Chapter Two
Eighteen Photographs
Can't make me
Won't make me
Can't shake me
Won't break me down...
"The biggest haul yet!" Darius exclaims, hefting three canvas bags over his shoulder. He drops them on the fur rug in front of Jude and the Spiederman boys. "Keep yourselves occupied with these until Kwest is finished with Patsy," he instructs.
The boys crow in excitement as Darius retreats to his office. They tear into the bags and dump the contents to the floor; three mini-mountains of fan mail. Wally chooses an envelope at random and opens it.
"Dear Jude," he reads in a goofy falsetto. "I love you soooooo much. You're my idol! And your bassist is sooooo cool!" The other two scoff.
"It so does not!" Wally protests.
"It does." He and Spiederman exchange a glance before tackling the smaller boy to the ground and grabbing for the letter.
"You boys need a new hobby," Jude proclaims in a bored tone. Spiederman's head pops up from the pile of grappling teenage boys on the floor.
"Like you're so above it all," he teases. "Who wouldn't want fifteen pounds worth of adoration?" As if to prove his point, he picks up a manila envelope and tosses it into her lap. With a sheepish smile, Jude drops her magazine to catch it.
"That's the spirit!" Kyle urges as she slides a fingernail under the flap. It's heavy for a fan letter, and has no return address listed. Maybe I've got my very first creepy stalker, Jude muses.
Inside the envelope, she feels the edge of a stack of photographs. They slide into her lap and land with a plop. When she sees the top photo, Jude lets out an audible gasp.
"What's the matter, dude?" Spiederman asks, eyebrow furrowed in concern. Jude draws a shaky breath.
"Nothing," she murmurs unconvincingly.
Darius' office is his sanctuary; and it's a well-known fact that those who disturb Darius' sanctuary are signing their own death certificates. There's a collective gasp from the Spiederman boys as Jude charges in without knocking, but she doesn't even seem to notice.
Darius is poring over papers at his desk. His head pops up from his work when Jude enters, eyes flashing in anger.
"What's wrong with you, girl? You forget how to knock?" Jude's hands and knees are shaking, but she manages to make it across the office and drop the photos, envelope and all, in front of him. As Darius' jaw goes slack, Jude collapses into one of the plush chairs in front of his desk. "Oh, Jude," he murmurs.
She feels like someone is wrapping their fingers their fingers around her lungs, squeezing as hard as they can. Her mouth is dry, her heart pounding, her body frozen in place. Darius is fuming, smoke practically coming out of his ears, but when he takes in Jude's terrified expression and posturing, he softens. He pulls up another chair next to the one she's glued to.
"You're a good kid, Jude," he says, resting one large arm across her narrow shoulders. "You just don't think sometimes and you go off all half-cocked."
"I hate that I keep screwing up," she bemoans, and her throat is scratchy and raw. "I don't want to let you down."
"I know that." Jude turns her head to look him in the eye, and his expression is one full of concern. She looks back on the days of being terrified of Darius with nothing but amusement. It's bad for his reputation and all, but Jude knows that the music mogul is a big softie. He's gruff and he pushes harder than Georgia and EJ ever did, but she knows that she owes a large portion of her success to him.
"We'll figure this out," he promises.
The envelope is stuffed full of photos, but one in particular catches Jude's attention.
She's smiling. The guy...how sad is it that she can't even remember his name? His arm is thrown around her waist and they're both grinning hugely at the camera.
It seems like an odd choice to include with a blackmail note - after all, it's not incriminating her in anything. She can only assume that he means to convey that her part in this was largely consensual. Whatever the reason, it's the one that she can't keep her eyes off of.
If you didn't know what was going on, you'd think they were a couple. If you didn't know Jude, you'd think she looked happy.
She doesn't.
All she can think now, looking at it, is that his hair is too light, his arms too skinny, his hair too unruly, his features too ordinary. There's only one person that Jude can ever see herself with, and this picture is the equivalent of receiving that revelation through a slap to the face.
But Tommy's gone, and Jude knows that she's got a decision to make. She can either sit and pine, or she can move on.
She allows herself a night to sleep on it. When she wakes up in the morning, she tears the picture to shreds. Each of the seventeen others follow in rapid succession, and the scraps get tossed into the fireplace.
Jude lights the flue and takes a deep breath. She feels lighter.
Darius calls her into his office almost as soon as she arrives to the studio. When she enters, Liam is standing behind him. She wants to complain about the other man's inclusion in this, but at the end of the day Liam is a partner in G-Major. And she really isn't in the position to be making demands.
"I talked to a friend of mine," Darius says. "He's managed some big names, and he's dealt with this kind of thing before. He thinks this guy is looking for a confrontation, and I think he's right. So here's what we're gonna do: we're gonna pay him the money. You're gonna pay half, and I'm gonna pay half."
"Darius, no!" Jude protests. "This is my mess to clean up." Darius shakes his head.
"If you could clean it up all by yourself, you wouldn't be here right now. Look this may be bad for your image, but I can't fault you for going out and having a good time. You got yourself into a bad situation, and that was an accident. If you never do anything for fear of bad press, that's no way to live." Liam looks like he's about to shit a brick, but he wisely keeps his opinions to himself.
"If this guy gets pissed and decides to post the pictures out of spite, or if they somehow get leaked, you may need to do some damage control," Darius continues. "I know we weren't planning on a second tour for you just yet, but you've been out of the public eye for awhile. Your fans are gonna jump all over the first thing they hear, and we'd rather it be something positive than something negative."
"So you're sending me out on tour again?" Jude asks. The prospect is actually quite appealing - away from it all, just her and the boys messing around and having fun.
"Well, it's a little late to plan an entire tour for you. We're making you the opening act for Mason. Just like Barrie - he'll do his thing, you'll sing a song or two. We won't have you do every show, we won't have any sort of plan. You and your band can decide when you want to play, what songs you want to play." Jude is astounded.
"D, this is...an amazing opportunity," she says in awe. "But why does it feel like I'm being rewarded for screwing up?"
"You're not getting rewarded for anything," Liam pipes up. "It's business, Ms. Harrison. If people don't know for sure whether you're going to be perform or not, they'll be more likely to buy tickets in hopes that you do. It's good publicity for you, because it makes you look like a caring friend. And it means increased ticket sales and a broader audience for Mr. Fox." Even his sneer and uncaring delivery can't take away from just how incredible this all is. Jude breaks out into a grin.
"When do I leave?"
The bus is loaded, Wally and Spiederman are thumb-wrestling inside, and Kyle is predictably late. Jude and Darius stand shoulder-to-shoulder on the sidewalk as they wait, both trying to pretend like it isn't cold enough to catch hypothermia in under four minutes. Their breath mingles in front of them in tangles of wispy white frost.
"The next time he does this he's getting duct-taped to his bunk," Jude mutters. Darius chuckles.
"I wouldn't want to be on your bad side," he says. It's an obvious segue, and Jude rocks back on her heels as she braces herself for the inevitable.
"Heard from Tom?" he asks. Jude huffs out a laugh, her cloud of breath momentarily overtaking his.
"No," she says simply. She thinks Darius wants to pry, but he stays silent. The bus rocks behind them as the boys' friendly game turns into a scuffle. Jude clenches her gloved fists in her pockets.
From the distance, they hear the roar of an engine, and suddenly Kyle is squealing to a halt in front of the studio. He pulls a duffel bag from the backseat, his cheeks flushed and his expression apologetic.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," he insists, hopping up the stairs onto the bus. Wally and Spiederman shout at him, then Wally pokes his head out the window.
"All right, let's go!" he urges. Jude looks over at Darius. It's been over a week, and she's still waiting for the other shoe to drop - for a lecture, a snide comment...but there have been none.
"Better get in there," he says, knocking her shoulder with his. Jude smiles at him, turning and making her way up the steps. Before the doors close, she turns to see Darius' back disappearing inside.
"Hey, D!" she calls. His head whips around. "I'm glad you bought the studio." Darius grins.
"Me too."