The Blue Room Vol. 5 (3 page)

Chapter 4

           
I
doze off again, and when I wake up, my body
and my mind are both empty: beautifully so. I've been deliriously spent by the
pleasure I've experienced: pleasure that has overflowed my entire body. I'm
exhausted. I'm dewy with sweat, with the smell of Terrence Blue and his musky
cologne, with the smell of my pleasure and our union on me. I can't move. My
arms feel like lead. My feet are bolted to the bed. My body is still tingling
from the way Terrence has made me feel.

            Nobody
else can make me feel like this, I think. Maybe Xander. But sex with Xander is
always mind-blowing in a different way: emotional, tender, passionate. Terrence
is always playful, flirtatious, his power over me and mine over him colliding
in ways that bring us both to the brink. With Xander, I am the beloved
girlfriend, the girl on his arm. But with Terrence, I'm somebody else: somebody
I don't recognize, but I'm learning to like. Half-woman, half-beast. And I
enjoy every second of it.

            I
sleep for a little while, and as I sleep I dream of the moments that have
passed: Terrence's tongue trailing my inner thigh, lapping between my legs,
exploring with his fingers the deepest and the darkest parts of me, making me
come again and again, my back arched in an ecstasy unlike any I have ever
known. It is the best feeling in the world, I think.

            But
then I wake up. And this time there is no Terrence to tease me, to torment me,
to tantalize me with his tongue. I am alone. And the bed feels so empty now. I
look over to the other side of the bed and see that the impression in it is
fresh: Terrence must have gone only a short while ago. Still, already, I miss
him.

            He's
left a note, handwritten, alongside a vase of flowers: beautiful fresh lilies,
white, delicately scented.

           
I'm
going away for a few days, my darling
, the note says.
Much as I don't
want to. Keep this bed warm for me for when I get back. I'm going to miss you
every second of the day.

           
I
murmur his name involuntarily.

            I
hate being without Terrence: especially here. For so long, Terrence was my only
ally in the labyrinthine world of the Blue Room, where every friend is a
potential foe, and vice versa. What am I going to do without Terrence here to
watch over me? How am I going to keep myself safe? After all, Roz and Rita's
killer is still on the loose. Could he be targeting me next?

            I
shake my head, trying not to think about the fears that grow inside of me.

            Luckily,
I discover that I have no bookings for today: clearly Mrs. Walters thought that
“Mr. O.” would have tired me out.

            She
was right. While thinking about my night with Terrence fills me anew with
arousal every time the image of his chiseled form crosses my mind, my body is
exhausted. I can't even
think
about having sex again for a while.

            A
short while, anyway, I smile to myself.

            So
I'm surprised when I hear a knock at my door.

            “Who
is it?” I tense up, as I always do when hearing the knocking of a stranger.
“What do you want?”

            “Calm
down,” the voice is exasperated. “It's just me.”

            “Ben?”

            “Let
me in!”

            It's
good to see Ben again. Ben, the bartender at the Blue Room, and a former (and
still part-time) Blue Boy, may not be Terrence, but he's at least someone I can
count on: as long as I refuse his offers of Valium and Prozac: pills that make
his life as a Blue boy easier, but, I learned the hard way when meeting Mr. X,
cloud your judgment.

            “Hey,”
I say. “What's up?”

            “Not
a lot,” says Ben. “I just wondered...if you want to go out tonight.” His eyes
are full of sadness, as they so often are. “Not...out...out – like the people
at this place would ever let us go somewhere they aren't watching. But just
downstairs to the Blue Room. I saw you don't have any bookings tonight. Neither
do I. And after the week I've had.” He rolls his eyes. “Let's just say my
clients aren't as charming as yours. The Never Knights are playing at the Blue
Room. I figure we could knock back a few drinks, cheer ourselves up. What do
you think, Staci?”

            “Poor
Ben...” I don't mean to say it out loud. “I wish you could just quit.” Life at
the Blue Room always seems to be making Ben miserable.

            “Oh,
Staci,” he sighs. “You really don't get it, do you?”

            “What?”

            “You
can't just quit the Blue Room. Nobody can. Once you're in, you're in for
life...”

            “But
my contract says...”

            “Screw
your contract, Staci. You've been here for months. Are you really that naïve?
Do you really think the Blue Room ever really lets anyone go? Knowing the
secrets you learn, seeing the faces of the world's most powerful men contorted
in ecstasy: your mind is a valuable commodity for these people. And they're
never going to let you out of their sight. Not ever. The most you can hope for
is to enjoy this gilded cage as long as you can. The free-flowing booze. The
drugs. The cavier. The Lanvin dresses and the pretty highlights in your hair.
Before you end up like Roz, or like...” his voice trails off.

            “Like
who, Ben?”

            He
shakes his head. “Never mind. I'm sorry. I shouldn't scare you. I've just had a
rough week, that's all.” He forces a smile. “You'll be okay, kiddo. You're
smart. Resourceful. You can make this place work for you. Maybe you'll do what
I never could. So, what do you say, Staci? Drink?”

            To
be honest, all I want to do is lie down in my room and hide from the world for
a little while. But Ben looks so miserable that I agree. After all, he's my
friend, and friendship is a rare thing to find in the world of the Blue Room.

            Ben
picks me up at eight. I have done the best I can to look presentable, although
I find myself less willing to spend time and effort on my appearance than I
used to be. Makeup, pretty dresses – I associate all that with being “on the
job.” A job I'd just as soon forget as often as possible. So I wear a nice pair
of jeans, a silk top, minimal makeup. I put my hair up in a pony-tail. I even
wear flats.

            As
soon as I walk into the Blue Room, I regret it.

            I'd
forgotten what an exclusive place this was. Women in sky-scraper-tall
Louboutins, Manolos, furs, the works. You can barely see some of their faces
under all that makeup. In the shadowy lighting you cannot make out the men, or
who they are, but I'd be willing to wager a small fortune that the captains of
industry are all here: famous businessmen, hedge fund guys, bankers, a famous
actor or two.

            Luckily,
at least one table looks like it's composed of humans, not overly made up pod
people. I take a few steps closer and realize that it's Never Knight – the only
other girl wearing jeans in this place – sitting with her band: Danny Blue,
Terrence Blue's devastatingly handsome half-brother, whose dark eyes and
brooding stare look so strange when compared to Terrence's cocky grins, the lanky
Steve, laughing with Neve at some joke, soulful Luc, who is looking into the
crowd like he's searching for something who isn't there, and blonde-haired,
angelic Kyle, who always looks like he's carrying so much pain in those blue
eyes of his.

            I've
met them before, back when I was just a cocktail waitress, but now I'm almost
embarrassed to approach them. Do they know what I really do for a living? Will
they judge me for the person I really am?

            I
stand still, next to Ben, trying to decide whether to say hi, wishing I could
at least look more confident than I felt.

            Luckily,
Neve doesn't give me the chance to turn back.

            “Staci!”
she waves. “Great to see you! Come over here!”

            “You
know her?” Ben looks at me in surprise.

            “Both
of you, come on! Have a drink with us!” Neve gives me a great big hug, smiling
all the while. It's easy to be intimidated by her – she's rock royalty, after
all, daughter of one legend and the frontwoman of another – but her genuine,
sweet manner makes it easy to be with her. “Staci, it's been ages! The guys
here are still talking about that time you sang for us – how come you never got
us that demo?”

            Murders,
prostitution, finding my missing best friend. The usual distractions.

            “I've
been busy,” I say sheepishly.

            “Well,
hurry up!” Neve laughs. “We're all waiting on you! Who's your friend?” She
gives me a little wink.

            “Oh,
no! This is Ben, my colleague.”

            Neve
scrunches up her face a little bit. “Right,” she smiles. “I remember you! You
make those great old fashioneds.”

            “You!”
Steve almost leaps to his feet. “The cocktail whisperer.”

            Ben's
a little shy. “I look different without the uniform.”

            “You
made the best sidecar I ever had.” Steve smiles. “Come on, let me get
you
a
drink for a change. You're going to have to tell me how you made that.”

            Steve
practically drags Ben up to the bar; Luc, Kyle, and Danny all follow them.

            “Good,”
Neve grins. “Gives us time for girl talk.” She nods at Ben. “Your boyfriend?”

            “Not
even a little,” I say. “Ben's more interested in a boyfriend of his own.”

            “Ah,”
she says. “I see.” She seems to have no idea what the Blue Room really is.
“Well, he's still great company – and a great bartender to boot! Can I get you
a drink? I'm staying off the sauce, myself – just honey and lemon for this sore
throat...” She sighs. “I've got no idea how I'm going to sing in an hour. I
feel like a frog's taken up permanent residence behind my tongue. But I hate to
cancel – I just know that witch Roni's going to use it as an excuse to mess
with the band...”

            “Roni?”

            At
the sound of Roni's name, my ears prick up.

            “Roni
Taylor?”

            “Roni
Taylor Blue,” says Never. She leans in and whispers. “But you didn't hear
anything bad about her from me. She's got way too much power in this town for
me to risk pissing her off more than I already have by dating her ex.”

            “You
mean her
stepson
!”

            “Roni
has a thing for all the Blue boys,” Neve sighs. “Including mine.”

           
And
mine.

           
“I
don't understand,” I say. “Doesn't Clarence have a problem with that?”

            “He
did,” says Neve. “He was about to divorce her when he got sick. But now he's in
this coma...the divorce can't go through. And Roni has power of attorney over
all Clarence's affairs. Which means, as long as he's in this coma, she's the
most powerful woman in Hollywood....” She breaks off, launching into a hacking
cough.

            “That
sounds bad....”

            “Ugh,
I don't know what to do. I'm losing my voice. But the show must go on...and we
can't play without a singer.”

            Then
she looks up at me, suddenly, and I see a strange gleam in her eye.

            “Unless...”

Chapter 5

            “
U
nless what?”

            I
don't like the look in Neve's eye. It's a shimmer of a glint: something that
seems to be hinting
I have an idea.
And if it's the idea that I think
she has, I'm definitely against it.

            “Uh...Neve?”

            She's
looking at me with a fixed, intense grin. Her smile twists a little in her
mouth.

            “Neve,
what are you talking about?”

            “It's
perfect...” she says, coughing up a bit more phlegm. “Oh, Staci, can't you
see?”

            “No...”
I start. “No no no no no.” My life is complicated enough right now without
adding more layers of details. I've given up on music – I've resigned myself to
that. My dreams of pop stardom, of a normal life pursuing my dreams, are over.
I can't get excited once again about the possibility of singing, only to get sucked
back into the Blue Room. It's like Ben said, I think. All my choices are over.
I don't have any way of getting out from underneath the Blue Room's thumb.

            “But
Staci
,” her voice is sweet and coaxing. I can definitely understand how
a girl like Never Knight has become rock's latest sweetheart. The girl could
convince fire not to burn. She's looking at me with her big, dark eyes: an
intense stare that makes me melt, just a little bit. “You're good. You're
really good. I heard you.”

            “I
can't.” I wish I could explain why. I wish I could explain that I'm not just
your average LA hopeful any longer. I'm a prostitute, a paid courtesan – a
whore.
I belong to the world of the shadows. I couldn't get out even if I want to.

            “Why
not? Come on, Staci – just for one show. You hear me hacking up my lungs, here.
You know that I'm not fit to sing. So please, it would be a huge favor.
Otherwise we'd have to cancel the show, and believe me, nothing would make Roni
Taylor happier than seeing an empty stage tonight.” She shudders. “Gosh, I hate
this place. I know Danny's a part-owner, so I shouldn't, but something about
this bar gives me the creeps.”

            I
look down in embarrassment, hoping she doesn't see my face flush the way it
does.

            “I
think it's Roni,” she says. “I feel Roni everywhere. I feel her presence here –
like she's a ghost or something. Spooky, huh?” she gives a little laugh. “Come
on,” she adds. “You don't like Roni either. I know that much. Don't you want to
get one over on her?”

            I
allow my mouth to twitch at the corners – just a little – in a smile.

            “What
song are you playing?”

            “Endless
Love.” Neve leans in. “Do you know the words?”

            “Of
course I know the words!” 'Endless Love' is one of my favorite songs out there.

            “Well
then.” Neve says. “Boys!”

            She
calls over the rest of the band before I can stop them.

            “Boys,
it's settled,” she says. “Staci's taking over for me tonight.”

            Danny
looks at me suspiciously, and for a moment I wonder
does he know? Does he
recognize me?

           
“Aww,
Neve – you're sick!” Kyle hovers over her like a concerned hummingbird. “Are
you going to be okay?”

            “I'll
be fine,” Neve says. “Now that I've found my temporary replacement.” She throws
her arms around me, giving me a tight hug. “Thanks so much, Stace. I owe you
one.” She kisses me smack on the cheek. “You'll do great, Stace. Knock 'em
dead. Just make sure they don't
completely
forget me, okay?”

            And
with that, Luc, Kyle, and Steve are dragging me up to the stage.

            For
a second, it's like one of those nightmares. I'm barely even dressed up, let
alone presentable to be onstage. And I'm about to sing a song I haven't even
heard in months.

           
I
really hope I remember the lyrics,
I think.

            But
once the drum-beats start up, a sensual pounding that announces the languid
velvety tone of the guitar, I feel a new kind of confidence stirring within my
bones. My heart starts to beat in time with the music: a unity of my body and
the wild melody that's surrounding me, wrapping itself around my skin, forcing
the voice out of me.

           
We've
known each other for a long, long while

            But
do I know you at all?

            I
know the way you look when you give me that smile

            I
know the way you look when you want me that way

            But
do I know the things that you and I don't say?

            Do
I know how you fall?

           
I'm
singing the words – actually singing them out loud – and my mind is reeling
from the unreality of it all, how strange it is.

            I,
Staci Atussi, am singing vocals for the Never Knights.

            And
the crowd is loving it.

            My
voice isn't like Neve's, I know that much. Hers is savage, raw. A rock voice:
right for belting. She gets the crowd going wild, screaming in ecstasy the way
they did for Stravinsky back when he wrote the
Firebird
, back when riots
broke out in the streets of Paris over how savage art could really be.

            But
my voice is different. Sweeter, maybe, if I'm being vain. Higher. And I find
myself making the song not an angry protestation against a mysterious boyfriend
with a habit of disappearing on her, but a loving request. Mr. X's face floats
in front of my eyes.

            I
think I love you. That's what I'm saying.

            But
I want to know you better.

            I
wish I knew how to know you better.

            I
wish I knew what was really going on...

            The
audience isn't screaming and clamoring the way they do for Neve. But they're
doing something else. Closing their eyes, leaning back their heads, listening.
Maybe they too are thinking of a lost love: somebody they cared for, somebody
they miss. Maybe they too are losing themselves to the strains of an endless
love

            After
I finish singing, I'm flushed, exhilarated. My cheeks are pink and my lips are
dark. Blood has been pumping through me.

           
This
is better than sex,
I think to myself, grinning.

            The
feeling is glorious. For the first time in a long time, I feel like myself
again. A girl with hopes, dreams, ambitions that go beyond the Blue Room. For
the first time, I feel like I have a place in the world: a space I've somehow
managed to carve out.

            Neve
comes bouncing up to me.

            “You've
done an incredible job!” she says. “How have you taken so long to get us your
demo?” She rubs my shoulder. “Listen, you have to keep this top secret, but the
Never Knights have been talking about getting a second female vocalist. This
band shouldn't just be me and a bunch of boys. Not for all our songs, but
there's a few I think would really benefit from having two different
complementing female voices. And a soprano voice like yours...” She gives me
her card. “We're going into the recording studio to mess around a little
tomorrow. Maybe you wanna come mess around with us?”

            I
look down at the card.

            I
know I should just throw it away: forget my chances, then and there. I should
just go back to the Blue Tower and prepare for my next client and stop wasting
time and effort on a dream that will never come to fruition. But somehow I know
I can't bear to give this dream up.

            “I'll
be there,” I say.   

            The
next day I find myself in a car with Neve and the rest of the Never Knights,
speeding towards the recording studio.

            “Okay,”
Neve laughs. “Don't freak out. This is going to be chill. Just a few of us
jamming, that all.” She sees my panic-stricken face. “Don't look so nervous,
Staci. Anyone would think you hated singing.”

            “No...”
I stammer. “I love it, actually...”

            That's
what's so hard. Loving singing that much. Knowing it can never really work out.
After all, if Neve knew what I really was, would she even be able to look me in
the face again? Sometimes I think I can't look myself in the face, either.

            “Hey,”
Luc is smiling shyly at me. His chocolate-brown eyes are enormous, luscious.
His lashes are long and dark. I can't resist smiling back. “Nice job last
night.”

            “Thanks,”
I say.

            “It's
nice to hear a different voice once in a while,” he says. “You have a really
sweet, poetic voice. Like an opera singer or something. I don't know.” He looks
down and blushes.

            “Come
on
, Luc,” Steve stretches out as we get into the studio. “Stop
flattering her and let's get to work.”

            We
spend the whole day playing. We sing some of the songs from the Never Knights
catalogue, some of the songs everyone already knows. We add a few folk tunes,
for diversity – adding a rock and roll spin to classics like “Man of Constant
Sorrow” and “Wayfaring Stranger.” I love the sound. I love singing these songs.
I've never been happier, I think. It's like a dream – the way going out with
Xander is like a dream. It's too good to be true. It's too good to be real.

            “You
don't write, do you, Staci?” Steve considers me. “Songs, I mean.”

            “Sometimes,”
I admit. “I like to write.”

            “Could
you play for us?”

            “Don't
be shy!” Neve cuts in. She hands me a guitar. “Show us what you got.”

            The
guitar feels so light in my lap. My fingers start to play, as if they're
playing of their own accord.

            I
sing a song I wrote for Rita, shortly after her disappearance. The words, the
melody, still brings tears to my eyes.

           
I
will never know where you went or where

            I
will never know why things are the way they are

            All
I need you to know I swear

            All
you need to know is no matter how far

            I
will find you,

            oh
my love.

            I
will find you

            Oh,
my strange, strange love

            Let
me find you

            Let
me take you home.

           
By
the time I finish playing, Neve and the boys have tears in their eyes too.

            “Wow...”
Neve whispers. “Staci, that's beautiful. Forget pop – your real talent is folk
singing. Singing like this. Singing with
meaning
.”

            “Get
us that demo, girl!” Steve almost shouts. “How have you deprived us of your
talents this long...”

            I
make up some excuse, I don't even know what.

            “Promise
us you'll get us a demo,” Steve insists. “Promise us you'll get us a demo soon.
We'll pay for the studio costs – if that's the issue...”

            “Come
on, Stace,” Neve wheedles me. “It's a great opportunity. What do you say?”

            At
last I relent.

            “I
promise,” I say.