lined the park. Sara could smell earth and wet leaves, and feel the roughness of the bark through her clothes. Her cold fingers fumbled with the buttons of his fly, desperate to free him, as she rubbed his bulge with the palm of her hand. She could hear Jack panting in her ear, then his mouth was on hers, his hands pulling at her clothes. At last he freed her breasts and buried his head between them, inhaling her warm, feminine scent as his fingers dived back between her legs. Sara's eyes flew open as he entered her in one hard thrust, gripping her hips, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself inside her. They fucked like animals, rough and frenzied, Sara biting her lip to stop herself from crying out into the cold night air. She felt Jack's grip on her tighten, and he began to moan into her ear, “Oh god, oh god, Sara-' her name left his mouth in a strangled cry as he came in heart-stopping spasms. At the sound of his voice Sara felt something inside her shatter, and she exploded around him, every inch of her vibrating with the force of her orgasm.
Jack lowered her gently to the ground as she pulled her clothes to cover herself. Buttoning up his own pants, he kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
'That was…quite something.' Jack grinned, and Sara couldn't help but smile back.
'Certainly was.'
Jack put his arm around Sara's shoulders and she snuggled into his warmth. Together, they made their way down the pathway, heading towards the Arc de Triomphe.
'Pretty spectacular, isn't it?' Sara said softly.
'Not as spectacular as you.'
Sara responded with a playful slap on the arm. 'Quit joking around Carter. It's been a long day.'
'Who said I was joking?'
Sara looked up at him. He looked sincere, and handsome as ever. But the dark rings beneath his eyes worried her. And was she imagining it, or did his face look thinner?
'You're meant to be on stage right now, you know. People paid a lot of money for those tickets. If it was me, I'd be mad as hell.'
'They're not just there for me, you know.'
'Jack, no disrespect to the rest of the guys, but it's not Compass without you.'
' Pfft. Who's going to want to see me now, huh? You've seen the pictures. You know what they're saying. I'm finished, Sara, that's all there is to it.' A note of anger had crept into his voice.
'Jack…' Sara trailed off, unsure how to convince him otherwise.
'See? Nothing to say, is there?'
'Yes there is, if you would just give me a minute! Look, people on my own street don't even recognize me. I'm not going to pretend I know what it's like being you, and having my life laid out on the front pages every day. But I know that people love you. They love your music, they love the band…that doesn't just go away overnight, no matter what the newspapers might write. And…I haven't known you very long. But I know enough about you that I know you would never have done anything to hurt anyone. So whatever's going on here, they've got their facts wrong. I guess I just don't understand why you're hiding away and taking it like this. Why don't you fight back? Stand up for yourself? Whatever the truth is…it can't be any worse than what they're saying. Right?'
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.
