When the Hand of God rose above the pit, and the spotlight hit them, the crowd went ape. Jake released Rielle enough to allow her to sing the verse, but he kept her in his arms. And he concentrated on her. She was the centre of his new calm, the level horizon, the rational argument, the strength and reason that could beat his demon panic. Because she’d been doing that by herself since she was fourteen years old and she loved him.
When she stood, he stood with her, running his hands up her hips, over her ribs and coming to cup her breasts, pulling her back against his body and nuzzling her neck. The punters in the pit below them roared. Every man there wanted to be him and every woman Rielle.
How many times had she sung this song? How many times had she gone through this routine with Tef, Bunk and even Lizard? Not once had she reacted to their hands, been more aware of them than of her own breathing? But Jake knew he was making her feel him. She lost all sense of the performance and the crowd below and breathed into his hands, letting her head fall back against his arm and looking up at him.
She misplaced a word in the song, mumbled over it, then caught herself. He felt her chest expand under his hands as she sang the next line correctly, and in the beat between it and the next, he spun her around to face him. He had his legs planted wide apart making their height difference less obvious and he pulled her hips against his, arms around her waist.
If he looked out at the mosh pit he might not have made it through this, but when he looked at her, every wondrous, sexy, changeable and dangerous part of her, his paralysis was love not fear.
Under the intense heat of the spotlights, he felt her shiver and he threw back his head and howled her name.
He barely waited for her to sing the last word before he crushed her lips in a wet, open-mouthed kiss—bending her backwards, breathing his desire into her. When he straightened up and released her, he was aware of the swell of noise from the crowd and the look of wonder on her face. She leapt at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and they kissed again.
Poor Bodge wasn’t sure what to do for the second time that night. He should’ve had the cage moving before now, but because they were still standing—well he was—it was too dangerous. The crowd was going wild, and when the song ended Rand and Stu looked at each other for a clue on what to do next.
Rand said into his mic, “It’s in the Hand of God!” and the punters went crazy. Bodge reckoned half the stadium either had their tongue down someone’s throat or wished they did.
It wasn’t til Bodge came up the ladder to break them up that Jake really knew what day it was. If he didn’t let Rie go, she’d miss her cue. He could see Bodge looked kind of proud of him. It was very rock and roll.
That night Ice Queen played five encores. The final one being a new song Rand and Stu played impromptu, just for the hell of it. That made it three times in one night Bodge had to scramble. He had to send Tef, Liz and Bunk on stage to re-set gear. Not that punters cared if a few black shirts crawled around the set; all they cared about was not going home yet.
When the band took their last bows, Bodge sighed. He’d already said goodbye to Rielle when he fitted her mic and sound pack at the beginning of the show. He wasn’t ready when she came off stage and barrelled into his arms. She jumped and he caught her legs and she straddled his hips and looked him straight in the eye.
“You ever need work Bodge, you give us a call. As long as we’re touring there’ll be a job for you.” She kissed him on the cheek.
“Aw, Rie.” He was red to the tips of his ears. “I’m too old for shocks like this.”
She laughed and kissed him full on the lips and he almost dropped her in surprise. And when he let her down, and she disappeared backstage, Jake knew Bodge wouldn’t feel half as crappy about missing her as he already did.
He clapped Bodge on the shoulder. It was a really good tour.
45. Epic
The noise and activity backstage was frenetic; a mix of celebration and farewell and the business of packing up for the last time. Jake knew he’d have to wait for Rielle to say her goodbyes before he could claim her attention. Meanwhile he was getting plenty of attention himself, with various crew members giving him grinning thumbs ups and excited high-fives.
It wasn’t often road crew and talent got together, and it had never happened so spectacularly on anyone’s watch, so their thing had everyone buzzing. And that was on top of the fact Jake hadn’t freaked out in the Hand.
“What was that?” Glen laughed. “When did you suddenly get okay with heights?”
“I had a little therapy.” Jake, winced from a too hard thump on the back from a passing Bodge.
“So you lose the fear and get the girl. Epic, mate.”
It was both epic and well worth the time and money Jake had scraped together for every hastily scheduled, uncomfortable behavioural therapy session, with a line up of psychologists in every city they’d been in since Perth. Now he had practical techniques to use to control his acrophobia and he no longer thought he might die if he had to climb a ladder or stand on a balcony. But it wasn’t just the therapy, it was Rie. Against her fears, his were so insubstantial. Having her call him out on them so brutally was the kick he’d needed to get help and get past it.
But that didn’t mean he was entirely fearless.
Fear now took the form of a fairy-tiny, punch packing, physically sensational, wolf raised, guilt stuck, rock goddess. And Jake had no idea how he was meant to cope with his anxiety about being without a daily dose of her.
At least the full force of separation would wait another day. Rielle was making her way down the corridor towards him, hugging crew members, handing out gifts and throwing glances his way that could melt sinew.
By the time she reached him, Jake was a knot of scratchy desire, irritated by the process it would take to get her alone. Tonight Ron Teller was hosting a big tour end party at the Casino.
“Have a brain snap did you, Jake?” She stopped in front of him, laughter expanding her wet spandex-covered ribs. She shook her head. “How did you do that?”
He reached out for her. So little time left to have that privilege. “Slowly and with considerable expense.”
“Did you do it for me?”