by Michelle Lee
“Hi, I’m Phillip. You’re Val’s friend, Jules, right?” he eagerly asks, holding his hand out to me.
With some hesitation, I firmly shake his hand, all business. Phillip winces a little; apparently I’m not as dainty as he thought. “That would be me.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jules. Are you a fan of Redemption?” I know he’s trying to make idle conversation, but I don’t want to make idle chitchat. I just want him to give me some space. He doesn’t seem to get the hint, so I put on a brave face and join in. I notice Val and Tracy look my way and give me thumbs up. I give them a nod in acknowledgement and channel their encouragement and strength.
“Um, actually, I’ve never heard of them. This isn’t really my thing. Val and Tracy tric… begged me to come. So here I am.” I’m proud of myself for actually answering and interacting with him like a normal woman would. He’s cute, in that boy-next-door sorta way. His brown eyes are warm and inviting when I take a really long, deep look at them. He isn’t dressed like the men I saw when we first entered the arena. His dark-wash jeans look good against the light blue, long-sleeved button-down he’s wearing. The sleeves are pushed up past his elbows, and the first couple of buttons are undone.
“Oh, well, I think you’ll enjoy the concert. They aren’t hardcore. They’re more of a crossover rock band,” he adds, like I know what he’s talking about. “What do you listen to?”
“Umm classical composers such as Mozart, Debussy and Beethoven, Yo Yo Ma,” I inform him, waiting for the laughing to ensue. Who ever heard of a twenty-six-year-old that has their car stereo programmed with nothing but classical stations?
“Cool,” he replies with a smirk, as if to say “I have no clue who the they are”.
“So, how did you and Val meet?” he questions, continuing the awkward conversation.
“Val and I met at an event about two years ago. We’ve been best friends ever since,” I inform him.
“Cool.” He sounds interested as he bobs his head and smiles at me, his eyes playful—thoughtful.
I can feel the awkward silence setting in, shifting from foot to foot. I don’t necessarily want him to leave, but I’m getting that uncomfortable feeling. My skin heats up causing little beads of sweat to dot my forehead. You shouldn’t be talking to him. Nervousness swirls around in my stomach as he inches closer to me. Don’t let him touch you. Out of habit and fear, I adjust my stance away from his approach. He doesn’t have permission to touch me.
“You’re really pretty. Val has mentioned how pretty you are, but seeing you in person, you’re even prettier than she described.” His eyes are wide and suddenly don’t look as welcoming as they did before. A smile spreads across his lips, and his fingers reach out toward me. I feel my insides twist into knots. The inevitable feel of needing to fight or flee starts to build up, and I don’t know what to do. I’m a bundle of nerves, and my body begins to shake. Not that he can notice—they never do.
Sensing my need to be rescued, Tracy skips over to save me. “Phillip, can I borrow her for minute. There’s someone I want her to meet.” Her voice is like a safety line, and I grab it with all my might. Relief starts to wash over me, and the panic attack I felt ebbing its way into my being retreats. I hate him. I hate what Blake did to me and how it changed me. I pray every day that I can change, that I can overcome it, and not have him affect me. I read and know it takes time. And once that time has passed and I’ve healed, I will be able to feel somewhat like myself before him. I desperately want that. I want to be able to be around a man and not freak out. I want to feel safe and trust again. I want to be normal. My girls tell me it takes time; that I will be able to trust and feel safe again. That there is a man out there who will make me feel safe, cherished, and above all else, loved for who I truly am without any hesitation or cruelness. I so desperately want to believe them. But I fear even if he is out there and I do find him, I won’t know because I will be so guarded that I won’t let him in to get close enough to find out.
Maybe I should call that number on the card the police officer gave me. I thought I could do this on my own—too embarrassed to let anyone else know my deep, dark secret, but it’s time. I can’t keep going like this.
“Sure, no problem. Just as long as you don’t keep her too long; we were just getting to know each other.” He offers Tracy a brilliant smile before turning his attention back to me.
“Nice to meet you, Phillip,” I politely say as Tracy begins to pull me away.
“Nice to meet you too.” His voice is laced with disappointment.
“Tracy, thank you.” She has been my savior on more than one occasion, and I don’t know how or if I will ever be able to repay. As much as she can be a pain in my ass, like with this whole concert thing, I can’t imagine getting through half of what I’ve gotten through if Tracy hadn’t been by my side. She has been a god send. We met at a wine tasting about a year ago. Tracy insists something told her to go to that wine tasting even though she has an aversion to the taste of it. Something deep in her soul told her she needed to be there. She will say without a shadow of a doubt that I was the reason she needed to go—she was meant to meet me and become my friend—a friend I needed more than anything at that time. My soul cried out to her, and she just knew what she was meant to do.
“I had a feeling you needed to be rescued. Are you doing okay?” she asks me, tapping her slender finger to her temple. Tracy always has a way of knowing what I need. It’s weird, but in instances like this one, I am more than glad she does. I nod, and she gives me a nod back with a smile that puts me at ease and lets me know she understands and is here for me.
We walk over to Val, who of course is surrounded by a crowd of men. I wish I could be like Val—have an eighth of her carefree attitude and confidence, her trusting nature. Val is the beauty queen and social butterfly of our little family. She has men falling all over her wherever she goes, and tonight is no exception. Val is in her element, being the center of attention. Tracy and I just shake our heads when we hear the infamous “come and get me, boys” laugh. Val obviously doesn’t need to be rescued like I did. We approach her from behind and immediately she senses us and turns, giving us the hugest grin with a lick of her glossy lips.
“Jules, Tracy, I would like you to meet, Xavier, Trevor, Eric, and Chris. Guys, these are my two best friends, Jules and Tracy,” Val introduces us to her crowd of admirers.
“Hi,” they all say in unison.
“Hi,” Tracy and I reply. I feel a little weird, like Tracy and I are intruding or something, so I tune out the conversation for a moment and drop my gaze toward the stage.
We all stand around making idle chitchat. Well, the rest of the group does. I just listen, waiting for the opening act to take the stage. Apparently, they were handpicked by Redemption to go on tour with them, just like the main act picked Redemption to open for them. It doesn’t mean or make a difference to me. All I know is I wished I had stopped and bought a pair of ear plugs. If the little tidbit of one of their songs I heard earlier is any indication of what was to come, then I will definitely need them. I like being able to hear. The gaggle of admirers finally disperses when a man walks in, making a direct line to Val.
“Ah, Miss Winston, it is so nice to see you again.” The very well-dressed man with salt and pepper hair, dark brown eyes that hold a mystic to them, and a warm smile approaches Val and takes her hand in his, brings it to his lips, and kisses it. Val smiles back at him, almost blushing.
“Roland, it’s good to see you again too. Thank you for sending over the tickets. Let me introduce you to my friends. This is Jules Bennett, and this is Tracy Scott. Girls, this is Roland Adams, the band’s manager,” Val informs us.
“Nice to meet you, ladies. It’s my pleasure, and I have something else for you and your friends, my dear.” Roland shakes both mine and Tracy’s hands. After he releases them, his eyes linger on me a little longer. I see something shift in his eyes. It’s just a brief moment, and then it’s gone.
He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out what looks like laminated cards on necklaces.
“Here, three backstage passes. I know the boys are anxious to meet the PR whiz that will be working with them.” Roland smiles and hands over the backstage passes to Val.
“Thank you so much. I look forward to meeting and working with them too.”
“Well, ladies, it was nice meeting you, and enjoy the show,” Roland bows his head and walks away. He looks over his shoulder, his eyes on me, before leaving the Skybox. Chills chase up my spine.
Before I can process his reaction Tracy squeals almost incoherently, “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”
“Calm down Scott, or I will not let you have one of these,” Val taunts Tracy, dangling the pass in front of her.
“Right. Cool, calm, and collected…” Tracy takes a deep breath and steadies herself, smoothing her hands down her torso. “…but ohmygodohmygod, I’m gonna meet Lance Caulfield, in the flesh,” she continues to squeal, grabbing the dangling pass as if it where the last thing in the world she needed to survive. I suddenly have a vision of Tracy being Gollum in Lord of the Rings flash before my eyes, gripping the backstage pass close to her chest, caressing it, kissing it and calling it her “precious. “I start to giggle.
“What are you laughing at? I am going to meet my destiny, the father of my children, and you’ll see, we will be together forever,” Tracy informs us, gripping the pass to her chest as she sways back and forth.
“You are such a groupie,” Val teases.
“Yes I am,” Tracy confirms.
Val hands me the backstage pass. I guess I’m going to meet the man with the screeching voice. Fanfreakintastic. Here I thought I would be heading straight home after the concert ends, but it looks as though the non-music fairies have other plans for me.
THE OPENING BAND isn’t all that bad. Actually, they are quite good, and I am very surprised that I actually like them. The arena is once again flooded with light, and the people below scurry away from their seats. Val, Tracy, and I head over to the bar for another round of Apple Martinis—our third, actually. As I sip on the sweet elixir, I begin to feel tingly all over, the effect of the alcohol making itself known. I pop the cherry into my mouth, swirl it around with my tongue, pull off the stem, and suck on the plump fruit. Val and Tracy gape at me with wide eyes, their jaws on the floor.
“Jules, what the fuck was that? Were you just mouth fucking that cherry?” Val not so eloquently asks.
“God, no. Was I? I don’t think I…” I quickly try to recover from my obviously unintended sexual cherry exploration.
“Well, it sure looked like you were. You are so cut off. No more alcohol for you,” insists Val.
Part of me wants to be pissed off because she is cutting me off, ultimately killing the buzz I am feeling so I can withstand the torture that will shortly ensue, while the other part is grateful because I suddenly realize that Phillip is once again staring at me with eyes blazing. The heat once again radiates throughout my body, ultimately taking up residence on my cheeks, exposing my embarrassment. He saunters over to me as Val and Tracy occupy themselves with Val’s admirers from earlier.
“How are you enjoying yourself?” he questions with a hint of playfulness in his voice.
“I’m actually having a great time, surprisingly enough,” I admit with confidence. I can’t help but wonder if it’s the alcohol coursing through my veins that’s giving me that confidence.
“Good. Um, you, um, never got a chance to answer my question earlier,” he hesitantly reminds me.
“What question?” I ask, because quite honestly my mind is getting a little fuzzy as the third and final Apple Martini takes full effect.
“The question I was going to ask before Tracy pulled you away. I was just wondering, if at some point you didn’t have plans one night and would you like to go out sometime? It wouldn’t have to anything major. Maybe just out for some pizza or even just coffee if that sounds better?” he asks as his eyes dart from me to Val and Tracy and then back to me.
“Um, sure, why not? The alcohol is giving me a little push to say yes, but in all honesty, I really want to say yes. I’m starting to feel comfortable like never before. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just time and I am ready to truly live and see what’s out there. I haven’t been out on a date in what seems like a lifetime. Phillip seems nice enough and he’s really good looking, with his short blond hair and light brown eyes. I know Val wouldn’t let anything happen to me. She knows Phillip, said he was harmless. I wait for the tendrils to grab hold of me and his voice to penetrate my thoughts. Silence.
“Great, um, why don’t I give you my cell and you can program your phone number in it?” he says questionably.
Phillip hands me his cell phone, and I quickly add my number to his contacts, afraid I’ll lose my nerve sooner rather than later. Phillip and I talk for a little while longer, exchanging pleasantries, when the lights start to dim, indicating Redemption is about to take the stage.
I make my way over to my girls, and Tracy is practically jumping out of her skin with excitement; she can barely contain herself. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was a teenage girl with an extreme case of idol-it-is—loving a famous person more than was necessary or normal.
A rainbow of lights starts to pan the arena while puffs of smoke make their way across the stage. The thumping of a bass drum echoes, reverberating inside my chest, then the crowd erupts in a frenzy as a lone guitar strikes its first chord. The lights flicker and finally illuminate the stage in a sea of various hues of red.
At center stage stands the lead singer, his head down, gripping the microphone. He opens his mouth, and the voice that oozes out of it sends a shiver down my spine. The screeching I heard earlier today is nowhere to be found. His voice is raw, deep, and raspy, its richness soothing. My ears are in love with his voice. I’m captivated as he begins to sing the first line of the song. My heart pounds in my chest, my breathing accelerates, and I am mesmerized. He continues to sing, and the grittiness of his voice ignites a fire inside me that can’t be contained.
I find myself standing, hollering, and surprising the shit out of Tracy and Val. Hell, I’m surprising myself. The lyrics permeate my brain and float around in my head, turning me to goo. His words of hurt and anger resonate in my soul. It’s as if what he’s singing, he’s feeling and has lived. My heart aches in my chest for him if there is any truth behind his words. I finally notice the two enormous Jumbotron-like TV screens on either side of the stage. The camera focuses on him, and he stares directly into the lens. His steel-blue eyes smolder and captivate me. I feel like I am under his spell.
It goes on like this through the entire concert. With each song he sings, I’m entranced by him, unable to break the chains that his voice and eyes bind me with. Finally the lights go out, the music stops, and I am no longer spellbound—a sense of loss fills me.
“Uh, Earth to Jules, Earth to Jules. You okay there? Val asks, snapping her fingers in front of my face.
“Uh, what, yeah, I’m just… I’m just…” I trail off, unable to find the words to finish the sentence.
“Oh, she’s got it bad. And you all thought I was the groupie,” Tracy chimes in.
“What, wait, what are you talking about?” I ask, my thoughts confused by her comment.
“Honey, wipe the drool off your chin. It doesn’t go with your outfit.” Tracy points a finger at my chin.
Instinctively I swipe the back of my hand across my chin. The two of them give me a look with raised eyebrows and laugh.
“All right, let’s go introduce Tracy to her ‘future,’ and Jules, you can meet the rock god you’ve been drooling over for the past hour. But please don’t embarrass me—especially you, little miss groupie,” Val says, leading the way to the door.
My legs feel like Jell-O, and I can barely walk. The feeling I’m experiencing is so foreign to me that I don’t know what to make of it. All I know is that I’m very exc
ited and extremely nervous to be meeting the man who I originally thought was a screecher, but have come to learn he is a very talented musician. My opinion certainly has changed, and I think I might have to add Redemption to my iPod. Think? No, I definitely am. First thing when I get home.
We make our way through the arena to an area that is heavily guarded. There is a swarm of women vying for the attention of a very large, muscular man with a Manchu mustache. Val grabs Tracy’s hand and Tracy grabs mine, and she pushes our way through the crowd and reaches the very large man that stands tall and firm at the entrance of what I assume will lead us backstage.
“Hello, ladies, can I help you?” the six-foot-five pile of muscle asks.
“Hi, I’m Valerie Winston. We have access backstage,” Val informs him in her PR firm voice, waving her backstage pass in front of him. I love it when she’s all business; it’s a totally different side of her.
A smaller man next to him checks his clipboard and signals for us to proceed. The other women start to protest, pushing forward, hard. Val pulls me and Tracy through, avoiding any physical interference. I begin to notice the butterflies are fluttering non-stop, and my palms get sweaty the closer we get. Great—just what I need.
We find Roland standing amongst amplifiers and other gear talking to some woman who could be a supermodel. She has long, strawberry blond hair and legs that go on for miles. You can’t help but notice them because she is barely wearing something that resembles a skirt, or is it a dress? Maybe a very longish shirt? As we approach, I catch the tail end of their conversation.
