Authors: Helen Harper
‘You’re not lying now.’
Her eyes locked with his. ‘No. I’m not.’
His hand squeezed hers and they very slowly walked in companionable silence up to the front door.
.
The queue outside Nemesis snaked halfway down the street and seemed to be filled with giddy girls dressed up to the nines. Yuri gaped at it from the safety of the sleek car, which was just as well because it gave the chauffeur enough time to get out and open the door for her. Once out in the cool night air, she stepped up to the roped entrance, her invitation clutched in her sweaty palm. She needn’t have bothered, however, as the bouncers on the door immediately waved her in. Flashbulbs popped from the cluster of paparazzi hoping to catch a money shot of someone famous. Yuri gave them a quick smile as if to ruefully apologise for her lack of star power, and then she was being led inside by an excited looking brunette.
‘Oz said you can sit up in the VIP area and have a drink if you want. Or you can stay backstage.’ The brunette’s tone made it clear which was the more desirable option. Given her solo status, Yuri was inclined to agree, but she cast a glance up at the elevated area which was reserved for those deemed to be important enough anyway. Almost immediately, her eyes landed on the particularly arrogant looking man in the corner and she sucked in a breath. The last thing she’d expected would be to find the denizens of Olympus hanging around to enjoy some human music but, even without the faint glow that surrounded him to signify his god status, she’d have recognised Apollo. It was doubtful he’d remember her; after all, their one and only previous encounter had barely lasted a minute, but his presence still made her stiffen.
‘Backstage sounds good,’ she murmured to the girl, pulling out her phone to text Sibyl.
There’s a god at Nemesis,
she quickly typed, before pressing send.
Almost instantly she received a reply.
Club owned by
Helios. Minor. Nothing to worry about it.
Not Helios.
?
Apollo.
Shit. Orpheus fan?
Dunno.
Best to stay away.
Sound advice, Yuri thought, even if she was somewhat irritated by her friend’s inability to warn her that this was an Olympus hangout beforehand. She straightened her back and aimed for nonchalance. She had a gilded invitation for goodness’ sake and her reasons for being here were as far removed from the gods as it was possible to get. The irony of knowing there was at least one in the vicinity to watch Oz and his band wasn’t lost on her. Considering how he’d acted all those years ago when she’d tried to tell him about their existence, there was no way he’d believe they now counted among his fans. She shrugged then shoved her phone back into her bag and followed the girl, who deposited her in a small room complete with ice bucket, champagne and canapés.
‘I’ll tell Oz you’re here,’ the girl said, with a quick assessing look as if to ascertain why on earth someone of the rock star’s stature would be interested in Yuri.
Bristling slightly, Yuri inclined her head and picked up a blini, examining it as if she was accustomed to eating caviar and was searching for flaws in the tiny black eggs. The girl left and she immediately dumped it back onto the tray, her nose wrinkling. Yuck. Sitting down, she reached for the champagne instead, carefully popping the cork and pouring a glass, as much to give herself something to do as anything else. Then she leaned back and took a gulp, choking and spluttering as the bubbles less tickled her nose and more attacked with a vicious French ferocity.
‘You should be careful,’ said a familiar voice from the doorway, ‘you don’t want to get drunk. You might end up doing something you regret.’
Yuri’s eyes narrowed. She scanned Oz’s face but could detect nothing other than the pleasant smile of an acquaintance. Just to be perverse, she drained the rest of the glass and stood up.
‘Good to see you again,’ she said, briskly. She pulled out her notepad and pen and gazed at him askance, poised to take notes and be as utterly professional as possible. ‘Do you enjoy playing in such an intimate space? It’s a bit different to Wembley arena.’
His cheeks dimpled. ‘Oh, I love intimacy,’ he purred. ‘Now, put that silly notebook away. You can’t enjoy the music if you spend all your time scribbling away.’ He held out his hand towards her. ‘We’re about to go on.’
Without thinking, Yuri placed her palm in his. His hand was warm and dry, and he gave her just the tiniest squeeze. She felt a ripple of something indefinable trace its way down her spine. Cursing herself for a fool, she allowed him to lead her out and down the corridor, then round to the side of the stage.
‘Hey Yuri.’ Jono, the drummer, raised up his hand in acknowledgement. ‘Bokenasu,’ he added with a wink.
Yuri’s mouth dropped open and she half turned to Oz. ‘What…?’
He gave her hand another squeeze and the corner of his mouth crooked up. Then he released her and strode out onto the stage while the club filled with thrilled screams. Yuri gritted her teeth as she watched, tempted to smack herself on the forehead. His memory wasn’t that bad, after all. She should have known. She barely had time to absorb the revelation and to wonder why Oz had faked ignorance about who she was when Orpheus launched into their first song, the familiar notes of the intro belting out with the thrum of the bass. Oz cupped the microphone, lifting it up and starting to sing. Yuri realised that in person his voice had roughened and gained a maturity since she’d last heard him play live, with a timbre that somehow didn’t quite translate to the recorded version which regularly played on the radio.
‘He’s such a sex god,’ breathed the brunette from earlier who’d appeared by her side.
Yuri almost told her that he was far too good for the gods, when the song finished and his banter with the audience made her mouth go suddenly dry.
‘Off! Off! Off!’ the audience began to chant as he lifted up the corner of his brilliant white vest to mop off the sweat.
He grinned out at the crowd, teasing them by pulling it further up his hard, toned body so that his stomach was bared. ‘Is this what you want?’ he yelled.
There was a roar of approval. Yuri realised her fingers were clenching into tight fists while he removed his top completely, revealing his washboard stomach. The next song kicked in and he turned away from the wings so he could move closer to the audience and reach out to high five the numerous outstretched palms. As he moved, the tattoos on his back became visible: the lyre logo that represented Orpheus across his shoulder blades then, lower down, a single word written in beautiful dark cursive script. Trust. Yuri blinked hard, a knot of painful tears rising up in her throat. Then she spun round and pushed past the cluster of people at the side of stage and made a beeline for the bathroom. To add insult to injury, however, it was locked so Yuri slumped against the wall instead, her stomach churning and her heart beating a flurry of frightened wings against her chest. This wasn’t about a front cover for
Yell
– it was about Oz finally getting his revenge for the wrongs she had done him.
Feeling like a teenager again, Yuri closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. Except she wasn’t a teenager any longer. Neither was she one of the fainting, screaming hordes outside. She told herself she was better than this. After a while it seemed to work.
It took an age for the bathroom door to open, and a pale nauseous looking girl to exit. By that time, Yuri no longer cared. Although every molecule in her body was screaming at her to leave now, she knew that she couldn’t. Forget that her job would be on the line if she did; it was time to face the music, so to speak, and let Oz see out whatever plans he had already put in place. As much as it terrified her, she owed him that much. And if it made him feel better about what had happened between them so many years before, then so be it. Yuri had spent too long hiding from the world when she was a kid. She wasn’t that person any longer and she was determined to face up to her past. She reached deep down inside herself to find the strength she needed. She could do this.
Clenching her jaw and steeling her nerve, she walked back to the stage wings. The audience were still shrieking and Oz was still singing, with the rest of the band hammering out the music behind him. The people around the stage were grinning at each other and singing along, buoyed up on the energy and melodic fluidity of Orpheus. Yuri just watched, her face impassive.
‘We only have time for one more song,’ Oz intoned into the microphone. The audience booed heartily. ‘I promise you that you’ll enjoy it though.’ He glanced to his left, his green eyed gaze finding Yuri. Something unfathomable flickered across his face, then he shot her one quick, tight smile before turning his attention back to the crowd.
‘This is for Yuri,’ he said, and her heart seemed to stop beating.
Remember when we were young
You caught my heart and made me strong
You fought the ocean and the waves for me
And in return I did you wrong.
You made me laugh and made me smile
Your jet black hair and lack of guile
You made me see what life could be
And in return I did you wrong.
Now that the years had swept past
I’ve realised the truth at last
You gave the whole wide world to me
And in return I did you wrong.
Remember when we had hope
Because now I know that I can’t cope
Unless you will let yourself see
Just what it is you mean to me.
Felix, the guitarist, cut in with a wrenching solo but Yuri couldn’t rip her eyes away from Oz. He didn’t look at her again but the line of tension in his taut body was palpable. The sounds of the audience and the bopping movements of the people around her faded away in the distance until it seemed as if it was just her and Oz, with not another soul in the room. Her brain was struggling to make sense of his words, but it seemed as if part of her brain just wasn’t allowing them to compute. She’d been the one that had screwed everything up, not him.
When the chorus came round again, the entire club rose up with the band, catching on quickly to the words. Yuri just wrapped her arms around herself. She stared down at her prim and proper suit and wished she’d done something to make herself look better. The biggest rock star in England was singing about her and she looked as if she’d stepped out of a catalogue for office supplies. Not to mention the fact that the last time he saw her she’d had the stench of alcohol seeping from her pores and a green tinge to her skin.
Eventually the last notes of the song died away. Oz stepped forward, bending forward in a dramatic bow. The other members of Orpheus joined him while the audience screamed and shouted and begged for more. They were, however, to be denied. One by one, they left the lights of the stage. Oz blew out one kiss to his fans, then he too was gone and the lights dimmed. As soon as he was out of the limelight he moved in front of Yuri, taking her hands in his. His bare skin gleamed with sweat and he was breathing hard while his eyes burned into her soul.
‘How about it?’ he asked softly. ‘Fancy giving me another chance?’
Yuri opened her mouth then closed it again. She took a deep breath, realising that her skin was tingling and there was a strange fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach. Then hands were pulling Oz away while she blinked and he looked abruptly stricken.
‘Oz!’ boomed Helios as he took him away. ‘That was wonderful, simply wonderful!’
Yuri attempted to go after them, but the crowd of people who’d been watching the show from the wings surged ahead of her, closing off the space. In the end she could only watch helplessly as Oz was swallowed up by the gushing people. Moving her hand to her heart, she felt it thump and licked her lips.
‘Yes,’ she whispered after him. ‘Yes.’
Unfortunately for Yuri, the words of the song and the look in Oz’s eyes had dulled the rest of her senses. She was so focused on staring after him and wondering what in the hell she was supposed to do next, that she didn’t register the odd prickling sensation on the back of her neck. So she didn’t turn round to see the shadowy muscular figure glaring at her from the floor of the club with a fixated snarl. If she had, she would have clocked the long curving scar that ran from the figure’s ear to his chin, along with the fact that he towered monstrously over all the other Nemesis patrons. She might then have begun to realise the danger that she was in. But as it was, and much like any suddenly lovestruck person anywhere in the world, her thoughts were filled only with starbursts of happiness.