The Other Side of Love

Chapter 3

Annabel

    Make-up artists and hair stylists flutter around the large backstage room, working furiously on each of the performers. My make-up is done and I have two attendants curling and styling my hair. Lissa hovers behind me, checking for invisible flaws and making sure my theme for the evening is perfectly executed. My eyes are smoky and my lips are painted a deep red, my Cupid bow pronounced into a deep pout. The angles of my face and cheekbones are severe.

    I glance at the large-screen television mounted on a corner of the wall. A reporter gestures wildly at the camera, large crowds of people milling about behind her. She is talking about a young girl, found murdered in a dumpster the night before. The reporter doesn't give details about how she was murdered and announces they are waiting for the official police report. At the bottom of the screen are two pictures. One is of the identified girl, Jennifer Arctic, a pale brilliant looking girl, brown-eyed and red-headed with a practiced smirk curling her lips. The other is a fuzzed out picture of her body, of which I can only make out tangled limbs.

    I feel a pang of sadness for this girl, who woke up on a morning on what should be a normal day, only to be blindsided so irrevocably. I don't linger on my sadness too much because if I do I'm going to get mad at the world and start ranting and not stop, and my current company don't care to see the psycho unhinged side of their precious celebrity. I turn away from the TV, and offer up a prayer for the girl. I hope the police catch her killer soon.

    The hair stylists are doing their finishing touches. My hair is swept up in a complex hairdo and curled strands fall delicately to frame my face, a contrast to its harsh lines. The boss of the trio gives their work a critical look and gives a nod of accent, indicating their job is done.

    My phone rings and Lissa helps me fish it out of my purse. Kimberly. I pick it up immediately.

    "Ugh, I've been trying to reach you since forever." She says without preamble.

    "What's the problem, shouldn't you be in court?" I ask her, not really concerned because Kimberly is not the kind of person to have problems. Her life is simple and predictable and if something unwanted pops up, she whacks it back till her life is back to a smooth formation again.

    "Nope, no court hearing today. How could I possibly miss my best friend's live performance? I'm here for moral support if you need one." I hear a door slam on her side.

    "Geez, I'm singing, not facing a firing squad. You're the one I should be worried about. How's the case going?"

    She groans. "Not the case, anything but the case. Swarovski is determined to win this one. Anyone with two eyes and half a brain can see that guy is guilty as f**k. It's just my gut. There is no solid evidence against him buh I'm working on it. I have this lead, a witness..." Her voice trails off and I can almost see her twisting her hair around her fingers painfully in frustration. Kimberly is a prosecutor, one of the best in her field with a success rate of about 95%. She is a total hotshot and one of my closest friends.

    "First things Kim, release your hair. It's not guilty of anything." There is a pause as I'm sure she glances at her hand and then she laughs.

    "Damn I need to get rid of that habit. I'll be bald by forty!" She exclaims and I hear her pop something into her mouth.

    I glance behind me to see Lissa beside my gown for the evening. She motions me forward urgently and begins stripping the mannequin. I walk towards her.

    "You will. And Kim, take a break, get some fresh air, don't fret. You will put the bastard behind bars, I know you will. And if you don't we'll make a voodoo doll of Swarovski and stab the flipping sh*t out of him while invoking spirits." Lissa helps me disrobe.

    "As much as that idea is as tantalizing as the apple of sin, I'm not letting him have this one. I miss you babe. Go on, I'll be watching you live." She says.

     "Talk later!" I drop the phone and Lissa is already shoving my arm into a sleeve.

    "We have seven minutes to get you ready." And she doesn't even sound annoyed. She adores Kim.

    She smoothens the gown over my body, cinching and tying the strings at the back.

    The silver gown is sleeveless, with a plunging neckline down to my navel, showcasing skin. The back of the gown is as low as my waist, and my back is crisscrossed by delicate silver strings. It cinches at my waist then smoothens over my hips in ruffles before flaring out, swirling around my legs and spilling onto the floor. Diamonds and sequins flash from various parts of my body, a diamond dangles from the slim choker at my neck, little diamonds hang from large pendant earrings and another flashes at my finger next to a ruby. My heels are a deep ruby colour to complete the look. I feel delicate and feminine, and expensive as sin.

    Lissa adds some finishing touches and then someone rushes in to announce I'm up next.

    I wink at her and move forward into a small dark hallway. I move to stand before a huge doorway and smoothen a hand down my dress. The previous performers, a group of comedians, round up and are escorted out of the stage with thundering applause. The theatre lights dim and a lone spotlight is on the MC who is making a speech to rile the audience. I am escorted to the dark stage and positioned in the center where I strike a pose. After a few moments, the MC introduces me and beautiful flashing lights rotate onto the stage. A huge spotlight bathes me in its light and to my side I see the backup dancers. We hold our pose.

    The audience comes alive. There are posters, large pictures of me and declarations of love floating above the huge audience held by upraised arms.

    "A.NNA.BEL! A.NNA.BEL! A.NNA.BEL!" They shout my name, filling the suspenseful music that permeates the theatre from the speakers.

    The beat of my song begins and my fans' shouts die down. The song is one of my soulful ones, a slow mournful piece. I begin singing, pitching my voice low and hitting the note. The dancers undulate around me. I let myself be, for this moment, everything I am, my highs and my lows, my worries and my joys, nothing matters right now. I am just Annabel, reaching out to the world the way I know best. The audience is rapt, fully under my spell.

    The chorus is forceful. I infuse my voice with power and break the stage with my will.

    When the song dies down and my dancers slowly glide to their knees around me, the audience is speechless, emotional. Then almost everyone rises and the applause nearly rips apart the sky.

    ...............................................................

    I look around the large room, brightly illuminated and beautifully decorated. Large heaps of dishes and desserts rest on a wide circular glass table that takes up nearly an entire wall of the room. The show host, Lauren Mackenzie, has thrown the small party to celebrate the success of the evening and to appreciate our efforts and supports. It's exclusive and consists only of the elite. On a large podium, a woman bends over a piano while another twirls delicately to the notes.

    I take a sip of my wine, and laugh, pretending to find Mark Deaton funny. He is a world-wide famous singer and a total bore. He is going on about the scandal he was involved in with Maddison Burglar, hitching a laugh when he thinks he said something funny. I think he is nervous and that is hilarious. He is more internationally famous and successful than I am and the only thing I want with him is a collaboration. Because despite the ability to put me to sleep right where I'm standing, the guy can sing! His voice can bring ancient warriors to tears. And that's why I'm putting up with this.

    Sheila Thompson, a famous reality TV star spots me and immediately sees my dilemma. She weaves through the crowd of socialites and people clamouring for a piece of her time towards me and I smile at her appreciatively. She is a small cute woman. She's twenty eight and looks like she's in her early twenties. Her hair is dyed a vivid pink and very high heels add alot of height to her stature.

    "Sorry to interrupt, can I steal her for a moment?" She loops her arm through mine and pulls, not waiting for his reply.

    I give him my most apologetic and regretful smile. "We'll take later, Mark." He smiles good-naturedly and I allow Sheila to pull me along.

     "It's hard for me to say this because that's one God-blessed motherf**ker right there buh noone should be forced to spend more than 30 seconds talking to Mark." She says under her breath.

    We are stopped by Allison Dungstone, and we smile and make small talk.

    "That was a heart wrenching performance, Annabel. I am blown away everytime I see you in action. I really am your most loyal fan." Allison gushes. She is in a sheer piece. Pieces of cloth cover her breasts and groin and the rest of the dress is basically black net draped artfully around her body. Considering she is one of the most talented dancers, with her slim willowy frame that she wields like a weapon, a tremendously large fanbase and a very busy life, she scarcely has time to be anyone's loyal fan but I appreciate the sentiment.

    "You flatter me, Allison. You're not too shabby yourself." The dancer smiles.

    I look up and across the room and my gaze catches Robb Duncan's. I feel a jolt of panic as he begins excusing himself from his partner to make his way over to me. I feel my phone buzz against my skin and dig it out, seeing an incoming video call from Julian.

    "Excuse me ladies. Sheila, I owe you one." I say and quickly make my way to the female restroom, narrowly escaping an awkward conversation with my ex.

    I close the door of the restroom behind me and exhale audibly, my breath blowing my hair out of my face. Just like everything else in the house, the restroom is luxurious. The floor is tiled a deep mahogany and realistic art crawls up the walls, reaching for the roof. There are already some ladies in the room and I exchange pleasantries with them before entering a stall and sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. I press the button to answer my call.

    "Hey. Your performance was mind blowing but I'm sure you know that." Julian sits on his bed, his back resting against his headboards. I'm surprised he is not asleep. He is usually one of the earliest and fastest sleepers I know. I glance at the time. 12:39. He is peering into his phone with a frown. "Are you in a toilet?"

    "I'm not back yet. Mackenzie threw a party to celebrate his party and here I am. I'm tapped out for today actually. All I'm thinking of right now is my soft hotel bed and softer pillows." I say, relaxing back into the tank.

    "That's not normal for you. You live for the high life. What's the problem?"

    I think of Robb, our horrible relationship and Julian losing his cool one of very few times ever, when he saw my black eye.

    "I saw Robb. Nothing happened of course but I think he was gonna talk to me." I say.

    Julian stiffens, swearing under his breath. "I told him if he ever approaches you he's going to spend the rest of his life behind bars. He thinks I was joking right? I didn't even know he's in Texas. What the f**k is he doing there? I'll call the police on him right now." I nearly burst out laughing. He is like a bear when he's riled. A cute overprotective bear.

    "You can't call the police on him cos he traveled, Julian. Technically he hasn't done anything wrong. What will you be reporting?" I ask him.

    "I don't know, crime waiting to happen? Isn't that the kind of information the police should cherish? He has no right to even look at you. I could sue him for that. It's like what are you looking at her for, are you thinking up new ways to blacken her eye?" He looks at me, sees my lips twitching and huffs. I burst out laughing.

    "You're not even taking this seriously." He sighs.

    "And you're taking this too seriously. I can handle him you know, I prefer not to, no need to sully my mood and all, but if I have to, you know I can take him by the balls." He doesn't look convinced and since I know he is stubborn enough to call the police after this call, just to stir them to Robb's direction I continue. "Don't call the police Julian, I'm sick of them. I'm going straight to my hotel when I end this call. I'll give him a wide berth and if he talks to me it won't be my fault he set himself up to be publicly embarrassed cos I'm gonna leave him dis-graced." I stress.

    He looks like he's not finished arguing so I cut in. "I'm hanging up now. I think I feel a headache coming."

    "Alright go on then. When's your flight tomorrow?"

    "In the evening. I can't afford to be dragged out of bed early tomorrow. See ya!"

    "Okay bye." He says and ends the call. I sigh and rub my forehead, I do feel a little headache coming on.

    I quickly use the restroom and come out of the stall, going to a mirror stand. There are only three ladies now, two fixing their makeup and one smoking. My hair is down, the waves cascading off a shoulder. I am in a thigh-high green dress and black knee length heels. I wash my hands and swipe some toilet paper to wipe them off. I fish my nude lipgloss out of my purse and swipe it across my lips, smacking them together. Satisfied with my look once again, I dump the gloss into my purse and stride out of the restroom.

    Sheila is on the other end of the room talking with Ada Munroe and munching on a piece of cake. I search around for Lauren Mackenzie himself and find him smiling and talking with someone unfamiliar. Robb is not in the room. Thanking my good fortune, I make my way towards Mr. Mackenzie, smiling and darting around people that want to stop me to talk. He looks up as I approach.

    "Annabel." He says warmly. "Kelly, this is Annabel Smith. Annabel, Kelly Thatcher." He introduces me to his companion and I shake hands with him.

    "Everyone knows Annabel." Mr. Thatcher says. "Enchanted to meet you."

    I smile at him. "The pleasure is mine, Mr Thatcher." I turn to Mr Mackenzie. "The evening has been truly magical Mr. Mackenzie. But I'm afraid I have to leave early. Thank you for having me."

    "It's been an honour to have you with us tonight. I hope we can do this again sometime. Perhaps somewhere a bit more private I hope." Lauren Mackenzie says.

    I arch a brow. He is a handsome man, nicely built. But my mind trails to him, the man in the pub, Stefan.

    Thoughts of him have haunted me all day. He didn't call me, a shame. I am driven to distraction by memories of his lips and his hands. I force my mind back to Mr. Mackenzie and hope my revulsion to his flirting doesn't show on my face. While he might be attractive, I've subconsciously compared him to that damn fool, Stefan and he is woefully lacking. And he is at least twice my age.

    "Perhaps." I reply vaguely.

     ..............................................................

    My driver, who I've learnt is called John, opens the car door for me and I step out. He looks rested and I assume he slept while waiting for me to round up at Mr. Mackenzie's. I move to the double doors which slide open silently. The hotel lobby is almost empty, only a few people staggering their way out of the bar or milling about on their ways to their rooms. I enter a lift alone and ascend.

    My hallway is quiet, the only noise is the sound of an elevator opening and somebody talking. I consider checking up on Lissa but decide against it. She must be asleep by now. Though I'm interested in hearing how she spent her evening, I'm conscious of not intruding on her private life too much.

    I push my key card into the slot, swipe down and my door slides open. The heating system wafts out and almost makes me purr.

    My door closes behind me with a snick. I head to the vanity and drop my purse. The earrings and necklace come off next and I stretch, already feeling lighter. I swipe some out of the pack of baby wipes and clean the nude off my lips. I wipe my face with some more wipes and consider taking a shower. I normally take one every night before bed but today I'm exhausted. I figure there's no way I can fall asleep with all the grime of the entire night anyway and decide to take a quick one. I unzip my boots and step out of them. Moving to the wardrobe, I twist around to get at the zip of my gown and stop mid-twist.

    There's something in the middle of my bed. I can't believe I missed it before because it is the only spot of colour on the large white bed. I move forward and peer at it.

    My mind refuses to catch up to what my eyes are seeing. I blink and blink, certain my mind must be playing games on me. And then I'm scrambling back, some pillows falling to the ground in my haste.

    Right in the middle of my bed is a lock of red hair, made even more red by the dried crusty blood soaking it. It's a shocking contrast.

    I must have made some noise because someone is knocking insistently on my door. I jump and rush to check the peephole. Lissa. Relieved, I open the door for her and she takes one look at my face and looks around the room. Her gaze falls on the lock of hair and she gasps.

    I come out of my daze to see her ending a call, presumably to the police. The blood is drained out of her face and her hand shakes, clenching her phone to the point of shattering it had she had the power.

    I look at the blood-soaked hair again, at what can only be a threat and shiver. I have a feeling about who sent me this.