Healing Melody (22 page)

“What’s the end game here, Melody?” Randy asks. “Because if you keep seeing this guy, you stand to lose everything. And his life will be made a living hell.”

There’s a long silence. I don’t want to make Kade’s life anymore painful than it already has been. I know first hand how cruel and disrespectful the paparazzi can be.

“If I do this video, do you think they will really leave him alone?” I ask.

Randy nods. “It’s our best chance. If we can get the public on our side, and have them sympathize with you, then I don't think they’ll bother him. Sure, they might follow him around for a couple of days. But if he's not a talker, they’ll just move onto the next story. The key here is to emphasize that you regret your actions. Admit you’ve made a mistake, and you're asking for forgiveness.”

“But I didn't make a mistake,” I repeat. “He helped me.”

Randy looks at me and sighs. “He’s an escort, Melody. You paid someone for sex. Perception is reality. If you don’t do this, the label will financially destroy you. And this guy, that you care so much about, will be on every trashy entertainment news outlet in the country, maybe even the world. His whole life, his entire backstory, will be put out there for everyone to see.”

I’m lying in bed thinking about Melody again. This isn’t about sex anymore. I’m feeling something more than just desire for her. But how could someone like me be with someone like her? I’m Shane’s whore for crying out loud. She’s a huge celebrity.
 

The only way I can be with Melody is if I’m my own man again. I need to stop being Shane’s slave. I need my life back. I need my gym.
 

Even though it pains me, I decide to throw the fight.

My cellphone rings. I quickly answer, hoping it’s her. But it’s my sister, Layla.

“You’re all over the news, Kade. Is it true? Are you an escort?”

I guess what Melody mentioned about the paparazzi has finally come to pass. This entire time, I’ve kept my arrangement with Shane a secret from my sister. I told Layla that Shane just wanted my gym in exchange for the money. Now, she finally knows the whole truth.
 

“It was part of the deal with Shane,” I tell her with a sigh. “I was embarrassed to tell you.”

“Is that the reason you never come around anymore?”

“Part of it,” I admit.
 

“I’m your sister, Kade. You should have told me.”

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“Have you seen the video?”
 

“What video?” I ask, surprised.

“The video that Melody made.”

“I didn’t know she made a video.”

 
“I’ll send it to you now.”

I get off the phone with Layla. Within a few seconds, I receive a text with a link to a video clip. Standing in my shitty studio apartment, I stare at my cellphone and see Melody’s face. She’s wearing her mask, something I had hoped she would stop doing after last night. As I listen to the video clip, I realize Melody has bigger issues to deal with.
 

“I want to apologize to all my fans,” she says in the video, her voice trembling. “In a moment of weakness, I made a mistake. Please forgive me. The one thing I do not want to lose is the love and adoration my fans have given me throughout the years. If you all didn’t stick by me, I don't think I would be able to step on stage again. My interactions with Mr. Turner occurred during a moment of loneliness. But now that I have music back in my life, I can leave that dark period behind and move forward to the next stage.”

I stop the video and toss my phone onto the nightstand. I take a seat on the bed. I knew something like this might eventually happen. Melody warned me about it. I’m just surprised by how much it stings. I don't care that people know that I’m an escort. I just want to know the truth: am I a mistake she made in a moment of weakness? I can’t be. Not after everything she told me. She said I saved her.
 

Last night didn't feel like a mistake. If anything, it proved to me that Melody and I were brought together for a reason. After Max died, I never thought I'd be happy again. When I made love to her at the gym, that's exactly how I felt. Happy. The sadness and depression I’ve been carrying inside me for so long were far off in the distance. As I held Melody in my arms, kissed her face, ravished her body, the sense of joy and gratitude flowing through me was overwhelming. Now, I'm wondering if it was all an illusion. Maybe Melody was acting. Maybe she was using me for what she needed, like so many of these Hollywood celebrities. And now, she’s finished with me.

I laugh sarcastically to myself. What was I thinking? Someone with my background could never be with a woman like her. Not in a real way. She hired me to fuck her. And I let myself get caught up in the emotion. I was stupid. I should've known better. I should have never opened up to her.

My cell phone rings. I reach over and grab it from the nightstand. It's her.

I don’t want to answer but know I must. “Hello.”

“Hi,” she says, her tone soft yet nervous. It kills me how much I love the sound of her voice. I’m going to miss it, because I know what this phone call is about before she utters another word.

“Something’s happened,” she says.

“Yeah,” I reply, “I’ve heard.”

There's a long silence.

“I saw your video clip,” I tell her.

She takes a moment before responding. I can tell she's searching for the words. “My agent made me do it,” she confesses.

“So, does that mean I'm not a mistake?”
 

“Of course not,” she blurts. “You're the best thing that could've happened to me.”

Upon hearing those words, my chest tightens. Fireballs of emotion surge up my throat. I want to tell her that she's the best thing that could've happened to me too. After being with her, I’ve realized my life still has meaning.

But then she starts talking, and I never get the chance to tell her how I feel.

“That's why it's so hard for me to say what I'm about to say, Kade.”

Here it comes: the knockout blow.

She takes a deep breath. The moment seems to last forever.
 

“I have to stop seeing you, at least for a little while,” she finally declares. I hear the sadness, the regret in her voice.
 
“With all the venues for my tour already booked, the record label is threatening to sue me if people start boycotting my shows. That's why I made that video. My agent hopes it can stop the story from getting any bigger.”

Although I understand why she needs to stop seeing me, it still hurts.

“I understand,” I mutter. I want to say more but I just can't find the words.

There’s another long silence. I hear her breathing softly.

“I never thought this would happen,” she says.

“That someone found out I'm a whore?” I reply. “You had said that was a possibility.”

“No,” she says with a sigh. “That you and me…” She takes a moment. “If it wasn't for you, Kade, I don't think I would…”

It’s strange to hear her at a loss for words. She’s a poet after all. “Yeah. You helped me out too,” I whisper, realizing she feels the same way. This wasn’t an illusion. What happened between us was real.

We were falling in love.
 

“I’m going to miss you,” she confesses.

“Me too,” I say softly.

There's a long silence. Neither one of us wants to get off the phone because we know it might be the last time we might talk.

“I want to wire you the next two hundred thousand.”

I cringe. Money is the reason we can't be together. I'm a whore, and she paid me to fuck her. We just never imagined it would become much more than that.

“You don't have to do that.”

“I want to,” she replies. “I know the money can help you start a new life. You can get out of the debt you’re under. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me. Please don’t refuse it.”

“Thank you.”

“There's one more thing,” she says. “I have to warn you: you might get hounded by the press for a couple of days. Randy says if you don't talk to them this should all blow over soon.”

“It won't be a problem. I won’t talk to them.”

Another long silence

“Thank you, Kade.” Her voice is cracking. She’s on the verge of tears. “You saved me.”

Then, she hangs up.

“You saved me too,” I mumble to myself.

I throw my cell phone against the wall. It shatters.

I look at the cracked and peeled ceiling. I fist my hands in a rage and punch the wall. I'm angry. I’m angry at myself for missing her already.

I guess it's a good thing I live in the ghetto. Even though the paparazzi want to talk to me, they don’t want to take any risks by driving into my hood. Unfortunately, my gym is in a nicer section of town. So when I show up this morning, the parking lot is swarming with people. As I get out of my piece-of-shit Corolla, reporters and paparazzi pound me with questions. I don't answer any of them. As I unlock the door, I tell them to go fuck themselves. I am never going to talk. Then I turn and walk into the gym.

They don’t get the hint.
 

Three hours later, they’re still hovering outside, and I’m the only one in the gym. I guess nobody wants to deal with a mob of paparazzi on their way to a workout. I can’t blame them.

I take advantage of the downtime by getting in a workout. Since I have nobody to spar with, I do some cardio and weight training. It feels good to unleash some of the anger that has built up inside of me.

I move to the punching bag and unleash a fury of kicks and jabs. My muscles burn and sweat pours down my face. I'm like a raging bull, mad at everything and everyone. I'm mad at the paparazzi and reporters swarming my gym. Melody and I should be none of their business. I'm mad at Shane for asking me to throw a fight, something I never thought I’d do. And most of all, I'm mad at Melody, for meeting her, getting to know her, and falling for her. Then I get angry with myself because I should've known better. I should never have let my emotions get the better of me.

I unleash one last round of kicks and jabs on the punching bag. Then, I stop to catch my breath. The front doorbell jingles, and I am shocked to see my sister, Layla, walk in. I smile as she approaches me. It's nice to see a friendly face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I’ve been calling you. You haven’t been answering.”

“I broke my phone.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I stopped by your place and you weren’t there. So I came here.” She turns and glances at the reporters still hovering in the parking lot. “How long have they been here?”

“All morning,” I reply. “You didn't talk to them, did you?”

Layla shakes her head. “I have nothing to say to them.”

“Good,” I say with a nod. “If they don't get any info, I'm hoping they’ll disappear.”

I notice Layla staring at me, annoyed. “I’m pissed at you.”

“Why?”

“Because you weren’t honest with me from the beginning. How come you didn't tell me, Kade?”

“About me and Melody?”

She shakes her head. “About what Shane was making you do?”

I shrug. “I told you already. Being a whore is not exactly something you brag about, is it?”

She sighs then says, “Fine, but no more secrets. What about you and Melody?”

“What about us? It's over.”

“Is that why you're trying to shred that punching bag?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Layla holds up her hands. “Fine. Men are so annoying,” she says.

Then she looks at me. I can tell by the expression on her face that she’s struggling with something.

“What is it?”

Layla takes a few steps toward me. “Monique showed up to the house last night,” she finally says. “She's been trying to find you.”

I don't know how to respond. When Max was in the hospital and asked to see his mother, I tried to fulfill his wish and even enlisted Shane's help to find her. But after an extensive search, it looked like Monique had disappeared, vanished. Her parents knew nothing of her whereabouts. Word on the street was that her drug addiction had grown so bad, so life-threatening, that she was probably dead.