Still Her (Turn it Up Book 2)

by Natalie Parker

  “Now! Shampoo and wet trim!” he barks at one of his minions that is combing out my hangover rats nest. “But don’t you dare blow her out, leave that to me!” He cha-cha’s away to his own little beat, as I’m led away to get my hair washed.

  Once my hair has been washed and trimmed, Enrique sashays back over to my chair, right on time. He works around me as he blows out my hair, back-combs, teases, fluffs and God knows what else as he regales me of what a fan he is of Turn it Up, and how badly he wants five minutes alone with Matt.

  “He’s just so strong, silent, and complex. He’s a mystery I want to get to the bottom of.” He shakes his head dreamily. “There. Done. Don’t touch it. It’s perfect.”

  All that primping just to look like I rolled out of bed and mussed it up. He claps his hands and a make-up artist hustles over and immediately gets to work on my face, putting on about a pound of product, and adding about a mile to the length of my lashes. Though I’ll admit, I look smoke-show glam when I’m done.

  “Waaardroooobe!” Enrique sings out like he’s Oprah, as he takes my hand and pulls me out of the chair and leads me over to a rack of pre-selected outfits, frantically leafing through them as he mutters ‘no, no, no’ with an occasional disgusted noise thrown in here and there. “Bingo!” he shouts when he finds what he wants and yanks it off the rack. His energy has no end, I swear. I’m afraid to imagine what must happen when he goes home and has nothing to do. But he’s fun, and I’m enjoying his personality.

  About ten minutes later, I wander out in a black sundress with spaghetti straps and a black bra underneath showing its straps. There are microscopic white leaves printed against the black of the dress, so tiny they almost look like dots, and the look is completed with ankle high black motorcycle boots. Cute little badass as Enrique dubbed the look. I gaze around the inside of the McMansion, looking for Jack, or at least someone who will instruct me what to do next.

  “Wow,” Eli says approvingly, as he sidles up beside me, approaching from behind. I startle and look up at him.

  “Oh, hey,” I say, keeping it friendly. I bring my hands up and hold them together in front of me. He’s close enough for me to smell that atrocious cologne of his and he’s still looking down at me by his side. I can’t gauge his expression as I’m forcing myself not to look back at him and can only see him in my peripheral. I finally can’t take the awkward silence.

  “Have you seen Jack?” I ask and look up to address him, just in time to see a deep, mystical look leave his eyes as he quickly sobers his expression.

  “Um, no, not in a while,” he clears his throat. “I’m sure he’ll be out soon though. Just wait until he sees you…” The look comes back, sliding into place. I’m not sure if he means for me to see it. His eyes dart up and down ever so quickly before he masks his face with a casual friendliness. “Glad to see the kitten come out to play.”

  What the fuck does that mean? My mind freezes up and my body automatically looks away from him and faces forward. What the hell did he mean by that? I grip my hands together as I fix my stare to the backyard view out the glass door that hasn’t been shut all the way. I tell my lungs to pull in oxygen and let it out a few times before they seem to remember how to do it on their own again. I try to reason with myself. Eli is a hound. He’s an insatiable horn-ball that gets turned on by a shift in the wind, and right now, I’m just another chick in a skirt. It’s not personal. Inappropriate? Hell yes. But not personal. He has a problem that has nothing to do with me.

  “I’m going to go look for Jack,” I say in dismissal of this whole interaction and start to walk away. But as I do, I catch his reflection in the glass door. That look is on his face as he watches me walk away; the one that gives me the creeps. It’s lustful and predatory. My insides go cold and I try to keep down the bile that’s rising up in my throat as I make my way out into the backyard, willing the sun to push this dark feeling away.

  6

  Jack

  Something’s wrong with Mayzie. I can see it from across the yard where I’m perched on this nice Harley while photographers and their crew are all milling around me. A stylist has put me in black jeans with chains dangling off one pocket, black motorcycle boots and a stonewashed gray t-shirt. They’ve added a black leather cuff around my wrist and a pair of aviators that I grab off my face to get a better look at my girl as she approaches, nodding to the journalist that’s walking and talking beside her. The journalist motions in my direction and Maze looks up at me, quiet relief sweeping over her face. She finishes the walk towards me alone.

  She looks knock-down, drag-out sexy and beautiful. Still doesn’t hold a candle to that post love-making look I love, but I do feel my heart contract in my chest at the sight. Something’s missing though. Her ever-present smile is absent and she looks troubled and pensive. Her gray eyes stand out with her thick, black eyelashes, but they are lacking their usual sparkle. As she gets closer, the corners of her mouth finally turn up, but only a little. I take her in my arms in a hug as I rest back on the bike. She rests her face on my shoulder, her eyes downcast. I hear camera clicks go off at rapid-fire. I didn’t think the shoot had even started yet, but maybe they’re just trying to get every intimate shot they can. I whisper lightly in Mayzie’s ear, very quietly so that none of them can hear.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I think I’m just not feeling good from last night,” she whispers back.

  “Bullshit,” I whisper. Her blinding smile was perfectly intact when we first got here. She feels fine. “Something’s wrong baby and I want you to tell me what it is.”

  “Okay,” she agrees, very quietly. “Let’s get this done with first though.”

  I give her a gentle nod, and that’s the moment the photographers stop clicking. Seemingly satisfied with the 200 snapshots they got of that pose, they start directing us to sit on the bike with Mayzie behind me, and tell me to put the aviators back on. I’m not sure what they’re going for here, some kind of rock rebel snatches up a badass cutie, maybe. Doesn’t matter. Could be worse, and I’m sure it will look great. They have Mayzie put her feet up on the pegs and lean into me, resting her face against my back. Her warm body feels good against me, but I swear, she feels stiff.

  I glance around, and catch a glimpse of Eli inside the living area of his house. He’s talking to a tall blonde who’s wearing a skintight dress. She looks upset, a dejected look on her face as she talks to him, shaking her head. I can’t hear what they’re saying but Eli shakes his head and shrugs, before reaching in his pocket and handing her a card. He shrugs again and puts his hands in his pockets, seemingly dismissing her, as he turns back towards watching the shoot. That whole interaction was seriously gross to witness, and I think I’m beginning to see what Mayzie sees.

  The voice of the photographer breaks through my thoughts, instructing me to turn around and face Mayzie on the bike. By now, she looks a little more relaxed, and gives me a pretty closed-mouth smile that I can’t help but return as the cameras continue to snap away. Without being told, I lean in and give her a little peck on the lips and when I lean back, I see a little bit of the glow has come back to her cheeks.

  When the shooting wraps, we give a quick fifteen-minute interview where we answer some surface-level questions about how our respective careers fit in with each other, our dynamic on the road and whatnot. Mayzie and I keep it light and fun, and before we know it, it’s time for us to get going so that I can make it back in time for sound check.

  Once we’ve changed back into our own clothes, we head out to the waiting SUV. We’re held up when Eli calls after us from the steps leading up to his front door. We stop and turn as he jogs up to us. “How did the club opening go last night?”

  “It was good,” I say, nodding. “Not a hitch,” I tell him, wondering if that’s all he’s looking for.

  “Great, great,” he replies. “I’ll let you know if there are any other opportunities in the other cities you’re going to hit.”

&
nbsp; “Sounds good. Thanks Eli,” I say giving his hand one last shake.

  “Bye Mayzie,” he calls after my wife as she opens the back door of the vehicle. She looks up and gives him a tight smile and a curt nod, before climbing in and slamming the door shut.

  MAYZIE

  “I feel so stupid,” I say, sitting cross legged on the bed in black track pants and a white tank top, watching Jack as he buttons up his black shirt.

  “Baby, why?” he challenges, looking between me and the task, “It was inappropriate. He shouldn’t be talking to you like that. I’m his client, and you’re my wife.”

  “You’re right, but looking back on it, was it really so malicious that I had to let it affect me like that? I’m wondering if maybe he was just joking around. He probably says things like that to every woman on the planet. He’s a pathological philanderer,” I hold my hands out as I try to make sense of my encounter with Eli. After the dust settled, I began to feel a little sheepish and wondered if I’d blown his words out of proportion, if maybe I’d overreacted. I mean, I endure comments like that all the time from our friend Tyler back home, who is the perviest flirt you could ever meet, but it’s all in good fun with him and I know that, so I can joke and laugh it off.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Jack surmises, as he combs his hair in a small mirror mounted on the wall. “But calling my wife a kitten? And come out to play with whom exactly?”

  “Maybe he meant you,” I say, waving my hand at him. “And it’s like you said, Tyler’s the same way. He throws comments like that left and right.”

  “Touché. But it’s also like you said; Eli plays a different role in our lives than Tyler. Tyler’s our friend and we know he’s joking.”

  “Well, maybe Eli was too,” I muse, shaking my head at myself. “I think I made a bigger deal of it than it was. More than anything it was that look I caught that got to me.” Jack sits on the bed, turning towards me.

  “That bothers me too, and I want to talk to him about it. Make sure he understands some boundaries.”

  “Jack, I don’t think you should hunt him down and confront him over something like this,” I say, laying a hand on his shoulder so that he gets my seriousness. “The more I think about it, the more it seems trivial, and I don’t want it to cause unnecessary friction between him and the band.”

  He looks down, slightly nodding his head as he considers my words.

  “I mean, I can’t throw a hissy fit and sic you on him, or ask you guys to get a new agent every time one says something or looks at me strange. I don’t want to be that person,” I continue to reason.

  “Alright,” he says quietly, his face wearing a look of reluctant acceptance. “But if it comes up, I’m saying something,” he looks at me solemnly. “And if it keeps happening, you’re going to tell me about it.”

  “Deal,” I nod at him. We typically don’t see Eli much anyway; only at high-profile events. Frankly, I’m surprised to have seen so much of him in the last couple days. The guys are only six months in to their two-year contract with him. It sounds like a long way away, but I can manage myself on the few occasions I’ll likely have to see him during that time frame.

  “I mean it, Mayzie,” he says, getting back up to look for his shoes. “We’re supposed to have a business relationship with this person. It’s not okay for him to be scoping out my wife, looking at her like she’s some kind of snack.” He finally locates them and sits back down on the edge of the bed to put them on.

  Okay, that comment makes me shudder a bit when I think back to Eli’s reflection with his eyelids at half-mast, homing in intently on my ass, an expression of entitlement on his face. I quickly shake it off. Jack stands and slings his duffle over his shoulder. Sandblast, the opening act for Turn it Up is due to take the stage about now, so Jack needs to get to the dressing room to change and do vocal warmups with the rest of the guys. Jack leans back down to kiss me.

  “You going to come out to the show at all tonight?” Jack doesn’t expect me to watch and swoon from backstage every single night of a tour, but it’s only the second night and I want to.

  “Yeah,” I answer with a smile, happy to put the whole Eli thing behind us. “I’ll come out there in a bit. I’m just going to try to crank some stuff out for the blog.”

  “Great, see you soon.” He gives me one more kiss and heads out the door to make his way to the arena’s back tunnel entrance. I reach for my laptop and try to focus on putting the last couple of days’ experiences into words for the blog… and try to push the idea that I’m kidding myself out of my mind.

  “Man, what a sleaze,” Annie acknowledges later that evening over the phone. Her call came just in time. My brain is fried from all the writing and I gladly picked up, eager for the distraction as I close my laptop.

  “Yeah, he really is, but I didn’t need to go all fetal over it. I was a pathetic, jittery mess during that shoot. I think I overreacted.”

  “Mmm… no. I’m with Jack on this one,” she counters. “There is a line, and he crossed it without a doubt.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do now, after the fact?” I ask, throwing my hand up, exasperated.

  “Like Jack said, you keep your guard up and don’t allow it to continue. It’s not okay, Mayzie. He does it again, you stand your ground and let him know you’re not taking that shit. And if you run into trouble with that, don’t be afraid to let Jack do your dirty work.”

  “Okay, I promise,” I reassure her. “So anyway,” I change the subject. “How are things with you? Do anything fun lately?”

  “Oh… yeah,” she sounds very uncharacteristically hesitant. “I, uh, went out the other night…”

  “Okay…” I’m really perplexed at how aloof she’s being. “Care to elaborate on this?”

  “Oh, sure. It was cool. Went out with some of the girls from Dance It Out and um… ran into someone I haven’t seen in a while. Caught up, it was pretty cool.” She sounds like a teenager who got caught sneaking back into the house in the middle of the night. This is big.

  “Is this someone a guy?”

  There’s a pause before she finally sighs and says, “Yeah…”

  “Ooh, tell me more, Sandy!” I tease her with Grease reference. “Who is it? Do I know him? Are you going to see him again? Do you loooove him?”

  “Enough, you little asshole!” she fumes on the other end. Bingo. I hit a nerve.

  “Come on, we have to maintain our best friendship. We have to communicate. I told you about Jack’s horny, skeezy agent. Tell me about who you ran into!” I nag, as Penny hops up on the bed, turns in a circle and flops down.

  Annie let’s out a sigh. “Tyler.” Her one word response comes out in a tiny squeak.

  “I’m sorry, could you speak up a bit? Because it sounded like you just said Tyler.”

  “I did say Tyler! We went to The Cedar. It’s recently been renovated and the girls all wanted to check it out. I didn’t think he’d still be working there.” The Cedar is a bar in midtown that Jack worked at when I first met him. He and Tyler were both bartenders there, which is how their friendship began. Tyler and Annie occasionally flirted, but it never went anywhere. Back then.

  “Oh, yeah. He’s actually the manager now,” I inform her. “He practically runs the place. He and the owner just put that place through a full overhaul.”

  “Oh? You don’t say?” She asks, her voice thick with sarcasm. “That would’ve been nice to know before I set foot in there. Anyway, long story short: we shared some small talk, he asked me to take photos of the place all re-done so they could update the website, and well… I hadn’t had my bell rung in a while…” she trails off, leaving me to put the puzzle pieces together.

  “Aww. I’m happy for you.”

  “Don’t be. It was a one-time thing.”

  “I’m still happy for you. I’m glad you got some good sex. I mean it was good, right?”

  “It was alright.”

  She’s lying.

  “You’re lying
.”

  “Fine, it was epically mind blowing and I’m going to be feeling it for months to come. Now, moving on…”

  7

  Mayzie

  Over the next two and a half weeks, we dot along the southern edge of the US with an occasional jaunt up to some inland states, hitting the major cities, sometimes staying two or three nights in one, either because the guys have two shows, or just so they can catch their breath. We haven’t heard anything from Eli, and the more time that goes by, the more I’m convinced my vivid imagination ran away with me the day of the shoot.

  And then we get to Houston. It’s a typical evening of the guys out rocking a show in the stadium on the other side of the lot, as I type my ass off on the bus. I’m drafting another blog post, as well as trying to create an outline for another book, and type up some notes for a dance routine that I can teach the next time Top Dancer has me on.

  When I am satisfied with what I have on all fronts, I gently close my laptop and get up to put on some better clothes. I braid the front strands of my hair along the side of my head and pull the rest back in a low knot. Clad in my jeans and black hoodie, I slip my backstage lanyard on and make my way off the bus. When I step off and close the door, I can already hear the booming of the bass drums and the roar of the crowd not too far in the distance. Shane, one of the band’s bodyguards, is standing guard for me, resting with his back against the bus. He straightens up when I step off.

  “Evening, Mrs. Krasinski,” he greets me with his bright white smile that stands out in stark contrast against his dark skin.

  “Mayzie,” I smile back, putting my hands in my hoodie pockets.

  He ducks his head and smiles. “I keep forgetting. Headed to catch the rest of the show?”

  “Yeah, do you mind?”

  “It’s why I’m here,” he says, falling into step with me. It’s not totally dark out, but dark enough, and it’s good to have someone capable escort me through the village of trucks and buses. As we make our way down the backstage corridor, I begin to feel the music thump in my chest, giving me that little bump of adrenaline. Watching the guys go crazy and work up the audience never gets old. I can’t see them yet, but I only have one more corner to turn. When I reach it, I come to a sudden halt. I don’t even mean to. My legs simply stop walking as I stare straight ahead at the open space that offers a side view of the stage. Ron is watching the show with his hands in his jacket pockets as he talks to Eli, who is standing next to him with his arms crossed. What is he doing here?