Attempting to look composed, even though he'd just pulled the rug away so to speak, she lied. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Turning haunted eyes back to him, she lifted her chin stubbornly.
"I can help you, not only with your career, Ms. Wilkerson, but to get over what he did to you." He remained seated, wanting her to understand he had no intention of hurting her. "To do that you're going to have to trust me though." He hoped she took the opportunity he was offering to her, he knew just how much that kind of pain could torment a person if they didn't let it go.
"I'm here to sing, Mr. Fitzgerald, and I'm flattered that you find me worthy enough to help, but my personal life, well that's off limits." She couldn't bring up the events in her past, especially not with this stranger. There was no way he could understand what it was like to live everyday looking over your shoulder wondering when the past would catch up to you again.
"What if I told you the two were so deeply combined that if you didn't let me help with one, you might never get the other?" He didn't want to play on her dreams to get her to accept his help, but the torment he'd seen in her eyes, he understood so much better than she could possibly know.
"Are you saying if I don't talk about my personal life, you'll kick me out of this competition?" She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have to go back home and tell Rachel she'd failed after she'd made it so far. Dredging up her past, when all she wanted to do was forget it though was not an option.
"What I'm saying is that your past will keep you from moving forward if you don't accept what happened and learn to move on." He could see it in her eyes, how she wanted to run out that door or scream and tell him to go to hell, but her dream was stopping her. "I promise you will never regret letting me help you Ms. Wilkerson."
Who the hell did he think he was, she thought angrily, and tried to not voice the words filtering through her mind? He's 'The Nolan Fitzgerald', she reminded herself, he had the ability to make or break her career. "Is being a bully how you get your rocks off Mr. Fitzgerald?" Furious wasn't even a strong enough word to express how mad she was that he was making her consider talking about her past.
Throwing back his head, he chuckled deeply at her rage. "Why don't you tell me what it is you're truly angry about here, Ms. Wilkerson?" This was the fire in her that needed to be released, he thought to himself, not some simpering little frightened girl that she was hiding behind.
Standing up, she paced the room like a caged tiger waiting to strike. "I'm pissed because it's none of your business what my personal life is or was, and the fact that you have the audacity to use your power over me to try and get me to speak about something that I'd just as soon forget." Glaring at him, she wanted to slap the stupid smile off his face, and oddly enough it felt good to be allowed to show her anger.
"Seriously Ms. Wilkerson, you should tell me how you really feel," he was amazed to see the fire in the petite woman, and his smile widened. This was a diva that could sell a million records, and he was determined to fuel her on.
Exasperated at his nonchalant attitude even after her tirade, she threw her hands up in the air. "Just what the hell is it you want Mr. Fitzgerald?" Her hands found her hips, and she glared at him in anger and confusion.
"I want you to show up on my stage as full of fire as you are right now and to show every single one of those contestants that you are as worthy, if not more, as they are to be in this competition." He enjoyed the emotions that ran over her beautiful face as she allowed his words to sink in.
He was the most confusing man on the entire planet, she thought with a shake of her head as she moved to sit back down on the couch. "Those other contestants have had years of training, and I'm just some girl from New Jersey who likes to sing for open mic night at a bar." She had no idea why she was admitting her insecurities to him, but she felt almost relieved at her angry outburst earlier.
"What you are is a natural born singer with the potential to be a superstar if you get past this entire 'I'm not worthy attitude'." He allowed his words to hit home and saw in her beautiful eyes that she was considering that. "So again I ask you Ms. Wilkerson, are you going to let me help you?"
The idea that this man really wanted to help her made her suspicious as hell and she wanted to know his real intentions. "Just what is it you are hoping to get from helping me Mr. Fitzgerald?"
Chuckling again at her suspicions, he decided to answer her honestly. "I'm in this industry to make money, Ms. Wilkerson, my intentions are to make you the best you can possibly be and therefore sell a product, which would be your voice and image." Even as he spoke the words they didn't feel right somehow. Yes, he wanted to showcase her to her full potential, but there was something else that he couldn't put a name to yet that inspired him to break her out of her shell.
Just like that she was deflated, it was obvious he was not trying to con her or fill her head with dreams. He was offering her a business arrangement that had the possibility to help her fulfill her goals. "Well why didn't you just say so in the beginning?" Shaking her head, she knew he was the strangest man she'd ever met before.
She was a delight, he thought as he watched the anger sift right out of her. There was very little trust in this little lady, and in this business he considered it was probably not all bad, but for reasons he couldn't contemplate fully, he wanted her to trust him. "Now that we know where we stand, Ms. Wilkerson, I'm asking you again are you willing to let me help you?" He decided her question didn't really need an answer.
"As long as we both understand that this is all professional, I'll agree to accepting your help." What else could she tell the man, she thought to herself, he hadn't really offered anything that outrageous, and she had his motives all backwards when she first entered this room.
"What else would it be, Ms. Fitzgerald?" He might deny to her that he found her enticing, but he was finding himself more than a little interested in her, and not just in a professional manner. That was a thought he knew he'd keep to himself for now.
With all the wind knocked out of her sails, so to speak, she once again felt foolish for thinking this man had any interest in her except in a professional capacity. "So how do you want to do this?"
"First I want your agreement that when I ask you a question, you will be completely honest with me." He was going to delve into her emotions in ways she would probably hate, but to understand how to help her, he needed her trust.
"Fine, I will be honest with you, but don't blame me if it pisses you off." She gave a small smirk, thinking that she would tell him exactly what she thought if he made her feel uncomfortable.
"Agreed, but the same goes for me, don't get your panties in a wad if I ask you things that you feel are none of my business." This was going to be an interesting tutoring session, he thought as her eyes filled with fire again.
"I'm going to take the last two hours of your classes daily and devote them to myself, and you will agree to tell the other contestants that it's because you need a little extra help." He didn't wait for her to comment before continuing on. "During those two hours I'll have free reign to ask you whatever I deem necessary, and give you my expert advice on how to be a better performer."
"Why would I have to tell the other contestants anything?" The thought of them thinking she was so far below them that she couldn't manage without professional help on stage galled her.
"Because I don't need a bunch of whiny performers going to the press and telling them that I was playing favorites, Ms. Wilkerson, so you will make it believable." He stood up and walked back to his piano, as he contemplated. "And I mean really make them believe it, consider this an acting lesson, because I want you to appear as if you can't believe you're so hopeless that without my help you were going to be cut from the show. Do you understand?"
It infuriated her that she was going to have to embarrass herself that way, especially as she considered Trisha's arrogant attitude. "Fine, but in return I want to be on the same level as those other performers
before our first televised performance." If she was going to degrade herself, then she felt she at least deserved to be compensated for her efforts.
He was very proud of her for making her own stipulations, and knew it was a step in the right direction. "I can promise that when I'm done with you, they will all be drooling at how far you've come."
"So when do you want to start this?" She was getting weary, the all day training and her emotions being so overwhelmed here with him, were taking a toll. As far as she was concerned they had an agreement, as long as he didn't overstep his side of things, she would accept his odd offer.
"Tomorrow at three, I'll have a car waiting for you. Just make sure you play out your part to the other contestants during the day." Glancing down at his watch, he knew she needed her rest for tomorrow. "I'll drive you back to the hotel."
She hoped this wasn't a decision she'd regret, but with everything she'd feared when she first arrived here, the conclusion to this meeting had been much more amicable than she'd ever thought. "Fine, and don't worry I'll have them all convinced how tragic I am before I return."
"As long as you understand personally that you have more potential than any of the others, we'll make a great team." Walking back to the piano, he picked up his wallet and keys and walked out of the room, expecting her to follow. Making his way out to his sports car, he opened the door for her before moving around to the driver's side. He had so many ideas on how to make her shine, that he gave little thought to the real person sitting beside him as he drove her back home.
Angela was exhausted as they finally pulled up to the hotel, and she couldn't wait to grab a shower and get some rest. He opened her door for her, and she could tell his mind was already in a different place. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Fitzgerald," she whispered quietly.
"Until then, Ms. Wilkerson." Closing her door he walked back around to his side of the car, "Be prepared to change your life tomorrow." With those words he slid into the car and drove off.
She made her way back up to the suite, pleased that Lizzy appeared to out. Taking a quick shower, she dressed in a daze before finding her bed. His words were still filtering through her mind as she managed to doze off, and for reasons she couldn't contemplate she wondered if the changing he would do might help her get over her past.
The nightmare began as she relived the moment that had forced her to run away. This night was different than the last two years where he'd sneak in through whatever barrier she'd managed to devise. Usually it was stockings tied from the head of the bed to the doorknob, or a chair placed under the handle, anything her young mind could conceive to let him know he wasn't wanted here.
The photo's she'd found of herself that he taken of her in the shower without her knowledge, or the memory lapses that she always worried he'd drug induced, those were nothing compared to that one fateful night. Her mother was working the late shift at the hospital again, and she was already terrified that he'd attempt to slide into her room and grope her, which was his normal way of showing his power. It was for that reason that she usually didn't sleep on the nights her mom had to work these shifts. There were days in a row where she fell asleep in class because she couldn't sleep at home.
That night her mom wouldn't be home until sunrise, and although she'd tried to make plans to stay with a friend, her report card was so terrible she was grounded and her mother wouldn't hear of it. It was hard to make good grades when you slept through classes. She'd tied the stockings and added the chair to the door as a precaution, but neither of those things had stopped him from walking in.
He gave her the speech, the one that she memorized from hearing it so many times, of how much he loved her and how she was turning into such a beautiful young woman. It made her nauseated when he told her how gorgeous her breasts were, and that her body was made to be worshipped. That night she had pleaded with him to leave her alone, there was something in his eyes that told her he wanted something more than he had already taken.
Technically, she was still a virgin, but he had touched her in ways that made her hate her own body when it responded to his disgusting ways. He'd used that against her too, saying that if she hadn't enjoyed what he was doing to her, that he would have left her alone. He reminded her constantly that it was her fault he did these things to her.
At seventeen, she didn't understand that the human body would respond to stimulation without her own mind being depraved and had accepted that she was just a whore, like he convinced her. Even as he held her down and his mouth found her most sensitive area, she had felt nauseated, but her body had found pleasure. Her own self-loathing kept her still as he turned her over and used her own fluids to lubricate her other entry.
He made it a point to tell her tomorrow night, he'd take her cherry, but he didn't have a condom tonight so he'd break in the other end. Getting her pregnant would make their dirty little secret known and he couldn't allow that, he'd said with a laugh that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
The pain as he took her forcefully, made her scream out in agony, and she wished that the torture would end in death so she could escape this abuse. He promised her that it would be easier next time, and she needed to feel this to know what a horrible person she was. When it was over he kissed her cheek, and told her that she had pleased him and left her alone to suffer in silence. For hours she'd cried until there was nothing left inside of her.
Close to dawn, she made the decision to leave and never come back. Knowing no one would believe her, and even if they did, she deserved everything he'd done, she packed as much as she could in the one overnight bag she had, and snuck out before her mother came home. He'd promised her that if she every spoke of their secret, he would make them believe she had seduced him, and she believed it.
All she could think about was getting as far away from him and those people that would condemn her for being such a tramp. She hitch-hiked her way as far North as possible and with nothing but a desperate hope for freedom, she finally ended up in the streets of New York. Knowing that if he ever found her, he'd force her to do those horrible things again, she vowed to never be discovered.
The first two weeks on the street had been almost as much of a living hell as being with him had been. Eating out of garbage cans, and finding a safe place to rest for a little time, became her life. She couldn't visit the homeless shelter for fear that they'd turn her in for being a run away. On the good nights some kind soul would give her a few dollars, and she'd allow herself the treat of a hotdog from one of the vendors. If it hadn't been for Rachel finding her, she knew her fate would have been worse than the abuse she'd suffered at her stepfather's hands.
5 Remembering
Waking up in a cold sweat, she heard the screams coming from her own lips, and refrained somehow from slapping Lizzie as she shook her. Forcing her eyes open to her reality, she took a few deep breaths, before speaking. "I'm sorry, I guess I was having a nightmare." She couldn't tell her new friend what she was dreaming about, and hoped she never asked.
"That one must have been a horrible dream," Lizzie said with a smile. "It's a little after five, do you want to order room service?"
Thankful that Lizzie didn't question her, she slid out of bed on shaking legs. "I'll make us some breakfast if you'll give me a few personal minutes." Taking a few minutes to collect herself as she left the room, she wished again that her past would stop haunting her.
She made them omelets, and they ate in companionable silence. Cooking was one of her ways of calming herself and since she'd been taken in by Rachel, she'd become a great cook. After those two weeks on the street, even the smallest of meals made her content.
"So how did the meeting with Fitzgerald go?" Lizzie asked sipping on a cup of coffee. She wondered if that was the reason for her friend's nightmares. Anyone that read about the man knew he could be a complete asshole.
"Apparently he thinks I need a lot of work on my stage performance to keep up with you guys, and he's offered his help." Taking the
ir empty plates she put them in the sink and mindlessly began washing them off. She didn't like lying to people, so the less she said, the better she'd feel.
"He must know you have potential if he's willing to offer you his personal assistance," Lizzie smiled warmly, wanting her friend to feel that this was a blessing and not a curse.
"Either that or he doesn't want me to ruin his show," Angela gave a self-depreciating grin.
"You forget I watched you perform in New York, Angela, there's no doubt in my mind how talented you are." This was a competition, but she felt no need to be catty to other performers, unlike some of the other contestants here.
"Thanks Lizzy, I really appreciate how nice you've been to me." She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be stuck with a bitch of a roommate like Trisha, and gave silent thanks to her good fortunes on that end at least.'
"I like your company," Lizzy grinned, "oh by the way Devon and a few of the others are ordering pizza and goofing off after rehearsals today, he asked me to invite you."
"I'm working with Mr. Fitzgerald for the last two hours of every day this week, but I should be back in time." She actually liked the idea of hanging out with her two new friends, although she'd reserve judgment on the others when she found out who was going to be there.
"Wow, I don't know if I'm jealous or glad it's you," Lizzie laughed at the prospect. "What's he like to work with?" She asked curiously.
"Pretty much like you'd expect, overwhelming and in your face," she figured that was a pretty accurate description. Although he hadn't been really rude last night, he'd certainly stepped over her personal boundaries.
"Glad it's you then," Lizzie sipped her coffee again and shrugged her shoulders playfully. She'd dealt with vocal coaches for years and they could be rude and unsympathetic, she could only imagine how tough Fitzgerald would be from the rumors that floated around.
Angela's Salvation Page 4