by Sadie Grubor
So, three weeks ago, when the contract offers came in from Nobil and Bel Suono Studios, I felt confident with Red reviewing the papers and discussing them with me. After input from Jackson, I formally asked Red to manage my career.
Red's been supportive, brutally honest, and clear about our working arrangement being parallel to the club. He sets up my appearance at the club as if I'm a featured guest so I am free to arrange something else should it arrive. And his suggestion to go with Nobil's deal allows me and Red the freedom to choose most performance venues and appearances, while agreeing to give them exclusive rights to any recorded and live music.
The deal is perfect since I don't have any intentions of becoming a pop singer or doing huge tours like The Forgotten and Hush. Though, I do have a clause requiring me to record with some of their artists, Nobil is listed as my recording label, and I've also agreed to a five venue burlesque tour. The studio time and tour is currently being figured out logistically to allow time for me to work on the creative end of the live show. This means I'll need to record the music in the show for retail sales.
"It's about time!" Sid exclaims when we reach the sitting area of the club.
The tables and chairs stacked off to the far side allow room for different photo shoot sets.
"Damn!" Jackson exclaims, glancing around the room.
"These look great." I take in the scenes.
The large gilded mirror above the VIP booth is draped in red velvet, overflowing into the black leather booth. The table is gone, leaving the opportunity for full body photos. The stage is arranged with a clear bathtub, and pink satin drapes from the ceiling with black and white bows accenting areas. The tub is empty, but a large bubble machine sits just in front. The shimmery white chaise lounge we occasionally use onstage is surrounded by dangling pearls and diamond strands with a white fur rug beneath. The baby grand piano is polished and draped in metallic gold. A plain white background is set up just in front of the bar, and last is a raised platform covered in red satin with a red and white striped background set up behind it.
"Because I'm awesome," Sid boasts, giving me a wink.
"Yes, you are." I nod.
"Go get dressed," she orders. "The costumes are set up and numbered in order."
"Yes, ma'am," I salute.
Turning to Jackson, I push up to my tiptoes for a kiss. He leans down, cupping my ass and squeezing.
"Get a room," Sid teases.
Jackson's head snaps in her direction, a large grin on his face.
"Oh, I can take this to the dressing room if you want?"
"No," Sid cries. "Then I'll never get the pictures."
"See ya in a bit." I pat his chest and disappear backstage to get dressed.
"I have no idea how to put this on." The voice is new, but I know it's Mia.
Entering the changing room, Bethany is fully costumed in a leopard print corset dress. She's leaning over and attaching a garter to Mia's fishnet stocking.
"There you go." She straightens and examines her work.
"Thank you so much," Mia sighs in appreciation. "I don't know how you guys do this all the time."
She places her hands on her black leather corset, rubbing her stomach. The black, leather boy shorts hug her ass perfectly and her legs are complimented by the knee-high gladiator boots.
"You get used to it," I say, dropping my bag on my chair.
A large grin spreads across her face and she slips a black, cat-ear headband on her head.
"Hey," she greets, opening her arms and engulfing me in them.
"I didn't know you were doing the photo shoot." I return the hug. "I thought Chris didn't—”
She pulls back, dropping her arms.
"Yeah, Chris likes to think he's in charge of everything." There's a hint of rebellion in her voice. "Anyway, I figure this is a good compromise. I won't perform live, but I will be a part of the calendar Red is putting together." She moves with a grace that makes me jealous and sits in Bethany's chair. "Besides, he can't argue when he finds out it's for charity." She gives an evil smile.
"You go, girl." Gemma Harper enters the room.
"Red recruited you, too?" Mia asks.
"Yep." She smiles, flipping her neon red curled hair over her shoulder.
She looks around the room and her brow furrows.
"The rest of the band isn't participating?"
"Laney and Kat are in another room." Mia tilts her head toward what used to be a storage room until Red remodeled backstage to provide more private dressing areas.
"Cool," Gemma says to Mia before turning to me. "And you," she starts, walking toward me, "when are you going to come to New York and read for my director? He's dying to add a burlesque inspired steampunk character to the show."
"I believe Red is trying to work it out," I explain. "It's just been a bit…"
"Overwhelming?" Mia offers.
"Yes," I sigh out the word, and drop into my chair.
She nods, understanding written on her face.
"Chris and Jack aren't exactly the same, but they both go balls-to-the-wall when they desire something," she says. "When they work on a song, I won't enter the room for fear of losing a limb."
I laugh.
"Oh my God!" Gemma exclaims, slipping out of her sailor inspired dress. "I remember recording with them. I thought their brotherhood and the band was over, but in the end, they just nod and fist bump."
"That's part of it," I say, shrugging. "The rest is just the career stuff. If I didn't have Jackson and Red, I'd be in a moving truck bound for Pennsylvania."
Gemma holds an emerald green bra-top to her chest with one hand and clasps my shoulder with her left.
"It will take some getting used to, but I'm confident you'll handle it well."
"Thanks." I give a small smile and start slipping off my street clothes.
"My boobs look amazing!" Kat bursts into the room, wearing the circus ringleader costume: shiny, black, second-skin pants, a red brocade corset with gold tassels, thigh-high black boots, and a miniature black and red top hat on her head.
"Let me feel," Mia says, pushing out of the chair and grabbing Kat's boobs.
"Pretty fucking awesome, right?" Kat puffs out her chest.
"Damn, they are pushed up to perfection, aren't they?" Mia taps the curve bulging from the top. "Serena could play a sick beat on them."
"I'm never taking this off." Kat walks over to the loveseat and plops down.
"Yeah, right. One hot, dirty boy and you'll lose the duds in a blink." Laney leans against the doorway dressed in a silver flapper inspired corset. The color compliments her fair skin and light pink hair. The metallic silver stilettos add a couple inches to her tiny frame.
"Where are my models?" Sid yells backstage.
Barging into the room, she looks each of us over, one by one.
"Kat, your tits look awesome. Mia, I may grab your ass. This is fair warning. Laney, you are too fucking cute. I think I want to take you home as a pet."
Laney blinks at Sid as the rest laugh.
"Come on, Hush, we've got to get this shindig started." With a wave of her hand, she motions for them to head out to the scenes.
Mia stops long enough to present her ass to Sid and true to her word, she clasps with both hands.
"Chris is a lucky fucking man," Sid states before following a laughing Mia.
"This is going to be one crazy ass day, isn't it?" Gemma asks, still staring at the door.
"Yep," Bethany and I say in unison.
In a crystal chandelier dress with a white satin corset beneath, my hair pulled up on my head with white feathers, and clear, glass-inspired heels, I walk out for the photo shoot.
"No fucking way, Mia," Chris shouts.
She stands on the gilded mirror stage with her arms over her chest.
"It's for a charity calendar. Stop being—”
"Stop being what?" he interrupts. "Stop not wanting you to be half-naked for millions to see?" He shakes his head v
iolently and then points to the floor. "Get the fuck down and go change."
Dropping her arms to her sides, she fists her wrist-length fishnet-gloved hands.
"Private Island, Chris," she says through clenched teeth.
His body stills.
"You reserved an entire island without fucking asking what I wanted," she continues grinding the words through her teeth.
"Baby," his voice softens.
"Don't baby me," she barks. "You didn't ask about a half-million dollar island, so I don't have to ask about a charity calendar."
Half a million dollars for an island? Did he buy the damn thing?
"I hope you got a receipt to return that shit," Sid mumbles, but shuts up when Chris cuts a glare her way.
"The opportunity presented itself," Chris explains. "It will be the perfect way to keep reporters out of our wedding."
"And you couldn't bother to ask me about it?" Her brow raises.
"Okay, so maybe I could've, but you aren't interested in planning the wedding," he accuses.
Bad move.
Mia's face contorts in anger, but before she can unleash, Sid interrupts.
"I'm just gonna move on to Kat for now. I'll be back," she informs, putting up a finger and pointing to where Kat sits, waiting in front of the red and white striped scene.
"No," Mia blurts. "I'm ready." She nods to Sid and then glares at Chris.
"Get out of the way, Christopher."
He opens his mouth.
"Christopher Tobias Mason, I swear to God, if you don't walk away right now, not only will there be no sex until we're married, but I'll insist we live separately."
Chris snaps his mouth shut, but flames burn in his eyes.
Grumbling inaudibly, he storms off to lick his wounds in a chair next to Jackson, Red, and…Xavier, I think. It's Xavier who claps Chris on his back, which earns him a glower.
"Damn, girl," Sid whistles and begins the shoot.
While Sid does her thing, I walk over to where the guys are watching.
"Liza, your cousin is a girl after my own heart." Red grins.
"She can be pretty amazing." I return the smile.
"And fucking insane," Xavier mumbles.
I fight not to laugh when I remember the picture Jackson showed me of Xavier in the closet tied up.
"Where's Kel?" I look around for my brother.
"I've got him looking over inventory." Red motions over his shoulder with a thumb. "Your brother is a damn wizard with that shit. I've been trying to get Todd, the head bartender, up to speed on it, but he just can't get it. Your brother stepped right in to help me out and he's rocking it."
"Really?" I ask, the warmth of pride filling my chest.
"Red's almost convinced him to go to Business College," Jackson adds, pulling me to him and sitting me on his knee.
"Seriously?" I ask Red, eyes wide with hope.
"Told him he needs to go to school and I'll hire him to help manage this place." Red shrugs.
"He's only eighteen."
Red nods. "I know. I talked to him. He can help out around here and learn, but won't be official until he has a degree. He won't be serving, so he doesn't have to be twenty-one."
Slipping off Jackson's knee, I wrap my arms around Red's shoulders and squeeze.
"Thank you." I fight off the tears.
"No problem," he says, giving me a one arm hug and pat on my back.
"Okay, he gets it." Jackson grabs my hips, pulling me back onto his lap. "Red was also just telling us about an idea he has for a benefit concert," Jackson says.
"When?" I ask Red.
Sighing, he rubs his large hand over his cropped hair.
"Not sure. It will take at least a year to plan and it's a lot to take on right now."
"Because of my stuff," I say.
"Partly, yeah." He nods.
"Red, you don't have to—”
He puts a big hand in my face, shutting me up.
"I chose to be your manager, Liza. I know the business and you're good business."
He levels a look at me, daring an argument. I keep my mouth shut.
"I'd like to plan it for next year around the anniversary of Ethan's death," Red says, eyes shifting to Xavier.
He stiffens and slowly looks at Red.
"What are you up to?" Xavier's brow furrows.
"I'd like to have Corrosive Velocity play for the benefit," he admits.
"Without a fucking lead singer?" Xavier snaps.
Red shrugs, and says, "I was thinking of asking Chris or Mia to stand in as the front man."
"You're out of your mind if you think Corbin will go for any of this."
"If we present a united front, I think we could get him to step up for a cancer benefit."
Jackson stills and his thigh muscle tightens beneath me.
"We'd probably play the benefit," Chris offers quietly. "I'd have to talk to the guys first, but…" he lets the words die off and completely ignores the topic of singing for Corrosive Velocity.
"Liza," Sid calls, getting my and the rest of the table's attention. "You're up."
She leans forward to pick up a lens from her bag and catches Xavier staring. Slowly, she raises her middle finger, kisses the tip, and blows. Xavier growls.
"Damn it, she's soooo my kind of crazy."
Red chuckles.
I climb off Jackson's lap and follow Sid to the piano set.
"We're starting here and then you can change for the next set." Sid directs my body in front of the piano, ass facing her camera angle.
"How many of the scenes are we doing?" I ask.
"You are doing all of them." She lies on the floor, focuses her lens, and snaps up at me. "Then Red can decide what he wants to use on the calendar and other shit like your website."
"I have a website?" I ask.
"Don't make that face." She cringes. "It won't photo well."
Schooling my features, I pose for her shot.
"Yes, you have a website." She clicks the camera and climbs from the floor. "You're welcome."
"Sid?" I ask through a perfectly practiced lip curl and eye fucking.
"Yes, my dear." She brings the camera close to my face and snaps.
"I want to hire you."
"For what?" She lowers the camera.
"Well, Jackson has Julia to help him and me, but you can do the website and such. You can obviously still do the other stuff, I just want to be one of your clients."
"You really trust me to help you with stuff?" Her head tilts.
"I trust you with my life, Sidra."
Her nose wrinkles at her full name.
"I trust you with my son."
She smiles and wraps her arms around me, pulling back quickly.
"Holy shit, those crystals are hard as fuck," she states, rubbing her boobs. "They tried to take out the girls."
Shaking my head, I giggle.
It's bittersweet to sit front row at the Hidden Talent finale. And, if I'm honest, I wouldn't be here tonight if Jackson and Chris weren't performing. Their set has been kept a secret, only being mentioned as a surprise performance in the commercials leading up to the show. Jackson won't tell me what they're doing.
The reporters went crazy when Jackson and I entered the building. Over the past weeks, we've established an understanding with most of them. We give the reporters and cameramen ten minutes or so and most will back off. Of course, it doesn't always work and not all of the paparazzi actually follow through, but it does lessen the numbers.
Big Kam is the first to take me away from Jackson, talking about wanting to feature me on a track he's working on. Jackson steals me back, telling Kam to speak to Red.
Tonight, the mentor chairs are gone. They've been given the first few rows for themselves and their guests. Chris and Mia sit on Jackson's right with me on his left. Jimmy, Kat, Laney, Xavier, Sid, and Kel sit a row behind us.
Hushed Mentality is the second act to take the stage and bring the audience to their feet. Xavie
r fills in on drums since Serena is home with the new baby. Jimmy even steps out from the side and joins Laney. The performance makes me a bit more jealous of Mia. The girl can sing, play guitar, and bare her soul in beautifully constructed lyrics. And the look of pride on Chris' face makes my stomach warm. The raw love in his eyes is the stuff little girls dream about.
Next up is one of the finalists. In fact, it's the sweet bubblegum snob who called me a prostitute. It's taking a lot of effort not to stand up and out sing this little bitch during her performance. It's petty and arrogant, but I know I could do it. Instead, I take satisfaction knowing she had to follow Mia Ryder's performance.
"I've gotta go back," Jackson whispers.
I smile and nod. He and Chris make their way around the side of the stage into darkness. Anticipation brings pterodactyl size butterflies to life in my stomach.
"It will be great," Mia whispers, slipping into Jackson's empty seat.
"Do you know what they're doing?" I ask in a hush.
She shakes her head. "Chris only said Jackson needed to do this," she says, and glances over her shoulder.
I follow her gaze and find Jimmy.
"The fact that he's not going back has me really curious," she states, her face turning back to me with a large grin.
The stage darkens and a spotlight lands on the host of the show up on a balcony.
"Tonight, we have a special performance by two members of The Forgotten. They will be giving you a peek into their newest unreleased song," he announces with a grin.
The crowd screams.
"In a stripped down performance, I give you, Christopher Mason and Jackson Shaw."
With a wave of his hand, the backdrop of the stage turns blue. A soft spotlight lands on Christopher behind a grand piano and microphone. The piano is slanted so he faces the crowd at an angle. Another illuminates Jackson sitting next to him on a stool, holding his guitar on his lap. A mic stand stretches from the floor toward Jackson's mouth.
The once roaring crowd falls silent.
Jackson starts a slow rhythm, leading everyone along his journey, higher and higher, until Chris comes in with the piano. He strokes keys, licks his lips, and hums into the mic. And then, Jackson's voice fills the room, starting off the song.
