Three Beating Hearts, page 25
“What is that supposed to mean?” I push myself away from the chair and take steps toward her.
“If I’d never gotten involved with you, I wouldn’t have ever gotten involved with him either, right?” Her chest rises and falls as she takes quick, uneven breaths. “I just stepped on to the court of whatever stupid game you two are playing. Now I don’t even know if the last few weeks were real or just him using me to get back at you.”
“They were real,” I say too quickly, closing the distance between us and placing my hands on her arms. “You were never a part of all this. Ames wasn’t using you. He fell for you.”
“How could you possibly know that?” she whispers, looking up at me with tear-filled eyes.
“Because I know how easy it is to fall for you. I know because I’ve been there.” She stares at me and her lips part, like she’s going to speak, but she doesn’t. It’s not an ‘I love you’, but it’s the closest I’ve ever come to one, and she knows it.
She steps backward and slides her arms out of my hands.
“I can’t do this.” She shakes her head and wipes under her eyes. “With you. With him. Is anyone honest anymore?” she yells, then stares at the ceiling and takes a few deep steadying breaths. “I’ve spent weeks…months…thinking Consistently Inconsistent’s problems were because of me, that you all started going downhill since I came along. But all this time while Cooper has been looking for new ideas and Xander and Blake have been struggling with lyrics, you stood by and said nothing while Ames got more and more famous by the day and wiped us of the charts by singing songs that you wrote!”
I’m quiet, by design, a closed-off person—never the center of attention, but this is a whole new kind of silence. There’s nothing to say. I can’t back out of this one, I can’t lie and I’m not ready to admit she’s right. I’ve spun a web of falsehoods that spans more than a decade, and it’s not that I’m fearful that Ames may have just damaged a part of it. It’s that I think this piece of information is the start of the storm that will wipe away the entire thing.
“How do you know about that?” I ask in a voice so small that it can’t even count as a whisper.
She stares at me for several seconds that seem like hours and reaches into her sweatshirt’s front pocket, then slowly removes a leather-bound book I haven’t seen since before Raya passed away.
“I found this in Ames’ bedroom,” she says, her voice no louder than my own. She steps forward and presses it into my chest. I place my fingers over hers, so both our hands are on the book, exactly where my defective heart beats, but she pulls away and leaves.
* * * *
The next morning, I’m halfhearted about the awards show. On one hand, they are always a good time. The guys get spruced up, usually in something very over-the-top and noteworthy. This time, the band is going classic black but with electric-green accessories. My favorite color. It matches the drum set I tour with. Getting dressed up is more my scene than theirs, so I get more excited about the red-carpet events than the guys do. They usually groan about it for days but enjoy themselves once they are there. On the other hand, Stasia is performing with Ames tonight, and though I’m fairly certain they’re only performing together and not still together together, having to watch them duet the love songs they’ve planned is going to be painful.
Before we are scheduled to arrive at the venue for our entrance, the band decides to meet in a parking lot adjacent to where the show will be held. We can see the red carpet, the abundant camera equipment set up and waiting, fans gathering at every inch of the area, awaiting the arrival of their favorite celebrities. We meet a few hundred feet across the way and the guys drink while we await our turn to enter. Tailgating for a big-name awards ceremony was originally Cooper’s idea. He believed it was the only way to get Xander to show up. He was right, and the tradition carried through. We do this nearly every time now. I get out of the limo that was sent to my apartment and step out into the parking lot.
It may be our best look yet. Xander wears black tux pants with a fluorescent green button-up shirt, unbuttoned, half tucked in. And though he’s kind of a mess, he’s a stylish one. He even has the lime-green sunglasses to match. Theo went the opposite track—a fierce white suit with a green shirt and black underneath. I kept it simple—black tux pants, green belt, green suspenders and tie, a black shirt and, just for kicks, a highlighter-green bandana tied the way I do it for shows, with my hair sticking out wildly from it. Blake went anything but simple. He’s wearing a full electric-green tux, with a black satin cummerbund and shiny black shoes. He too wears sunglasses, but his are black. He simultaneously looks like he had the outfit custom-designed but possibly also bought the entire ensemble for ten dollars or less at the local thrift.
The camera crews have found us already and are eating up the whole charade. Blake stands with his jacket held open, posing with his eyes peering over the rims of his glasses. He does a little twirl, and everyone laughs. Almost everyone—I still haven’t seen Stasia.
“You okay?” Cooper says as he joins me.
“Yeah.” It’s the simplest lie I tell.
“I know this is hard for you, watching Stasia perform with Ames. I’m sorry that it’s difficult, but it was a good choice. This is free publicity for us, too. I know you’re mad at me for that. I know how you feel about her. But I have a band to promote. I have a new singer to promote. This is good for us. It’s good for her.”
From the sound of it, he still thinks they’re still together, which means for now I can breathe, because it also means Stasia hasn’t told Cooper or anyone else about the notebook that Ames turned into a platinum-selling record.
“I know, Cooper. I’ve been in the business a long time. I can be accepting of it and not happy about it at the same time. Besides, she and I aren’t together, and that was my choice. So, in the end, it’s not you I’m mad at.”
He rests his hand against my shoulder and shakes his head.
“Why did you do that, anyway?”
I’m surprised for two reasons. One, he hardly ever wants to know about our love lives, and two, I figured he’d be thrilled that I chose to end it.
“That’s a loaded question.” I rub my fingers at the stubble I’ve allowed to grow in over the last few days. “It was just the right choice at the time—for both of us.”
A limo pulls up outside the venue. As soon as the car comes to a stop and the door opens, every person in attendance screams and claps. Of course they do. America’s current favorite celebrity couple sits just feet away from them. Their fan base has dubbed them ’Stames’, some weird combination of their first names, but the world doesn’t know that their given name is a thing of the past.
Ames steps out first, wearing deep black dress pants and only the vest portion of a tux, revealing his murals of tattoos that cover his arms, chest and abdomen.
He reaches into the limo and Stasia steps out with Ames’ assistance. The heels she wears are several inches tall. Her top is a short-cropped black suit jacket, completely open in the front. Though it covers the parts that cross the line from what can be shown on TV and what can’t, that’s essentially all that is covered. Her under-breast tattoo and the designs that run up both sides of her abdomen are on full display. She finds stability on the ground with Ames’ assistance and fixes her skirt, which is the same green we all wear, short in the front and long in the back. Stasia leans into Ames for a photo op. The crowd continues to cheer, and she waves at them with a large smile on her face. She sells it well, not shying away from him in any way. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’re still together.
Maybe they are. My heart sinks into my stomach.
“All right, boys, we’re up,” Cooper says. The guys down what remains of their drinks, and we walk across the street to where hundreds of people and flashing cameras wait for our grand entrance. We pose for a few pictures and stop to sign autographs for a few fans. Stasia joins us and we continue the photo ops.
“Nice of you to join us,” I say as she leans into me for a picture. “I thought you two weren’t together anymore,” I whisper as we smile for pictures.
“We aren’t, so what’s it to you?” she hisses under her breath so only I can hear it. It’s a fair point.
She breaks away from me as soon as she can and smiles and waves in a perfect performance.
“All right, boys—and girl—” Cooper claps his hands together and addresses us. “Have fun but not too much. We are contenders for Song of the Year in the Rock category and music video of the year. I’d like you all to be able to walk onto the stage under your own power should they call our names, you got it?” The band and I offer an agreeable nod. It’s nice to be up for two categories—but Save Me, Save You is up for three—and two out of three of them are in our categories. Stasia is already mad at me for playing a part in their record-topping songs, and if they beat us in any category, I fear what her reaction will be.
Everyone goes their own way to catch up with other friends and musicians, but as we part, I reach forward and grab Stasia’s wrist. She turns over her shoulder, and for the first time all night, I get a good look at her. Her eye makeup is shades of black and green with glitter, and her contact lenses match our motif. Even her hair has hints of lime among the striking white-blonde.
“Can we talk for a minute?”
She nods then walks to a quiet area at the side of the building. As we walk away, I turn back to see if anyone’s eyes are following us. There are thousands of people there, and it’s highly likely any move we make is filmed or pictured, but everyone seems to be mostly preoccupied with themselves and their own red-carpet moments. As Stasia turns the corner out of sight, I take one last look back and see Ames, his height leaving him towering over most other bystanders, and for a moment, I think we make eye contact, but he turns back to the camera flashing in his face and the hundreds of fans trying to get his attention.
I turn the corner and Stasia stands there, her arms crossed and head held high. She’s perfect, beautiful beyond measure and standing proud when the world is trying to break her. She doesn’t bend.
“You didn’t say anything to anyone about the book…about Ames’ album.” I put my hands in my pockets and stare at her. I’d love to be a strong enough man to admit this is one of those moments that I’m incredibly good at eye contact, but damn it, I can’t not look at her body.
“Is there a question in there?” She shakes her head and I shrug. “No, I didn’t. I still don’t know what’s going on with you, and I’m not sure you will ever tell me, but Ames made it pretty clear if I out him about the album, it won’t be his life I’m ruining.”
I run my hand through the top of my hair and let out an exaggerated sigh.
“You know what?” I raise my hands at my sides then let them fall in defeat. “Ruin it. Ruin my life.”
Her eyes perk up at this in a mixture of confusion, happiness, understanding and doubt.
“I don’t care anymore, Stasia. I have stories, and I have secrets. I mean, who doesn’t? But maybe it’s just time to face it all. Regardless of what Ames tries to do to me, whatever becomes of my life…all I know is that I want you in it. So do it. Tell all my secrets.”
Tears form in her eyes under her perfectly lined lids and false lashes.
“I don’t want to ruin your life, Dominic,” she says over a trembling bottom lip. “But I don’t want to ruin mine, either. I give you my heart, and you gave it back to me every damn time. So, this is it. If you want me, here I am. But I refuse to be a part of the secret. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. Do you understand?”
I nod too quickly, agreeing to any parameters she gives me, then move quickly to her, placing both my hands at each side of her face and lifting so her lips face mine. We kiss in a way that’s long overdue but worth the wait. The opening in her jacket and lack of anything underneath allows me to feel the heat of her skin against my fingers as I move my hands from her face to her body. I kiss her neck, and she dips her head back and whispers in my ear.
“Dom, stop,” she says through a light moan.
“I’m sorry.” I pull away from her. “I thought you wanted…”
“I do.” She wraps her hands in mine. “I do. It’s all I’ve wanted since I met you. But I’m performing tonight. I have to go get fitted for my mics and warm up.”
Her performance with Ames.
“Right,” I say, breathlessly, running both hands through my already messed up hair. “You’re going to be great.”
“I know,” she says with a wink. She adjusts her hair and clothes and walks past me, toward a venue where all eyes will be on her, and back into a world that thinks she belongs to Ames Gaherty.
Allowing a few minutes to pass so she and I aren’t seen leaving the side of the building at the same time, I follow when the coast is clear and head back to the front of the venue.
“What’s got you smiling?” Blake says as he joins me at the entrance and throws his arm around me.
“Nothing in particular. I just have a feeling it’s going to be a good night.”
“They’re all good nights, brother,” he says, ruffling up my hair more so than it already is. “Any night above ground is a good one.”
“Isn’t that the truth.”
We walk side by side into the room where our assigned seats are waiting. There’s chatter around the area and the stage is brilliantly decorated with large black-and-silver curtain made from a glitter that reflects the stage lights as they move and bounce around the room.
As we arrive to the table dedicated to Consistently Inconsistent, Ames pulls Stasia’s chair out for her and she takes it. He leans forward and kisses her on the forehead.
“Good luck tonight,” he says. “I’ll see you backstage in a bit.”
She nods and her eyes find mine in a quick ‘there and back again’ glance. My hands ball into fists involuntarily, and I clench my jaw.
As the awards ceremony proceeds, presenters tell stories and talk, attendees laugh and cry and, overall, the night goes on as normal as possible. The performers outdo themselves, each one better than the last. With so many live viewers from all over the world, these kinds of shows pull out all the stops. The stage is set in intricate ways, the lights and effects are top notch, no expense spared.
The male and female winners of last year’s Best New Artist category take the stage and start speaking. They talk about how one of the people about to take the stage was new to the scene, but taking the world by storm, and the other was a former fan favorite coming back out of the shadows to bask in his former light. My stomach turns. I know it’s a performance. I know it’s part of the job, but I can’t see them together even one more time. I don’t want to watch, but even more so than that, I know she doesn’t want to be around him any more than she has to, and I can’t protect her from this.
“For a performance like you’ve never seen before, please welcome to the stage,” the perky blonde host says, “Consistently Inconsistent’s Stasia, and Save Me, Save You’s Ames Gaherty.”
Everyone applauds as the room goes black. Three large screens are lowered over the curtains. The lights turn on as they take the stage, and just when the music usually would start, Ames adjusts his headset microphone and speaks.
“How are we all doing tonight?” His voice echoes through the area, and everyone hollers in response. “We have a very special performance planned for you.”
He walks toward Stasia and takes her hand. To anyone else, it seems like she smiles and goes along with it, but I can see it in her eyes. I know her better than them. This wasn’t part of the plan.
“This beautiful woman and I created something for you, and we’re going to play it for you in just a moment. But there’s something I need to say first.”
I lean forward in my chair and bounce my knee up and down in a nervous twitch. Stasia stares at him, frozen to the stage as he speaks.
“Stasia”—a large smile grows across his face—“I’m in love with you, and I want everyone here to know it. I want the world to know that our time spent together has been some of the best days of my life. And every word we are about to sing, I dedicate to you.”
The room oohs and awwws in unison. They all buy it.
“Is this kid fucking serious?” Blake says from the other side of the table. I watch as Stasia says nothing, but Ames smiles at her and I know that look. It’s not a genuine smile. It’s a malicious, victorious smile. What the hell is he doing?
Stasia smiles and stays in character, hugging Ames gently as the music starts. The screens behind them come to life. Ames opens with a powerful booming line, and the video behind him plays the music video from the original song he’s covering. Then, the music shifts, and Stasia sings her line, the screen behind her plays a segment of the music video from the original run of the song she belts out. Everyone starts cheering when they realize what they’re doing—they’ve created a mashup of popular eighties ballads, and as their chosen lyric changes, the screen behind them pays homage to the original artist and song.
It’s brilliant. They’re brilliant. She sells it. You’d never be able to tell she had a lot on her plate. She holds it so well. They continue their back and forth, singing together, apart, harmonizing and linking multiple songs I never would have thought to put together.
Ames takes over and stands at the front of the stage in a powerful bridge where he solos and turns a well-known, powerful ballad into a screaming, angry drum- and guitar-fueled metal style masterpiece that has everyone on their feet and clapping along. Stasia struts across the stage as he fades into the background. His contribution will be a tough act to follow, but I’m confident she’s about to bring the house down all on her own.
She starts her song choice in a strong, up-tempo version of a previously slow song and hits a high note that drops the jaws of most people in attendance. Each attendant remains captivated by the show they put on and continues to clap their hands and cheer. They are musicians. We all are. They have a deep appreciation for both the acts on stage and the classic, respected artist Ames and Stasia are honoring.
