“World Spins Madly On”
Sander
Sander of old would never have made himself vulnerable to a woman. It seemed that Sander of new had no problem showing his softer side. New Sander had grown a giant pussy. He’d also, apparently lost his filter. In the AA meetings I’d attended, which had been a mandatory requirement after rehab, they’d talked about two things: making amends and changing the pattern. I hadn’t done so well on the amends front, but I was definitely changing my pattern. I wasn’t lying when I told Wynne that I’d tried to stay away. I had tried. I’d walked away from that limousine this afternoon with the best of intentions. Whether I wanted to or not, I was letting her go.
As expected, Jayne was waiting for me in my trailer. Talk about livid. By the way she was acting, you would have thought I’d screwed Wynne on national television. When she asked if we were involved in a relationship, I answered truthfully. At that moment in time, Wynne and I weren’t together.
The trick to diffusing Jayne, or anyone with power, for that matter, was all in the wording. I didn’t say Wynne and I had been together but were no longer. Nor did I offer up details, such as we fucked like rabbits all week and I now had this annoying bone-deep ache in my chest that I couldn’t shake. I simply said we weren’t together, because...we weren’t. Either way, my blunt answers and matter-of-fact attitude seemed to mollify her, and after a nice long chat—where she threatened my job if I stepped out of line again, and I acquiesced, she walked away with a satisfied smile on her face.
I did try to stay away from Wynne, but after spending the afternoon getting nothing done, besides wondering where she was and what she was doing, I said fuck it, and sent her a text.
The plan wasn’t to lure her to my trailer for sex. I simply wanted to see her, but when she walked through that door wearing those sexy ripped jeans and smelling like heaven, my brain shorted out and my cock took over. Evidently, so did my mouth, because all of a sudden, my filter was gone, and I was spewing...my feelings. Jesus, fuck. Talk about best laid plans. Try worst plan ever. Did I want her? Hell yes. I wanted her beyond reason. Was I being smart in not heeding Jayne’s warning? No, but for some reason, I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
The next three days consisted of all-day rehearsals, each of which I made sure to toggle between Wynne and Ferris, giving both of them equal amounts of my time. By Tuesday afternoon, Wynne had the judges pick, Joplin’s “Piece of my Heart”, nailed down. She wasn’t ready for me to hear her original just yet, but according to Fenton, it was a winner. As for the duet, we were singing Pink and Kenney Chesney’s “Setting the World on Fire.” Even though it wasn’t my first pick, Wynne seemed happy with it, and if Wynne was happy, I was happy.
As for Ferris, he was about as indecisive as a toddler in a candy store. The boy must have altered the lyrics to his song four different times before finally settling. March had suggested Bazzi’s “Mine” as the judges pick, and everyone signed off on it, including Ferris. I had to admit, it sounded damn good. As for our duet, Ferris wanted “Say Something” by Justin Timberlake and Chris Stapleton. We had the words down, but the connection wasn’t quite there. Go figure.
The days were all about the job, but the nights belonged to Wynne. My cock twitched just thinking about last night and the full body rubdown I’d given her before we sank into a warm bath, and I sank into her. Wynne and I had a connection unlike any I’d ever known. It was a connection bordering on obsession. At least, it was for me. With each passing day, it became more and more of a struggle not to touch her. Several times, I caught myself right as I was about to grab her hand or wrap my arms around her. I needed to be more careful.
Thursday was absolutely grueling. Wynne was on edge about the song she’d written. Several times, I offered to help, but she refused. Ferris was being a straight up prick. After forty-five minutes of listening to him bitch about everything from the music to the stage props, I told him to fucking take thirty and get a grip. I then told Saul I would be back in a few and stormed from the building. I couldn’t wait for this shit to be over.
I thought about checking in on Wynne, but as I’d checked on her three times already, I decided against it. Too much Sander might be a bad thing. We definitely couldn’t have that. So, I opted for an apple from the judges’ lounge and a walk to my trailer instead. Imagine my surprise when I found Ferris sitting on the steps.
“What’s up?” I asked as I unlocked the door and ushered him inside. I made my way over to my desk and started sifting through the stack of papers I’d been avoiding since before I left with Wynne.
“Why don’t you tell me?” His challenging tone caught my attention, but I refused to acknowledge it. Ferris was talented, but he was also a spoiled kid who didn’t like hearing the word no.
“What is it you want to know?” I pretended to shuffle the papers while waiting for him to launch into how unhappy he was that he’d lost the coin toss and was singing second in tomorrow’s finale. I looked forward to shutting him down.
“I know you’re sleeping with Wynne.” Like a sucker punch, his words literally winded me. He might as well have kicked me in the nuts. “I have to say, I’m surprised. You’re known for sleeping around, but I didn’t think Wynne was the type to screw her way to the top.”
Slashing my eyes to his, I warned, “Watch your mouth.”
His brows shot to the sky. “Am I wrong?”
“Hell yes, you’re wrong. Why would you even suggest such a thing?” I stared him down, wondering if he had evidence or if he was simply guessing.
“I see how close the two of you are,” he shot back at me. He was guessing.
“I’m close to you, too. It’s my job as your coach,” I countered.
“Yeah, but you’re not visiting me late at night and then leaving the next morning,” he added with a smile. Mother fucker. The little shit knew. My mind raced with what to say, or better yet, how to diffuse the situation.
I dropped to my chair and ordered, “Have a seat.”
He sat and let out a fake sigh. “We both know I’m going to lose, especially now that you’re with Wynne.”
Deciding to go with the age-old strategy of deny, deny, deny, I said, “First of all, nothing is happening between me and Wynne. If you lose, it won’t be because of me, but because America doesn’t think you’re good enough to win.”
“That’s bullshit! The judges have a vote, which we both know you’ll sway. You have a vote, and we know you’ll pick Wynne, and America has a vote.”
“Yes, but America has the biggest vote. A vote that you have a fifty-fifty shot at winning, so tell me Ferris, what is this really about?”
His face clouded with anger. “With you fucking one of the finalists, I’d say the odds are against me winning, wouldn’t you?”
Sick of playing games, I came right out and asked, “Do you have proof that I’m sleeping with Wynne?”
“I want a guaranteed contract,” he responded. And there it was. The real reason for his visit. The little shit knew he couldn’t win on his own merit, so he figured he would blackmail me. “When I lose, and we both know I will, I want a legitimate recording contract that’s equal to the one Wynne will get when she wins. I also want a check for five-hundred thousand dollars.” Like hell, I thought.
“Or?” I asked.
“Or nothing,” he snapped, fidgeting in his seat. My calm demeanor was starting to get to him. “I’ll simply tell Jayne that you’re screwing Wynne.” I fought back a laugh. Jayne would send his ass packing, especially if she knew he was trying to blackmail me. So what if he saw me leaving Wynne’s room? If he had proof, he would have shown his hand by now. He didn’t have dick for proof and we both knew it.
“Tell her,” I challenged. His eyes rounded in surprise.
“B-b-but—” he sputtered.
Lowering both elbows onto my desk, I leaned forward, and growled, “Fucking tell her, you tiny-dick moron. I dare you. Who do you think you are? If I want to fuck Wynne, I’ll fuck her. Who are you to stop me? No one, that’s who. I own this show. Therefore, I can fuck who I want, but I’m not, so tread carefully with your lies and innuendos, you little twat.” He shot up from the chair so fast it tumbled over onto the floor behind him.
“This whole thing has been rigged from the beginning,” he fumed. Clearly this wasn’t going according to his plan.
“The only one rigging anything is you. Instead of working hard to make yourself unbeatable, you’re in here lamely attempting to blackmail me. All this shows is how little faith you have in yourself. This, right here, Ferris, is why you will never make it in this industry. Now, get the fuck out of my office.”
I didn’t go to Wynne that night, nor did I text her to explain why. It was too risky. I thought about calling her but decided against it. She was better off not knowing. When Jayne failed to pay me a visit, I knew that calling Ferris’s bluff had been the right move.
Friday, I made sure to keep rehearsal as professional as possible. Wynne was quiet which bothered me. Each time I tried to pull her aside to explain, we were interrupted. Finally, I just told her everything was fine and to trust me. She seemed better after that. Ferris was his usual dickhead self. Only now, he was more so, if that was even possible. The fucker kept messing up the duet and bitching about how my voice didn’t sound like Chris Stapleton’s. No shit. Maybe it was because I wasn’t Chris Stapleton.
I didn’t go to Wynne that night, either. I wanted to, but again, I wasn’t willing to risk it. Just because Ferris didn’t have anything on us, didn’t mean he couldn’t get it. Tomorrow this whole thing would be over, and we could all move on. Wynne would have a few days of postproduction, but after that, I was going to whisk her back to Aspen and chain her to my bed.
The day of the finale was insane. Not only was it New Year’s Eve, but it was snowing like crazy outside. Between fittings and last-minute dress rehearsals, I barely had time to breathe. Wynne was all smiles which was good. What bothered me was that Ferris, too, was all smiles. The fucker knew he was going to lose, so why was he smiling?
By mid-day, my unease had grown to out and out worry, but what could I do? I was flying blind. If Ferris knew something, he wasn’t talking. I was stuck. I felt cornered. The last time I felt this way, my entire career blew up in my face.
I was sweating by the time we made it to the stage that night. The crowd went wild as Wynne’s name was announced. The judge’s song choice was first. Like a pro, my girl nailed Janis and took a piece of the audience’s heart. She also earned a standing ovation from the judges’ table. Ferris was equally as good with his rendition of “Mine”. Round one was a tie.
I was nervous about round two. I’d heard Ferris’s song, but not Wynne’s. Please be good, I thought as she stepped onto the stage. My eyes immediately zeroed in on the guitar in her hands. Shit, she was playing the guitar I gave her for Christmas. It was my signature guitar that had been a huge part of my career with Indigo Road. The media would have a field day when they saw her playing it. I should have said something when I gave it to her. Now, it was too late. The entire world was watching, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Steffi’s head turned, and her brow arched in question. “Isn’t that your guitar?”
Playing it off as no big deal, I answered, “Hers is a piece of shit. It’s the least I could do.”
“Look at you with a heart,” she teased. She had no idea.
The theater went silent as the stage faded to black. It was just Wynne and the guitar. My chest constricted as she began to play. Fuck, but she was good. Like everyone else in the room, I was swept up in her voice as she began to sing.
I’d given up. Oh, it was easy to do.
I was tired, so tired of my dead-end life.
Tired, so tired of all the strife.
But then suddenly there was you.
I was hypnotized, held in thrall by her raspy tone and mesmerized by her heartbreakingly vulnerable lyrics.
You lifted me from the dirt and dusted off my pain.
Showed me what I’m worth and that there’s peace beneath the shame.
I found peace beneath my shame.
The knot in my chest jumped into my throat at the realization that she was singing to me. She didn’t want me to hear the song before tonight, because she was saving it for me. My eyes stung and I had to blink a few times to clear them.
My eyes are wide open, my story still left to tell.
I’ve grown, I’ve seen, I believe in me. I now believe in me.
We both have a story. Together we are true.
Oh, we both have a story.
Jesus, she was killing me. Clearing my throat, I took a sip of water.
“She’s amazing,” Steffi whispered. Yes, she is.
The song ended with the entire theater on their feet, and there was no doubt in my mind that Wynne Benfield had just won the entire fucking competition.
As predicted, Ferris’s song fell flat. The crowd cheered, but no one stood. Poor Ferris.
When it came my turn to sing with Wynne, I made her switch guitars with me.
“Trust me,” I told her, when she started to question it. Instead of arguing, she simply handed over the guitar. Of everything that had gone down between us, her unquestioning trust meant the most. Wynne trusted me and damn if I didn’t feel the same for her. I didn’t trust anyone, but I trusted her.
The moment we hit the stage, it was just the two of us and our guitars. We were so into each other and the song, that we missed all of our marks. I only had eyes for the woman sitting on the stool next to me. As we sang about staying up all night while getting high and setting the world on fire, I had an epiphany. This moment with Wynne surpassed any high or drunken bender I’d ever been on. I wasn’t sure if it was love or not, but I knew that it was profoundly different than anything I’d ever felt before. I also knew that I wanted to take the time to find out what it was, or even better yet, what it could be.
The song ended with everyone on their feet, a deafening roar of voices cheering for the two of us. I took her hand in mine and she gave me a blinding smile. Then we took a bow.
As Wynne exited stage left and Ferris took her place, that feeling of unease returned. The song went well, and we sounded great, but both of us knew that nothing could top my duet with Wynne.
“You had your chance,” Ferris mouthed as Wynne was ushered back on stage. Wait, what? Fuck! Anger like I’d never felt roared through me as my heart thrummed painfully in my chest.
“You need to get back to your seat,” I heard someone say, but I couldn’t make my feet move. I could see it, the gleam of victory in his beady little eyes. I’d fucked up. I’d called his bluff. Only, he wasn’t bluffing. I fucked up, and now Wynne was going to pay for it.
“Sander?” Wynne called out, a look of concern etched across her gorgeous face.
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed.
“Clearly Sander doesn’t want to leave, so let’s give him another round of applause!” our MC, Joel, announced.
“Now, Sander,” I heard Jayne whisper. Defeat washed through me as I made my way back to the judges table.
“Drama king,” March joked as I took my seat. I didn’t bother to respond. All I could do was stare at the stage.
“Well, folks, it seems that the votes are in! Can we please have a drum roll?” Joel shouted. I wanted to close my eyes, but I wouldn’t let myself. I needed to watch. I could have stopped this. I deserved what was coming.
“America and the judges have voted, and I have to say, it was close. Buuuuut, the title of Million Dollar Musician goes to Wynne Benfield!” Right as Wynne’s name was announced, Ferris leaned over and whispered something in her ear. A look of confusion skittered across her face as her eyes darted to me.
Balloons and confetti poured down onto the stage as Ferris jerked the mic from Joel’s hands. “I’d like to say a few words of congratulations, but sadly I can’t, because the whole thing was rigged.” At Ferris’s words, the theater went quiet. “I was told this would be a fair competition, but how can that be when Sander James is sleeping with one of the final two contestants? I approached him about this yesterday, and you know what he had to say?” He held up his phone and realization hit. The fucking prick had taped the conversation.
I flinched as my voice spilled through the mic, out into the packed theater, and across the entire world. “Who do you think you are? If I want to fuck Wynne, I’ll fuck her. Who are you to stop me? No one, that’s who. I own this show. Therefore, I can fuck who I want.” Of course, it was taken out of context, but no one knew this and there was no way that I could prove it.
“I demand that Wynne be removed from the—” Before he could finish his sentence, Wynne turned and bolted from the stage. As I stood to go after her, I found myself blocked by three security guards.
“Move!” I shouted, as I attempted to plow through the middle of where they were standing.
“We need you to stay here, Mr. James,” one of them responded.
“Wynne!” I shouted as I tried diving over them.
“Mr. James, please stop.”
“Fuck you! Wynne!” I shouted again.
“Wynne!” I shouted a third time before the guards finally restrained me and I was marched from the building.
Yep, you could say I’d really fucked up this time...
The rest of Million Dollar Musician will be releasing in early 2019.