“Oh,” she said. “That.” She chuckled again and added, “Well, I can’t say that your cousin was ever in the same league as your boyfriend in that department. But yeah, I guess the women grated on my nerves a bit. They were just always there, always hanging around.”
I certainly knew what that was like. “But like, did you ever feel… violated? Like how the press and the women are all odds stacked against you? Like you never have a private moment, that you can’t go anywhere without being recognized, worrying about stalkers, hounded by people asking questions, asking for autographs, taking pictures, like anything you do is made public the second you do it, like the problems you should be working on are lost in the background because of it…?”
I realized I was rambling and that of course Livia had no real experience with those things. Few people did.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said. “I guess this past month has been a little overwhelming.”
“Look, Layla. I can only imagine that all that stuff must be pretty hard to deal with.” She gave a sigh at that and said, “The bottom line is, if you love him, then you learn to deal with it, right? Some people get annoying in-laws; we get the fame. Every relationship has their burdens to bear. What matters is how you deal with those burdens together. The little bit of fame we went through was no picnic, though, so I know I wouldn’t go back to that life for anything. Jack starts missing the whole rock star thing every now and then, but I just send him out to get a new tattoo and that normally calms him down.”
“What about Lutz Hamburg?”
“The producer guy? What about him?”
“The Super Bowl last month. Trip said he ran into Jack and him there. He’s going to do that soundtrack, right?”
Livia was silent for a beat too long, and I thought there was a chance I’d spoken out of turn. Shit. Did she not know about that? I hoped I didn’t just inadvertently get my cousin sent to the doghouse. But she allayed my concerns when she said, “Oh. Yeah, that. He hasn’t really decided yet.”
She wrapped up the conversation quickly after that, and I sat there for a few extra minutes, trying to figure out what to do about Trip.
Yes, I was pissed and unsure about just exactly what was happening between us, but I wasn’t even allowing myself to consider the possibility that we were over. I decided to concentrate on the memoir. It would be a special gift for him, a way to show him how much I loved him by getting every detail down perfectly.
An assignment like that was an obsessive-compulsive’s dream.
I had to drive into the city to do the proper research, get the right vibe for the New York chapters of our story, maybe take some pictures. I knew there was plenty of time to send Livia back in to take some more professional shots for the actual book, but for right then, I just wanted to give her an idea of the visuals I’d be going for.
I hit the TRU Times Square, and prayed that Concierge Cat would be behind the front desk. The girl had a serious ass-whooping coming her way, but she wasn’t there. I assumed she’d probably been fired a long time ago. I snapped some shots of the lobby, then headed back outside. Down the street was the movie theater where we’d caught a showing of Swayed, and the diner around the corner where we’d pigged out afterward.
Then I zoomed down to the Village to my old apartment building, but wasn’t able to finagle my way up to the roof, much less my old apartment. I took some exterior shots of the building instead.
The last stop was Beth Israel Hospital, where Trip was treated after he’d broken his arm.
I’d just made my way to the front desk when I turned and collided into a woman coming around the corner. We were both holding folders, the contents of which had gone flying through the air upon impact.
That’s when I realized I had literally just bumped into Kate.
Kate Warren.
My mother.
Chapter 28
A HOLE IN MY HEART
I was frozen with shock. I knew it was her just as sure as I knew my own name. My name that she’d lifted from a Clapton song over thirty-one years before. It was a killer song, but still. That’s a pretty lame-ass thing to do to a kid.
She hadn’t really looked at me yet, and she definitely didn’t recognize me as she started apologizing profusely, bending down to pick up our collective papers, separating them on the receptionist’s counter into two piles, hers and mine. I stood there glued in my place, jaw slightly agape, watching the woman who’d given me life giggle casually as she cleaned up her mess.
I didn’t know what I should do. Talk to her? Introduce myself? Run? I sure as hell was eyeing up Option Three right at that moment.
Before I could make a decision, she stood and met my eyes.
Her smile abruptly disappeared.