"Sure." I beam as widely as I can as I stride back to the middle of the stage, pretending that Ben didn't just request a private conversation in front of half of Greece and the rest of my bodyguards. That's how bothered he is about what he saw.
He might as well just have announced everything about last night in front of the whole of Steel 7.
I drop the stool near the front of the stage and perch on the edge, blinking as the spotlight zones in on me.
"I wrote this song when I felt like my life had been shattered. Sometimes, the only way to get through the tough times is to plow our pain into something beautiful."
The crowd cheers again, because who hasn't lived through pain in some way or another?
I begin to sing the words.
The chair will never know the shape of you again.
The bed will never feel your weight.
My heart will never heal because you're gone.
And I'm left to live on.
All I can do is hope that one day,
we'll meet,
in another place,
another time.
And I can tell you all the things I stored inside,
imagining that I will tell you in life,
what you mean to me.
Looking up for the first time since I began singing, I realize that the whole stadium is silent, craning to listen, holding phones high to record the words that up until now have been private to me. My throat tightens, but I continue, my voice rising, rending open my chest with the memories of my brother's face. I close my eyes again, dwelling in the song, then trying to pull myself out of the pain, finding solace in the memories from last night. Asher's touch, the weight of his body on mine; everything made me feel better, bigger, stronger.
And at the end, when I drop my head, allowing my long intricate braid to flop over the top, I know.
The only way that I'm going to get through this tour without being dragged back into the negative place that my life was in before I was discovered by Blueday is with men in my bed. Sex helps me forget my worries. I can work out my frustrations and find inner peace. I need a distraction. I need a Band-Aid for my emptiness.
I can fuck my pain away with seven men whose job it is to take care of me. Taking care of my body in public and private will be their mission.
Sandy's not the only girl who can have a harem of men at her disposal. And mine will keep it a secret because they have as much to lose as I do.
Ben can talk to me all he wants about what Asher and I did – the wrongness of it – but when he does, I'll show him just how right it felt.
I'll drag these men into my web, like a black widow spider. I'll eat them up, satisfying my hunger with their bodies, pushing down all the fears I have with their cocks.
I'll drown in their passion and be smothered by their weight.
And when this tour is done, and I can finally go home, I'll have to find a way to deal with everything that I've been burying for too long.
When the performance is over, I'm hurried backstage and to my dressing room, finding Mo, with his kind black eyes, standing guard. At least now, I can be confident that I'm not going to find anything funky in my room. The thought of that bloody underwear sends a shiver through my sweaty body.
"I need another shower," I announce, strutting into the bathroom and slamming the door, content to leave the six men out there to wallow in whatever conversation is going to happen in my absence. I don't switch on the shower immediately, though, choosing to press my ear against the door, straining to hear whatever I can. Almost immediately, Connor growls, "What the fuck was that out there?"
"Fuck."
I'm assuming it's Ben who swears. He must not have intended Connor to know about Asher and me. He must have been hoping to keep it a secret. I guess I should respect him for that. No one likes a snitch, especially among friends.
"Fuck, what?" I picture Connor's face screwed up and angry, covering the deep worry he has about what's going on with his crew.
"It's not my information to share," Ben says. "Can you just leave it?"
"If it's something that can negatively affect Steel 7 or Luna, then no, I can't leave it."
"I'm in a situation where I know something that I shouldn't know and sharing it just wouldn't be fair."
There's a pause, and my heart thuds against my ribs, waiting for Connor's reaction.
"For us to work as a group – as friends and work colleagues – we have to be honest about things. Keeping secrets risks our safety and security. You know this."