I guess all it took was the sight of something sexual to get Stephen’s mind off of Alexander and onto something else. Yet, every movement of the man on stage makes me think about what I want to do to Alexander.
The stripper works his way around to Kelly’s back and uncuffs her before laying her down on the floor gently, in a waythat’s both kind and dutiful. Then he rips off his trousers to reveal just a G-string, barely containing his privates. Images of Alexander, exposed on stage, flick through my mind.
The stripper grinds down on Kelly, flipping her from missionary style into reverse cowgirl and every position in between. I’m both grossed out at seeing my younger sister being sexual with another man and turned on at the thought of that being Alexander and me doing that to him.
The song is almost finished as the stripper makes one final move—jumping up in the air before skillfully thrusting down on Kelly, and the crowd roars in climax. Kelly stumbles up, disheveled and with a smile as wide as a Cheshire cat across her face, revealing that she’s having the time of her life.
Yet, as I’m clapping, all I can do is think about Alexander and what he is up to right now.
9.Alexander
Saturday
The dance moves toTonight, I’m Gonna Fly, one of the few songs I begrudge still having to perform ten years into my career, are so drilled into my head that my body goes into autopilot, allowing me to instead focus my attention on Block 111.
I keep scanning the rows, hoping to spot Christopher. But I can’t seem to locate him. Rita Watson, yes. She waves her hand at me like a windshield wiper, having to hold on to the strap of her dress every time she does so as not to expose herself.
I even double-checked with Lucy during a costume change to ensure I have the right block, but she confirmed that’s where the seats were with a nod and a vague roll of her shoulders.
With just two songs left and one last look at that block, I admit defeat. I call in my performance for the rest of the show. My voice is beginning to give way again, forcing me to hold out the microphone to the crowd and encourage them to help me sing along. The team had set up an IV drip for me before the show—I’d told them the lingering effects of the alcohol might be a virus—but it’s starting to wear off.
Nothing like a hangover to remind me I’m not invincible.
And nothing like a guy not showing up to remind me I can’t always get what I want.
I plaster on a smile for the final song, my biggest hit to date,It’s You That I Need, and hold out the microphone to the crowd, letting them and the backing vocals carry me through. I bow out without as much as aThank you, London!, orGoodnight!, keeping my head down and ignoring the crew and guests loitering backstage to speedwalk down the corridors. I just want to retreat into the dressing room.
By the time I’ve showered, changed clothes, and gotten a fresh layer of makeup from Erica, Rob is there to escort me into the backstage bar. The red-walled room is filled with people standing by the bar or seated on felt couches scattered round the vast space. The dim overhead lighting is thankfully turned down a notch, giving my weary eyes a rest.
“Don’t forget to smile,” Connie says, greeting us at the door. Her head tilts slightly to the side, waiting for me to put one on my face.
“Happy,” I say, giving her a fuck you smile.
Connie rolls her eyes, turns around and moves into the room, clearly expecting me to follow. At my request, Rob goes to check with the box office about Christopher.
It’s like I’m being wheeled out for another performance, this time to a bar of friends and family, though neither are present. My parents aren’t supposed to come over till next week, and my brother Harrison avoids anything to do with my shows. Instead, the room is filled with a bunch of music industry contacts and their friends and family. And one disheveled Rita Watson, standing with her friend and talking to Paul. Connie does her best to introduce me briefly to everyone, moving me on after exchanging pleasantries and posing for the obligatory selfies.
Boxes ticked.
Hoops jumped through.
Yet no badge or medal at the end of it.
“Sorry boss, looks like he never picked up the tickets,” Rob says, leaning in, just as we get to Rita and her friend.
His words wipe the fake smile from my face.
I knew Christopher coming was a long shot, but it’s a double blow when I’m confronted by Rita in her skimpy green dress.
“Why so down?” Rita says, like she’s speaking to a baby. She stretches her hand out, thumb and index finger extended, to lift the corners of my lips upward. A flicker of irritation forms in my chest when no one comes in or tells her to move her hand away.
“I’m sure I can find a way to turn that frown upside down,” she says, giving me a wink. She removes her hand once I force the smile back on my face and drops her right shoulder, letting the strap slide down and almost exposing herself once more.
The mere thought of being in bed with her sends a shudder down my spine.
Have some class.
Connie cuts me a sideward glance.Play nice, I can hear her saying.
