Unstoppable (Fierce)

by Voight, Ginger

  “I’m just not loving the set,” I confessed. “People use my number to get refreshments or go to the bathroom, or even find their seat.”

  “Then you have to make them pay attention,” Terrell said. “The problem is that this was never your set. You need something edgier. You sound like you’re auditioning for a school play every time you sing these ballads.”

  I nodded. Thanks to my back, I couldn’t perform all of Shelby’s songs, so I had to improvise with the covers she used on the show. I was never crazy about Shelby’s set, but after singing them for weeks I had grown to hate them. I had wanted to suggest a few different songs, hell… even my songs… but I didn’t want to complicate the tour the way I had complicated the show. I had a hard enough time overcoming my diva reputation as it was. “Sure that won’t cause the band to revolt?” I asked with a teasing smile.

  He laughed. “I bet they could use the change as well. You think you’re bored!” He consulted the calendar on his phone. “Think you can be in Orlando by Sunday?” he asked. “That way we can practice one new song by next week?”

  I nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  He smiled. “Good girl.”

  When I headed off stage, I noticed that Shelby had been standing nearby, waiting for her turn to rehearse. Unfortunately, she had been close enough to hear the conversation. “You’re changing the set?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I stammered. “Just trying to get away from the slower songs. I want something with more of a challenge,” I tried to explain, but realized too late how it sounded.

  “I see,” she said as she crossed her arms in front of her.

  “Just one for now,” I clarified, but I knew it didn’t help. So I kept digging. “We’re just two different people. It’s OK that we’re two different artists. We shouldn’t be interchangeable.”

  “Sure,” she said, but I could tell she was still offended. Then she lowered the boom. “If you’re going to discard these songs anyway, I’d like incorporate them into my set.”

  “Of course,” I said instantly, and then she told me the one she wanted. It was the showstopper – the only one of the three that planted butts in the seat and made the audience pay attention to my performances.

  But it wasn’t as though I could tell her no. They were her songs, after all.

  The showstopper I gave her, but whatever.

  So I was starting from scratch. It wasn’t the first time.

  I retreated to my dressing room to scour through my thousand-song playlist for some ideas. I had jotted down about ten possibilities by the time Jace came knocking on the door. Despite how my heart leapt just looking into his handsome face, I could see by the hardened look in his eyes that he was livid.

  He shut the door behind him and turned to me with a cold, controlled voice. “Whatever has happened between the two of us, don’t take it out on Shelby.”

  In all this time he had said nothing to me, he had let our relationship go down in flames without a fight, and yet he was willing to stand there and defend Shelby? It immediately raised my hackles. “I haven’t taken out anything on Shelby,” I informed him coolly.

  “Oh really? Then maybe you can tell me why she’s in her dressing room, crying her eyes out, because you slammed her set as boring and unchallenging.”

  “I never said that,” I corrected. “I just told her that I didn’t want to do the ballads anymore. These weren’t my songs in the first place. Why should I have to sing them night after night just to spare her feelings?”

  “You were the one who took over the set,” he reminded. “You gave up your songs. Remember?”

  “And you know why,” I shot back.

  “No, Jordi. I don’t know why. I don’t know why you do half of the things you do.”

  After a brief stare down I had to look away. “This isn’t about us,” I said at last. “I’m the opening act for a rock concert and I’m putting everyone to sleep with slow love songs I never would have sung in the first place. She gets the better set, the better songs and the best song of her own set. Why am I the bad guy here?”

  “You really have no idea how inferior she feels to you, do you?”

  “Well, fucking ditto!” I exclaimed as I shot out of the chair. “In case you haven’t noticed, Jace, I’m the one going down in flames on this goddamn tour. The fans love Shelby. The crew loves Shelby. PING loves Shelby. She’s everyone’s little sweetheart. I’m the whale people feel compelled to harpoon. It’s on every website, it’s in every paper. She sings my song half as good as I do but everyone is willing to blow sunshine up her ass because she’s a size 2.”

  Jace was dumbfounded. “Wow. Are you even listening to yourself?”

  “Are you listening? Have you ever? You’re the big hero who can do no wrong. Fans fall at your feet whenever you look their direction. You don’t know what it’s like to hustle for every last crumb of affection, for acclaim… for credit. I’m torn every which way by everyone. And worst of all, you know how screwed I’ve been and how many hits I’ve taken. You’re the only one who does. And yet even you take up her mantle after letting me go without a fight.”

  I was in tears as I finished so I turned away. His fingers curled around my elbow and he turned me back. “How dare you say I never fought for you? I’m the only one that ever has.”

  “Then where are you now that I need you the most?” I cried.

  I lost myself in those incredible green eyes, eyes that scanned my face. A tear streaked down my cheek and teetered precariously on my chin. He gently captured it with his spare hand. “I’m right here,” he said.

  I fought a sob back as I pushed against his chest, but it was useless. He pulled me into his arms and he held me tight. His hard body felt like heaven against my own, but I had been burned one too many times before. I knew that happiness was a trap. No matter what happened in that embrace, he’d turn from me and he’d go back to the fair damsel in distress who needed him to be her big protector.

  He’s a dog with a new bone, evil Eddie whispered in my ear.

  I tried to pull away but Jace held me fast. “No, Jordi,” he said in a low, commanding voice. “You don’t get to run away. You don’t get to call the shots. You don’t get to make the rules.”

  “If I honestly thought that I could, then we’d be together,” I muttered into his shoulder. “No complications. No delays. Just us and nothing more.”

  He tipped my head to look at him. “Don’t you know that’s all I want?” he asked as his thumb brushed my dampened cheek. “You’re my heart.”

  My eyelids fluttered shut as his head descended toward mine. The minute his mouth closed over mine, a bolt of lightning shot through my entire body. Instantly I deepened the kiss, it was beyond me not to. I was his. I had been branded and claimed. There was no refusing him.

  His hands clutched me tighter as his tongue spiraled around mine, sinking deeper into my mouth until I groaned in my throat. I felt his body harden towards me, which normally made me feel sexy and beautiful.

  Now it reminded me of Eddie. I felt his cruel fingers digging into my flesh as he pried open my thighs to erase every single memory of Jace tattooed on my soul.

  With a violent shove that Jace was not expecting, I thrust him away and stumbled back toward the makeup chair, my back to him as I tried to shake my head free of any memory of my bastard of a husband.

  “Go to Shelby,” I muttered. “She needs you.”

  I waited for torturous moments as he stood behind me, struggling to catch his breath. I didn’t even look into the mirror. I knew if our eyes met, even for a second, he would be able to read so clearly that I had done the most heinous thing possible. I had allowed Eddie to defile the woman Jace had lovingly created, sculpted at the tips of masterful fingers.

  Now that woman was gone. The goddess had been toppled. I was nothing more than Medusa, hideous and ugly, ready to turn every man who might love her into stone.

  Finally I heard the door open and close. When I glanced back up
into the mirror, I was alone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Orlando, Florida

  March 18, 2012

  “Ozzy Osbourne?” Terrell asked with an arched eyebrow. “Are you kidding?”

  “It’s a rock concert,” I explained. “It needs a little oomph. What better way to open than with an iconic metal anthem? Besides, the guitar is the most challenging part and Randy already knows that. It won’t take any real time to polish.”

  I told him what I wanted to do, with the lighting and the costume, to really set the stage to grab the audience by the balls.

  “I think you’re the one that’s going off the rails,” he said as he shook his head. “But it would definitely catch the audience off guard,” he conceded. He produced a 90s hit from 4 Non Blondes. “Can’t go wrong with Linda Perry.” It had a nostalgic feel but it also gave me some room to show off my voice, complete with all the angst and drama my life at the moment warranted.

  “I actually kind of dig it,” I said. “Badassery by the decade.”

  “So who is your 21st century choice?” he asked. After a half-second we both looked at each other and said, “Pink,” in unison.

  She was the goddess of badassery. There could be no other.

  “We’ll do something upbeat,” I proposed. The band already knew one of her more thematic anthems that we had sung as a group on the show, so the choice was easy after that.

  By Wednesday, when everyone else got to Orlando, I had nearly perfected the set. It meant that I would be rehearsing when everyone else was doing the theme park circuit, but that was fine by me. Eddie had once again flown out to join us on tour, and I really didn’t feel like being his paper doll for the week.

  By Thursday, however, he was over being denied. He insisted that we join Shelby and Jace at a studio-themed amusement park, capped off with a fan Meet & Greet at the adjoining hotel that was designed to look just like an Eagles album cover.

  After the set drama in Boston, both Shelby and Jace had kept their distance. PING was having a field day with the rumors that inevitably leaked.

  SOURCES REPORT TENSIONS FLYING BACKSTAGE AT FIERCE TOUR!

  DUELING DIVAS SPAR OVER SONG SETS!

  Unfortunately they weren’t far wrong this time. Tensions were dragging everyone down, especially Shelby and me. Our performances fell so flat that critics slammed the Fierce part of tour and the show itself as nothing more than successfully hyped karaoke.

  Graham Baxter himself called me to find out what was going on after the last batch of mediocre reviews. It was his idea to do some positive PR appearances in Orlando. So even though I didn’t want to go park hopping with the sweethearts of Fierce, ultimately I had no choice.

  This was the story of my life.

  Though I was in no mood to fake camaraderie with my estranged colleagues, it turned out that we had precious little time to focus on each other. A security detail had been provided so we could enjoy the park, but fans were everywhere we looked. There was always one more photo to take, one more piece of memorabilia to sign.

  Thanks to this constant focus of attention, even Eddie had to play nice, which meant he had to limit himself to being a covert asshole. Not only did he continue to brag about how great our wedded bliss was with plenty of thinly veiled innuendo Jace wouldn’t be able to miss, Eddie still managed to pull off being a douche bag, but in that fake, “I’m only doing this because I care about you,” way. Whenever we all approached a new ride, he’d want to know if everyone could fit in the chairs and ride it. “Do you have a seat we can try out?” he’d ask the attendant. “I’d hate for anyone to be walked off the ride.”

  I ended up skipping most of the thrill rides because he made me so neurotic about the possibility of not fitting in the seats. I couldn’t even bring myself to test one out to be sure. I could just see the headlines.

  FIERCE DIVA TOO FAT TO RIDE?

  No doubt it would be accompanied by amateur footage shot from someone’s smart phone, detailing painfully my walk of shame off of a ride that couldn’t accommodate my big, fat ass. This would come complete with spectator snickering that would echo in my ears every time I even thought about riding a roller coaster for the rest of my life.

  So I let Jace, Shelby and Eddie have all the fun while I hung out with security detail. If anyone asked, I simply said I didn’t want to aggravate my back again, which, while a legitimate concern, was only partially true.

  Humiliation was far more intimidating to me than pain.

  Had I had one of Felix’s magical cookies, I might have braved them both. Instead my mood plummeted thanks to Eddie’s feigned concern and the fact that Jace was hovering over Shelby like a mother hen. He helped her on and off the rides, and if she grew tired he would fetch her a drink or insist we sit and take a break.

  Though my back was making me pay a dear price for all the unexpected activity, I never said one word to anyone. There was no point. Both Eddie and Jace were focused on the far more delicate and frail Shelby.

  She would reward Jace with a grateful smile, which communicated much more than any words they said. She trusted him. She needed him. And it was painfully obvious she was getting some kind of payoff from him, too.

  I didn’t ask what that was. I didn’t dare. I was much too afraid of the answer.

  I just counted the minutes I could get back to rehearsal.

  By the time we joined DIB for the fan M&G, I had a raging migraine. My left eye felt like it was being stabbed right out of my skull. I said very little, even when questions were directed at me.

  “Did you get the song list sorted out?” someone asked.

  I nodded. “All new songs this Friday,” was all I could manage.

  “We hear it’s a more exciting set. Can you give us any details?”

  I could feel Shelby’s aura shrink from two seats away. “You’ll just have to come see,” I said with what I hoped was a smile and not a grimace from the pain.

  We all shared a car back to the arena. As I stepped in behind Shelby, I noticed her T&L lacy tank top ride up her narrow waist. There, on her stomach, was a fading red line.

  I glanced over at Jace, who helped her into the car. He didn’t even look my way.

  Rehearsals ran late that night, mostly thanks to my set change. I had planned to do one song at a time, but since Shelby wanted back her showstopper, there was no way I was going to sing the other two duds any longer than I had to.

  By the time I finally felt comfortable with the changes, it was close to midnight. Eddie had already gone back to the hotel, which left me free to talk to either Shelby or Jace about the cut on her stomach, which I knew immediately to be a much bigger deal than a simple scratch.

  I knocked on the door of Jace’s dressing room. When he opened the door, he was wearing only his T&L jeans. The sight of his bare, tattooed chest left me speechless for a moment. “What is it, Jordi?” he asked, his voice laced with fatigue.

  “Can we talk?” I asked.

  He considered it for a long moment before he opened the door a few inches wider. I had to squeeze in between his hard body and the rigid door frame to enter his dressing room. He shut the door behind me before he sauntered over and sprawled out on the sofa in the dimly lit room. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

  I could barely look his direction. His body looked like a really hot welcome mat. Weeks ago, or months ago, I would have joined him on that sofa, as half-naked as he was. Now we were on completely different planets.

  “We need to talk about Shelby,” I said as I sat in the chair opposite the sofa.

  “No,” he decided as he sat up.

  “No?”

  “You and I can’t talk about Shelby. If you remember,” he added, his eyes landing on my mouth as he referred to our last encounter.

  “This is important,” I insisted. “She’s got a problem and she needs your help.” He raised no further objection so I forged on. “She used to cut herself, Jace. When she was younger. And I think she’s started ag
ain.”

  “She hasn’t started again,” he assured me. “It was one time. And she told me about it.”

  “What?”

  “In Boston,” he clarified. “Right before I came to talk to you,” he added with a pointed look.

  It took a nanosecond to process the information. “So that was why you were so angry?”

  “Does it matter?” he countered softly, challenging me in the same way I used to always challenge him.

  “Of course it matters,” I said. “I thought you were mad at me because… because…”

  “Because I loved her now instead of you?” he finished. “Yeah. I figured that was what you would think.”

  “So, you… don’t?” I probed.

  “I tried to show you how I felt, but that didn’t go so well.” He paused for a second and then said, “I guess now I know why.”

  My eyes fell.

  “You’re sleeping with him again, aren’t you, Jordi?”

  Not because I want to, I wanted to scream. I want to peel my skin from my bones every time he touches me. Instead all I could manage was my pat, “Does it matter?”

  His eyes were hurt, far more hurt than I remembered – and I had certainly hurt him plenty. “I guess it doesn’t,” he conceded in a strained voice. “After all, you wear his ring. Not mine.”

  “Jace,” I started, but he cut me off.

  “It’s my fault,” he said as he stood up and walked away from the sofa. “I knew better than to get involved but I did it anyway. I just wanted so desperately to believe. In love. In you. In something.” I watched through the mirror as he took his father’s wedding ring, safely hanging from the chain around his neck, into his hand. “I forgot that there are rules we all live by. We break those rules, we invite heartbreak. It’s inevitable.”

  I stood to face his reflection. “I never meant to hurt you, Jace. If you can believe in anything, please believe that.”

  He turned to face me. “You may not mean to hurt anyone, Jordi,” he said, “but how is it you still do?”