Page 18 of Legendary Rock Star
The closet was a mistake.
I knew it, but I went anyhow. And now here I was, holding his hand.
If I kept this up, the crowd would turn on me. I’d not wow people with my voice if all they talked about was my horrible clothes and my hooking up with Phoenix.
And then the host stalked past us singers in line as he said, “Tomorrow night these three singers will perform their hearts out.”
“I’m scared,” I whispered, once he’d passed and I knew the camera was off us for ten seconds.
Phoenix squeezed my hand in sympathy and said, “Just smile. Whoever it is has 24 hours to retool their performance.”
Right. He thought I was one of them. And I couldn’t quite breathe. I scooted closer to him so I could smell his cologne. Somehow it helped me relax. I said, “I shouldn’t have let wardrobe talk me into this thing.”
He held my hand to his chest for a moment and said, “You’ll be fine.”
The host turned suddenly and I froze, like I wanted to play dead. But then he said, “Joe, you’re in the bottom three.”
So Phoenix was fine, since Joe was in the rock category like he was.
I glanced to my side, and suddenly the host clapped Phoenix on the back like they were friends or something and asked, “Phoenix, is there something going on with Maggie here?”
Phoenix’s gaze made me melt when he said, “Maggie is my muse as well as the most competitive person on the stage.”
My heart raced like I was sprinting around a racetrack right now. My parents would have heard him. The host asked, “Your muse?”
Phoenix’s brown eyes made my insides soft like butter when he said, “Her beauty and her hypnotic voice have inspired some melodies.”
No, no, no. If I went home now I’d hate myself. He was making me an extension of his story. How did I lose my gumption this fast? Over a teenage crush who, for all I knew, really saw me as competition too?
I wasn’t just a way to fix his image.
He shouldn’t even be here. He’d had his chance. This was mine. Besides, maybe everything that had happened between us was a lie. I wanted to take my hand back from him, but the host was asking Phoenix, “And what happens when one of you goes home?”
Then I lost him forever.
This talk about me being his muse was all for his selfish reasons. I wasn’t born yesterday. I’d lost my chance all over a few backstage kisses.
How stupid was I?
Phoenix said, “We’ll figure it out. First I’ll win and then I’ll find out what happened to my muse.”
“Or I win and he goes to cry in his mansion,” I interjected.
It’s a man’s world and there were serious guy overtones to what he’d said. If I was important to him, he’d have told me first, right?
The host bought it as he said, “Wow that’s interesting.”
“I’m here to win,” I said. But my treacherous soul wanted to believe those soft-spoken words of his behind the scenes, which couldn’t possibly be true.
Then the host said the obvious, “Well, Phoenix, the crowd and judges love you. You’re safe.”
Phoenix squeezed my hand like he’d been afraid.
But this was crystal clear to me. I was in big, big trouble. The host turned dramatically toward me and my stomach twisted when he said, “Maggie, your turn.”
“Hi,” I breathed out. It was all I could manage to say to his drama.
He gave me a creepy vibe when he curled his arm around my shoulder and stuck his microphone in my face. “So how do you feel about Phoenix Steel?”
