by Ana Novak
“Even if this whole thing blows up in our face?” A dozen different scenarios flitted through my head in that moment. My dad could disavow all knowledge of my existence. Shane and Van’s music careers could plummet. The tabloids could twist this into some kind of weird love triangle and accuse us of lying.
Shane didn’t flinch. “Stop thinking,” he ordered. “Kiss me.”
“But- my lipstick-”
His mouth came down on mine before I could finish my sentence, and all thoughts of Van and what I was about to do abruptly fled my mind. I froze for a moment before kissing him back, tasting peppermint and the heat of his mouth, drowning in the ecstasy of his tongue against mine. The hot, glittery rush surged everywhere, and I clutched desperately at his jacket, leaning against him and letting him support my weight. When he finally pulled back, my knees almost gave out, but he steadied me with his arm around my waist.
“Better?” he asked softly, and I looked up at him, dazed.
“Did you smear my lipstick?” was all I could say.
Shane shook his head, and that smirk was back on his face. “You look perfect,” he said. “Damn, I’m good.”
I opened my mouth to argue with him, because snarky comebacks were one of the best things about our relationship, but then I heard Van. Not singing this time, just talking, and I knew that it was almost my cue.
I grabbed Shane’s hand, clutching at him like a lifeline, and waited breathlessly, listening to Van’s voice.
“I’d like to introduce you to someone who is incredibly special to me, someone who has supported me since long before I was a kid busking with a guitar in the New York subway,” he said, and the crowd tittered, as if the thought of Arnold Kane’s son playing for tips in a subway was laughable, even though it was true. Van continued, “She’s one of the most important people in my life, and it’s time I tell all of you exactly who she is. I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Taylor Merrick.”
The moment I heard my name, I froze. Try as I might, I couldn’t move.
Sensing my distress, Shane yanked the door open, pulling me with him as he stepped out into the ballroom. My feet followed him of their own accord even though the rest of me was paralyzed with fear. There was a collective gasp, and then a flurry of whispers, not quite drowned out by the applause at my introduction.
Shane used one hand on my lower back to keep me moving forward. He ducked down so that his lips were right by my ear. “You can do this. Focus on me. Focus on Van.”
We were almost to the stage when my feet stopped moving, and Shane cursed under his breath when he had to stop short to avoid colliding with me.
My father was in front of the stage, Teresa on his arm. When she saw me, she smiled and waved, that adorable little finger wave that only the thin and beautiful can pull off. My dad turned toward me, and I saw the downturned corners of his mouth. I held Shane’s hand tighter, but he gently pried his fingers free.
The crowd fell silent, and a cameraman prowled in front of me, trying to catch my reaction.
Shane was the first to act, moving forward and holding out his hand. “Honored to meet you, Mr. Kane,” he said. “I’m Shane Kruger, and I’m in love with your daughter.”
It couldn’t have been more cheesy if we’d planned it, complete with the gasps of surprise and token awwws from the crowd, and if I hadn’t been about to swallow my own tongue, I would have rolled my eyes.
But it worked. Shane had broken the ice. My father’s expression softened, and he shook Shane’s hand. “Arnold Kane,” he said gruffly. “And you’re a smart man. My daughter’s very special.”
When he’d released Shane’s hand, he stepped toward me, and I looked into his dark eyes that looked so much like mine, my heart skipping every other beat because I didn’t know what he would do.
“I’m proud of you,” he said finally, and held out of his arms.
My breath caught in my throat. “Thank you, Dad,” I whispered, walking straight into his hug. His arms closed around me, the tightest I could ever remember them being, and camera flashes went off all around us. I closed my eyes against them, savoring the moment as I best I could while standing in the middle of a packed ballroom.
At last he released me, and Van held out his hand, and I climbed the steps to the stage, feeling a little like Cinderella at the ball and unsure if I liked it or not. Tears were already pricking at the corners of my eyes. Van motioned me toward the microphone, and I moved to stand in front of it, one hand loosely gripping the stand.
Van saved me. “Taylor is going to sing a song you might already be familiar with,” he said into his mic before picking up his acoustic guitar and lifting the strap over his head. “It’s called Scorched by Her Touch.”
The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, and Van held up a hand, signaling for silence. “Kanesthetix released this on our debut album six years ago, and it was our first hit single.” He turned, speaking sideways into the microphone while looking at me. “What you don’t know is that it’s actually Taylor’s song. She wrote it, and we produced it together so I could include it on the album.”
I remembered that I’d been credited in the album footnotes as T.K., but that had been as far as we were willing to venture without revealing our secret to the world.
“Now you’re going to hear this song the way it was originally meant to be sang,” Van said. “Ladies and gentleman, Taylor Kane Merrick.”
The applause was loud enough to make me take a step back from the mic, but then I looked down and saw Shane standing there, looking up at me with his heart in his eyes. I love you, he mouthed, and I smiled through my tears.
Van began to play his guitar, and the familiar chords washed over me. I’d written this such a long time ago, but the emotion of the song still echoed within me every time I heard it. Trembling, I pulled the mic to my mouth and began to sing.
He’s the danger, he’s the haven
In the dark, I feel his heat
Feel him burning me
Hunt the fire and chase disaster
All I can’t, but all I need
He’s all I need
When Van and I had rewritten it for his album, we’d changed the subject of the lyrics to be female, knowing that there were millions of women out there who would fall for Van’s voice crooning a tortured love song. I sang the original lyrics, just as I’d meant them to be sung, and as I moved onto the chorus, the ballroom was so silent that every word resonated with crystal clarity.
Are you ready for the firestorm?
Are you ready for this blistered heart?
The love you scorched into my soul has me coming back for more
I’m on fire from within
My soul is melted by your memory
Down to my twisted, crumbling heart
Since you woke me up inside you’ve been keeping me alive
I’m on fire from within
And I’m burning down
The lyrics had been abstract when I’d written them. I’d been in love with Dave, but it had been a safe, naive kind of love from a woman who had yet to experience life at its fullest. For the first time in my life, the song that I was singing was connecting with me on a deeper, more visceral level. I glanced down at Shane and saw that he had his phone out, waving it in the air like it was a real concert and not just me trying desperately to overcome my stage fright. Others were soon following suit, and then someone turned down the lights on the audience, and I saw a sea of lights before me.
He’s the villain, I’m the victim
Without his sun, my bones decay
I waste away
Search for meaning, lose the memory
I’m unafraid but too unchained
Too unchained
When I got to the chorus this time, the crowd began singing along, having caught the minor changes I’d made to the lyrics the first time around. Their arms began to sway, the blue lights gliding back and forth before my eyes. I took a deep, shuddering breath before launching
into the key change of the last verse.
All alone, but the memory of your love melts my soul down
Down to my bones, down to my heart, a twisted mess of falling apart
You’re the flame to my frostbite, the cure to my disease
And I’m scorched by your touch when you’re nowhere near me
I finished on a clear, high note, repeating the last line of the song:
And I’m scorched by your touch when you’re nowhere near me
Silence followed the final note, and I stepped back from the microphone, watching and hardly daring to breathe as the cell phones were lowered.
Then Van was beside me, and he pulled me into his arms, and for a moment all I could hear was cheering and applause.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” I said, clinging to him and sniffling desperately.
Van pulled back. “That was all you,” he said, and I could tell he was trying to keep from crying, too. “I love you, sis.”
I smiled up at him, my breath still hitching as I fought back my sobs. “Thank you for this, Van,” I told him hoarsely. “I mean it.”
Van looked up, and I realized that Shane had appeared beside us, oblivious to the screams of the crowd around us, his eyes on me.
“Thanks for taking care of her,” Van said, and extended his hand.
Shane nodded, shaking Van’s hand firmly before turning to me. “Are you okay?” he asked, and I was struck again by how completely unaffected he was by the turmoil around us.
“I’m okay,” I said, and grabbing his jacket, pulled him down for a long kiss that felt like exactly the right thing to do in front of five hundred people with cameras.
“No more hiding,” he said against my lips, and I smiled and kissed him again.