Jonathan loomed over him. “Hah, you’re right.” He stabbed a finger at Jake’s chest. “When she’s finished playing with you she’ll choose someone who fits her talents better, like me, mate. So you hang on for all you’re worth Reedy ‘cause the come down is gonna to be fucking brutal.”
43. Balance of Power
Jesus Christ! Jonathan was right. Coming down after Rielle Mainline was going to be a white knuckle ride. Worse than anything Jake had been through with other relationships. Hell, he was still friends with most of the other girls he’d been involved with. Could he be friends with Rielle? Were they friends now?
In the last week, he’d somehow managed to forget the balance of power between them was so unequal. She was a superstar, and the world was interested in what she had for breakfast and he was just a roadie with a trade to fall back on. Next week she’d be in LA and he’d be working the phones looking for work.
Last night, having her so embedded in his world—far from the lights, the fashion and the craziness of rock stardom—had been like a dream come true. But in reality, what did they have in common, other than an all consuming lust and the tour schedule which was now in its last days?
So why was it that her kiss felt so much like the start of forever, when he should’ve known it was the beginning of the end?
Fuck, that Jonathan had been the one to remind him.
Jake watched the rest of the show in a daze, lost in the mastery of the band’s performance, of Rand’s musicianship and Rielle’s thrilling vocals. It washed over him in a haze of light and heat, sound and emotion. He tried to collect himself so when he saw Rielle next, he’d be wearing a disguise of his own—a mask that didn’t show how sick the prospect of losing her made him feel.
When the stage plunged into darkness after the third encore, the band came off on a high. Rand’s entourage was going berserk, as though they’d had a hand in the triumph. They’d spilled out of the green room and met the band in the backstage tunnel giving Harry’s cameras another spectacle to shoot, and the Sydney-based journalists in attendance additional colour for their stories. Tonight the party would be radical.
All Rielle wanted was Jake. She didn’t care about the rest of the band, about the after-party, about being starving hungry and wringing wet. When she came off stage she was swamped by Rand’s mates, and their wives and girlfriends. She couldn’t see Jake. After a show, he always gave her time to herself before he came to her. But she didn’t want to wait—she wanted him right now. She had to extract herself from the flow of people streaming towards the green room to make it to her dressing room.
As she’d fought her way clear, laughing and promising to come and join the party, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She smiled. He’d found her.
“You were on fire tonight,” said the wrong J.
“Thank you.” She smiled up into Jonathan’s face, but didn’t slow her pace.
“Come party.” He closed his hand around her arm, stopping her.
“Later. I want to get changed.” She pulled against him. He was holding her too tightly, and she could tell he’d been drinking.
“Nah. Come on, you can do that after.” Jonathan stepped into her space, his other hand going to her hair.
She dropped her voice and her smile. “Let me go now.”
“Ah Rie, don’t be like that. I’ve missed you. Come party with me.”
“I’m only going to tell you one more time. Let me go.”
Jonathan laughed. The hand not holding her bicep was now caressing her face.
Rielle sighed. “Remember, you asked for this.” She brought the flat of her palm up sharp and hard under Jonathon’s nose.
He clutched his face, reeling backwards, blood spurting through his fingers. “Bitch—you broke my nose!”
“No I didn’t.” There’d been no crush of bone under her hand. “But it’ll feel like it. Go ice it and don’t ever grab me again.” She watched him stumble in the other direction, blood now on his white shirt, calling for ice and a towel and sending a couple of wardrobe assistants scattering to do his bidding.
Then she saw Jake. He was a good twenty metres away and there were a dozen people between them, but he’d obviously seen what went down. His handsome face was creased with mirth. He sent a roadie with