Page 117 of Ravaged For You

And it’s all my damn fault.

After my long-ass shower, I just sit on the couch until there’s a knock on the door.

“Hello?”

A man is standing there outside my condo.

“I’m here to collect you to the TV studio, Miss Leaver.”

I follow him to the limo parked outside just for me.

Not long now before all this rockstar glitz and glamor is gone from my life.

* * *

I do get to see Axel again. This time it’s when I’m in the makeup chair at the TV studio. I was bundled through the back entrance away from any fans by a horde of security guards and forced into this random room where someone applies strong makeup to my face. Apparently, you need a lot for TV.

Axel comes in late. He’s clearly had a rough and long day doing interviews. There’s an entire crew surrounding him when he comes in. They guide him to the chair next to me and he sits with a sigh.

“Had a good day?” I ask him, trying my damn hardest to act nonchalant and not that this is the moment I’ve been waiting for since I stepped off the plane.

“Yes.”

It’s his only reply. Nothing flows between us. He doesn’t even look at me, instead regarding his handsome reflection in the makeup mirror. It’s like he’s a different man. The tour has ended and I’m now just another girl to him. Another past fling, as I’ve always feared.

We don’t say another word to each other as makeup is applied to us by an entire team of artists. Then, suddenly, I’m whisked to another part backstage.

“This is where you can watch the beginning of the show,” a production runner tells me in a hushed voice. I want to ask them where Axel is, but I bite my tongue. I’ll surely see him again in the moment, out there on stage with all the lights and cameras trained on me.

I have no choice but to just stand here and watch the talk show. Back in Wisconsin, I used to watch some of this. I liked it back then, but being here and up close to all the action makes the whole thing seem hollow in a way. Fake entertainment. I used to watch all this before I met Axel and the entire world flipped on its head.

The host is all merry and dramatic. It’s as false as the damn relationship.

He suddenly says my name. I’ve been daydreaming – completely forgetting that I’m about to head out on this stage – that I have to shake my head to compose myself.

Behind me, Axel appears.

“Out we go,” he whispers into my ear. I wish he doesn’t stop talking.

But then we’re out in view of all the cameras. The stage lights are blinding, just as the paparazzi camera flashes once had been. I find myself going through the motions of what I’ve seen guests do on talk shows before…

Wave to the crowd.

Hug the host.

Smile.

Sit down.

Pretend like your whole life isn’t crumbling apart inside.

Axel takes his place next to me. Unlike all the other times on the tour during our contract, he’s not holding my hand to guide me through this wild experience.

I strain my eyes and try to look into the audience. They’re all a blur. I do make out one figure sitting in the front row, though.

Astrid.

What’s she doing here?