Epic (Fierce)

by Voight, Ginger

  I nodded. I took a deep breath as my arms slipped around his neck and my fingers ran through the silky short strands of his hair. But as much as I wanted to let myself go into the character, this wasn’t my Jace. And it felt wrong.

  I started to withdraw. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  He held me tight. His eyes fell toward my mouth, and I couldn’t move away as his head descended toward my own. Though the video only called for a near-kiss, Griffin’s lips covered my own. For one split moment, something sizzled between us that felt almost a little too real, and it made both of us break apart almost simultaneously. In his eyes I could see that he instantly regretted the spontaneous method acting. If he had forgotten I wasn’t one of his paper dolls for the sake of the photo shoot, he instantly remembered the minute my lips parted in shock under his. “I’m sorry,” he was quick to offer, but I fled from the balcony and escaped into the bathroom to put as many barriers between me and this confusing guitarist as possible.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  New York City, NY

  June 30, 2012

  Though I knew it did nothing for my “diva” reputation, I left the penthouse that night without finishing the shoot. Emma, not Griffin, had texted me more than once to extend his apologies for his “unprofessional behavior.” It annoyed me even further that he couldn’t be bothered to say he was sorry personally. I could only assume that he was likely still disgusted by our little rehearsal gone awry.

  Corey wanted to know all the details of my exciting shoot the minute I walked through the door, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what had happened. I felt like a colossal failure both as a performer and as a woman. There was only one person who could help me now.

  I went to my room and fired up the video chat to talk to my love, Jace. He knew I was in bad shape the minute he saw my face. “What’s wrong, babe?”

  I burst into tears as I told him what had happened. I felt ashamed and humiliated, but moreover I felt like I had betrayed him. I was beginning to suspect that was at the core of my problem. I couldn’t loosen up with Griffin because I felt disloyal to the man who had done nothing but love me and support me through the worst of circumstances. After everything I put him through being married to Eddie, I couldn’t bear to risk hurting him with someone who didn’t even matter to me.

  He had to suppress his smile when I lamented what a rotten a girlfriend I was after what happened on the terrace. “Why are you smiling?” I wailed.

  “Oh, Jordi,” he said with a sigh. “When are you going to stop beating yourself up?”

  “When I stop fucking up,” I said as I blew my nose.

  “Then prepare to be your worst enemy for the rest of your life,” he advised gently. “You’re going to fuck up. You’re going to make mistakes. It’s the unfortunate byproduct of being human.”

  “Well, I’m not doing this stupid video,” I decided. It wasn’t worth it. Not for me, not for my relationship, not even for my career.

  “I hate to break it to you, baby, but that’s the biggest mistake of all.” I shook my head. I didn’t see it that way. So he changed tactics. “If the situation was reversed and Roxy was directing me in a video where I had to romance someone else, would you want me to quit?”

  “Of course not,” I said instantly. I’d never do anything to jeopardize his success. Being with me was challenge enough for his image. “But that’s different and you know it.”

  “What’s so different about it?”

  “Look at you!” I exclaimed. “You’re gorgeous. Everyone on the planet would buy that you could get the hot girl.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “And you can’t get a hot guy? I think I’m offended.”

  I laughed in the middle of my tears. “You know what I mean.”

  He paused as he studied my image on his computer. “I don’t think this has anything to do with me or with Griffin or with the audience. This is all you, Jordi. And this is your chance to figure it out. You’ve done everything in your power to make yourself unworthy of sex. And I think that stems directly back to Shane and what he did to you.”

  I felt my soul slam shut on the suggestion. “This has nothing to do with Shane,” I denied immediately. “That was a million years ago. And he can’t hurt me anymore.”

  “You’re right,” Jace agreed. “Only you can hurt you now. And you’re doing a bang-up job by walking away from this opportunity. This video isn’t just about a song, Jordi. It never was. It’s about you owning who you are and saving that broken, humiliated little girl Shane did his best to destroy. And it doesn’t matter what I say, what Roxy says, what Vanni, Graham or Griffin says. Until you decide that you are worth more than the tiny little box the world wants to stuff you in, you’re never going to be who you are meant to be. And that’s worse than anything Shane could have ever done.”

  It was some plain talk from my better half. It would have been a lot less painful to hear had I been able to slide into his arms and feel his love wrap around me like the blanket… or suit of armor… that it was. But I was a big girl now, and it was high time I started acting like it. I called Roxy personally to apologize for my behavior. I promised I’d be back the next night to complete the shoot.

  I also sent a text to Emma to let her know I’d be at the shoot the following night as scheduled. “Please extend my sincere apologies to Mr. Slade for my own unprofessional behavior,” I texted.

  To my surprise, she was quick to reply. “Griffin will be having an early dinner tonight with Angus. We’d love for you to join us to discuss the song for A Journey Home if you can fit it in your schedule.” She texted the name of the restaurant and the exact time everyone would meet. I sighed as I read it. I knew that the professional thing to do would be to join them, but the thought of seeing Griffin again made my stomach tie itself in an apprehensive knot.

  My discomfort got worse the closer it got to six o’clock. I went back and forth whether or not I should go; ultimately deciding it might ease me into the even more uncomfortable video shoot later if I could relate to Griffin on a more social level. But I was a mess of tangled nerves the entire cab ride through the narrow, crowded streets of Chinatown. It got even worse when I walked into the tiny, hole-in-the-wall restaurant where Griffin and his posse occupied a large table in the back.

  Emma was the first to notice my arrival. She hopped up to wave me over, so the host walked me toward the large, full table. Griffin sat in between Emma and Angus Newhouse, whom I recognized immediately thanks to his shock of carrot-orange hair. His wife was likewise famous, a TV actress, and she sat next to him. I was stunned silent when I recognized the other two people in their party, both of whom had been sitting with their backs to the front door. The man’s long hair was instantly recognizable. Vance Gale had been imprinted on my memory from a very young age thanks to his leading the classic rock band, Sonic Rocket. Next to him was a lovely plus-size woman I instantly knew was the writer of A Journey Home, best-selling author, Sabrina Parsens.

  Griffin was on his feet immediately. “Jordi,” he greeted as he reached for a hug. It was a strong hug, which only confused me further. He greeted me like he was my long-lost kin, but could barely be bothered to contact me in person.

  I suspected this would be way different if my dress size was only one digit.

  I couldn’t worry about that at the moment. I reached for Sabrina’s hand and gushed on how much I loved the book. I had read it on the plane ride from California, and was so engrossed I finished it in the cab to Corey’s place.

  “Thank you so much,” Sabrina said with a wide, gracious smile. She took Vance’s hand in hers. “We moved to South Carolina to do the research and write the book.” They shared an intimate look. “It was an amazing year.”

  I noticed the wedding rings they wore, and Sabrina elaborated that they married on the plantation she used as a backdrop for the story.

  I tried not to gush over Vance. His guarded personal life now that he had retired from music was well known and highly
respected within the industry. But I couldn’t help myself from pointing out he might have been the better choice for the song, given he regularly landed on lists for top male vocalists of all time.

  He just shook his head with a gentle smile. “This had to be a female voice, particularly one who was young. And we’ve been big fans of yours ever since your time on Fierce. We would have recommended you for the song had Griffin not beaten us to the punch.”

  “I’m a big Jordi fan,” Griffin agreed. “It was always her voice in my head when I wrote it.”

  My eyes widened in surprise as I glanced at him, but he had already looked away. Nothing, absolutely nothing, in his behavior to this point could have prepared me for his declaration.

  “I can’t wait to hear what you do with the song,” Ava Preston-Newhouse agreed. She was even more beautiful in person than she was on TV, so much so I was a little intimidated to be seated at the same table with her. Next to her, or Emma or Sabrina, I felt my tenuous grasp on my own femininity slip; like I was no longer a woman of the same species, but some scientific experiment gone awry.

  “I’m excited for the opportunity,” I said. “The book is beautiful. I hope I can do it justice.”

  “If anyone can,” Sabrina said, “it would be you.”

  I waved away the compliment just as the food started to arrive. It was salvation the minute it touched my tongue. I didn’t want to scarf it down, though everyone at the table thoroughly enjoyed every morsel they put into their mouths. Every single time Griffin watched me put a bite into my mouth, I felt instantly judged. Because of this, I ate far less than I wanted to, and in fact much less than anyone else at the table.

  I supposed this was a good thing, considering I didn’t want to vomit on him later. With the thousands of butterflies in my stomach, this was a real possibility.

  Over the next two hours, we talked about everything. Or rather, they talked about everything, and I soaked all their insight and knowledge up like a sponge. I learned that Angus and Ava were bicoastal, but preferred New York over Los Angeles. “L.A. is a pit,” Angus growled in his fading Australian accent. “You can’t even catch a decent wave. But that’s where the work is, especially for Ava. You work in TV; you work in L.A. Thank God we got to shoot in North Carolina. It was humid and stormy and filled with bugs, but I’d take that any day over rush hour traffic on the 405.”

  I laughed. I liked L.A., but he definitely had a point.

  “L.A. isn’t so bad,” Griffin corrected his long-time friend. “Particularly L.A. women,” he added with a self-satisfied smirk.

  “We all can’t be lady-killers like you, mate,” Angus retorted, and Griffin made a face.

  “I hate that term. It’s far too violent. I bring my ladies pleasure, not pain,” he explained with a wink.

  I noticed he couldn’t meet my eyes when he made the comment. I assumed that was because I wasn’t on the short list of women he found worthy enough to please. I ended up pushing my plate away, unable to stomach another bite.

  “Pick-up artist, then,” Angus teased, knowing Griffin well enough to know how the barb would hit its mark.

  “Please,” Griffin snorted derisively. “Don’t lump me in with those losers. I actually respect the women I sleep with.”

  “And how many are you up to now?” Angus wanted to know. “Be careful, mate. You don’t want your penis to explode,” he joked, alluding to a popular urban legend in rock music.

  Everyone at the table laughed, but I could only muster a smile. All I could think about was how I was supposed to conquer this world renowned ladies’ man in a few hours, just to sell a few records. It seemed even more ludicrous than it had the day before.

  Like I was going to be some vixen who could wrap him around my pudgy little finger. What a joke.

  Emma suggested that we share a cab to the penthouse, and I could hardly disagree. Griffin’s sunny disposition clouded considerably the minute we broke apart from the larger group. Emma hailed the cab and then sat in between Griffin and me in the back seat.

  Unlike every other person in my life, Griffin wasn’t interesting in assuaging my ego and making sure I was going to be OK to perform. He was too busy checking his phone for any messages from other, obviously more important, contacts. Emma chatted with me, but mostly about the book, A Journey Home. She was a fan of Sabrina’s work, so she gobbled it up the minute it was released. She convinced Griffin to read it, who passed it on to Angus. Two years later, the film was almost in the can and Griffin had written all the music, including the score.

  “It’s all about who you know, I guess,” she said.

  “And Emma knows everyone,” Griffin finally said. I glanced his direction to spy the teasing smirk on his face. Emma preened a little before she mockingly slapped his arm. I wondered briefly, and totally inappropriately, if they had slept together. She was certainly attractive enough, and inarguably the cornerstone of his trusted inner circle. There was an innate possessiveness on her part, which seemed odd considering he was a man who was widely regarded as a free-wheeling bachelor.

  She chattered happily all the way up to the penthouse, but the elevator ride was still oppressive. Griffin barely looked my direction. He thumbed through his social media on his phone as he leaned casually against the plush interior of the elevator.

  To alleviate the awkwardness, I took out my own phone and checked my messages. There was only one missed message, and it was from my beloved. “Don’t be afraid to release your inner goddess, Jordi. You’re so much braver than you know. You are, and have always been, my hero. Now go finish that video so you can come home.”

  I was smiling as the doors slid open and we exited into the high-rise condo. He was right. This was a job. And the longer I behaved like a brat, the longer I’d be away from the place I wanted to be: Jace’s arms. So I didn’t argue or resist as I walked into the bathroom and Amelie put me back into the bodysuit and the negligee.

  Since most of his shots were successfully filmed the day before, most of the second evening of shooting concentrated on our scenes together. The minute the cameras rolled, Griffin was a different person. My breath caught when he looked at me. I could totally believe that he wanted me, which set off each and every alarm in my already noisy brain. The look in his eyes was hungry and raw. Though I was far more covered than he was in his torn jeans, I felt naked in front of him.

  The silk brushed against the generous folds of skin, reminding me of every bulge the bodysuit tried so hard to contain. When he touched me, I empathized with him. I knew he was fighting back every gag reflex as he pulled me toward his body. I was nothing like any girl he’d ever been with before and I knew it. I fit awkwardly in his toned arms, pressed up against his muscular body.

  But the look in his eyes made the embrace most uncomfortable of all. I hadn’t seen that look a lot in my life, mostly by design. It was one thing to find someone I could trust enough with my sexuality and convince them I was worth the effort.

  It was quite another when someone I barely knew looked at me like the last tasty morsel on a plate he was ready to lick clean. Instead of feeling empowered, I felt vulnerable and exposed. Fourteen years disappeared in a flash and I was that same little girl praying this would end sooner rather than later.

  Was Jace right? Was this all about Shane?

  I concentrated my focus on Griffin’s mouth. It was full and framed by his sexy, five-o-clock shadow. I memorized every detail that set him apart from Shane Pearcy. I reminded myself that I was in total control of this situation. It was completely safe. It didn’t feel safe, but I kept telling myself I had ultimate control over my feelings.

  This was a job. People in my industry did things like this all the time. Every time I sang a song, I became a character. That was the mask that I had so prized for so long. And this video was nothing more than an extension of that.

  It wasn’t me. It wasn’t a six-year-old girl. It was a character. Someone I made up. Someone who wasn’t real.

  It j
ust felt real the more his hands covered my body and his mouth hovered over my skin.

  Panic rose in my throat as Griffin pressed me back onto the bed. I closed my eyes and pretended it was Jace’s hand sliding up my thigh. That was the magic of being behind closed eyes, I discovered. He could be anyone, even the man I most loved.

  I let myself go into the fantasy. My fingers traipsed along his satiny flesh as I remembered discovering Jace’s body for the first time. A groan escaped my lips, and Griffin’s fingers dug into my flesh in response. My eyes snapped open. I assumed he was doing what I was doing, fantasizing about someone more appealing for a late-night canoodle on top of tangled sheets. My breath caught as I lost myself in those dark eyes; eyes I suspected saw every secret I had tried my whole life to hide.

  I watched his mouth descend towards mine. I kept waiting for Roxy to yell, “Cut!” but the film rolled as I tangled my fingers in his short, dark hair. He nudged my nose with the tip of his as he kissed my face, inching ever nearer to my slightly opened mouth. He pressed his hips toward me, and I could feel his hardened body reach for me.

  I swallowed back another wave of panic. “This are characters in a play,” I reminded myself. “This isn’t real.” It occurred to me that I had overlooked one very important element of the video. I was the vixen, the one who was stalking her sexy prey and conquering the object of her desire. I wasn’t there to be seduced, powerless to his mounting lust. So I summoned every iota of strength I could muster and pressed him back onto the bed. His eyes widened but he went with it, especially as my lips trailed along the strong line of his neck and along his muscular chest. His fingers wound into my hair as he pushed my warm mouth along his body.

  I kept it sexy but chaste, mostly because I couldn’t even pretend to simulate certain sexual acts, even with TV-PG rated sensuality. If it had been a real seduction, I might have straddled him. But I was too afraid my extra weight would remind Griffin of how fat and unattractive I was and totally kill the vibe.