Getting Real

24. Push



Cherry was a new nightclub, based on the concept of a Las Vegas pool party. It was a rooftop venue with a designer infinity pool and private cabanas flanking its edge, as well as a scattering of restaurants and bars. Smooth dance music played, and you could smell the illegal substance abuse in the air. Rielle hated the place at first sight of the glittering pool and the bikini-clad hostesses. But they were contracted to be here so she was stuck.

She’d rather be anywhere else but poolside at Cherry, but then she didn’t want to be at the hotel, in the city or the country either. She wanted to be back in LA at the very moment Rand looked like he’d found home.

She left Rand with Jake and went to the bar, where she signed a few autographs and posed for some pictures. With social media taken care of for the night, she got two Champagne Daisies and headed over to Harry who was watching Stu and Ceedee slow dance dangerously close to the edge of the pool.

She’d been ready to dislike Harry, the school nerd turned TV producer, but she’d seen the way her crew responded to her, how she’d won the trust of the band and the roadies, and the way Rand was when she was around. He floated, he never stopped humming bits of song, some recognisable, some of his own making. Rielle was anxious nothing burst his bubble, not yet anyway.

The way Harry looked at the drink told Rielle she thought it was bait.

Rielle threw out her first line, “You and Rand—you’re serious?”

“We’re having some fun.” Harry took a sip. “Hmm, this is lethal. I’m working—I need to watch it.”

Rielle shifted her glass from hand to hand. “You’d better play fair with him, because he’s a lost cause about you.” Not quite a hook, more of a sinker. Harry could pretend ignorance, but not if she was interested in an easy life.

“I know, Rielle. I know how he feels.”

“He’s the finest person in the world. He deserves to be treated with respect.” Rielle frowned, working herself up. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Rie, I understand. I get it. I wouldn’t deliberately hurt him anymore than I would kick a kitten. He’s important to me too.”

“Important?”

“He’s—I don’t know what to say. He’s incredible. I don’t understand how he managed to stay the same gorgeous, thoughtful boy he was. You had it so tough, you were both so young. He had more than enough reasons to turn out differently.”

Rielle nodded, relief unknotted her shoulders. Harry did get it. “Yeah, I’m the family screw up. He’s the saint. I’d rather die than see anything bad happen to him.”

Harry put her glass down, still half full. “I don’t think you’re a screw up. You’re amazing.”

Rielle ducked her head. Of course she’d done well, but at the cost of an unfathomable pit of grief and fear. All they’d achieved was built on tragedy. Rand would’ve been happy with less and she had no idea what would make her happy.

She shot Harry a look; maybe she wasn’t so smart after all—couldn’t she see what Jake did? “Don’t they say appearances can be deceiving? You’re in TV. I figured you’d know that better than anyone.”

“I was going to ask you about Jake.”

“What about him?” Rielle said startled, feeling like Harry had been in her head.

“About you and him.” Harry smiled, sympathetically. “Looks to me like you’re pretty gone on each other.”

Rielle stiffened. All those knots were back in her neck, clenching with a vengeance. “Why would you say that?”

“I look out for stuff like that. Like you said, I’m in TV.”

“Then you’d know that he’s Mr Nice Guy, Mr Family Values. Not exactly a good fit with me.”

Harry picked up her glass again and sipped. “You’re very hard on yourself, Rie.”

Rielle shrugged. “Yeah, so imagine how hard I can be on anyone I don’t like. You hurt Rand in any way and I’ll hunt you down and make you wish you’d gone to a different high school.”

Harry clinked her glass against Rielle’s. “If I hurt Rand in any way, you have my full permission to make me regret the day I was born.”

And as if on cue, Ceedee pushed Stu into the pool. Rielle stood with Harry and watched tomorrow’s celebrity gossip coverage unfold live.

Roley, How and Rand moved at once. How grabbing Rand to stop him going anywhere near Stu. A clever move. Rie shot How a look and mouthed a thanks. Roley, playing the clown, hugged Ceedee, and laughed at Stu as he tried to climb out, shoving him back in the pool with his foot, only a snatched ankle away from being in the drink himself.

A roar and a lunge from a dripping Stu rising out of hip deep water brought Roley undone. The two men grappled, but Stu was enraged and Roley was fish food. He splashed in head first and came up with a splutter of laughter, his hair in his eyes and his t-shirt wound around his chest.

A leggy brunette in a flame red mini dress promptly jumped in beside him. She said, “You’re cute,” and surprised him with a chlorinated kiss.

“Hear that Stu, I’m cute,” Roley called.

The rage washed off Stu but not the jackass. He reached a hand up to the brunette’s friend. “Care to come for a swim?” Without waiting for her response, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her into the pool.

Rielle watched as Jake went to Ceedee. He was trying to get her to turn away, not to watch as Stu mauled his new wet playmate, kissing her neck, making her giggle theatrically. She left her drink and went to them, though maybe Jake would be able to break through to Ceedee, where she’d long failed to.

Ceedee was shaking. She grabbed Rielle’s arm. “He’s a bastard.”

“Yeah, so walk away,” she said, like she’d said a hundred times before.

“I can’t.” Ceedee couldn’t even look away.

Rielle looked at Jake. He’d moved to try to block Ceedee’s view. “You can if you don’t want him to keep treating you like this,” she said.

“He doesn’t mean it. He’s always sorry afterwards.”

“Then he does it again. He always does it again.”

Ceedee nodded imperceptibly, but Jake caught the quick dip of her head. “Then he’s not sorry and every time you forgive him, you let him get away with treating you like this. It’s abuse, Ceedee,” he said.

She gasped and spun to him “It’s not! I don’t! It’s not my fault. You can’t blame me for his behaviour.”

“Not your fault, but you aren’t helping if you give him a free pass,” he said.

“I don’t. I’ll give him hell.”

Jake jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where Stu was still frolicking. “Will you let him crawl into your bed tonight?” He knew as well as Rielle did they shared a room. He was pushing her hard.

Ceedee snapped. “The right answer is no isn’t it, Jake?” She said it bitterly, resentfully, as if it was all Jake’s fault Stu was a two-timing sleaze.

“The answer is what’s right for you and letting him do this to you—I’m not sure that can be good,” he said

“Well what am I supposed to do? I love him.”

Jake lifted both hands, palms up. “Hey, it’s not my call. You have to solve this one yourself.”

“Rand will…”

“Really, Ceedee? You need Rand to sort this for you? Have you noticed he’s a little busy right now?” Jake gestured to Rand laughing with Harry. How, sensibly, still his wingman.

Ceedee followed Jake’s arm, recognition broke on her face. “Oh, I didn’t know.” Her eyes came back to Jake. “Would you talk to Stu for me?”

“And say what?” Jake’s hands came up in a flash of frustration. “‘Mate, you’re an idiot, you’ve got this gorgeous talented girlfriend and you keep screwing it up.’”

Ceedee bit on a fingernail. “He might listen if it came from you.”

“He doesn’t listen to Rand and they’re like brothers. He won’t listen to me. The only person he might listen to is you. But you have to say the right things, different things, Ceedee, if you want a different response.”

She frowned, shifting on her feet—not stamping but close enough. “You won’t help me then?”

Jake sighed. “I am helping you—you’re not listening.”

Ceedee glared at him. “I need a drink.” She pushed past them both, her six inch heels stabbing the tiles as she headed for the bar.

Jake watched Ceedee go. He simply wasn’t used to a job that demanded he referee fights, baby-sit drunk musos, be a lifeguard, and relationship counsellor. He’d had enough of Ice Queen for one day. He wanted to check in with Glen about the stage strike and sleep til the alarm forced him to grab a taxi for the airport. Rielle had other plans.

“You tried. She won’t change, but at least you tried,” she said. “I think she’s in love with the drama of it.”

Jake snorted and the words, “And you’re not?” punched out of his mouth.

Rielle’s painted eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah, I live for it,” she said, dripping sarcasm. She wheeled around to leave him, but he grabbed her arm. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re always telling me what you shouldn’t have said, Jake. How about you tell me what you really think for a change, huh?”

A current of anger whip-cracked between them. Jake dragged his hand through his hair, took in Rielle’s aggressive stance: chin up, shoulders back, hands fisted on her hips. “Come with me,” he snapped, eyeing an empty cabana.

Between where they stood now and the place he’d chosen for a showdown with Rielle, was Stu climbing out of the pool and a hostess holding out a monogrammed towel and a fluffy robe for him. When Jake walked past, Stu called out, “Will you see Ceedee gets back to the hotel?” Without breaking his stride, he palmed Stu mid-chest, pushing him back in the pool.

Inside the cabana, with its diaphanous curtains drawn, Jake threw himself onto a plush padded lounge. The effort to get here, the look on Stu’s face and the sound of Rand’s whoop, the laughter from the pretty boys and the glamour girls around the pool had taken the edge off his sudden flare of anger. Maybe Rielle wouldn’t follow him—she wasn’t big on obeying orders.

She wasn’t big on backing off a fight either.

Through the near transparent curtain he saw her approach, hesitate. Unlike on the pole or the trapeze, or when she owned the stage, her movements were unsure. She wavered in the light of the fire torches looking like she might as easily take flight in the opposite direction.

He realised he was holding his breath, waiting for her decision. He didn’t know if he wanted her here or not. All he knew was she confused the hell out of him. Chances were, if she came anywhere near him, he’d have to battle with himself not to touch her. And what if she demanded answers? He wasn’t sure he had any that were rational; that didn’t start with wanting her in his arms. And that was a phenomenally bad idea. They’d tried that. It didn’t work. She’d made it clear she didn’t want him that way.

He felt stupid sitting here alone. At least he could’ve ordered a drink. He got to his feet ready to fling back the curtain and leave the cabana just as Rielle ducked through its folds. She had a mean look in her eyes that didn’t fit with the hesitancy he’d seen. He was right. She was in love with the drama of being Rielle Mainline, rock star, painted, primped and fake to the core, acting out her life instead of living it. A feeling of contempt bubbled thick and hot, chilli sauce in his veins.

“Are you sure you want to know what I think?” he growled.

Eyes flashing, she said, “Give it your best shot, lover.”

“Lover!” The word was like a slap. “You feel safe tossing that word at me, Rielle? Because I don’t think you know anything about love. I don’t think you know anything about real life. I don’t think you know who you are without the hair and makeup, without the clothes, the fans, the flashbulbs.”

She shifted with irritation, tossed her hair, the handkerchief ends of her dress floating around her legs, showing the muscles of her thighs. “Sure Jake—you think I’m a cliché, well big f*cking deal, I think so too. What else have you got?”

He knew she was trying to back him into a corner. He knew he should either kiss her or walk away and that anything else was just picking at the pink puckered beginnings of a new scab. He wanted to rip the wound open and have it done with so it could heal properly.

“You said you’re never frightened. I think you’re frightened all the time. All your tough talk, your smart mouth, your ‘don’t f*ck with me’ attitude, it’s there to hide a scared little kid who’s weak and wounded, and running from the truth.”

Her eyes widened, she took a step back from him. He could see he’d scored a direct hit and it should have been enough. But it wasn’t. All he had left in him tonight was being a jerk. “A terrible thing happened to you and you never got over it.”

Her chin came up. “Yeah, so you can read. The accident is in every profile ever written on us.”

“Yeah, I read about it.” He sneered, snatching a fist full of the curtain. He was done with this. Done with her. “What I know is Rand got past it—you never did. He grew up; he owns his life. You’re still fourteen years old and shit scared and not tough enough to learn how to live a life you care about.”

He yanked the curtain aside and Rielle’s hand shot out to grab his arm. “You don’t get it. If only—”

He shook her off. “No, thank Christ. Getting you is outside my job description.”