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Authors: Ginger Voight

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BOOK: Unstoppable (Fierce)
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So I peeled off my clothes and jumped into a frag
rant bubble bath, trying to fill my mind with much nicer thoughts… like what I was going to do to him when he finally got back to my room that night. I didn’t even bother dressing after I toweled off. I wrapped myself in a thick, complementary robe and crawled into bed to wait. After about a half hour, I turned on the TV.

I dozed off
before he came to bed, awaking only as the bed shifted under his weight. I glanced at his darkened silhouette. “Have a good nightcap?”

“Yeah, sorry that took so long,” he said as he slipped out of his pants, then curled up next to me on the bed. “She needed to talk.”

“About what?” I asked as casually as I could as I gently trailed a finger across his chest.

“She’s really freaked out about tomorrow. She thinks they’ll figure out she’s no model and send her packing. She’s panicked she won’t be good enough.” He gathered me into his arms. “I had to talk her down from the cliff,
and let her know she’s perfect as is.”

My gut tightened. “How did you do that?”

His eyes searched for mine in the darkness. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been gone a couple of hours. That sounds like you had to do some major convincing. Was it all at the bar?”

He propped himself up on one arm. “What are you asking me, Jordi?”

“How long does it take to convince a pretty girl she’s pretty?”

“You tell me,” he said as he bent his head towards mine. He kissed me softly. “I’ve been trying to convince you for almost a year.”

I ducked away from his kiss and pulled the covers up almost to my chin. “Oh, please. It’s not the same thing and you know it.”

“Isn’t it?” he coaxed softly as he tugged the covers down. “My opinion is the same, only the people are different. Why does she have to agree any faster than you do? Don’t I get to say who I think is pretty?”

He scooted closer, and I could feel the hardening contour of his body against the soft flesh of my hip. “And shouldn’t I get to say who I burn for every minute of the day? Who I dream about touching even when we’re thousands of miles apart?
You’re an echo on my soul, Jordi.” My eyes fluttered shut the lower his voice dropped. “Every time I think of you I want to touch you, I want to kiss you, I want to love only you.”

My words were lost when his hands touched my body. His large hand possessively cupped my full breast as he nibbled at the nape of my neck.

“I love the way you fill my hand,” he whispered near my ear as his thumb lightly brushed across the hardening nipple. I couldn’t help but gasp. “You’re mythical, like a goddess.”

I fought the urge to shake my head. “Jace,” was all I could say.

He tore down the sheet, revealing my body to him. Easily he shifted over me and fit himself against me, between my thighs, as his eyes locked with mine. “Every time you surround me,” he said softly, toying with my lips in a series of subtle kisses, “is like falling into heaven.”

I melted against him. I shivered against the night air, trying not to f
eel conscious of every bulge that was pressed against him. His hand disappeared between my legs, his fingers dancing across my slippery flesh until I writhed beneath him in exquisite longing to be filled, to be completed. He watched my face as I lost myself to the sensations. When that first wave of pleasure hit, he shoved himself inside of me, hard and true.

“You’re
perfect,” he said into my mouth, before a deep, hard kiss that proved his passionate words were true. My fingernails dug into his strong hips as I encouraged him to show how raw his desire was for me. He lost himself in every thrust, and I felt every ghost between us slip away the more he branded me for his own. I was thrashing under him by the time he drove in that last time, empting himself inside of me, heart and soul.

As he curled up beside me an
d drifted to sleep, I chastised myself for doubt him. He wasn’t like all men. He couldn’t be.

When I reached for my phone to set the alarm, I saw a text I had missed while dozing. It was from Shelby
.

“Thank you so much for recommending me for this photo shoot. I really feel it’s going to happen for me and Jace now and I’ll have you to thank for my happily ever after. You’re my guardian angel, Jay! Love you!”

My stomach tied back up in a knot and all the scenarios I ran in my head while they were together made an unwanted encore. I couldn’t even sleep as I wrapped myself around Jace’s sleeping form.

All I could do was hold on for dear life
.

He was gone by the time I got up the next morning.
Rather than watch TV at the hotel room, I headed down to the venue early. I decided to walk, which I regretted about halfway there, when I ran across a newsstand featuring all that week’s news that was fit – or titillating – to print. From one of the gossip mags a big headline screamed: “FIERCE DIVA AIRBRUSHED TO SELL TICKETS?”

Despite my better judgmen
t, I stopped to read the piece.


Are some markets tilting the odds more into Fierce finalist Jordi Hemphill’s favor, by editing her to be thinner? That is what some size-positive groups are saying. New promotional photos in bigger cities like New York and Chicago show the plus-size singer morphed into a noticeably thinner version of herself, in some markets almost comically so
.”

I glanced at the photos, which showed me squeezed into a tiny, supporting talent box and morphed smaller just to fit. The piece was right, in markets where fashion reigned supreme, I was very noticeably smaller. I sighed, reached into my purse and grabbed some money to pay for the magazine. Ten minutes later I was back at the hotel, knocking on Vanni’s door.

He was disheveled when he answered, wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms. I had to grin to myself, reminded that we were living the rock star life now. There were no early risers in our bunch. “Hey,” he said as he wiped the sleep from his eyes with one hand. “What’s up?”

I held up the magazine. He took it, glanced over it,
and then moved from the door to invite me inside. “Did you know about this?” I asked him as I watched him close the door behind me.

“We hire out concert PR, Jordi. This was likely a decision made independent from the label. Graham would never sign off on this.”

I hadn’t thought so, but who knew for sure? His job was to sell tickets. Obviously someone thought this was the right way. With a sigh I wilted into one of the sofas in his suite. “I guess you’re right.”

He sat across from me. “You want me to call Graham? I’m sure we can change it.”

I shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“It does if it bothers you,” he said softly. “You get a say in things, Jordi. If this bothers you, raise your voice. Make a fuss. People will listen.”

I snorted as I thought about all the people I had known throughout my life, who never missed an opportunity to let me know how badly I missed the mark by being overweight. They weren’t listening. They never did. And I suspected they never would.

This was just the world we lived in.

“I’m not the one selling tickets to your tour anyway,” I added, thinking of all those screaming girls in the front row, who no doubt paid a pretty penny to sit there. They tolerated me, but they came for Jace and Vanni.

“It’s
our
tour,” he corrected as he swung around to join me on the couch, taking my hand in his. “And you have more draw than you think.” I couldn’t even look up at him, so he wrapped his arms around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. “What’s really going on, Jordi?”

I took a deep breath. “Shelby is going to be modeling with Jace for that new clothing line,” I admitted softly. “
They didn’t have my size, so I couldn’t do it. Then I see this,” I referenced to the magazine, “and it just reminds me how far I still have to go to fit in.”

Vanni was incredulous. “How can you say that, Jordi? You’re a vitally important part of our group. If you stand apart in any way it’s because you’re one of the b
reakout stars of
Fierce
. People love you.”


Who do you think they’re going to vote for, Jordi? And who are they going to laugh at
?” Eddie’s ghost whispered in my ear in some sadistic loop recording. “
You’re not going to win this competition
,” he had said, and had ultimately been right. “
But look at the bright side. You’re getting paid to be on the show as a performer for however many weeks you last. Maybe you’ll even get to tour. It’s not the gold star you want but it’s better than cleaning out fry traps at the Burger Palace
.”

I scooted out of Vanni’s reach and stood to pace.
“Yeah, but even in a cast of outcasts I felt like an outcast. What’s wrong with me, I can change. I’m not gay or disabled or another color or older… I’m just fat. I feel like a fraud sometimes because I just can’t get it together.”

Vanni pursed his lips as he stared at me. Finally he ambled to his feet and joined me where I stood, taking my hands into his. “
You’re not fat. You’re a woman, with a choice. Whether you lose weight or whether you don’t, that has nothing to do with being authentic. And that’s what you are, Jordi. You’re real. And you’re powerful.” I looked away, so he went on. “It seems to me that you’ve been listening to the wrong voices for a long, long time, voices that tell you are powerless. Voices that say that you won’t be good enough unless you change. And you know what? You won’t be. For some people you’ll never be good enough no matter what you do or what you change. Because the problem isn’t with you, Jordi. They’re looking at you through their own skewed perception. Why do they have to count?”

A tear dangled just at the corner of my eye. “What if they’re right?”

“They’re only right if you agree. Remember?”

I nodded. “Don’t agree,” I repeated dutifully.

He pulled me into a hug, planting a kiss on the top of my head. “I think that you should fight fire with water. Find another clothing store and offer to advertise for them.”

I chuckled and shook my head. I couldn’t imagine modeling for an ad campaign. How was I supposed to sell clothes to anyone else when I barely felt comfortable in my own skin? I didn’t say as much to Vanni.
I knew he’d never understand. He was far too perfect to get what life was like for the rest of us.

He pulled away. “We can talk about it over breakfast. Or lunch,” he added with a grin as he trotted off to the adjoining bedroom to change.

That afternoon Vanni served as a blissful distraction. He gave me a tour of the city to keep me from being alone with my chatterbox, worrying how things were going with Shelby and Jace.

We were all at rehearsal when they finally found us
that afternoon. I was sitting next to Vanni as he played around on the piano, fussing with a melody. He had proclaimed that he was going to write my next big single, a sure hit, he kidded. He closed his eyes and let his fingers find the keys, humming sometimes to himself as he tried to compose something concrete. Just as the tune started coming together, Jace and Shelby returned. She was beside herself, overladen with bags of clothes that she would be wearing for the tour to promote T&L. “I had the best day. Help me take these to my dressing room and I’ll tell you!”

Despite every iota of common sense was screaming at me to decline, I hooked my arm into several of her bags and followed dutifully behind. “So the photo shoot went well?”

“It was great!” she exclaimed with a big smile. “I saw some of the proofs. They look amazing. They didn’t even have to airbrush my stupid thighs or anything,” she added with a giggle, reminding me of her ongoing battle with the dimples of cellulite that stood between her and perfection. “And we looked so perfect together. The way he looked at me, Jordi, oh my God. I melted!”

I said nothing. I knew well that look and its effect on the heterosexual female body. “Sounds like fun.”

“It was,” she affirmed. “You know Jace. He always makes everything fun.” She shoved the door open on her dressing room and deposited her bags on the dressing table next to a big bouquet of pink and white flowers. “What is this?” she squealed as she reached for the card. “Oh my God.”

My stomach fell. “Who’s it from?”

She spun to me with the card clasped tightly to her heart. “It’s Jace.” There were tears in her eyes as she handed me the card. “Look.”

I took the card and read it silently. “Smile!” it read. “You’re beautiful. J.”

I sighed as I handed it back to her. “Wow,” was all I could say.

“Right?” she responded, giddy with excitement. She flung her arms around my neck. “Jordi, you are a genius. Recommending this for me, I’ll never forget it.”

I hugged her back. “Glad to help out,” I muttered.

“When Eddie joins the tour, we’ll have to double date!” she suggested at once before turning to her plethora of goodies.
“Oh, I got you something,” she said as she handed me a small bag. “For everything you’ve done for me. I don’t think I’ve had a better friend than you, Jordi.”

Wordlessly I reached into the bag and withdrew a colorful scarf and matching hat, likely the only thing at T&L that would fit
someone like me.

BOOK: Unstoppable (Fierce)
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