Founded on Goodbye by Kat Singleton
Fuck. This. Shit.
Derrick might as well be talking to a brick wall right now, because I’m not listening to a thing he’s saying. I’m too busy wallowing in my anger. This is yet another part of my tour I have zero control of.
Most of my slower songs are songs I poured my fucking soul into. They’re meant to be performed with just me on the stage. It’s supposed to be me, the fans, and the lyrics I’ve threaded myself into.
Now she’s ruined it.
And what’s worse is she doesn’t even realize it. She laps up every single word Derrick says like a damn dog. It’s borderline pathetic.
I’m not sure how he plans on making this song better—his words, not mine—but I’m betting that, come two weeks from now, she’ll have wasted all her time learning the choreography to this song.
Because while I’ve accepted that I’ll have dancers on my tour, what I’m not accepting is dancing to songs that were written as a way for me to connect with my audience.
Fat fucking chance.
“Ready to start?” Derrick asks, giving Nora a look that doesn’t sit well with me for whatever reason.
She gives him an enthusiastic nod, reaching over her head to stretch. Derrick averts his gaze as her perky tits jut out. Nora hasn’t bothered to hide much of her body in the outfit she chose to wear today. It’s the first thing I noticed when I walked into the studio today. Those athletic leggings of hers hug every curve and muscle of her legs. Forgoing wearing a shirt, she’s been dancing around in a sports bra all day that’s left little to the imagination.
I hate that my eyes were always on her, even in the moments she spent talking to someone other than me.
I’ve been wanting my attention anywhere but on her, but there’s something about the way she moves that makes it hard to look away.
Derrick was right when he pointed out how talented she was. I have no idea if she’s been on tour with another artist before or what her dancing resume even looks like, but it’s hard to miss her talent.
No matter how talented she is, though, I still don’t want to do a dance with just me and her. And I plan on letting Monica know it.
Yeah, that’ll be a no for me, sir.
Yet here I am, following Derrick into the center of the studio to get this shit show on the road.
For now, I’ll be a semi-good listener because I respect Derrick, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.
“This is what I envision…” Derrick begins, looking over at me. “Nash, you’ll be standing at the end of the catwalk, with your guitar,” the prick emphasizes, calling me out from my previous outburst of wanting it to just be me and my guitar for this song.
“For the beginning of the song,” he continues, “Nora will be behind you, her back against yours.” He points to the spot where he wants me to stand. As soon as I take my place, he grabs Nora by her shoulders, gently moving her until we are back-to-back.
Her narrow shoulders fall against my back, and I can tell the exact moment she takes a long breath in. The two of us angle our heads toward Derrick, waiting for his next instruction.
“Perfect.” He takes a step back, tilting his head. “I’m going to go get the song playing and walk you through what I imagine for the beginning of the song as it plays.”
His shoes squeak against the polished hardwood as he crosses the space to the speakers. While we wait for him to find the song, the song I’m dreading listening to on repeat, I step away from Nora. I don’t see any reason why we need to continue standing against each other while we aren’t practicing.
Pulling my phone from my shorts, I scroll through the infinite number of texts I’ve received in a short time. Most are other celebrities wondering what’s going on tonight. It’s no secret that wherever I go at night, the party comes with me. I don’t respond to any of them, not knowing what the hell I want to do with my night.
The quiet space is soon filled with the chords I’ve written. The strumming of my guitar, beginning the song. Before Derrick can turn around and find me as an unwilling participant, I step back until Nora and I are touching from shoulder to calf.
“Nash, you’ll have your guitar for this part,” Derrick says, stepping back toward us.
“You’ve said that,” I breathe out, tired of him throwing my words at me from earlier.
“And during that part, Nora, you’ll begin by standing still against him. As soon as…” he waits a few seconds, “this beat picks up, you’ll quickly turn around, hugging his back.”
Derrick pulls a remote from his pocket, then pauses the song. He stares at Nora for a moment until she realizes he wants her to follow his instructions.
She’s silent as I briefly lose the warmth of her body. Just as quickly as I lose it, it returns. Nora is rigid against me; clearly unsure what Derrick wants her to do next. Her temple presses into the space between my shoulder blades as she looks to Derrick for more direction.
Derrick steps forward, standing directly in front of me. He reaches around me, grabbing each one of her arms and pulling them underneath my own, placing them on my chest.
“Your hands will start here,” he instructs.
Her hands are warm through the thin fabric of my shirt. He spreads her fingers until one hand is splayed out over my right pec, right over my tattoo of a baby grand piano. The other hand falls low on my abdomen. My muscles tighten involuntarily beneath her touch.
Still holding her wrists, he drags each one of her hands over my body.
“What the fuck,” I mumble, feeling like I’m part of some weird threesome I didn’t sign up for.
“Your hands will be all over him. Remember he’ll have a guitar, so you’ll have to go underneath his arms and make sure you don’t get in the way of him playing.”
“Yeah, because I’m so used to being groped while performing,” I add, holding my arms in the odd position.
I wish I had my guitar in this moment. At least it would give me something to do with my hands. Right now, they’re just hanging in the air awkwardly.
“We’ll get a guitar in here so we can ensure it doesn’t distract him.” Derrick glares at me, taking a step back.
I laugh, unaffected by the scowl on his face. “I’m used to getting mauled by fans daily, hertouch is no different. It sure as hell won’t distract me.”
Her hands tighten on my shirt, a quick reaction to my words. “Well, that’s not what you said a second ago, asshole.”
Her little nickname for me is said under her breath, but I still don’t miss it. My lips twitch in a smile at her outburst.
It appears the sweet girl I met in that small office has some claws.
Maybe this will be fun.
“I was just pointing out how I don’t want you feeling me up to mess me up while I’m, ya know, still playing guitar,” I respond lazily under my breath.
“And I’m just pointing out that I’d rather not be feeling you up.” An aggravated sigh warms my back, her breath hot.
Chuckling, I look over my shoulder and make eye contact with her. “Keep telling yourself that, Rose.”
“Not my name,” she chides, looking to Derrick as if he has any power of turning my asshole tendencies off.
“Could we continue here?” I ask, looking down at where her hands still rest on my body. “I’d like to get this over with so I can go meet up with a girl whose hands I actually want on me.”
And it turns out there’s more spunk behind all her ass kissing, because she pinches me ever so slightly.
Derrick shakes his head, clearly not prepared for the two of us to be so difficult. “Sooo…” he says awkwardly, stepping closer to us once again. He pushes play on the music, talking loudly over it when he says, “Your hands will roam over him until the words begin.”
As if on cue, my voice surrounds us.
Derrick continues with, “As soon as the words start, you’ll step out to the left.”
Nora does just as he instructs, her body now only pressed against one side of my body.
We spend the next hour going over the beginning of the song. Until the chorus hits, she’s going to just basically crawl all over me in front of thirty-thousand people. Great. I don’t know how that’s supposed to entertain my fans more than if it was just me up there, but whatever. I’m attempting to be a good sport.
At least for two weeks, that is.
Derrick keeps emphasizing how sexy and sultry the song is, as if I didn’t fucking write it myself.
And apparently, because it is so sultry, he wants the sexual tension between us to be palpable. Again, not my words.
We’re now at the part where the chorus begins, and Derrick tells us this is the point where Nora will take it from me and do some fancy dance things to hand it to a crew member.
Then the real fun begins, because now I’m supposed to fucking slow dance with her, or as they refer to it, perform a contemporary number, all while I’m still singing.
I repeat: Fuck. This. Shit.