Save a Prayer

by Karen Booth

  "I was just being honest. I love her and I don't want to lose her. That's all there is to it."

  "My guess is that she was hoping for something better when you actually did the job of proposing. I doubt she wanted you to just stumble into it like it was a happy accident."

  I let that tumble around in my head for a minute. Happy accident. Bollocks. Yet another thing I'd completely mucked up. "Unfortunately, the whole thing seems pretty damn pointless. She's convinced that my career and a long-term relationship are incompatible concepts."

  "She's not entirely wrong. It's tough to do," Chris said. "Especially for us right now. If we slow down, we could lose everything. We have to keep the momentum going."

  "Nobody knows that better than me." We were on a hamster wheel, the four of us, no doubt about that. And we'd climbed onto it and started running willingly. Hell, we'd wanted to be stuck here, going non-stop, no end in sight. When would it be enough? Would it ever be enough? There was a very good chance that this could be the pinnacle of our careers. The thing was, none of us wanted to believe that. We all wanted to think that there was more out there for us. But what about that mentality of more, more, more? Was it healthy? Or did it lead down a dark and lonely path? "I don't understand, Chris. Are you trying to talk me out of proposing to her properly or into it?"

  Chris leaned forward and set his hand on my knee. "Look. You know I love you like a brother. I just want to see you happy. There's no question that she makes you happy. And any guy would be lucky to have her. But I understand you don't want to risk hearing an unpleasant answer to the question. No guy wants that."

  I not only could imagine Angie saying “no”, I could imagine how awful it would feel to hear it. "Yeah. I know." A one-night stand with her ex-boyfriend—was that what I'd been reduced to?

  "So? What are you going to do?" Chris asked as if it were the most inconsequential question imaginable.

  "No idea. If I make another impassioned plea to get her back, I'm not sure it's going to do any good. But what else is there other than my feelings for her? The reality is that being my girlfriend, or my wife for that matter, comes with compromise. Maybe if I were a blooming banker or a businessman, it would be different, but I can't imagine that's what she wants, either."

  "Well, you basically have ten minutes to formulate a plan," Reggie quipped, pulling out the dreaded clipboard.

  "Why's that?"

  "That's how long it'll take us to get to the soundstage so we can start shooting this video."

  It wasn’t long before we ran into traffic, putting Reggie off with his time estimate. We were a good half hour behind when we arrived at the warehouse where we were filming the video for Reckless and Lovely, which the record label had decided would be the next single. They hoped to release it to radio and MTV in a month, right around the time we'd be heading to Japan and Australia. More time on the hamster wheel, not that I'd risk complaining about it.

  Reggie, Chris, and I walked into the cavernous space unbothered by fans, which was quite a nice change of pace. For once, nothing about our activities had been leaked. It was such a relief, especially after that morning. If I had any chance of working things out with Angie, the thing she perceived as our biggest obstacle—the fans—would make it much more difficult. I scanned the room, wanting desperately to spot Angie so we could talk before work took precedent. She was conspicuous in her absence.

  Reggie left Chris and I when he was pulled into a conversation about the production. We looked on as several people were working around a large stage set up at the far end of the warehouse. It had a glittery black and silver backdrop and an unbelievable amount of lighting aimed at it. It was cold and damp in this space, but I didn’t look forward to baking under those lights.

  The plan was to shoot a bit of performance footage here, but not much, as the director, Liam Morton, had filmed us live in Los Angeles during the tour. Liam wanted to focus on what he had described as a "narrative on love in modern times", whatever that meant. This was our first time working with him and we were prepared to go along with whatever he wanted. Between his name and ours, MTV would practically have the video on an endless loop. They'd told us as much.

  "Where've you guys been?" Nigel asked, walking over from the catering table. "We got here nearly an hour ago. I've already got my makeup done."

  "So I see. We were stuck in traffic. Where's Angie?" I again looked around the room in hopes of spotting her. No luck.

  "Ah, yeah, about that. Liam's production company had hired two models to be in the video, but I guess they got stuck in San Francisco. Fog grounded their plane or something."

  "What does that have to do with Angie?"

  "I was getting to that. Liam took a real fancy to Ang as soon as he met her. She and Gigi have been asked to stand in for the video. They're in make-up right now."

  My brain sputtered. Standing in for some model in a music video was not something I’d ever imagined Angie doing. Ever. She was a photographer because she liked being behind the lens. She found it comfortable there. And she wasn’t the sort of girl to do something impetuous. Or unplanned. Was Angie venturing outside her comfort zone? And where did I stand in all of this? In her comfort zone, or out of it?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Angie

  This was not at all what I was supposed to be doing. I’d made such a big deal with Graham about my career and now I was pissing that away, all because the events of that morning had left me feeling ragged and a bit reckless. Fuck my mess of a life. Fuck planning. I had to do something fun. For me.

  "I can't believe this is happening," Gigi giggled. She'd tagged along to New York at Terence's invitation and from the sound of it, she might be joining him in England during the band's month off. I liked having a girl to hang out with, even though Nigel and I had been subjected to the most awkward limo ride in history when Terence and Gigi gave each other a thorough dental exam with their tongues and pawed each other for an hour en route to Manhattan.

  I couldn't help but be jealous. Gigi and Terence were at that stage where everything was new and nobody had managed to piss anyone off yet. I loved that part. Graham and I had done a bang-up job with that part the first time around.

  Hell, if Graham and I didn't have a past, I'd probably be feeling differently about the woman who'd come calling at the hotel. It would've been an unfortunate incident rather than a damning detail. I could've just let it go when Graham and I were standing in the bathroom and I was trying so hard to keep from freaking out. I could've forgiven him for the thing that wasn't entirely his fault.

  Why couldn't I let it go? I knew at least part of the answer—it was one thing to know about the other girls and forgive him for that. It was something else to see the actual girl. Just like that night in Liverpool, it was seeing the other woman, hard evidence that I wasn’t the only one he’d ever wanted. It was stupid. I knew that. It wasn’t like I’d never wanted other guys, but there was this part of me that wanted to be his one and only. I wanted to be special. I wanted to be more. His everything. You’re all I want, Ang. If that was true, and if I was ever going to truly believe it, I needed to start living in the present and stop dwelling on the past..

  "I swear, I have had nothing but the most amazing things happen to me since I've met you," Gigi said.

  I laughed—at least someone felt lucky. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to feel anymore. Torn into a million pieces? Heartbroken, again? At the very least, conflicted by my apparent undying predilection for Graham Whiting? Mad at myself for overthinking all of it? Pretty much.

  "First I meet Terence and we totally fall for each other and now this?" she added. "In a Banks Forest music video? My sister is going to kill me when she finds out."

  A make-up artist was finishing off an eyeshadow job on me that I could only describe as excessive. I liked sparkly makeup as much as the next girl, but the Day-Glo aqua was a shambles with my hair, which had been teased skyward and pulled back in a ponytail. "I'm a little worried I'm
going to end up looking like a drag queen."

  The makeup artist rolled her eyes and planted a hand on her hip, addressing me in the mirror. "You'll look like you aren't wearing anything if I don't overdo it. And the director wants something very fashion-forward."

  All I did was nod and smile. If I didn't get my mood in check, I'd only further annoy her and then I'd end up looking like Boy George. Plus, Gigi was right. This was exciting. Something I would normally never do. There were a million girls in the world who would've done anything—literally, anything— to be in my situation.

  From out of the dark recesses of the warehouse, Graham and Chris approached. My pulse picked up the instant I laid eyes on Graham. Why did my body have to have such a short memory span? A few hours ago it'd kicked in with those old feelings of jealousy, the sour stomach and the emptiness in the center of my chest. I'd never thought of myself as the jealous type. After all, I hadn't had a single pang of it last night when the band was playing, witnessing the way girls looked at Graham. Perhaps it was just that things were different when they were on stage, when there was an imaginary line separating them from the audience. It was the blurring of that line that hurt like hell.

  "We just found out about our lovely co-stars." Chris walked over and patted me on the shoulder, rivaling the makeup mirror lighting with his smile.

  "What are you going to do about taking pictures?" Graham asked me. "I know how important that is to you. It seems odd that you would just cast that aside for a chance to be in a pop band's music video." There was a downright angry edge to his voice, one that displeased me greatly, but he wasn’t wrong.

  "Liam has someone to take pictures for me. I won't get the credit on those shots, but the magazine won't care. They just want the images. Besides, Gigi and I will only be in some parts of the video. The rest of the time I can keep working." I might have made an out-of-character choice, but I hadn’t been completely irresponsible about it.

  He nodded and folded his arms across his chest. "As long as you have it all worked out to your exacting specifications."

  I stared at him, wanting to scream something about how I was trying to not be regular old Angie. I was trying something new. Didn’t I deserve a little credit for that?

  He stared back at me, seeming as if he was waiting for an explanation. There was nothing more to it.

  "You're all done," the makeup artist said to me. "Now it's the guys' turn."

  I took a few photos while Nigel, Terence, and Reggie met with Liam. Gigi was my assistant, insofar as she would hand me my camera bag when I decided to switch lenses or needed to reload film. Graham and Chris soon joined the meeting of the minds.

  "When does it get exciting?" Gigi whispered to me.

  "Just wait until they start playing the song over and over again through the speakers. Then you'll really be bored." Of course, this was a slightly more elaborate set-up than the previous video shoots I'd been to. There was food, there were places to sit. There was even a loo. For the band's first video shoot, which was directed by a few art school students from Stourbridge, there hadn't been a bathroom with a door. Ah, the glamourous life of rock 'n' roll.

  Liam waved us over. "Angie and Gigi, you're going to be sitting on the front edge of the stage while the band plays. For a few takes, I'll ask you to act very bored with the whole thing. The guys. The music. Everything."

  "In what world is that a good idea?" Graham asked. "The girls acting as if we're boring?"

  "You're winning them over, Graham. That's the theme we're going for here. Don't worry. You get the girl in the end."

  "So this is a fictional account of my life," Graham quipped.

  Good God he was in a wretched mood. Maybe he was finally too far gone, too far out of reach. He'd done too much and I'd insisted on too much perfection. Whatever we’d untangled over the last few days felt as if it was right back where we started.

  "Then we'll do several takes where it's very clear that you are completely enamored of your particular favorite bandmate," Liam said.

  "Favorite bandmate?" I asked.

  He nodded and eyed me in a way that made me a bit uncomfortable. "Yeah. Angie, I have you with Graham and Gigi, you're with Christopher. Then we'll shoot the more romantic stuff between each couple back in the alley behind the building, including a kiss."

  The alley? A kiss? This was why I planned things. I wasn't sure what I'd expected, or even what I'd hoped for, but I knew one thing—kissing Graham wasn’t going to help me see a way for us to be together.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Graham

  Now that Terence had just been informed that his new girlfriend would be kissing Chris, he was more irate than I’d ever seen him.

  "Hold on a minute, I'm supposed to sit by and let Christopher Bloody Penman kiss my girlfriend?" Terence asked, his voice straining. "I don't care if they're supposed to be acting. I'll never get her back."

  Gigi rushed over to Terence's side and looped her arm in his. "Don't say that. It'll be fine. I can be a professional about it. I swear."

  Under any other circumstances, I'd probably be having a good laugh over this one. Terence wasn't wrong. He might not get his girlfriend back. The thing was, I was too fixated on wanting my own back. My real one. Angie.

  I shouldn't have gotten angry with her when I'd arrived. I was already regretting that. But why did she have to be so stubborn about her job when it came to me, and the second some hot-shot video director took a liking to her, she cast everything aside? Why was she so willing to give the rest of the world a break, but I had to be bloody perfect? It wasn't fair. And that was what made me angry.

  At least I was going to get a goodbye kiss. I hadn't even had that to count on an hour ago.

  The band set up on stage with our equipment and the girls took their places, Angie sitting at my feet. She didn't seem horribly pleased by the prospect, but she did it anyway. We took several takes, but I just couldn't get into it. All I could think about was how wrong everything was right now and how I didn't have much time until she'd be out of my grasp, again. I saw the life ahead of me as a desolate landscape. She was irreplaceable. Besides, being on the road was no place to find someone to love, someone who would love me back. I already knew that for certain.

  "Graham, is everything okay?" Liam asked, after the fifth or sixth take. "You seem very stiff."

  I wanted to scream that I absolutely wasn't okay, because the woman I wanted more than anything was within arm's length and it felt as if she was already a continent away. I wanted to scream that Angie and I should just say "fuck it" to our circumstances, deal with them, and stay together, all because we loved each other. Why the fuck isn’t that enough?

  "I just don't like this business of the girls acting bored. It feels all wrong."

  Liam paced closer and nodded, pinching his lower lip. "Okay. We'll switch to the shots where the girls are quite taken with you. Maybe that will help. Angie, Gigi, I want you two standing right next to your guy, maybe holding on to their arm, running fingers through their hair, smiling, being flirtatious."

  "While they're performing?" Angie asked. "Seriously?"

  Oh Good God. Now I was wishing we could go back to bored.

  "Yes, seriously." Liam's tone cut right through the air, making Angie wince.

  All I wanted to do was protect her. And punch Liam. I did have a bit of a desire to do that as well.

  "Look, I've directed dozens of videos that have done incredibly well on MTV,” Liam continued. “You're all just going to have to trust me. Once it's edited together with the other footage, it'll be a masterpiece."

  "Right then," I said. "Let's get on with it." Yes, let's see how much more awkward things can get between me and the girl I love.

  Angie stood up, right next to me. "It was dumb of me to agree to this, wasn't it?"

  “Depends on which part of it you’re regretting.”

  She grinned. A soft blush colored her cheeks. “The part where I pretend like I have any business bein
g in a music video.”

  A smile and a few words from her and I felt as if I had a tiny sliver of a chance. “I’m glad you did it. At least we’re talking. And it's a cute story we can tell our grandchildren."

  She rolled her eyes. But I could also tell she was hiding a smile—that sent tiny zips of electricity through me. She somehow thrilled me even when she wanted to be annoyed. "You don't give up, Graham Whiting. Do you?"

  "No. I don't. The question is whether you're going to give up."

  Liam clapped his hands. "Alright. Let's do another take. Girls, start flirting."

  We were talking, you git. I took a deep breath, cursing Liam and his desire to stay on schedule. The playback began and I grabbed the microphone in its stand. Angie was tentative at first, rubbing my arm so lightly that I almost couldn't feel it. I started lip syncing along to the song, feeling more relaxed than before, but mostly out of amusement at what Angie was being asked to do. She fumbled with my hair a bit, stood closer to me, awkwardly brushed her nose again my cheek.

  "Cut!" Liam shouted, shaking his head and marching toward the stage. "Gigi, you're doing perfectly."

  "A little too perfectly from where I'm sitting," Terence chimed in.

  Angie's shoulders slumped. "I take it that means I'm doing it wrong?"

  "You're wound too tight. It's all I can see on the monitor. You need to loosen up."

  Angie turned to me and grimaced. "Maybe I'm wound too tight because this is stupid," she muttered under her breath.

  "So it isn't just me who thinks that?" I asked in a whisper.

  "No. But I suppose he knows what he's doing."

  "The record company is paying him like he's going to cure cancer with this video."

  Angie laughed. She didn’t even try to hold back. "I suppose I'd better try harder, huh?"

  "It's not that difficult to pretend that you like me, is it?"

  She stood perfectly still, looking up at me. "It's not hard to pretend that I like you. Like I said, it's hard to pretend that I'm the sort of girl who would do this in the first place."