17. Pulling Back the Curtain
“Now, here’s a man worth singing for!”
Laughter rings around the dressing room, buzzing in my ears. I spent the last two days preparing for it, and yet, I still feel annoyance well up in me as I look into the faces of my teammates.
“Stop it,” I warn through gritted teeth. I cast a deadly gaze around, because all of the bastards are grinning at me in that same mocking way.
“Sorry,” Nelson, the goalie, mutters as he starts to haul his gear out of his locker. “Forgot you’d probably want your love story summarized in a song.”
Another titter runs through the room, and I resist the urge to crack my fist against the nearest wall. Pushing past the closest person, I make my way to my locker.
“When’s the album coming?” one of them hollers. Another wave of laughter.
Keep your head down, I order myself, knowing I’m seconds from exploding. Teasing is a normal routine among the Philly Titans. Hell, I joined the boys in torturing Alex when he announced he was quitting the team to get married. And he had taken it all with a good-natured spirit.
But then, Alex would find it easy to let the taunts wash over him. He was in love with the woman he was being teased about.
I, on the other hand . . .
“You know, she’s got a show tonight at the Filmore.”
“We could get tickets. She’ll be singing about their love, and since White isn’t going to tell us a damn thing about how they met . . .”
“We know how, Luke, don’t be dumb. Remember that interview? What I really want to figure out is how Blake got over his disdain for Strummer. He was always going on and on about how he couldn’t stand her.”
“Well, we know how that could have happened . . .”
My shoulders are aching with tension. I bury my head in my locker as heat spreads to my face, reminding myself that they’re just bantering. I knew what I was getting myself into, and I did it anyway.
Apart from the start of the preseason training, my sacrifice has been worth it. It has been three weeks since Faye’s interview, and a lot has changed since then. Her father has completely relinquished control over her career and finances, and she’s America’s sweetheart again. My jackass teammates are also right about one thing—she’s giving a show tonight, her first since she ran from the wedding.
The changes in her life affected the atmosphere back at the cabin. We are no longer suspended from the world, and Faye is no longer the runaway bride who depended on me for sustenance. She is back to being Faye Strummer, an international popstar.
So, it was a relief when training began, and I had to leave the cabin to return to the city. Faye went back to Brooklyn that same day and started to organize her move to Philly.
We haven’t spoken since then. And I cannot pretend that’s not one of the reasons for the rage boiling inside me.
“White’s so tight-lipped today. Any other day, he’d be going on about Faye and her?—”
“Alright, lay off him.” I hear Ken’s voice cut through the banter like piss through snow. “This is our first practice of the season, and the last thing we should be doing is talking about Blake’s romantic life.” He sounds as amused as the rest of them, but I force myself to hold on to a tiny hint of gratitude. At least he’s not on my case.
But five minutes later, the jabs return. The boys keep taunting me, all through a mediocre practice that seems to last forever. Hours later, I storm back into the dressing room, sweaty and cold and furious all at once. Luke comes up behind me as I start to strip off my hockey gear.
“So, you going to the show or what? Think you could get us free tickets? They’re all sold out.”
My fingers fold into fists. “Shut the fuck up.”
The locker room goes quiet. I’m aware of the fact that everyone is staring at us.
Luke looks partly amused and partly offended. “Hey, no need to get violent. We’re just playing.”
“Well, I’m fucking sick of it. Shut the hell up, or I?—”
I feel the firm pressure of Ken’s hand on my shoulder. “Maybe we should talk outside, you know? Why don’t you finish getting dressed?”
I change into a pair of sweatpants. The boys watch us silently as we leave and head for the car park. As the seconds tick by between us, I go from feeling righteous indignation to defiance, then I feel downright stupid.
“Thanks,” I mutter to Ken. I know he could have done more to help me, but I appreciate him for pulling me out of there before I did something that would blow the cover on my “relationship” with Faye.
Ken says nothing for a few more minutes, until we’re at the very edge of the parking lot. Then he turns to me. “Something you want to talk to me about?”
I stare at him. Ken’s the only friend I’ve got who’s still single—at least publicly. Lucky bastard.
“I’ve got nothing.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Come on, Blakey. First, you skip out on all our hangouts and say you’re having a better time holed up in that cabin of yours. Then you call me and ask me how to get back in the good graces of a girl you supposedly care nothing for. And now, you’re in the news because you’re somehow dating Faye Strummer. How the fuck does that happen without any of us knowing?”
My anger, so easily aroused today, is already brimming beneath the surface. “Are you saying what they’re doing is okay?”
“No,” Ken says emphatically. “But I’m saying I’m confused. We all are. You despised Faye Strummer. How the hell are you dating her? And why the hell are you this pissed off about it?”
I shove my fists into my pockets. Even though I’m still furious, I’m starting to understand my teammates.
I open my mouth to say something, but just then, a car pulls up in front of us. My mood plummets further as Alex sticks his head out of the driver’s window.
“Hey there.”
I’m relieved to see he’s not smiling. If there’s anyone who has the right to tease me to death about this, it’s Alex. Especially with what happened between him and my sister.
“I called him,” Ken explained. “Figured you needed breathing space after that hellish practice.”
I slip inside the car, fuming silently. I know an intervention when I see one. Still, I prefer the company of my friends over going back to my apartment and wondering if calling Faye will seem too desperate.
“You wanna answer my questions back there?” Ken says as Alex starts to drive out of the arena. “Why are you so uptight today? And why?—”
“I’m going to cut you short,” Alex says before I can utter a word. “Ken, I think you should know that Blake’s relationship with Faye is fake. Brit filled me in,” he adds, looking at me through the rearview mirror.
I’m torn between anger and relief. I don’t want Brit blabbing my secrets all over town, but I’m glad I don’t need to come out and say it myself.
“Oh my God,” Ken says, reality dawning on his face. “That’s why you’re so mad. But . . . why did you agree to this? Why did you kiss her?”
“Because she needed help,” Alex cuts in again, and I decide that I’m stuck on relief. “She was running from the wedding, and she bumped into Blake. He saved her. And now . . .”
“Now the guys are going to make fun of you forever.” Ken snickers.
“It’s not funny,” I spit at him.
“Oh, he finally speaks,” Alex drawls, glancing at me. “Still, you don’t need to be this mad. You’re helping out a friend and?—”
“Faye is far from a friend,” I say, thinking of how she went radio silent from the moment things started going alright for her again. “And if I knew I’d be getting daily calls asking me to grant an interview, I’d have thought twice about this.”
Or if I knew I’d never speak to Faye again, anyway.
“I get why this makes you mad,” Alex says in an appeasing tone. “A PR relationship is a lot to handle, particularly when it doesn’t benefit you in any way.”
Ken nods. “Look, she wanted her reputation back, and she got it. Her fans are not going to mind if she breaks up with you now. Maybe you could get her to release a statement telling her fans to chill out with you, maybe hinting that you broke up. She could release a few songs about heartbreak or something, you know, and let you off the hook.”
I pause, actually considering Ken’s suggestion. I never would have thought of it, but it seems like the most sensible thing I’ve heard in weeks. Faye no longer needs my help—that is quite obvious. I could tell her I want to break this off. Maybe she could get her manager to rope someone else into being her fake boyfriend, call it her exploration era or something like that.
But then again, the idea of Faye going out with some other miserly male and talking about their love life makes me want to punch the window.
“You think you can catch up with her before her show tonight?” Ken asks.
“Breaking up with her before the performance would be mean. Brit spent a lot of money and time getting tickets for Faye’s ‘Welcome to Philly’ show, and she’s going to be pissed if Faye is a weepy mess up there,” Alex complains.
The fact that my sister is coming to hear Faye sing doesn’t make it easier for me to make a decision.
“She’d know it’s not a real breakup,” Ken replies. “She’ll be fine. Also, she could use the show to tell her fans to back off.”
I’m still stuck on an image where some loser has his arm around Faye. It makes me want to vomit. On the other hand, though, that’s what’s going to happen any day now. Faye has told me herself, multiple times, that she loves romance. Whatever is between us isn’t going to change that. And the sooner I recuse myself from this mess, the better for all of us.
“You’re right,” I say, my voice tight. “Can you drop me at the Filmore?”
“Sure,” Alex says, in a too-chipper voice.
I sink back into the seat, only half sure that what I’m about to do is right.
Thirty minutes later, we’re pulling up to the venue. The letters that spell Faye’s name are glittering in red. Beside the name is a giant poster of her wearing a short sparkly dress and holding a guitar in a rockstar pose, strumming the instrument with her face in shadow. The tagline reads, ‘Welcome to Philly.’
A pit forms at the center of my stomach. For the first few days that Faye stayed with me, this is all I wanted—for her to get out of my life and get on with singing her sappy songs. But now, seeing that poster makes me want to go back to those days when it was just us in the cabin.
“Parking is hell to find out here,” Alex complains. Following his gaze, I see that he’s right. The whole place is packed with people and cars. It’s almost impossible for him to drive any closer.
“I know it came with horrible consequences for you, but I’m glad the world is back to loving her,” Ken says. “Kind of messed up what her dad did.”
Way to make me feel better.
“You don’t need to drive all the way to the entrance,” I tell Alex. “I can walk up.”
Alex squints at me. “You sure? There’s bound to be a spot a few blocks down.”
“Yes,” I say firmly. I’m a hundred percent sure that all I’ll want after seeing Faye is to be alone. “I’ll Uber home.”
Ken and Alex exchange glances before Alex concedes, “Alright then. We’ll see you later.”
I step out of the car, instantly feeling like a fish out of water. All around me are hundreds of people chattering excitedly, blown away by the prospect of seeing Faye in real life. There are men, women, young boys and girls. Like a whole tribe of people who are in love with her.
I can’t imagine what would make me stand out from the crowd.
It takes a full ten minutes to push closer to the entrance. Finally, I’m standing in front of a dozen security guards, all of them shoulder to shoulder, pushing back the crowd.
“Step back,” one of them orders before I can even get up the steps. “No one’s being admitted yet.”
Just as I’m about to open my mouth to say something, a girl lets out a loud squeal.
“It’s him! Blake White!”
A loud gasp runs through the crowd. Suddenly, I’m pushed side to side by the torrent of bodies pressing up against me, screaming questions about Faye. My brain goes from normal to buzzed in five seconds, and it’s all I can do to keep standing.
Dimly, I’m aware of someone walking past the security wall and making their way toward me. A firm hand closes on my arm and pulls me past the crowd clamoring around me, past the unsmiling guards, and into the building. I’m suddenly in a dark corridor to the side of the huge amphitheater, and a bespectacled man holding a clipboard is staring at me anxiously. He looks vaguely familiar.
“We didn’t know you were coming,” he cries, flipping the pages on his clipboard anxiously. “We don’t have you penciled in here at all. Does Kevin even know?
Digging in my brain, I finally recognize him as one of Kevin’s assistants.
“I wasn’t supposed to be here.”
“Oh,” he says, suddenly relaxing. “So, what? You want to wish Faye luck before the big event? The paps will go crazy if they see you guys together onstage. Also, you really should have informed us you were coming. The fans are very nice, but sometimes they can get too eager. Might tear you apart, you know. Also, we could have prepared a more . . . fitting . . . outfit for you.” He eyes my sweatpants dubiously.
His speech is two seconds from driving me insane. “I’m just here to see Faye. No public appearances. Take me to her, will you?”
He swallows, looking offended. But then he turns and walks away, gesturing for me to follow. He leads me through several dark hallways, some of which feature the poster of Faye I saw outside. With every step I take, the pit in my stomach grows even larger.
This is the right decision. My head knows it, and my feelings will catch up eventually. Even if my friends had not mentioned it, I’d have come to it sooner or later. Outside of the tiny little cabin, Faye Strummer is too big to fit into my world.
I have to let her go.
“Here we are,” the man whispers. He pushes aside a black velvety curtain in front of us, exposing a door. He knocks gently on it and slips in.
I follow him, the dazzling lights in the room blinding me instantly. There’s about a dozen light sources in here, and almost as many people—women poring over a couple of dress stands, three other men examining a fleet of shoes, and some people stashed off to the side, writing on clipboards. In the center of it all, in front of a huge mirror rimmed with light bulbs, Faye is getting her hair and makeup done by two stylists.
I stare at her. Her hair is smooth and curled at the ends, her face is half made-up, and she’s wearing a sparkly short jumpsuit similar to the one on the poster.
She looks like a stranger.
“I’ve got a surprise for you!” the man next to me squeals, startling me. Everyone turns toward us, and another gasp runs through the room.
I’m getting tired of the gasps.
Faye is staring at me, her face white as a ghost. I’m suddenly aware of the fact that everyone here thinks that we are dating, and I should be doing something like strolling up to her and kissing her on the cheek. Maybe I should have brought flowers.
But then, I’m about sick of pretending.
“Can we have the room?” she calls, sounding perkier than I remember. Her team files out silently.
The door shuts behind the last of them, and an awkward silence reigns between us. Faye struggles to her feet as some color returns to her face.
“Blake,” she whispers. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
I can’t tell if she’s pleased or just thrown off. It shouldn’t matter to me, anyway.
“Yeah, I just came from practice. Congratulations on your show.”
“Thanks.” She gives me a feeble smile. “It’s all because of you, though, the fact that I was able to come back so quickly. So really, thanks.”
I officially hate this conversation. Is this how it’s always felt between us, this stilted? Because even while we were strangers, I recall being able to actually talk to her.
“So . . .” Faye shifts her weight from one foot to the other, reminding me dimly of the girl that stayed in my cabin. “Why are you here?”
She’s definitely just thrown off.
“We need to talk,” I say.
She nods, crossing the room so she stands right in front of me. “Okay. Do you think it’ll be a long conversation?”
A wall of resentment rises up in me. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt you preparing for your show.”
Her eyes fill with confusion. “No, that’s not it. I just wanted to know if we needed to sit down.”
Her explanation is perfectly reasonable, and I nod.
“It’ll be pretty short, I think,” I say. “I can’t fucking do this.”
She blinks. “Do . . . what?”
“Pretend to be in a relationship with you when we’re not even speaking.”
Damn. Hadn’t meant to say that last part. Now I just sound like a desperate fool.
Faye looks confused. “What are you talking about? We’re speaking, Blake. We’re speaking right now.”
Anger forces me further down the desperate path. “You know what I mean. We haven’t spoken in days. And . . .”
Faye’s eyes grow wide with more confusion. “Because I’ve been organizing my move and preparing for this show, and that has taken all my time. Also, I thought you didn’t want to speak to me. You haven’t said a word since the interview, and I thought you wanted your space.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I realize I’ve got nothing to say. Again, it sounds perfectly reasonable.
Hurt sparkles in her eyes. “So, you were going to come in here and break up with me just before I go on stage?”
I’m not used to standing in one spot and feeling like the biggest asshole-idiot in the world, so I have absolutely no idea what to do.
Faye doesn’t wait for my response. “You know what? Fine. We can call it off. I’ll get with Kevin, and we’ll figure out how to announce it.”
How is it that the plan, which was completely rational back in the car, now seems like the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life?
“Thanks for your help so far,” Faye says, already turning away.
But I hold on to her wrist, pulling her roughly toward me. Faye gasps as I wrap my arms around her.
This, I realize, is what I’ve been missing. This is the reason why I’ve been so on edge lately. It’s not because of the media’s frequent calls, my teammates’ taunts, or even the confusion I have to endure.
I would go through all of that again, hell, even more, if it means I get to end the day with her in my arms.
“I’m a jackass,” I breathe into the smooth skin of her neck. I’ve never been one for apologies, but it feels like the easiest thing to do when she’s this close. Almost as easy as admitting my real feelings. “Not seeing you has driven me up the wall.”
I can hear Faye breathing harshly, probably trying to let go of her hurt. Or maybe she’s reacting to my hard on pressed up against her stomach.
“I get it,” she mutters.
Her agreeing with me is everything I need right now. She doesn’t even need to tell me that she’s been driven up the wall too. I just know.
Tilting her chin up to mine, I kiss her until we’re both breathless. She melts into me, her arms going around my neck, pulling me closer. I’m smearing her lipstick over her face, ruining what looks like hours of makeup, but I don’t care. And I love the fact that she doesn’t mind it either, even if she’s going to be appearing on stage soon.
Appearing on stage soon. . . in front of all of those people, all of whom are desperate to have a piece of her.
A crazy surge of possessiveness wells up in me. I can’t have her all to myself for the next few hours, damn it, but I’m going to have as much of her as I can right now.
I begin to kiss her again, my hands cupping her ass beneath the short sequined jumpsuit. Faye moans as I squeeze her.
“My stylists,” she groans. “They’re just outside that door.”
“Perfect,” I whisper in her ear. The thought of people hearing me as I claim her has never been more alluring.
I hoist her in my arms. Faye surrenders willingly, not uttering another word of protest. I look around for a comfortable spot, but all I see are racks of clothes and makeup products. Suppressing a frustrated growl, I march to the dressing table and deposit her on it, right in front of the bulb-studded mirror. The light hurts my eyes, but I hardly notice the pain.
Faye looks up at me, her cheeks pink and her face full of need. I’m drawn to her like a magnet, pushing myself into the space between her thighs, feeling her outfit for a zipper or a button.
“Wait,” she mutters. She shrugs off the jumpsuit from the top, wiggling so it peels off her body and gathers at her waist. She pulls it down the rest of the way with her hands.
In a few seconds, I’m staring at Faye Strummer, naked in her dressing room and practically begging for me to fuck her.