Controlled By The Billionaire

*****

Mel shook the nerves from her hands and looked around at the crowd. He wasn’t coming. The butterflies leaping about in her gut made her want to vomit. It wasn’t the mild stage fright that was making her this way, she’d performed at many open mic nights before, it was the fact that Tristan wasn’t there yet. If he was even coming. They were about to start her performance and he wasn’t coming. She glanced out at the crowd again as she sat down on the stool to tune her guitar. Tristan had to come; he had to be there when she sang her song.

Mel watched from where she was perched on the small stage as people streamed in through the open double doors across the room. Not one of them was Tristan. This was bad and Mel could feel her throat getting tight. No, she couldn’t lose it. All of these people came to support her on her special night. She should be happy and grateful, not sitting on stage about to lose her sh*t. Taking a deep breath she continued to tune her guitar, making sure that she had everything exactly the right way for when her performance started. She would be alone on stage; only the lights and her guitar to accompany her. This was how she liked it though. She knew once she began to sing nothing else would matter and the room and the crowd would fade away, just like it did every time she was in the studio or had done a performance before her recording deal.

“Hey! How’re you holding up?” Blake bounded up onto the stage, her red curls bouncing behind her as she hopped up.

Mel smiled; she was relieved to see Blake was there to support her. Blake was her family, her only family. “I’m alright.” Blake raised her eyebrows at Mel. “Fine. I’m a bit nervous. There are a lot of people here.” Mel tried to pretend that the crowd was freaking her out. She couldn’t tell Blake about her plan in case Tristan didn’t show. She would pity her. Mel had been given enough pity to fill a swimming pool.

“The show will start in five minutes. If everyone could take their seats as quickly as possible that would make for an easier transition.” Janice announced, appearing from nowhere with a microphone.

Blake shot Mel a look and Mel rolled her eyes. Janice was a bit perky and cheery, not at all like Mel with her tendency to be dark and gloomy. She didn’t hate Janice, she was just a bit annoying.

Over the next five minutes she finished getting organized and then stepped down to the bar to get some water to set next to her on stage. Her throat tended to get dry while she performed live. Glass in hand she turned, bumping right into Tristan and sloshing water all over the two of them.

“Oh no!” Mel exclaimed, backing up as fast as she could.

It was clear that Tristan’s shirt received the brunt of the collision and she stifled a laugh at the way his face contorted with irritation.

“I’ll get you some paper towels.” Mel turned and ran behind the bar, grabbing a handful of paper towels before running back to where Tristan stood, water dripping from his shirt.

She began to wipe his shirt, her hands brushing over his tight abdomen and chest, covered only by a thin dress shirt. Mel’s body began to heat with the content and under his shirt Tristan’s chest moved in and out as if he were panting. This wasn’t how Mel wanted to get Tristan back, but his reaction to her touching him was enough to let her know he still wanted her.

Seconds later he snatched the paper towels from her hand, not saying anything but giving her a sullen look. He clearly didn’t like the way she made him feel. That worried Mel but she pushed the thought back.

Just as Mel was climbing back onto the stage Janice called for everyone to take their seats as someone lowered the lights. Mel hopped onto the stool, forgetting all about the water. She lifted the guitar to her lap, her fingers poised over the strings and ready to play. There was too much riding on this performance and Mel could only trust that it would all work out in the end.

*****

Tristan watched Mel sing, the words floating over him. He loved her music, her voice. She sounded like an angel even though her lyrics were quite dark. Watching her sing may have been the very thing that made him realize he was in love with her, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself then.

The last few weeks he spent without Mel in his life were the loneliest weeks he’d ever experienced. That was a lot coming from an orphan with no family. Sighing, Tristan ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment. He let Mel’s words about death and loneliness wash over him, the same thoughts that were in his head about his parent’s abandonment. Mel understood, on some level she was also alone and they shared a common history. Tristan suddenly wondered why Mel was alone. He looked around the room. Most of the people there were people the PR firm and the record company recruited to come one way or another. Mel’s friend Blake was there, but other than that he didn’t see anyone in the audience who was supporting her. It was then that Tristan understood the words she screamed at him the last day they were together. Mel was alone just as he was. Out of the blue Tristan made up his mind about what to do regarding his feelings for Mel, and his decision wasn’t one that he had expected.

*****

The world drifted away as Mel sang, her voice lifting to the rafters and carrying beyond the crowd. Her heart beat steadily to the melody of the guitar as the music drifted out over the audience. This was where Mel felt most at home, at peace. This was where Mel belonged. Everything else faded away as Mel’s voice climbed higher and higher. She felt as if she were hovering over the crowded room watching herself from above. Slowly she floated back down as the last song she was to sing from her album faded out. She looked out at the crowd and smiled, the applause roaring inside of the small building. The lights came up and Mel looked around, locating Tristan easily in the crowd. He had a strange look on his face, it appeared to be fear, but Mel wasn’t sure she ever saw Tristan afraid before so maybe she was wrong.

“The last song I’m going to sing is something I wrote just for the occasion.” Mel cleared her throat, wishing she had the water she spilled, and picked her guitar back up, resting it on her knee.

The lights dimmed again, the spotlight shining in her face. She lost sight of Tristan but knew the relative area where he stood in front of her. Looking in that direction she began playing, her stomach rioting with butterflies. It was now or never. If she chickened out and didn’t play the song for him, she’d regret it and always wonder what could have happened. Taking a deep breath she began to sing.

We have our own stories, you and I

Mine ends with death, yours with goodbye

You walked away to save yourself

But now I can’t think of anyone else

The night it grips me with its horns

Waking with screams of pain and scorn

I never knew it could be like this

Your every touch fills me with such bliss

Where will it end, for you and me

I cannot breathe, I cannot see

To touch you, to feel your pain

It falls around me like hot burning rain

We have our own stories, you and I

Mine ends with death, yours with goodbye

Tomorrow we will both be free

But is that what is meant to be

The melody of Mel’s acoustic guitar faded away, a single tear falling onto the polished wood. She wondered if Tristan heard the message and understood.

*****

Tristan listened, his eyes closed, as Mel sang the new song she wrote. Initially he thought she wrote a new song to bolster publicity for a second album. But as she sang, her beautiful voice washing over him, finding its way inside of his heart, he realized she wrote the song for him. Tristan’s chest ached with the message she was sending him. It was up to him. She was telling him that she loved him, that she wanted to be with him and that the final decision was his choice.