Unstoppable (Fierce)

by Voight, Ginger

  I guess being a deceitful, manipulative bastard can really take it out of you.

  I was back at rehearsals the next morning, as were Shelby and Jace and all of DIB. Vanni watched my new performance of Shelby’s song, and pounced me the minute I stepped backstage. “That was stunning, Jordi,” he praised. “I’m surprised you didn’t pick that song for the show. It’s perfect for you.”

  I shrugged. “I can’t complain where I ended up,” I added with a slight grin.

  “With that, you might have won,” he said.

  I just laughed. “No. Jace would have won. He’s a superstar.”

  Vanni glanced over to the band, where Jace was warming up for his song. “He’s certainly giving me a run for my money.”

  “Does that bother you?” I asked before I could stop myself. It was a deeply personal question for my mentor and, essentially, my boss.

  He shook his head. “There’s enough to go around. Besides, fame is much too capricious to measure anyone’s worth. You have to find your self-worth in what you do, not what you get for what you do. Sometimes you’ll get money thrown at you by the barrelful. Sometimes you’ll get jack squat. You really can’t control that part of it.” He saw me struggle to wrap my mind around what he said, so he added, “You’re still on the hungry side of fame. You haven’t really hit your stride yet. You think selling a million albums or winning an award will validate what you can do, but like I told you when you were on the show – you’re a star. You can either sit around and wait for the world to agree, or you can go out on that stage, grab ‘em by the balls and give them no other choice.”

  I laughed. “You sound so certain.”

  He bestowed his heart-stopping smile. “You have to be. If you don’t believe it, how will you convince anyone else?” He paused as his eyes searched my face. “You’re in pain, still, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged. “The show must go on.”

  He nodded. “I hate that you had to give up Jace’s intro. That song was specifically selected for your voice.”

  “Terrell and I will work on different choreography. That should help. I won’t be out of commission for long,” I added with a big smile.

  “That’s my girl,” he said as he gave me a side hug and planted a kiss on my head.

  I would have left early, but we still had to do the encore number. That meant I had to sit through Shelby’s performance of my song, which pained me much more than I thought was possible. I couldn’t help but make comparisons – the way she looked in her leather outfit with her blonde hair teased like a wild lion around her face. She wore sexy, high heeled leather boots that she could prance around in more complicated dance moves than Terrell had created for me.

  It was almost as though she knew she couldn’t match my voice, so she played to her obvious strengths.

  I felt like a bitch even thinking these thoughts.

  It didn’t help I was sitting right next to Eddie, who had to mention – several times – how sexy she looked.

  As the drums thundered, signaling Jace’s appearance, my pulse raced. I had never experienced this number as an audience member. Goosebumps sprang up across my flesh as I mouthed every word, anticipation building to a fever pitch by the time he burst through those flames on his motorcycle.

  I could see why every groupie lost her heart to it, it was powerful and exciting and sexy as hell.

  It made losing the song, for any length of time, even more unbearable.

  I used the downtime after the performance to head backstage to the snack table. Felix Soto, Dreaming in Blue’s drummer, was picking apart the selection. He had a ready smile for me as I approached.

  Felix was probably one of my favorite people on tour. He always made everyone laugh as we were scurrying around backstage like chickens with our heads cut off. He’d make a joke or a funny face and we’d forget for a second we were all crazed and stressed out.

  He idled at mellow, which I found comforting.

  “Hey, gimpy,” he greeted playfully. “How’s the sacroiliac?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Can I just say, I can’t wait to get back to the hotel so I can drug up and pass out?”

  “What do they have you on?”

  “Hydrocodone 10s,” I answered.

  He made a face. “That shit is poison. Be real careful with it. It can kill you.”

  I found the warning interesting, given it was well known that Felix was a true California stoner from his dirty blonde hair to his tanned, bare feet. “Don’t worry. I only take it at night. I can’t function on it, it knocks me out.”

  “Do you smoke?” he asked and I shook my head. He grabbed my hand and led me back to his dressing room. He rifled through his duffle bag, before finally withdrawing a plastic bag of cookies. “Here. Try this.”

  I gave him a queer look which made him laugh. “You repeatedly put man-made toxin in your body but you’re scared of a little plant that’s never killed anyone?”

  “Just say no,” I told him.

  “Paranoia and propaganda. It’s perfectly legal in more than half a dozen states to use as medicine, which is a lot purer and less dangerous than that crap doctors can legally prescribe to you.”

  “It’s not legal in Texas,” I pointed out. “I could go to jail for ‘medicating.’”

  “Only if you’re caught,” he added with a smile.

  I took the bag and opened it. Immediately the smell made me turn up my nose. “It smells awful,” I said.

  “Tastes even worse,” he agreed. He opened up a bag of cookies he’d snatched from the snack table. “Here. Use this as a chaser.”

  I took a tentative bite and my stomach immediately recoiled. “If all cookies tasted like this, I’d be thin,” I muttered. He laughed and ate the other cookie in one bite.

  I decided to do likewise. One bite – all at once. I gagged as my taste buds threw a massive rebellion in my mouth. Felix was quick to provide a soda to wash it all down.

  “There. Now you can have pain relief that won’t render you comatose. I’ll refer you to a clinic when we get back to L.A. Tell them about the back pain and they’ll set you up.”

  “I still don’t know,” I said as I gulped more soda to wash away the taste.

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he said. “But promise you won’t take the pills anymore. Seriously. They kill people. Find another way to manage the pain.”

  I nodded, certain I wouldn’t be taking a pill on top of the cookie at least.

  It took about an hour for me to feel anything, which was about the time we were all onstage for the encore performance. At first, it was a feeling of wellness that spread all through my body. I didn’t feel as achy or as restricted in movement, which was a heavenly relief as we made it through the dance steps. About halfway through that, I felt like my head suddenly filled with helium and soared right off my shoulders. I sent Felix a thumbs up to let him know we had takeoff, and he made a goofy face that sent me into immediate giggles. I tried my best to keep it under control, but the more I convinced myself I shouldn’t laugh the more I wanted to. I sneaked offstage before I drew attention to myself, laughing until my stomach hurt. Tears were streaming from my face as I tried to catch my breath.

  I couldn’t recall, ever, when I had laughed so hard.

  It was amazing, like a release of every bad thing I had ever held onto.

  I felt liberated as I went back onstage. I didn’t worry about what anyone thought or said, I just gave myself over to the music in one of the truest, and purest, performances I’d ever given. I could immediately tell why Felix was a devotee.

  He handed me a bottle of water as we walked offstage, to battle the onset of cottonmouth that dried up my throat like the Sahara.

  I pounced that snack tray like a cheetah stalking a gazelle. I didn’t count one damn calorie; I just ate what I wanted and didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone would have to say about it. Life was perfect and I was untouchable in my happy little helium bubble. I laughed with the crew, ta
lked to people I normally avoided for fear of rejection.

  And ultimately I ended up face to face with Jace. “You’re in a good mood,” he clipped.

  I opened my mouth, but shut it just as quickly. I couldn’t tell Jace why I was in a good mood. I couldn’t tell anyone that I was high as a kite. I didn’t marry the likes of Eddie to avoid a scandal only to be arrested in Texas for eating a pot cookie. That would be ridiculous.

  Of course, the more I thought about the situation, the more absurd it became. I was giggling again before I knew it. “I’m sorry,” I said as I tried to get myself under control.

  “What’s going on, Jordi?” Jace wanted to know.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go,” I said again as I stumbled away from him before my dirty little secret was a secret no longer.

  Instead I made my way back to Felix’s dressing room, where he was feasting on a pizza that looked like it had been delivered by the gods.

  He shut the door behind me and we dug in.

  I hung out with Felix until Eddie started texting me to find out where I had gone. I regretfully left my new psychedelic soul mate, and he sent me on my way with another bag of baked goodies to hold me over through the weekend.

  Jace and Shelby had already left by the time I caught up with Eddie. “Where the hell were you?” he snapped, and I got the feeling that he had been shot down once again by Shelby.

  “Just, uh, you know. Hanging with the band.”

  “Aren’t you important?” he sneered. “Let’s go.”

  Being around Eddie certainly harshed my buzz, but he was willing to go his own way once we got behind closed doors at the hotel.

  I watched TV until I fell asleep.

  Regret caught up with me the following day, when I remembered how I had blown Jace off when he had tried to reach out to me. I checked my phone, but there were no messages. Why would he leave a message? He had me face to face and I wouldn’t even talk to him. And I really couldn’t even blame the cookie. I had been a snotty bitch to him ever since he told me what had happened with Shelby.

  I was so hell-bent on punishing him that I forgot one very important thing: I loved him. More than anything else, I missed him. And I wanted to be with him.

  I glanced at his last message. “We need to talk.”

  I gulped back my pride and typed, “When can you break away?”

  I held my breath until he answered. “Not today. We have a T&L thing at the Galleria.”

  I made a face. “OK,” I typed. I hesitated only for a moment before I finally wrote, “I miss you.”

  It seemed like an eternity before he responded. “I miss you, too.”

  It wasn’t much, and yet it was everything.

  When Eddie suggested we go to the mall to show our support, I knew I should have turned him down. But I needed to be near Jace.

  I wore sunglasses and a scarf to disguise myself, and encouraged Eddie to dress down so we wouldn’t draw attention to ourselves. The last thing I wanted was to be mobbed at the mall. He reluctantly agreed. I knew this particular excursion was doing double duty for Eddie; it gave us some press as a loving, devoted couple while he could still make a play for Shelby by showing her he was going to be there for her.

  He probably wouldn’t have complained if I stole Jace away so he could actually get more one-on-one time with her without any distraction.

  Unfortunately by the time we got there the event was already in full swing. Jace and Shelby modeled the clothes while they held a press conference in front of the store with a couple of representatives of the chain.

  They took questions about the new spring line and the clothes that they would be modeling on tour. It was all very mundane until one reporter called out, “Why didn’t your fellow finalist, Jordi Hemphill, join you for this clothing campaign?”

  Jace started to speak but one of T&L’s representatives stepped in. “Our brand does not accommodate all sizes,” she said. “Shelby was simply the better fit.”

  The reporter was relentless, which made me think he brought up the topic knowing full well what the answers would be. “Are you saying that Jordi was too fat for your clothes?”

  Jace’s jaw clenched and Shelby touched his arm with her hand. The representative just gave the reporter a benign smile. “There are plenty of clothiers for all kinds of customers. Our designers work specifically for a hip, young customer base, represented best by someone like Shelby.”

  “I notice that the men’s line of clothing go all the way up to 2X, while the women’s clothes cut off at XL. So, the only way you can be a hip young woman is if you’re smaller? No fat customers need apply?”

  “All customers are welcome,” she replied coolly, though clearly annoyed with the reporter’s persistence. “Any other questions?” she prompted, but now all the other reporters were clearly intrigued by T&L’s sizing preferences.

  “Look,” she said. “You don’t find adult clothes at a baby boutique, you’re not going to find plus-sized clothing in every store. Each of us market to a specific niche. It doesn’t mean that any one group is any more or less desirable. That’s just the market we’ve decided to market to. This is the beauty of living in a capitalist society. No matter who you are, you can find something tailored to you.”

  “Unless you’re Jordi Hemphill trying clothes on at T&L,” the reporter retorted, clearly trying to get her to rise to the bait.

  Instead Jace took off his microphone and stood. He was off the platform and gone before anyone could stop him.

  Eddie pounced all over the fact that Shelby was left behind like an abandoned kitten. It gave me the freedom to chase after Jace. Thanks to his security detail, he was well insulated as he stalked off toward the hired car to take him back to the arena for that night’s performance.

  He was gone before I could catch up with him, not that I didn’t nearly throw out my back again for trying.

  By the time I got back to T&L, I ended up walking right into the dispersing crowd of reporters, who all were suddenly very interested in my thoughts on the whole T&L sizing debacle.

  “How does it make you feel that T&L basically says you’re too fat for their clothes?”

  “Are you planning to pose for a plus-size boutique?”

  “Now that the show is over, are you finding it hard to fit into the entertainment industry because of people like T&L?”

  “Is your size the root of the problem with your marriage?”

  I shoved my way through the mob, which made my back wrench completely out of whack. I ended up calling out for Eddie to come rescue me. He was pissed when he finally pulled me free.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” he snapped. “Don’t you know she’s recovering from a back injury? Fuck off!”

  He put his arms around me, ever the PR opportunist. “Are you OK?”

  I shook my head. The pain was excruciating, but the humiliation was even worse. “Get me out of here.”

  He nodded and then used his body to shield me as we headed out to our own hired car. I winced in pain as I slid in the backseat. “Do you need to go to the doctor?” Eddie asked.

  I shook my head. We only had a few hours until show time. I wasn’t going to risk it just so I could get handed more pills. “Just get me to the arena,” I said.

  Every bump the car took from the mall to the venue sent white-hot pain from my hip to my left foot. Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet as he watched me, unsure whether or not to override my decision and turn us toward a hospital. I took deep breaths to control the pain, concentrating on the techniques that Maggie had taught me to get through my therapy. Nothing helped. I could barely walk once we pulled into the valet parking area for the venue.

  Eddie was affixed to my side all the way to my dressing room. “Do you need help getting dressed?” he asked, but I shook my head. “It’s not like you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before,” he added with a playful grin – one that reminded me of the innocent flirtations of our youth.

 
“I’m fine, really. I could use some water, though. Maybe a cup of hot tea?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

  I settled in the chair in front of the mirror to ride out the spasm. As I stared at my reflection, all those hateful comments from the press conference exploded in my brain. The word “fat” in particular went off like a shotgun blast. My eyes ran across my body, such a lump of bumpy, awkward folds of flesh that overfilled even the chair in which I sat. I could practically see my face widen the longer I stared at it, bloating to grotesque proportions. I looked down at the clothes, none of which came from T&L, or any other popular clothing chain.

  Yes, I thought to myself. I am too fat for T&L clothing. And it sucks.

  I thought about Shelby, dancing around in her tight leather, dreaming of her hero coming to her rescue. She could dance. She could pose for photographs that never had to be retouched, or altered to look more socially acceptable.

  Most importantly she didn’t have to worry about throwing her back out from one wrong move, just because her tiny frame wasn’t overburdened carrying a hundred extra pounds. The whole fucking production had to be rearranged to fit my limitations.

  Yes, I thought. I am having trouble fitting into the industry.

  Even the question about my marriage hit the mark. If I were that coveted size-6, then Eddie wouldn’t resent me so much and punish me for not being perfect. He’d woo me the same way he tried to woo Shelby.

  These thoughts haunted me as I gingerly changed into my performance wardrobe. I noticed every imperfection as I struggled to fit into clothes I now knew looked ridiculous in comparison to what Shelby wore.

  Eddie didn’t add to the pity party, but he really didn’t have to. I knew how he felt about me. The echoes of his previous insults resounded in my brain like church bells.

  By the time I made it to the stage, my self-esteem was down for the count. Given my physical limitations, I slowed down my set to include the ballad I sang for the Fierce finale, the song I had sung for Vanni and Andy’s wedding, and of course, Shelby’s song. It was a sleeper set that had no business in front of a rock show, exacerbated by my funk as I took the stage. I halfway into the second song when I realized I was losing my audience. I could see people leaving their seats in the front rows, going for refreshments before the “real” show started, and their lackluster energy only fueled my darkest feelings.