They were, in fact, quite vocal about it.
Since Jace never read his own press, he was blissfully ignorant of it all. I inhaled it like it was covered in whipped cream.
It was all I really could
gobble up, since I was back under Maggie’s wing. There were no opportunities to fill my self-loathing with cookies or soda, so I masochistically read anything and everything on Jace and me in cyberspace.
To say it was self-defeating was a bit of an understatement. There was a lot of commentary on Jace and me, and it had cast me as the villain in the scenario. Where he became more desirable, I ended up shouldering much of the blame for my failed marriage, Shelby’s heart attack and the troubles we had had on the tour.
He was a hero for hooking up with the likes of me, so clearly tainted and undesirable, where I was a man-eating home-wrecker of a home I never wanted in the first place. So my sales stagnated where Jace’s skyrocketed. Thanks to my fairy godmother, Iris Kimble, I still had a lucrative clothing endorsement with the plus-sized store Tempestuous, so my celebrity still had value. She even landed me a voiceover gig for an animated feature to be filmed in late summer. But I knew it was going to be an uphill climb. I was going to have to work my ass off to ensure I could make a name for myself as an artist outside of
Fierce
.
Every time I thought I had “made it” I ended up having to essentially start over from scratch
.
This made turning down my usual vices for comfort even more difficult. As I drove from Dr. Challis’s office on Wilshire toward the studios in Hollywood, I passed every single one of my favorite drive-thru temptations with great effort.
“
Tell me about Shane
.”
Can I order a double-double with an
extra-large order of fries and a chocolate milkshake first? Therapy with food service – now
that
was a million dollar idea.
Just thinking about Shane left me feeling dirty. I could feel his hand in my hair as he pushed my head toward his lap. I could feel the calloused fingers as they slid up my bare leg, under my nightgown. My skin crawled so much it was as if he was right next to me in the car. I could feel those eyes on me, watching me, daring me to fight him.
I shook my head from such thoughts as I pulled into the studio parking lot. I had other things to do. That was not my life anymore.
That Jordi Hemphill was no longer. Someone new and powerful had taken her place.
Right?
I slung my handbag over one of the chairs as I entered the control room. I had nearly finished my album, there was only one track left to record and it featured one of Graham’s other top-selling artists, Griffin Slade, as the accompanying musician.
Griffin was known to the world as an accomplished guitarist as well as a philanthropist and an activist, and likewise had the reputation of being one of the nicest guys in show business. He was a perfectionist who drove everyone as hard as he drove himself, but in the end no one had anything really negative to say about the man – even the litany of women who littered his past.
He was one horny humanitarian. He had been linked with every starlet from his home country of Australia to the streets of Hollywood and the Great White Way. Every event that he went to, every red carpet he graced, he was linked arm in arm with someone whose name invariably ended up on a Hot 100 list somewhere.
They were almost always as famous as he was. On rare occasions he would date an unknown who happened to win the Griffin Slade lottery for the night, but otherwise his world had been filled with those who understood the complexities of the celebrity life.
He hand-picked women who were equa
lly invested in the fame game; nobody more famous than he was, mind you… just those who were famous enough.
But all of them, every single one, had the model good looks to be on his arm. Whereas Andy Foster Carnevale or I had bucked the system and snagged our rock stars by fitting outside the norm, only the finest, grade-A celebutantes were good enough for Griffin.
One such starlet sat in the control room, one slender leg tucked under the other as she spun in one of the chairs, watching Griffin through the glass as he played his guitar for the opening solo.
She sipped on a tall iced coffee with a ton of whip cream on top.
I used to serve those drinks, and drink those drinks, way back when I was in complete denial how many calories were in the damn thing. Thanks to Maggie, I knew exactly how many calories were in them now. I had long since given up drinking away more than a quarter of my daily calorie limit on a coffee milkshake.
Where
this particular starlet put her extra calories was a mystery.
I gained weight just looking at the damn thing.
I watched Griffin as his nimble fingers caressed the strings. His dark hair was spiked and tinged blond at the tips, which made him appear even younger than his 35 years. He was lost in his own world, much like Yael or Randy would be when they played. He felt each note in his soul as he made love to the music. It was so intimate I almost had to look away, and did so the very second his brown eyes opened to find me staring at him.
He indicated I should join him in the studio, and I was quick to comply.
One simply didn’t keep Griffin Slade waiting.
He had a smile for me as I closed the soundproof door. “How’s it going?”
Even his speaking voice was melodic, and that Australian accent made it even more so. His eyes were also quite piercing as they looked into mine. It was so direct I looked away. I was still too raw from my afternoon with Dr. Challis, and some folks just made one feel naked.
Sadly, Griffin Slade was one of those people.
“Fine,” I said automatically. “Ready to do this thing?”
He flashed a flawless smile my direction. “Just waiting on you, love.”
The kinder he was, the more nervous I got, though I couldn’t quite figure out why. He was exotic and important, but he was still just a man. I was almost as famous as he was, certainly as infamous, so why did I feel like some nervous little backup singer all of a sudden?
I had sung with Vanni Carnevale, who was ten times more famous than Griffin, and
a hundred times more potent. Griffin was just some bloke in faded jeans and an old concert T-shirt who happened to play the guitar well.
Somehow or another, I had left my own sense of value at the door.
No more therapy on work days
, I promised myself.
“
Tell me about Shane
,” I heard Dr. Challis repeat in my ear.
They set up the background music as I put on my head phones to drown out the nagging, upsetting voices in my head. Instead I glanced down at the sheet music. It was a song that Jace and Vanni had helped me write, called “
I’m Not Sorry.”
“
I’m not sorry that I want you, I know down deep you want me too. Let the world spin off its axis, I don’t care. Open your heart and you’ll find me there. I’m not sorry for all these things that I do, I know I was made to do them for you
.”
When I wrote the song, it was my own little “fuck you” to anyone left who had boo to say about my being with Jace. I wasn’t sorry I was with him, and anyone expecting an apology was in for a long wait.
But Vanni and Jace wanted me to stretch outside my comfort level and make it more suggestive than I had ever intended. Now it was a sex anthem of how to seduce the person of your dreams. The minute I opened my mouth I felt like a complete fraud. Here I was asserting my own sexual desirability in front of a group full of beautiful strangers who were way more fuckable than I could ever hope to be.
It was especially uncomfortable after all those long-buried feelings of Shane were nearly pulled to the surface. The images I saw in my mind’s eye were not one of a loving, consensual relationship I was fortunate enough to share with Jace. Instead I was embarrassed
and even shamed by the brazen words, and more than once lost my place in the song.
Griffin stopped me after the third slip. “What’s up?” he asked as he grabbed the cigarette he had tucked behind one ear. He had a sleeve full of tattoos, along with letters on every finger. LIVE TRUE, they read.
It made me feel like an even bigger fraud. I just shook my head. “It’s nothing. Just not feeling well today, I guess.”
He nodded but I knew he didn’t buy it, which made it even more uncomfortable. He went for a smoke break as I tried to pull my shit together, but the damage was seemingly done. With all the feelings stirred up in therapy, I was a basket case. Worse, I couldn’t change the song mid-stream like I had grown used to doing. I had to muscle through it, no matter what.
After his ten minute hiatus, Griffin was back in the booth. He studied me openly as I struggled through the lyrics. I felt naked as I stood before him, even more so than I felt that afternoon at Dr. Challis’s.
And Jace wanted me to tour? How the hell was I going to sing this song live?
Fortunately for me, Jace popped in to see how I was doing that afternoon. He conferred with some of the techs before he finally entered the studio. The minute I got lost in those amazing green eyes, I was on another planet. It was just the shot of confidence I needed. Not only did I deliver the song, I was able to do so with a sultry, softer, womanly voice. It was no longer an inappropriate, unsettling song for a stranger. It was the seduction for my lover, the only person on the planet who knew me on every intimate level there was.
Jace Riga was the security blanket I wrapped around my soul.
The take was so flawless we were able to leave shortly after. It was almost a relief to watch Griffin put his arm around his lovely companion and lead her from the studio. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I was off-kilter the entire time we worked together. He was perfectly polite and helpful, but I got the distinct impression that he was counting the minutes he could be done with me and out the door with his morsel of the day.
I guess I couldn’t blame him. He had other priorities, evident by the look in his eyes when she snuggled under his arm as they headed for the door.
It made the sexy song I had tried to sing even more ridiculous. Had it not been for Jace arriving when he did, we might have been there all night. I walked right into Jace’s arms with a grateful smile. “You saved the whole day today, you know that?”
He grinned as he bent for a kiss. “Then I guess we’re even. Because you save every day for me,” he whispered against my lips. “Let’s go home.”
Home. That had become such a wonderful word the minute I moved into Jace’s new house in Hollywood. Thanks to the sell-out tour, the subsequent DVD and LP release, his endorsements (minus T&L) and some hot selling single tracks, Jace was able to afford the three bedroom, multi-level home tucked high in the hills he’d grown to love since we spent time in the
Fierce
mansion the year before.
The narrow roads wound around the darkening hills that led us to our expensive love shack, which had wraparound balconies for the upper two levels of the house. The second floor
featured a dramatic living room with a dark purple accent wall opposite two huge windows overlooking the city. The balcony stretched from one in to the other, with glass panels so you didn’t miss one square inch of the view.
Upstairs were the bedrooms, including the master I shared with Jace. The whole room was decorated in stark black and white, with an ornate headboard on the bed to match. It, too, had a private terrace along with a monstrous bathroom and decadent spa tub built for sharing.
The whole place made me feel like a rock star from the moment he first carried me over the threshold, ten days after we got back from our tour. We landed with a thud in the foyer, and christened the spot where we landed almost immediately.
We’d even hosted a dinner party to celebrate our homecoming and our
Fierce
successes, inviting most of the people who made our journey possible. There was Vanni, Andy and Renata, Graham and Maggie, my gubby Corey McGrath, producer Shannon and her husband Jake, along with some of our more local contestants like Lavender Snow and Pepper. Imogene and Alan, along with his long-time lover, Geoff, joined Jorge and his exotic love Dominique, rounding out our
Fierce
family reunion. With the second season in high gear, it was really our only opportunity to hang with this family we’d grown to love, while they were still completely ours to claim.
I kind of felt lonely without them all, especially Vanni. He’d been my older brother on the tour, with sage advice and a comforting hug whenever I needed them.
Now he was off to find another me, and another Jace.
It kind of made me sad, and I would have missed him if I had the time to think about it. Thankfully, I didn’t. Just finishing up my album was time-consuming enough, not to mention all the other crap I had piled onto my plate.
In our world one was only as valuable as the last hit, so there was never any real time to rest on one’s laurels. We were all just Sisyphus, rolling that boulder up the same old hill.
I flipped on the bright lights for our spacious kitchen. It was late, but we needed to eat. Normally I would have stopped at a fast food restaurant on the way home, but Maggie’s current challenge was to make everything from scratch. This meant eating more “real” foods than the processed junk that was easy to prepare but loaded with all sorts of preservatives that impeded my progress.