If looks could kill, Mal would have died under my glare. Probably about fifteen years ago, come to think of it.
On Jimmy’s lap, Gibby’s eyes were closed, lulled to sleep by the familiar voices and soft strains of music, no doubt. Guess we should have realized Gib had fallen asleep when he failed to repeat Mal’s profanity slip. And I’d been trying to talk him into having a nap for hours. Jimmy could out-nanny me without even trying. I actually was the worst.
“I’ll carry him up to bed,” said Ben, lifting him carefully out of the singer’s arms.
Eager to finally escape, I followed, glad to be away from the confusing and complicated array of topics of conversation. Away from the band room, the house was quiet, peaceful. A balm for my frazzled nerves. “Do you really think I could be a manager?”
“I think you could do anything you set your mind to,” Ben answered in a similarly low volume. Sweet of him, really. I had no idea his confidence in me ran so high. His big-ass boots padded quietly along the beige carpet. “We’re not going to talk about Sam, are we?”
“No.”
“Okay, good. Cause he’s my employee and you’re my sister. Not that I don’t care about you both, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay the hell out of it.”
“I’d rather you all stayed the hell out of it since it’s personal and none of your business.” The words came out sharper than I had intended. But the day had not been going according to plan. Maybe if I went back to hiding out in my bedroom at night and keeping Gib away from the practice room during the day, that would work. Me diving behind a couch every time Sam walked in wouldn’t be the least bit suspicious. Much. Perhaps facing difficult things didn’t fall under my list of specialties. At least, not when it came to one man in particular.
He laughed softly. “C’mon, you know what everyone’s like. The chances of them all minding their own business...”
“Great,” I said glumly, trudging up the staircase. “Do you think he meant it when he said he was always on my side?”
Ben looked back at me, gaze soft, understanding almost. “Sis, you ever known Sam to say something he didn’t mean?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Wat den?”
I exhaled. “Then the train drew a picture.”
“Wat den?” asked Gib for about the hundredth time.
“Ah, then the train went for a swim in the pool.”
“Wat den?”
“Well, then the train ate his vegetables. All of them. Without any fuss.”
“No.” His little face scrunched up in disgust. “Wat den?”
“Then the train went to sleep because it was way past his bedtime and he’d been drawing out this whole tell-me-a-story-Aunty-Martha thing for over an hour,” I announced. “The end.”
“No-no-no!”
“Yes, yes, yes,” said Lizzy, wandering over to tuck her son in. “Thank you, Aunty Martha, for the awesome story.”
Gib just frowned. He might have gotten that particular facial expression from me, he did it so well. When I leaned down to kiss him on the brow, however, his little hands reached up and clung to my neck for a moment. As if he actually liked me and maybe appreciated the dumb train story. Not that I teared up or anything because how silly.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” I said, giving him an extra kiss.
Gib smothered a yawn. “More twain.”
“Tomorrow.” Lizzy had her firm-mother voice going on. “That’s enough for now. Thank Aunty Martha.”
“Tank you,” he said tiredly.
“Time to go to sleep,” said Liz, delivering her own goodnight kisses. “I love you.”
“Mommy...”
“Sweet dreams, baby.”
A nightlight turned in slow circles, sending rockets, stars, and hearts moving across the walls. Over in the corner, the toy box was packed full of balls, trucks, a baby bass guitar or two, and various dolls. Gib and I had done a tidy-up earlier and everything seemed in order. Perhaps I wasn’t the absolute worst nanny to ever attempt being in charge of a child.
Despite a full evening of playing hide and seek with Lizzy and Gib, a great distraction from the ridiculous conversation in the band room earlier as it turned out, I was wide awake. Then again, it couldn’t be any later than around nine. His bedtime might be supposed to be eight, but Gibby turned out to be rather ingenious when it came to extending it until all hours. Especially when his father was over working on songs with Uncle David and unavailable for goodnight kisses. Oh the woe. So much woe. Gib had even managed to squeeze out a couple of fake tears. The child was truly a master manipulator and I couldn’t help but be a bit proud of how much effort he put into attempting to get his way. Total dedication to the cause.
“I’ve never heard of trains going shopping for handbags at Louis Vuitton before,” whispered Lizzy, following me out into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind us.
“Every self-respecting train needs a Neverfull.”
“Of course they do.” She slipped the baby monitor thingy onto her belt. “Can I offer you an alcoholic beverage of some description?”
“Sounds good.”
“You know, I was thinking of going for a swim. The pool’s heated. Or we could try out the hot tub?”
I nodded. “Good idea. I’m pretty sure he broke at least part of my back making me give him horsey rides today. Meet you down there.”
One thing I missed living in New York had been spending quality time at the beach. Not that rooftop pools and bars weren’t fun. But they weren’t Malibu. That said, Portland wasn’t Malibu either, though Ben and Lizzy’s outdoor area had been impressively designed and landscaped. During the day, you could see Mount Hood rising in the distance. But night-time was special too. Subdued lighting hid amongst the foliage and under the water, turning it a pale glowing blue. A long glass and stone wall served as an ornate fountain at one end of the pool. Even nature cooperated, delivering up a clear sky with a half moon and scattering of stars high overhead. It was a beautiful night. A peaceful one. And since Ben had gone over to David and Ev’s place before Lizzy got home, I could be reasonably certain they hadn’t yet had time to confer about today’s events. Me managing and Sam’s being on my side etcetera. Lizzy would eventually be all over me about it, but not tonight. Thank God.
Meanwhile, Lizzy must have gotten delayed or something. I collected the waiting wine glasses and requisite bottle sitting in ice off an ornate ironwork table. As if we’d be going back and forth from the hot tub.
Funny thing, the hot tub wasn’t empty and the person in it definitely wasn’t Lizzy.
“Martha,” said Sam, raising his head off the edge to appraise my red bikini. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.” I set the glasses and bottle beside the tub. “Is this a set-up?”
“Not by me.”
I frowned on account of it being my go-to expression.
“I’m out here every night after I finish my workout.”
“Of course you are.” I sighed. “Lizzy would know that.”
For a moment he said nothing, his gaze fixed on my face as if he could read me. And he probably could. “Breeze is cool tonight, but the water’s good and hot. Are you getting in?”
I nodded and carefully made my way down the steps into the as-promised beautifully warm bubbling water. It did feel dangerously good.
“What’s in the bucket?” he asked.
I knelt on the step to inspect the bottle. “Fucking Cristal champagne. This is so a set-up.”
“Doesn’t say much if you have to be tricked into spending time with me,” he said, tone deceptively light.
“You know that’s not it.”
“Do I? Because I can leave if you like.”