“So, he was able to help you?”
She nodded, lipstick brush in hand. “Just knowing he was there for me, in my corner. It helped.”
Rand grinned, stood beside her at the mirror and finger combed his hair. “So what happens in that corner now?”
“We rock Sydney.” She pouted at the mirror and tried to ignore his pointed look.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know that’s not what you meant, but what do you want me to say? You told me to get it together and to let Jake help me. He did, and here we are, ready to face seventy-five thousand screaming Sydney fans.”
Rand stepped back from the mirror, frowning. “You cannot be that evil, Rie.”
“He knew what he was getting into.”
“Pin me with those purple eyes and tell me you don’t feel something for Jake like what I feel for Harry?”
“Five minutes,” said Teflon outside the door. Then it burst open and Stu came in. “I just barfed,” he said, a look of surprise plastered on his face. “Shit, I’m nervous.”
Rand laughed and clapped Stu on the shoulder. “Must be a Sydney thing.” He looked back at Rielle, and she knew he was seeing through her. He grinned. “It’s gonna be a great show.”
In the backstage tunnel they passed the members of Problem Children coming off stage. They could hear the roar of the crowd as their own show’s opening music and video presentation began.
Rielle felt the sound vibrate through her body and hugged Rand, Stu and Roley who were first up on stage. The nausea had gone; what remained was an energy that made her feel weightless and all-powerful. She stood alone in the backstage area, feeling the music pound in her veins and visualising her entrance off the trapeze. Composed and steady, she waited for Bodge to clip her safety harness on. When she lifted her arms to give him access to the belt at her waist, it was Jake who snapped the harness in place.
Jake wanted to see her before she went on stage, but he didn’t want to break her concentration. He slid the safety harness into place and stepped away, just as Bodge would’ve done, without otherwise disturbing Rielle. There was no reason for her to know it wasn’t Bodge, but she snatched his hand and turned to face him, her head snapping up to look at him. What he saw made him blink in surprise, made his heart skip, but the look was gone in an instant as she re-focussed and the trapeze lifted her into the rigging.
He’d seen desire and something more. From anyone else he’d have called it love, but from Rielle? Jake shook his head as the roar from the stadium accompanied her entrance on stage and her voice lifted in song. Probably unfair to surprise her—unfair to interrupt her pre-performance routine. He hadn’t meant to do that, but that look—had it been one of irritation it would’ve made more sense, but that wasn’t annoyance in her eyes, in the lift of her lips, or in the way she grasped his hand.
He moved back to get out of the pathway of the stage support team and found himself standing beside Jonathan, who was drenched in sweat, shirtless, a towel around his neck, slugging from a bottle of water.
They watched as the show unfolded, from the opening number, through the initial patter with the audience that made the crowd scream their excitement and appreciation, and into the second song, where Rielle and Rand’s vocals came together in a exhilarating mix of soaring notes and passionate expression.
Two songs later, Rielle left the stage for her first costume change. Half blind from the stage lighting and now in relative darkness, she had Teflon at her side to guide her through the backstage area. Handing her an open water bottle, Tef steered her past Jonathan and Jake towards the offstage change area. When she drew level with Jake, she broke her stride, put her hand to the back of his head and pulled him in close for a quick, hot, sweaty kiss. Then she was gone, leaving him with a lip splitting grin. He wiped the red lipstick away.
Jonathan exploded. “I’m fucking amazed she chose you,” he yelled.
“What?” Jake shouted, the smile leaving his face. Through his earplugs, he’d heard aggression but not the words.
Jonathan turned to face him, spittle flying. “She’s a superstar. You’re a fucking roadie.”
Jonathan was hyped-up with adrenaline and resentment. Jake knew he should step back and let it go, but something in the tall singer’s sense of entitlement to a stronger claim on Rielle made anger curl in his muscles.
“Back the fuck off. She makes her own choices.”
Jonathan loomed over him. “Hah, you’re right.” He stabbed a finger at Jake’s chest. “When she’s finished playing with you she’ll choose someone who fits her talents better, like me, mate. So you hang on for all you’re worth Reedy ‘cause the come down is gonna to be fucking brutal.”
43. Balance of Power
Jesus Christ! Jonathan was right. Coming down after Rielle Mainline was going to be a white knuckle ride. Worse than anything Jake had been through with other relationships. Hell, he was still friends with most of the other girls he’d been involved with. Could he be friends with Rielle? Were they friends now?
In the last week, he’d somehow managed to forget the balance of power between them was so unequal. She was a superstar, and the world was interested in what she had for breakfast and he was just a roadie with a trade to fall back on. Next week she’d be in LA and he’d be working the phones looking for work.
Last night, having her so embedded in his world—far from the lights, the fashion and the craziness of rock stardom—had been like a dream come true. But in reality, what did they have in common, other than an all consuming lust and the tour schedule which was now in its last days?
So why was it that her kiss felt so much like the start of forever, when he should’ve known it was the beginning of the end?
Fuck, that Jonathan had been the one to remind him.