“I can’t believe you don’t see it,” I told him quietly.
“See what?”
“You think she’s a nice girl? Ask her what she thinks of me.”
I turned to walk away, because stupid tears were actually forming in my eyes—but Zane grabbed my arm, stopping me. He spun me around to face him and held me by my shoulders. “What does that mean?”
I blinked back my tears, trying to cover the pain with anger. But I couldn’t deal. I was so done. I had nothing left.
Dealing with my dad had taken it all.
“I overheard her talking about me at the Christmas party.” My lips actually quivered as I said the words.
“Talking about you? What do you mean, talking about you?” Zane’s hands tightened on my shoulders, his fingers digging into me.
A part of me couldn’t believe I was really telling him this… But I told him anyway.
“It was late, after a lot of people had left. I found her in the kitchen with her girlfriend. They were drunk, and I guess they were looking in your fridge for booze. They didn’t see me. But I heard her say, ‘Where’s that little brown girl who makes the drinks?’”
Zane stared at me.
I didn’t want to say it, but there it was. I’d never wanted to repeat those ugly words to him.
Zane knew who I was and what I was worth, and everything I did for Dirty. But to some people, all I’d ever be was the little brown girl who made the drinks at a Dirty party.
“She said what?”
I swallowed a sob that threatened to escape. “She said, ‘Where’s that little brown girl who—’”
“Don’t. Don’t fucking say it again.”
I went silent.
“Give me a minute,” he growled. Then he practically tossed me aside as he walked away, leaving me standing here, alone.
I turned right around and left the party. I headed up to my room, just barely holding back the tears. As soon as I’d shut myself into my hotel room, though, the tears won.
I tossed myself on the bed and cried for five solid minutes or so, until I was too exhausted to do it anymore and felt like a useless idiot. What had crying ever done for anyone?
It hadn’t done anything for me when I was a kid. It definitely never solved any of my problems or magically turned my dad into a nice guy.
Then I rolled over onto my back and stared blankly at the ceiling, kinda wishing I’d never gotten up this morning.
Well… the sex on the private jet with Zane… I’d get out of bed for that. And the chocolate cake.
But the rest of it?
To hell with the rest of it.
Maybe fifteen minutes later, there was a soft knock on my hotel room door.
I opened it to find Dallas, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Her gaze barely met mine, and I hoped I didn’t look half the mess that she did.
I’d never had a conversation with this woman before. I really didn’t know her, and she didn’t know me.
I only knew her name because my husband had fucked her.
What the hell did we have to say to each other?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but there wasn’t much remorse in it.
Clearly, she was sorry about whatever just happened between her and Zane, though.
Shady was standing behind her. When I looked at him, he took her by the elbow, gently, and ushered her away.
Chapter Twenty
Zane
When Maggie opened the door of her hotel room for me, she looked like she’d been crying—and it gutted me. How many times had I ever seen Maggie actually cry? Like tears running down her face and everything?
When her mom died. When her stepdad died, too.
And when Dylan’s dad died, she’d been pretty weepy at the funeral.
That was about it.
“What happened at Dizzy’s place?” I demanded as I walked in. “What did he say to you?”
“What did you say to Dallas?” She stood there with her arms wrapped around herself, looking small and off-balance, like she didn’t know if she should hug me or start crying again or what.
And I softened, instantly.
“She’s not coming back,” I told her, taking a gentler tone. “You don’t have to worry about seeing her again.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” I looked her over carefully. She was still wearing the sexy little gray dress I’d seen her in downstairs. “You want me to take you back to the party?”
“No.”
“You want me to leave?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I’m not going to.”
She stared at me for a moment. “What did you say to Dallas, Zane?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Zane.”
I swiped my hand through my hair, smoothing it back from my face. “What do you think I said to her? I told her she’s a fake-ass bitch and she’s never gonna see me again.”
True enough, but actually what I told her was worse than that. I little more colorful. With the shit Maggie told me replaying in my head, wasn’t too hard to completely lose my shit on Dallas.
Didn’t even care that I made her cry. Really couldn’t remember why I’d ever put my dick in her in the first place.
Okay… so maybe I’d been frustrated with Maggie refusing to trust me. I kept thinking she was using her hatred of Dallas as an excuse to treat me like some class-A asshole she could never forgive—and maybe I’d let that blind me to the fact that I should’ve kicked Dallas’ ass to the curb long ago.
Didn’t even rate with me that Dallas was still hanging around trying to get her claws in me, because I didn’t care. That was my bad, though. I should’ve seen it, but I didn’t. I didn’t realize how Maggie would take it. That she’d think I thought a lot more of Dallas than I did.
True, I didn’t have any particularly negative feelings toward Dallas until tonight, but that didn’t mean I had feelings for her. Just because I’d fucked her more than once didn’t mean I cared about her any more that I’d cared about any other chick I’d screwed over the years.
Besides Maggie.
The fact was, Maggie was precious to me. She was my wife.
Even angry and PMSing and tearing me a new one, Maggie Omura was worth more to me than a lineup of Dallases, naked and willing. And a chick like that making fucking degrading comments about her?
Fuck. That.
“And by the way,” I said, starting to pace a little, “you ever hear anyone talking about you like that again, you tell me.” The whole thing was fucking agitating me. That she didn’t give me a chance to make it right before this. Or at least tell Jude or someone. “Or you tell Jude. Or Jesse or Brody or Shady, or whoever’s nearby. That shit does not stand, Maggie.”
“Okay,” she said, but I really didn’t feel it.
“You feel me on that? I’m fucking serious about this.”
She eyed me carefully as I paced back and forth in front of her. “You may be serious,” she said, slowly, “but I really don’t think you want to hear all the shit people say about me behind your back, Zane.”
That stopped me cold. “What are you talking about?”
She sighed a little, in that way she did when I was being an idiot. “I’m female, I’m young, I’m mixed-race, and I’m pretty, and I work in a business that’s driven by money, men, and sexuality. You think I haven’t heard every sexist, racist, ignorant and cruel comment there is? Not to mention that if we go public with our marriage, every other girl from here to Tokyo is going to hate on me. Publicly.”
Well, shit.
I never really thought of it like that before.
Personally, I thought the fucking world of Maggie. Always had. Pretty much everyone around me in the Dirty world treated the woman like solid gold, and that’s what I was accustomed to. Comfortably accustomed to.
It never occurred to me that anyone would look down on her or be mean to her because she was young or pretty or had darker skin than mine.
>
Definitely hadn’t occurred to me that anyone would hate her because I loved her.
Jesus Christ.
I sat down on the couch. And I tried to really feel the weight of it; how hard this was gonna be for her.
Maggie never asked to be famous. She never set out to fall in love with a rock star… or someone so like her dad. Someone who’d bring so much drama into her life.
“They’re not gonna hate you,” I said, slowly, thinking it through. “The fans love Katie.”
“Sure. A lot of them do. But I’m not Katie and you’re not Jesse, and you really don’t know how they’re going to react.”
“You’re right. I don’t know. And I’m sure Katie’s had her share of hate mail, so to speak. I don’t exactly see that keeping her and Jesse apart, though. I’d dare any chick to say an unkind word about Katie, see how he reacts.”
“I know you’d stand up for me, Zane, if you could. But that’s not the entire picture.” Maggie came over and sat down beside me on the couch. “You know, my mom used to get letters, over the years, from fans of my dad. Total strangers who admired her for mothering his child, or who condemned her for mothering his child. People who’d made up all these grand fantasies about her in their heads that weren’t even true. She wrote back to almost all of them. I could never do that. I don’t want a bunch of strangers weighing in on my life. I know you welcome it, that you like being the center of attention. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You thrive on it. I definitely don’t. It’s just one of the things about us that’s at odds, that we like about each other anyway, right? But you’re not always going to be there to make the Dallases of the world apologize to me.”
“Yeah,” I told her. “I will. That’s what a marriage is.”
Maggie’s eyes softened as she stared at me. “Zane…”
“You keep telling me I don’t know what marriage is or I don’t know what love is, Maggie. But I know I love you. And the thought of anyone hurting you makes me want to grab the nearest gun and start shooting.”
She just stared at me.
“Your dad never even tried to protect you or your mom, Maggs. Your mom should never have had to read those letters alone. She wouldn’t have had to face that shit alone if Dizzy had ever cared for either of you the way he should have.”
She nodded.
“You feel that?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I feel that.”
“Good. I feel it too, Maggie. It kills me that you’ve gone through what he’s put you through. I’m not gonna stand by and let anyone hurt you. I don’t care who knows I love you. I don’t care who knows I’m married to you. If anyone’s got a problem with it, I don’t give a fuck. I haven’t talked to anyone about the wedding or that gossip article since you took off to see Dizzy. I haven’t even talked to Brody. Because you asked me not to, and you trusted me not to. But I’m not gonna keep my mouth shut forever. People have been asking me about it all day, and I’m not gonna deny that we had a wedding when they keep asking me. It’s fucking true.”
Her expression darkened. It was still a sticky point with her, and the girl wasn’t giving up on it easily. “But it’s not up to you to decide that, Zane.”
“I’m not gonna lie about it, Maggie. Let people say what they’re gonna say about us. They’re gonna do it anyway. I’m not gonna let that control our lives.”
“It’s not a lie. We just need to decide what we want to say publicly, and when.”
“It is a lie if I say anything other than the truth. They’ve already printed the truth. It’s already out there.”
“But we need to discuss it first,” she said, getting frustrated.
“What’s to discuss? It’s true. We got married.”
“We did,” she said, her gray eyes on mine, steady. “And if you really want us to have a marriage, you can’t make decisions about this kind of thing without me. We’re in this together, right?”
I swiped my hand over my face. “You know what? You’re right.”
She stared at me and blinked, like a little gray-eyed owl. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re right. You’re usually right.”
Maggie actually looked stunned at those words out of my mouth. But fuck it; I thought she was right most of the time.
“I am?”
“You’re right about most things, Maggie. But honestly, if you want my opinion, I really don’t think you should’ve run off to talk to your dad today. What did that get you?”
“Nothing,” she admitted.
“Right. It got you sweet fuck-all, because that’s all the man has to give. If you ask me, you should’ve stayed right here, with me, so we could deal with this shit together.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “You’re right about that. I see that now.” She sighed. “Does it make me the world’s worst idiot because I actually hoped he’d care that I was upset?”
“No. It doesn’t make you an idiot, Maggie.” I sighed myself; it fucking ate me up when she talked to that prick, because it always ended the same way—with Maggie hurt and upset.
And shit, but I wanted to be a better man than her father.
I was pretty fucking sure I was. I was pretty sure Maggie didn’t think I was the dirtbag her dad was, either… but I wasn’t sure her heart really felt the difference between the two of us yet.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Maggs, okay? I’m telling you. When it comes to our relationship, you always knew better than I did where we were at. If it was up to me, we would’ve been fucking from day one, and that would’ve been a travesty because I was a fucking drunk, and I know I would’ve fucked everything up even worse than I have now, and we never would’ve made it this far.”
“You haven’t fucked everything up, Zane,” she said, her voice soft.
“Right.”
She slipped her hand over my knee. “I told you the night we got married that you were a damn good husband. In a lot of ways, you really have been.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “I have?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You love me. I don’t doubt that you love me with every part of you.”
I slid my hand over hers and squeezed gently. “What can I say? You’re under my skin, Maggie May.”
She sighed unhappily at that and shook her head. “God. You must think I’m a real bitch.”
A smile twitched at my lips. “Sometimes.”
She frowned and bit her lip.
“You think I’m just like your dad,” I reminded her.
“Actually,” she said, her eyes searching my face, “I think I’m finally seeing that you’re not like him at all. You care, Zane. You care about me, a lot.”
“No shit.”
“I mean, you really care. You care how I feel about things. You care if they forget to bring the honey for my coffee at breakfast, and you care if you’re going onstage and I haven’t come by to see you yet, and you care if my dad is an asshole to me.”
“Yeah, well. You hate it when you have to use those little sweetener packets instead.”
“You care,” she said, her eyes soft as she gazed up at me, “about all the stupid little things, and the big things, too.”
“Yeah.”
She smiled at me a little, and I got lost in her gray eyes for a long moment. I wanted to kiss her, but it didn’t feel right.
Not until I knew she was happy, and she wasn’t hung up on this Dizzy shit anymore.
“Hey,” I said, clearing my throat, “you remember that time the airline lost your luggage? It was like the first flight we ever took together, the first year you were with Dirty? I was pretty fresh back from rehab, so I was the only one not out at the bar. I saw you talking to the airline on your phone in the lobby of our hotel and trying not to lose your shit. You were so frazzled. It was late, and you were wearing a little dress and high heels that you’d flown in. I figured you’d want something comfortable to change into, so I swung by your room a little later with one of my T-shirts and
a pair of sweats. You invited me in, and then you went into the bathroom to change, and when you came back out you looked so fucking adorable in my big T-shirt. You had my sweats all rolled up at the waist. You were swimming in my clothes. I had no idea what I was gonna wear to the gym in the morning. All I knew was I needed you in my clothes that night. You looked so fucking sexy—and so grateful, by the way—and I didn’t even try to get in your pants. That’s how much I care, Maggie.”
“Wow,” she whispered. “Such a gentleman.” I wasn’t even totally sure if she was being sarcastic or not.
“I know.”
Then she leaned in and kissed me, her lips just barely brushing mine. It was a sweet, soft kiss that made my toes fucking curl. My dick snapped to attention and my nipples hardened, too, the piercing in the left one pulling at my shirt a bit.
She’d been gone for most of the day today. It was a matter of hours, but fuck, I’d missed her. And when she was here… we’d pretty much been fighting.
This was a hell of a lot better.
She smelled good, too. So good…
“Think I fell in love with you that night,” I whispered against her lips.
She pulled back a bit and looked up into my eyes, like she wanted to know for sure if that was true.
It was.
“I mean… that was the first time.”
Full truth was, I’d fallen in love with Maggie Omura many, many times. By now, it was pretty much a daily occurrence.
“You tried to get in my pants long before that,” she pointed out.
“Yeah. I thought about you from the first moment we met. But that night… we watched TV in your hotel room together, remember?”
“I Dream of Jeannie,” she said. “I remember. It was on some random channel…”
“You told me you wanted to marry the astronaut guy, and I actually felt jealous. That’s when I knew. I was jealous of a fictional character who had your heart. I kept looking at you all snuggled up in my clothes at the other end of the couch, and I knew… I was so totally fucked.”
“Shit, Zane. Why did you have to go and tell me all that? I actually feel bad for you now.”
“It gets worse. When the show ended, you kicked me out.”
Dirty Like Zane: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 6) Page 28
