How rude. The audience burst into laughter but Raine wasn’t going to let his crass, stupid joke stop her. It was typical for this type of show, and she hoped those jokes would stop when she proved to everyone that she was more than her scandal.
“Her new album comes out early next year, but her first single has been getting a lot of buzz, and she’s here to perform it live for you tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Raine Dennison.”
Swallowing again, Raine walked down the path the stage manager had told her to take. She knew she looked the part in a designer gown, a simple black strapless dress with a barely noticeable split up to her thighs. Unlike her usual footwear, she had on low black heels, and her hair was softly styled, her makeup also gentle, accompanied by simple hoop earrings. Nothing flashy, nothing excessive, and it had been what she’d requested. She didn’t want anything to detract from tonight.
Unfortunately, Quentin’s absence would do that just fine.
But the applause as she crossed the stage to where the acoustic guitar leaned against a chair gave her the strength to go on. As she pulled it over her head, she noticed how her hands were shaking—but she knew as soon as she started plucking the strings, she’d be okay. She pulled the pick from where it rested between a few strings, praying that someone had tuned it.
As soon as she played the first chord, she felt a slight wave of relief because they had at least done that much.
The stage was dark now, except for a spotlight on her, and she tried not to think about Quentin abandoning her in the moment when she’d needed him the most. Her throat felt dry, so she moved her tongue around and licked her lips.
Then she began singing “Ripped Away.”
* * *
I trusted you because you promised me the world…
And you saw the vulnerable girl that I was inside.
* * *
Those words could apply to Quentin now just as much as they’d applied to Mal when she’d written it, and so she sang from her heart—and she knew the words were coming out raw and emotional, just as they should have been, without the polish from the recorded version.
What told her the audience was rapt was there wasn’t a single sound except for what was coming from her mouth and the guitar.
And as she sang every single phrase, she knew she couldn’t be ignored.
She was back.
When she finally sang the last line in the final chorus—“A shadow where my heart used to be”—in almost a whisper, there was a brief few seconds of silence, and then the audience erupted with applause. Raine kept her cool and said thank you softly into the mic, even though they couldn’t hear it over their roars. As she walked off stage, she felt so many things inside. This was her moment of salvation.
But it was also her moment of grief.
Quentin absolutely had abandoned her. It didn’t matter why. His promises were now lies. As she passed one of the stagehands, the woman nodded and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up. Raine forced a smile—but as soon as she was back downstairs, she couldn’t maintain it anymore, and the tears began to flow.
When Mal found her, she wiped the tears away, putting on a stone face. “That was brilliant, love—and I think it turned out way better than if that dumb ass had been here.”
She tried to be grateful that Mal was sticking up for her, but it felt like he was trying to erase Quentin and, perhaps, regain his former control over her and her shoulders suddenly felt heavy. If she needed to, she’d deal with that later. “If he winds up getting the Best Producer award, I’m not going to accept it. You or somebody at the label can do it, but I’m done.”
Mal’s eyes widened but he nodded. Was he finally beginning to take her seriously? “We’ll figure it out,” he said, pulling out his phone and leaving her outside her dressing room door.
Stepping inside, she closed the door and let the tears fall. She saw her phone on the counter and walked over to it. She had all but begged Quentin to do the right thing, to be a good man and be there for her, because she’d known something wasn’t quite right. And he’d just ghosted her in the most public way imaginable. This wasn’t the first time he’d disappointed her, but it would be the last.
No more. Never again. She wouldn’t beg him or anyone else for shit.
Her jaw firm, she picked up her phone. Of course, there were no messages from Quentin and she hadn’t expected any. Still, she opened up their text thread to type him one final message.
I believed you.
Chapter 25
Why Quentin felt a little relief that Malachi had come to fetch Raine’s things at his house didn’t make much sense to him. But then again nothing had made sense for a while now.
If that sick motherfucker had been alone, he would have beaten the shit out of him—not just because of what he’d done to Raine when she was younger, but because it would make Quentin feel something other than what he was feeling. Instead, he monitored the guy’s every move while the woman with him tried to make conversation.
When they left, he was alone again with nothing more than his thoughts.
