Unstoppable (Fierce) (27 page)

We all shared a car back to the arena. As I stepped in behind Shelby, I noticed her T&L lacy tank top ride up her narrow waist. There, on her stomach, was a fading red line.

I glanced over at Jace, who helped her into the car. He didn’t even look my way.

Rehearsals ran late that night, mostly thanks to my set change. I had planned to do one song at a time, but since Shelby wanted back her showstopper, there was no way I was going to sing the other two duds any longer than I had to.

By the time I finally felt comfortable with the changes, it was close to midnight. Eddie had already gone back to the hotel, which left me free to talk to either Shelby or Jace about the cut on her stomach, which I knew immediately to be a much bigger deal than a simple scratch.

I knocked on the door of
Jace’s dressing room. When he opened the door, he was wearing only his T&L jeans. The sight of his bare, tattooed chest left me speechless for a moment. “What is it, Jordi?” he asked, his voice laced with fatigue.

“Can we talk?” I asked.

He considered it for a long moment before he opened the door a few inches wider. I had to squeeze in between his hard body and the rigid door frame to enter his dressing room. He shut the door behind me before he sauntered over and sprawled out on the sofa in the dimly lit room. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

I could barely look his direction. His body looked like a really hot welcome mat. Weeks ago, or months ago, I would have joined him on that sofa, as half-naked as he was. Now we were
on completely different planets.

“We need to talk about Shelby,” I said as I sat in the chair opposite the sofa.

“No,” he decided as he sat up.

“No?”

“You and I can’t talk about Shelby. If you remember,” he added, his eyes landing on my mouth as he referred to our last encounter.

“This is important,” I insisted. “She’s got a problem and she needs your help.” He raised no further objection so I forged on. “She used to cut herself, Jace.
When she was younger. And I think she’s started again.”

“She hasn’t started again,” he assured me. “It was one time. And she told me about it.”

“What?”

“In Boston,” he clarified. “Right before I came to talk to you,” he added with a pointed look.

It took a nanosecond to process the information. “So that was why you were so angry?”

“Does
it matter?” he countered softly, challenging me in the same way I used to always challenge him.

“Of course it matters,” I said. “I thought you were mad at me because… because…”

“Because I loved her now instead of you?” he finished. “Yeah. I figured that was what you would think.”

“So, you… don’t?” I probed.

“I tried to show you how I felt, but that didn’t go so well.” He paused for a second and then said, “I guess now I know why.”

My eyes fell.

“You’re sleeping with him again, aren’t you, Jordi?”

Not because I want to
, I wanted to scream.
I want to peel my skin from my bones every time he touches me
. Instead all I could manage was my pat, “Does it matter?”

His eyes were hurt, far more hurt than I remembered – and I had certainly hurt him plenty. “I guess it doesn’t,” he conceded in a strained voice. “After all, you wear his ring. Not mine.”

“Jace,” I started, but he cut me off.

“It’s my fault,” he said as he stood up and walked away from the sofa. “I knew better than to ge
t involved but I did it anyway. I just wanted so desperately to believe. In love. In you. In something.” I watched through the mirror as he took his father’s wedding ring, safely hanging from the chain around his neck, into his hand. “I forgot that there are rules we all live by. We break those rules, we invite heartbreak. It’s inevitable.”

I stood to face his reflection. “I never meant to hurt you, Jace. If you can believe in anything, please believe that.”

He turned to face me. “You may not mean to hurt anyone, Jordi,” he said, “but how is it you still do?”

I held back the tears.
I deserved his anger. I had squandered every single good thing he’d ever given me the minute I let Eddie touch me. I couldn’t even ask to be forgiven. “This is what I warned you about a long time ago, Jace. I told you loving me came with a price.”

He nodded. “You did warn me,” he admitted softly. “I guess I should have listened.”

His words cut me to the core. This was every nightmare I had ever had coming true. The fight was gone. He had been burned enough by me. The only way he could save himself was to let it all go. When he walked over to the door of his dressing room and opened it, I knew it was my cue to leave.

I had no choice but to take it.

I brushed past his hard body, that very same body I had begun to consider part of my own. I could feel myself tearing away from him, like leaving a limb or two behind.

I definitely left my heart behind.

So I threw myself into the only thing I had left: the music. I ignored everything and everyone so that I could put the finishing touches on my new set. I wanted no comparisons between Shelby and me, so I chose songs that she couldn’t or wouldn’t sing. The minute those drums – and my angry vocal – announced my first song, I watched the audience whip around and stare at the stage in astonishment. Instead of milling around, bored and counting the seconds for the “real” stars to perform, people rushed to their seat to watch me sing, and it helped patch up the holes real relationships had left behind.

That first night with the new set, I knocked it out of the park. I knew I wouldn’t get much credit for it, given PING was ready to skewer anything I set out to do. I also knew that being great
came at a cost, that Shelby might react badly to it and cut herself again.

But I couldn’t worry about it.
She had her hero now, someone who would make sure she felt loved and accepted and perfect – the very same way he used to make me feel. All I had left was the music, and it had never let me down even if I had failed it plenty.

I sang the hell out of my songs and then I let everyone else close the show
as I retreated back to my tiny, somewhat safe, hotel room. I no longer participated in the encore, and I certainly didn’t hang around outside signing for fans. After all, none of them were chanting my name.

By the next morning PING delivered its verdict.

DIVA SHOWS OFF WITH SURPRISING NEW SET BEFORE DITCHING BAND AND IGNORING FANS.

IS JORDI HEMPHILL THUMBING HER NOSE AT THE PEOPLE WHO MADE HER
A STAR?

I couldn’t win.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Atlanta, Georgia

March 26, 2012

I separated myself further from the pack when I arrived that Monday in Atlanta. I came much earlier than my touring cohorts
. The corporate offices of Tempestuous were located in “Hotlanta” and my week was stacked deep with promotional appearances for my new “Fierce” line of clothing and accessories. Their designers had been working overtime, using my eclectic style from the show to launch a whole new line of clothes designed to make every “diva” over a size 12 feel like a rock star.

Iris
even flew in to help coordinate PR around the launch, which included mall appearances of my very own. She wanted me there a day early so that I could get pampered and primped… much like a show poodle.

Andy already warned me that her dear friend Iris was a fashion general, who would crack that whip to get me into chic shape
. I had a taste of this in New York, but I could tell that she was just getting started. She advised I just go with the flow and allow her to work her magic, which is precisely what I did. Her celebrity stylists were no Jorge, but by the time they were done I looked, and mostly felt, like a new person.

My cropped brown hair was darkened to accommodate broad, bright magenta highlights. The smoky, dramatic makeup helped me feel edgier and even somewhat sexy, though my days as
Jace’s sex queen had come to an abrupt end.

He had a new queen now, someone who was so far different from me that no one could
convince me that we were even from the same species.

I didn’t fit in. And I was tired of trying. I not only added yet another tattoo (a flaming microphone on my
calf) but also pierced my nose to get even further from Shelby’s wholesome, goody-goody girl-next-door image.

I wore clunky boots and sported chains
around my wrist, neck and waist. Tempestuous had crafted punk-inspired jewelry that featured handcuffs and skulls, which all served to further harden my image.

Surprisingly, Iris supported the entire overhaul. She fussed over me like a stage mom, never saying one word about how the new clothes were in a size larger than the clothes before. She flung a dozen outfits over her arm and made me model each one, until she was satisfied that I looked my absolute best.

If I didn’t, she would, in her genteel southern way, gently encourage me to try something else.

By Wednesday we were fast friends and I loved her like family. She reminded me, in fact, of my late Aunt Jackie, who had gone off to New York the minute she graduated high school. She got to live her dream before cancer claimed her at the tender age of 38.

I had just turned 16 that year, and was looking forward to a summer in the city. Instead they brought her body back to Oswen and buried her in the family plot.

Iris shone just as bright as my Aunt Jackie had. She had an ever-present smile that made everyone feel like they were in the presence of a friend. She wasn’t stingy with hugs or praise.
The irony was that this woman with no children of her own had better maternal instincts than my own mother.

I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me that she noticed faded bruises while I was trying on the new clothes, but her concern took me off guard.

“Where’d you get that, hon?” she asked as she pointed to the hint of green around my thigh.

I glanced down, remembering that afternoon in the limo
that awarded me those bruises. I blushed hotly and turned away before she could see the truth written all over my face. “Oh, that. It’s nothing. I get those all the time while I sleep. I think I must moonlight as a sumo wrestler.”

Her blue eyes narrowed. She didn’t buy it. “You should be kinder to yourself,” she said softly.

I shrugged. Little did she know this was not a time to be kind to myself.

This was a time to answer for all my sins.

The only reprieve I got was that Eddie had chosen not to join us in Atlanta, which surprised me given all the press I was getting. That meant I could do what I was getting paid to do, then run back to the hotel and hide behind the safety and privacy of four walls until the next day.

When the crew got in that Thursday, they were taken aback by my dramatic makeover, Shelby most of all. Our friendship had dried up since Boston, when she felt slighted by my comments about her set. I hadn’t really extended any
white flags to her in the meantime. I didn’t even stick around to watch her performances after she changed up her own set list.

It was clear she took all of
my behavior personally. So when I showed up at rehearsal looking so dramatically different, she took it to mean precisely the way I intended.

I was nothing like her. And I was through pretending.

Jace’s eyes swept over me, taking in the drastic changes, but he said nothing. His jaw clenched as my chin tipped defiantly. I was done making excuses, done trying to apologize. He had made his choice. Let him have it.

He brushed past me without a word.

It stretched the tension between us all to the breaking point, which of course PING celebrated with glee.

THE FIERCE TOUR THREATENS TO IMPLODE WITH BACKSTAGE HOSTILITIES!

By the time I stepped on stage, which had always been my refuge before, I felt like I was navigating a minefield. In every face in the crowd I saw the judgmental faces of my tormentors: Eddie, my mother, PING. I ended up blowing the lyrics of two of my songs, which meant my showstopper fell like a dud when it was supposed to be the one that got people on their feet.

I wanted to run back to the hotel, but Vanni was waiting for me in my dressing room. He stood from the makeup chair, walked toward where I stood in the doorway and pulled me into the room. He shut the door and locked it. “We’re done playing around,” he informed me as he practically dragged me to the couch. He plopped me on my butt and sat close enough to me I could see the golden flecks in his dark brown eyes. “What’s going on, Jordi?”

I shook my head and looked away, but he was quick to grasp my chin in his hand. “No running away this time,” he said softly.

In those dark eyes I felt stripped bare and vulnerable. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. “You wouldn’t understand,” I mumbled.

His eyebrow arched. “You think not?” He took my hands into his. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to never feel good enough? To always wait for that shoe to drop when things start to look good for once? To fail spectacularly because that’s what I feel I deserve?”