Lies and Lullabies

by Sarina Bowen

  “Look,” Ethan said. “Someone has to watch Nixon, but that someone is me. If you stay at this party, then I have to look out for both of you fools. I’ll have to keep him from self-destructing, and save you from your broody self. Do me a favor and get the fuck out of here. I might get laid tonight if it doesn’t all go sideways.”

  “Wait.” I laughed. “You want me to go home, so you can hook up?”

  Ethan gave me a little shove toward the venue gates. “There are a hundred good reasons for you to go back to the hotel right now. I’m just sharing the highlights. Can I tell this driver that you’re on your way? Pretty please?”

  “Fine.”

  Ethan took out his phone and tapped the screen.

  I scanned the party, trying to see it through Kira’s eyes. Nixon had already locked onto a couple of fans. The three of them stood, beers in hand, getting to know each other a little better before they all got stoned and naked, probably in that order.

  Then there were the roadies carrying equipment to the trucks. They had no hope of getting either beers or girls until all the work of breaking down the show was done. Against one wall, Kira’s brother Adam stood listening as one of the guitar techs told a story, gesturing madly with his hands while Adam grinned.

  “Let’s roll,” Ethan said, pocketing his phone.

  He pointed to a car, and the two of us jogged toward freedom. Security staff began moving the fans aside, making way for us. “Jonas! Jonas!” the women screamed. “Over here, baby!”

  When I was younger, I used to shake hands and sign autographs with the fans on the other side of those ropes. But I’d learned interacting only fed the beast. The types who rushed the security ropes after a show could be pretty fucking scary, thrusting things at me to sign, grabbing my T-shirt, trying to yank me over the rope.

  The moment the car door opened, I launched through the parted clot of outstretched arms and dove into the sedan. Ethan slammed the door behind me, and the driver hit the locks. Then the car began inching forward, nudging through the crowd that formed around the darkened windows.

  This was why we’d sent Kira ahead, alone. If she got a look at this, she’d take her daughter and run like hell.

  It took ten minutes to thread through the crowd, and then only two minutes to drive to the hotel. The driver brought me to the service entrance, and I slipped into a maintenance elevator without incident. I put my key card into the slot granting me access to the club level, and seconds later I was standing outside my door, letting myself in.

  I tiptoed inside, wondering if Kira was still here. The lights were low, and the door to the double bedroom was still open, so I crept around, slipping my gym bag to the floor before poking my head into Kira’s room. She lay on the bed fully dressed, next to Vivi’s short little form. Even as I sneaked across the room toward them, Kira put a finger to her lips.

  I stopped beside the bed. Vivi’s satin eyelids were shut tight. In one arm she clutched a purple kitty—the same stuffed animal I’d won at the fair all those years ago. It was smaller than I remembered, and it had not aged well. Some of the fur had been rubbed off its head.

  I couldn’t have looked away to save my life. And it was impossible to say which of the two girls on the bed was responsible for the lump in my throat—the beautiful child asleep on her pillow, or the gentle eyes of her young mother looking up at me.

  How many times had I returned to a hotel room after a show? Three hundred times? Five hundred? Never had anyone of any importance ever been waiting for me. Not once. I had never allowed myself to imagine how this would feel—finishing up a grueling performance (they were all grueling) and finding a family waiting.

  I pushed that thought aside. “Kira,” I whispered, bending down next to her ear. “I’m going to shower, because I am disgusting. But I was hoping you’d have a drink with me.” I pointed towards the living room.

  She nodded, and my heart gave an optimistic tug. I made myself turn around and walk back to my room, closing the door as quietly as humanly possible.

  Alone in the marble shower stall, I tried not to think how badly I wanted to remove all of Kira’s clothing and spread her out on the king-sized bed.

  But I knew better than to expect her to feel the same. Just because I’d basically told fifteen thousand people that I still loved Kira didn’t mean she wanted a demonstration of how much.

  I rinsed the soap off my body, turned the shower off, and dried with a big, fluffy towel. Then I pulled on some jeans, but no shirt. After a summer concert under thousands of watts of lighting, it always took hours to stop perspiring.

  There was no sign of Kira in the darkened living room. So I grabbed my dinner plate out of the refrigerator and put it in the spotless microwave oven. I was leaning against the counter, drinking a quart of water and wolfing down reheated chicken and potatoes when she emerged from the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.

  “Hi,” she said quietly.

  “Hi, yourself.” I set down my empty plate as Kira made her way over to me. “So. What did you think of the whole circus?”

  She shoved her hands in her pockets. “Where to start?”

  “That bad, huh?” I opened the fridge and pulled out two beers.

  “No, it was amazing. But—Jonas—it’s weird to be you. All those women screaming your name.”

  “Some of the men, too,” I joked. “But that’s just another day at the office for me.”

  She gave me an assessing stare as she accepted the beer. “That’s what you’re going with?”

  “Yes? No? You’re right. It’s super weird. But when I sat down to write my first song at age fourteen, I wasn’t gunning for that. I just wanted to write something pretty. It’s not really my fault that people yell my name. I’m sure it’s skewed my world view, but I can’t tell you how much because I’m trapped here in my own weird existence, where people follow me into the bathroom and it seems normal to spend two grand on a hotel room.”

  “Two grand.” Kira glanced around, looking more horrified than impressed.

  “Hotels force us onto pricey floors for security purposes.”

  “Eesh.” She took a sip of beer. “So tell me—what am I doing here?”

  “Obviously you’re here to validate my fucked-up world view.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Kidding! You’re just here having a beer with me. Like we always did.”

  “Jonas, there was no always. There was just one weird summer, when neither of us was living in the real world.” She took another sip of her beer and regarded me in a way that was almost cool. Now that the shock of seeing me again had worn off, she looked more calm and collected than I’d ever seen her.

  I wasn’t, though. I would never be able to play it cool when she was around. She was the one. And suddenly I felt desperate to let her know that. “Come sit down with me.”

  I flipped off the kitchen lights and crossed the big living space with only the city lights illuminating my path. The darkness was a nice change from the stage. I sat down on the sofa.

  Kira sat down too—about five feet away from me. It was not the encouraging sign I was looking for.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked her. “There’s still food in the fridge. Or we could order something for you.”

  Kira shook her head. “Thanks, I’m fine.”

  I tipped my head toward the door where Vivi lay sleeping. “She sleeps with that purple cat?”

  “She loves Purple Kitty. I don’t know why.” Kira paused a beat. “Actually, I once told her that her daddy gave it to me.”

  Oh, man. That had to mean something. Didn’t it? “You know, that cat has seen better days. Seems like her daddy should spring for a nicer stuffy.”

  At that, Kira finally flashed me a smile. “That’s the funny thing. She has dozens of stuffies. Every one of them is newer and fancier than that one. She says she loves them all, but she keeps coming back to Purple Kitty. I have to trick her into washing it every once in a while.”
<
br />   “Purple Kitty has been through the washer?”

  “Sure. Purple Kitty leads a dangerous life on the front lines. When the tummy bugs happen, Purple Kitty is right there.”

  “Unlucky kitty!” I laughed. “You know, I have a friend who swears that rock and roll is good training for being a parent. Because you already know how to stay up all night, and you’re not afraid of a little puke.”

  “Interesting theory,” Kira murmured, watching me from the other end of the couch. She’d tucked her legs up, putting up even more barriers between us.

  “I’m not saying I know anything about raising kids. But I’m ready to learn. You must have had a hard time, Kira. I can’t imagine how you’ve done everything—taking care of Vivi and going to school, too.”

  She shrugged. “I seem to be on the ten-year plan at school. But every mom of little kids does some juggling. I’ve learned that it’s never easy. I’m just one of the ranks.”

  “But I know it’s held you back. You can’t tell me that you didn’t sacrifice a lot to have her.”

  “Sure. But I get back a lot, too. It sounds counterintuitive, but being a single mom proved to me that I was tougher than I thought. Taking college courses with peanut butter on my T-shirt… It’s not the end of the world. Even without a child, I wasn’t destined to be much of a party girl.”

  “Money must be tight.” It was a topic that needed to be discussed eventually.

  “We get by okay,” she said quickly. “There are single moms at Vivi’s daycare who don’t have enough money to buy their kids an ice cream cone. Honestly, Adam has sacrificed more than I have. Both time and money.”

  Interesting. “He seems really involved.”

  “You have no idea. He’s supported us for four years, although he doesn’t like to hear me put it like that. We live with him, and I pay no rent. Whenever I talk about maybe working full time instead of chipping my way toward graduation, he talks me out of it. He says, ‘We’re doing fine. We don’t need the money, and you need the degree.’ Adam has a good job at a great law firm, so he’s not lying about the money. But he doesn’t have much of a life.”

  “Why?”

  She was quiet for a moment before answering. “I take classes at night, or work as a teaching assistant at the university. So he’s home babysitting. He hasn’t had a boyfriend since Vivi was born, because he won’t bring guys into the house.”

  “How come?”

  “Well… he’s funny that way. He’s totally out of the closet, of course. But my father has always told him that it’s unnatural and has said some things about how wrong it is to raise a child in a gay household. He said, ‘At least Kira didn’t have a little boy.’ I get mad just thinking about it. But it’s as if a little part of Adam believes him.”

  I whistled. “This is your father who calls his son unnatural and his daughter a slut? And Adam listens?”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense. But he’s our dad. He’s gruff and ornery even when he’s trying to be nice. We try not to hear the worst of it, but it’s hard.”

  “You know what, Kira? I just spent the last week asking myself if I’m fit to be somebody’s dad. But I can sure as hell do better than that.” I plucked Kira’s ankles off the sofa, pulling her feet into my lap. “Are you okay? You look tired.”

  “I am tired,” she agreed. “I didn’t sleep all that well this week.”

  “And then I dragged you out to a mediocre concert.”

  She sipped her beer, her big eyes studying me. “The concert was amazing, Jonas. But I don’t know why you’re fishing for compliments. You already have the world’s approval.”

  “Maybe yours matters the most.”

  She stared at me like I wasn’t making sense. “I loved the concert. Do you need a sticker for your sticker chart?”

  A bark of laughter escaped me. “Maybe I do.” She smiled at me, then, and it made me foolishly happy. I put my hands on the arches of her bare feet and squeezed. God, I wanted to touch her. Hold her. I wanted all the things.

  And I only had a few more hours in her presence.

  I put a hand on her bare leg, skimming two fingers from her ankle to her calf. Kira’s eyes snapped downward, watching me. “Look,” I whispered. “It’s only fair to tell you that I want to spend time with you. Not just for Vivi’s sake.” I gave her knee a light caress.

  Kira’s eyes were still locked on my hand where it touched her. “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why? Because I miss you like crazy. And I always have.”

  Kira let out a shaky breath and shook her head. “You can’t say things like that to me.”

  “Why not? It’s true.” I gently shifted her feet to the floor and slid across the sofa until we were hip to hip. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to me. Finally. “That’s better. I’ve been wanting to hold you for, oh, about a million years.”

  Kira shivered, so I did what came naturally. I turned my head, brushing a kiss across her temple. It was barely a kiss, more like a warm breeze on a summer night. Still, I felt her shiver again. I threw caution to the wind and went for it, turning to find her mouth with mine.

  And it was just like that day on the dock. Our mouths came together like this was meant to happen. Like we had no other choice. Warm, soft lips parted for mine.

  The kiss was as soft as I could manage. But I needed her so badly that I was lucky to keep it on the right side of civilized. It didn’t help that her soft hair caressed my shoulders, making me too aware of my bare skin. Making me feel crazy. On a groan, I slanted my mouth across hers, deepening the kiss. And when she let me taste her, it was glorious.

  She was meant to be mine. Nothing would ever convince me otherwise. Pulling her body flush against my own, I kissed her long and hard. The next few minutes were the sweetest victory I’d ever tasted.

  “Wait,” she gasped suddenly, pushing on my shoulders.

  Five years later, the word still penetrated my lusty haze. I pulled back, breathing like a sprinter after the hundred-meter dash.

  “You don’t get to toy with me like this,” she said, leaning away from me. “‘Poor little lonely Kira. We had a hot night once. And she wanted more, but I blew her off. But, hey! We’re in the same zip code for a night, so let’s get it on.’”

  My head swam as I tried to follow this sudden transition. “It’s not like that.”

  “I think it is.”

  “Never,” I breathed. “You mean more to me than anyone else ever will.”

  “How can you say that?” she yelped. “You didn’t sing that tune when you had the chance!” She slid off the couch, scrambling to her feet. I saw a sheen of tears in her eyes as she turned away.

  “Kira,” I ground out.

  But it was too late. She slipped into the darkened double bedroom and closed the door with a firm click.

  I sat there for a minute, trying to calm my pounding heart. I’d fucked up again. Kissing her had been so very stupid. Way to be trustworthy, asshole. It’s just that I wanted Kira to know how I really felt. And even though I’d won a Grammy for writing songs about heartbreak, this time I hadn’t used my words.

  Yup. I blew it.

  I blew out a frustrated breath, stood up, and adjusted my jeans. Heading into my room, I went into the marble bath to brush my teeth.

  Steady, I told my reflection. This wasn’t over. In fact, it was just beginning. Tomorrow, before my tour bus left, I would figure out my next chance to see Kira and Vivi. And I wouldn’t fuck it up again.

  Kira deserved patience. It had been patience that had given me our magical night together. And it had given me Vivi.

  I’d been waiting five years. I could wait five more if I had to.

  Back in my bedroom, I stripped off my jeans, tossing them onto a chair. I got into bed in the nude. Sliding across the expanse of the king-sized bed, my erection brushed against the cool, high-thread-count hotel sheets.

  Heated kisses—and memories—had me all fired up and ready to go. There w
ere, of course, dozens of women at that show tonight who would have happily solved this problem for me. But I didn’t want any of those women. I wanted Kira. Alone in the giant bed, I flexed my hips a single time to acknowledge the yearning. Wanting her felt right and necessary.

  I jammed the pillow into the hollow of my neck and made myself as comfortable as I could. Patience would be me new mantra. It would have to be.

  Sixteen

  Kira

  In the silent, darkened room, I perched on the edge of the empty bed, trying to figure out what had just happened. Not that it was tricky.

  I panicked. And then I blamed it on Jonas.

  So I made everything awkward. Yay.

  There were plenty of good reasons not to make out with Jonas on the sofa. He and I were in the midst of legally negotiating his relationship with Vivi. That was no simple matter. I needed to keep a clear head.

  But who was I kidding? There was no keeping a clear head when he was around. Every encounter with him since the first one had left me quivering with desire and uncertainty. Why would tonight be any different?

  I liked to think that I’d changed since that summer when we met. I was more confident now. I’d come a long way from that tentative girl who needed a man to walk her home every night. I was close to finishing my college degree. I held down a job. I was a terrific cook and a single mom.

  There was one big gap in my confidence, however, and that gap was sex. Physical intimacy was still mysterious to me.

  When Jonas kissed me, my response had been so swift and thrilling that I freaked right out. Not like before—I wasn’t afraid for my safety tonight. But boy, had I been overwhelmed.

  And now I was just embarrassed.

  I pulled out my phone to check the time. It was ten thirty. I was too wired to go to sleep yet, so I texted my brother. Was it a good party?

  I soon got an answer. Yeah. Still ongoing.

  Now that was a surprise. It was so unlike Adam to go out drinking with strangers. I tapped out a hasty reply. Who is this and what have you done with Adam?

  Very funny. Are you OK?