by Marisa Logan
He caressed my cheek then sent me back. The audience was on their feet now. They didn't stop clapping until after I bowed deeply, took my seat alongside Sheryl, then got up to bow again just to satisfy them.
The rest of the show was a blur. I somehow managed to answer Sheryl's questions without making a fool of myself. Half of her questions centered around Ashe, and I admitted that yes, he was the one I'd written my song about. That drew a series of “Ohhhs” and “Awwws” from the audience.
When it was over I went back to the dressing room and shut myself inside. I was alone, but I could still feel the applause in my heart.
I could also feel the void inside of me. The emptiness that was the price I'd paid for fame and glory. I laid a hand over my heart, closed my eyes, and reminded myself that it was worth it.
It was worth it.
Chapter 10
Ashe came back to my dressing room a few minutes later. He smiled at me and opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't give him the chance. I grabbed him and kissed him, sliding my tongue between his sweet lips to savor the taste of him. He wrapped his arms around me and responded eagerly. My body melded against his and I clung to him for dear life.
After what I'd traded to him, he truly was my life now.
My lips broke away from his and strayed to his ear, kissing and nibbling on it. “You did this,” I whispered between bites. “How? You made me...”
“I didn't make you do anything, baby doll.” He leaned back and held my face in his hands. “We made a bargain, plain and simple.”
“Are you the devil?” I trembled. I didn't care if he was. It didn't matter. But I had to know who it was that I'd fallen in love with.
“More like his cousin.” Ashe grinned, and for just a moment in the dim light of the dressing room, I knew I saw a flash of fangs. “You might know me as Ashtaroth.”
Ashtaroth. Great Duke of Hell. Demon of Vanity.
I nodded, uncaring, and pulled his lips to mine again. I was still filled with energy from the show, my chest bursting with the swelling of my heart from the adoration, the applause, the love. And it had all been because of this man.
I looked into the mirror and saw a girl I hardly recognized. It wasn't just the makeup and the stylish hair, the way I was dolled up for the performance. I looked into my reflection's eyes and saw a girl who was taking what she wanted. A girl who didn't hesitate. Who knew she deserved this, knew that she was worthy, that she was wanted, that she was needed. A girl filled with a confidence I'd never known before I met Ashe.
I saw a girl who was no longer shy.
I felt a change within me, staring into that girl's eyes. A savage grin twisted her lips into something almost inhuman. I embraced that moment, embraced that girl, became her, leaving behind shyness, doubt, and fear.
In that moment I left behind The Faceless Soprano. My mask had been torn off, my face and my music exposed to the world, and they loved me for it. I'd take on a new name, a new label, something to mark this new stage of my life and the new music I'd be making from this day on.
I clung to Ashe, feeling dizzy with the sudden waves of euphoria at my epiphany. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling my scent. “You looked like a girl who's feeling energized,” he said, chuckling.
“I feel like I've been liberated,” I said. I leaned back and looked into his eyes. I could see the demon behind those dark agates now, and it thrilled me, filled me with desires I'd never known before. It didn't make sense, it didn't line up with anything I'd believed in before I'd met him, but it was perfect nonetheless.
“My fans are waiting,” I said, staring into my reflection's eyes. I saw her smile. My chest ached with need. I needed my public to see me. I needed to hear their cries of love, see the adoration in their eyes. I had autographs to sign, pictures to take, hands to shake, and hundreds of people who would want a chance to see me, to touch me, to know my presence.
“This is just the beginning,” Ashe said.
“Oh?” I hadn't thought any further ahead than this day, this moment. I'd gotten what I wanted. What more could there be?
“You've got more appearances to make,” he said. He stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “We've got a concert tour to plan. Merchandise to sell. Albums to record. You're going to be the thing everyone's talking about for years to come.”
“A star,” I said, still staring into my reflection's eyes.
“That's right, baby doll.”
“Well,” I said, smirking, “I'd better not keep my adoring public waiting.”
I headed out and found a stagehand waiting for me. He led me out to a room where the rabid fans waited, having been forced into a somewhat-orderly line by members of the TV studio crew. I'd been told when prepping for the show that all I had to do was walk down the line, stopping to shake a hand here and there, signing autographs for a few of them, before moving on to the limo waiting for me outside. But when I saw the long line of people, hundreds of them, all eager to see me, I couldn't bear to disappoint them.
I started down the line, taking my time, greeting every single person. I asked for everyone's name, signed every autograph they asked for, posed for every picture. Dozens of people begged me to take selfies with them so they could post them to Twitter and Facebook. A few of the more eager fans, men and women both, asked me to autograph their bare skin with a sharpie. I was more than happy to do so.
It took a long while to make my way down the entire line, but they waited for me, and the fans at the far end were just as happy to see me as the first few had been.
I greeted them with hugs and smiles, answered their excited questions, and signed the pictures they thrust into my hands. I couldn't get enough of the attention, and it made me wonder why I'd hidden behind The Faceless Soprano for so many years.
Ashe stood off in the shadows the entire time, watching me, smiling. This was the gift he had given me, though at the same time I knew I'd earned it myself. It was like he said to me at our first meeting. I was the one with the talent. He had simply known how to manage that talent, how to bring it out and let it shine. He didn't once try to pull me away, or ask for any credit for himself. He just watched me, thriving on my moment, feeding off the energy in the room as I embraced the rewards I'd waited for for so long.
The last few fans were a group of teenage girls, all wearing The Faceless Soprano t-shirts. They bounced up and down as I greeted them and signed autographs for them. One, a thin girl with dark makeup and too much jewelry, asked me, “Ohmygodohmygod, how are you so awesome?”
I smiled at her and gave her a hug. “Lots of practice,” I said.
She laughed and shook her head. “No, seriously. Were you just born this good? What's your secret?”
I glanced back at Ashe. He just smiled at me. I realized there was no secret to my talent. To my success, sure, but my talent was my own. Ashe hadn't made these girls love me. They'd no doubt loved me since before they had ever seen my face. Ashe just gave me the help I needed to break out of my shell, to have the courage to stand here in front of my fans instead of hiding who I was.
“You want to know my real secret?” I asked the girls.
They gathered around, nodding. Their eyes were wide, their lips pressed tight together in silence as they waited to hear what I had to say.
I leaned close to them. They leaned their heads in a tight circle, like we were whispering secrets to each other in the schoolyard.
“The real secret,” I said, as the girls hung on my every word, “is to know just how awesome you are. People will tell you that you need to work hard, to practice, to have dedication. But at the end of the day, you can work as hard as you want, and you'll never get anywhere, not if you doubt yourself.”
I reached out and pinched one girl's cheek. “But if you can look at yourself in the mirror and say, 'I'm awesome, I deserve this,' then you'll be able to do anything you want.” I glanced back at Ashe, but he had slipped away, leaving me to my moment. I turned back to
the girls and smiled. “Anything at all.”
I hugged them all in turn, then posed for some pictures. I made them promise to tag my @FacelessSoprano Twitter account when they tweeted the pics.
“No, wait,” I said, pausing at the door. I wasn't going to be The Faceless Soprano anymore. “Tag it to my real account. You girls can be the first ones to know it. I'm @MadelineWright. Wright with a W. That's my real name.”
They squealed and agreed, and as I walked out the door they were already telling the Twitterverse about how they'd met Madeline Wright and gotten her autograph. I went outside and got into the waiting limo, sitting beside Ashe. As we drove off, I dug into my purse and pulled out my smartphone, then made an announcement on @FacelessSoprano that I was shutting this account now in favor of my real account. I told all of my fans where they could find me, under my real name, and within minutes my Madeline account was exploding with followers by the thousands.
I leaned back in my seat, feeling a sense of relief in my chest. My secrets were all exposed now. My real name revealed. Soon my face would be on billboards all over town, and I wasn't going to hide, not ever again.
I took Ashe's hand and smiled. “The Faceless Soprano is dead,” I said. “But Madeline Wright...she's going to be a star.”
THE END
***
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