by Tracey Ward
She kisses the crease in my brow, her fingertips raining slowly down the sides of my face. “Then fuck me slow.”
I can’t speak after that, but I do what she says. I fuck her slow. So slow I think I’ll lose my mind, but when her moans turn to whimpers and her body starts to burst around me, it’s all worth it. I keep my pace, my hands and mouth on her tits, sending her away from me and pulling her back in, making her come twice before I even start to think about myself. When I speed up, my finger finding its way to her clit, she’s still shivering underneath me.
“I can’t,” she whimpers, her fingers digging into my back. She shakes her head, panting desperately. “I can’t again. I can’t.”
“Yeah, you can.” I press my forehead to hers, driving deeper inside her. “You can do it, baby.”
“Fuck, Jace,” she pleads. Her voice is rising. It’s coming.
“You’re beautiful when you come. You’re so alive. I could watch you do it all day.”
“I can’t.”
I push down hard on her clit, turning tiny circles over it. “We’ll do it together.”
She bucks underneath me, pushing me farther inside her. Her head is thrown back, her mouth hanging open as she gasps for air. I kiss her neck, feel her pulse push against my lips, and then she’s clenching down on me. Her walls close in tighter than before and it sends me over the edge. I collapse on top of her, my hips jerking wildly.
She cries out in my ear, one long, sweet note that swirls and curls around the low growl in my throat, mingling into a song of perfect harmony. The kind of precision that reverberates in your bones and brings tears to your eyes.
I haven’t known this kind of right in years. This resounding ‘yes’ that’s beating in my heart, pumping in my blood. She’s looking up at me with tear soaked eyes and flushed cheeks, her heart and body wide open. It’s humbling and exhilarating. It sets off something primal in me that makes words meaningless. I could write a thousand songs and I’d never be able to describe the way I feel right now. There are no words for this. There are no words for her.
I fall asleep there next to her less than a minute later. We don’t get dressed, we don’t clean up. I wrap her in the shelter of my body and I wait until I hear her drift off before I follow her.
No booze.
No pills.
Just Greer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Greer
There’s cotton candy out there in the crowd. I’m itching for a chance to get my hands on some. I’ve never had it before, but it smells delicious. It’s too crowded to try right now. The show is starting soon and if anyone sees me in skin tight vinyl pants and a white tank top, my hair blown out and my eyes painted dark as the back of the moon, they’ll know I’m with the show. I’ll be mobbed just for knowing Jace Ryker. It’s a weird kind of celebrity, one I wasn’t ready for. One that will disappear when this night is over.
I’m trying to wrap my head around that. This is it; the end of the line with Jace. And I slept with him last night. I made love to him, and if I’m not very, very wrong, he made love to me. Slowly. Painfully. Nothing has ever felt better or more perfect in my life. I’ve never felt more vulnerable. I’ve never felt safer. I wanted to tell him everything when it was over. Before I fell asleep, the words were on my lips. Words about my mom and my stepdad. About running away and living on the streets. I wanted to tell him about the poster and the first time I cried his name. I wanted to be honest with him, but I wasn’t. I’m not, and that bothers me today more than it did yesterday. Something changed last night, but I can’t say exactly what. He and I need to talk. I’m just not read yet. I’m not ready to say goodbye.
I shake my hands out, the nerves tingling in my fingertips. I’m buzzing from head to toe the way I get before I go on stage. This feels different, though. Danny warned us that he might change some things up and we have to be ready to adapt. You don’t get that on Broadway. There’s a script and you follow it to the letter. The letters may change minutes before the show, but not once you’re out there. Improvisation is the last resort of a system completely broken down. Out here, it sounds like it’s the status quo.
“Five minutes,” Danny warns us.
We nod as he disappears back into the bus. It picked us up at the hotel an hour ago. Jace rode with us, laughing and charming the whole way. He was on, a polished star to the bone, but I couldn’t look at him without seeing his face above me in bed last night. His skin red with exertion and restraint, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. His mouth was open, his breathing steady and slow. It matched his pace as he thrust in and out of me until I caught fire, burning out around him not once, not twice, but three times. It was excruciating the way he fucked me. The way he looked at me.
I loved every second of it.
“You’re blushing.”
I look up at Cam, startled out of my memories. “No, I’m not.”
“Yeah. You are.”
“Whatever.”
“Whatcha thinking about?” he teases.
“Shut up.”
“Was it good?”
I feel myself blush harder. “Which time?”
“You little minx,” he chuckles.
I glance around nervously. No one is listening. The other dancers are in their own space, in their own heads, preparing for the show the way they’re used to; stretching, pacing, rocking out to music blasting in their headphones. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It was that bad, huh?”
“No.” I run my hand along my neck, stretching my head back. Trying to live in my skin that’s crawling with emotions too big for my body to handle. “It was that good.”
Cam hesitates, looking down at me seriously. The lights from the stage are out, our area in the wings dark and forgotten. I can’t tell what he’s thinking but I feel it when the air around him changes. “You’re in love with him.”
I shake my hands again. “Don’t,” I warn.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make me answer that. I don’t want to think about that. Not right now.”
“Because you don’t know what’s coming in the morning.”
“Yeah.”
“I have an idea of what it might be.”
My brow pinches in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Cam steps in closer, lowering his voice. “I got a call from Anna last night. She heard a rumor that they’ve offered Jace the lead in Rendezvous.”
My mouth pops open, stunned. “What? Seriously?”
“That’s what she heard.”
“But the show is closing down.”
“It could get extended with a name like Jace Ryker headlining it.”
“How legit is the rumor?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Legit enough that she felt like I should know because, if it’s true, I’m out.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah.”
I shake my head, refusing to believe it. “Cam, it’s not true. They wouldn’t do that to you. You’re one of the only things keeping the show going right now.”
“I’m not a name. Jace is,” he insists, his voice carefully controlled. His face composed. “He could save us.”
“But—”
“You’d probably get the female lead.”
My heart screeches to a painful halt. My mouth hangs open, worthless words trapped in my throat.
“They’re not gonna waste a star like Jace on Anna,” Cam continues evenly. “You’re more talented than she is. Everyone knows it. They knew it back when Eve left, but you were too scared to take the spot. You’re a better fit for working with Jace, especially if you guys are dating. People will eat that shit up. They’ll line up around the block to buy tickets to see it.”
I lick my lips anxiously. “I’m not better than Anna.”
“This isn’t about your past, Greer. It’s about talent, and you’ve always had more than her. You just won’t admit it because you think all the other shit is more important.”
“She’s been professionally trained. She went to school to learn to dance. Do you remember where I learned?”
His eyes soften. “I remember. It definitely wasn’t Ivy League.”
“If people knew, they’d never take me seriously. I’d lose everything.”
“I wish you would take you seriously. Someone had to teach Anna to do what she does, and you still do it better than her. You have raw, natural talent. I see it. John sees it. Jace definitely saw it or you wouldn’t be here.”
I hesitate, my stomach rolling violently. “So, he hasn’t taken it yet? The offer for Rendezvous.”
“Not yet. Anna said she heard he’s thinking about it.” He glances behind me to the bus. “He hasn’t said anything to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully.
“What do you think that means?”
“If it’s even true, I think it means what Anna said; he’s thinking about it.”
I shake my head again, trying to shuffle the pieces into place. To get this to make sense. “I don’t know how to feel about this. How do you feel? Are you pissed?”
Cam shrugs. “Kind of, but not really. I don’t know. I want the show to keep going, but I want to be the guy at the head of it. But it won’t keep going with me, so I have to step aside. I can’t have it both ways.”
“He’ll probably say no.”
“Then the show goes under. It really is over.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, closing my eyes. I run my hands over them roughly, feeling tired all of the sudden. “Shit, fuck, dammit.”
“Yep.”
“You guys okay over there?” Naomi calls curiously.
I lower my hands, smiling at her brightly. “We’re great. Just a little nervous.”
She looks at me doubtfully, her sharp eyes reading right through my fake smile.
The door to the bus slides open with a gentle hydraulic whoosh. Grant steps out. Sarah is close behind him. Then some guy I don’t know. He looks like a mountain in black, and it suddenly dawns on me that this is the first time I’ve seen Jace with security. He must only bring them around during his shows when the fans are at their craziest.
When Jace comes down the steps of the bus in jeans and an old Atari T-shirt, his face drawn and serious, I feel weak. Weak in my knees and my mind. I imagine being on stage with him back in New York leading Rendezvous together, my name on the marquee outside, my body in his hands under the lights. Singing with him. Dancing with him. Kissing him on and off the stage. It’s a beautiful dream. It’s so vivid it makes my stomach ache with want.
But where’s Cam? My friend, my savior. Is he in the ensemble? Or has he been banished back stage, an understudy for the rest of the run? Can he live with that or will he leave? The thought breaks my heart.
Cam is right; we can’t have it both ways.
Danny rushes ahead of Jace just as the lights die out all around the fairgrounds. The crowd goes wild in anticipation. They know what’s coming. Music swells in the speakers. Softly, just barely audible above the cheer of the audience. It’s his first song from his first album, kicking off his concert in the perfect throwback.
“Are you ready?” Danny asks urgently.
We nod, our lips sealed. Our worries stowed.
It’s time to work. There’ll be plenty of time to stress later.
A shadow of a man takes the stage. Jace and his crew come to stand next to us in the wings, waiting for our cues. He has his game face on, a level of seriousness I’ve never seen before. He looks weirdly unfamiliar. He also doesn’t look at me.
“Hello, Emerson!” the man on stage shouts into a microphone.
The crowd cheers eagerly.
“How are you guys tonight?!”
They scream loudly in reply.
“Are you ready for Jace Ryker?!”
Ear piercing screams.
Jace takes my hand, stopping my heart. We’re in the dark, huddled together as a group. No one can see it, but I can feel it everywhere. And I can feel everything in it. He’s hesitant. He doesn’t want to do this. He’s asking me for strength to get through it.
It’s a sobering realization.
I keep my eyes focused straight ahead, but I thread my fingers with his. I press my palm firmly into his and I squeeze gently. I tell him I’m with him. That I’ll be right behind him. I promise him we can do this. Together.
“Well, let’s get him out here!” the MC shouts. He turns to the wings. “Jace, where you at, man?! They’re calling your name!”
“Jace! Jace! Jace!” they chant. They stomp their feet. They clap their hands. They light up the night with sound and excitement.
He releases me, running out onto the stage without a single look. I don’t take offense to it. He’s in the zone, heading to work. He doesn’t belong to me now. He belongs to them. To the crowd and the music. To the world that demands him, body and soul.
When the spotlight catches him, the crowd goes insane. They scream, pushing toward the stage like waves to the shore. I’ve never seen anything like it. It steals my breath. It freaks me out. I wonder how Jace deals with it night after night. How are his nerves not shot to shit? He’s operating on an entirely different level than I am, and I wonder if I lived in the spotlight like this for as long as he has, would I be sick of it too?
I’ll never know, but I try to understand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jace
“Thank you, Emerson!”
They scream in a mad reply, incoherent and insane. I wave to them with both arms over my head as I walk off stage. The spotlight tracks with me. I feel the familiar burn on my skin, in my eyes, my body soaked in sweat and my brain throbbing inside my skull. I’ll need a drink after this. Something stiff. I’d take a joint if I could get away with it. I’ll take Greer if I can get my hands on her.
She’s with the rest of the crew running off stage behind me. I did my best to ignore her while I was performing, but she’s hard to miss. Her body glistened with sweat under the lights, that heavy makeup making her look severe, her eyes glowing like jade. And the way her body moves… it makes me hurt. She’s too good, too talented to be standing behind me or blending with the ensemble. She should be front and center, always.
And I have the power to make that happen.
As I step into the dark outside the spotlight, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ll never be farther from another show than I am right now. It’s a good feeling. One I wish I could hold onto. Rome looms like the gallows in my future. I don’t know how many more of these I can do. I don’t know how much more of my life I can stand.
You’re destroying yourself, Ryker. You as a person and yourself as an icon. You’re tearing everything down.
I denied it at the time, but now when I think about what Grant said, I start to wonder if he wasn’t right about me. I’ve told myself that I’m indifferent. That I’m sitting back and watching my life burn, but is that true? Am I really indifferent? Or am I razing my life to the ground, one matchstick at a time?
I know myself enough to know the answer. I just didn’t realize how passively destructive I’ve really been.
I didn’t know how badly I wanted to watch the world burn until I found something to save.
“They want an encore,” Greer laughs, her smile brighter than the spotlight.
I grin down at her. “They already got three.”
“What’s one more?”
“Too much. I’m done for tonight.”
She pouts theatrically. She’s feeling playful. Fast. High on life and the lights. The crowd and music. She loves this shit, more than I ever did, even on a good day. This is what she’s made for, and the more I’m in it, the more I know it’s not for me. It’s time for a change. But how big of one? A new direction musically? A change of scenery? A simple change of pace, shutting down the tour and focusing on… what, exactly? An album? A collaboration? A college course? I could take up woodworking. Or photography. I could be
an accountant, I’m good with numbers. But I’m not good with nine-to-five. Or suits. And seriously, am I really that good with numbers? What am I basing that on? The fact that I can count a beat?
I have a lot of questions and basically zero answers. It’s a fucked up way to be.
Greer bounces on her tiptoes. “I’m not going to be able to sleep.”
“You better. We have an early flight out,” Naomi reminds her.
Greer collapses down onto her soles. “Ugh, I forgot.”
“What time?” I ask.
“Seven something. We’ll have to get up in about…” she checks her watch. Only she’s not wearing one. She throws her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. A few hours.”
“We can sleep on the plane,” Cam promises her. “We’ll get you some motion sickness shit. Knock you out for the duration.”
Fuck, I forgot about that. She’ll have to suffer through another flight to get home, puking all the way. Upheaving her morning eggs somewhere over Denver.
“What time are you flying out?” Greer asks casually. She’s a good actress. I can barely tell how much she cares. How many questions of her own she has swirling around in her head.
I wish I had a single answer for her.
But what I do have is a plane. A plane with empty seats.
“Whenever you guys are packed and ready to go.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the jet seats eight. Sarah has already gone back to L.A. and Danny is going back tomorrow afternoon, so you all are flying home with me.” I grin crookedly at them, my signature smile. “I’m taking you home in style.”
“Are you serious?” Tim asks eagerly.
“Why not? I’ve got the room. We’re heading the same direction. It’s for the environment, really.”
“Except the flights we were scheduled to fly on will still run and no private jet has ever been ‘good for the environment’,” Naomi points out blandly.
“Alright, Leonardo DiCaprio, you can fly commercial if you want.”
“Fuck that. I never said I didn’t want to go.”
