Forgetting Popper (Los Rancheros #3) (9 page)

“Popper how the hell are ya? Last time we
were all together was—”

“Four years ago. And you guys can call me
Sadie. That’s my real name. Since I’m not part of the band anymore
you’re stuck with me.”

Fandy shakes his head. “I like you better
already, sista.”

“Yeah, sister,” Danny says a second too late,
making us all laugh.

“Cut!” someone yells, making me jump. “That
was just great. I had no idea you had this chemistry between you.
Popper, are you going to want to have the show introduce you as
Sadie? Everything needs to stay consistent.”

“Absolutely, and please call me Sadie.” I
lick my lips after I say it, nervous again to put myself out there
without the barrier of Popper’s façade.

“That’s great. Sadie, come this way. We’re
going to do individual shots first.” I’m put in front of fans and
bright lights, my hair and makeup people constantly running in
between shots to adjust me. They remind me of the kids that chase
down balls in tennis, settling to one side before sprinting to the
ball and end up on the other, waiting to do it all over again for
as long as they have to.

In my leather pants, red flannel shirt tied
around my waist, leather jacket, and white tank top I feel about as
sexy as I’ve ever felt, aside from when Batty is making me scream.
My high heel pumps are classy, like nothing I’ve ever worn before,
and I never want to take them off. My eyes start wandering to look
for Batty, wondering if he’ll let me keep them on one night.

“Whoa! That’s hot. Hold that pose, hold it,
hold it. Okay, now give me the other side of your face, doll,” the
photographer says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

After the photo shoot, we sit down for
interviews that take another two hours. Afterwards, I overhear the
producers having a disagreement with Fandy and Daniel about what
songs we could do as an opening act to the show. No one wants to do
any songs with a strong female lead, and can’t agree on any of the
sucky songs being suggested. I take a deep breath to prevent myself
from barging in there like a wrecking ball, but I want someone’s
head.

Shortly after that, they take a break for the
production team to look over what footage they have, stating they
will call us back if they need us before we can leave for the day.
After eating greasy food with Jacque, I get touched up again and am
set free to roam the set. I find holding rooms for the contestants
that are still being painted, and offices and equipment, before
ending up back at the stage from the other side. I think about
walking out in front of the crowd, the cameras, and people judging.
Sounds like another fucking day to me, but to someone not used to
it I imagine it would be terrifying.

I slip the guitar strap over my shoulder
before I realize I’ve moved. I press the power button on an amp and
plug in the bass guitar that is one of the props on the stage. Dun,
dun dun dun dun. Dun, dun dun dun. My hands find the song in my
head and I stop to take off the red shirt tied at my waist because
it’s making the guitar sit weird. I pace, picking up the beat
again.

Fandy comes in somewhere along the way,
joining his electric guitar to mine. He says the first words of the
song and the hair stands up on my arms. “It ain’t a needle in the
vein…” I close my eyes and get into the song, feeling the words
that we’re all supposed to live by, that any musician should feel
and most of us forget. At the chorus, Danny’s found us with his
acoustic guitar, and I sing for the first time in public. It’s not
shouting, but it’s loud. It’s rock and roll.

Danny picks up the rapping parts, to my
surprise, and I join in at the end, letting my power shine through.
Fandy grabs the next verses as Danny and I jam back to back,
leaning against each other. When we start playing with the chorus
at the end, I go for broke and rattle the lights with my last ‘rock
and roll’ just before the symbols would crash, if we had a drummer.
I laugh and throw my hands up like I’ve just won a trophy as Fandy
and Daniel playfully bow down to me. I hug the guys for the second
time that day, which is weird for me, since I’m not a touchy
person. I guess it’s the new leaf thing I’m trying out. When I take
off the guitar and set it on the stand, I finally hear the
cheering. Looking around, I see the crew has filled the bottom rows
of the stands and around the stage . . . and they’re clapping, for
us. One man front and center snags my attention, and he’s clapping
the slowest.

BATTY-

I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on
than I am watching Sadie perform. The energy is practically
sparking off of her. I want to make her sing to me, maybe naked in
her bed. Or maybe in her favorite chair. It’s smoky and raspy. I
knew she had a phone sex voice before, but I swear I can feel her
voice like nails down my back. Like teeth on my dick. She sounds
like danger and recklessness, and a fuck of a lot of sex. Sunday
suddenly seems entirely too far away.

“That was freaking amazing. Do you think you
can do that every show?” The producer jogs next to me as I stalk to
my trailer. In the far back corner of the lot. Oh how the tables
have turned.

“Sure,” I agree quickly before cutting my
eyes to her.

“But . . .” she trails off
apprehensively.

“No buts. I want a legitimate trailer like
the big boys back there.” I toss my head to the rows behind us
before continuing.

“And?” she asks expectantly.

“Okay, there is an and. I want more for each
performance.” She tries for a rebuttal but I put up a hand as I
stop at my trailer.

“No. You can’t tell me that they’re getting
paid ten times as much as I am. I want my cut. Make it happen.” I
don’t wait for a response before I climb the rickety stairs leading
into my humble abode.

I run my hand through my newly reddened hair
and look at myself in the mirror. I allow myself a fist pump. That
performance freaking rocked.

“Pretty happy with yourself, I see.”

I spin to see Batty in all of his suited
glory.

“It kicked ass. Don’t come in here and tear
me down. I know I rocked that,” I say in automatic defense. He
holds up his hands in surrender.

“On the contrary, my dear Sadie. I dare say
you shocked the socks off of everyone,” he drawls.

“Except you.” I watch as his eyes roll. “Oh
please. You think I didn’t notice your lack luster applause.”

He advances quickly. “Oh, that’s right,
Sadie. Would you rather I stand up on chairs and shout? What would
satisfy you, hmm? Because I can think of a few things,” he says
with a twinkle in his eyes. I don’t trust that twinkle and force my
legs to take a step back. Right into the makeup counter.

“So seeing me perform makes you hot? Good to
know,” I force between numb lips. My heart pounds. He brings a hand
to my face and brushes the heavy weight of my hair over my
shoulder.

“Oh yes. Seeing you perform in all of your
glory, yours Sadie, has me nearly busting through my suit. I want
to send this piece of shit trailer rocking, don’t doubt it.”

I swallow, with difficulty. The promise in
his eyes
nearly
makes mine cross-eyed. I mean really, who
says
nearly?

“So you want to fuck? You push my assistant
out of my residence because you want a piece, is that it?” I shoot
back.

“Shut up,” he growls, fisting my hair. I pull
away violently.

“No. You shut up. I proved myself on your
little show, and I’m not your plaything.” I remove my body from in
front of him, sliding to the side and fisting a bottle of water
unconsciously.

“Oh, that’s right. I should have asked who
has this trailer. Is it Popper?”

I narrow my eyes and hold up a bottle. “It
would serve you right. Let me pelt you with this really quick with
your entourage out there to see you exit.”

He nods with a pursing of his lips and
shrugs. “You can throw that bottle at me, or we can do something
more productive.”

“Great. Since you’re in a suit, do you have
something for me to sign?”

He takes a deep breath, tugging his pristine
tie in the process. “Of course. If that’s how you want to play it.”
He pulls out a stack of documents from his jacket. “I had the
office send over a confidentiality agreement for your new
assistant, Jack.”

“Jacque,” I correct.

“That’s what I said.”

“No—” I protest before he advances on me
faster than I can react.

“Yes. Now listen. On Sunday, I want you to be
ready. Because you seem to be rather . . . hasty today in assuming
my intentions, I have a need to warn you.” He licks his bottom lip,
and I watch. Fuck, it’s riveting. “Sunday is our day. If Jack is
there when we get to your house, I’ll fucking kill him. Do you
understand what I’m saying, Sadie?”

“Yes, Batty.” I can’t help the breathless
tone of my voice. He’s right in my face with all of his scruffy
suit and tie swagger. It shouldn’t even go together. Where is his
clean-shaven face? I forcefully prevent my thoughts from thinking
what those whiskers would do to me, if he just bent his knees.

I fall back on the tried and true. “Get
out.”

“You keep kicking me out, baby.” He smirks.
“But that shirt doesn’t hide your nipples. Best fix it before Jack
comes in.”

“Jacque,” I protest in vain. He’s already
gone.

I throw my ID at the woman behind the
desk.

“Well, hello to you too, Sadie,” she
grumbles.

“Hey, Alyse.”

“He’s already in there, in case you were
wondering.”

“He always is,” I mumble, pocketing my ID and
snapping the visitor’s badge on my shirt.

When the doors open to the cancer ward, I
make my rounds visiting parents and patients, doctors and nurses.
Friends. In the past four months, I’ve made them my Sunday family.
I don’t, however, see Batty.

Moving to the critical care patients, I slip
into a door I’ve been dreading.

“Hey, guys,” I say quietly. The room is
filled with cousins, aunts, uncles, and most importantly, the
parents.

“Hi, Robin. Thanks for coming,” the mom says
quietly, moving to me and shaking my hand.

“How’s our girl today?” I ask, facing the
little bit of nothing swallowed by tubes and blankets.

“She’s . . . hanging in there. She’s strong,”
mom says with a hitch in her chest. I put my arm around her and
look around the room at all of the balloons and flowers.

“This is beautiful, having so many people
care about her. She knows,” I reassure the parents and watch as
their eyes become glazed and unseeing. This is the reason I hate
this place, but also the reason I keep coming back. The little
girl, no more than five years old, blinks her eyes open. I watch
them focus on me, and I know it’s time.

“There she is!” I practically yell through
the room. I move swiftly to the bed, cutting off the people
closest. “How are you, Ella?”

The little girl swallows, her big grown eyes
engulfing her pale face. “I’m good,” she breathes. I take in the
tube through her nose then the IVs at her arms and under her
shirt.

“Do you want to build a snowman?” I whisper
for only her to hear. Her eyes take on a bright hue. She nods.
“Let’s go, Princess.”

I nod to the parents, who leave to sign
doctors’ orders. The rest of the family leave for their cars, with
smiles in place.

“Your chariot awaits.” It’s Batty. I knew he
wouldn’t fail me.

After the nurses disconnect the little girl
from her tubes, we’re off. The parents know ahead of time that
Batty only has a two seater, and it’s illegal for all of us to ride
in his car, but they always agree. I hold the little girl’s head
against the shifting of the car’s transmission as it changes gears,
and before long we’re there.

I blink at the set up before us. I’ve learned
never to doubt him, but damn. The ice skating rink is set up in
twinkling lights and undertones to illuminate the rink. I place the
skates on Ella, plus a few pieces to make her feel pretty and we’re
off.

Okay, so I’m not that great at ice-skating.
More like I’m falling down more than she is and we’re not moving
very much. I almost swallow my tongue when Batman cuts the ice in
front of us.

“Princess Ella, may I have this dance?”

Her family is skating all around us. The
little girl nods, her blonde wig bobbing over her bald head. Batty
takes her hand in his much bigger one, and they start out in a
long, straight line.

The little girl stays on her skates as long
as possible, which really isn’t long at all. Before she can
collapse, Batty swings her up in his arms in the classic Cinderella
hold.

I move toward them, and not knowing what else
to do, I start singing. “Let It Go” comes out of my mouth as I do
the one move I’m capable of, which is to say I stopped moving all
together. I play Anna, and belt my heart out as she sings much
quieter. Batty circles me, so that I’m always in her line of
vision, and we give this little girl her last dream.

I smile at the little bundle wrapped in a
black cape and give her everything I have. Her little blonde wig
sways in the breeze as her family provides the chorus to our duet.
They know the song, little Ella is obsessed with the movie, hence
this performance. We spin until the lights are streaks in the
sky.

When we finish, Ella’s little cheeks are rosy
and her brown eyes are bright. Batty has to come to me, because I
would have fallen on my ass if I tried to come to them. Her little
arms wrap around me with much more strength than I was expecting.
She nearly causes me to lose my balance, but Batty wraps a hand
around my waist and I get my feet under me.

“That was beautiful, Ella. Do you want to
skate some more?” I ask. She nods, and Batty takes off. We all clap
as he shows off his moves. He never ceases to amaze me.