Chapter 52 Tally
TALLY
Palms slick and throat dry, I walk through the backstage area. I feel Rust’s hand on my waist, grounding me as we reach the side stage. Roadies hustle through the practiced chaos, murmuring into headsets and walkie-talkies over instrumental country music.
The band’s warming up the crowd. Footage of wild horses plays on the LED video wall behind them and in the center of the stage stands a bedazzled mic, waiting for me.
A staff member gives me my guitar and in-ear monitor. Hidden in the twilight, it’s as if the world holds its breath. There’s a buzz in the air, a storm waiting to be unleashed.
Then the stage manager gives the signal.
The first step feels like walking off a cliff. Bright lights blind me. I’m floating, suspended in the moment. Then the roar of the crowd hits my chest like a surging wave, carrying me higher and higher.
My eyes adjust as I step up to the microphone.
I take in the sea of smiling faces and light-up wristbands glittering like stars. Some fans hold up sparkly handwritten signs, declaring their love for me.
Suddenly I can’t remember why I was nervous. I can’t believe I forgot who I am.
Because I love my fans.
Because I love music.
Because I’m Tally Fucking Creed and I own this stage.
“How are you tonight, LA?” I shout.
Applause thunders around me.
“I love your hair!” a woman shouts from the first row.
My belly flutters. “Thank you kindly. It’s an honor to kick off my tour in your beautiful city. But before we get started, I gotta apologize.”
I let the crowd settle before I continue.
“I owe everything to you. Y’all made my dream come true and without you, I wouldn’t be standing here today. Rescheduling my tour dates upset a lot of folks. I’m truly sorry. I’ve never canceled a show before, but I had a good reason to do so. Tonight, I want to share that reason with you.”
I glance at the side stage, meeting Rust’s eyes. He grins and I know what he’s thinking. How could an accidental murder lead to all of this?
Caleb steps next to Rust, putting a hand on his shoulder as he nods at me. He gives me a thumbs up and I assume that means he took care of the footage. Erin peeks out from behind the guys, mouthing “You got this!”
I turn to the audience. “Tonight, I’m putting an end to the abuse I have experienced at the hands of my talent manager, Rex Dalton.”
The crowd falls silent. The band stops playing. An enraged cry comes from off-stage as Rex rounds the corner like a bolt of greased lightning in a tacky silk suit and snakeskin boots. He dashes straight at me, thin lips pulled into a grimace.
My first instinct is to run, but I plant my feet and lift my chin.
This pathetic man has ruled my life for long enough. I won’t let him scare me off my stage. This is my moment of truth, my fight for freedom—and I got backup.
Before Rex can step onto the stage, Rust and Caleb catch him. They grab his arms, holding him back. Rex looks like a caricature. Spittle flies from his mouth as he shouts unintelligible words, his sallow skin turning beet red.
I speak into the mic. “Rex Dalton, the very man supposed to have my best interests at heart and support my career, built his empire on manipulation and blackmail. He forced me to change my looks into a woman I didn’t recognize, he had me drugged, humiliated, and even put out a hit on somebody close to me. ”
Murmurs rise as people exchange confused looks, recording me with their phones. In a few hours, these clips are gonna be everywhere on the internet and that’s exactly what I want.
I hold up a hand. “But I know these are serious allegations. So don’t take it from me. Take it from Rex Dalton’s friend and secret business partner, celebrity gossip expert Gideon Wolfe, better known as the infamous Night Wolfe.”
I step aside and Wolfe’s face appears on the video wall.
“My name is Gideon Wolfe, but I publish my work under the pseudonym Night Wolfe in the ‘Gossip Grove’ magazine. On this USB stick, you’ll find evidence of my identity as well as my affiliation with Rex Dalton.
Rex and I had a special arrangement which we both profited from, but recently, the weight of my conscience has become too heavy. ”
Sure, his conscience. More like the desire to save his own fucking skin. Now that the dust has settled, I’m pretty happy that Rust misunderstood my instructions and put the scumbag in the ground.
The video cuts before Wolfe continues.
“Rex would tip me off where to find his talents in compromising, dangerous situations or instruct me to fabricate them. While I made a profit from my pics and articles, he utilized my work as disciplinary actions for artists he judged rebellious. He also used my articles to cull singers who didn’t earn enough. ”
“Traitor!” Rex howls off-stage. “Wait until I get my hands around your scrawny neck, Gideon!”
Good luck with that, I think and smile.
Wolfe’s recording keeps playing. “On multiple occasions, Rex Dalton asked me to drug singers to create fake scandals, but he didn’t stop there.
Most recently, he asked me to kill a man by the name of Rustin McAllister, who he deemed a distraction to Tally Creed and a threat to his control over her. ”
Gasps filter through the crowd. Rex struggles and Caleb patronizingly pats his rage-reddened cheek.
The video skips to the end of Wolfe’s confession. “Knowing of Rex’s devious schemes, I have kept recordings of all our phone calls and copies of our correspondence via email and letter. Copies of that data can be found on this USB drive, too.”
The screen cuts to black.
“Tally, you ungrateful whore! I made you a star and this is how you repay me? You’re gonna regret crossing me!” Rex shouts. “You can’t hurt me! The Dalton is invincible!”
The crowd boos.
I step up to the mic, grinning. “Hmm, I think the police is gonna be real interested in that data. Actually, they’re already on the way. My friends called them. I hope you look good in orange cause you’ll be wearing it for a long, long time, Rex.”
Erin strolls along as Caleb drags Rex further into the void of the dark backstage area.
It’s done. It’s over.
I’m free.
Tears blur the faces of my cheering fans and I feel like I’m about to sprout wings.
They believe me. They’re on my side.
I anchor myself to the mic as I speak. “Thank you for listening to my story and accepting the real me, without the glitz and glam. I want to set an example for every girl and every woman who looks at herself in the mirror and only sees her flaws. Never forget that you’re beautiful, worthy, and perfect—exactly as you are. ”
Somebody shouts, “We love you, Tally!”
A stray tear trickles down my cheek. “I love all y’all, too.”
My disguise might be ruined for good, but I can always buy a few wigs and contacts if I wanna masquerade as a regular citizen. Should probably get some for Rust, too.
“And I haven’t been idle,” I add. “With my new look, I bring you new music. To express my gratitude, you’ll be the first to hear my favorite song from my next, unannounced album.”
I pluck the intro notes of ‘Love’s an Outlaw.’ The stage lights dim to a warm amber, and the audience goes into a frenzy, but I look at Rust.
The fame is worthless without him. Even my freedom means nothing without him.
He’s my missing piece.
And there he stands, looking at me with pride and adoration. He’s willing to let me take credit for this song, but this is not just my moment any longer.
It’s ours.
Our song.
“Have y’all ever fallen in love?” I ask the audience, holding eye contact with my ex-husband.
The crowd hollers.
“Have y’all ever met a person who makes your world go quiet when you’re drowning in chaos? Somebody who silences your doubts until all that’s left is the light in your heart. Somebody who loves you so loudly and fiercely it makes your soul sing.”
Rust shuffles his feet as he smiles bashfully.
“Well, I had that love when I was a girl. Losing him hurt like hell, but we found each other again. We’ve got a lot of missed time to make up for and it starts tonight, with this song we wrote together.
I know you’ll love him as much as I do. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to introduce Rustin McAllister! ”
Rust’s smile fades as a spotlight slides across the stage. He shakes his head emphatically, shoulders rounding.
I vow to spend every day making him believe in himself until he understands that he’s more than good enough. He’s a brilliant musician.
And he’s the perfect man for me.
Springing this on him is a lot to process, I get it. But if I’d asked him before the show, he would’ve turned me down. I also know he needs this nudge. He needs music in his life and he deserves to finally be acknowledged.
“Aw, I think he’s feeling a little shy,” I add, smiling.
“Rustin! Rustin! Rustin!” His name rises in a chant, boots stomping and hands clapping.
“That’s what I’m talking about, y’all!” Making a come-hither gesture, I join the chanting. “Rustin! Rustin!”
Rust’s eyes go wide. He sighs, then he laughs, throwing up his hands in playful defeat. A stagehand gives him an earpiece and he puts it in, straightening his backward cap. Dressed in his old jeans, a flannel with the sleeves torn off and a tank top underneath, he steps into the light.
And somehow, he looks like a superstar.
The crowd breaks out in eardrum-bursting excitement.
Rust approaches and covers the mic with his hand. Grinning, he leans in, his breath tickling my ear. “You planned this from the start, didn’t you?”
I wink. “Easier to ask for forgiveness than to get permission.”
He kisses my cheek and somebody whistles.
“You’re really somethin’ else, Trouble.”
“This is where you belong, Big Guy. On the stage.”
He blushes. “Thank you.”
“We save each other, right?”
“Tonight, tomorrow, and every day we live to see another sunrise.”
He takes the hand off the mic. I look at the crowd, but I feel him right there beside me, our shoulders brushing.
Two heartbeats. One microphone.
I strum the opening chord of the first verse and I feel weightless as I sing the first line. “Your hands still smell like smoke and pine, your lips still taste like borrowed time.”
Rust joins in on the harmony. His voice slides under mine, smooth and deep. “You came back like summer rain, washed the dust clean off my pain.”
The audience loses its mind. A woman in the first row faints and a security guard lifts her over the barrier, carrying her to safety.
To be honest, I get it. That’s the Rust effect.
His grin widens and I’m so happy I could burst. It’s good to see him get the recognition he deserves.
By the time we reach the second verse the band joins in. They’re professionals for a reason, easily picking up on the melody. Phones sway in rhythm with the song and some folks in the audience have already memorized the chorus, singing back at us.
During the interlude, Rust grabs my face and kisses me—with tongue. The crowd hollers and I giggle against his lips.
Everything is perfect.
I want this moment to last forever, but I know it doesn’t have to. Because this is just the beginning of the rest of our lives, together.
A life fueled by our love, our music—and the occasional crime for inspiration.