novelxo Lick: Chapter 4
I slept on the short flight to LA, curled up in a super comfortable chair in a corner of the private jet. It was a level of luxury above anything I’d ever imagined. If you had to turn your life upside down you might as well enjoy the opulence while you were at it. Sam had offered me champagne and I’d politely declined. The idea of alcohol still turned me inside out. It was entirely possible I’d never drink again.
My career path had been temporarily shot to hell, but never mind, I had a new plan. Get divorced. It was breathtakingly simple. I loved it. I was back in control of my own destiny. One day, when I got married, if I got married, it would not be to a stranger in Vegas. It would not be a terrible mistake.
When I woke up we were landing. Another sleek sedan stood waiting. I’d never been to LA. It looked every bit as wide awake as Vegas, though less glam. Plenty of people were still out and about despite the hour of night.
I had to brave turning on my phone sometime. Lauren would be worried. I pushed the little black button and the screen flashed bright lights at me, coming to life. A hundred and fifty-eight text messages and ninety-seven missed calls. I blinked stupidly at the screen but the number didn’t change. Holy hell. Apparently everyone I knew had heard the news along with quite a few people I did not.
My phone pinged.
Lauren: You okay? Where r u???
Me: LA. Going to him ’til things calm down. You alright?
Lauren: I’m fine. LA? Living the dream.
Me: Private jet was amazing. Though his fans are crazy.
Lauren: Your brother is crazy.
Me: Sorry about that.
Lauren: I can handle him. Whatever happens, do not break up the band!!!
Me: Got it.
Lauren: But break his heart. He wrote San Pedro after what’s-her-face cheated on him. That album was BRILLIANT!
Me: Promise to leave him a broken quivering mess.
Lauren: That’s the spirit.
Me: xx
*
It was after three in the morning by the time we reached the massive 1920s-era Spanish-style mansion in Laurel Canyon. It was lovely. Though Dad would not have been impressed—he preferred clean, contemporary lines with minimal fuss. Four-bedroom, two-bathroom houses for Portland’s well-to-do. But I don’t know, there was something beautiful and romantic about such extravagance. The decorative black wrought iron against the bare white walls.
A gaggle of girls and the obligatory pack of press milled about outside. News of our marriage had apparently stirred things up. Or maybe they always camped here. Ornate iron gates swung slowly open at our approach. Palm trees lined the long, winding driveway, large fronds waving in the wind as we drove by. The place looked like something out of a movie. Stage Dive were big business, I knew that much. Their last two albums had spawned numerous hit songs. Lauren had driven all over the countryside last summer, attending three of their shows in the space of a week. All of them had been in stadiums.
Still, that was a damn big house.
Nerves wound me tight. I wore the same jeans and blue top I’d had on all day. Dressing for the occasion wasn’t an option. The best I could do was finger-brush my hair and spray on some perfume I had in my handbag. I might be lacking in glamour but at least I’d smell alright.
Every light in the house blazed bright and rock music boomed out into the warm night air. The big double doors stood open and people spilled out of the house and onto the steps. It seemed the party to end all others was taking place.
Sam opened the car door for me and I hesitantly climbed out.
“I’ll walk you in, Ms Thomas.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I didn’t move. After a moment Sam got the message. He forged ahead and I followed. A couple of girls were making out just inside the door, mouths all over each other. They were both slender and beyond gorgeous, dressed in tiny, sparkly dresses that barely hit their thighs. More people milled about drinking and dancing. A chandelier hung overhead and a grand staircase wound around an interior wall. The place was a Hollywood palace.
Thankfully, no one seemed to notice me. I could gawk to my heart’s content.
Sam stopped to talk to a young man slouched against a wall, a bottle of beer to his lips. Long, blond hair stuck out every which way and his nose was pierced with a silver ring. Lots of tattoos. In ripped black jeans and a faded T-shirt he had the same uber-cool air as David. Maybe rock stars brought their clothes artfully aged. People with money were a pack apart.
The man gave me an obvious looking-over. I steadfastly resisted the urge to shrink back. Not happening. When he met my eyes his gaze seemed curious but not unfriendly. The tension inside me eased.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.” I braved a smile.
“It’s all good,” he said to Sam. Then he tipped his chin at me. “Come on. He’s out this way. I’m Mal.”
“Hi,” I said again stupidly. “I’m Ev.”
“Are you alright, Ms Thomas?” asked Sam in a low voice.
“Yes, Sam. Thank you very much.”
He gave me a polite nod and headed back the way we’d come. His broad shoulders and bald head soon disappeared among the crowd. Running after him and asking to be taken home wouldn’t help, but my feet itched to do so. No, enough with the pity party. Time to pull up my big girl panties and get on with things.
Hundreds of people had been packed into the place. The only thing in my experience that came close was my senior prom and it paled significantly. None of the dresses here tonight compared. I could almost smell the money. Lauren was the dedicated celeb-watcher but even I recognized a few of the faces. One of last year’s Oscar winners and a lingerie model I’d seen on billboards back home. A teen pop queen who shouldn’t have been swilling from a bottle of vodka, let alone sitting on the lap of a silver-haired member of … damn, what was that band’s name?
Anyway.
I shut my mouth before someone noticed I had stars in my eyes. Lauren would have loved all this. It was amazing.
When a woman who most closely resembled a half dressed Amazonian goddess side-swiped me, Mal stopped and frowned after her. “Some people, no manners. Come on.”
The sluggish beat of the music moved through me, reawakening the dregs of my headache and putting a taint on the glitter. We weaved our way through a big room filled with plush velvet lounges and the people draped over them. Next came a space cluttered with guitars, amps and other rock ’n’ roll paraphernalia. Inside the house the air was smoky and humid, despite all the open windows and doors. My top clung beneath my arms. We moved outside onto the balcony where a light breeze was blowing. I raised my face to it gratefully.
And there he was, leaning against a decorative iron railing. The strong lines of his face were in profile. Holy shit, how could I have forgotten? There was no explaining the full effect of David in real life. He fit in with the beautiful people just fine. He was one of them. I, on the other hand, belonged in the kitchen with the waitstaff.
My husband was busy talking to the leggy, enhanced-breasted brunette beside him. Perhaps he was a tit man and that’s how we’d wound up wed. It was as good a guess as any. Dressed in only a teeny white bikini, the girl clung to him like she’d been surgically attached. Her hair was artfully messed in a way that suggested a minimum of two hours at a top-notch salon. She was beautiful and I hated her just a little. A trickle of sweat ran down my spine.
“Hey, Dave,” Mal called out. “Company.”
David turned, then saw me and frowned. In this light his eyes looked dark and distinctly unhappy. “Ev.”
“Hi.”
Mal started to laugh. “That’s about the only word I’ve been able to get out of her. Seriously, man, does your wife even speak?”
“She speaks.” His tone of voice made it obvious he wished I wouldn’t, ever again. Or at least, not within his hearing.
I didn’t know what to say. Generally, I wasn’t after universal love and acceptance. Open hostility, however, was still kind of new to me.
The brunette tittered and rubbed her bountiful boobs against David’s arm as if she was marking him. Sadly for her, he didn’t seem to notice. She gave me a foul look, red mouth puckered. Charming. Though the fact that she saw me as competition was a huge boost to my ego. I stood taller and looked my husband in the eye.
Big mistake.
David’s dark hair had been tied back in a little ponytail with strands falling around his face. What should have reeked of scummy drug dealer worked on him. Of course it did. He could probably make a dirty back alleyway seem like the honeymoon suite. A gray T-shirt molded to his thick shoulders and faded blue jeans covered his long legs. His black army-style boots were crossed at the ankles, easy as you please, because he belonged here. I didn’t.
“You mind finding her a room?” David asked his friend.
Mal snorted. “Do I look like your fucking butler? You’ll show your own wife to a room. Don’t be an asshole.”
“She’s not my wife,” David growled.
“Every news channel in the country would disagree with you there.” Mal ruffled my hair with a big hand, making me feel all of eight years old. “Check you later, child bride. Nice to meet you.”
“Child bride?” I asked, feeling clueless.
Mal stopped and grinned. “You haven’t heard what they’re saying?”
I shook my head.
“Probably for the best.” With a last laugh he wandered off.
David disentangled himself from the brunette. Her plump lips pursed in displeasure but he wasn’t looking. “Come on.”
He put his hand out to usher me on and there, spread across the length of his forearm, was his tattoo.
Evelyn
I froze. Holy shit. The man sure had chosen a conspicuous place to put my name. I didn’t know how I felt about that.
“What?” His brows drew down and his forehead wrinkled. “Ah, yeah. Come on.”
“Hurry back, David,” cooed Bikini Girl, primping her hair. I had nothing against bikinis. I owned several despite my mom believing I was too big boned for such things. (I’d never actually worn them but that was beside the point.) No, what I minded were the sneers and snarly looks Bikini Girl shot me when she thought David wasn’t looking.
Little did she know he didn’t care.
With a hand to the small of my back he ushered me through the party toward the stairs. People called out and women preened but he never slowed. I got the distinct feeling he was embarrassed to be seen with me. Being with David, I sure caught some scrutiny. Any money, I didn’t fit the bill of a rock star’s wife. People stopped and stared. Someone called out, asking if he could introduce us. No comment from my husband as he hurried me through the crowd.
Hallways spread out in both directions up on the second floor. We went left, down to the end. He threw open a door and there my bag sat, waiting on a big king-size bed. Everything in the sumptuous room had been done in white: the bed, walls, and carpets. An antique white love seat sat in the corner. It was beautiful, pristine. Nothing like my small, cramped room back at the apartment I shared with Lauren, where between the double bed and my desk, you had just enough room to get the cupboard door open, no more. This place went on and on, a sea of perfection.
“I’d better not touch anything,” I mumbled, hands tucked into my back pockets.
“What?”
“It’s lovely.”
David looked around the room with nil interest. “Yeah.”
I wandered over to the windows. A luxurious pool sat below, well lit and surrounded by palm trees and perfect gardens. Two people were in the water, making out. The woman’s head fell back and her breasts bobbed on the surface. Oh, no, my mistake. They were having sex. I could feel the heat creep up my neck. I didn’t think I was a prude, but still. I turned away.
“Listen, some people are going to come to talk to you about the divorce papers. They’ll be here at ten,” he said, hovering in the doorway. His fingers tapped out a beat on the doorframe. He kept casting longing looks down the hall, clearly impatient to be gone.
“Some people?”
“My lawyer and my manager,” he told his feet. “They’re rushing things, so … it’ll all be, ah, dealt with as fast as it can.”
“Alright.”
David sucked in his cheeks and nodded. He had killer cheekbones. I’d seen men in fashion magazines that couldn’t have compared. But pretty or not, the frown never lifted. Not while I was around. It would have been nice to see him smile, just once.
“You need anything?” he asked.
“No. Thank you for all this. For flying me down here and letting me stay. It’s very kind of you.”
“No worries.” He took a step back and started closing the door after him. “Night.”
“David, shouldn’t we talk or something? About last night?”
He paused, half hidden behind the door. “Seriously, Ev. Why fucking bother?”
And he was gone.
Again.
No door slam this time. I counted that as a step forward in our relationship. Being surprised was stupid. But disappointment held me still, staring around the room, seeing nothing. It wasn’t that I suddenly wanted him to fall at my feet. But antipathy sucked.
Eventually I wandered back over to the window. The lovers were gone, the pool now empty. Another couple stumbled along the lit garden path, beneath the huge swaying palm trees. They headed toward what had to be the pool house. The man was David and Bikini Girl hung off him, swishing her long hair and swaying her hips, working it to the nth degree. They looked good together. They fit. David reached out and tugged on the tie of her bikini top, undoing the neat bow and baring her from the waist up. Bikini Girl laughed soundlessly, not bothering to cover herself.
I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the rock in my throat. Jealousy felt every bit as bad as antipathy. And I had no damn right to be jealous.
At the door to the pool house David paused and looked back over his shoulder. His eyes met mine. Oh, shit. I ducked behind the curtain and idiotically held my breath. Caught spying—the shame of it. When I checked a moment later they were gone. Light peeked out from the sides of the curtains in the pool house. I should have brazened it out. I wished I had. It wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong.
The immaculate grandeur of the white room spread out before me. Inside and out I felt a mess. The reality of my situation had apparently sunk in, and what a clusterfuck it was. Lauren had been right on with the word choice.
“David can do what he wants.” My voice echoed through the room, startlingly loud even over the thumping of the music downstairs. I straightened my shoulders. Tomorrow I would meet with his people and the divorce would be sorted. “David can do what he wants and so can I.”
But what did I want to do? I had no idea. So I unpacked my few items of clothing, settling in for the night. I hung David’s T-shirt over a towel rail to finish drying. It was probably going to be needed for sleep wear. Organizing myself took five minutes, max. You could only refold a couple of tank tops so many ways before you just looked pathetic.
What now?
I hadn’t been invited to the party downstairs. No way did I want to think about what might be happening in the pool house. Doubtless David was giving Bikini Girl everything I’d wanted in Vegas. No sex for me. Instead, he had sent me to my room like a naughty child.
What a room it was. The adjoining bathroom had a tub larger than my bedroom back home. Plenty of space to splash around. It was tempting. But I never had been much good at getting sent to my room. On the few occasions it happened at home I used to climb out the window and sit outside with a book. As rebellions went it lacked a lot, but I’d been satisfied. There was a lot to be said for being a quiet achiever.
Screw staying in the room of splendor. I couldn’t do it.
No one noticed me as I crept back down the stairs. I slunk into the closest corner and settled in to watch the beautiful people at play. It was fascinating. Bodies writhed on an impromptu dance floor in the middle of the room. Someone lit up a cigar nearby, filling the air with a rich, spicy scent. Puffs of smoke billowed up toward the ceiling, a good twenty feet above. Diamonds glittered and teeth sparkled, and that was just some of the men. Open opulence fought grunge among the mixed crowd. You couldn’t get better people-watching if you tried. No sign of Mal, sadly. At least he’d been friendly.
“You’re new,” a voice said from beside me, startling the crap out of me. I jumped a mile, or at least a few inches.
A man in a black suit lounged against the wall, sipping a glass of amber liquor. This slick black suit was something else. In all likelihood Sam’s had come off the rack, but not this one. I’d never understood the appeal of a suit and tie before, but this man wore them incredibly well. He looked to be about David’s age and he had short dark hair. Handsome, of course. Like David, he had the whole divine cheekbones thing going on.
“You know, if you move another foot over you’ll disappear entirely behind that palm.” He took another sip of his drink. “Then no one would see you.”
“I’ll give it some thought.” I didn’t bother denying I was in hiding. Apparently it was already obvious to all.
He smiled, flashing a dimple. Tommy Byrnes had dimples. He’d inured me to their power. The man leaned closer, so as to be heard more easily over the music, most likely. The fact that he backed it up by taking a decent-sized step toward me seemed unnecessary. Personal space was a wonderful thing. Something about this guy gave me the creeps, despite the swanky suit.
“I’m Jimmy.”
“Ev.”
He pursed his lips, staring at me. “Nope, I definitely don’t know you. Why don’t I know you?”
“You know everyone else?” I surveyed the room, highly dubious. “There are a lot of people here.”
“There are,” he agreed. “And I know them all. Everyone except you.”
“David invited me.” I didn’t want to drop David’s name but I was being pushed into a corner, figuratively and literally as Jimmy closed in on me.
“Did he now?” His eyes looked wrong, the pupils pinpricks. Something was wrong with this guy. He stared down at the small amount of cleavage I had on display like he intended to plant his face there.
“Yeah. He did.”
Jimmy didn’t exactly seem pleased by the news. He threw back his drink, finishing it off in one large mouthful. “So, David invited you to the party.”
“He invited me to stay for a few days,” I said, which was not a lie. Happily, hopefully, he had somehow missed the news about David and me. Or maybe he was just too stoned to put two and two together. Either way, I wasn’t filling him in.
“Really? That was nice of him.”
“Yes, it was.”
“What room did he put you in?” He stood in front of me and dropped his empty glass into the pot plant with a careless hand. His grin looked manic. My need to get away from him gained immediate urgency.
“The white one,” I said, looking for a way around him. “Speaking of which, I’d better get back.”
“The white room? My, my, aren’t you special.”
“Aren’t I just? Excuse me.” I pushed past him, giving up on social niceties.
He mustn’t have expected it because he stumbled back a step. “Hey. Hold up.”
“Jimmy.” David appeared, earning my instant gratitude. “There a problem here?”
“Not at all,” said Jimmy. “Just getting to know … Ev.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t need to know … Ev.”
The guy’s smile was expansive. “Come on. You know how I like pretty new things.”
“Let’s go,” David said to me.
“It’s not like you to cock-block, Davie,” said Jimmy. “Didn’t I see the lovely Kaetrin with you earlier out on the balcony? Why don’t you go find her, get her to do what she’s so damn good at? Me and Ev are busy here.”
“Actually, no, we’re not,” I said. And why was David back so soon from his playtime with Bikini Girl? He couldn’t possibly have been concerned about his little wife’s wellbeing, surely.
Neither of them appeared to have heard me.
“So you invited her to stay in my house,” said Jimmy.
“I was under the impression Adrian rented the place for all of us while we’re working on the album. Something changed I don’t know about?”
Jimmy laughed. “I like the place. Decided to buy it.”
“Great. Let me know when the deal’s going through and I’ll be sure to get out. In the meantime, my guests are none of your business.”
Jimmy looked at me, face alight with malicious glee. “It’s her, isn’t it? The one you married, you stupid son of a bitch.”
“Come on.” David grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the stairwell. His jaw was clenched tight enough to make a muscle pop out on the side.
“I could have had her against a wall at a fucking party and you married her?”
Bullshit he could have.
David’s fingers squeezed my hand tight.
Jimmy chortled like the cretin he was. “She is nothing, you sorry fuck. Look at her. Just look at her. Tell me this marriage didn’t come courtesy of vodka and cocaine.”
It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. Well, apart from the marriage reference. But his words still bit. Before I could tell Jimmy what I thought of him, however, the iron-hard hold on my hand disappeared. David charged back to him, grabbing hold of his lapels. They were pretty evenly matched. Both were tall, well built. Neither looked ready to back down. The room hushed, all conversation stopping, though the music thumped on.
“Go for it, little brother,” hissed Jimmy. “Show me who the star of this show really is.”
David’s shoulders went rigid beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt. Then with a snarl he released Jimmy, shoving him back a step. “You’re as bad as Mom. Look at you, you’re a fucking mess.”
I stared at the two of them, stunned. These two were the brothers in the band. Same dark hair and handsome faces. I clearly hadn’t married into the happiest of families. Jimmy looked almost shamefaced.
My husband marched back past me, collecting my arm along the way. Every eye was on us. An elegant brunette took a step forward, hand outstretched. Distress lined her lovely face. “You know he doesn’t mean it.”
“Stay out of it, Martha,” said my husband, not slowing down at all.
The woman shot me a look of distaste. Worse yet, of blame. With the way David was acting, I had a bad feeling that was going around.
Up the steps he dragged me, then down the hallway toward my room. We said nothing. Maybe this time he’d lock me in. Jam a chair under the door handle, perhaps. I could understand him being mad at Jimmy. That guy was a dick of epic proportions. But what had I done? Apart from escaping my plush prison, of course.
Halfway along the long hallway I liberated my limb from his tender care. I had to do something before he cut off the blood supply to my fingers.
“I know the way,” I said.
“Still wanna get some, huh? You should have said something, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” he said with a false smile. “And hey, you’re not even shit-faced tonight. Chances are you’d remember.”
“Ouch.”
“Something I said untrue?”
“No. But I still think it’s fair to say you’re being an ass.”
He stopped dead and looked at me, eyes wide, startled if anything. “I’m being an ass? Fucking hell, you’re my wife!”
“No, I’m not. You said so yourself. Right before you went off to play in the pool house with your friend,” I said. Though he hadn’t stayed long in the pool house, obviously. Five, six minutes maybe? I almost felt bad for Bikini Girl. That wasn’t service with a smile.
Dark brows descended like thunderclouds. He was less than impressed. Bad luck. My feelings toward him were likewise at an all-time low.
“You’re right. My bad. Should I take you back to my brother?” he asked, cracking his knuckles like a Neanderthal and staring back down the hallway from where we’d come.
“No, thank you.”
“That was real nice making fuck-me eyes at him, by the way. Out of everyone down there, you had to be flirting with Jimmy,” he sneered. “Classy, Ev.”
“That’s honestly what you think was happening?”
“What with you and him getting all fucking cozy in the corner?”
“Seriously?”
“I know Jimmy and I know girls around Jimmy. That’s definitely what it looked like, baby.” He held his arms out wide. “Prove me wrong.”
I wasn’t even certain I knew how to make fuck-me eyes. But I definitely hadn’t been making them at that tool downstairs. No wonder so many marriages ended in divorce. Marriage sucked and husbands were the worst. My shoulders were caving in on me. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so small.
“I think your brother issues might be even worse than your wife issues, and that’s saying something.” Slowly, I shook my head. “Thank you for offering me the opportunity to defend myself. I really appreciate it. But you know what, David? I’m just not convinced your good opinion is worth it.”
He flinched.
I walked away before I said something worse. Forget anything amicable. The sooner we were divorced, the better.