by Wild, Bella
“Are you ready?” Johnny said into my ear so I could hear him above the music.
I turned to look up into his dreamy eyes, and shook my head.
He grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re going to do great.”
“I highly doubt that,” I replied.
“Relax. Remember, no one can hear you.” He held me around my shoulders. “Once you’re out there, it goes by so fast. You ride the wave, and then it’s done.”
I nodded, still trying to get my heart rate and breathing under control. Johnny’s stare was hypnotic. I found myself slowly calming down as I looked up into his eyes. My muscles relaxed under his hands as they gently massaged my shoulder blades. The crowd erupted at the final song from the opening act. With that many people screaming, whistling, and cheering, I lost it again.
Johnny smiled and kissed my forehead. “Come on.”
For a moment, my legs seemed to suddenly be made of concrete, keeping me anchored to the floor. I don’t know how, but when the other backup singers filed in ahead of me, I unfroze, and followed them out onstage. Johnny was up ahead already, and although the stage was darkened for our entrance, the crowd went wild from anticipation. He took his place, followed by the band.
I stumbled through the darkness and found my place with the cluster of other backup singers. I couldn’t remember their names, but had been briefly introduced to them earlier in the day. They were nice enough, to my face, but I could tell they were all crushed to hear I was Johnny’s new girlfriend. From the way that they stared after him, I could tell they would happily claw my eyes out if they thought it would give them a better chance to have him. If they kept that up, I would need to watch my own back just as much as I needed to watch his.
I found my microphone and grabbed the stand for support as we waited for the lights to go back on. I mentally read through the lyrics for the first song, and reminded myself—for the millionth time—that no one would actually be able to hear me singing.
I sucked in a deep, slow breath.
3…2…1…
Bam!
The lights above us exploded, sparks flying from some machines at the front of the stage, filling my eyes with the flash and sparkle. My heart rate ratcheted up another level, and my fingers gripped the mic stand so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
“What’s up, Hollywood?” Johnny screamed into his mic, receiving a roar of cheers from the crowd.
He laughed, and it sounded so sexy and raspy. I knew his stage persona had kicked in somewhere between leading us onstage and the lights exploding above us.
“Let’s get it started!”
The music was on cue, roaring to life and making the stage reverberate from the intense sound. I widened my stance as much as my skintight black dress would allow, and prepared for the contrived performance. The lyrics were all gone from my memory as the music swelled. A sidelong glance at the women stand at my side gave me a little reassurance. They were all intensely focused, and beaming. I could see it in their eyes—they would carry the show.
Johnny started to sing and made his way along the edge of the stage, reaching down and briefly accepting the outstretched hands of people in the front rows. I heard my cue, and made a go of singing my part. No one in the audience could hear me, but I still did my best to keep on key, unsure how much the girls next to me could hear. For them, I was Rachel, backup singer and Johnny’s girl. Johnny paused from the hand-holding and went back to stand center stage. He mirrored a few of the backup dancers’ moves while signing through the chorus. Again, I was riveted, and was sure I went off-track with the lyrics a couple of times, watching him, and wanting him.
After a few songs, he turned and caught my eye across the stage. He threw me a wink before strutting over to me. I held my breath as he approached, his eyes dark and full of lust as he sang a few lines of the next verse to me. He began to move closer, and pulled me out from behind the fixed microphone stand. He pulled me into him, his groin grinding against my ass, one hand wrapped around my waist. I couldn’t help but move with him. He gave me no choice, and I couldn’t just pull away and run off the stage.
Of course, the black cocktail dress costume was ridiculously short. He turned me around, and when he lifted my arms up and around his neck, I felt the dress shift even higher. The bottom hem rode way up to my ass cheeks. Startled, I stopped dancing and yanked it down to cover myself. Johnny laughed and nodded approvingly as the crowd screamed even more loudly at my reaction. I was glad when he finally moved back to the center stage to continue singing, taking the attention with him.
My face was hot with embarrassment. I smoothed my hands over my backside, checking to make sure my ass wasn’t exposed. All I could hope was that no one had caught the slight wardrobe malfunction on their camera phone. Logically, I knew the odds were high that the moment was forever captured by at least a few enthusiastic fans. The other singers paid no attention to me as they belted out their lyrics on queue. I went back to fake-singing, and Johnny was back to wooing the crowd. That was when something caught my eye.
I saw a woman in the audience, making her way closer to the stage. Her pace was not that of an eager fan. It seemed more intentional…something about her was more deliberate. She wore dark sunglasses, and there was something small and shiny in one hand, pressed flat against her chest. It kept reflecting off the overhead lights as she approached. Her behavior was not normal either. She was not dancing, singing along, or taking pictures like everyone else in the crowd. The hairs on my neck stood up as I observed her for two more beats. I looked offstage to get Fred or one of the other agents’ attention. Fred saw me, and followed my head-nod into the audience as I continued assessing her movements.
She crossed an imaginary line that was set in my mind, and I launched into action. I hurtled across the stage toward her. By the time I made it to Johnny’s side, she jumped up onto the stage. I pushed Johnny behind me, and briefly saw his shock. Thankfully, he continued singing. The woman set off a mini-frenzy—two more girls were already kicking their legs up to climb the stage after her. I got to the ringleader before she could trigger an all-out stampede onto the stage.
I tackled her to the ground and within a split second, I had her pinned, face down to the ground. Taking her down was a breeze. I used one hand to securely grip both of her wrists, while my other hand pressed her torso into the floor, ensuring she stayed put. It was only then that I noticed the slight trail of blood trickling down my arm.
ROCKED Part Four BONUS
Chapter One
Amanda
“Stop it! Get off me, bitch!” The girl screamed, struggling under my weight. “All I want is a lock of Johnny’s hair!”
I straddled her legs to keep her from kicking out of my grasp, and saw the shiny object that she had held flat against her chest. It was a pair of craft scissors. The damned thing nicked me on my arm when I took her down. I wrenched them out of her hand. In my periphery, I saw four of the private security staff huddled around Johnny.
“Amanda—” Fred and Larry were at my side in a moment, and took over. Larry slipped zip-tie cuffs around her wrists, and Fred helped me to my feet while Larry hauled her up. He ended up having to carry her offstage kicking and screaming.
“You’re bleeding,” Fred said. “Let me take a look at that arm.”
“I think it’s okay,” I told him. I held up the pair of scissors. “These are pretty dull. It’s probably the force of getting her down to the ground that made it break the skin. It barely hurts. I don’t think it’s that deep.”
“How on earth was she able to get that past the security search at the entrance?”
“I don’t know. We need to talk to the location manager.”
“Definitely. Let’s get you backstage and someone can check it out.”
I whirled around again to check on whether Johnny was okay. His eyes were wide with alarm, but he could not get close enough to talk—the four massive guards would not let him move an inch, and
no one could get near him. In spite of my minor injury, protecting Johnny was my priority, so I waited for him to be brought off stage. Kevin rushed in as Fred led me off. He seemed just as shocked to see me bleeding as we crossed paths. Still, he said nothing to me. He took the microphone and had the guards bring Johnny off stage.
“Ladies. Gentlemen. Let’s hear it for Johnny Q Venom!” Kevin’s voice boomed across the frenzied crowd. “We’re going to have a quick break and get you some more of Johnny’s top hits very shortly.”
Seconds later, the lights around us dimmed, and just a spotlight at the front of the stage remained on. Kevin and the backup performers left the stage. The band played an instrumental piece until the sound crew was able to put on some of Johnny’s pre-recorded songs. It was a smart move to have them carry on; otherwise people in the audience would have panicked.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about me. Look at you! Your arm is cut!” He looked toward the greenroom far off stage. “Someone get us one of those medics!”
“It’s not that bad, Johnny,” I told him, hoping he would calm down.
“Johnny, are you all right?” Kevin asked, as soon as he stepped backstage.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Look, nothing happened to me, okay? Get some help for Amanda! Look at her. She’s bleeding, for Christ’s sake.”
Despite my objection, Fred made me go to the greenroom, and Johnny anxiously followed behind with the four guards. Someone got one of the first responder staff to look at my wound. Just as I thought, it was not serious. It didn’t need stitches either—a large square adhesive bandage did the trick, and I was good to go.
Johnny was relieved, and at first, did not want to leave my side.
“I’m fine. Really. It’s a little scratch. Don’t worry about it, Johnny. You should get back out there.”
He reached out to smooth a stray lock of hair from my forehead, not saying anything.
“I’m okay,” I said again.
“She’s right, Johnny,” Kevin concurred, gesturing out to the stage area. “Let’s get this show back on track. Your fans want you.”
Kevin didn’t look directly at me; he seemed nervous and edgy, which was understandable. My guess was he viewed me as the reason for the interruption.
“Okay. I’ll grab a drink and get started in a couple minutes,” he said to Kevin, then turned back to me. “You’re going to take it easy the rest of the show, right?”
“No,” I told him firmly. “I’m perfectly fine, Johnny. I was doing my job. Things like this happen all the time.”
“Shit. Okay fine.” With that, he went back onstage, looking back at me with concern every few steps he took.
“I’ll get everyone else together,” Kevin told us, and started rounding up the band and backup girls. He walked back over to me and said, “You might want to fix your dress before you go back out.”
I stood up and swept my hands over my dress. To my horror, it was several inches shorter than intended, which was super-short to begin with. The flesh colored shapewear the wardrobe people made me wear was also showing. In the tussle, I hadn’t noticed it had been pushed far up my legs. My cheeks were warm with mild embarrassment, but I straightened myself out and went back to the stage.
*****
The rest of the show went off without a hitch. I stayed onstage and did my part. I made an extra effort to keep up the backup-singer act, although I was sure my cover had been blown. It was hard to stay focused on the rest of the performance with all the unanswered questions going through my mind. I knew Fred and his team would look into whether the girl was actually dangerous, or more importantly, if she could be Johnny’s stalker. They would have a piece of her identification by now, and could determine why she did it.
For the rest of the performance, I mouthed the words of the songs, missed lines and clumsily botched my way through the freestyle dance portion I had been so worried about. I hardly noticed, though, and the singers beside me paid even less attention to me after my fan-tackle move. My guess was they felt I was not to be messed with. If that were the case, I would not mind being perceived as Johnny’s badass girlfriend who threw down with anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way.
There was another short scheduled break, with very little time to check in with Fred, given the wardrobe change before the second half. By then the crowd was slightly less amped up, Johnny was in his element and things moved fast. I was thankful when he sang his final encore, took a bow, and waved goodbye to the audience. The lights faded out, and we exited the stage.
Johnny made a beeline to me, followed closely by the four extra private security guys waiting off stage. He hooked his arm around my waist and practically dragged me toward his dressing room, not stopping to talk with anyone. I didn’t try to resist—it seemed like he would pick me up and carry me if I had. He kept looking over at me with a worried expression. I swept my gaze back and forth as I looked for Fred, desperate to get the scoop on what had happened after Larry had dragged the girl away.
He told the men to wait at the door, and pulled me inside.
“Amanda, come on. Talk to me,” he said as he shut and locked the door behind me. “Are you sure you’re fine?”
I looked up at him and nodded. “Positive. Nothing to worry about.”
He looked at the bandage on my arm. “Christ!” he shouted, raking a hand through his hair as he began to pace around the small room. “This is all my fault.”
“No it’s not. You can’t stop crazed fans from loving your music, or from showing up at your concerts.”
“I know,” he said apprehensively. “I should not have brought you…um, I mean I should not have let them put you out in front like this. You’re too exposed.”
“That’s the whole point of my being up there, Johnny. She could have gotten to you.”
“Yes I understand all that. I…I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“Look at me,” I said, reaching up to his shoulders to get him to stop pacing and focus on me. “I’m perfectly fine. I was trained for this kind of work. And I’m really strong. This little nick on the arm was nothing compared to my MMA days. So don’t worry about me, okay?”
He let out a breath and kissed my forehead. “I’m still going to worry about you, but okay. I’m glad it wasn’t serious.”
He pulled me into his arms and was about to kiss me when someone knocked on the door.
Chapter Two
Amanda
“I’ll get it,” I told him, pulling away. Fred was waiting outside when I propped the door, so I let him in.
“What the hell was that?” Johnny demanded of Fred. The burst of anger caught me off guard. “Who was that? And how did she manage to get onto my stage? I mean holy shit! That was insane! What if she had been holding a more dangerous weapon or something?” He began to pace again, and we looked on as he unraveled. “Shit!”
“Johnny, calm down,” I whispered.
I got a glimpse of the blazing look in his eyes and placed a hand on his forearm. Finally, he gave a nod. The fire in his eyes subsided and his breathing seemed to release.
“Was she the stalker?” Johnny asked.
“It doesn’t look that way. She’s a minor. We questioned her, and had the field office run her ID through the available young offender databases. She’s clean. It seems she’s just an overzealous fan. Other than her wallet, the pair of scissors and a sandwich bag, she had nothing on her. Just to be safe, we contacted her parents. We will also follow up tomorrow about her whereabouts and computer activity over the last few weeks.”
I had expected as much. The cyber-stalker Fred’s men were after would not show up with scissors and a Ziploc bag for Johnny’s lock of hair.
Johnny however, seemed disappointed. “Well that sucks. If it had been the stalker, this nightmare would be over for all of us.”
“True, but until she surfaces, we have to expect incidents like this.”
“I s
till think it could have been avoided, Fred. What the hell were the guards in the audience doing? None of them even made an effort to stop her from climbing up on stage like that.”
Fred nodded, but did not respond. He was not to blame, in my view. The security in the audience was provided by the location, with a spattering of guards from the private security team Kevin had hired.
“Do you need anything from us?” Johnny asked.
He shook his head. “No. Wait here with Amanda. I’ll find Kevin and brief him. We’ll be ready to leave whenever you are.”
“Thank you,” I said to Fred.
Johnny immediately crossed the room and sank into a chair after Fred left. “What a nightmare,” he said, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees.
I locked the dressing room door and leaned back against it. “Come on, now. You can’t be suggesting this is the worst thing that’s happened on stage since you’ve been in the music business. Is it?”
“No. Not at all,” he said, staring down at the floor in front of him. “I…I didn’t think anything would happen to you.”
“Tackling that girl was not half as bad as when you flashed my butt to the crowd,” I teased, trying to cheer him up.
Johnny smiled. “They enjoyed it. They know a fine piece of ass when they see it.”
I smiled. His tension was starting to break. I crossed the room and sat in the chair across from him, my ankles protesting against standing any longer in these stiletto heels. I slipped off the shoes and reached down to massage my foot, twisting and stretching it back and forth along the arches.
“Here,” Johnny said, gesturing for my foot.
I looked up and met his eyes. “It’s okay. I’m good.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Amanda. I insist.”
Slowly, I extended my leg, and he grasped my foot. He slid his hands over the smoothness of the nude-colored stockings, and ran his thumbs along the arch of my foot. I let my head drop to the headrest, moaning as he massaged my aching sole. I relaxed in the chair and closed my eyes for a few minutes as he worked out the sore muscles. He placed my foot back on the floor and took the other, continuing to knead. It was heavenly. He paused, and I opened my eyes to see if he was finished. His eyes were studying me, dark with a familiar expression—pure, unapologetic lust.