“Do you want to know why we left LA? So we could raise our kids without the likes of you assholes looming around us. I’m so fucking done.”
I walk away and can hear footsteps behind me. As soon as I’m in the green room the lamp closest to the door is flying across the room, shattering into a million pieces. The door shuts, and when I look behind me it’s Harrison and JD.
“I’m sorry,” I say, running my hands over my face. “I lost it and you’ll be the ones to suffer in the end.” I wouldn’t be surprised if they ditch me for another band. I’m hotheaded and my temper sucks. Families should be off-limits, but they’re not, and mine is going to be paying dearly because of that fact.
“You were right to get up and leave,” Harrison says, as he sits down.
I shake my head and sigh. “I shouldn’t have said that shit about Sam, even if it is true.”
“She brings out the worst in ya, mate.”
“The thing is, she wasn’t always like that. I did that to her. All she wanted to do was love me and make me this big star, but I was so fucking hung up on my mistakes and my past that I refused to let her in. When I did, it was for sex because she was easy. I knew she wanted me and I led her on repeatedly.”
A knock on the door stops me from speaking. JD answers it, and Calista Jones is standing on the other side.
“Sorry darlin’, I’m pretty sure that anything you have to say is going to result in a no comment from us. Move along, now.” JD tries to shut the door but her hand stops it.
“I think you should listen to what I have to say.”
“Alright, we’re all ears. Say your peace, then be on your way,” JD instructs.
“I’d like to speak privately with Liam.”
“Nice try, but that ain’t gonna happen, love,” JD says, clearly in control of the room right now.
“Fine,” she says, straightening her suit jacket. “Mr. Page, I’ve done nothing wrong. The diaries were sent to me, along with a list of people I should contact about you. Your threat to sue me has not fallen on deaf ears but I must warn you... if you do pursue legal action, I’ll publish Sam’s diaries in full and I don’t think you want that.”
“Are you threatening me?” I ask, as I step forward.
“No more than you are threatening me. Let’s call it an impasse, shall we?”
She turns on her heels and leaves, closing the door behind her. My mouth hangs open and while I’m tempted to call bullshit, I know she’s not bluffing. Who knows what the fuck Sam said in her diaries? One thing I know for certain is that I don’t want to have to defend myself for the rest of my life. I’ve already had enough.
I dial his phone repeatedly. It rings eight times before going to voicemail. He’s either not near it, or just doesn’t want to answer it. At least I can take comfort in knowing that he isn’t declining my calls. Before I give up, I leave him a message telling him that I love him and that we need to talk as soon as possible. I know he’ll be able to hear the distress in my voice, and pray that his love for me is just as strong as mine is for him so that no matter what’s going on, he’ll be honest with me.
Bianca and Noah are sitting in the family room when I come out. Noah’s going to suspect that something is going on and I’ll have to get creative with my answers to his probing questions when he asks them. The fact is, I won’t know what’s going on until Liam calls.
The sound of my voice echoes from the television, causing Noah to laugh. “What on earth are you watching?”
“Your DVD’s,” Bianca says, handing me a cup of tea. “Sit down, he’ll call soon.”
I sort of love that she has so much confidence in her son right now because mine is lacking. She grew up this way, with the media always in her face about things. I can’t imagine what her parents’ divorce was like for her, knowing how things get twisted in the media.
“Thank you.” I hold up the mug, and she smiles before turning her attention back to the television. I sit down in the chair and watch Liam run across the screen. The announcer is screaming as he ticks down the yardage from this run. The kid Mr. Powell hired to film the games follows his every move until Liam enters the end zone.
“That’s going to be me someday,” Noah tells Bianca as he fast forwards through the other team’s offensive run. “I wear number eight just like my dad.”
“Why did you choose that number?” she asks him.
Noah shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve always liked it.”
Bianca beams at Noah and turns her attention back to the TV when he presses play. I’m on screen now, cheering for the team. Secretly, I was only cheering for Liam and Mason, but no one ever needs to know that.
“You were so pretty, Mom.”
“Gee thanks, Noah.”
“Your mom is beautiful, Noah. You should tell her so every day.” My mouth drops open at Bianca’s words. She doesn’t look at me as she speaks and, for that, I’m thankful. I turn my attention back to the TV and pretend the last few seconds never happened.