Getting Real

Tef coughed with a red face and a sour expression. “S’posed to cook ‘em first.”

“Argh, I’m outta here,” said Ceedee. “This is creepy!” She left the stage brushing moths from her arms and shaking them out of her hair.

And the Bogongs kept coming, fluttering in on their big brown papery wings and taking up residence on every lit surface, human or otherwise. They were all over Jake’s folder. All over him by the time he came out onto the stage.

Rielle was still at work. The moths didn’t bother her but they were all over the pole making it slippery under her hands. She used resin to improve her grip and went through the routine again under Bodge’s watchful eye, the moths flitting around her as she moved.

Jake watched openly now. As much as he was conflicted about Rielle, he loved to look at her. The pole routine was all about strength and athleticism; there was only a hint of strip club sexiness in the way she moved. She could spin, twirl and completely invert herself. She could float most of her body but for a hand, a foot or a hip hold away from the pole and appear to levitate. She made plank shapes and contorted herself into elegant knots, opening her legs into overhead splits and transitioning from one impossible looking shape to another, with an ease that belied the hours of practice she did to stay so sharp and strong.

Rielle worked through her routine with heart-stopping precision, all the while dripping with sweat and being attacked by hundred of moths which swooped and fluttered around her; some of them hovering above her, others touching down on her skin. They rested on her legs and arms, walked across her shoulders and nested in her hair.

Standing back, out of the direct light watching her, Jake was floored by the hot sting of desire that hit him, like a bite, like a burn, slamming up into his incomprehension about their disastrous lovemaking. How could she, so sinuously fluid when she worked, become so wooden and closed off when she was with him? It hurt his head to think about it. It hurt his pride to know it was just him that made her feel that way. That’s what she’d said, no one but him had made her feel that way.

Now the moths were reaching plague proportions. This was going to be a hitch for the gig. Tef wouldn’t be the only one coughing up wings tonight, every singer had a problem. Jake saw Rielle’s hand slip and stepped forward shoulder to shoulder with Bodge to catch her if she fell. She was wearing a harness so no real harm would come to her, but neither man was about to test that theory.

Bodge said, “Reedy.” He beat a cloud of moths off his shoulder.

Jake said, “Bodge.” They stood side by side, heads tipped up to face Rielle. Jake felt dizzy but not so much from vertigo. “We’re going to have trouble tonight.”

“That breeze is gonna come up and blow ‘em all away.”

Jake nodded, brushing a moth off his forehead, feeling them in his hair and against the back of his neck. “Let’s hope.” Had he really said he and Rielle were like moths earlier that day? Well, not like these moths—these moths were in ecstasy.

When Rielle came off the pole she stood on the stage floor stock still, arms open crucifix style in the light. She faced out into the empty stadium and let the moths settle all over her. They touched down on her, crawled on her, kissed her skin. They made rings on her fingers, and caressed her spine. They weighed down her eyelashes and capped her knees. They dusted her with their wings and tickled her with their crisp little legs and spidery antennae. Hundreds of moths invaded her body and made fluttering love to her in the light.

“Fuck me.” Bodge gulped. He stole the words from Jake’s dry mouth before he said, “House.” into his headset, bringing the stadium’s enormous flood lights on and chasing all the Bogongs away.

24. Push

Cherry was

a new nightclub, based on the concept of a Las Vegas pool party. It was a rooftop venue with a designer infinity pool and private cabanas flanking its edge, as well as a scattering of restaurants and bars. Smooth dance music played, and you could smell the illegal substance abuse in the air. Rielle hated the place at first sight of the glittering pool and the bikini-clad hostesses. But they were contracted to be here so she was stuck.

She’d rather be anywhere else but poolside at Cherry, but then she didn’t want to be at the hotel, in the city or the country either. She wanted to be back in LA at the very moment Rand looked like he’d found home.

She left Rand with Jake and went to the bar, where she signed a few autographs and posed for some pictures. With social media taken care of for the night, she got two Champagne Daisies and headed over to Harry who was watching Stu and Ceedee slow dance dangerously close to the edge of the pool.

She’d been ready to dislike Harry, the school nerd turned TV producer, but she’d seen the way her crew responded to her, how she’d won the trust of the band and the roadies, and the way Rand was when she was around. He floated, he never stopped humming bits of song, some recognisable, some of his own making. Rielle was anxious nothing burst his bubble, not yet anyway.

The way Harry looked at the drink told Rielle she thought it was bait.

Rielle threw out her first line, “You and Rand—you’re serious?”

“We’re having some fun.” Harry took a sip. “Hmm, this is lethal. I’m working—I need to watch it.”

Rielle shifted her glass from hand to hand. “You’d better play fair with him, because he’s a lost cause about you.” Not quite a hook, more of a sinker. Harry could pretend ignorance, but not if she was interested in an easy life.

“I know, Rielle. I know how he feels.”

“He’s the finest person in the world. He deserves to be treated with respect.” Rielle frowned, working herself up. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Rie, I understand. I get it. I wouldn’t deliberately hurt him anymore than I would kick a kitten. He’s important to me too.”

“Important?”

“He’s—I don’t know what to say. He’s incredible. I don’t understand how he managed to stay the same gorgeous, thoughtful boy he was. You had it so tough, you were both so young. He had more than enough reasons to turn out differently.”

Rielle nodded, relief unknotted her shoulders. Harry did get it. “Yeah, I’m the family screw up. He’s the saint. I’d rather die than see anything bad happen to him.”