Getting Real

Jake watched the rest of the show in a daze, lost in the mastery of the band’s performance, of Rand’s musicianship and Rielle’s thrilling vocals. It washed over him in a haze of light and heat, sound and emotion. He tried to collect himself so when he saw Rielle next, he’d be wearing a disguise of his own—a mask that didn’t show how sick the prospect of losing her made him feel.

When the stage plunged int

o darkness after the third encore, the band came off on a high. Rand’s entourage was going berserk, as though they’d had a hand in the triumph. They’d spilled out of the green room and met the band in the backstage tunnel giving Harry’s cameras another spectacle to shoot, and the Sydney-based journalists in attendance additional colour for their stories. Tonight the party would be radical.

All Rielle wanted was Jake. She didn’t care about the rest of the band, about the after-party, about being starving hungry and wringing wet. When she came off stage she was swamped by Rand’s mates, and their wives and girlfriends. She couldn’t see Jake. After a show, he always gave her time to herself before he came to her. But she didn’t want to wait—she wanted him right now. She had to extract herself from the flow of people streaming towards the green room to make it to her dressing room.

As she’d fought her way clear, laughing and promising to come and join the party, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She smiled. He’d found her.

“You were on fire tonight,” said the wrong J.

“Thank you.” She smiled up into Jonathan’s face, but didn’t slow her pace.

“Come party.” He closed his hand around her arm, stopping her.

“Later. I want to get changed.” She pulled against him. He was holding her too tightly, and she could tell he’d been drinking.

“Nah. Come on, you can do that after.” Jonathan stepped into her space, his other hand going to her hair.

She dropped her voice and her smile. “Let me go now.”

“Ah Rie, don’t be like that. I’ve missed you. Come party with me.”

“I’m only going to tell you one more time. Let me go.”

Jonathan laughed. The hand not holding her bicep was now caressing her face.

Rielle sighed. “Remember, you asked for this.” She brought the flat of her palm up sharp and hard under Jonathon’s nose.

He clutched his face, reeling backwards, blood spurting through his fingers. “Bitch—you broke my nose!”

“No I didn’t.” There’d been no crush of bone under her hand. “But it’ll feel like it. Go ice it and don’t ever grab me again.” She watched him stumble in the other direction, blood now on his white shirt, calling for ice and a towel and sending a couple of wardrobe assistants scattering to do his bidding.

Then she saw Jake. He was a good twenty metres away and there were a dozen people between them, but he’d obviously seen what went down. His handsome face was creased with mirth. He sent a roadie with a first aid kit scurrying off after Jonathan and he sprinted up the corridor to her. “You are a goddess.” He swept her into his arms. “I’ve wanted to do that to him since Perth.”

“I’m wet and I smell.” She tangled her hands at the back of Jake’s neck.

“Couldn’t care less.” He brought his face to hers, teasing her with a near-kiss.

She strained upward to meet his lips. “Can we get out of here?”

“You should go to the party, just for a few minutes.”

“Mmm, one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Give me ten minutes to change and come shower with me. I want to ravage you.”

“Ravage!”

“Got a problem with that?”

“Nope.”

In her dressing room, Jake flicked the lock and his shirt over his head. He sat to unlace his boots and stared at her while she undressed. Watching his eyes in the mirror she almost forgot what she was doing. He came to help, peeling her out of wet lycra, his hands doing things to excite her that seventy-five thousand screaming fans hadn’t achieved.

He had a way of touching her that made her skin sing notes she’d only ever heard in her mind. He chased a song all over her body, with feather light touches, stinging bites and soothing licks designed to make a chorus of his name. And he loved that, so she held it back, and he loved that too, and he showed her how much with his eyes and his lips and his own wordless articulations that rumbled in his chest and were breathed through her epidermis to start the process over again.