Stage Intervention (Original Work)

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Holly’s heartbroken, but she’s still got a job to do. Based on the prompt, “smudge.”

Thanks, Reb, for helping me clean it up! 

Holly sniffled and used her pinky fingers as delicately as she could to wipe away the moisture gathering at the edges of her eyes. She was furious at herself for this. She didn’t have time for these stupid, boiling emotions right now and she definitely didn’t have time to re-apply her winged eyeliner that had turned out damned near perfect for once. Crying was useless and frustrating, but smudging her eyeliner was, at this moment, completely unacceptable. It was bad enough her eyes would be a little red and puffy. People would notice because that’s just the kind of luck she had. No, the audience wouldn’t notice. With the lights and the distance from the edge of the stage, they wouldn’t be able to tell, and she could definitely blame it on house lights if needed.

Yelling at herself in her head about the stupid emotions hadn’t stopped the waterworks yet, so she decided she try another tactic.

“Okay, girl, I know this sucks. This is going in the top ten worst moments of your life thus far, but you also have shit to do. We can cry about this later.” She hoped no one heard her speech, because giving herself a pep talk out loud sounded weird enough without also referring to herself in the third person. It didn’t matter. Someone thinking she was a little quirky was about the last thing she needed to worry about right now.

Her father would tell her she was being overly dramatic, and she briefly wondered if he was right, but he was an asshole who didn’t seem to have any emotions other than minor disappointment and exasperated annoyance anymore. Thinking of her dad, Samuel Jeffery Morgan the Third, helped a little. Her anger with him distracted her from her sadness, so she clung to it like a lifeboat.

This was his fault anyway. Now, she couldn’t even be sure she would’ve met Isabelle if it wasn’t for him because she didn’t know if he’d bribed the guitarist before or after Holly had hired her. She’d thought maybe there was something between them, something deep and abiding, but perhaps that was all smoke and mirrors, and Holly was only a paycheck. She felt the stab to the chest again.

Fuck, she thought.

“Holly?” The sound of the stage manager’s voice helped her refocus. She had a performance to do. There wasn’t any time for any of this. Her dad had very strategically made it so that she’d found out about Isabelle right before she had to sing on stage in front of the largest audience she’d ever had because he wanted not only to prove that he was right but also break her confidence. This was just another ploy to make her quit singing and come back home to work in his company where he could control her life and her choices. Well, she wasn’t going to let him win.

“I’m here. What’s the countdown, Margie?”

“Five minutes,” Margie answered. The woman moved like she was going to walk away, then paused and looked back. “Are you okay?”

Holly took a deep breath and decided she was going to pour every single emotion into singing tonight, and the audience was going to feel everything with her just from her voice. “I’m going to be. I’m going to kick ass.”

Margie smiled. “Hell yeah, you are.”

******

The stage was Holly’s safe place as long as she could remember. Sometimes she had pre-show jitters, but as soon as both her feet planted on the stage, any shadows made by fears and worries dispersed under the hot, bright lights of the venue. The lights couldn’t dispel her emotions tonights, deeply rooted and tangled in her being as they were, but the lights did shift her perspective of them. So she forced every thread of hurt and frustration into her voice as she sang.

The audience responded. It wasn’t a big venue, only about a 1,000 people could fit in the space, but it was packed. This was definitely her biggest show yet, and for all her heartache, or maybe because of it, the show felt like the best she’d ever done. Every single person in the crowd swayed and sang with her. When she held the mic out for them to sing a line, a wave of sound crashed over her and shook her bones.

Something in her chest had loosened as she sang and now breathing was a little easier as she made her way down the right wing. Margie found her only a few steps into the dim hall, a giant smile on her face.

“They’re calling for an encore,” the other woman told her, smile in place and something that looked a little like pride in her eyes.

“Really?”

Margie nodded. “Really. Ready to do one more song?”

Holly laughed, relief and pride shoving down all the other mess of feelings she had. “Absolutely.”

*****

By the end of the night, Holly was a puddle of sweat and exhaustion huddled in a smoker’s nook behind the venue and away from prying eyes, at least for the moment. The day had worn her out emotionally, physically, and socially and the thing about being on tour was that you were never really alone. Holly knew Isabelle would be approaching her soon. They would have to talk. Holly poked the emotional wound with a metaphorical finger and found that it didn’t hurt quite like she’d expected it to.

People had swarmed Holly after the show to compliment on how well she’d sung, how good she’d sounded, and how amazed they were. The praise made her warm and content, and the peacefulness of it was helping her think more clearly about everything. Now, thinking about what her father had told her, she still felt betrayed and hurt, but she now also thought she should get Isabelle’s side of the story first. Holly’s father did have a way of being dishonest and hurtful without being dishonest. She wondered if Isabelle even knew that Holly’s father had thrown her under the bus. Probably not. Holly huffed to herself. Best to hear the other side of the story.

It didn’t take Holly long to find Isabelle, she only had to follow the sounds of gentle strumming interspersed with pencil scratching on paper and the occasional soft mumbled curse. On a travel bus, there was only so much room, and so far you could stray from it without a tongue lashing from the tour manager, Bill, who was crankier than an old wet cat in a bubble bath and could carve diamonds with his words. For once, though, Holly was glad for the proximity.

Everything would be back on the road soon, but the driver still had a few more hours of mandatory rest before they got on the road, so Isabelle had created a little spot for herself on one side of the bus with a few camping chairs sitting in one and using one as a table, the third sitting empty. Holly thought it might be for her.

“Is this seat taken?” Holly asked as she approached.

Isabelle looked up from her guitar and her scribbles of notes, eyes lit with obvious pleasure as she tried to smile around the pencil she had in her mouth. Holly didn’t think anyone could fake that kind of happiness at seeing someone. Isabelle set her guitar in the stand Holly hadn’t realized was sitting on the ground beside the other woman and placed the pencil with the notebook on the chair she was using as a table.

“Hey, you! I was looking for you earlier. Are you okay? You gave a phenomenal performance tonight, but Margie told me that you seemed upset before the show.”

“It was a pretty great show, wasn’t it?” Holly felt her lips twitch.

Isabelle’s smile was soft, but her tone was firm. “It was beyond great, and everyone who came was riveted.” She lowered her voice to add, “If you don't want to talk about what was bothering you, I get it.” Her expression grew sad, almost hurt after she said the words but she cleared the expression from her face quickly. Holly only saw it because she’d been studying Isabelle’s face so intently.

Holly was beginning to wonder if Isabelle often felt that hurt sadness, but hid it most of the time. The thought of it made Holly’s gut twist. She was supposed to be upset with Isabelle, or at least if what her father said was true, she was going to be pissed and devastated. But having seen Isabelle’s face when the woman thought Holly might not confide in her, Holly doubted, even more, the veracity of her father’s claims.

“I do need to talk about it, actually. But I need to ask you a question first.”

Isabelle’s face furrowed with confusion. “Ask away.”

“How do you know my father?”

Isabelle made a face. “Can I be honest?”

Holly's heart stuck in her throat, but she managed to speak around it. “Please do.”

“Your father seems like kind of a dick.”

Holly choked on a laugh. “Oh, he’s a dick. No ‘kind of.’ I’ve known that most of my life, but what makes you say that?”

Isabelle winced. “He found me when we were in New York and tried to pay me to check up on you. I mean he handed me actual money. Like an envelope full of cash.” She made a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “I look after someone when I love them, but not for money.”

“So you gave the money back then?”

“Of course I… Wait, did he tell you he paid me to… to what? Jesus, is this what upset you earlier? He told you he paid me to be your… friend?”

Tears welled in Holly’s eyes again, sharp and quick. There was no stopping them this time. She was relieved and happy, and with the weight lifted, she finally felt free. Holly closed her eyes, letting the tears fall down her cheeks and laughing at herself for being so ridiculous.

Instantly, Holly felt Isabelle’s thumbs wiping at the tears on her cheeks and without thinking she leaned into the touch. It felt so good, so right to have Isabelle’s hands on her, gently holding her face.

“Holly, please don’t cry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it when it happened, but I just thought… I just thought it wouldn’t do you any good to hear the story.”

Holly snapped her eyes open, just realizing something Isabelle had said. “Wait, you said I was someone you love.”

Isabelle’s fair face flushed a deep shade of red, she’d pulled her hands away quickly and know stared at them in her lap. “You know what I meant. You’re my friend.”

“My father thought you were my girlfriend,” Holly added. Isabelle flushed even darker. “I didn’t exactly dissuade him of the notion either.”

Isabelle was still flushed, but she did look up, eyes so full of hope and hesitation, Holly’s heart tripped over itself. If any time was the time to take a risk, Holly figured that time was now. “I would’ve said something sooner, but generally it’s a terrible idea for bandmates to get romantically involved.”

Isabelle laughed. “I think maybe we should try anyway.” She was still blushing, but it seemed like she was flushed with happiness now instead of embarrassment.

“I’d like that, very much,” Holly confessed and kissed Isabelle like she’d wanted to for months.