Page 13 of Resist
“Okay, sweetie. Love you. Stay safe.”
“You too, Mum.”
As I hung up the phone it occurred to me: I’d raised one hell of a man, I’d survived one poor excuse of a man, and I was the daughter of the best man I’d ever known.
I could handle men.
Even the half-naked perform-on-stage variety.
* * *
“Good,you’reallhere ontime,” I announced as I entered the Moreton room, my tone flat, my attention fixed to the screen of my iPad cradled in my arm.
My steps were brisk as I passed Corinne and the guys en route to the front of the room, each elevated step onto the stage taken with caution before I stopped and turned to face them. “Dex, can you hear me?” I called out to our sound technician.
He gave a thumbs-up.
“Excellent. Okay, I want to start with your individual performances. Brad, you’re up first.” I gave him the ‘come-hither’ flick of my finger then sat down on the chair I’d requested be placed in the centre of the stage. I’d deliberately changed into a body-hugging, high-split, shift dress for a purpose I would highlight later in the session, but, for now, I sat with my knees pressed together, ankles crossed, and waited patiently.
Brad swept his shoulder-length hair out of his face as he slowly ascended the stairs with a what-the-hell-are-we-doing look on his face. It was rather amusing and oh so different from the cocky one he’d displayed earlier at breakfast.
“Pretend I’m the woman you’ve chosen from the audience,” I said, nonchalantly. “Perform your solo for me.”
He paused, his brow crumpled. “What?”
“Perform. That’s what I pay you for.”
“But you’re my boss.”
“Exactly. If you can’t impress me, you’ve got a serious problem then, haven’t you?”
“But I … uh … I need my surfboard.”
“It’s leaning against the wall behind the curtain where you would normally step onto the stage.” I pointed in the direction I’d mentioned but kept my gaze dead ahead. “Dex, can you please hit start on ‘Drunk in Love’, thank you.”
A woman singing an exotic arpeggio filled the room, and without looking directly at Corinne and the other guys, I caught them in my peripheral vision. Corinne was seated at a table and fiddling with her camera bag strap; Josh stood beside her, arms crossed over his chest, hand covering his mouth, eyes glaring at me; Matt was beside him, hands in his trouser pockets; Noah had turned a chair backwards and was sitting on it next to Corinne; and Lucas was a step or two behind them, arms resting on his head, face stoic.
Brad positioned himself on stage and leaned against his surfboard. “Do you want me to take my clothes off?” he shouted above the music.
“That’s up to you, but it’s not necessary. I’m more interested in your movements on stage and how you interact with your audience.”
“But there is no audience.”
“What am I … a sock?”
He shook his head then started rolling his hips, gyrating slowly to the rhythm of the music. Brad had a great sense of timing, but he also had a relaxed disposition that usually came across in his performance. It put his audience at ease and made them feel safe and relaxed. Today, though, he was quite the opposite, and understandably so. I’d pulled him out of his comfort zone and thrown him into the fire. Granted, he’d ignited the flame when he’d instigated a wager over my age.
Continuing his performance, Brad ignored me for most of the song, which I found amusing but also concerning. I was supposed to be his main focus and he wasn’t paying me any attention whatsoever. Perhaps it was because he didn’t often invite a person on stage until the second half of his act, perhaps not. Either way, he’d better start seducing me or I’d call him out on it in front of everyone.
The sound of Jay-Z rapping filtered through the speakers, which was when Brad jumped off the stage and took on the persona I knew he had in him all along. He bounced to the beat and started dancing toward Corinne who swiped him away, as did Josh.
Smiling, I watched him taunt his twin brother who not so subtly demanded he ‘get his fucking sweaty balls out of his face’, and in the blink of an eye, everyone in the room — bar Noah — was at ease and having fun, and that was because theperformerwas having fun. His emotions and actions flowed to the people watching him — a key element crucial to a successful act. It was a domino effect, a little ‘Law of Attraction’; what he put out he got back.
Just as quickly as the playfulness started, it faded when Brad headed back to the stage, his demeanour and expression drenched with terror when he realised he would finally have to acknowledge me.
He stepped closer.
I smiled.
