Dance (20 page)

Jared
knew Adam must have had a talk with all the staff, warning them against ever
mentioning Fenix’s name in front of Jared. There was no other explanation why
three months
on,
Jared had never heard anyone even
whisper a single word about Fenix, while at the same time people walked around
Adam on egg shells. His friend’s mood had suffered a great deal because of
Jared, too.

Enough!

Jared
rubbed his tired eyes and got up, bracing himself to face another day. He was
so sick and tired of feeling this way, like he had a lead ball at the bottom of
his stomach. Like his chest was squeezed in a vice. Like his heart didn't even
beat anymore.

Fenix
was gone. Life went on.

Fenix
had gone to chase his dream, to further his career, to claim his place in the
world. Jared wasn’t blaming him for it, not really. He was angry and he was
sad, but more at the situation, not at Fenix.

Jared
wanted to get over him, wanted to feel happy again. Wanted to be able to go out
with friends and lead a normal conversation.
Wanted to
enjoy
something again.

But
he couldn't. Everyone annoyed him or bored him to death. He wasn't interested
in talking to anyone or
doing
anything.

God,
he was pathetic.

Padding
to the bathroom, Jared took a long, hot shower, before he got dressed and
headed to Queen Victoria. He’d much rather spend the day there than at home.

Walking
down the street, Jared passed by the same newsagents, pubs, and bakeries as he
did every day, but something on the window of a small souvenir shop caught his
eye. He stopped and neared the window, taking a closer look – it was a wall
clock, plain and round with a white dial and black letters. It wasn't anything
special, but Jared couldn't look away. He walked inside and asked to take a
closer look at the clock. The girl behind the counter took it down and brought
it to Jared, making a surprised face when Jared leaned in and listened.
Tick-
tock
, tick-
tock
.
The sound was loud and clear. Jared smiled and paid for the clock, walking out
of the shop with a plain blue plastic bag, the clock wrapped safely inside.

He
couldn't wait to go home later today and hang it in the living room. Fenix
hated repetitive sounds like clock ticking. As long as that clock tick-
tocked
on Jared’s wall, every second that passed by would
remind him that Fenix was not here and was never coming back.

Jared walked in
the rehearsal room to find everyone piled around one of the support actors,
Aiden, looking at something in his hands and so deep in conversation that they
didn't even see him coming in.

“I
told you he was a little slut, even before he dropped Jared like a hot potato
the moment a better opportunity arose. Look at him! Sneaking out of the back
entrance like that, smug and well-fucked,” Aiden was saying, provoking a few
nods and huffs from the rest of the cast.

Jared’s
vision blurred and the sound of his pulse roared in his ears. He instinctively
knew who they were talking about. Taking the distance between the small group
and
himself
in a few long strides, Jared pushed
everyone out of the way until he stood face to face with Aiden. He raised his
head and looked at Jared, his face going pale and the hand that held a magazine
going behind his back in a rush.

“Jared,
I...” he began, taking a step back. “We were just...”

“You
don't talk about him like that, do you hear me?” Jared
snarled,
his voice low and dangerous. He must have looked like a rabid dog because
everyone else stepped away from him too. Aiden seemed to collect himself and
Jared saw him squaring his shoulders and raising his chin.

“Fenix
Bergman is a bastard, Jared. He used you and then he dumped you. And now he’s
in the gossip columns all the time, sneaking out of hotels’ back entrances with
a different guy in tow every time,” Aiden said, his voice rising with every
word. Jared was a breath away from losing all his control and beating the shit
out of him. “He’s a whore and you deserve better...”

Aiden
couldn't finish his sentence
–
 
Jared
snapped and pounced on him,
punching him square in the jaw. He stumbled backwards, clearly surprised by
Jared’s violent outburst, falling ungraciously on the floor, his eyes widening
as he saw Jared advancing on him, determined to do much more damage.

Strong
arms wrapped around Jared’s waist and pulled him back, lifting him off his
feet. Jared trashed and
fought,
his mind blank and his
vision blurred. He screamed and kicked, trying to get away, trying to make the
pain stop.
Trying to breathe.
Trying to erase every
single word he’d just heard.

“
Shh
, it’s OK, Jared. It’s OK. You’re OK...” Jared could
hear Adam's voice whispering in his ear as he dragged him away, but it was
coming from too far away. The thick fog around Jared was consuming him and he
trashed, screamed, and cried, trying to make it go away so that he could see
clearly again.

After
what seemed like hours, Jared was unceremoniously dumped into a bath, and he
felt cold water all over his body. His clothes were soaked within seconds and
his teeth started to chatter. The fog dissipated and Jared realised he was in
his dressing room’s bathroom and Adam was standing outside the bath, looking at
him with a mixture of anger and concern.

Jared
brought his knees to his chest and started shivering violently under the cold
water. He didn't turn off the tab, though. It helped him concentrate on
something other than what had just happened.

Adam
reached and turned off the water, folding his arms over his chest.

“Are
you done?” he asked in a flat voice. All Jared could manage was a nod. Adam
walked out of the bathroom and came back a minute later with a towel. He helped
Jared out of his wet clothes and wrapped the towel around him. Jared was still
shivering as Adam led him to the sofa and sat him down.

They
didn’t speak. Jared wasn't even sure he
could
speak. Suddenly, he felt so tired, so lost and directionless. Adam wrapped and
arm around his shoulders, and pulled him closer.

“I
think you should let the stand-in take over for today,” he said quietly.

Jared
nodded.

Chapter twenty

Fenix

“For
fuck’s sake!
Are we going to make a decision
any time soon? Preferably before I die a slow, painful death?” Fenix groaned.
He’d been stuck in that staff meeting for over an hour, going on and on about a
cast member being caught with drugs in a nightclub and his arrest. The
producers felt the whole thing reflected badly on the show and wanted the man
gone, but didn't have a suitable long-term replacement. “I’ve been stuck here
for hours, listening to something that has nothing to do with me. I don't
fucking care if you fire his ass or if you pretend nothing has happened. I
don’t give a flying fuck either way,” Fenix said, enunciating the last words
slowly. He rose from his chair and headed for the door, completely disregarding
the protests from both producers and several cast members. He was their star,
his opinion mattered.
Whatever.
Fenix could not spend
another second confined in this room. He opened the door, suppressing the urge
to slam it behind him, and walked out.

Seven
months had passed since he’d left London. Seven months since he’d abandoned the
only person that had ever made him happy.

Poison
was a hit on Broadway. It sold out every night, got rave reviews from fans and
critics alike, and Fenix was allowed to do whatever he wanted. Everyone closed
their eyes and didn’t comment on his outbursts. The darkness inside him helped
develop his character – a temperamental, unstable, arrogant rock star. Fenix
didn't even have to pretend to be all those things anymore.

His
ADHD was out of control. He could barely concentrate enough to perform for two
hours every night. By the time the show was over he felt drained – physically,
emotionally,
mentally
. But his mind wouldn't relax,
wouldn't let him fall asleep and forget about everything.

Fenix
couldn't sleep for more than four or five hours a night. And even then, he woke
up several times without any reason. It would take him ages to calm down enough
to get back to sleep, and sometimes he didn't even bother. He had dark circles
under his eyes and he’d lost weight. His body was on the verge of collapsing –
Fenix barely ate, and combined with the gruelling work-outs, dance rehearsals,
and the demanding performance ever night, he was lucky he still hadn't fainted
on stage.

If
the producers, director, choreographer, or his fellow cast members had noticed
something was wrong, they never said anything. Who would care anyway? As long
as Fenix went on stage every night and gave the audience the show they eagerly
expected, who cared if Fenix had lost the will to live?

Even
Joy and Ned, the only people among the cast he counted as friends, stopped
trying to get through to him. In their defence, they did try.
At first.
Fenix pushed them away as hard as he could. He
didn't need anyone fussing over him. He didn't want to talk about his feelings.
He didn't need anybody to care.

What
he needed was a long, hard fuck every now and again. That was the only way to
lose
himself
, forget about the mess his life had
turned into and not think about Jared.

The
only time Jared’s name fled his mind was when he had a guy’s cock so deep
inside his ass that his brain turned into mush and his thoughts became white
noise.

Broadway
was his dream come true, so why the fuck wasn't he enjoying it? Why wasn't he
happy
? He loved going on stage, and that
was probably the only part of his day when he felt something close to
happiness. When he got that standing ovation or when he saw the pride in his
parents’ eyes he felt accomplished. He felt like he’d made it.

That
was it. He was on Broadway, making huge waves.

So
why did Fenix curl into the foetal position every night in his bed, trying to
hold on to the memories of Jared while desperately wishing them away at the
same time?

“Harder!” Fenix
yelled, turning his head over his shoulder to look at the man who was fucking
him. “Fuck me harder or get lost!” he snarled. Mike, or John, or whatever his
name was, smiled evilly and grabbed Fenix’s shoulders for leverage.

“As
you wish,” he growled and started snapping his hips in a brutal, punishing
rhythm while squeezing Fenix’s shoulders painfully.

Fenix
welcomed the pain. He needed the pain. It was that or cut himself, and Fenix
had enough sense left to pick a hard fuck over bodily harm with a cold weapon.

The
guy drove his cock inside Fenix’s willing body over and over again, letting go
of his shoulders and pushing him face first on the mattress. Fenix moaned in
appreciation, fisting the sheets and biting the pillow to stop
himself
from screaming.

He
craved the emotional release these sessions brought him.

Fenix
felt the wave of anger, despair, sorrow, and misery rise inside him, building
and growing larger with every thrust. His balls tightened and his orgasm
crashed into him, exploding in a white light behind his closed eyes.

He
didn’t even feel it when the guy behind him came, or when he pulled out, took
the money from the bedside table, and left. Fenix was incapable of feeling
anything else but his own agony spreading throughout his whole being, rising
and falling, expanding and shrinking back until it burst into millions of sharp
little shards.

Fenix’s
sobs shook his body. Those shards pierced his soul for what seemed like ages
before his body gave out and he fell into an exhausted, miserable sleep.
 

Chapter twenty one

Jared

On the last day
before the summer break, Jared fucked up his performance for the first time in
his life. He forgot his lines, messed up the dance moves, lacked stage presence
and charm. Most of the audience probably didn't notice his mistakes. Instinct took
over and he managed to perform around them. The cast worked as a well-oiled
machine by now and covered for him as well, so nobody asked for their money
back in the end of the show. Still, Jared felt like a failure.

This
time last year he and Fenix had been so excited to go on their trip to New
York. They had made plans and booked theatre tickets and argued whose fault the
excess baggage was. What was Jared going to do with himself for two weeks? Work
was the only thing keeping him half sane, what would he do when that rug was
pulled from under him, too?

He
couldn't stop thinking about it. That was why his performance had suffered. He
was stressed, overworked, sleep deprived and...
sad
.
Mostly sad.