Idol

by Carrie Duffy

  Quickly, Jenna stripped naked – her dress was the kind that didn’t require any underwear, as the slightest line would show under the sheer material. Jenna slipped it over her head and smoothed it down, letting it slither over every curve. The dress was white silk, slashed to the navel and held in place with a single diamond clasp. Loose folds of material draped around her body, giving the erotic illusion that it might spill open at any moment.

  Hair and make-up moved in for touch-ups, and then Jenna was free to go. She made her way to the very edge of the stage, a treacherous journey in Swarovski-studded Louboutins. The sight on stage took her breath away. Phoenix were tearing up the place. A crowd of girls had surged to the front and were screaming uncontrollably, clutching at their hair. Some were crying and one had even fainted. The paramedics lifted her over the crash barriers and carried her backstage. It was like the old footage of Beatlemania, thought Jenna breathlessly.

  Zac grinned at the crowd, who screamed hysterically in return, before taking hold of the microphone and ripping into the song. His vocals were full of raw sexuality, strong and powerful. Jenna had never seen him so confident, so utterly at ease as he was on the stage. He was dressed all in black – snake-hipped in skinny jeans, shirt and boots, with black kohled eyes and silver jewellery. He looked like a rock star. He looked sexy, Jenna realized, as she watched in awe. She felt a delicious tingle run through her body, a rush of heat between her legs. Christ, what the hell was going on with her? It was Zac, for God’s sake!

  It must be the nerves, she insisted to herself as she watched him prowl around the stage. His body was lean and toned, his jeans tight enough to show the considerable bulge of his crotch. Focus, dammit, she told herself sharply, grateful that no one could see the way her cheeks were blazing in the darkness.

  She jumped as a tech guy approached, walkie-talkie in hand.

  ‘Stand by, Miss Jonsson.’

  He miked her up and she slipped her earpiece into place. She tried to stay calm, but the adrenaline had kicked in. She was so keyed up she felt as if she could sprint a marathon in heels. Outside there was a deathly hush in the arena, as the entire place waited for her to make her entrance. Then she heard Zac announce her name. The powerful chords rang out of his guitar as the bass line kicked in and Nick completed the opening drum riff. Jenna walked on to deafening applause.

  Her voice rang out, clear and strong across the auditorium. This time there was to be no backing dancers, no complicated routine. They wanted to let the power of the music speak for itself. The crowd stayed largely silent, eagerly listening to the track as they waved their arms in the air and took photos on their phones.

  I hope you’re proud of me, Mum.

  The thought hit Jenna like a blow to the solar plexus, and for a moment she faltered. Zac looked over in concern but Jenna had already pulled it back, as she closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the song. ‘Without You’ hit the chorus and Jenna’s voice soared, choked with emotion. It was a badly needed catharsis; all the loneliness, all the grief, all the unbearable pressure she’d been under came flooding out as she found solace in the music – the one constant in her life that had stayed with her and would never let her down.

  As the final notes from the guitar melted away, the place erupted. Tears were streaming down Jenna’s face and she hadn’t even noticed. The others came over to join her and the four of them stood centre stage, arms around each other as they took in the applause.

  Then Nick broke away from the group, heading over to grab a microphone. Jenna looked at him in surprise as he turned to the audience, his voice booming out over the speakers.

  ‘Hey everybody – I kinda have something I’d like to say. I haven’t really planned it very well – it’s pretty spur of the moment – so I’m sorta hoping you’ll bear with me on this.’

  Jenna looked around, wondering what was going on. Ryan and Zac returned her gaze with equally confused looks, and she could see one of the producers backstage speaking urgently into his mouthpiece. They had a tight schedule to keep to for the TV networks and couldn’t afford any upsets.

  Nick’s voice echoed round The Colosseum. ‘As I’m pretty sure everyone here knows, I’m lucky enough to be dating this incredible woman.’ He gestured towards Jenna, who was hastily wiping her eyes. ‘Isn’t she spectacular?’

  Jenna blushed, feeling a little like a museum exhibit as the crowd stared and wolf-whistled.

  ‘I gotta admit – and I never thought I’d say this about anyone – but I’m totally crazy about her. I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to settle down – Lord knows I certainly enjoyed my time as a bachelor,’ he smirked, as the girls in the front row screamed. ‘But it turns out I just hadn’t met the right woman. I guess what I’m really trying to say here is …’ Nick dropped to one knee and the audience began to whoop.

  Jenna’s mind was racing. There was a television camera right in her face capturing every reaction, but it was all happening too fast. Surely he wasn’t going to …?

  ‘Jenna Jonsson,’ Nick began, a dazzling grin on his handsome face. ‘Will you marry me?’

  27

  Fireworks exploded, lighting up the night sky above The Colosseum as the Escalade carrying Sadie Laine and Tyrone Cole pulled away from Caesars. Sadie peered through the tinted window at the brilliant colours – reds, greens and yellows – fired from the illuminated rooftop that signalled the end of the show. On the sidewalk, tourists stopped walking, craning their necks upwards to watch. Even in a city famed for its extraordinary sights, the display was impressive.

  Sadie settled back into the luxurious car seats, smoothing down her dress. She’d run into the Forum Shops after her performance and grabbed the first thing she found. It was a gorgeous, rich red number that fitted tightly over her slim body, with a slash neck and a skirt that stopped high on her thigh, showing off those amazing legs. She’d wiped off the heavy performance make-up and added just a slick of mascara and red lip gloss, wanting to give her skin a chance to breathe. Her hair still retained the enormous volume from the show, and she’d simply pulled it back into a loose, classic ponytail, teamed with a pair of statement earrings. Tyrone hadn’t been able to stop grinning when he’d seen her.

  He was looking pretty hot himself, Sadie thought, telling herself that the goose-bumps on her arms were from the evening air – never mind that it was Vegas and the temperature in summer didn’t drop below twenty, even in the middle of the night. Tyrone was dressed simply but smartly in blue jeans and brown loafers, with a tan belt and a crisp, white shirt, unbuttoned to show the smooth dark skin below. His black hair was closely cropped and he was freshly shaven, smelling of Allure Homme. He seemed quietly confident, completely at ease with himself.

  They swung onto the Strip, heading north. ‘Where are we going?’ Sadie asked.

  ‘One of my favourite places,’ Tyrone told her, with a wide grin. His voice was deep – he had a smooth, Midwestern accent.

  Sadie watched one enormous hotel after another flash by, wondering which Michelin-starred restaurant or hot new eaterie he would be choosing. She hoped it wasn’t anywhere too pretentious – after her crazy day she wanted to relax, not feel as if it was some sort of endurance trial.

  Soon they left the central Strip behind and hit downtown. Sadie was surprised to find their SUV crawling through the backstreets, finally stopping outside a tiny, unexceptional-looking Mexican joint a few blocks from Fremont Street.

  ‘Here?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘This place does the best Mexican food this side of Cabo,’ Tyrone promised her. ‘Is that okay, or did you want to go some place fancy?’

  Sadie broke into a dazzling smile. ‘This is perfect,’ she told him honestly.

  Tyrone helped her out of the car, taking hold of her hand as he led her inside. Sadie’s skin tingled deliciously; she liked the feel of his large, masculine hand enveloping her tiny one.

  The restaurant owner greeted Tyrone like an old friend. A short, South American
guy with a thick moustache, he repeatedly kissed Sadie’s hand and pronounced her to be ‘very beautiful’. He seemed to be expecting them and they were ushered to a table at the back, shielded from most of the restaurant by a cheap white plastic trellis. A thick yellow candle burned in the middle of the table, dropping wax onto the chequered tablecloth.

  ‘The guys on the team sometimes come here when they’re in town,’ Tyrone explained, his hand on Sadie’s back as he steered her towards the table. ‘Sometimes a little piece of fish at Nobu ain’t gonna do the job, you know what I’m saying?’

  ‘I know what you’re saying,’ Sadie grinned. And she did. Tyrone was a wealthy guy, but he didn’t need to flaunt it. The Rolex, the designer clothes, the diamond ear stud – everything was discreet. He was totally down-to-earth, self-assured enough that he didn’t need to put on a show for anyone.

  Keeping it real, as the Americans say.

  The owner produced their menus with a flourish. Sadie scanned over the delicious-sounding choices, but when she glanced up to ask Tyrone what was good, she realized that a group of people were hovering around their table, nervously waiting to ask him for his autograph. She watched quietly, increasingly impressed with what she saw. He dealt with them all respectfully and politely, making a point of speaking to everyone. When they had all got their photographs and signed napkins, the crowd drifted away and left them alone.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Tyrone apologized.

  ‘No problem. Is it like that everywhere you go?’

  ‘It can be. But people are usually polite. Unless you’ve just lost a game – then they’re not so happy.’

  The owner returned with a bottle of Baja red. Tyrone raised his glass as the candlelight flickered over his face.

  ‘What are we toasting?’ Sadie asked, feeling her heart start to beat a little faster.

  Tyrone cleared his throat. ‘To Sadie Laine, the best goddamn dancer I’ve ever seen.’

  Sadie giggled. ‘I’ll drink to that.’ The wine was delicious, rich and fruity. After her long day she felt it hit her system almost immediately. She settled back in her chair, looking at the gorgeous man opposite her through the hazy light. Tyrone was a big guy, with a broad chest, strong arms, and thighs so wide that they overshot the small seat he was sitting on. It was impossible not to feel feminine and fragile in his presence. If they made love he would crush her, Sadie thought, then felt herself flush at the image, taking a gulp of wine to cover it.

  ‘Do you like it here?’ Tyrone asked. His lips showed the trace of a smile, like he was teasing her somehow. She hoped her face hadn’t given away what she was thinking.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ Sadie smiled, glad to have an excuse to look away from him as she stared round at the dusty vases of dried flowers and the crude paintings of Mexico hanging on the plaster walls.

  ‘Not what you were expecting?’

  ‘No,’ Sadie shook her head. ‘But that’s not a bad thing.’

  Tyrone took a long swallow of his wine then stared straight at her. ‘I was really disappointed when you didn’t show the other night.’

  Sadie looked awkward. ‘I was tired after the Kandy Girls and—’

  ‘I wanted to prove that I’m not all about the fancy places, about going somewhere just ’cos it’s the place to be,’ Tyrone cut in. ‘You don’t seem like the kind of girl who’s impressed by all of that. Am I right?’

  ‘Well, I don’t mind a little luxury now and then,’ Sadie conceded with a grin. ‘But yeah, you’re right, there’s more to life than that. You can get dazzled by the glitz and not see the reality,’ she finished, her tone bitter as her thoughts unwillingly came back to Paul Austin. But now it was going to be different. She and Jenna had made a pact, and they were going to take that bastard down. Two strong, intelligent women working together – Paul didn’t stand a chance, she thought delightedly, as the food arrived and she pulled her attention back to Tyrone.

  They ate burritos, perfectly spicy and smothered in Jack cheese, with refried beans and sour cream. Sadie found she was ravenous and, as Tyrone had said, the food was fantastic.

  He speared a forkful of salad and looked at her admiringly. ‘You know, I don’t know how you do what you do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Tyrone grinned. ‘You should see me dance. It’s embarrassing.’

  ‘I’d like to see that sometime,’ Sadie teased, as Tyrone laughed.

  ‘Believe me, you wouldn’t. But you’re so good at what you do. Like tonight – that routine was sick, and you learnt it in what, a few hours? I could never do that.’

  ‘Well, I could never do your job,’ Sadie shrugged. She’d seen enough American football to know that it was a tough, physical game. It wasn’t surprising that Tyrone was in such amazing shape.

  ‘Nah, that’s just instinctive,’ Tyrone disagreed. ‘It’s all basic stuff – running, throwing, catching. I can just do it real well,’ he joked. ‘But if I had to learn it – remember a routine like that – man, they wouldn’t even let me out of the locker rooms.’

  ‘Yeah, but what I do is instinctive too,’ Sadie became animated as she tried to explain herself. ‘It just comes so easily to me. I mean, learning a routine – that takes work, of course. Hard work. But I love it so much that it doesn’t feel like any effort. Do you know what I’m saying?’

  Tyrone nodded his head thoughtfully. She was so passionate about what she did, it was a joy to watch her.

  ‘So what was it like working with Jenna Jonsson?’ he asked conversationally.

  Sadie made a noncommittal noise. She still wasn’t sure what she thought about Jenna – she’d spent five years hating her guts and now they were supposed to be working together. It seemed pretty messed-up.

  ‘That proposal thing was crazy,’ Tyrone continued. ‘You think it’s for real, or publicity?’

  Sadie shrugged. ‘Who knows? Nick Taylor’s a total sleaze though.’

  Tyrone raised his eyebrows. ‘You know the guy – that dude from the band?’

  ‘Not exactly … Look, do you mind if we change the subject?’ Sadie tried to keep her tone light but she didn’t want to talk about Jenna right now. If she wanted to mess up her life by marrying a guy that couldn’t be trusted as far as you could throw him, then that was up to her, but Sadie would have bet money on the fact there wouldn’t be a happy ending.

  ‘Sure,’ Tyrone said easily. ‘Let’s talk about you.’

  ‘Okay …’ Sadie agreed.

  ‘Tell me about yourself. You’re from London, right?’

  ‘Uh huh. Born and raised.’

  Tyrone looked surprised. ‘I didn’t know anyone actually grew up in London – people always move to big cities, but you hardly ever meet anyone who was born there. Where I’m from, in Ohio, it’s real small. Three thousand people in town, that’s all, so it’s a little different. Do you miss it?’

  ‘Yeah, I do,’ Sadie admitted, feeling a pang of sadness as she thought of her home town, the family and friends she’d left back there. ‘There’s always something exciting happening, and it’s so full of energy. Have you ever been?’

  Tyrone shook his head. ‘I’d like to, though.’

  There was a long pause as they looked at each other.

  ‘But I love Vegas,’ Sadie changed the subject, feeling her cheeks flush. ‘It’s crazy here – and the weather’s fantastic.’

  ‘Your career’s exploding out here. The Kandy Girls are where it’s at right now.’

  ‘Yeah …’ Sadie felt a surge of pride as she thought about it. ‘So did you always want to play football?’ she asked, spinning it around to him. She was trying to get out of the habit of calling it American football.

  ‘Pretty much,’ Tyrone grinned. He told her how he’d been the star athlete in high school before moving across the country to play football for USC. He’d dropped out in his final year and been drafted by the San Diego Chargers, where he’d played ever since.

  Sadie watched him as he spoke, the sexy wa
y his right cheek dimpled when he smiled, and the cute crease that appeared between his eyebrows when he was deep in thought. He made her feel totally at ease, totally secure. It was such a change for a guy to be genuinely interested in her – not just going through the motions like Paul had. He hadn’t given a shit about her, Sadie thought darkly, just used her for what he wanted.

  But the information Jenna had given her was the key to bringing him down, she felt sure of it. She was giddy with the prospect of revenge, turning the possibilities over in her mind as she racked her brain to try and remember the names of the clients he’d mentioned. Maybe she could contact them, find out if they’d experienced any irregularities with their accounts. She would get on the Internet again, see if a fresh search would bring up anything new, and call Carla in case she had any ideas …

  ‘Are you okay?’ Tyrone asked, looking worried.

  ‘Just tired,’ Sadie lied quickly. She felt bad. He was a great guy, and he didn’t deserve this, but what was she supposed to say? Sorry I’m a little distracted, but I may have just found a way to get my revenge on the guy who secretly filmed me having a threesome? It wasn’t happening.

  They skipped dessert as Sadie was full to bursting, but lingered over the wine.

  As Tyrone called for the bill, the manager hurried over with a lethal-looking bottle of tequila and three shot glasses. He poured generously, and insisted on joining them. Sadie recklessly threw back her drink, feeling the alcohol burn her throat. It stung her eyes and she opened her mouth, expecting to breathe fire. Tyrone put his arm around her, and she leaned against him for support as they made their way out of the restaurant.