Mistake.
That's not the right word for what happened with Asher.
Passionate fits better.
Overwhelming. Deep. Greedy. Desperate. All those words fit better than mistake.
Between Asher and me, there was no error. We both did what we wanted, taking from each other what we needed. It's outside of Asher and me that we've done something forbidden – broken some part of the bodyguard code of conduct. Maybe I could be accused of abusing my position of power too. Even though I should regret it, I can't.
When Asher was inside me, I felt complete. His hands told me everything that his drawing represented was true. His words whispered in my ear settled a restless part of me. Everything about it was perfect, except being discovered.
At the end of the song, the crowd roars, hands clapping and waving above their heads.
There is a sea of phones fixed on me, recording the person they think I am. Luna Evans, pop star diva. They don't capture the churning in my belly or the brittleness I feel. Behind the booty shorts and torn pantyhose, I'm just someone's daughter. I’m a woman barely out of girlhood who half the time feels like I can crush the world in my palm, and the other half is afraid to make a decision about what to eat without assistance.
"This next song isn't on my album," I say, as my mind catches up to my mouth. What the hell am I doing, deviating from the plan? Behind me, I can practically hear the band's thoughts. What the fuck? We haven't rehearsed anything that isn't on the album. But suddenly, all I can think about is singing the little song I wrote in when my brother Jake died. The one that poured out of me, tasting of blood and familial love that was lost.
I don't need the band for this. I don't need the dancers. All I need is my voice. At the side of the stage, Ben and Elijah are standing guard. Ben has a stool to take the weight off his leg when he needs to, and I want that stool. I jog to toward him, and he stands ready to do whatever I need of him. That's what they're like, my bodyguards. Ready to lay their lives on the line for me. Ready to service my every whim. I shouldn't enjoy that fact as much as I do, or resent the limitations to their relationship with me.
"Are you okay?"
"I need the stool," I mouth, and smile as he hands it to me. "I need to talk to you later," he says, forgetting that my mic is on and the whole stadium can hear.
"Sure." I beam as widely as I can as I stride back to the middle of the stage, pretending that Ben didn't just request a private conversation in front of half of Greece and the rest of my bodyguards. That's how bothered he is about what he saw.
He might as well just have announced everything about last night in front of the whole of Steel 7.
I drop the stool near the front of the stage and perch on the edge, blinking as the spotlight zones in on me.
"I wrote this song when I felt like my life had been shattered. Sometimes, the only way to get through the tough times is to plow our pain into something beautiful."
The crowd cheers again, because who hasn't lived through pain in some way or another?
I begin to sing the words.
The chair will never know the shape of you again.
The bed will never feel your weight.
My heart will never heal because you're gone.
And I'm left to live on.
All I can do is hope that one day,
we'll meet,
in another place,
another time.
And I can tell you all the things I stored inside,
imagining that I will tell you in life,
what you mean to me.
Looking up for the first time since I began singing, I realize that the whole stadium is silent, craning to listen, holding phones high to record the words that up until now have been private to me. My throat tightens, but I continue, my voice rising, rending open my chest with the memories of my brother's face. I close my eyes again, dwelling in the song, then trying to pull myself out of the pain, finding solace in the memories from last night. Asher's touch, the weight of his body on mine; everything made me feel better, bigger, stronger.
And at the end, when I drop my head, allowing my long intricate braid to flop over the top, I know.
The only way that I'm going to get through this tour without being dragged back into the negative place that my life was in before I was discovered by Blueday is with men in my bed. Sex helps me forget my worries. I can work out my frustrations and find inner peace. I need a distraction. I need a Band-Aid for my emptiness.
I can fuck my pain away with seven men whose job it is to take care of me. Taking care of my body in public and private will be their mission.
Sandy's not the only girl who can have a harem of men at her disposal. And mine will keep it a secret because they have as much to lose as I do.
Ben can talk to me all he wants about what Asher and I did – the wrongness of it – but when he does, I'll show him just how right it felt.
I'll drag these men into my web, like a black widow spider. I'll eat them up, satisfying my hunger with their bodies, pushing down all the fears I have with their cocks.
I'll drown in their passion and be smothered by their weight.
And when this tour is done, and I can finally go home, I'll have to find a way to deal with everything that I've been burying for too long.
When the performance is over, I'm hurried backstage and to my dressing room, finding Mo, with his kind black eyes, standing guard. At least now, I can be confident that I'm not going to find anything funky in my room. The thought of that bloody underwear sends a shiver through my sweaty body.
"I need another shower," I announce, strutting into the bathroom and slamming the door, content to leave the six men out there to wallow in whatever conversation is going to happen in my absence. I don't switch on the shower immediately, though, choosing to press my ear against the door, straining to hear whatever I can. Almost immediately, Connor growls, "What the fuck was that out there?"
"Fuck."
I'm assuming it's Ben who swears. He must not have intended Connor to know about Asher and me. He must have been hoping to keep it a secret. I guess I should respect him for that. No one likes a snitch, especially among friends.
"Fuck, what?" I picture Connor's face screwed up and angry, covering the deep worry he has about what's going on with his crew.
"It's not my information to share," Ben says. "Can you just leave it?"
"If it's something that can negatively affect Steel 7 or Luna, then no, I can't leave it."
"I'm in a situation where I know something that I shouldn't know and sharing it just wouldn't be fair."
There's a pause, and my heart thuds against my ribs, waiting for Connor's reaction.
"For us to work as a group – as friends and work colleagues – we have to be honest about things. Keeping secrets risks our safety and security. You know this."
"I know, Connor. I do. I just…"
Deciding that putting Ben in this position for any longer isn't fair, I throw open the door and stride out. "What Ben is trying desperately not to share is that me and Asher fucked last night," I blurt without regret. "He tried his best to resist, but I guess I'm just irresistible. Ben walked in on it. Asher is riddled with guilt for doing something that is against your bodyguard bro code. As far as I'm concerned, we're all adults, and we can do what the hell we want. I don't regret it. It was awesome. And, as your client, I would appreciate it if you didn't make a big deal about this. Asher is a grown man. I'm a grown woman. And that's it." Putting my hand on my waist, I cock my hip, wanting to demonstrate that my body language matches my tone. Staring at Connor, I wait for him to react to my challenge.