“Look, I’m being serious when I say I’d like us to be friends. I don’t want all this animosity going back and forth. It’s not good for the show.”
“We’re not friends, Blake, get it into your head. But I agree with you about the show. You and Rose are in the past. I won’t bring it up again if you don’t,” I said firmly.
His blue eyes turned down at the edges, and he stared at me like I was the most naïve bastard he’d ever met. “But that’s just the thing — it’s not in the past,” he said, and I blinked.
“Say again?”
He looked away, as though agonising over what to do. I frowned, not liking wherever this was going. He brought his attention back to me.
“We’re not in the past. In fact, we were together just last week.”
All at once my fists tightened, my jaw clenched, and I gritted my teeth. Every ounce of animosity I’d felt for Blake over the past few weeks came rolling back. I was two seconds away from losing it. “Elaborate.”
“We’ve got history. Perhaps it was a moment of weakness, but she was lonely and she came to me. We fucked.”
That was it. The final push to make me snap. Red clouded my vision. I punched him. His head swung sharply to the side, his body jerking as my fist met his face. It was like having an out-of-body experience — my anger overtook all rational thought. Before I knew it, I was fisting his shirt, practically hauling him into the air.
“You’re lying,” I growled, barely even recognising my own voice. “You’re a fucking liar.”
“I’m not lying. It’s the truth. I’m trying to help you out here, m-mate,” he sputtered.
I punched him again and enunciated each word slowly, “I’m. Not. Your. Bloody. Mate.”
He groaned in pain and clutched his cheek. Red dripped down from where I’d hit him. I was vaguely aware that my knuckles were raw, but I was too overwrought to feel it. All of a sudden, Jacob was in my face and several cast members were dragging me away from Blake.
“Damon! What on earth do you think you’re doing?” the director wailed.
“He assaulted me. I’m calling the police,” Blake barked from somewhere in the background. I stared at Jacob blankly, my chest heaving with unspent rage, but I didn’t utter a single word.
“You’re not calling anyone. We’ll settle this like grown-ups. Now please, will one of you tell me what’s going on before I have a coronary. We’re three days from opening the show, and you’re attacking one of your costars.”
“He’s jealous because I fucked Rose,” Blake spat, and I barged forward, going for him again. It took three men to hold me back, but only because I let them. If I’d wanted to punch Blake a third time, I would have. But no, my anger was morphing, turning inward as I wondered if I was a fool. Had Rose been lying to me all this time? Had she still been in love with Blake and using me as an amusement?
“Rose,” Jacob tutted. “Your obsession with Iggy’s little assistant is getting out of hand.”
“It’s not an obsession, I….” Trailing off, I tried to calm myself down, but it was no use. I wanted to hit something again. Preferably Blake. Somewhere vulnerable. The very thought of him with his hands on her made my skin crawl. She was mine.
She was….
I needed a minute.
Striding past Jacob, who was still wittering on at me, I walked away from all of them, suspicion and doubt filling my head. My trust issues rose to the surface, and in that moment I wondered if I ever should have come out of my shell, if I ever should have given Rose a chance to break down my barriers.
If I should have just stayed alone and lonely on my island.
Twenty-Four.
*Rose*
Something was off. When I arrived back at the theatre after rushing across the city on an errand for Iggy, there was a weird atmosphere among the cast. Several people eyed me curiously, and I even got a few hostile glances here and there. Jesus, you’d swear I just stole all the macaroons from catering.
I didn’t get a chance to ponder it for long because Iggy pulled me aside, a beleaguered expression on his face that told me there was some kind of emergency.
“Alison’s broken her ankle, the clumsy mare. We’re a dancer down. I need you,” he said, and I nodded, comprehension dawning.
“Of course. I can stand in for her during rehearsals until you find a replacement.”
My boss sighed with relief. “You’re a life saver.”
“It’s no problem,” I told him, thinking that must’ve been the reason for the odd tension in the air. It didn’t explain the hostile looks, but then again, theatre folk could be strange at times.
Alison played Nini, and was one of the foremost dancers in the show. She also sang in the chorus and had a couple lines of dialogue, but I wasn’t too worried about that. I was no Damon, but I could hold a decent tune. Either way, it was going to be a nightmare finding someone to replace her on such short notice, but I was sure they’d manage somehow. About twenty minutes later I was in full costume, wearing a tight black skirt and corset, heels and a lacy shawl, my hair up in a bun.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” said Alicia spitefully as she passed me by.
I frowned, taken aback by her venomous tone. “Excuse me?”
She turned, wearing a long sequined dress. “I said you should be ashamed of yourself for what you did to Damon. The poor man is beside himself.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded and unable to fathom what the hell she was going on about. “Are you on something? Damon’s fine. I was with him just an hour ago.”
Alicia eyed me and pursed her lips. “Well, a lot can happen in an hour. While you were off doing whatever it is you do, Blake had the good grace to inform Damon of your tryst. Honestly, Rose, could you not be happy with one of them? You really had to have them both?”
My heart raced, emotions flooding me as panic settled in. Blake. I knew something seemed strange about him today. He’d said something to Damon, and he was lying his black little heart out.
“I haven’t been with Blake in months,” I said, but she was already gone, being called to the stage by Jacob. All of a sudden Iggy was at my side, ushering me forward as we took our places for “El Tango De Roxanne.” I was disoriented, confused, and perplexed as I looked all around, trying to find Damon. He had to know Blake was lying. After the wonderful, almost magical weekend we’d spent together, he had to know the purity in my heart, had to know that I’d never betray him like that.
Robert, the actor who played the Narcoleptic Argentinian, stood before me, ready for our dance. I knew the tango he and Alison performed during this number off by heart, but in the moment I was lost, could barely remember a simple two-step, I was so discombobulated.
The music started from the pit below the stage, the orchestra musicians playing the passionate tango as Robert said his lines, stamping his feet and striding around me with a fiery Latino temper. Iggy caught my eye from the side of the stage, mouthing furiously at me to dance.
I danced.
Some sort of emergency button went off inside me as my body moved on autopilot. Robert and I circled each other. He approached me and ran his hands down my torso. I was supposed to be the temptress, the harlot, the prostitute who sells her body, while he was the man obsessed with me. We acted out the emotions through our movements, and I was overly aware of art imitating life for a brief, fleeting second.
Passion.
Desire.
Jealousy.
Betrayal.
Anger.
Insanity.
Then Robert cast me aside, and several other male dancers surrounded me. I let them touch me, let them move me how they wanted, manipulating my body as the song continued.
And then I heard him.
Damon was singing.
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My throat constricted. My stomach twisted into knots.
I turned my head to see him striding onto the stage. He was all Christian, but his eyes were pur
e fire, every muscle in his body drawn tight, like a coiled spring about to snap. All at once I was more overwhelmed than ever before, because as he sang about another man’s eyes on my face, another man’s lips on my skin….
It was all too much. The lyrics were too potent, too apt for our current situation, and though there was no truth to whatever Blake had told him, Damon looked like he’d just suffered the worst betrayal of his life. Was he acting? We’d rehearsed this number countless times before, but it never felt so powerful as it did now.
A second later the stage was full, rows upon rows of cast members dancing as the song went on and on. I slunk off to the side, glancing at Robert because it was part of the scene direction. Still, every chance I got, my attention when to Damon. And each time I managed to catch his eye, he looked like he didn’t recognise me.
A lump lodged firmly in my gut and I wanted to be sick.
My heart started pounding, my body sweaty and my throat sore. I hated this limbo. I just wanted to go to him, but the scene wasn’t done yet. When it finally ended, Jacob rose from his seat to give us a standing ovation.
“Oh, my God, that was amazing! I had chills. Chills, I tell you! Rose, you were a little stiff, but that’s only to be expected. I know all this was thrust on you rather last minute, but I think you’ll make a perfect Nini. The part is yours if you want it.”
I stared at him, trying to discern what he was saying. This was the first time Jacob had spoken to me kindly since the whole drama with Damon and Alicia, insisting they pretend to be a couple. Then it finally hit me. He wanted me to be in the show. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
I was a behind-the-scenes girl. That was me. I created the dances, but I didn’t perform them, not for audiences, at any rate.
Still…there was a tiny, minuscule, hopeful part of me that rejoiced, a part that wanted to be on stage more than anything else. It was my stupid fear that held me back.
I was about to respond, tell him I couldn’t do it, when movement caught my eye and I saw Damon leaving the stage. Lots of chatter ensued, and Jacob seemed to interpret my silence as acceptance. I ran after Damon, calling his name, but he just kept on walking. Someone stepped in front of me, and I saw red when I realised it was Blake. Acting purely on instinct, I pushed harshly at his chest. He backed away by several feet, seeming edgy as he tugged on his hair.
“Look, Rosie, I can explain,” he said, placing his hands in front of him like he had nothing to hide. What a crock.
“Don’t call me Rosie! Who the hell do you think you are? How could you lie to Damon like that?”
“I’m going through a rough time at the moment, and I just, I saw you two together, you looked so happy and it pissed me off….”
“So you decided to ruin it? Do you need everyone to be just as miserable as you are? Is that it?”
“No, of course not, I just need you back. I need you. Please, Rosie, come back to me.”
I paused to catch my breath, so angry I could’ve smacked him. I asked myself a question in my head, Yard is to inch as quart is to…? Ounce. I found that logical reasoning was always a great way to stem my anger. And then, when I looked at Blake, and I mean really looked at him, I saw everything I’d been too furious to see before.
There was a welt on his right cheek, and his eyes were bloodshot. I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close to check his pupils. His eyes were almost completely black, the blue irises barely perceptible. He’d fallen off the wagon. Christ.
“You’re high,” I said.
“It was a moment of weakness. I’ll get back on track tomorrow, I promise. Just give me another chance.”
“For God’s sake, Blake, another chance from me isn’t what you need. What you need is to book yourself into a rehab facility.”
He touched my face, and I reared away from his hand like it was on fire. “You can be my rehab. I’ll lose myself in you, and then I’ll be better again.”
“You were using the entire time we were together, so we both know that’s bullshit. I’m giving you a week to get your shit together. If you can’t afford rehab, then you need to get into some kind of programme with meetings. If you don’t, then I’ll have no choice but to tell Jacob.”
He looked miserable after I said it, but there seemed to be an understanding there, too. He knew I was right. The soft part of my heart wanted to comfort him, because I couldn’t see someone suffer like Blake was suffering and not want to make them feel better, especially since there was a time when I’d had feelings for him. But no, he’d done something completely reprehensible and unnecessary, and he didn’t deserve my comfort. I had to go and find Damon before he decided he was done with me forever.
When I reached his dressing room, I had a moment of complete and utter panic, drowning in anxiety. My hand was shaking as I raised it to gently knock on the door. When I got no answer, I knocked again and was met with a vitriolic growl.
“Whoever it is, fuck off,” Damon shouted, and I heard something break inside the room. I couldn’t leave. I had to see him. Summoning all my courage, I opened the door to find him standing by the dresser, a number of things knocked to the floor in temper. He looked wretched.
“Damon,” I gasped.
At the sound of my voice he turned, his eyes dark with betrayal. “Get out!”
“Damon, he was lying. Blake was….”
“I don’t want to hear his name, and I can’t see you right now. Just…get out.”
“No,” I said, standing firm. “I’m not going anywhere. What he told you was a lie, and if you know me at all, then you should know that I would never betray you. What I feel for you is real. I have nothing to hide. And if you doubted me, even for a second, then you obviously don’t feel for me what I feel for you.”
At this he strode forward, his anger bubbling right below the surface. It made my heart pound, because I was terrified of seeing him unleash. My back hit the wall as he cornered me.
“Don’t fucking….” He trailed off, struggling for words. “You’re the one who…you’re the one….” His gaze was frantic, his breathing erratic and uneven.
“I didn’t do anything. All I see is you, Damon,” I whispered. “All I see is you.”
We stared at each other for the longest time, communicating with only our eyes.
I’m hurting.
You don’t have to.
But I am.
Some of the fight went out of him, his body slumping forward but still not touching mine. I braced myself against the wall, unsure of what he was going to do next. Our eyes stayed locked for who knew how long. It felt unnatural to see his beautiful brown eyes contorted with fury, to see his sensual, masculine lips drawn into a tight, angry line. I wanted to reach forward, smooth out all his tension, but I was too scared to move. Too terrified of breaking the moment.
At last he spoke. “I know he was lying,” he whispered. “I know.”
I startled in surprise at his confession. “Then why….”
“Because I doubted you, Rose. I doubted. I let all my issues take me prisoner, let them convince me you couldn’t be trusted, that I’d been a fool to let you in. That’s not right. I fucking hit him. I lost my shit when he said you slept together. That sort of anger is dangerous. I shouldn’t want to hurt someone like that, no matter the reason.”
“Oh, Damon,” I said sadly, reaching forward to touch his cheek, but he flinched away. It hurt, cut me deep to have him cringe from my touch like that.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
He shook his head. “No, it’s not you. It’s just…I’m feeling very raw right now. I need some space to sort my head out.”
Again, that hurt. I didn’t want to give him space. I wanted to take him in my arms and hug him close, kiss him until my lips were sore. The past hour had been the scariest of my life, and I just wanted it to be over. I wanted to reconnect with Damon, solidify the fact that we were together and none of Blake’s lies could change that.
I looked down, noticing his reddened
knuckles. He’d hit Blake. I couldn’t believe he’d hit him. I remembered the red welt on Blake’s cheek and knew it was true.
“Can I fix your hand? It’s looks painful.”
“No. I’ll do it.”
“Okay, I’ll…I’ll go, then,” I said, my words choked, on the verge of tears.
I took a step towards the door, but Damon let out a noise of frustration. He came towards me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders from behind. My heart did one hard beat in my chest. He hugged me so tight it knocked the air from my lungs. I gripped his hand, squeezed it, and a long moment of quiet elapsed. Nothing was said, but so much was understood. I heard a runner pass by out in the corridor, knocking on dressing room doors and calling everyone back to the stage for the second half of rehearsals. I twisted in Damon’s hold and looked up at him.
“Today’s been rough. Let’s just…let’s take the night and talk tomorrow,” I suggested, hoping he’d agree, hoping we were okay.
Some of the tension fled his body. He nodded, brought his lips to my forehead, gave me a tender kiss, and then I went.
***
That evening when I got home, I told Julian everything. He sat and listened to my woes, enfolding me his arms and reassuring me everything would be all right. When I’d gotten it all out, feeling exhausted and drained, I finally took a proper look at him and noticed he didn’t seem so great himself. There were grey bags under his eyes, and his hair looked dirty and dishevelled. I also noted that I hadn’t seen him go out to meet with a client in a while.
“What about you? How are you feeling?” I asked him softly.
He sighed, glanced away, and rubbed at one of his forearms. “I’m okay.”
“I take it you still haven’t heard from Alicia?”
He shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”
I gave him a sympathetic look. “She’s not the one for you, Julian. She doesn’t deserve you.”
He let out a sad little laugh. “You’re right, she doesn’t. I wouldn’t wish myself on my worst enemy.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Alicia’s a selfish woman. She has this obsession with finding a reliable, kind man who’ll take care of her. That’s why she’s been so obsessed with trying to get Damon, but she only wants him so she can use him. You don’t need a woman like that, Julian. You deserve someone kind, someone who’ll love you the way you need.”