Chapter Twelve – Angel
I thought getting up on that stage and singing in a room in front of a bunch of strangers might be a little weird. I mean, just because I sang in my room all the time and I was in choir all throughout high school didn’t mean anything. This was different. I’d landed a spot in a popular band, thanks to my stalker of a sister.
But, surprisingly, it wasn’t that weird. At first, I was a little quieter than I should’ve been, but once I got going…
I’d never done the talent show or any solo in choir. It wasn’t that I was afraid of people watching me and thinking I sucked. It’s more that I’d just never gone for it. Like I was nervous, deep down, that I’d be denied before I even got up on that stage.
Singing had always been a favorite pastime of mine, even when I was a kid. I’d always known I had a good voice. A solid alto, I might not have the range of a soprano, but I made up for it with the sheer strength behind my voice.
Once I made it to the first chorus, everyone in the establishment was watching me. Even the gentleman working behind the bar. All eyes were on me. Bishop’s stare was glued to me, and Deacon no longer looked like he wanted to either kill someone or die. Priest wasn’t paying attention to his two flirting buddies, and they, in turn, had stopped ogling him to watch me.
I was so into the song that I completely forgot what I was wearing. This whole thing was so unlike me, but I guess that’s the point—this was an experience of a lifetime, so I had to make it count. I had to push myself, do things I wouldn’t normally do. Live a little.
Once I got into it, the song was over just like that. Time flew by, and before I knew it, I was walking off the stage, wearing a wide smile as most of the people in the bar clapped for me. I wondered if that’s how it was normally. If, when Black Sacrament performed, the set list was over in the blink of an eye.
I slipped into my seat next to Bishop and Deacon, still smiling as I asked, “So, how was I?” My face was a little warm, flushed from the attention. I could use some water, but I wanted to hear their answers first.
“You were…” Bishop was the first to talk, and a part of me foolishly hoped he’d suddenly remember who I was, that we used to sing together all the time as children. Again, that was a stupid hope, because we’d been kids. So much time had passed since then. My voice certainly wasn’t the same as it was when I was ten.
Priest leaned over the table, his expression intense as he said, “I think what he’s trying to say is that you were amazing. I mean, we figured you could sing, but… damn, girl.” He shot me one of his lopsided grins.
I glanced to my side, toward Deacon, finding he was nodding along with Priest. When he saw me looking at him, he coughed and turned his face away so I could no longer see how impressed he was with me.
“Don’t know how I’m going to follow that, but the show must go on,” Priest spoke, running a hand down his chest. He abruptly stood. “This one’s for you.” He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular when he said it, possibly so that both Hailee and Tara could assume it was meant for them. Maybe even so I could assume it was meant for me.
Priest might be hotter than hell, but I wasn’t into the big flirts. The way guys like that flirted with everything that moved, you could never be too sure he was into you. When flirting became first nature to them, could you really believe anything they said?
So, no, I didn’t think resisting the band’s charms was going to be hard.
As Priest chose his song, Bishop leaned closer to me and asked, “Do you want anything to drink?”
“I could go for some water, actually,” I told him, and he gave me a short nod before getting up and wandering over to the bar to fetch me some water.
My eyes were glued to Priest. In all the videos I’d seen, Pope was the main singer, the center of the stage. The focal point. Priest had always done backup vocals, but he’d never had the front stage solely to himself. His voice never really had a chance to shine. I couldn’t help but be curious.
Across from me, Hailee and Tara were caught in Priest’s web. They couldn’t take their eyes off him, and once everything was ready and he hopped up on the stage, I heard the girls swoon and sigh, like the mere sight of him up there was enough to get them worked up.
Some girls went crazy for a man who could sing. I wasn’t one of them.
The music started up. With the microphone in his left hand, he pointed at our table with his right. Again, he said, “This one’s for you.” And, just like before, he didn’t clarify who the song was for. That didn’t stop Hailee and Tara from giggling and glancing at each other, as if they both thought it was for them.
And it probably was. I mean, there was no way Priest would get up on that stage and sing something for me. Why would he when he had two beautiful girls who were obviously into him?
That’s what my brain said, anyway. Unfortunately, when Priest began to sing, different feelings rose up inside me, similar to the emotions that were at war within me when I’d watched some of their live shows to study their movements and stage presence.
Bishop returned with a glass of ice water, and I managed to thank him, but that was about all I could do. Priest had my rapt attention, so much so that I didn’t even sip the water right away.
Up on that stage, Priest looked tall. Imposing. Sexy, with the top buttons of his shirt undone and his tatted chest peeking out. His voice was a little raspy, but strong, and it occurred to me he must’ve been holding back all these years as a backup vocalist to Pope.
Priest’s voice wasn’t the kind of voice you stifled. No, the gravelly undertone should be front and center. It wasn’t a smooth voice, not like mine, but there was something sexy about it. Rough, ragged, and when he hit those low notes in the song—a song I didn’t recognize, but one that was similar to the type of music Black Sacrament put out—it was almost like they were growled out.
Okay, yeah, Priest was hot. Hotter than hell. Sex on two legs. It wasn’t a wonder why he was a huge flirt. Girls probably tripped over themselves trying to get to him, and he rarely had to put in any work. His body count was probably higher than I could imagine.
I… I didn’t know why, but that thought made me extremely envious, which was just stupid. I mean, it wasn’t like I had a crush on Priest or anything. I didn’t like any of these guys, not like that. Whoever they’d been with in the past was literally none of my business.
Hailee and Tara whispered amongst themselves for a few seconds, and then they got up and sauntered over to the stage in order to stand right there in front of Priest. So they could watch him close-up, I guess.
Their presence near the stage broke whatever spell had been cast over me the moment Priest started to sing, and I let my gaze fall to the table, slow to grab the glass of water Bishop had gotten for me. I chugged nearly half of it, then excused myself to go to the restroom.
I didn’t really have to pee, but sitting there, watching those two girls go gaga over Priest, and Priest lapping it up like a greedy son of a bitch wasn’t my idea of a good time. I zigzagged through the bar, heading to the door that was labeled with a microphone with a skirt on.
Yeah, trying to be funny or something, I guess. Really lean into the karaoke aspect of this bar.
I pushed inside. There was no line, although it did sound like one of the stalls was in use. I went to the row of sinks and set my hands on the counter, breathing slow. My eyes were glued to the sink in front of me for the longest time, and then, slowly, I lifted my stare to the mirror.
It was me. My reflection staring back at me. But at the same time, it wasn’t me. I brought a hand to my white hair, twirling a finger through its lengths as I watched the girl in the mirror do the exact same thing.
In this dress, with white hair… it just wasn’t me. I looked so different, like a whole separate person. Pretty, yes, but I was never someone who cared about looking my best at all times. I didn’t even know how to curl my own hair evenly to get nice, uniform waves. I was just a normal girl from a small town.
What was the point of all of this if I had to pretend to be someone else? What fun would it be if I couldn’t be me?
Those questions were probably too deep to be asked while inside a bar’s restroom, I realized as the woman who was in the stall finished up her business, flushed, and came out to wash her hands. We shared one of those awkward smiles once she was done, and then she dried her hands and walked out.
I thought I’d have the restroom to myself after that, but someone else walked in: Tara. And she made a beeline toward me, which told me she’d come in here to talk to me and not to pee.
“Hey, girl,” she said, wearing a smile that just felt fake. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. Just needed some air. It’s hot out there.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. Being on stage had made me warm, and then watching Priest… well, that had gotten me warm all over again. Plus, I didn’t want to watch him sing to her and her friend, but she didn’t need to know that part.
She came to stand beside me. “It is very hot out there,” she agreed. She had a small purse, and she set it on the counter and pulled out a tube of lipstick. After puckering her lips, she reapplied. “So, how’s your date going?”
My what? And then I remembered Priest’s story about this being a date with Bishop-slash-Brandon. “It’s… fine, I guess.”
Tara finished up, a new layer of dark red lipstick on her face. She put the tube back into her purse and turned to stare at me. “That doesn’t sound very resounding. If you don’t like him, ditch him. You can share a ride home with us.”
A part of me might’ve believed she was fake before, but when she said that, she sounded sincere… and it occurred to me that me believing she and Hailee were fake all stemmed from some sort of stupid jealousy.
Over Priest, the guy I swore up and down I wasn’t interested in.
God, I felt stupid. I shouldn’t hate on other girls just because they liked Priest. They were free to do so. Hell, they were free to like Bishop and Deacon too—although, I didn’t think any girl in their right mind would like Deacon and his quiet, brooding self. I mean, this wasn’t a movie. Quiet, semi-angry, and brooding? So ten years ago.
“Thanks, but I’m okay,” I told her.
She shrugged, accepting my answer but not going to leave. She turned to the mirror and started to fix her hair, even though I couldn’t see any part of it that needed fixing. “What do you know about Paul? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, does he?”
Ah, so this had to be why she came after me in the restroom: to find out information about Priest. Although, whether that information was for her or her friend was anyone’s guess.
“No, he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” I told her, immediately noticing a smile on her face.
“That’s so surprising. I mean, look at him. Why wouldn’t a man like that have someone?” She paused. “Unless he’s a toxic, red flag waving slut who doesn’t want to get tied down.” I laughed, mostly because I wasn’t expecting her to say that, and she added, “What? Sometimes all you need is a good dicking by a toxic, red flag waving slut. Remember that, Angie.”
With that pearl of wisdom shared, she held her head high, turned around, and marched toward the door, leaving me alone.
Maybe all she and her friend needed was a good dicking by a toxic, red flag waving slut, but I, myself, preferred to steer clear of those red flags. And I definitely, one hundred and ten percent didn’t want to crush on a guy who was used to girls tripping over themselves for him.
Or a guy who couldn’t remember me, or a guy who was in a constant bad mood, for that matter.
So, basically, none of the guys in Black Sacrament were worth crushing on.
I tossed one last look at myself in the mirror before following her out. Who said I had to keep at this after my contract was done? If I hated pretending to be someone else, I didn’t have to keep doing it. I could do it for the experience, for the paycheck, and then go back to my old life. There was nothing tying me down here for longer than a year.
And that was why, when I walked out of the bathroom and saw Priest was on stage with Hailee, singing a duet from the eighties, it didn’t bother me. Not one bit.
I returned to the table, slipping onto my chair between Bishop and Deacon. Tara had gone to root for her friend near the stage, which left me alone with the others. This time, I didn’t let my gaze wander to Priest. I asked, “So, do you think I’m a good fit? I know you didn’t really have a choice.”
I would make a conscious effort to not let the fact that Bishop didn’t remember me hurt me, just like I wouldn’t take to heart anything mean Deacon might say or how flirty Priest was with any girl in his vicinity. I wanted to be friends with them, but if we couldn’t become friends, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“I mean, I was a little confused when Ramona told us about you,” Bishop said, picking at a spot on the table with his finger. His hazel eyes were sluggish in lifting to my face. “But after hearing you sing, I get it. It’s going to be a change from what we used to be, a different sound overall, but—”
“It’s not going to be the same,” Deacon huffed, shooting us both dirty looks. “Black Sacrament should’ve ended—” Bishop tried to shush him, but no one around us was listening; everyone was too engrossed with Priest and Hailee onstage. “What? You don’t want to hear it, but it’s true. We,” he paused to point between Bishop, Priest, and himself, “shouldn’t be here. B.S. should’ve broken up for good, because this isn’t going to work.”
“I’m not going to work, huh?” I asked, turning to face Deacon. Behind me, Bishop was trying to make apologies for Deacon and everything he’d said, but I dutifully ignored him. “Let me tell you something. If this doesn’t work, it’s not going to be because of me. It’s going to be because of you and your shitty attitude.”
Deacon scowled. “I don’t have a shitty attitude.”
“You do. You had one when we first met, you have one now, and you’ve had one all in between,” I told him, the sound of Priest and Hailee’s voice a backdrop for me standing up for myself. “I don’t care if you don’t like me or if you don’t think this is going to work, but the least you can do is try.”
“You don’t know what it’s like, watching everything you’ve worked for get pissed down the drain,” he hissed out.
“No, I don’t, but I know nothing good is going to come from that attitude.”
Deacon straightened out, and then he leaned over to me, practically on top of me while still on his own chair, somehow. He ignored Bishop’s warning as he leaned in close and whispered, “Who the fuck are you to say any of this to me? You’re nobody. And once you’re out of here, you’ll go right back to being a nobody.”
The way he said it, like he honestly believed it, made me angrier than I wanted to admit. Bishop had placed a hand on my back, and he was busy trying to get me to ignore Deacon, but I couldn’t.
Deacon might be used to running his mouth and saying whatever the hell he wanted to, but I wouldn’t let him continue his mean streak. Not without getting pissed on in return.
“I’d rather be a nobody than a drunk with a stick so far up his ass he can’t walk straight. I’d rather be a nobody than be cynical and mean like you. So, you know what, Devon ?” I used his fake name, not to be confused with his other fake name. “You can fuck right off, and then you can keep fucking off until that stick finally falls out of your ass.”
I whipped my head around, looking at Bishop as I grabbed my glass of water and had another drink. Deacon had leaned so close to me, the hair-flip actually whacked him in the face.
Good. He deserved that and a whole lot more.
Deacon got up, his chair scraping as he stood, and then he wandered over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the vacant stools before the bar’s counter. He ordered himself more alcohol—because that’s what he needed. Booze to fuel his piss-poor attitude.
Bishop muttered, “Wow. That was… that was something else. I’ve only ever seen Ramona tell him off, but even then, whatever she says slides right off him. You really got under his skin.”
I wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a compliment or not, so I just shrugged and took another sip of water… and then I realized Bishop’s hand was still on my back. Although, now that I was facing him and not Deacon’s seat, the hand was now closer to my waist than my actual back.
And he didn’t seem to mind. Or realize it himself.
I wondered if I should say something, but the way he was looking at me with those hazel eyes made whatever comment I had ready die in the back of my throat.
“What’s going on? What’d I miss?” Priest spoke with a grin as he reclaimed his seat on the other side of the table. The two girls had chosen a song and now sang with each other on stage—probably for Priest, but he was too busy flicking his gray eyes between Bishop and me. He definitely noticed the location of Bishop’s hand.
“Oh, nothing. Angie here just told Devon off,” Bishop said. “It was something to see.”
“Damn. I’m sorry I missed that.” To me, he added, “He probably had it coming.” He held my stare for a bit too long before saying, “So, you guys really on a date or something now?”
“What?” Bishop’s brows furrowed, and it was only then that he looked down and saw his hand resting near my waist. Once he noticed, he pulled that hand off me like I was a hot potato he couldn’t drop fast enough. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t realize—”
Okay, I knew we were off-limits to each other, but damn. That kind of hurt, how quick he was to yank that hand off me, like he thought I was disgusting or something.
“It’s fine,” I muttered, trying to hide how hurt I was. God, this was stupid.
Priest’s chest hummed, as if he didn’t know what to believe. But in the end, he didn’t say anything more. Since his back was to the stage, he moved to claim Deacon’s abandoned seat so he could watch his girlfriends for the night sing.
Ugh. Why did I feel like this was going to be a long night?