One More Promise

by Samantha Chase

  Dylan let out a weary sigh. All his good vibes from playing music seemed to fade away. Someone was still concerned about him and what he’d do in a public setting. “It’s all right. I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to have to stand guard and make sure I don’t do anything to make a scene or make a spectacle of myself, right?”

  “Um…sort of. Just…there was some concern about you being in that setting and how it might be…rough for you, that’s all. So it’s not that anyone’s afraid of what you’ll do to embarrass anyone or anything like that. It’s truly concern for your well-being. I swear, Dylan.”

  Well, that wasn’t so bad, he guessed. Still not great—people thinking he still couldn’t control himself yet—but there were worse things in life, he guessed.

  “It’s okay, Paige. Really. It’s not a big deal.” He paused. “So I guess you’re stuck with me as your date,” he said playfully.

  “Date? What? I mean… No. No! It’s not like that. I swear. I don’t expect you to date me! I mean, that would be crazy. Insane! You don’t date women like me…pfft… That’s just… I’m certainly no supermodel or anything so…really… It’s no big deal.”

  Okay. Wow. That was not the reaction he had expected from the normally cool and collected Paige. Should he comment on it?

  She cleared her throat and went completely quiet, and Dylan figured by bringing any more attention to her little…outburst, he’d embarrass her. So he let it go.

  “I appreciate everyone’s concern and I’ll plan on seeing you Saturday night, okay?”

  “Sure,” she replied, sounding relieved.

  “We don’t have anything else planned for this week, do we?”

  “No. It was the photo shoot today. And I want to thank you for all you did.”

  “Me? I don’t think I did anything except smile for the camera.”

  Paige laughed softly. “You were prompt, you brought me lunch, and you kept everyone talking and engaged in between shoots. So thank you. You were a big help.”

  Well, damn. That was probably the first time anyone had ever thanked him for acting…normal. The thought of it made him smile. “I’m glad I could help. And don’t hesitate to ask for help at any of these other…stops. I really don’t mind. I’d rather be useful than just stand around.”

  “I appreciate it, and again, thanks.” She paused. “So…um…I guess that’s it.”

  “I guess so.” Funny, he felt reluctant to end the conversation.

  “Yeah.”

  Hmm… “What are you doing tonight? Anything exciting? Not working late, I hope.”

  She laughed again. “No. Not working. I’m home with my feet up and playing Scrabble on the computer.”

  “Really? People do that?” he teased.

  “Well, I do. You got me thinking about board games today, and since you obviously can’t play them alone, I got on my computer to see what I could find. And you’re right. It’s very relaxing.”

  “Glad I could help. I think there’s virtual chess. You know…if you’re interested.”

  “Really? I’ll have to look that up.”

  Dylan couldn’t help but smile at her excitement. “So you and your grandfather used to play, huh?”

  “All the time. We used to have the best conversations during our games. It was our special time together.” She let out a wistful sigh. “I miss him so much, and even though it’s been, like, fourteen years, I still remember how much those games meant to me.”

  “Like I said earlier, it’s a great memory to have.”

  “Mmm,” she said, and it sounded far sexier than it should have.

  “I should probably go. I’m starving, and I need to find something to eat.”

  “You haven’t had dinner yet?”

  “Nope. I was tuning and playing guitar and lost track of time.” He looked at the clock and saw it was almost eight. Not terribly late, but it seemed like lunch was a lifetime ago.

  “Well…go find something and I’ll see you on Saturday night.”

  “Yeah, okay. Great. I’ll see you then.”

  “Have a good night, Dylan,” she said.

  “You too.”

  * * *

  Three days later, Dylan tossed his jacket on the hotel room bed and sighed.

  He’d done it.

  He’d walked away from the home he’d owned for the past eight years.

  He kept waiting to feel…something. The Realtor had done a final walk-through with him and kept saying things like “I’m sure you’re going to miss this” and “This must be hard for you,” but in truth, he wasn’t and it wasn’t. The house was the last major tie he had to his life prior to rehab.

  There was still the band and Mick, but the house held the most bad memories for him. From this point on, he knew Riley, Matt, Julian, and Mick would be there to encourage him to stay the course. And it felt damn good.

  As he walked around, he noted how it was going to be strange going from living full-time in a 7,500-square-foot house to an 800-square-foot hotel room. Lucky for him, Shaughnessy had spent so much time on the road that hotel living wasn’t going be a total shock. It wasn’t ideal, but it also wasn’t permanent. He’d lucked out in scoring one of the recently refurbished suites. It was modern with a hint of vintage glamor, which he found he liked.

  The furniture was oak and had touches of mohair and leather, and the room offered an amazing view of LA. He moved from the living room into the bedroom and knew he’d made the right choice. A standard room would have been fine, but with the two-room setup, he would have plenty of space to relax. He ran a hand over the king-size bed and smiled. The rest of the furnishings were nice to look at, and he was sure they were comfortable, but his main requirement had been a king-size bed. He enjoyed sprawling out, and should he decide to invite someone up to join him for the night, he knew they’d appreciate the extra space.

  Paige’s face immediately came to mind, and he cursed himself. Maybe he needed to find someone to hook up with—and soon. He had to stop envisioning Paige in these scenarios because that wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. And the sooner he distracted himself from that fantasy, the better.

  He kept on moving and checked out the luxurious marble bathroom. There was a shower and a Jacuzzi.

  And there were images of Paige naked in both of them.

  “Dammit,” he hissed.

  Yeah, he definitely needed to find a distraction because this was starting to get out of hand. Hopefully at the cocktail party tomorrow night, he’d be able to find someone he was attracted to and could get over this drought he was in. Memories of his last failed attempt at getting laid played in his mind, and more than anything, it pissed him off.

  “I used to be able to have sex with little more than the crook of a finger,” he murmured as he walked out of the bathroom. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”

  Speaking of hard… Yeah. The image of Paige in the shower was instantly replaced with the image of her in his bed. Walking quickly, he went out to the living room, where it wasn’t hard to imagine her bent over the sofa.

  His cell phone rang and he reached for it like a lifeline. “Hello!”

  “Hey, buddy! You sound a little frantic. You okay?”

  It was Riley. Thank God. If ever there was someone to put him on level ground, it was Riley Shaughnessy. Sitting down on the sofa, Dylan kicked off his shoes and relaxed. “I’m good. I’m good. The phone startled me. I moved into the Beverly today and was checking the room out.”

  “Right. Mick told me you were doing that. You know you could have come and stayed with us, Dylan. We have a guest room. The door’s always open here.”

  “And I appreciate it, but I know you and Savannah are busy with your own things and your daughter. Also, I figured Savannah might not appreciate another kid under her roof.”

  Riley laughed. �
�Maybe. But I want you to know if you get tired of hotel living, you’re more than welcome here.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Really. So what’s going on?”

  “Not much. I got your message the other day and finally had some time to sit down and call you. How’s the community-service gig going?”

  Dylan told him all about what he’d been up to and about the party tomorrow night.

  “Cocktail party, huh?” Riley asked. “You sure you’re ready for that?”

  If anyone else had asked, Dylan probably would have been offended. But Riley knew him almost better than anyone else. “In my mind I am,” he answered honestly. “But I’m never going to know until I try. The good thing is it’s right here in the hotel, so if I’m uncomfortable, I can leave and go to my suite. And Paige knows my situation, so she won’t be put-off if I bail in the middle of it.”

  “So you’re dating the campaign chick? Do you think that’s smart?”

  He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not dating Paige. She’s sort of been assigned to keep an eye on me so I don’t screw up anything. Apparently my reputation has some people nervous. So she’s more like…a handler.”

  “Ah. So…nothing’s going on between the two of you?”

  “Why do people keep asking me that?”

  Riley laughed. “Because it’s what you used to do! You dated our wardrobe chick, the PR chick, the intern from Mick’s office—”

  “Thank God he never found out about that,” Dylan said.

  “Please. Of course he found out about it. Why do you think we were suddenly doing those pop-up shows in the Midwest?”

  Dylan sat straight up. “Are you kidding me? That’s why we were sent out on that damn tour?”

  Riley laughed harder. “Man, you seriously didn’t know? We all wanted to kick your ass for getting us into that!”

  “I had no frigging idea. I really thought Mick didn’t know!”

  “That girl was something like his best friend’s daughter, dude! You’re lucky he didn’t string you up by the balls for it.”

  Dylan groaned. “It was only a couple of hookups.”

  “It was enough for him to find out and for her to start blabbing how you were dating.”

  “I don’t even remember her name,” he murmured. “How crappy is that?”

  “Very, but in your defense, it was at a time when you were partying particularly hard.”

  He sighed. “Why didn’t anyone stop me? Why didn’t anyone smack me in the head and tell me what a mess I was making of my life?”

  Riley was quiet for a moment. “We all tried, Dylan. At one time or another, we all tried. You didn’t want to listen. There were times when the three of us and Mick would sit and talk about forcing you into rehab or at least doing an intervention, but…” He paused and sighed. “We should have. You have no idea how much it killed me to know that if we had stepped in sooner, things could have been different. You still would have gone to rehab, but you would have been spared the accident and the charges that went with it.”

  “Believe me, I wish I could have avoided that too, but it had to happen. I think that was what it took to make me open my eyes. I am thankful every day I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “We all are.”

  “You know what the hardest part of all this is?” he asked, going somber.

  “What?”

  “I made such an ass of myself that I’ve got this reputation now. No one’s going to let me forget how I was this party boy douchebag. People look at me differently. I need a handler so I don’t make a scene places. I hate it. I deserve it, don’t get me wrong, but I hate it.”

  “It’s going to get better over time, Dylan. This is all so…new. And you’re just now going out and interacting with people again in public. You have to expect a certain amount of hesitation from them. Everyone’s waiting to see if you changed. So this is your chance to prove them wrong. Show them you’ve changed, that you’re not going to make a scene—you’re not that party boy douchebag anymore. Once they see you’ve reformed, they’ll move on. If you ask me, this campaign was perfect timing for you.”

  “I don’t know about that, but it’s certainly not as bad as I thought it would be.”

  “Well, that’s something at least.”

  “I guess.” Dylan realized Riley was right. This cocktail party was the perfect opportunity for him to prove how much he had changed. And if it all went well, he wouldn’t need a handler the next time around. He wouldn’t need Paige to…

  Damn. Next time, there’d be no excuse for her to act as his date.

  Something to think about at a later time.

  Shaking his head to clear it, he put his feet up on the coffee table and said, “So I talked to Matt the other day, and we’re thinking of getting together the middle of next month and jamming. He said he’d fly over, and he thinks Julian might be up for it too. Nothing official, just the four of us hanging out and playing music for fun, like the old days. You in?”

  “Are you kidding me? I’ve been praying for this to happen!”

  “Why haven’t you said anything?”

  “I was waiting for you to be ready,” Riley replied. “I didn’t want to push, and I knew you had other things to deal with and didn’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

  “I appreciate that. I picked up a guitar for the first time a few days ago.”

  “Really? You haven’t played?”

  “Uh-uh. Not since before the accident.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know. It was sort of my own form of penance. I didn’t think I deserved to play.”

  “Wow… I don’t know what to say.”

  Dylan shrugged even though Riley couldn’t see him. “But I have to say, once I picked up a guitar and started playing?”

  “It was pretty damn great, right? When I was struggling with the songs for my album, I avoided playing—especially when Savannah and I first met and she was interviewing me. Then one day, she handed the guitar to me and demanded that I play. Once I started? Oh…man…it was such an incredible rush.”

  “Yes!” Dylan cried. “It was. I played for two hours straight, and after that, I started tuning each guitar up one at a time.”

  “How many do you have now?” Riley asked with a chuckle.

  “About twenty-five.”

  Riley let out a low whistle. “Where are they? You can’t possible have them all with you at the Beverly.”

  “No. Most of them are in storage. I picked four of them and brought them with me. Although, it’s not like I can’t get to the others if I wanted them. These four just happen to be favorites, and I think they’ll work fine to keep me going for a while. I can’t believe how much I missed it.”

  “It feels great to do it again, I’m sure. And now you’ll be in good shape when we all get together in a few weeks.”

  “I can’t wait. You have no idea. I feel like I’m finally ready to engage in life again.”

  “We missed you, buddy. Really. And you’re doing okay? Feeling good?” Riley asked.

  “I am. I’ll admit I’m a little freaked out about this party tomorrow night. I wasn’t at first, but once other people started voicing their concerns, it got me thinking. What if I’m not ready? What if people tell me I can handle one drink and I believe them?”

  “Damn. I have no idea, Dylan. I wish I did. Only you know your limits, but I would imagine you’re not supposed to drink at all. Am I right?”

  “Yup. My counselor told me there might come a time when I can handle being in social situations without being tempted but…I don’t know. I don’t think I’m there yet.”

  “So maybe this isn’t a great idea for you to go.”

  “No. I have to. I’m going to have to take that first step eventually. And I think Paige is the perfect person to have with me
to keep me in line.”

  Riley laughed softly. “So…Paige. Why? What’s she like?”

  Dylan didn’t even have to think about it. His mind instantly knew what to say. “She’s amazing—she’s serious and hardworking. She’s no-nonsense and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She knows all about me, and she was brutally honest about not liking me when we first met.”

  “And now?”

  “Now? Now I think we’re becoming friends. She works too hard, and I’m trying to get her to relax, and she’s been keeping me in line.”

  “Have you needed to be kept in line?” Riley teased.

  “Nah…but it’s cute how she thinks she has to hover sometimes. And we haven’t done a whole lot yet. But I catch her doing it—hovering, watching me, like she’s afraid I’m going to whip out a bottle of vodka and start jumping on the furniture or something.”

  Riley laughed out loud. “She sounds like exactly what you need.”

  “Yeah…she is,” Dylan said wistfully, and immediately an image of her leaning over him came to mind—leaning over him and wanting to kiss him. That was a favorite image. She’d be a little bossy—he bet she liked being in control in the bedroom too—and he’d gladly let her if given a chance.

  “Oh…no,” Riley whined.

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  “You’re going to sleep with her, aren’t you?”

  “No! Dammit, Riley. I already told you I’m not.”

  “Yeah, but I can hear it in your voice. You’re thinking about it.”

  Why deny it? “Okay, fine. I’m thinking about it, but I’m not going to act on it. I know how important it is not to screw up right now or give the press anything to worry about—or our PR people.”

  “And how do you plan on doing that? If the two of you are working together for the next month or so, how are you going to keep from letting that happen? No offense, but you don’t have the best history in this particular category.”

  “Hey! I know I used to be that way, but I’m more in control now! And the way I plan on dealing with it is finding…someone else to distract me. God! I hate saying it like that because it still makes me sound like a jerk.”