CHAPTER SIX
“So, hang on, this song isn’t about his dog dying or something?”
“You’re not funny,” I laughed.
“I so am.” Mal sniggered at the opposite end of the couch as Tim McGraw let rip about his kind of rain on the flat screen TV taking up the opposite wall. “Why do they all wear such big hats, do you think? I have a theory.”
“Shush.”
The way these people lived blew my tiny little mind. Mal, short for Malcolm, lived in a place at the beach that was mostly a three-story architectural feat of steel and glass. It was amazing. Not ridiculously huge like the place in the hills, but awe-inspiring just the same. My Dad would have been in raptures over the minimalism of it, the cleanliness of the lines or some such. I just appreciated having a friend in my time of need.
Mal’s house was clearly a bachelor pad-slash-den of iniquity. I’d had a vague notion to make lunch to thank him for taking me in but there wasn’t a single speck of food in the house. Beer filled the fridge and vodka the freezer. Oh, no, there was a bag of oranges used as wedges to go with shots of vodka, apparently. He’d ruled out touching those. His super slick coffee machine, however, made everything right. He even had decent beans. I wowed him by busting out a few of my barista moves. After drinking three cups in the space of an hour, I felt a lot more like my old well-planned, caffeinated self.
Mal dialed for pizza and we watched TV late into the night. Mostly he found his joy in mocking my taste in pretty much everything: movies, music, the lot. At least he did it good-naturedly. We couldn’t go outside because a couple of photographers were waiting on the beach. I felt bad about it but he’d just shrugged it off.
“What about this song?” he asked. “You like this?”
Miranda Lambert strode on screen in a cool ’50s frock and I grinned. “Miranda is mighty.”
“I’ve met her.”
I sat up straight. “Really?”
More sniggering from Mal. “You’re impressed I’ve met Miranda Lambert but you didn’t even know who I was. Honestly, woman, you are hard on the ego.”
“I saw the gold and platinum records lining the hallway, buddy. I’m thinking you can take it.”
He snorted.
“You know, you remind me a lot of my brother.” I almost managed to duck the bottle cap he flicked at me. It bounced off my forehead. “What was that for?”
“Can’t you at least pretend to worship me?”
“No. Sorry.”
With total disregard for my Lambert love, Mal started surfing the channels. Home shopping, football, Gone with the Wind, and me. Me on TV.
“Wait,” I said.
He groaned. “Not a good idea.”
First my school pictures paraded past, followed by one of Lauren and me at our senior prom. They even had a reporter standing across the road from Ruby’s, prattling on about my life before being elevated to the almighty status of David’s wife. And then there was the man himself in some concert footage, guitar in his hands as he sang backup. The lyrics were your typical my-woman-is-mean, “She’s my one and only, she’s got me on my knees …” I wondered if he’d write songs about me. If so, odds were they’d be highly uncomplimentary. “Shit.” I hugged a couch cushion tight to my chest.
Mal leaned over and fluffed my hair. “David’s the favorite, darlin’. He’s pretty, plays guitar, and writes the songs. Girlies faint when he walks by. Team that with your being a young ’un and you’ve got the news of the week.”
“I’m twenty-one.”
“And he’s twenty-six. It’s enough of a difference if they hype it just right.” Mal sighed. “Face it, child bride. You got married in Vegas by an Elvis impersonator to one of rock ’n’ roll’s favorite sons. It was always bound to cause a shit storm. Given there’s also been some crap going on with the band lately … what with Jimmy partying like it’s 1999 and Dave losing his music-writing mojo. Well, you get the picture. But next week, someone else will do something wacky and all the attention will move on.”
“I guess so.”
“I know so. People are constantly f*cking up. It’s a glorious thing.” He sat back with his hands behind his head. “Go on, smile for Uncle Mal. You know you want to.”
I smiled half-heartedly.
“That’s a bullshit smile and I’m ashamed of you. You’re not going to fool anyone with that. Try again.”
I tried harder, smiling ’til my cheeks hurt.
“Damn. Now you just look like you’re in pain.”
Banging on the front door interrupted our merriment.
Mal raised his brows at me. “Wondered how long he’d take.”
“What?” I trailed him to the front door, lurking behind a divider just in case it was more press.
He opened the door and David charged in, face tight and furious. “You piece of shit. You better not have touched her. Where is she?”
“The child bride is otherwise occupied.” Mal cocked his head, taking David in with a cool glance. “Why the f*ck do you even care?”
“Don’t start with me. Where is she?”
Quietly, Mal shut the door, facing off against his friend. I hesitated, hanging back. Alright, so I skulked in a cowardly fashion. Whatever.
Mal crossed his arms. “You left her to face Adrian and three lawyers on her own. You, my friend, are most definitely the piece of shit in this particular scenario.”
“I didn’t know Adrian would go at her with all that.”
“You didn’t want to know,” said Mal. “Lie to everyone else out there, Dave. Not me. And sure as f*ck not to yourself.”
“Back off.”
“You need some serious life advice, friend.”
“Who are you, Oprah?”
Coughing out a laugh, Mal slumped against the wall. “Hell, yeah. Soon I’m gonna be giving out cars, so stick around.”
“What did she say?”
“Who, Oprah?”
David just scowled at him. He didn’t even notice me spying. Sad to say, even a scowling David was a thing of rare beauty. He did things to me. Complicated things. My heart tripped about in my chest. The anger and emotion in his voice couldn’t be concern for me. That made no sense, not after last night and this morning. I had to be projecting and it sucked that I even wanted him to care. My head made no sense. Getting away from this guy was the safest option all round.
“Dave, she was so upset she took a swing at me.”
“Bullshit.”
“I kid you not. She was nearly in tears when I found her,” said Mal.
I banged my forehead in silent agony against the wall. Why the hell did Mal have to tell him that?
My husband hung his head. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“Seems you didn’t mean for a shitload to happen.” Mal shook his head and tutted. “Did you even mean to marry her, dude? Seriously?”
David’s face screwed up, his brow doing the wrinkly James Dean thing again. “I don’t know anymore, okay? F*ck. I went to Vegas because I was so sick of all this shit and I met her. She was different. She seemed different that night. I just … I wanted something outside of all this f*cking idiocy for a change.”
“Poor Davey. Did being a rock god get old?”
“Where is she?”
“I feel your manpain, bro. Really, I do. I mean, all you wanted was a girl that wouldn’t kiss your ass for once and now you’re pissed at her for the same damn reason. It’s complicated, right?”
“F*ck you. Leave it alone, Mal. It’s done.” My husband huffed out a breath. “Anyway, she’s the one who wanted the f*cking divorce. Why aren’t you giving her the third degree, huh?”
With a dramatic sigh, Mal flung out his arms. “Because she’s really busy hiding around the corner, listening. I can’t disturb her now.”
David’s body stilled and his blue eyes found me. “Evelyn.”
Huh. Busted.
I stepped away from the wall and tried to put on a happy face. It didn’t work. “Hi.”
“She says that so well.” Mal turned to me and winked. “So did you really ask the mighty David Ferris for a divorce?”
“She threw up on me when I told her we were married,” my husband reported.
“What?” Mal dissolved into laughter, tears leaking from his eyes. “Are you serious? F*cking hell, that is fantastic. Oh, man, I wish I’d been there.”
I gave David what I hoped to be the meanest look in all of time and space. He stared back, unimpressed.
“It was the floor,” I clarified. “I didn’t throw up on him.”
“That time,” said David.
“Please keep going,” said Mal, laughing harder than ever. “This just gets better and better.”
David didn’t. Thank God.
“Seriously, I f*cking love your wife, man. She’s awesome. Can I have her?”
The look I got from David spoke of a much more reluctant affection. With the line between his brows, it was closer to outright irritation. I blew him a kiss. He looked away, hands fisted like he was barely holding himself back from throttling me. The feeling was entirely mutual.
Ah, marital bliss.
“You two are just the best.” A chiming sound came from Mal’s pocket and he pulled out a cell phone. Whatever he saw on the screen stopped his laughter dead. “You know, you should take her to your house, Dave.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” David’s mouth pulled wide in a truly pained expression.
I didn’t think it was a good idea either. Happily, I’d go through life without setting foot inside the house of horrors ever again. Maybe if I asked Mal nicely he’d fetch my stuff for me. Imposing on him further didn’t appeal, but I was running low on options.
“Whoa.” With a grim face, Mal shoved his cell at David.
“F*ck,” David mumbled. He wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and squeezed. The worried glance he gave me from beneath his dark brows set every alarm ringing inside my head. Whatever was on that screen was bad.
Really bad.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Oh, you, ah … you don’t need to worry about it.” His gaze dropped to the phone again then he passed it back to Mal. “My place would be cool, actually. We should do that. Fun. Yeah.”
“No.” For David to be so nice to me it had to be something truly bad. I held out my hand, fingers twitching from impatience or nerves or a bit of both. “Show me.”
After a reluctant nod from David, Mal handed it over.
There could be no doubting what it was, even on the small screen. There was a lot of skin on account of my being bare from the waist down. My naked butt sat front and centre in all its pale, dimpled glory. God, it looked huge. Had they used a wide lens camera or something? The party dress had been pushed up and I stood, bent over a table while a tattoo artist worked hard inking my rear. My panties had been cinched down, barely covering the basics. Shit. Talk about a compromising position. Taking part in a porn shoot was definitely not part of the plan.
At the other end of the frame, our faces were close together and David was smiling. Huh. So that was what he looked like when he smiled.
I remembered it then, the buzz of the needle, and him talking to me, holding my hands. At first, that needle had stung. “You were pretending to bite my fingers. The tattoo artist got mad at us for messing around.”
David tipped his chin. “Yeah. You were s’posed to be keeping still.”
I nodded, trying to remember more but coming up empty.
People would see this picture. People had seen this. People I knew and strangers both. Anyone and everyone. My head spun woozily the same as it had then. Only alcohol wasn’t at fault this time.
“How did they get it?” I asked, my voice wavering and my heart at my toes. Or maybe that was just what remained of my tattered dignity.
David gave me sad eyes. “I don’t know. We were in a private room. This should never have happened but people get offered a lot of money for this sort of thing.”
I nodded and handed Mal back his phone. My hand shook. “Right. Well …”
They both just looked at me, faces tense, waiting for me to burst into tears or something. Not happening.
“It’s okay,” I said, doing my best to believe it.
“Sure,” said Mal.
David shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s not even that clear a picture.”
“No, it’s not,” I agreed. The pity in his eyes was more than I could take. “Excuse me a minute.”
Fortunately, the closest bathroom was only a short dash away. I locked the door and sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi, trying to slow my breathing, trying to be calm. There was nothing I could do. The picture was already out there. This was no death and dismemberment. It was a stupid picture of me in a compromising position showing more skin than I liked, but so what. Big deal. Accept it and move on. Despite the fact that everyone I knew would likely see it. Worse things had happened in the history of the world. I just needed to put it in context and stay calm.
“Ev?” David tapped lightly on the door. “Are you okay?”
“Yep.” No. Not really.
“Let me in?”
I gave the door a pained look.
“Please.”
Slowly, I stood and flicked the lock. David wandered in and shut the door behind him. No ponytail today. His dark hair hung down, framing his face. He had three small silver earrings in one ear playing peek-a-boo behind his hair. I stared at them because meeting his eyes was out of the question. I was not going to cry. Not about this. What the hell was even wrong with my eyes lately? Letting him in had been dumb.
With a heavy frown he stared down at me. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, it is. I should have looked after you better.”
“No, David.” I swallowed hard. “We were both drunk. God, this is all so horrifically, embarrassingly stupid.”
He just stared at me.
“Sorry.”
“Hey, you’re allowed to be upset. That was a private moment. It shouldn’t be out there.”
“No,” I agreed. “I … actually, I’d like to be alone for a minute.”
He made a growly noise and suddenly his arms wrapped around me, pulling me in against him. He caught me off guard and I stumbled, my nose bumping into his chest. It hurt. But he smelled good. Clean, male, and good. Familiar. Some part of me remembered being this close to him and it was comforting. Something in my mind said ‘safe’. But I couldn’t remember how or why.
A hand moved restlessly over my back.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “So f*cking sorry.”
The kindness was too much. Stupid tears flowed. “I’d hardly even shown anyone my ass and now it’s all over the internet.”
“I know, baby.”
He rested his head against the top of mine, holding on tight as I blubbered into his T-shirt. Having someone to hold onto helped. It would be okay. Deep down I knew it would be. But right then I couldn’t see my way clear. Standing there with his arms around me felt right.
I don’t know when we started swaying. David rocked me gently from side to side as if we were dancing to some slow song. The overwhelming temptation to stay like that with my face pressed into his shirt was what made me step back, pull myself together. His hands sat lightly on my hips, the connection not quite broken.
“Thanks,” I said.
“S’okay.” The front of his shirt had a damp patch, care of me.
“Your shirt’s all wet.”
He shrugged.
I ugly-cried. It was a gift of mine. The mirror confirmed it, demon-red eyes and flushed fluoro-pink cheeks. With an awkward smile I stepped away from him and his hands fell back to his sides. I splashed my face with water and dried it on a towel while he stood idly by, frowning.
“Let’s go for a drive,” he said.
“Really?” I gave him a dubious look. David and me alone? Given the marriage situation and our previous sober encounters it didn’t seem the wisest plan.
“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together, getting all enthused. “Just you and me. We’ll get out of here for a while.”
“David, like you said out there, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You want to stay in LA?” he scoffed.
“Look, you’ve been really sweet since you stepped through that door. Well, apart from telling Mal about me puking on you. That was unnecessary. But in the preceding twenty-four hours you dumped me alone in a room, went off with a groupie, accused me of trying to get it on with your brother and sicced your posse of lawyers onto me.”
He said nothing.
“Not that you going off with a groupie is any of my business. Of course.”
He turned on his heel and paced to the other end of the bathroom, his movements tight, angry. Despite it being five times the size of the one back home, it still didn’t leave enough room for a showdown like this. And he was between me and the door. Because suddenly exiting seemed a smart move.
“I just asked them to sort out the paperwork,” he said.
“And they sure did.” I put my hands on my hips, standing my ground. “I don’t want any of your money.”
“I heard.” His face was carefully blank. My statement prompted in him none of the disbelief or mockery it had in the suited bullies. Lucky for him. I doubt he believed me, but at least he was willing to pretend. “They’re drawing up new papers.”
“Good.” I stared him down. “You don’t have to pay me off. Don’t make assumptions like that. If you want to know something, ask. And I was never going to sell the story to the press. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Okay.” He slumped against the wall, leaning his head back to stare up at nothing. “Sorry,” he told the ceiling. I’m sure the plasterwork appreciated it immensely.
When I made no response, his gaze eventually found me. It had to be wrong, or at the very least immoral, to be so pretty. Normal people didn’t stand a chance. My heart took a dive every time I looked at him. No, a dive didn’t cover it. It plummeted.
Where was Lauren to tell me I was being melodramatic when I needed her most?
“I’m sorry, Ev,” he repeated. “I know the last twenty-four hours have been shit. Offering to get out of here for a while was my way of trying to make things better.”
“Thank you,” I said. “And also for coming in here to check on me.”
“No problem.” He stared at me, eyes unguarded for once. And the honesty in his gaze changed things for me, the brief flash of something more. Sadness or loneliness, I don’t know. A kind of weariness that was there and gone before I could understand. But it left its mark. There was a lot more to this man than a pretty face and a big name. I needed to remember that and not make my own assumptions.
“You really want to go?” I asked. “Really?”
His eyes were bright with amusement. “Why not?”
I gave him a cautious smile.
“We can talk over whatever we need to, just you and me. I need to make a couple of calls then we’ll head off, okay?”
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
With a parting nod he opened the door and strode back out. He and Mal talked quietly about something in the lounge room. I took the opportunity to wash my face once more and finger-brush my hair for luck. The time had come to take control. Actually, it was well overdue. What was I doing, bouncing from one disaster to the next? That wasn’t me. I liked being in control, having a plan. Time to stop worrying about what I couldn’t change and take decisive action on what I could. I had money saved up. One of these days my poor old car would die and I’d been planning accordingly. Because once winter hit, and things turned cold, gray, and wet, walking wouldn’t always appeal. The thought of using my savings didn’t fill me with glee, but emergency measures and all that.
David’s lawyers would draw up papers minus the money and I would sign them. No point worrying about that side of things. However, getting out of the public eye for a couple of weeks was well within my capabilities. I just needed to stop and think for a change instead of reacting. I was a big girl and I could take care of myself. The time had come to prove it. I’d go for the drive with him, sort out the basics, and get gone, first on a hide-away holiday, and then back to my very ordinary, well ordered life devoid of any rock-star interventions.
Yes.
“Give me the keys to the Jeep,” said David, squaring off against Mal in the lounge.
Mal winced. “I was joking about giving away cars.”
“Come on. Quit bitching. I rode over on the bike and I don’t have a helmet for her.”
“Fine.” With a sour face Mal dropped his car keys into David’s outstretched hand. “But only cause I like your wife. Not a scratch, you hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah.” David turned and saw me. A hint of a smile curled his lips.
Except for that first day on the bathroom floor, I’d never seen him smile, never even seen him come close. This bare trace of one made me light up inside. My knees wobbled. That couldn’t be normal. I shouldn’t be feeling all warm and happy just because he was. I couldn’t afford to have any feelings for him at all. Not if I wanted to get out of this in one piece.
“Thanks for putting up with me today, Mal,” I said.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he drawled. “Sure you wanna go with him, child bride? F*cktard here made you cry. I make you laugh.”
David’s smile disappeared and he strode to my side. His hand sat lightly against the base of my spine, warm even through the layer of clothing. “We’re out of here.”
Mal grinned and winked at me.
“Where are we going?” I asked David.
“Does it matter? Let’s just drive.”