Epic (Fierce) Page 15

  “Where you put every person you could in between us,” I countered. “And if there wasn’t a live person to buffer me, you used your phone. You make me feel like shit, Griffin – even worse than all the parasites on gossip sites that have made it their lives’ goal to do so.”

  He shook his head as he dug into Emma’s plate. “I hate to break it to you, love, but I’ve done nothing at all to you. I do what is right for me, just like anyone else. Just like you. That doesn’t mean it has anything to do with anyone else. I can’t help it if anyone takes that personally.”

  “Easy excuse,” I snapped. “When you treat people like they are insignificant, that’s how they generally feel around you.”

  “And since when are your feelings my responsibility?” he wanted to know. “You seriously need to grow up, Jordi. You’ll get a lot further in this business, and in life, if you take responsibility for your own emotions.”

  “And you’ll get a lot further as a human being if you stop being such a selfish douche bag,” I snapped as I hopped up from the seat. “Call Bryn Golightly to finish your goddamn song. Apparently you want to get a lot more done with her than you could ever want to do with me,” I tossed over my shoulder as I stalked from the restaurant and headed right up to my room.

  Fuck Griffin Slade. I laid down enough vocals for him to finish the song without me, which seemed to be his preference, anyway.

  If not, he could call Bryn back to Vegas and they could spend the rest of the week cuddling and canoodling as they recorded an Oscar-worthy song. No doubt she’d look ah-mazing in her designer gown as she glided down the red carpet on his arm. I was still scowling as I exited the elevator and stomped all the way to my room.

  What arrogance! I thought as I kicked off my shoes and stomped to the bathroom to draw a long bath, to wash away the grit of anger and disappointment. Who did he think he was? Just because he was Griffin Slade he got to circumvent the rules of decent society? He didn’t get to pick and choose who deserved common courtesy, and then make it the responsibility of those he slighted that they felt bad. If I had to own my “childish” behavior, why couldn’t he be called out on being a dick?

  I lounged in the tub until the water turned tepid, trying to figure out what I wanted to do next. Clearly we couldn’t work together after this. And why should we? We obviously didn’t like each other, and it was even more apparent that we didn’t respect each other. Why keep up the pretense? We’d tried for months and it was just one exercise after the other in futility and frustration.

  If he really wanted me to take control of my emotions, the most logical fix – in my mind – was dumping any relationship that made me feel like crap. There was no prize anyone could offer that would make it worth tearing my already tissue-thin self-esteem asunder. I’d already done my time in that particular circle of hell with Marianne, Pilar and Eddie.

  Was a little gold statuette really worth dealing with someone who considered me lesser than simply because I didn’t fit into a certain size dress? I had had enough trouble fighting that mentality since I first stepped out onto the Fierce stage. I didn’t see any value at all indulging anyone who may think that way, especially if that person wanted to blame me for his own narrow-minded point of view.

  I opened up my email inbox to fire off a note to Graham. I was fully prepared to dump the project altogether, financial or occupational consequences be damned. Working with Griffin wasn’t worth what it was doing to my fragile psyche, especially when the rest of my world was falling apart. Unfortunately the news feed on my email provider diverted my attention. Both my name and Griffin’s were trending. My throat closed shut as I clicked on the link, which included a photo from the restaurant downstairs.

  LOVERS SPAT IN THE CITY OF SIN?

  “Throw some jumbo shrimp on the barbie! We know that Jordi Hemphill has a voracious appetite when it comes to the men in her life, but the plus-size Fierce diva has finally bitten off more than she can chew. Tension has plagued Hemphill’s recording sessions with notorious playboy, Griffin Slade. This proved explosive in New York when the performers were thrown together in a super sexy video shoot, courtesy of Roxy Malone. Insiders tell our sources that Slade’s ever-changing arm candy has driven the zaftig singer to the brink of distraction ever since, dragging out these sessions from coast to coast. Hemphill’s jealous, diva antics have been well documented in this blog, so this blogger was not surprised to hear that the pair was seen arguing at a chic Vegas restaurant, where Hemphill was overheard throwing Slade’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, Bryn Golightly, in his face. It appears that in addition to having Golightly collaborate on the new song poised to make Hemphill a film icon, the stalwart bachelor was ditching the heavyweight recording artist to play with his petite plaything on the side. And we all know that Jordi doesn’t like to share the spotlight or her men. Perhaps the notorious man-eater finally figured out in order to snag someone like this sexy, slippery Aussie, she’s actually going to have to lay off the donuts!”

  Miles O’Rourke had struck again. Worse, most online magazines reposted the blog on their own sites to spread the rumor like wildfire, giving it way more credibility than a celebrity gossip blog deserved. Apparently this was what passed as breaking news in our country. Social media was abuzz with my “scandalous affair.” Fans were sending their condolences to Jace, along with salacious offers to comfort him through his heartbreak. And of course I got my fair share of messages, telling me what a worthless cow and two-bit whore I was.

  It made me even more determined to scrap the whole project, but Graham was far from sympathetic when I called him. In fact, he reiterated what Griffin had said, that I needed to do what was right for me and let the thoughts and feelings of others be their responsibility – including Griffin. When I pointed out that it scandal could mar the song even before it was released, he chuckled and told me that the only bad publicity was no publicity at all. Since the “scandal” broke, he had been inundated with calls from every music news outlet to preview Roxy’s video.

  I thought Jace would support my decision to jump ship, but he echoed what Graham had said. “As long as we know the truth, what difference does it make?” he reasoned softly. “I was there in Vegas with you for a week and no one blinked an eye. You and I are old news. But you and some other high-profile celebrity? That gets tongues wagging. O’Rourke doesn’t care of the shit he prints is accurate, as long as he gets thousands more views. If you pass up this opportunity because of someone like that, you essentially let them win.”

  “It’s not just that,” I said. “Griffin treats me like I don’t exist just because I don’t fit in a size 2 dress. If we’re not working, he’s nose deep in his phone, talking to the people he really wants to hang around. And then, when I point out what a rude asshole he’s being, he says it’s my fault that I feel bad.”

  Jace chuckled, which took me by surprise.

  “What?”

  “He may be a rude asshole, but he’s not wrong. What he thinks of you doesn’t have to matter unless you decide that it does.”

  I wanted to toss the phone across the room. It seemed nobody was on my side. “So you’re OK with this?”

  “OK with your having an Oscar on our mantel? Yes, I’m completely fine with it.”

  “You’re a lot of help, Jace.”

  “This is our business, babe,” he said. “You’re going to work with a lot of different people. You don’t have to like them to learn from them. In fact, you may just learn the most from the people you like the least.”

  “I hate it that you’re so sensible,” I muttered.

  “And I love it that you’re so passionate,” he responded. “I don’t know about you, but I think we make the perfect pair. Even if you are out to replace me,” he added. I could hear his smile through the phone.

  “Not funny,” I informed him.

  He laughed. “I thought it was hilarious. Now go record your song so you can come home.”

  “I could just ditch the song and c
ome home now.”

  “No, you can’t,” he said softly. “The Jordi I know and love is a fighter, who never let anyone or anything stand between her and her dreams. If you come home now, you’re going to give up a big part of what makes you who you are. And you know that deep down.”

  He was right. If I went home now, I’d resent forever that missed opportunity. I’d blame Griffin and his behavior, but it was really me and my feelings.

  “You can’t change Griffin or anyone else,” Jace continued. “You can only change how you react to them.” I nodded but didn’t say anything. “Just take the day to think about it. Don’t make any decision this big based on something as fleeting as emotion. Do something fun, take your mind off of it. Then tackle it tomorrow after you’ve had a chance to sleep on it.”

  He was so level-headed and logical. If I could channel half of that, I’d be set. So I decided to take his advice and do something to take my mind off of Griffin and all the manufactured drama from the Internet. As it so happened, Diego had a gig that night, a sort of “battle of the bands” held by a local radio station. They were auditioning for opening acts for a music festival they were hosting the following weekend, so it was a bigger venue and much bigger audience than they were used to playing. Both Diego’s social media and the handle for his band encouraged all their fans to show up and show some love, given the winning act would be decided by the audience.

  With that, my night was set. I called upon the Vegas Tempestuous to deliver an outfit suitable for the metal mania of the evening. In fact, I went even more Goth than I normally dared. The concierge located a magenta wig with a bobbed haircut, along with glasses to further disguise my identity.

  I felt like an entirely new person as I headed to the outdoor venue where the bands were set to perform. I could get lost in the crowd and no one would even know I was there at all. As far as Diego was concerned, this was probably best. He had avoided me like the plague ever since I got to Vegas. The only way I could spend any time with him at all, getting to know him, learning his interests, being a part of his life, was as a faceless member of a blurry, dark audience just beyond the bright lights of the stage.

  As it so happened, that approach worked really well for me this particular evening.

  I blended in with the enthusiastic crowd, allowing myself to be part of the audience. No one even looked twice at me as I squeezed myself in between the sweaty, dancing bodies, inching closer to the stage. Catastrophe Rising was billed to perform toward the end of the evening, giving me plenty of time to relax and people watch in the meantime. I sipped from my bottle of water as I glanced out over the crowd, studying how they responded to the music.

  I felt at home among the alternative crowd. People came in all shapes and sizes, with all sorts of colors of hair and any variety of piercings and tattoos. They didn’t give a shit about judging anyone around them. They were perfectly comfortable in their skin and had no reason to hate anyone else for being “different.” Differences in this crowd were celebrated and honored, as evidenced by the bands on stage.

  One of the standout performers for me was an all-female band called Unapologetic B!tches. There were five members, representing five races. The lead singer was biracial, with a tight curly afro, and eyes so green I could see them from where I sat. Though she weighed as much as I did, she wore a short plaid skirt with torn fishnet stockings and combat boots. Though I hadn’t been in public without a bra of some sort since I was ten, this lead singer – who introduced herself as Kamaria – had no problem wearing a tank top with no bra. She sang about sex and she sang about power, and not one person in the audience dared to question her. Men whistled and hollered as she flirted shamelessly with the crowd.

  Even more impressive was the musicianship of the band. The songs were solid. The lead guitarist, a beautiful blonde who wore leather tip to toe, shredded like a legend in the making. The lyrics were intelligent and relevant, which made me want to hear more. And Kamaria’s voice was so powerful it blew me right out of the water.

  After they finished performing, I worked my way toward their booth to check out more of their music. Just as I reached for the last CD, it was snatched up by another fan whose tattooed fingers immediately gave him away. My mouth nearly hit the floor as I turned to face Griffin Slade, whose hat and glasses couldn’t conceal his identity up close.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered as I turned to leave. He caught my arm with his hand.

  “Hey, don’t go. Here,” he said as he offered me the last CD.

  I glared at him as I took the CD. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a song to record.”

  “I do,” he said with a smirk I assumed worked on all the girls who didn’t know what a raging asshole he could be. “But my singer bailed so I thought I’d come out and support a friend of mine.”

  I looked down at the cover, my eyes landing on the blonde guitarist. “Of course.”

  “They’re something, huh?” he asked.

  “Very talented,” I concurred.

  “I can introduce you. Come on,” he said as he reached for my arm.

  “Maybe another time. I’m here to see someone, too,” I informed him coldly.

  He nodded. “Catastrophe Rising, I’d suspect.”

  My eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

  He chuckled. “That’s one of two people you follow in Vegas, according to your Twitter. The other is the guitarist, Diego Palermo. Given you’ve already been caught by the press at one of their shows, it’s not that difficult to put together.”

  “For a stalker,” I spat as I turned to stalk off, but he was right behind me.

  “I like to know who I’m working with,” he informed me as he matched me stride for stride back into the crowd. “Kind of like how you seem to know who I’m dating or seeing at any given time.”

  “I knew about Bryn because Emma told me,” I snapped. “As if I owe you an explanation, which I don’t.”

  “Hey, I don’t care if you know. I don’t care if anyone knows. I’m an open book.”

  I swiveled back to face him. “You’re an open book in another language!”

  His eyes never left mine. “Ditto, love.”

  I growled in frustration. “Stop calling me that. You don’t mean it, so stop saying it.”

  “I mean everything I say,” he corrected. “It’s a term of endearment for a friend. I’d like us to be friends. We could be friends if you didn’t keep running away.”

  “Me?” I squeaked. “You’re the one who keeps putting up walls.”

  He leaned closer and touched the tip of my nose with his fingertip. “Wrong again, love. I just refuse to scale yours.”

  I swatted his hand away. “You’re infuriating!”

  “And you, darlin’, are the biggest pain in my ass.”

  “Then why do you keep coming back?” I asked. “Why do you insist we work together, or drag out our time together when you act like you can’t get away from me fast enough?”

  He let the question hang there before he said softly, “Why, indeed?”

  I spun away from him and merged with the wave of people milling toward the stage. I tried to get into the next two acts, but it was impossible. I kept scanning the crowd to see where Griffin was in a fervent prayer that he wouldn’t find his way to me through the throng of people in between us. I finally spotted him at the other side of the stage right as Catastrophe Rising was setting up their gear. He didn’t watch them. Instead he watched me. I ignored him purposefully while keeping him right in my peripheral vision. If he even moved one inch my direction, I was ready to bolt.

  Catastrophe Rising’s set was killer, with a blend of covers and original music. Eventually I noticed that Griffin stopped watching me to watch the band, especially Diego. He was impressed by Diego’s skill, it was written all over his face. I couldn’t help but wonder if his opinion would have changed knowing that Diego was my brother.

  “You’re the biggest pain in my ass,�
�� I kept hear him repeat over and over again in my head. “Probably because I’m the only one willing to call him on his shit,” I finally decided. He already said he couldn’t figure me out. Maybe he didn’t know what to make of the one female on the planet he couldn’t land into bed, even if he had wanted to, which he so clearly didn’t. This was fine by me. I didn’t care to be a notch on anyone’s bed post, much less someone who wasn’t fit to shine Jace’s shoes. Jace actually valued women beyond what he could get out of them.

  Griffin Slade was clearly incapable of that.

  No doubt he was at this concert because of the hot guitarist of Unapologetic B!tches. Maybe he hadn’t screwed her yet and was still gunning to get into her pants.

  Or maybe they had screwed, and she was going to slip into the warm spot recently vacated by Bryn.

  Either way, he was clearly incapable of showing up anywhere if there wasn’t something in it for the little Griffin in his pants.

  Once Catastrophe Rising had finished, I was ready to get the hell out of there. As I broke free from the crowd, I spotted Kamaria at one of the food trucks parked just outside. I dug out the CD I had and approached her to have her sign it. Before I could reach her, she squealed as she raced toward someone else in the audience. I stopped cold as she ran right into the arms of none other than Griffin Slade.

  He spotted me and waved me over. My feet followed before my brain could intervene. As soon as I got close, Griffin bent to tell her who I was. Her eyes widened as she opened her arms and pulled me into a powerful hug. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Jordi Hemphill has come to see me? I’m honored.”

  I shrugged off the praise. In my head she was way more talented than I could ever be. She was certainly more confident. I envied her as much as I was attracted to her.

  “She came to see Catastrophe Rising,” he informed her.

  “Oh, man, they really killed it. Our biggest competition, I think. I hope I’m not fraternizing with the enemy,” she joked as she gave me a playful side-eye glare.