Healing Melody (14 page)

I’m stunned by his proposal.

If my deal with Melody checks out, and Shane keeps his word, I’ll be debt free much sooner than I expected. I won’t be Shane’s whore anymore. I’ll finally be a free man.
 

“You’re serious? A hundred grand off my debt?”
 

Shane slowly nods. “Fight this weekend and a couple of others I got lined up.”

The thought of being debt free is an opportunity I can’t pass up.

“Can I get the word out that you’re fighting this Saturday?” Shane asks.
 

I nod. “Let’s do it.”

He slaps my back and heads toward the door.

“Just one thing,” I tell him as he’s about to leave.
 

He turns around.

“I can’t do any sessions for the website this week. I’ve only got five days to train.”

Shane hesitates for a moment. I can tell he doesn’t like my request but agrees.
 

“Fine, but you better win, Kade. Cause now you’re costing me money.”

He opens the door and motions to Vince and Leo that it’s time to go.

As I listen to the playback on the last song I recorded, I realize I’m breaking new ground. The lyrics are more thoughtful, the music more ambitious. The label probably won’t like the direction I’m heading in. I assume they want something more pop-like.

Randy says I’m contracted to deliver an album of at least twelve songs. The contract doesn’t mention that the label has to like them. So, if that’s the case, I don’t have to write songs that I think will be popular. I can spend my time writing songs that I actually think are good.
 

These last couple of days, the songs have just been pouring out of me. I’m spending most of my days and nights in my home studio, recording myself playing the piano, strumming guitar, and layering in beats. I’ve just finished song number five and I
really
like it. I’ll listen to it again tomorrow. I just have to remind myself not to tinker on the song as much as I used to.
 

I’ve always been a perfectionist.
 

And when it comes to my music, I inevitably hear mistakes. Good is never good enough. A song can always be made to sound better. After the accident, my therapist, Jeannie, said that was something I needed to work on. I needed to stop chasing perfection and just let things be. At first, I thought she was talking about my appearance. But now I realize it might also apply to my music. After all, sometimes it’s the minor imperfections in a song that make it memorable. Maybe Jeannie wasn’t a terrible therapist after all. Too bad I fired her.

I step out of my recording studio and make my way to the piano in my living room. At the piano is where I usually discover a song. Taking a seat, I begin playing with the keys and close my eyes. I let myself settle into the moment, into my own breath. I treat this like a form of mediation. I don’t force anything to come; I just let whatever wants to bubble to the surface make its way to my fingertips or my lips.
 

What flashes through my inner landscape are images of Kade. My lips curl into a smile as I remember his face, his body. That fella was exactly what the doctor ordered. He’s hot, dark and mysterious: a killer combination. And most importantly, he knew how to be with a woman. He knew how to stay in the moment, and be just the right amount of rough. The sex wasn’t mechanical. It didn’t feel like he was auditioning for a porn movie, which is the case with a lot of the young studs today. It was passionate, hot and dirty. While we were fucking, I got the impression Kade actually appreciated my body, like he wanted to savor it and not just fuck. With all these damn scars, I wasn’t expecting that at all. I’m still surprised by how comfortable I felt in his presence, especially when I was naked, my scars in plain sight. There’s more to this guy than just a tough exterior and a ripped body. He has presence, depth.
 

Suzie tried to convince me it was Mingus that brought forth my recent inspiration. I have to admit, I like having Mingus in my life. But I know deep down that cuddly puppy isn’t the reason for my creative spurt. It’s Kade. His presence awoke something in me. After having sex with him, I felt like a woman again and not the victim of a horrible accident. I know I can never go back to being the old Melody, but Kade’s alpha energy woke me up. He brought forth a desire that made me realize I’m still living, breathing, flesh. I’m still horny and desire a man’s touch. Kade fucked me with care and made me grateful to still be alive. After months of contemplating suicide, that’s a big fuckin deal.

Now, if I could just get the courage to leave this house and face the world again…
Baby steps, Melody.

I play with the piano keys a bit more then open my eyes. I glance at the television hanging on the wall and am surprised to see my face on TV. Not my new face, but the pre-accident version of me. I marvel at my unblemished skin, my perfect nose and chin, my luscious lips.
 

Damn, I used to be hot.
 

I reach for the remote resting on the piano and un-mute the television.

“It’s been more than a year since pop sensation, Melody Swanson, has been seen in public,” comments the entertainment news anchor. “After suffering a horrifying car crash, sources say she’s turned into a recluse and refuses to leave her Hollywood Hills mansion. But it appears the reclusive star is taking in some late-night visitors. Recent photos show a mysterious man visiting Melody’s mansion late at night and not leaving until early the following morning. Who is he? Call into our station if you have any leads. Because like we always say here at StarCentral: ‘You have a right to know’.”

I click off the television and sigh. “No, you don’t have a right to know,” I groan. I start wondering whether signing Kade to a contract was a bad idea. The last thing I want to deal with are paparazzi swarming my house again. After the accident, they were camped outside my home every day for months. Only the last three months or so have been relatively civil.
 

I glance at the floor. “What do you think, Mingus? Should I stop seeing him?”

I’m surprised Mingus isn’t in his usual spot, near my feet. Then I hear him barking in the distance. I get up and make my way to the kitchen. Mingus is scratching the backdoor and jumping up and down. He needs to go outside.
 

I shake my head, disappointed with myself. I’ve been so obsessed with my music the last couple of hours that I’ve completely forgotten to take him out. I’m grateful he hasn’t made a mess on my floor. I run back to my bedroom and slip on my mask.
 
Then I grab Mingus’s leash. When he sees me, he starts yapping excitedly.

“You really have to go, huh buddy?”

Mingus barks a reply. I snap the leash around his collar and open the door. Mingus immediately yanks me out with him. I’m relieved high bushes surround my backyard, providing much needed privacy.
 

Mingus drags me all over the yard, looking for the perfect spot to do his business. As he sniffs one place after another, I think about Kade again. Should I stop what I was planning with him? What if the media finds out he’s an escort? It would ruin my reputation. But then again, my reputation has already been ruined. That car accident killed off the old Melody. She’s never coming back. Nobody is going to want to see my new face on television, much less pay to see me on tour. From this moment forward, what should matter is what I want, what I need. And right now, I need him. I need to see him again.
 

Suddenly, I hear a noise coming from one of the bushes. Someone is shuffling around behind them. I pull on Mingus’s leash. “Mingus, come.” But he’s too busy sniffing the ground around him to obey me. The rustling behind the bushes grows louder.

“Damn it,” I hear a man curse.
 

Someone’s on my property! He’s hiding in my bushes!

I freak out. I drop Mingus’s leash and run inside. I head straight to my bedroom and grab the gun from my nightstand. Flashbacks to that crazy guy, James, that I found in my kitchen years ago race through my mind. I can’t take any chances. Holding the gun, my hands tremble with fright. I run back through my kitchen. I’ve never fired it. But there’s always a first time for everything.
 

When I rush outside, I see him. He’s in the middle of my backyard and Mingus is snapping at his legs.
 

My heart catches in my chest. I can’t believe it.
 

It’s him: Charlie, that paparazzi motherfucker.
 

The guy who followed me during the night of the accident is standing in my backyard; the son-of-a-bitch who took pictures of me while I was burning up in flames; the asshole, who rather than help me out of my car and save my life, was more interested in taking pictures of my impending death.

With his camera slung over his shoulder, he’s trying to calm Mingus down. Mingus must sense Charlie’s an asshole because he won’t leave him alone. He’s growling and trying to bite him.

“Easy fella,” Charlie hisses.

“Get the fuck away from my dog!” I shout as I point my gun at him.

Charlie looks up. He’s about to snap a picture. But when he sees the gun, his eyes widen, and he quickly lowers his camera.
 

“Get the fuck off my property, or I swear to God I’ll shoot your head off.”

My hands are still shaking, but I mean every word. There’s one person I wouldn’t hesitate to kill; and it’s this grizzly bearded motherfucker.

“Go!” I scream. With my gun still raised and pointed at him, I take several steps forward. Charlie quickly turns around and runs back into the bushes. His large frame vanishes. I listen closely as he scurries away.
 

When I’m sure he’s gone, I breathe once again. My heart is pounding in my chest. Mingus comes to my side, dragging his leash behind him. I quickly scoop him up. With Mingus in one hand, and my gun in the other, I hurry inside. I close the door and make sure the alarm is on.
 

I’m a bundle of nerves. Why won’t the paparazzi just leave me alone? Particularly that asshole? It’s like his mission is to ruin my life. Now, I regret not shooting him when I had the chance.

Mingus yelps.

“Whatever, he deserves it,” I tell him.

I place Mingus down, unfasten his leash, and walk to my bedroom. I put the gun back in the drawer and take a seat on my bed. My hands are still shaking. I think about calling the police and telling them that Charlie trespassed onto my property. But then I realize that would only bring on more media attention. That’s the last thing I want.
 

I’m frightened. Feeling vulnerable. I really don’t want to be alone right now. I pull my cellphone out of my jacket pocket. I’m about to call Suzie and tell her what happened, ask her to come over. But I stop myself. I realize who I really want to call is him. I want him here, by my side. I want to feel his strong arms around me. I want to feel safe, protected, not alone.

If they get pictures of him coming over, I’ll only be providing more fodder to the very paparazzi I loathe. But I don’t care. I’m sick and tired of being by myself. The other night, with him, was the first time I’ve been happy since the accident.
 

Fuck, the paparazzi. I’m tired of them ruling my life.

I dial his number.
 

As the phone rings, I take a deep breath. When he answers and says hello, I’m surprised by how nervous I suddenly feel. Then I realize how foolish I’m being. After all, I just offered him a contract to have sex with me.
 

“It’s me, Melody,” I finally say.

He sounds taken off guard and takes a moment to respond.
 

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks.

Just hearing his voice calms me a little. He sounds strong, tough.

“Am I calling at a bad time?”

“No. Not at all.”

I’m waiting for him to say more, but he doesn’t. There’s a long silence.
 

“Have you had a chance to think over what Suzie presented to you?” I finally ask.

“Yeah.”
 

“And?”
 

“It sounds good.”
 

Kade isn’t much of a talker. But I don’t care. I just want his strong presence in my life right now. And I’ll take his body while I’m at it.
 

“Good. And what about getting tested?” I ask.

“I already have. I’ve got the results. All clear.”
 

A smile quickly forms on my lips.

“That means we can begin our arrangement immediately.” I’m somewhat surprised by the excited tone in my voice.

He doesn’t respond.

“Is there a problem?” I ask.

“No. No problem. It’s just that I have to train for a fight this weekend. Any chance we can meet at night?”

“Like tonight?” I put forth.
 

“Damn, that’s fast,” he says.

I know it is. But I really don’t want to spend the night alone. What if Charlie comes back onto my property? But that’s not the only reason I want Kade to come over.
 
I wasn’t exaggerating when I said Kade awoke something in me. After having sex with him, I felt alive for the first time since the accident. I don’t want that feeling to end. “I know it’s last minute, Kade,” I say into the phone. “But can you be at my place at 9 pm and bring the signed contract?”