by Kim Cong
Pax entered my room at the sixth song. His hands gently cupped my face, his voice saying things I couldn’t understand. His face got up in mine and I focused on it. Slowly, I began to mimic his breathing, feeling myself relax under the stroking of his warm, large hands.
“Hey.” His voice was soft, his eyes understanding.
“Hey.” My chin quivered.
“No tears, princess. The make-up artist will kill you.” His voice was teasing, gentle. I took in a shaky breath, closing my eyes.
“I can’t do it, Pax. I can’t. I forgot this—the fear. God, how could I forget this?” I was cold, clammy. My body was tense.
“Princess, look at me.” I slowly opened my eyes, staring into his deep green. “Jetta, you’ve been kidnapped. You’ve been scared. You’ve been angry and disappointed. More than that, knowing everything you know, you’ve still taken a risk on me. You’re going to own this. You’ve got this, Jetta.” His voice was calm but firm.
“I can’t do it,” I whispered the words through frozen lips.
“Yes. You can.” He pulled me out from under the table and set me on my feet. “Princess, repeat after me. I am strong.”
My voice was small. “I am strong.”
“I am invincible.”
“I am invincible.” My lips hitched up at the side.
“I am Jetta!”
“I am Jetta.” The words were soft but I still laughed. “Helen Reddy? Really?”
“Sure.” His hands slid up to my waist. “Woman knows how to write a power ballad.”
“Hmmm…” I made a non-committal noise, smiling up at him.
“Better?”
“No. But I’ll try to get through this.”
He grinned. “That’s my girl.” His head dipped. “And God, is she looking fucking amazing tonight.” His lips engulfed mine, ruining my lipstick. A knock on the door interrupted our make-out session.
“Five minutes, Ms Oliver!”
I pulled back, lifting a finger to wipe the red from Pax’s lips.
“You’re going to rock it out there, princess. No doubt in my mind. You’re not doing this for Courtney or your mum, your dad, Paul, or anyone else.” His forehead rested against mine. “You’re doing tonight for you. And you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. I’m so proud of every single thing you do. I’m proud to call you mine. It doesn’t matter what happens out there, Jetta. I’m still going to be proud.” He dropped a kiss on my nose and stepped back. “Now get out there!” I smiled and moved toward the door, jumping when he slapped my arse.
“Pax!”
“What?” He followed me, grinning.
“You are so paying for that later.”
“Looking forward to it, princess.”
The make-up artist caught me as I headed to the wings of the stage. She repaired my lips in under a minute, muttering about men who ruined her life’s work. After that, Paul, Marco, and Anthony came up, grabbing their instruments, stretching. Anthony, Marco, and I started singing along to the last few songs of the band before us—warming up our vocal chords. As they played to a rip-roaring finale, I felt my nerves kick in.
The stage went black and that was our cue. We headed on as they rolled off, the roadies leaping into action and clearing the stage, replacing it with our instruments. As the crowd roared into the blackness, a countdown clock appeared on the big screen. It started at ten and went down to one before flashing up a picture of my dad and mum on their wedding day. The crowd went insane, screaming, clapping, stomping. I took my position in the darkness, holding the microphone stand with one hand, the microphone with the other. I glanced at Paul beside me. He flashed a thumbs-up before dropping his arm back to his bass.
Then my dad’s voice came over the speakers.
“When I met Marcella I just knew.” The video was grainy, filmed in the late eighties, but it was them. My mum and dad wrapped in each other on a couch, being interviewed.
“He lies.” My mother’s voice was laughing. “I was the one who knew and went after Jimmy.”
“And you’re together?” The reporter off screen asked the question.
My parents looked at each other. “Forever.”
With that, the drum sticks counted us in and we roared into Devil from Jackson.
“I made a deal with the Devil from Jackson, just to be with my love,” I sang into the microphone, hardly hearing myself over the roaring of the crowd.
I danced across the stage, Paul and Marco playing it up for the crowd.
On the chorus, I held out my microphone as the audience screamed at the stage. I grinned, pulling the microphone back to finish the song off.
“And for you, I’d sell my soul again!” We finished with three big drum beats and the crowd continued to scream. It took me three tries to get them to settle down.
“Good evening, Canberra.” They went mental again, and I laughed, letting the nerves and adrenaline pump through me. The nausea and fear were there, but I ignored them.
“Thanks for coming out on this hot summer night!” Again with the screaming.
“It’s been ten years since my parents passed.” They quietened down as I said this. “And while I miss them every single day, I know they’d have loved the fact that we’re rocking out to their songs tonight!” The crowd went wild.
“And now, here’s one for my mum.” The big screen started playing footage of my mum’s live tour of the song “Heaven is You.” I launched into the jazzy number, the saxophonist coming from the wings to join us.
The next songs flowed, the set broken with footage of my parents. Paul even had me performing one of Courtney’s songs. I danced, sang and played my way through the set, letting the songs flow, the vibes from the audience pushing me on.
We were on fire. Crazy. Intense. Perfect. We hit every note, danced every step. And while my heart was pounding and my stomach was tight, I was braving this out. I was strong enough.
As we roared toward the end of the set, I could see someone in the security area, in front of the mosh pit standing still. My eyes caught on his outline and I nearly stumbled over my words.
It was Suit Two. The guy who had assisted in my kidnapping.
I kept singing and dancing, looking frantically around for security. There, on the side of the stage. Shannon, one of my assigned bodyguards, had his side to me, his eyes glancing from me to backstage and back.
As the song came to an end I pretended to knock my water bottle off the stage.
“Damn!” I fake laughed as the crowd laughed with me. “Give me a minute, guys. Maybe Uncle Paul will tell you a story while I grab another one.” Without waiting, I shoved the microphone at Paul, who took it with a surprised look, and hurried to Shannon.
One of the roadies ran up with a new bottle, which I ignored. “Shannon. Guy in the suit in the security area, he’s—”
“On it.” Shannon nodded at me. “We’re good, Jetta. Just keep playing.” I swallowed my words and fear, instead turning to the roadie and accepting the water bottle. As I headed back out on stage, I caught the end of Paul’s story.
“—and then Jimmy said, ‘Well that’s what I get for selling my soul.’” The audience roared their approval as I took the microphone from Paul with a muttered thanks.
I turned to the crowd, trying to suppress my fear and ignore the solitary man at the front of the stage. “We’re nearly at the end of our set tonight.” The crowd complained and I smiled. “Sorry, guys, but all good things come to an end.”
I gestured at the big screen behind me. “But, to be really corny, we’ll always have the memories.”
The band launched into my parents’ duet, “Memories,” Marco joining his voice with mine. As we got to the end, I moved toward the centre of the stage, both Marco and I sharing the one microphone.
“And when tomorrow fades away, we’ll always have the memories of yesterday.
The memories, of forever and a day…”
I smiled at the roadie who ran out, handing me Ni
x.
“I just want to thank you for being a great audience tonight, I know Mum and Dad would have loved it.”
The crowd cheered and slowly settled as I nodded.
“Also thank you to the band, our original band, who have been amazing all night.”
Again the crowd cheered while Anthony, Marco, and Paul waved.
“This is our final song for tonight. As a bit of a surprise, you won’t know it.” The crowd roared, in approval or dismay I wasn’t sure. I waited until they settled then continued.
“This is one of my originals.” The audience roared again and I smiled. “It’s called ‘Ten Year Regret.’ Some footage of my parents will play on the big screen back there while I sing.” I paused, looking out into the thousands of faces, talking to the one person I cared about out there.
“I hope you hear the message in this song. And again, thanks for being an awesome crowd tonight.”
I glanced at Marco, who paused beside me.
“Still want this one as duet?” he mumbled, and I nodded.
“Okay, here we go.” He took a deep breath.
“We've been apart for,
So long now.
Life dividing me from you.
And I'd forgotten,
How I came here,
But I always thought of you.”
Marco nodded to me and I picked up the words.
“We were just starting,
But my heart was open,
You were all that I could see.
One simple moment,
I knew, you were it for me.”
I nodded at Marco and he grinned, sliding smoothly into the next lines, our voices mingling.
“Through the good times and the bad,” I paused and let Marco sing the next line.
“You’re the only regret I ever had.” He nodded back to me.
“The only chance I wish I could retake.”
We both started singing,
“But there’s no phone for me to call,
No letter trail, to follow
I know now and I just can't forget,
You’re my sweetest regret.” We looked out at the audience and hummed, “Mmmm… Nanana Mmmm…”
I tapered off while Marco sang the next few lines.
“In my home now.
It’s so dark out,
And I’m thinking of your skin.”
I took over, my eyes trying and failing to pick out Pax’s form in the darkness surrounding the stage.
“You come floating,
Through the moonlight,
A memory, a past I can’t unsee.
And I hope now,
That you can find me,
Wherever I may be.”
Marco and I glanced at each other and then nodded, singing in unison.
“Through the good times and the bad,
You’re the only regret I ever had.
The only chance I wish I could retake.
But there’s no phone for me to call,
No letter trail, to follow
I know now and I just can't forget
You’re my sweetest regret…
And I know now and I just can’t forget
You’re my favourite regret.”
The audience started joining in and I hoped Pax was listening.
“Nana nanana
I just can’t forget
Nana Nanana mmm
My only regret
Nana Nanana
Don’t let this time be, our final regret.”
We finished strumming to rapturous applause.
I finally saw Pax, moving through the crowd closest to the stage, eyes serious, fixed on me. The stage went dark and the audience kept screaming. Luc suddenly appeared beside me, reaching for my arm, pulling me off the stage. I followed, my eyes still on Pax, who jumped the barrier, his security jacket preventing him from being ejected. He powered toward the backstage area.
“Better go, Jet.” I glanced over at Luc, an eyebrow raised in question.
He smiled at me, his teeth stark white against the scruff of his short beard.
“The bossman is about to have a shit haemorrhage. Go be with him, preferably in the biblical sense.”
I laughed. “Seriously?”
“Gotta help a brother out. Make him grovel, then make him grovel. If you get my meaning.” He waggled his eyebrows at me and I laughed again and handed him my guitar.
“Are we safe?” I asked the question, hesitating.
“AFP said they have it in the bag. We’re just hanging out till the end to make sure.”
I nodded and started to turn away.
“Seriously though, Jetta.” He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “We’re all hoping you get through to him. The guy is my best friend, my brother. I would die for him. He nearly died for me. He deserves happiness instead of the shit he’s been forcing himself to eat for the last few years.”
I swallowed and nodded. “I got this.”
He grinned. “Yeah, you do.”
I walked off stage and was headed for my dressing room when Shannon came running toward me, a hand to his earpiece.
“I got her.” He gripped my arm under my elbow and started tugging me toward my dressing room.
“Shannon! What the he—”
“Pax just called it. We got a situation. Esso’s gone missing. The Feds lost their lock on him. Looks like he was tipped off. Shit is going down. Pax wants you safe.” I hurried my steps, practically running to my dressing room. Shannon gave it a cursory look then shoved me inside.
“Lock it.” He slammed the door shut.
I could hear the running of feet past my door, the yells and shouts. And after a moment, nothing but silence.
I was sweaty, wearing ten tonnes of make-up and dressed in my rocker dress. And I was petrified.
My anxiety needed an outlet and my eyes hit the make-up table.
I was half-way through rearranging the pots by size and colour when the wardrobe door opened. I jumped, stumbling back into the table, sending make-up and brushes crashing to the floor.
“Paul.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “You scared me. Why the fuck are you in the closet?”
He shook his head. “Oh, Jetta.” A hand came up, a gun pointed at me. “You stupid, idiotic girl.”
My heart tried to escape my chest. “Paul—Paul, what are you doing?”
“Jetta, you ruined it.” He sounded sad as he walked forward, the gun still pointed at my chest. “You and your fucking sister. You both ruin everything.” I shuffled along the table, trying to slowly inch toward the door.
“I don’t understand-”
He shook his head, eyes cold on me. All the joy he’d shown, the care earlier that night, was gone. Vanished. His eyes were dead, frozen.
“Who do you think got Jimmy on the drugs?” His grin was pure ice. “Me, of course. Your mother was at the point she was going to leave him.”
I shook my head in denial. “She never—”
“Yes. Marcella was over the partying, the groupies, the drugs. She knew you were up shit creek without a paddle. The last tours were to get out of debt.” He laughed. “But that wasn’t going to happen.”
I shook my head, still moving slowly toward the door. “But, I don’t understand. Why, Paul?”
“He took her from me. He took the band from me. Jimmy and The Band? It was my motherfucking band! Mine! Your father was some fucker who had a decent set of vocal chords! Jimmy motherfucking Oliver.” His hand shook as he spat out the angry words. “Did you know Marcella was mine? She was in my bed. We were engaged before Jimmy came. Before he took her from me. Me! Paul White! Paul the one who discovered him! Where was the honour? Where was the loyalty?” He quietened, his hand steadying.
“So I did it. I started small. Found a supplier, got your dad hooked. I only needed three things. Jimmy to be broke, homeless, alone. But Marcella stood by him. She was loyal to him. JIMMY! THE FUCKING PRICK WHO TOOK HER FROM ME!” Paul’s face was red. I hit
the end of the long make-up table and slowly took another step toward the door.
“Then Courtney’s birthday came. Marcella had confided in me that she was leaving him after it. That she needed help to leave him. That they had nothing and she needed help looking after you girls. I promised her help if she came to me again.” His smile grew manic. “She agreed.” He paused, looking at me. “You’re not getting out of this, Jetta. Courtney killed them. Both of them.” He suddenly jumped toward me, grabbing my arm and yanking me close. I stumbled against him, struggling to get away. He drew the gun up, pressing it to my head.
“And so I had to get her too. And you. You and your fucking loyalty. So like your mother.” His eyes gentled as they raked over my face. “But Courtney isn’t. So she has to go.”
I chanced a question. “So you work for Esso? He’s your supplier?” Paul threw back his head, laughing.
“Jetta.” He sobered, his face serious. “I killed the original supplier years ago and took over his supply. I am the head of this operation. I have the contacts. I have the leads and the trust.”
My body was ice cold as I looked into the face of a man I no longer recognised. “All for Mum?”
“No. All for me.” He raised his hand and brought the gun down. Pain exploded in my head, my vision billowing to black, and I knew no more.
Paxton
The little earpiece Pax had in his left ear transmitted a constant feed of activity. As he powered his way toward the backstage area, nodding at his team who were locking shit down, the voice came over.
“Esso’s gone. I repeat, target is not in the vicinity.” Pax froze, his head jerking up to survey the immediate area around him. Jetta was off stage. He didn’t know who was with her.
Pax hit the radio on his shoulder. “Secure Jetta. Lock it down. The target has disappeared. I repeat, secure Jetta, lock it down.”
Immediately, his men exploded into action. The guys on his team had been handpicked. These men were ones who knew what to do in a crisis, they were trained and ready—many from military backgrounds. When shit went down, these were the guys you wanted at your back.