Page 20 of Legendary Rock Star
I’d never do this to myself again.
This wasn’t fair. I scrubbed some more until I saw myself in the mirror. The only other person in the dormitory’s bathroom was Rihanne, who was clearly doing the same thing.
She caught me staring at her facial cleanse a little too long and she said, “The 1950s theme was hard. If we survive, at least we move on to the 1970s next week.”
My face wrinkled. These past decades weren’t my thing. But hopefully I’d have better luck with the 1970s since at least my mom or her friends would have sung some songs from that era. I scrubbed my face one more time and turned the tap off.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Wanda told me in wardrobe,” Rihanne said, and tossed her own corset into the laundry.
I walked over in my robe and threw mine in beside hers so she would see. “Did she pick your clothes?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t sing in this,” Rihanne said, picking her corset up like it smelled of garbage.
I crossed my arms and at least felt normal again. “Me too.”
Rihanne plucked her fake lashes off and tossed them in the trash like I’d done an hour ago. “She must like the men better.”
Outside the window the night was black. “Or she just likes to torture girls with corsets,” I said.
Rihanne picked mine up and shook her head as she said, “Yours is even more extreme. Jane must have escaped this because she’s super skinny.”
This was part of my problem. I gave in to people even when I knew better. I needed to be in command of myself again. I lifted my chin like I was the leader of a rebellion. “Tomorrow, let’s be ourselves. We pick our own outfits in wardrobe.”
Rihanne crossed her arms like we were conspirators. “Let’s go.”
We went to our bunks to sleep for a few hours. Tomorrow would be nonstop, so I needed rest. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Phoenix.
His sweet kisses were like torture I wanted to experience over and over again.
I couldn’t stop myself from dreaming of him, and when my eyes fluttered open in the morning, I half thought he’d be there on the edge of my bed.
Except he wasn’t. My imagination was on overdrive.
I got up at the crack of dawn to practice, and sang my song multiple times, without the corset constraints.
At nine, when the crew showed up, Rihanne and I locked arms and went into wardrobe together. I said, “Chris, no extreme makeup tonight. I need to glow.”
“Me too. We’re in this together,” Rihanne said.
Then together we both told Wanda, “And no corsets, ever again.”
She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe it wasn’t to her, and this was only a job. But to the pair of us, our dreams were on the line.
Once we had new outfits decided, we headed to group production.
I took my place opposite Phoenix, like he’d picked out my spot.
The final five had been practicing for hours, but I learned the routine quickly and didn’t mind the part where I danced skin-to-skin with Phoenix.
Touching him was like I’d returned to heaven. It was a place I wasn’t ready to go to, but desire rushed through me and made me wish I could.
The rest of the day zoomed by. Practice, performing on stage, everything was a blur except for the moments I saw Phoenix.
Those seconds burned into my soul. But the next thing I knew I was back on stage, standing with Joe and Rihanne, waiting.
Any second now the host would say who stayed and who left.
