Next came a rocking segment with him and Stu; another of How pounding the drum kit, his sweat flying. A lovely close up of Ceedee standing in the wings waiting to come on stage showed her steadying herself and then stepping into the bright lights, and a two shot of Brendan and Jeremy had them seductively bathed in speckled lighting effects.
Now Harry had Martin’s full attention, because some of that would make great cut-aways. He abandoned his pen popping; he was staring at the screen, not moving. Rand watched Martin change his mind about what he was seeing. He changed his too. They’d go ahead tonight.
He heard Jake slip into the back of the room with a quick “Hi,” in time to see a shot of himself and Rielle backstage. On the screen Rie pinched his arm and he pulled her hair and they both laughed and stepped forward into the wings ready to go on.
In the room they both laughed too. Harry had captured the push and pull essence of their relationship in that one quick sequence. He looked at Rie and his throat got clogged. He sipped some water but you couldn’t wash away pride so easily. She was his little sister and she was mess-up scared, and she was awesome.
Harry’s final sequence was Rie and Ceedee rehearsing their pole routine. It was the night there’d been dead moths all over the stage floor. This must’ve been earlier. On screen the girls went through their stuff as the Bogongs blew in. The way Harry had captured this, the moths seemed to take on a mystical quality as they fluttered about the two dancers, high on their silvery poles. The whole thing made Rand itchy as he watched Rie continue to rehearse alone, chasing perfection. She looked like a powerful witch, an otherworldly being, charming nature itself when the moths invaded her.
“Cool,” he said.
“Extraordinary,” said Martin. He was standing, transfixed.
Rand looked at Harry and she blew him a kiss.
From where Jake stood at the back of the room, he could see Rielle’s profile. She had her heels on the chair rung and was hugging her knees with her chin tucked down, her mouth open in wonder and her eyes locked on the screen. She was seeing this for the first time and she loved it.
He swallowed as he recalled how dry his mouth was that night and how he felt when he stood close to her and brushed Bogongs from her hair, like he wanted to lay down his life and worship her. And everything that made him feel that way, uncomfortable, surprising and raw, was there on the screen.
He was so intent on watching the real Rielle, he almost missed the shot of himself. Harry’s crew captured him gazing at his moth goddess with a look of pure adoration on his face. The tenderness of the scene where he almost held her, and deliberately tangled his hands in her hair, hit him with a force that knocked the air out of him. He leaned back against the wall because his knees might not hold him.
He was in love with this woman. With her goddess and her bitch, with her tough rock chick persona, and with the self she didn’t even want to be.
Rielle dropped her legs and spun to him, her eyelids flaring, shock in the set of her shoulders. Their eyes met, but Jake couldn’t handle the pointed intensity of her focus. He pushed the door behind him and stumbled out of the room, blinking in the brighter light of the corridor. He should’ve kept moving, should’ve bolted, because he wasn’t ready to face her. She came through the door and flung herself in his arms.
Shocked, he caught her, but pushed her away, his hands at her waist, bending to bring his face level with hers.
She thrust her chin up. “You and I have a thing. We’re not done yet.”
He shook his head. “Rie, we tried. It’s not meant to be.”
“That look in there with the moths, it was after that awful night together—after it. You looked at me like that, like you’re freaking in love with me and you’re going to stand here now and tell me it’s nothing.”
He dropped his gaze to the carpet. He couldn’t face that truth. “I like you, Rie; I admire you. I’ve never hidden that.”
She pushed him and he took a step back. “You’re a liar, Jake Reed.”