Healing Melody (17 page)

Suzie looks at me and softly smiles. She shrugs and gives me a hug. “Okay, I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know you are, Suz.”

She glances at her phone. “Shit. I’m late.” She jumps from the piano bench and hurries out of the living room. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have fun with Brian,” I shout.

She shouts back from the kitchen, “It’s Bradley, Melody. Bradley!”

“Like Bradley Cooper?”

“I wish,” Suzie replies as she shuts the door behind her.

I laugh to myself. Mingus returns to his spot on the piano bench beside me. I rub his back then return to playing with the keys.
 

An hour passes as I continue searching for a song.

Tonight, I’m having trouble finding a tune. I can’t concentrate. I feel tense, worried.

I know why.
 

It’s Saturday night: the night of his fight. I wish I could see him in action. Is he beating the crap out of some guy? Or is he getting hit? He must be winning. I can sense it. He’s not holding back in the ring, or the cage, or whatever they call it. He seems like the type that never holds back. He definitely doesn’t in the bedroom, that’s for sure. I haven’t been fucked like this since… well never. He’s like an untamed animal in the sack.
 

What’s going on with me? Why can’t I stop thinking about him? It’s got to be because I haven’t been with anyone in such a long time. I’m projecting a bunch of stuff onto Kade. I’m sure that’s what my therapist would say, if I hadn’t fired her.
 

I’m projecting. Yeah, that’s it.
 

Kade’s an escort for crying out loud. I’m paying him to fuck me. It’s a very simple arrangement. So why am I complicating it? Why can’t I get him out of my head? I can’t stop thinking about him and the fight. Is he getting his leg broken again? Is his face all bloodied? Why do I care?

Mingus begins huffing. I turn and pick him up.

“You’re right, Mingus. I just have to put all this into my music. I can’t let Kade consume me.”

Mingus huffs again. I nod.

“I know. It’s going to be tough because he’s so gorgeous. But we’re from two different worlds. It would never work between us, except in the movies.”

Mingus barks.

I nod again in agreement.
 

“He is dark and mysterious. It’s true.”

Mingus licks my hand.
 

“Okay, enough of that.” I place him on the ground. I begin playing with the keys and something slowly begins forming. I follow the energy, see where it goes. Before I know it, I’m muttering some words and a verse begins to emerge.

A few hours later, I’m in my recording studio, singing into the mic. It’s a song about him. A song about who he’s fighting for – himself and the son he lost.
 

As I continue singing the words I have jotted on paper, I realize the song is also about me. How I’m not as strong as I thought I was. How I wish I had someone in my corner. Someone who believed in me unconditionally… besides Suzie. I wish I had a man who loved me for who I am now: the bare-boned and fragile me, a woman whose lost her beauty and can’t be redeemed by make-up.
 

When I’m done singing, I put together a rough mix and play it back. The song is raw, stripped down. It’s honest. I hear the fear in my voice. It chills me to the core.
 

Then I think about him and hope he’s all right, and not somewhere beaten, bloodied, and on the floor.

I’m kicking ass, and it feels great. Mitch Cork, my opponent, doesn’t know what to do. He comes at me with a jab, but I’m too fast. I hit him with a cross then sweep in with a high leg kick, knocking him off balance. He stumbles. Then I unleash a fury of punches. He falls down, and I go full press on the motherfucker, unleashing a ground and pound. The crowd outside the cage erupts. They’re cheering me on. Mitch’s face is bloodied and swollen.
 

If this were a professional fight, a referee would have called it by now. But we’re in the underground: him and me are going the distance.

I’m surprised Mitch still has some life in him. He thrusts his pelvis forward and hits me with a cross. I roll off him, and we both get to our feet.
 

We stare each other down, as the crowd around us grows hysterical. These people are bloodthirsty. They want more.

Mitch is breathing heavily. I don’t know how much more he has in him. I’m surprised by how good I feel. Sure, I’m exhausted. But I have more in the tank. I surge forward and jump, twisting my body. I hit him square in the jaw with a tornado kick.

Blood spurts out of his mouth as he falls to the floor. He’s out cold. Someone rushes into the cage to check on him. After a few moments, Mitch finally opens his eyes. He’s all right. But he lost.
 

The crowd outside the cage cheers. It takes me a moment to realize they’re chanting my name. I scan the sea of faces then stop when I see Shane. He’s grinning and gives me a nod.

I have a hunch I just made him a lot of money.

It’s been three days since the fight. I’ve thought about calling him to see how it went. Would that be foolish? Then I think about calling him to schedule another meeting. But I realize his body might need some time to recover from the fight. Sure, I’m paying him a lot of money to fuck me when I need it, but I don’t want to sound like some commanding bitch.

Recording that song about him has really peaked my interest. I want to get to know Kade on more than just a physical level. I’m drawn to him; I can’t deny it. There’s just something about him.

The doorbell rings. I put on my mask. As I enter the kitchen, I see Randy and Suzie. Suzie is holding a bottle of champagne. She shoots me a nervous smile.
 

“What’s going on?” I ask them.
 

“What’s going on?” repeats Randy, a smile beaming on her face. “You’re a fuckin’ genius! That’s what’s going on.”

I glance over at Suzie and notice she’s avoiding eye contact with me.

“Thanks for the compliment,” I reply, “But why do I have the sneaking suspicion I might not like the reason behind it?”

Randy turns to Suzie. “Suzie, pop that champagne and pour three glasses, please. We need to celebrate.”

I approach Randy, suspicious. “What exactly are we celebrating?”

Randy claps her hands ecstatically. “The label
loves
your new songs, especially the last one about the fighter. They want to start dropping them ASAP.”

A loud pop echoes throughout the kitchen. Suzie pours three glasses of champagne.

“But that’s not the best part,” continues Randy.
 

Suzie hands me my glass and whispers, “I just found out, Melody. You’re not going to like it.”

“Found out what?” I ask, now getting worried.

“They want to schedule a tour for this summer!” says Randy. She’s super excited.

My heart catches in my throat. I couldn’t have heard her correctly.

“What?”

Randy nods, her smile still beaming. “I know. Amazing, isn’t it? The label believes this could be the comeback of the century. They want to pull out all the stops. They don’t even want to wait until the album is ready.”

“Nobody cares about albums anymore,” says Suzie with a sad shrug.

“It’s true,” concurs Randy. “They want to release the songs as you write them. Do some music videos.”

“Music videos,” I repeat, my head spinning. Nervous tension ricochets through my body.

“Definitely one for that last song you wrote. That song is hot,” says Randy.

“It’s really good,” mutters Suzie. “I cried when I heard it. It’s your best song yet.”

I look at the two of them, shocked.

“This can’t be happening?” I say, lowering my head.

“I know, it’s incredible,” exclaims Randy. “After everything you’ve been through, you’re still going to be on top. You’re going back on tour!”

I look at Randy and see her staring at me, excited. I throw my glass of champagne straight at her face.

“Melody, what’s wrong with you?” she shouts.

“I’m not going out there. I’m not going on tour!” I cry.

I hurry out of the kitchen. The two of them follow me into the living room.

“I don’t understand,” says Randy. “This is great news.”

I whirl around. “How is this great news, Randy?”

“People still want to hear what you have to say. Don’t you realize how lucky you are?”
 

She clearly doesn’t realize the horrific panic I’m in.

I beat my fists into my legs, bend forward and scream.
 

“I want people to stop telling me how lucky I am! If I’m so lucky, then trade places with me. Would you do that, Randy? Would you put yourself out there and get every aspect of your appearance scrutinized? Deal with all the haters online commenting on how ugly you are?! Listen to them talk about your fuckin’ ugly face?! I’m the one who has to deal with that. Me. Not you. It’s easy to say I’m lucky when you get to watch me from the sidelines. You’re not the one standing in the burning white spotlight.”

I’m out of breath, exhausted. I take a seat on the couch. Randy and Suzie stare at me in silence. Randy wipes the champagne off her face with a towel.

“I’m sorry, Randy,” I mutter. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she replies. With a sigh she adds, “But I understand. Although you might not believe it, Melody, I do care about you. Yes, it’s true I work for you; but that’s not the only reason I’m here. I’m not like your mom and dad. I want to see you happy. You may not want to admit it, but you won’t be truly happy until you’re able to face the world again. We both know you can’t stop singing and writing songs. It’s in your blood. And what good is it to write such amazing music if nobody is ever going to hear it or see you perform?”

“I can’t go on tour. I’m not ready,” I plead looking up at her.

Mingus suddenly jumps on my lap. I rub his belly. Then, Randy takes a seat on the couch next to me.

“I just need more time, Randy. I can’t go out there yet. I’m scared. I just need more time”

Randy nods. “I know it’s not going to be easy.”

I can tell by the look in her eyes that there’s something else she wants to say, but she’s wavering. I turn to Suzie. She’s staring at the ground, and avoids looking at me.

“What is it? There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Randy finally manages to get it out. “I hate telling you this. Especially since I know you might not be ready. But based on the contract you have with the label, if they like the album, they can require you tour in a minimum of twelve markets.”
 

My jaw drops. “They can force me to go on tour?”

Randy closes her eyes and nods. “If you refuse to tour this summer, they can claim you’re in breach of contract and sue.”

“I have the label from fuckin’ hell, Randy! Why on earth would we ever agree to that?!”

Carrying Mingus in my arms, I angrily get up from the couch. I head to the window and look out, onto my backyard.

“It was part of the renegotiation we made four years ago with the label,” says Randy. “Unless you want to be dragged into court, I’m afraid you have no choice but to tour.”

“I can’t believe this,” I complain.
 

“Melody, I know you might not want to hear this,” says Suzie. “But I don’t think everyone is going to be mean to you. Sure, there are going to be some assholes, but just ignore them. People loved you before the accident, and when they hear these new songs, they’re going to love you again.”

I know Suzie means well, but I’ve stopped listening as she continues talking. I just stare out my window in a daze. I’m going to have to face the world.
 

I’m not ready.
 

I’m scared out of my mind.