by Sadie Grubor
I pull out my cell phone and scroll until I find his name.
"Yeah," his familiar voice answers.
"Randall, it's Jack. I need a package." I turn, leaning back against the sink. The drugs are taking longer to feel the effect.
"Christ, already?" He laughs. "You're a machine, but don't worry, I got some killer shit in yesterday. I'll personally deliver and we can party at your place."
"Sounds like a plan." Closing my eyes, I savor the numbness of my mouth.
Liza
"Sid, call me back. Please," I beg, leaving my third voicemail.
"Still no luck?" Bethany slouches in her dressing table chair.
I shake my head.
"I'm not Sid, but if you need to talk, Liza," her body turns toward me, "I'm here."
Looking up from my phone, I force a smile.
"Thanks. I appreciate that," I say, and I mean it, but I haven't been able to get past my confrontation with Jackson.
Damn him for being an asshole. And damn me for allowing myself to care enough to be this hurt.
I swallow down the lump of tears in my throat. A knock on the door pulls our attention.
"Come in," Bethany calls.
Red's wide body slips inside the room.
"Can I talk to Liza for a minute?" Red asks, his question directed at Bethany.
Her eyes come to me, waiting for my okay. I nod and she turns back to Red.
"Sure." Standing, she shrugs and walks to the door.
Before she can exit, he wraps an arm around her waist. Pulling her to him, he kisses her quick and hard. When he releases her, she tries to look annoyed, but even I can see her fighting a smile.
The minute the door closes behind her, Red steps further into the room, taking a seat on a small, worn loveseat. He bounces and presses his hand to the cushion.
"This thing is shit." He bounces once more. "I need to replace this."
His eyes come to mine. I give my second forced smile since I left stage rehearsal.
"That's not what I want to talk to you about." He clears his throat. "You aren't yourself tonight, Liza. Everything okay?"
Red's never given off the vibe of a jerk, but the tenderness in his question surprises me. He's usually loud, boisterous, and funny. In this moment, I see why Bethany likes him so much.
"Just a rough day." I shrug and sigh.
"I'm not one of the girls," he motions around the dressing room, "but you can come to me with shit."
The total guy attempt to be there makes me giggle.
"I'm serious." His brow wrinkles.
"I'm sorry." My giggle grows. "I don't mean to laugh."
I take a deep breath, getting myself under control.
"I really appreciate you checking on me. And I really appreciate you making me smile for real tonight, even if it was unintentional."
He grins, satisfied with himself.
"I need to talk to you about something else." His face grows more serious.
Worry assaults me for no real good reason.
"Don't look so panicked." He puts his hands up. "I think this is a good thing. I want to make you a featured performer."
I raise one brow, confused.
"I'm not sure I understand," I say, voicing said confusion.
"Liza, you're an amazing performer. Not just because of your voice," he rushes to clarify. "When you step onto the stage, you become another person. You know how to play off the crowd. Fuck, you make them play off you."
The compliments feel a bit uncomfortable, but a pleasant warmness fills my belly.
"Instead of you becoming what they want, you make them want what you give them. That's fucking talent." He rubs the back of his neck. "I want to do a photo shoot, and the leads—like Bethany and you—will have solo shots, but…" he pauses, getting serious, "basically, you are getting top billing. You're going to be the feature everyone comes to see."
I open my mouth to protest.
"I know who my best players are, Liza." Red stops me before I can get a word out. "Bethany and Jennifer will still do their solos and we may even bring in some new singers. But I've thought long and hard about this, I've watched the crowd and all of you. You're going to be the spotlight."
This time, I don't know what to say at all.
"Which means your photoshoot is going to be a bit more intense. Once I find the right photographer—”
"My cousin," I blurt.
"What?" It's Red's turn to be confused.
"My cousin, Sid, is a great photographer. I can get her portfolio or the online site she keeps."
"Her?"
"Yeah, it's short for Sidra. She hates it and goes by Sid," I explain. "She went to college for graphic design and online marketing, but she's studied photography since she was in high school."
Opening the browser app on my phone, I scroll through my favorites, knowing I have her Deviant Art account favorited. I adore the photos she posts there.
"Well, yeah, I mean, I really want to take these pictures to an edgy, sexy place. I was thinking of contacting some of the photographers I've worked with for Corrosive Velocity, but if you have her send some pictures, I guess I can take a look at—”
Shoving my phone in his face silences him.
Red's eyes widen and his chin drops a bit. He takes my phone.
"Just swipe left to see more." I sit back in my chair.
His finger moves across my screen a few times before he looks up from the series of pictures titled TitsAnAss Collection.
The photos range from woman wearing latex, pushing the material to its limits, to some shots of us from the club. You wouldn't know it's us since Sid focuses on the curve of a lace covered hip or the bone lining of the corset. Her photos are what I like to call sneaky sexy.
"Do you think she'd be willing to do this?" His eyes drop back to the phone, scrolling.
"I can ask," I answer, and shrug. "But I'm pretty sure she'd love to do it."
Red continues swiping the screen. Since he's taken the time to tell me his plans for me in the club, I feel the need to tell him about my involvement with Hidden Talent.
"There's something I need to tell you, too."
Red's eyes lift from the phone.
"Yeah?" he says, his business-like tone in place.
"I'm currently participating in Hidden Talent." Nervousness swirls in my stomach.
His eyes widen. "Does Jackson know?"
I blink, not expecting that to be the first question. I clear my throat.
"He does…now."
He nods.
"That what tonight's about?" Both brows lift over his brown eyes.
I give a noncommittal nod. "And some other things."
"I'm not thrilled at the idea of you winning that shit and leaving this place." He inhales deep, holds it for a moment, and then exhales. "But it could be decent publicity for the club."
"So, you're okay with it?"
Red stands, handing my phone back to me.
"Like I said, I don't want to lose you to some reality show shit, but it's cool. I'm surprised you signed up for it, though."
"I didn't. My son and brother did."
"Ahh…" He nods his head. "Well, just try not to win." He grins largely. "I've got plans for you in this place."
The statement warms me, while also making me wish I'd never agreed to Hidden Talent. Where I belong has never been clearer.
"I'll do my best to suck." I smile.
"No, don't suck. I want people to like you enough to follow you here." He smirks before going to the door.
"I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to be good while trying not to win."
"You better figure it out,” he responds, pulling open the door.
Bethany stands right on the other side.
"Really?" he deadpans.
Bethany faux-pouts. "I wanted to make sure she wasn't upset about being the feature."
I blink in surprise, not expecting her to already know.
"She's okay." He pats Bet
hany on the head before turning back to me. "Get me your cousin's information. I want to talk to her."
I nod my silent okay while focusing on Bethany giving me two thumbs up behind his back. He turns, catching her. Shaking his head, he walks by her.
"What am I going to do with you?" he asks, not expecting a response.
Bethany steps into the dressing room, closing the door behind her.
"He loves me." She smirks, wiggling her brows.
Still no answer or response from Sid, I have too much time to replay every Jackson moment in my life during the bus ride home. Each moment is painfully beautiful, agonizingly raw, or both. My head knows I've done the right thing by walking away. He has too much going on and I refuse to be his whipping boy, but deep down, I feel the ache of separation. Somehow, my heart got caught up in this mess.
I catch the inside of my bottom lip between my teeth, fighting the wobble of my chin. I close my eyes against the pressure of unshed tears, only opening them when the bus comes to a stop. On autopilot, I step down from the bus and walk the small distance to my apartment. Every nerve ending feels raw, exposed.
The soft glow of light from under my apartment door becomes the distraction I need.
They should be in bed.
I allow the annoyance of the boys being up so late to swallow the emotions I don't want to admit I feel.
Opening the door, I search for Kel, Lucas, or Sean, ready to lecture them. Instead, a wave of relief washes over me.
"I'm sorry," Sid blurts. "I meant to surprise you, but my flight had an unexpected layover because of engine problems. My phone was off for a while because of the flights and then I had to rearrange my second flight to get here."
In hurried movements and explanation, she slips off a barstool and walks toward me.
"I saw your calls but didn't want to ruin my surprise. I should've fucking answered."
Her arms wrap around my shoulders and the embrace is my undoing. My bottled up emotions pour from my eyes in salty, wet trails over my face. They erupt from my throat in a combination of sobs and hiccups.
"It's okay. Shh…" Sid holds me tighter.
"He told me to fuck all the judges," I sob out before covering my mouth to quiet the ridiculous reaction.
Sid releases me and steps back.
"You go change. I'll pour the wine. Then we’ll eat crappy food, drink cheap wine, and plot our revenge against the oversized, walking-coloring-book asshole."
With the mischievous gleam in her eye, I know she's already done the plotting. And her insult makes me laugh.
"I love you." It's my turn to hug her.
"Of course you do," she responds. "What isn't to love?"
"Now, go change." She steps away, swatting my ass.
"Ow!" I rub the stinging cheek.
"You liked it," she says without looking back.
Almost two bottles of wine, a can of spray cheese, and a box of crackers later, Sid is laying next to me on the pullout bed.
"What if—”
"Sid," I laugh her name, "I don't think I can take any more of your plotting."
I shove a cracker in my mouth.
"No, wait," she slurs, "this is the best. Just—” she hiccups, "just listen."
I nod, drinking the last drop of wine from my glass.
"Okay…what if I hack his twitter feed? You know I can do it." Sid licks her lips, always excited about hacking something.
"You already plotted that about twenty ideas ago," I remind her. "Right after your plan for me to revenge fuck his brother. Like that would even be possible."
The warm tingly sensation from the wine makes snuggling into the pullout bed actually feel good.
"Yes," she shouts, "but this time, we are going to change all his profile pictures to penises and kittens."
I bury my face in a pillow, smothering the laughter bubbling out of me. With a deep breath, I look up from the pillow.
"Penises and kittens?"
She nods, excitement in her eyes.
"Why kittens?"
Sid's face twists into an are-you-really-asking-me-that look.
"Um, wouldn't you question a dude posting penises and fluffy kittens?"
I open my mouth, but close it. She has a point.
"I'll get my laptop."
She starts to crawl over me.
"No."
I grab her leg, keeping her in the bed.
"Sid, stop. You aren't really doing it." I try to sound serious, but can't help laughing.
"Oh, yes I am."
She gets free, slipping from the bed onto the floor.
"And just for the fucking hell of it, I'm going to post gay porn all through his feed. You know I have a membership to plenty of porn."
I cover my mouth to hold in the burst of laughter threatening to wake up the boys.
Rolling to my side, I look down at a half-passed-out Sid.
"Sid?"
I reach down and push on her shoulder. No response.
"Sid?" I try again.
"Yeah," she quietly slurs.
"Get back in bed." My words are followed by a yawn.
"Okay," she sighs.
Rolling to face the bed, she raises an arm and grabs the mattress with her hand, but that's as far as she gets. Her arm falls to the floor.
"It's too far away," she mumbles.
I reach behind me, grab her blanket, and throw it down to her.
"Thanks." She snuggles into the blanket.
My lids grow heavy and my body goes lax.
Every muscle tenses and my eyes pop open at the loud pounding on my door.
"What the hell?" Sid growls, flipping onto her back.
"Liza!" More pounding follows his call.
"Is that—?" She props up onto her elbows.
"LIZA, please!"
With his volume increasing, I jump out of bed and trip over Sid.
"Ow, fuck," she curses, my foot hitting her side.
"Sorry." I look down to make sure she's okay. "You alright?"
"Yeah," she responds in a breath. "Hurry and shut loud mouth up before he wakes the building."
As if on cue, he shouts louder and bangs harder.
Going as fast as my tipsy body will allow, I reach the door, unlock it, and pull it open.
"Liza," he coos my name, his trademark half-grin in place.
He steps into my apartment and I take a step back.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice quiet, yet harsh.
His arms stretch toward me and catch me around my back, pulling me to him.
"I'm so sorry," he says, his words slurred.
"You need to leave." My words are stronger than I feel inside.
My body wants to melt into him; the effort of staying statue-like is exhausting.
"I need you to forgive me, Liza." He releases his hold on me, his large hands palming each side of my face. "I need you."
"Yeah, to forgive you."
I wrap my hands around his wrists, trying to pull out of his hands, but he won't allow it. Dropping my arms, I give up on a sigh.
"Okay, fine, I forgive you," I say, but the words are insincere and he can tell.
"No, you don't." His body sways and I reach out to help steady him.
A small smile forms on his face. "I want you, Liza."
His thumb rubs awkwardly against my cheek. In slow motion, his lips come closer. Letting go of his sides, I cover his mouth with my hands. The heat of his skin is concerning. He's burning up.
"Jackson, what did you take tonight?"
With my hands still over his mouth, I feel his lips move, but can't understand what he’s saying. I pull them away.
"What?"
"I need you. I want you. Forgive me."
His forehead rests against mine, the heat and slickness of his skin uncomfortable.
"Well, he's super high, isn't he?"
Sid's question distracts Jackson enough for me to get free of him. As soon as I have space between us, he turns his attention ba
ck to me. A frown mars his face.
"How much did you do tonight?" I cross my arms over my chest.
"Liza, fuck, can't you just—”
"How much, Jackson?"
"Randall brought me something new. It's the best I've felt all day." The sloppy grin on his face makes my stomach turn.
"Great."
"I feel incredible," he slurs.
Inhaling deep, I step forward and take his cell phone from his pocket.
His eyes snap open and land on me. The unfocused look saddens me.
Scrolling through his phone, I find Sam.
"What are you doing?" He grins.
"Calling your ride," I inform, waiting, hoping Sam answers.
"You know, I'm going to post penises, kittens, and gay porn all over your twitter feed."
My eyes snap to Sid. Standing only a few feet from Jackson, she has his full attention.
"What?" His face wrinkles in confusion.
"You heard me ash-hole," she taunts, her words slurred, but not nearly as bad as Jackson.
"Who the fuck are you?" he growls, narrowing his eyes on her.
"Your worst nightmare, Jolly-Cokehead-Giant." She crosses her arms over her chest, not backing down when he glares.
"Yes, sir?" Sam's deep voice finally breaks the ringing.
"Um, Sam, this is Liza. I'm not sure if you remember—”
"Yes, miss, I remember you. Did he pass out in your apartment?"
"You brought him here?" I ask, hopeful.
"Yes, miss. He was adamant and I'd rather not risk another taxi ride incident."
"He's not passed out, but he needs to go."
"And he's not willing?" Sam sighs.
"I'll get him downstairs, but be ready."
"Of course."
"Oh, and, Sam?"
"Yes?"
"I'm not sure what he used tonight, but he's on fire. Someone needs to keep an eye on him."
"I'll call Julia. She's his personal assistant and should be able to make arrangements."
"Okay. We'll be down in a couple minutes."
"I'll be here."
Ending the call, I look up to see Jackson and Sid staring each other down.
"As a matter of fact, I'll also hack all your personal accounts, shut down all your credit cards, and post your cell number to the masses," Sid adds to the end of their heated discussion.
"Jackson?"
His head slowly turns toward me, causing his body to waver.
