The evening shadows slowly slid across the furniture, washing away the colors of the day, the precise outlines of objects, and even the heat, which was becoming increasingly oppressive.
Three days had passed since Belinda had agreed to work with the band. And to say "work" wasn't exactly an understatement.
Everyone was very precise in their tasks, especially Bill, who was very meticulous during rehearsals. If something distracted him or didn't convince him, he'd stop, shouting, "Stop, stop!" and then start again.
The girls now felt part of a large family, made up of the long and crowded caravan that followed the band: makeup artists, set designers, props technicians, cooks, and security personnel. They had somewhat lost the awe of the first day, and the fact that Belinda was working with them had made the atmosphere more relaxed and complicit.
The only things that hadn't changed were the stinging banter between Tom and Belinda, who seized every opportunity to tease each other or play terrible pranks on others. When they decided to team up and target someone, they were unbeatable. That same morning, they had thrown a water bomb at André, surprising him so much that he stood there, soaking wet, unable to react. Naturally, it was impossible to trace the perpetrator, as the two had perfect alibis.
Belinda had spent the entire afternoon rehearsing with the choreographer to move more fluidly in the costume, since André had insisted that each performance be different from the previous one.
All of this worried her greatly, because planning and perfect entrances had replaced the initial spontaneity.
Bill and the others knew the timing, but they couldn't always get the moves together in rehearsals. In fact, a few hours earlier, as she entered behind Klaus, he had gotten distracted and tapped her skirt with a drumstick, missing the chord and causing her to stumble.
They tried again, but at that point it was Bill who was distracted because he was waiting for her to enter before continuing to sing: in short, the idea was turning into a failure!
Mark, André's young assistant who followed them throughout the tour as a handyman, with an encouraging smile, asked to try again, but Belinda was all sore because the costume, while very striking, was too heavy to wear all day.
Despite everything, Belinda stood up, ready to try again; she saw the tension on the boys' faces and didn't know how to ease it.
When it came time to enter, she realized it would be best to improvise: she had to make sure the others didn't follow her, didn't notice her, but instead found her on stage as if by magic, without interrupting what they were doing, just like the first time.
She arrived in front of Bill from a more angular position than where he was waiting for her, adapting to his timing and giving the right emphasis to both her entrance and exit. At the end of the rehearsal, tired but satisfied, they all shook hands.
"Good!" Mark exclaimed. "I think you can handle this better. Bel, observe the stage and try to figure out when to enter."
"Bill doesn't always move the same way, and if I program his entrance, I force it to be unnatural," she observed.
"I think you see the stage better than we do, so feel free to enter whenever you want... and let's hope for the best."
The next evening it would be Monaco's turn and he really hoped he wouldn't make a mistake.
Getting up, she headed to the dressing room, eager to shed the encumbrance and take a nice shower. Naomi approached her attentively, asking if she needed help. She shook her head.
"I can do it, don't worry! Instead, ask Tom if he wants to put some ointment on that cut he got earlier when he tried to catch me so I wouldn't fall, okay?"
At that request, her sister immediately flew off to find the boy, leaving her alone.
Belinda sat down on the chair, took off her helmet, and rested her legs on another chair, without removing her boots. She unhooked the top of her shrug, leaving her in just her bodice.
Ah, finally some fresh air!
She looked at her slightly red shoulder and thought that perhaps she should use talcum powder before going on stage to prevent painful blisters from forming.
She was about to remove a boot when there was a knock on the door.
Hellen peeked in and asked to come in. It was Klaus's girlfriend, blonde, tall, and slim, with a sunny smile and an innate charm. She was a nurse and, taking advantage of a vacation, had joined them two days earlier.
"Come on!" she invited, putting her leg down.
"I'll just take you away for a moment!" the girl apologized. "I can't find the arnica cream that Klaus uses on his hands for massages, and I was wondering if it had gotten among your things."
Belinda looked around. "I really don't know... but go ahead and look!"
After a quick search, they discovered that unfortunately she wasn't there, and, shrugging, Hellen went to look elsewhere.
As she walked away, it occurred to Belinda that she needed help undoing the clasp in the back and taking off her bodice. Grumbling at her distraction, he quickly got up to call her back and, hopping on one boot, reached the door. He swung it open and found Bill walking down the hall with an annoyed expression.
She looked at him uncertainly, but he ignored her and continued on, walking stiffly.
"Bill..." he began.
"What is it?" he growled, pausing nervously.
"Nothing, it doesn't matter. I'm so sorry," he muttered and retreated into the small room, closing the door behind him.
Although his brusque attitude had hurt her, Belinda realized it had been a very tiring and stressful day for everyone, so she shook off the feeling and bent down to remove her other boot. The door opened behind her, making her heart leap into her throat.
She sat up abruptly. "Hey, knock, right?"
Bill glared at her, but after a moment he sighed and gave a tight smile. "Sorry, Bel, you had nothing to do with it, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."
"I know, rehearsals were really long..." he murmured, shrugging.
"Maybe I expect too much from others, but I like to be prepared when I go on stage. People pay a ticket to see us, and I want the show we put on to live up to their expectations... It's not about you, on the contrary. You're really good, you can put on a performance without any setlist. Thank you for your commitment and patience..." Bill's tone softened. "Tell me, did you need anything?"
"I'm embarrassed to ask you this, but I have to unhook my bodice and I was so tired I forgot to ask Naomi or Hellen for help." She turned her back to show him the clasp in the back. "Want to help me?"
With a grimace, he approached her and searched for the clasp hidden under a fold of metal. It clicked with a sharp click, and the bustier came loose.
Belinda held it in place with her hands to keep it from slipping down.
"Thanks." She sighed, feeling instantly freer.
Bill noticed the red marks on her bare shoulder. "What did you do there?"
"Oh, it's the seams in the swimsuit that are irritating my skin. Maybe it's the heat, I don't know, but tomorrow I'll wear a cotton top underneath to avoid chafing."
"Yes, good idea." He nodded absently and headed for the door.
Belinda slipped on a cotton T-shirt and placed the bustier on the counter, making a metallic sound.
"By the way, I wanted to tell you..." Bill began, turning back to her.
"Yes?"
He was adjusting the shirt on his hip, but he caught her gaze lingering on the still-exposed skin. She lowered her head and saw her tattoo exposed, in plain sight.
The boy came back and leaned over to get a better look, holding up the hem of his shirt and touching her skin.
Belinda jumped at the contact and stepped back, trying to pull the garment down to cover the design.
He blocked her hand. "Wait, let me see!"
"Go away, Bill, it's none of your business!" she hissed through her teeth, gripping the fabric tighter.
The boy, enthralled by the design, ran a finger over the treble clef. "It's really beautiful. I've never seen it before, why are you hiding it?"
"I didn't hide it!" he protested, walking away. "It's my thing, what are you bothering about?"
"Tattoos are usually meant to be shown off. Mine, in fact, are on full display... except for the one I have—"
"I don't want to know!" she interrupted, covering her ears.
"Don't tell me you're shy too!" she scoffed, laughing.
"I'm not shy, but reserved. Something you lack!" she defended herself. "And besides, since when are we so close that we show each other our tattoos?"
Bill became serious again. "I thought we'd gotten past that."
"When?"
"After the chat on the terrace."
Belinda snorted, shaking her head.
"Bill, stop it, I can't understand you! After that chat, it seemed like our relationship was going to change, but instead... I can't understand what you want from me!"
He didn't answer, but continued to stare at her intently.
"I don't kiss you on stage, and you get offended! Then I'm about to kiss you, and you walk away! Now, you find out I have a tattoo and you make a fuss... Well, be clear: what do you expect from me?
"To be yourself when we're together," he replied slowly.
"Myself?" She burst into a sarcastic laugh. "I'm a very rational, thoughtful person, but when it comes to my feelings, I act on instinct or just from the heart. I'm afraid of my own reactions sometimes, and you've seen it too!"
"Maybe that's exactly what I expect to see, don't you think?"
"Oh, yeah? Weren't my tantrums enough for you? Forget me, I need to think before I speak or act. I have to try to be a normal person!" she sighed bitterly.
"You can never be normal, whatever that means. You're unique, Bel! And I may be a masochist, but I love your tantrums!"
"Really?" she murmured, a twinkle in her eye. "But think about it, who would have thought?"
She took off her other boot and tossed it in a corner.
So he wanted to see her act without the control of rationality? She would oblige. She moved toward him in a slow, sinuous motion, smiling mischievously. She narrowed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his.
"I have a fantastic tattoo, Bill, do you want me to show it to you?" she asked in a soothing voice close to his lips.
In response, he burst out laughing, hugging her and lowering his head.
"You're a real surprise, I didn't think you were so enchanting. I'll have to be careful what I wish for, because you might just give me what I want!" He patted her ass and pushed her away.
"I have to refuse, but I'll tell you a secret: if you'd kept your boots on and looked me straight in the eye, I really don't think I could have said no. I really appreciated the offer... How about we try again next time?"
He barely had time to leave and close the door behind him when a boot slammed into it.
"You're such an asshole!" Belinda shouted after him and sank into a chair.
He turned to the mirror and burst out laughing; this time Bill was right; she'd tried to make fun of him, but she'd just looked like a caricature of a cartoon vamp.
Damn his height! She was losing every challenge to that obnoxious artist. She had to come up with a plan to make him capitulate and beat him at his own game. Except she couldn't walk around in those stratospheric heels or risk falling and making another fool of herself.
She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, intrigued by the new developments, and promised herself that next time she'd win.
Reassured, she grabbed a cotton pad and began to clean her face.