by Alice Ward
I even got a call from Pink saying she loved my rendition of “Glitter in the Air,” which I sang with a mix of gritty, raw emotion. She said it had a real Adara Wilde vibe, and she wanted to meet with me at Coachella.
I was thrilled. I’d always wanted to sing with Pink. We’d met several times over the years, but never got a chance to work together.
Roman and I were happy, our relationship grew and flourished as we began to love each other more and more.
Finally, there was only a week before the festival and I was ready. My video was edited, my place was set in the Coachella line up, and Roman’s company was sponsoring the event. There was a lot of dialogue started about sustainability, child labor, trafficking and things that mattered, all because Roman was fighting back against people who questioned him. All and all we were in a good place, we just had one more shot to fire.
We packed our things and Pete and Liliana brought their camper van, and this time Roman had to go along with the crazy idea, because he needed to work the festival with Adam and a host of other people from his office. They all rented camper buses and it was so much fun. I loved camping in a tour bus for a couple of nights. Roman hated it, but he had to learn to loosen up.
Before the craziness began, we were all sitting under the stars having wine with his crew when he reached over and took my hand as he so often did.
“You know you’re amazing, right?” His face glowed with love.
“You know you are, right?” I countered and we kissed.
“Oh my god, I love you guys so much. Adara, you have to marry my brother so he’ll stop being such a snobby bore. You’ve got to start rubbing off on him,” Liliana chimed in right in Roman’s ear.
I loved his sister, she was the perfect friend for me. We hung out a lot, which left Roman with Pete. Roman had admitted, however, that Pete was growing on him.
On the day of the show, Pink and I sang “Glitter in the Air” as a duet. The crowd went wild. As she walked off the stage while I took the mike, I had to wait for the audience to calm down before I was able to speak. When they finally stilled, I sat on a chair, my leg in a glittering brace, not hiding any longer.
“Thank you for being here and for welcoming me to the stage, it’s been too long.”
There was another round of thunderous applause.
“I’m glad to be here, but I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for one man.” I had asked the cameraman to highlight Roman during my speech before the show.
The camera focused on Roman and he looked surprised as the monitors displayed his face.
“Without Roman Wellington, I wouldn’t be here with you tonight. His company, Crave, is sponsoring this festival.” The crowd roared. “His struggles trying to get people to understand his heart and passion inspired my next song tonight. I hope you enjoy it and understand that the beauty around us isn’t always revealed in the places where we are looking. He taught me that, and I hope after seeing this video, you will be the first to understand what’s really happening around us.”
The music to “See” started, and I sat at the piano and began to sing as a video played behind me. In the video were clips of the women in Brazil on the coffee plantation, singing, eating, and enjoying each other, despite the sun and the hardship of their labor.
If you always had a mirror, what would you see?
What would that reflection be?
There were clips of women at Jewel, which painfully highlighted the horrible abuse they had suffered.
Could you divine god’s plan?
Could you fight against the tyrants of the land?
Pictures of Jack’s company flashed onto the screen, and the video we took of the people he’d paid to hurt Roman saying that hunger and poverty drove them to it.
Could you see me screaming there behind the vacant stare?
Then images of people working together, and phrases about unity and change.
It’s time we take a mighty stand and reach out to our fellow man….
At the end, a full orchestra joined me on stage as I sang with a close-up on my face.
The crowd screamed, fans threw flowers, and the cameras panned around the festival showing people in tears. I’d done it, showed them the things hiding in the noise, and in doing so reflected some of the beauty and the tragedy in our lives.
Just when I thought life couldn’t get any better, Roman joined me on stage with a microphone. “I have one question for you, Adara Wilde.”
I turned to the crowd and spoke into my mic. “What does he have up his sleeve?”
The crowd collectively gasped, and when I turned back to Roman, he was on one knee, holding a small ring box in his hand.
“Will you marry me?” he asked as he opened the box to reveal a diamond ring so big that the lights reflecting off it nearly blinded me.
I was happy I had a headset, because I would have dropped the microphone. I walked to the man who was willing to carry me whenever I needed him to and didn’t hesitate. “Yes, a thousand yeses.”
The crowd cheered as he put the ring on my finger and it sparkled in the stage lights. I grabbed his face and kissed him hard on the lips as the crowd screamed louder.
Coachella was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life, and thanks to my song, “See,” turning into a number one hit, the story was now out there, the truth. It didn’t take long for people to discover that he was a part owner in Jewel. That was scandal enough, but then the media broke the truth and revealed most of these women were being kept as sex slaves who were unable to leave the property and forced to cater to their client’s sexual whims. A sting operation closed the place down.
During the sting, authorities discovered that Jack was laundering money from business deals that exploited workers, used a child labor force, and had ties to corrupt government. Jewel was the least of his worries, and frankly, I could see why he spent so much time there — he could easily hide in the fantasy.
Life was busy, but Roman and I always made private time for us. On top of managing a career and planning the wedding of the century, I also started the “See” foundation to help women recover from abuse. In fact, I bought Jewel when it went on the market and paid the women who had worked at the brothel to help reinvent that space that we now called Revive. Roman’s sister joined the board of Revive and became an integral part of their operation.
Roman helped with the marketing and ensuring that people knew what it was and why it was there. There was a counseling center with an arts gallery attached, which provided studio space for singers, dancers, artists, writers, and anyone else who wanted to work through their abuse story with artistic expression.
There was a thrift store and fashion design studio, housing for those who needed a safe place to stay. A restaurant and theater, a playground, a swimming pool, and a trampoline park. There was also a community space where people were welcome to hang out and a small garden where food was grown for the restaurant.
Everyone was there to heal, recover, and have fun, thus taking the shame out of surviving their ordeals. Janis was one of the managers and many of the women she’d worked with started to heal and start their lives over again.
Brandy struggled, but she finally left Harmon and was a resident at the housing center and working to get her life back on track.
As for my new family, Roman’s sister and Pete just announced they were going to have a baby. They were now the most sickeningly happy people in the world, but I loved them.
When Pete announced they would be moving into the lake house for the duration, I thought Roman’s head was going to explode.
Then I saw the spark of excitement in his eyes. And that got me to thinking about being the kind of man I now knew he was. The kind who loved his family, wanted kids, and hoped to fill the halls of a very lonely mansion.
That night as he was getting ready for bed, I posed provocatively on top of the soft duvet. “Do you want babies, Roman?” I asked playfully, running my foot across his thigh w
hen he stepped closer. “We could have little rockstar slash dot com babies. Or at least practice.”
I squealed as he dropped down on the bed next to me and rolled me underneath him, kissing me hard on the mouth.
When he came up for air, he laughed. “I’ve heard that takes lots and lots of practice.” Then he pulled my shirt over my head, unhooked my bra, and kissed the sensitive flesh of my neck.
Pulling back, our eyes met, and he looked at me with loving desire. “As long as they end up as cool as you are, I’m game for spending all night making babies.”
So we practiced. And practiced.
And a year later, the pregnancy stick turned pink.
As we celebrated our love and the new life we would be bringing into the world, we became man and wife, with only our close family beside us.
I’d thrown away my mask, thanks to Roman.
But every now and then, when I was feeling frisky, I thought I might ask him to put his on.
THE END
Continue on to read a special sneak peek of my recent and most successful release so far, The Surprise. This book reached a rank of #4 in all of Amazon!
A Sneak Peek
THE SURPRISE
Alice Ward
CHAPTER ONE
A breeze wafted in through my bedroom window, lifting the lace curtains. Down on the street two floors below, a car honked and someone shouted in Spanish. Women chattered and birds chirped. Spring. It had arrived just as gloriously as it always did.
I took a deep breath and gazed at myself in the floor-length mirror leaning against the wall. I meant to hang it weeks ago, but like so much else in the apartment, I just hadn’t gotten around to it. Nearly six months into the lease and I still wasn’t sure how I felt about living alone. It was weird, waking up in the middle of the night and being able to do whatever I wanted. I knew it was good... well, hopefully I would one day see it as good. Besides, it was past time to cross living alone off the bucket list. But it was still odd, just like almost everything else that had happened in my life this past year.
I brushed some of my blonde hair from my eyes and twisted my lips, making a funny face at myself.
“Don’t be nervous,” I said out loud. “You got this.”
I scrunched up my nose, Mirror Me not believing Right Side Me.
“Really,” I stressed to my reflection, giving myself an encouraging fist pump. “Really.”
The one seriously fantastic bonus about living alone that I had discovered? You could talk to yourself twenty-four-seven, and no one else was around to look at you funny.
With a confident nod at myself, I turned from the mirror to rifle through one of my jewelry boxes. My recent visit to the Swap-O-Rama flea market had turned into something akin to hitting a gold mine. Brightly colored chunky bracelets now filled one side of my blue velvet jewelry box. I selected a coral one and an orange one, slipping them both on my left wrist, the blend the perfect complement to my reddish-orange and white romper. Just being fully accessorized had a way of making me feel better.
Snatching up my leather fringed purse from the bed, I left the bedroom and crossed the tiny living room.
“Phone,” I murmured to myself, feeling in the bag for it. “Keys... check.”
I unlocked the front door and yanked it open... then let out a yelp.
“Sorry.” Derek grinned, gazing down at me. His unruly brown hair fell down over one side of his face, nearly hiding one of his eyes. He looked like a college kid trying to be goth. When I first met him, I thought he was actually younger than he was, mostly because of the hair.
I exhaled loudly. “It’s all right. I was just... lost in my head. How are you?”
“Good.”
I rolled up onto my tiptoes so I could reach his face and give him a quick peck on the lips.
“Were you leaving?” He shifted his weight and rested an arm against the doorway.
“Yeah, I’m going to the orphanage today. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s right.” He straightened up. “Well, let me walk you to your car.”
“Sure.”
Derek stepped out of the way and waited silently while I pulled the door to my apartment closed and locked it up.
“How’s it going over there?” he asked as we clomped down the stairs.
“Good.” I smiled just thinking of their faces. “The kids at Hampton Road are great.”
He pushed the building’s front door open and held it for me as I hurried through and out onto the bright sidewalk. “I parked on the street last night,” I explained. “Just down a bit. I’m sorry you stopped by for nothing. I thought you knew Saturday was going to be my regular day there.”
He shrugged before looping an arm around my shoulder. I pressed up against him, the crook of his arm warm and familiar. Derek and I had been dating for about four months, ever since we met through mutual friends at a concert. He was the only man I’d been with in the whole last year and the relationship sometimes seemed too good to be true. It was smooth, easy. We had our own things that we did separately, and we had our things that we did together. It was my life and his life, the two existing independently but meeting in the middle like one of those bubble graphs showing what two variables had in common. It was a simple and well-defined formula. It worked for us.
Wait. Was that called a bubble chart? Or was there another name for it?
“It’s all right,” Derek replied, jarring me out of my head. “I have a few hours to kill before work.”
I nodded, trying to act like I totally hadn’t spaced out for a few seconds. “How’s it going at the shop?”
“Pretty good. Lots of people bringing in their cars to get checked out before they go on vacation.”
We stopped next to my silver Honda. “I can hang out later,” I told him. “When do you get off work?”
He shrugged. “Depends on what time Rodney leaves. I’ll text you.”
“Okay.” I smiled up at him. “Maybe we can catch a movie or something if you’re not too tired.”
“Yeah, there’s that new James Bond.”
I wrinkled my nose slightly.
Derek laughed, the smile transforming his face. “Come on. You’re the last person who should hate James Bond.”
I snorted. “It’s so fake.”
“Every movie is fake. Those romances you love, especially. People don’t just meet and fall in love then get married all in one week.”
I gently swatted his arm. “That’s not how they go!”
“Close enough.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, knowing he was right. “Whatever. Well, either way, have a good day.”
“You too, babe.” Derek bent down to kiss me, then turned with a wave before striding off down the street.
Realizing that I had no clue as to what the exact time was, I quickly pulled my keys from my purse and hopped into the car. Being late on my third day of volunteering would not be good. The staff there was friendly and understanding, but I’d been raised to never make people wait. Any time I did it, I ended up feeling awful about myself.
On the first day to Hampton Road Orphanage, I used GPS to take me there. On the second day, I used my memory but then ended up taking the wrong road once or twice. Surely by my third day, I would finally have it down.
Heading out of Chicago after the weekend rush hour meant traffic was fairly light, and I made it to the three-story brownstone in great time. Tall oak trees dappled the small gravel parking lot with shade, making it the perfect temperature. Built decades before as a summer home for some rich scholarly family, a full wraparound porch hugged the building. Lush green grass stretched out all around the property, giving it an impressive amount of land when compared to the lower middle-class houses clumped together on the rest of the street.
I tossed my sunglasses on the passenger seat next to my purse, then locked the car and left everything behind. The upcoming day’s activities were still a mystery, but since my other volunteer hours had involved clea
ning the kitchen and taking a group to the park to play basketball, this third one would likely be just as physically involved. I didn’t want to be encumbered by a bag hanging off my shoulder or a ringing cell phone.
I took the front porch steps two at a time, escaping into the cooler air of the awning. Before I could open the door, it flew open, a little face appearing only inches above the door knob.
“Blaire!” Jenny yelled up at me, her strawberry blonde pigtails bouncing along with her feet. “Blaire!”
Though there were a couple dozen kids in the orphanage and I wasn’t even close to remembering half of their names, Jenny would be the hardest to forget. At six, she was one of the most precocious and social kids I’d ever run into. She was also a master manipulator as the orphanage’s director quietly told me on the first day. Jenny could design excuses to get what she wanted like a spider weaves webs.
“Hi Jenny,” I said, stepping inside. “You answer the door now?”
“Jenny!” a woman’s voice called from somewhere down the long hallway.
Jenny ignored the call, instead keeping her pale blue eyes trained on me. “Cris... Cris... on is here.”
“Oh.” I paused, not having even the tiniest idea what the child was talking about. “Okay... well, that’s nice.”
Teresa, the home’s director, popped her head out of the doorway leading to the kitchen. “Jenny! Aren’t you going to go play Red Rover? They’re out there waiting for you.”
“Okay!” the little girl yelled, turning and barreling down the hallway. The back screen door gave under her palms, and a second later, she vanished into the back yard. Realizing the front door was still left hanging wide open, I turned around and gently shut it.
Teresa came out into the hallway, the dozens of gold bangles she always wore clinking together musically as she lifted a hand to brush some silver and black streaked hair from her brow.
“Blaire,” she sighed. “You’re looking good. I love those bracelets. How are you?”
I smiled wide. “Great! How are you?”
“Just fine,” she said with a bright smile of her own. Though Teresa easily had one of the craziest jobs in the whole city, she always moved with grace, constantly wearing a smile and giving her full attention to whoever was in front of her. She reminded me of my mother in a way, although a much calmer version of the woman who raised me. Maybe it was her warmth. She had told me she’d never had any children of her own, but to see her with the twenty kids who lived at Hampton Road, it was clear she felt very motherly towards each and every one of them.