Chapter 12 Birdie
Chapter twelve
Birdie
Wasn’t it just like Forrest Davies-Jones to come stalking into the one place I thought I’d be safe from his insufferable pretentious ass?
And there he was frowning at the different sizes of bowling balls in a way that made me want to throttle him.
“This isn’t going to work,” I hissed at him, flouncing past.
“You’re driving me insane, Birdie,” he choked out, and I gave Jerry a high-five.
"Nice spare,” the other man said.
Now did I really want Jerry as my sugar daddy? No, I wanted to make my own money. But I wasn’t about to tell Forrest that.
Looking like she would rather be literally anywhere else, Paige set her bowling ball down with a thud and watched with disdain as it rolled slowly down the lane.
“He is very jealous, isn’t he?” Jerry said with relish. “I would very much like to kiss you but I am, you might say, nervous about what The Maestro would do to me.”
“The Maestro and I are broken up,” I said. “And kissing me is not necessary for producing my album.”
“Oh, I’ll produce the hell out of that,” Jerry said, licking his lips. “With your voice? Easy sell. I can’t believe Forrest was leaving easy money on the table with that.”
“He’s an asshole.”
I felt two men’s eyes on me as I walked up to the lane, and only one of them was scorching my shorts and sending shivers of lusty rage up my spine.
Forrest’s sex appeal was still dangerous as hell. But I had resisted everything he’d thrown at me. Nothing so far had convinced me to give him a second chance.
However, the way he could even sit on a bowling lane bench? Legs splayed, that thick dick pressed against his jeans and his muscular arm draped against the back, the way even a casual stance signaled power and authority?
Yeah, I needed to go get some French fries or something.
As I left the counter with a basket full of savory Thai-seasoned fries, Phee Vanderhart sashayed right up to me, followed by her long-time understudy Joan, who was an aggressively blonde woman with big Chiclet teeth.
Now Phee had always been my singing idol as a kid. I wanted to be her. Drop-dead gorgeous and confident, with an immaculate perfect voice.
But after breaking up my wedding that fan energy was thoroughly gone.
“Done with Forrest already and trying to dump him off on me?” I asked.
“What happened wasn’t personal,” Phee said coolly. “We just have a lot of history.”
I shrugged.
“I wasn’t even alive for most of this history. I get it. No hard feelings.”
She didn’t expect that, and oh, it pissed her off.
“You know, he’ll always come back to me, Birdie.”
“Well,” I shrugged, gesturing to where Forrest had just slid a bowling ball down the lane, scattering the pins all over. How was the man randomly good at this? God, I loathed him.
“Go get him. You won’t hear any objections from me.”
Phee went slack-jawed for a moment, because apparently she’d been expecting me to beg her to relinquish him.
“Oh, please, Birdie. I know you’re madly in love with him.”
I took a step forward, right in her face, even though she was taller than me by about a foot.
“Take Forrest. Please run along with him. Keeps me from having to deal with him over here begging for a second chance.”
“He is not.”
“Isn’t he?”
Phee hesitated, indecisive, and Joan started, her face too-tight and pinched.
“It’s your fault Phee got fired from the show.”
I shrugged.
“Take it up with Forrest. If he’s so pussywhipped by you, then surely he’ll agree.”
Phee flushed angrily, and for the first time I saw the cracks in her elegant facade.
“You’re such a conniving little whore—"
Then I heard a cold voice from behind me.
“You’re both fucking fired now. And get out of Birdie’s face.”
“Me? I didn’t even do anything,” Joan whined.
“And Phee?” Forrest growled, putting an arm around my waist and dragging me back. “I would choose Birdie in any lifetime. Pausing the wedding was because I wanted to hear you beg. Not because I wanted to be with you or had any doubts about Birdie.”
Phee’s nostrils flared with rage, and she could hardly miss the possessive way Forrest was dragging me away like a caveman.
“Fine, you dirty old man! Enjoy your Phantom without a fucking Christine then!” she shrieked, and heads were turning all over now, people getting out their cameras to record, because of course everybody recognized Forrest.
“Oh, there’ll be a Christine all right,” he said.
“I’m casting Birdie.”
“You must be joking!” Joan gasped and Phee laughed derisively.
“And she’s going to be a massive success, so keep your bitter bitch ways away from her.”
I said nothing as Forrest pulled me further down the hallway and away from all the flashing cameras. Because what the hell.
I could not believe Forrest was this desperate to get back together that he was literally attempting to cast me in a dream role—that I knew perfectly well was for classical singers and nothing to do with my style of singing.
Such a cocky, arrogant bastard.
I pulled away and spun around to face my ex. He was breathing hard, his broad chest rising and falling.
“I’ll have to see if it fits in my schedule with my new producer.”
“Birdie, what are you doing? Please. I want to produce your album.”
He seemed genuinely hurt and confused as hell.
“Don’t you know the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else?”
“Birdie, get under me or or no one else.”
He was crowding me, that expensive-ass cologne invading my nostrils. I met him glare for glare, refusing to back up, feeling the heat and anger pulse between us as his cock dug into my belly.
I prodded my finger into his shirt, feeling heat through my skin.
“Back up, asshole.”
“Do you really want me to? I can practically taste your arousal, baby girl.”
“Yes, I do. This may shock you, but you can’t get out of this one with your dick, Forrest. It doesn’t matter what you can do in the bedroom. You left me at the fucking altar. For your ex-wife.”
He winced.
“And now you think you can come back and expect to get forgiveness. Well, you can’t.”
“Birdie.”
His hand was on my elbow, burning me up, sending waves of heat flowing through my body.
“Sing the lead. Sing Christine’s part.”
It was infuriating. Even though I knew perfectly well it wasn’t suited to my low, raspy singing voice, that had always been my dream role. I’d had the whole damn play memorized since I was a teenager.
And now Forrest was proposing to give it to me.
“In exchange for forgiving you, I assume? I will have to decline.”
“No. No strings attached.”
“There’s always goddamn strings attached with you.”
“I just want a chance to prove to you I’m committed to showcasing your voice. That I’m sorry for selfishly keeping it to myself. I should have been the one this whole time leading the way for you to be a superstar.”
My god, the man was persistent.
“This doesn’t mean you have a second chance,” I said. “But I’ll take the role.”