Page 76 of Backstage

“Yeah, Damian never touched me. Forgive me.” The hint of a smile on her lips makes me angry on the one hand because she risked ruining an innocent man’s life. On the other hand, it’s the confirmation we all needed and took a weight off my chest.

We’re all waiting for a reaction, but Damian doesn’t open his mouth for what seems like an eternity. “I never laid hands on you, ever? Not even that night?”

The question takes the woman by surprise, but I know why he asks it. He’s afraid he’s done something and doesn’t remember it. He’s terrified his subconscious will turn him into his father. Damian has taught his rational side not to hurt anyone. He’s lived for years imposing himself not to hurt others, physically or emotionally, but a part of his brain is terrified of having a blackout and bringing out the beast that was his father. That’s why his words from before hurt even more. Hewantedto hurt me.

“No, although you were completely wasted and couldn’t understand anything, you were a gentleman. You didn’t even touch me with a finger, not even to move me when I clutched at your arm. You’re not a monster, Damian.”

This time he smiles tenderly, and I see the tension leave the body of the man I love. He got the confirmation he was looking for. He was able to find that little piece he was missing.

“Would you like to come with us to the press conference and deny the accusations your husband made against him?” Evan’s question comes out almost in a whisper like he’s afraid to scare her.

“Don’t make me repeat the whole story in front of the reporters,” she begs him.

“I’ll tell it myself and leave out the private details. You can answer the questions if you want. Only the ones you feel like. It would help us dismantle the accusation. Otherwise, it would be Damian’s word against your husband’s, and the photos he released are...hard to explain.”

“Can I refuse to answer if I don’t want to?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” The relief on everyone’s faces is liberating.

Evan tinkers with his phone and sends a text message, but no one else makes a sound yet. We’re all focused on her, on her slim figure inside that big suit. We’re not staring at her openly, but out of the corner of our eye, we’re studying her. It takes courage to do something like that, coming here, knowing that journalists have laid siege to this place.

“The reporters are already in the room for the press conference. Let’s go.” Evan stands up, and we all follow him in a straight line.

We decide not to hole up in the bus. None of us can stay locked in there waiting for the outcome of this walk to the gallows. We don’t go into the press conference room, but we sit outside in the corridor, on the concrete floor, silent. No one even dares to move. From inside the room come muffled noises, some a little stronger than others. It lasts an hour and a half. No press conference has ever been this long, but Evan probably wants to be sure the message is loud and clear: Damian is innocent, the woman’s husband is to be locked up.

When they finally come out the door we’re sitting next to, Dave and two other goons escort the band to another room. Damian looks at me in passing, but he doesn’t stay long enough to sustain my gaze, let alone a conversation. I just wish I knew how it went in there. Martin tried to watch the press conference live, but the reception in this bunker sucks, and we finally gave up. Thomas turns to me, winking at me with a smile that gives me serenity.

Evan catches up with us and explains. “Tonight’s concert is still on. If you want, you can stay on the side of the stage and watch from there. I’m sorry you can’t finish the tour, but these two days have been heavy for everyone. We still have to figure out how the fans out there are reacting, and I’d rather not let you face a potentially difficult situation.”

“No problem, really,” Luke reassures him. “We’d love to watch the show.”

“How’s he doing?” My voice is weak. I’m almost afraid of the answer.

“He’ll get over it. Damian’s got broad shoulders, and he’ll get over it. Why don’t you join him and go ask him yourself? He’ll be happy to see you.” He smiles tenderly, like a father.

I lower my embarrassed gaze before I look up into his eyes again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I’ll enjoy watching the concert. Tell him I’m glad it worked out for the best.”

Evan looks at me, puzzled, but says nothing. He just nods and then follows the Jailbirds into the room.

“Can we punch him in the face another day?” I look at Martin, puzzled. “Damian just got let off a rape charge. I’d rather not punch him for hurting you right at this moment. Let’s give him a couple of days off,” he says, trying to lighten the moment.

“That’s not necessary, really. At the end of the day, I knew what I was getting into when I slept with him. I never thought I was the miracle girl who would turn him into a one-woman man.” My heart hoped for it, but after this morning’s conversation, I know he stopped deluding himself.

The three of them smother me in a hug and then drag me backstage to the Staples Center.

“It’s a shame. I’ve always dreamed of playing in here,” Luke says, peeking on stage where the musicians are rushing to finish tuning the instruments, since the soundcheck blew up completely today. Usually, musicians deal with these things when the band can’t physically get on stage to do it themselves. Today, though, things have been so surreal that until an hour and a half ago, they didn’t know if Evan would allow Jailbirds to play; regardless of what the record company wants, his manager would never let Damian on stage just for the money.

“We’ll make it up to Madison Square Garden. That’s our home. We’ll be invincible there.” I turn to Taylor. The dreamy look on his face makes me smile for the first time since last night. It’s been nine months since the contest, and we’ve reached the end of this tour. It’s been challenging. There have been times when I thought I wouldn’t make it, I fell in love, and I’m heartbroken, but the look on my friend’s face erases all the tears shed.

“Damian, I’m really sorry for everything my husband put you through.”

I asked Evan to let me talk to her alone. I need to clear this up personally as well as in the media. I don’t know how I feel. Her swollen face brings back memories I’d rather keep buried in the back of my mind and away from my heart.

“Eva, it wasn’t your fault. You mustn’t feel in any way responsible for what happened.” I get close to her and sit on a chair in front of the sofa where she’s sitting.

“If we hadn’t come into the room and taken those pictures, my husband wouldn’t have been angry.”

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