Angela's Salvation

by Hughes, Michelle

  "Thanks," Angela laughed at her non sympathetic approval, "if we don't want to get chewed out we'd better get ready for classes. She said it in a joking manner, but their first teacher of the day was not the type of person you wanted to piss off. She had pretty much let them know yesterday that she considered her time very valuable.

  "By all mean, we can't have Mrs. Landers jumping our butts on the second day of training." Rolling her eyes, she walked off to her own bedroom to prepare for the day.

  Angela washed and dried the plates they had used before returning to her own room. Dressing in a pair of dance pants, oversized t-shirt and tennis shoes, she wanted to be comfortable for the long day ahead. Pulling her thick blond hair up into a ponytail, she brushed her teeth and decided to go natural. No need to put on makeup, just to sweat it off, she reasoned.

  They made it to their first class with only two minutes to spare. Trisha and her little group of 'we are the best here' cronies, were already warming up, but the moment Angela walked in she saw the glare sent her way.

  "So how did you enjoy meeting Mr. Fitzgerald," Trisha said in sugary venomous voice. The fact that he had singled a waste of time like this girl out, made her determined to strike out.

  This was her acting opportunity, and it galled her to have to show weakness to this bitchy woman. "He said I needed extra help with my stage performance so I could keep up with the rest of you." She gritted her teeth as she demeaned herself.

  Pleased that Mr. Fitzgerald had seen how pathetic the chit was, she felt her anger dissolve, and decided to offer a little fake compassion. "You should consider yourself honored that he's taking the time out of his busy schedule to help you." Smiling sweetly, now that the woman was obviously not competition for her, she continued on. "Angela, being on this show at all gives you the opportunity for great exposure, you don't have to win to be successful."

  Basically Trisha was saying she was off her radar now that she wasn't standing in her way, with all her street smarts she understood how the woman's mind worked. "Well I guess as long as I don't embarrass myself, I'll have to be thankful for this opportunity." There she thought, I've played my part perfectly, and Fitzgerald owes me big time for letting this bitch think she's more deserving.

  "Now that's the attitude you need to have," Trisha smiled, for once it was actually genuine. They had to do group numbers, and the thought of any of the group screwing up her moment to shine would not be tolerated. Perhaps she'd been a little too hard on the loser, she thought and considered offering a truce.

  Returning her smile with a plastered one of her own, she was glad the vocal coach had arrived and she didn't have to talk anymore. She wanted to slap the condescending bitch right off her self-imposed pedestal, but knew that it would just cause more problems. She had four weeks to work with the witch and then she would forget she even existed, she determined.

  For the next six hours she focused completely on the classes and even during lunch she allowed her mind to go over how she could improve her performances. These people had years under their belt of doing this stuff, and she had to catch up quickly. The choreographing glass had been particularly brutal, since she'd never danced a day in her life. They'd had to repeat several of the dance moves because of her inability to remember the routine. Even Lizzy was frustrated with her when that class ended. By the time the car arrived to take her to Mr. Fitzgerald she was so depressed she wondered if any of this was worth her time.

  She walked into his studio, almost on the verge of telling him she couldn't do this. What came so easily to those performers was like a living nightmare to her. "I just can't do this," she complained, pacing the room and throwing her hands up in frustration.

  He knew all the routines the performers were doing for the opening show, and understood that for someone not accustomed to dancing how frustrating it was. "You can do it, you just have to wrap your mind around doing two things at once, and stop worrying so much." Confidence was her biggest barrier, he knew that until she gained that she was just floundering. "We're going to work on the first routine." Walking over to his sound system he placed the disc in for the backup music.

  After an hour of practicing the same moves over and over, she wanted to scream in frustration. She'd finally gotten the basics down, and didn't flinch when his hands wrapped around her waist during the last try. One of the things she hated about these routines was the fact that she had to deal with people touching her. It was a sexy jazz number, and while the singing was easy, the thought of anyone touching her at all wasn't.

  "Let's take a breather," he walked over to the mini-fridge and pulled out two bottled waters, and threw one at her.

  She caught it in midair and grinned at the gesture before unscrewing the top and taking a deep gulp. Working with him wasn't as bad as being in front of the rest of the group, she decided as she cooled down, plopping right on the floor to relax like she was at home.

  His mother had forced him to take dance lessons from the age of three, so the moves were very basic to him. It was one of the few things he remembered about her since she had passed away when he still in elementary school. "You're doing great for someone who's never had formal training, just don't be so hard on yourself," he encouraged as he joined her on the floor.

  She was surprised as he sat down, and wondered how many people got to hang out with the elusive Mr. Fitzgerald in casual comfort like this. "Tell that to the group, I think they want to have me hung out to dry after today," she shook her head, feeling a little better after his encouraging words.

  "Most of those people are so full of themselves that they can't step outside and understand what it's like to be new," he smiled encouragingly. "Now for your promise, tell me who hurt you." He hated to break their strange camaraderie, but if he was going to truly help her, he needed her to keep up her end of the bargain.

  "Talk about a subject change," she grumbled under her breath, having forgotten the real reason she was here until that very moment. She really didn't want to talk about this, even though she'd given him her word. Dredging up the past made no sense to her, and she took a deep breath, hesitating.

  "Stop stalling, Ms. Wilkerson," he encouraged with a small smile, hoping that talking this out would help her gain some closure.

  Rolling her eyes, she whispered softly, "My stepfather." Even thinking about that man made her stomach clench nervously.

  "How old were you," he kept his tone even, wanting to encourage her to speak and stop holding her pain inside.

  Angry that he brought this up when she wanted nothing more than to forget it, she decided to just lay it all out on the line. "I was fifteen when it started and seventeen when he raped me, okay! I ran away from home and lived out on the damn streets until I met Rachel, and I've never looked back again." Standing up, she needed to put some space between them, because just talking about the past, pissed her off. Even if she had deserved what happened, she didn't have to like it.

  He couldn't even imagine having to make those choices at such a young age, and his normally cold heart ached for her. "Why did you live on the street, and not ask for help?" He was amazed that she'd lived through that, and again was astounded at the strength of character it must have taken to overcome a life like that. His own past didn't seem so horrible in comparison.

  Glancing at him as if he had was an idiot, she shook her head. "Because I wasn't of legal age when I left and if I'd have went to the police or a homeless shelter they could have taken his word and sent me back. I decided eating garbage out of trash cans was a better life than letting him touch me again." Was he really that stupid, she thought, taking her anger out on him, instead of the man responsible for making her life a living hell.

  He knew she'd been hurt by someone, but the horror of her situation was even worse than what he could have imagined. "Have you thought about pressing charges now that you're an adult?" He couldn't imagine allowing someone to get away with such a violent act, even though he himself had never been allowed to press charg
es after his own abuse.

  Turning back to glare at him, she shook her head no. "I never wanted to see his face again, and the thought that he would know where I was, well it wasn't worth the chance that someone might actually believe me. I guess maybe I didn't believe myself that I didn't somehow deserve what he did to me." She'd never admitted that to anyone before, it was her own guilty secret.

  "How could you think you deserved that Angela," in his own anger at what had happened to her, he dropped her title and stared at her in shock.

  At his sympathy the dam broke that someone else believed she might not be this horrible person, and tears flooded down her cheeks. "My own body betrayed me, he told me that I enjoyed it or that it would have never happened." This was her dirty secret, the shame she'd carried with her for the last five years that still gave her nightmares.

  Staring back at her incredulously for her thoughts, he was astounded that she actually seemed to believe that. "Angela if you tied me down and sucked my cock my body would eventually respond, but that wouldn't mean I wanted it to happen." He didn't mean to be so crude, but the fact that this beautiful person believed she encouraged the act of violence infuriated him. Not against her, but against a man so perverted he would fill her mind with such bullshit.

  Shocked at his words, and the anger that filled his face, she stepped away from him. "I wouldn't ever do that," the thought of willingly touching a man that way made her want to hurl.

  "That's what I'm talking about honey," he controlled the rage in his voice, seeing how it frightened her. "You never asked for what he did to you, and you obviously didn't want it."

  She allowed his words to sink in, and wondered if she really wasn't at fault for those things that happened. She'd never discussed this with anyone, not even Rachel, because it made her so psychically sick remembering those years. Strangely enough, she wasn't feeling sick at the moment.

  He wanted her to believe him, and knew that by sharing his own story, he might have a better chance. "Trust me Angela, I suffered at the hands of another person too, and it took me a long time to understand I wasn't the one to blame." He had only talked about this with a counselor, but he knew instinctively she'd had no one to turn to.

  "You were raped?" The thought of this proud, gorgeous, confident man having suffered made her angrier than her own experience.

  After years of therapy, he had come to understand that what happened to him was a violation against him and not something he'd been responsible for. "I was eighteen, and working at a piano bar in New Orleans. I won't say I was a saint in those days Angela, to be honest I was so screwed up with drugs and alcohol that I was barely making it through each day. Anyway, there was a producer who had came to my show one night and offered me a recording contract. I was trying to prove to myself that I didn't need my daddy's label to make it in the music industry and he offered me the rainbow with the pot of gold at the end."

  She sat back down beside him, listening to his story, and felt oddly at ease as he continued.

  "Anyway, being strung out on drugs, he asked me to come to his hotel and discuss the contract, and before I knew his intentions he had tied me down to a bed and forced me." The thought of that lecherous asshole touching him made him want to smash his face in. "Instead of turning away from sex, I slept with so many females that I lost count just to prove to myself I wasn't gay." He remembered the self-loathing he'd felt after that night and how many years it had taken him to get off the destructive path he'd allowed after the event.

  "Did you turn him in," she couldn't imagine what it must have been like to have someone of the same sex rape her, and wondered if it could be any worse than it being someone you knew, like in her case.

  "No, my father was on top of the recording industry at the time and instead of legal action we destroyed him together and made sure he never worked in the business again." He often looked back and wondered if he wouldn't have been better off putting the sadistic fuck in jail where he belonged.

  It was so much to take in, and she'd never spoken to another rape victim before. "Wow," that was all she could manage because her head was spinning over his story.

  "The truth is Angela, we can't help what happened to us in the past, but we can decide if we remain a victim for the rest of our life, or we overcome what they did to us." It had taken several years for him to accept his past, and he hoped he could help her rise above what had happened in her young life. For the first time in years he actually cared what happened to another person.

  "Why would you have worried about being gay?" She knew digging into his life was none of her business, but a part of her was really curious now.

  "After it happened I had all these nightmares about him, and one night I actually got off in the dream, so I was terrified it was something I actually wanted." He knew that if anyone would understand what he'd been through she would, and it was ironically funny since he'd never discussed that with any other female.

  "I guess people just react in their own way, I have the nightmares, but instead of wanting someone to touch me, the thought just makes me sick." She'd actually read tons of stuff on the internet, trying to understand her own emotions after the abuse. It was somewhat common for people to either become addicted to sex or celibate when something that horrific happened to them.

  "Whatever helps you deal I guess is what you do to survive," he smiled warmly and for once the past wasn't such a terrible thing. He'd turned down the offer to attend rape counseling group sessions, because he never wanted his secret to get out to the public, so it was a nice change being able to discuss this with a person outside of his counselor. "Have you ever considered talking to a counselor?" It had helped him so much, that he couldn't imagine having to go through it alone.

  "I was able to afford a few sessions, but working as a waitress, that doesn't leave a lot of extra money for things like that," she gave an embarrassed laugh, realizing that they were from two completely different worlds.

  "I guess I've never had to worry about money," he said apologetically. Even when he was singing in dives, he had his mother's trust fund to fall back on for support. "I can't imagine what it was like to live on the streets." He looked at her expectantly, wondering if he was pushing too much.

  "Let's just say you don't want to find out," those dark weeks on the street was something she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. "You learn how to sleep without really resting." That was putting it lightly, she thought, fearing for your life every second of the day was an experience no one should suffer.

  "You know your family will find out you're doing this show unless they live under a rock Angela," he hated to bring up the bad news, but wanted her to be prepared in case they did find her.

  The thought had never crossed her mind, but 'Overnight Sensation' was one of the most popular televised talent shows, and he was absolutely right. The thought of him finding her was terrifying. She hadn't talked to her mother since she left, and felt no guilt in stopping contact. In her young mind, her mother should have known what was happening in her own home. She failed to protect her and it was something she could never forgive.

  "If you'll allow me, I'll run interference, I can be pretty persuasive in making people do what I want." He gave a small smirk, showing a small glimpse of the attitude that earned him the title of Mr. Snarkiness in the tabloids.

  "As far as I know they haven't cared enough to find me in the last five years, so until it becomes a problem I'd rather not encourage him." The thought of having to face that monster again was something she'd give everything she had to avoid.

  "Your call, but I will say sometimes it's better to head things off before they happen." This was her choice, but he knew from personally experience that when a person was thrown into sudden fame that all the people in their past wanted to get in on the ride.

  "I think you're doing enough already, Mr. Fitzgerald," she was amazed at how much better she felt about herself after her talk with him today.

  "I think under the c
ircumstances you can call me Nolan," he chuckled warmly, "and if it's okay I'll use your name as well, the Mr. and Ms. stuff was starting to get annoying."

  "Okay Nolan, and of course I don't mind if you use my name." She found it funny that they were discussing such a normal topic after the bombshells they'd dropped on each other today.

  "About your name..." he smiled playfully. "I came up with an idea for a stage name yesterday and wanted to get your opinion, how about Angel Storm?" The name really did fit this lovely woman and he hoped she approved because he saw tons of marketing ideas using it.

  She liked the sound of the name and grinned enthusiastically. "I think it's really cool!" Her stomach growled at that precise moment, reminding her she hadn't eaten since lunch.

  He chuckled at the sound, "Would you do me the honor of letting me take you out to dinner?" They'd been talking for over an hour and he knew she'd probably want to rest soon to prepare for her training tomorrow.

  "I don't know Nolan, wouldn't the papers have a field day with you taking one of the contestants out to eat?" She was only half-joking as she made the comment, but for personal reasons she didn't want to be center of rumors with him.

  "Well I think if we keep it low key, and visit a pizza joint, the paparazzi might not get clued in." The fact of him visiting anything but a five-star restaurant would definitely be off the radar, he knew.

  The mention of pizza made her remember that her friends were ordering in tonight, "Crap I forget Lizzie and Devon were ordering pizza tonight, I really should be getting back to the hotel."

  He was somewhat amazed at how much he didn't want her to leave tonight, but smiled in understanding. "Far be it for me to keep you away from your pizza buddies," he laughed softly and stood up holding out his hand to help her stand.

  Without thought she took his hand and let him help her, still smiling. As they walked out to his limousine, she was still feeling happier than she could ever remember being before. They chatted all the way back to the hotel, and as they finally arrived she impulsively reached over to hug him. For reasons she couldn't contemplate it felt normal, even though she was a little embarrassed by her actions.