Adora Bell - One Night in Paris

Jack narrowed his eyes, and Sara thought she caught a glimpse of a tear. She took his hand and squeezed it. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, letting Jack gather his thoughts.

"Sara…I'm not the guy you seem to think I am. I never sold drugs, never; I don't even touch the stuff myself. But that doesn't mean I'm a good person. I've done plenty of shitty things in my time, things I don't even like to think about. Those pictures…that wasn't a great time in my life. I was trying to help someone I loved, but I screwed it up. I let them down. And I'm not going to drag all that out into the open for the sake of my career, I'm just not. Anyway, if they knew the truth…nobody would look at me the same way again. It all ends the same, Sara. I'm done."

"Fine. Give up then."

"I'm not giving up. It's for the best."

"And what are you going to do now, huh? Go rot in your mansion somewhere, become a recluse? Have plastic surgery and get a job in Safeway?"

"Man, I never was much good as a check out chick. I don't know, ok. I'll figure something out. Come on, it's freezing. Lets get you back to the hotel, we'll order some room service, then you can yell at me some more."

"I'm not hungry."

"Sara…I'm sorry ok? Jesus, what do you want me to say?"

"Your band are out there right now, playing the songs you wrote, with that asshole Michael singing your words. All because you're scared of…what exactly? A few stupid journalists?"

"I…I'm not scared, ok, it's just…once they start digging, once they know they're on to something, they won't let it go. If I argue, they're going to keep asking questions, and eventually my whole goddamn life will be down there in black and white. I've worked too damn hard to keep my past private. Some things are best forgotten."

"Some things, or some people?"

Jack shook his head.

"You're not going to let this go, are you? Dammit Sara."

They had reached the main street, and as the traffic whizzed past, Jack waved hopefully at passing taxis. Eventually, a battered black car with a cracked sign pulled up, and they slid into the back seat. Jack crossed his arms over his chest and stared out of the window as they travelled back towards the hotel. Then he felt a soft touch on his shoulder, and Sara wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered in his ear, "I'm trying to understand, I am. It's just hard when I don't know the whole story. But you're Jack fucking Carter. You can't give up on your life like that, you just can't."

He squeezed her tight, breathing in the scent of her, feeling her soft hair against his cheek.

"Driver?" he said suddenly, eliciting a Gallic grunt from the front seat."Not the hotel. The Diamond Club. Fast, please."

"Oui Monsieur." The driver sounded almost gleeful as he pulled an illegal U turn and raced off into the night.

Michael stepped back from the microphone and raised his hands above his head. The crowd hollered, and he felt his heart leap in his chest. This was the best night of his life. At last, he was the front man, the centre of everyone's attention. All those hours spent working on his vocals had paid off. The fans were loving it. Soon they would forget all about Jack. Once this scandal blew over, the press would tell the dramatic tale of how Compass rose from the ashes, with Michael at the helm, to start a new and even brighter era. Then maybe, in a year or so, it would be time to go solo… He was so busy fantasizing, that at first Michael didn't notice the stirring at the back of the club. Ripples spread through the crowd, whispers and gasps turning to screams of excitement that travelled towards the stage. Squinting through the bright lights, Michael could see the audience part as someone shouldered their way through.

“No fucking way,” he growled under his breath. Assisted by a sea of hands, Jack Carter hauled himself up on to the stage and grabbed a microphone from the stand. A sudden hush fell over the auditorium.

“Um, hi. Sorry I'm late.” Laughter from the crowd.

“I wasn't going to come here tonight. I thought, after the allegations that have been printed about me, that Compass would be better off without me. Luckily, someone convinced me otherwise. I don't have time to tell you the whole story tonight…I think most of you would prefer to hear some music. But what I can tell you, is that I have never in my life sold drugs. I've never even taken drugs, if you want to know the truth. I know you have no reason to believe me…but I hope that you can trust me on this one. And whatever you might think of me, I hope you can still enjoy our music. Thank you.”

For a moment, everything was still. Then the applause started, just a few people at first, but the others joined in until the clapping of hands thundered around the room. Micheal’s face was white with rage as a sound man rushed unto the stage to hook up Jack's microphone.

“Nice one, douche bag,” he hissed, “Couldn't bear to be out of the spotlight for a second? Oh, and if you're going to do a heartwarming speech, maybe save it for a crowd that actually speaks English? These morons don't even know what they're clapping for.”

“I'm sure someone will translate for them,” Jack said with a shrug. Someone handed him his guitar, and he eased the strap onto his shoulder. He had felt naked without it.

“Shouldn't you be taking care of your little piece of ass? We can manage fine without you.” Michael spat at Jack, casting a desultory glance at where Sara waited at the side of the stage.

“Shut the fuck up Michael,” Andy, the drummer, suddenly butted in. “Let's just get the next song going, ok?” The band all turned to their instruments. Andy didn't normally say much, but when he did, they listened. As they launched into What Comes Next, Jack felt a tiny glimmer of hope. The crowd sang alongside him, just as they always did. Perhaps things hadn't changed all that much.

Watching Jack hold the crowd in the palm of his hand, Sara was glowing. She knew if he just faced them, the public would see through all the lies in the papers. People weren't stupid, they knew sincerity when they saw it. Jack seemed like a different person to the broken down man she had wrapped her arms around only a couple of hours earlier. Every moment he spent performing seemed to breathe new life into him. She couldn't wait to harness some of that new energy when they got back to the hotel room. Sara was thinking fondly of that giant shower, with plenty of room for two, when she realized that Jack was walking towards her side of the stage.

“Ladies and gentleman, I'd like to dedicate this song to someone very special. Without her I quite literally wouldn't be here today. “ Jack knelt down and extended his hand towards Sara. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, but Jack just grinned and grabbed hold of her. Someone behind her took the rather worrying initiative to lift her legs, and before she knew it, Sara was being dragged onto the stage.

“Please give a big hand for the very beautiful Sara Lansbury!” Jack raised her hand in the air, and the crowd applauded enthusiastically. The rest of the band clapped as well, with the exception of Michael, whose face seemed to be frozen in a permanent scowl. Sara stood dead still, frozen like a deer in the headlights, as Jack sang to her in front of all those people. She wanted to pinch herself. It was like being in the middle of her silliest adolescent fantasy, except the man in front of her was very real. He had flaws, a bruised heart, and a lot of explaining to do.

After the show, the band had a few scheduled meet and greets with fans and TV people. Sara sank into a comfortable chair in the dressing room. Exhaustion was finally getting the better of her. Her eyes were just starting to close when there was a knock at the door.