The bedroom was just as spare but they had all they needed.
~
"I can't believe you're tossing me out," Conor said with a bemused smile.
He sat on Colette’s sofa, watching as she transferred the contents of one purse into another that would better match the short black floral patterned dress she wore with black suede high heeled boots that came up to her knees. She had given him an hour of electric lovemaking before looking at the clock and telling him she had to go meet her "friend" for shopping. It was quite a change to have a woman use him for sex without wanting anything more.
"Oh, come on, Conor. I told you I had plans this afternoon," she said with distraction.
"Can't you cancel? I mean, I'm just here from Ireland, for fuck’s sake."
"But I didn't ask you to come. You planned this all by yourself," she said.
"Colette, I didn't plan anything. I'm here to see Shay."
"So, go see him. I really have to get going now."
Conor glanced down at the coffee table and noticed for the first time a Cosmopolitan magazine with Sophie on the cover. Without thinking, he picked it up and studied the sexy photo. She wore a low-cut red dress and her hair was down and full of body as an unseen fan blew it back. Her hazel eyes were focused on the camera, conveying a compelling mixture of playfulness and sensuality. He was reminded of all the times he had stared into those eyes, desiring her body and soul. She had long ago become the ideal woman in his mind. Unattainable but perfect.
"Well?"
The sound of Colette's impatient voice pulled him from his brief reverie. "Hmm?"
"You're going to make me late. Time to go."
Standing up, he glanced at the cover one more time. "You're a cool one, aren't you?" he asked.
"What? Are you in love with me or something, Connie?" she asked.
Conor met her eyes and said flatly, "No." He paused. “And don’t call me ‘Connie.’ I fucking hate it.”
"Okay, fine. Look, we have fun together. Just now, that was fun, right?" she asked but didn't wait for him to respond. "But that's all it was. So, I have to go now because I have a date."
"Oh, it's a date, is it?"
"So what if it is?"
He was being sucked into her games. Pursuing a woman was fun, a challenge. But this was something different, this was pure game-playing for its own sake. She had slept with him knowing full well she was shortly to meet with another man, and that didn't sit well with him.
"Have a good time, honey," he said with resignation and picked up his bag.
"That's it?" she asked.
"What do you want me to say?" he asked, suddenly weary.
"It sounded like you were about to walk out and I'd never see you again."
"Would that bother you?”
She met his eyes for a moment before dropping her gaze to the magazine he still held in one hand. She took it from him and looked at the cover of Sophie.
“Who is the unavailable woman you’re in love with?” she asked.
“What? What has that to do with anything?” he asked, thrown by the topic.
“I . . . I don’t know at this point.”
“Colette, tell me if you have any interest in seeing me. That’s all I want from you. I’ll chase you. Just don’t run too hard. Okay?”
She tossed the magazine, face down, on the coffee table and returned his smile. Placing her arms around his neck, she kissed him long and sweetly on the mouth.
“Call me tomorrow,” she said softly.
~
Left to his own devices for the rest of the day, Conor finally made good on all of his talk and got in touch with Shay. His friend sounded stressed and hurriedly gave Conor directions to the recording studio where he was working.
It was something of a surprise for Conor to walk into the studio and see Shay in such a position of authority as he gave orders to the sound engineers at the mixing board.
“Aye, Shay,” Conor said. “Aren’t you the man?”
Shay was startled by the intrusion but quickly smiled. “Good to see a friendly face, mate,” he said.
“I thought you were almost done with this project.”
Conor put down his bag and took the chair beside Shay, leaning back and stretching.
“There are a few things I’m still working on. There’s a bit where I’d love to have some acoustic guitar but I can’t seem to communicate to the session musicians exactly what it is I want.”
“You want me to play with it?”
“You’re a lifesaver!” Shay said.
Conor watched as Shay got up and retrieved a guitar. Though he was energized by the work he was doing, Conor could tell that Shay was exhausted underneath it all. His perfectionist tendencies had clearly left him with little sleep.
“Jesus, man, you need to get laid,” Conor told him.
“Don’t I know it,” Shay replied with a laugh.
~
Working together, Conor and Shay composed a delicate, Spanish-infused acoustic guitar melody that was perfect for the love scene in the movie. It was after nine that evening when they stepped out of the studio and thought about food and relaxation.
And it wasn’t until they were seated in a nearby sushi restaurant that Shay thought to ask what Conor was doing in New York.
“Thought you’d get curious at some point,” Conor said with a laugh.
“You can see how wrapped up in this project I’ve been.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
The waitress appeared then and lingered at their table as she poured Ichiban beer from large bottles into frosty glasses.
“How are you today, then?” Conor asked her.
She was petite, with a mixture of African American and Asian heritage. Her hair was slicked back, showcasing beautiful mocha skin and ebony eyes. Her form fitting, high-collared black dress was long but had a dramatic slit up both sides to reveal smooth, shapely legs.
“Good, thanks. Can I make any recommendations?” she asked, clearly not recognizing them.
“Sure. What’s the best way for my friend here to get to take you out for a drink later tonight?” Conor asked casually.
The waitress glanced at Shay, saw his embarrassment and smiled. “He could ask himself,” she replied. “I’ll give you a minute with the menu and be right back.”
“Conor Quinn, you bastard,” Shay said mildly.
“Well, she’s a good looking girl. Why not?”
“What about you, then?”
“Me? Me, I’m in trouble. I’ve only got one girl on my mind these days and that’s why I’m here in New York.”
“The model you were in all the papers with?”
“That’d be the one.”
“Rock stars and models—what a fucking cliché.”
Conor and Shay laughed and then made a toast to the lovely absurdity of it.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The morning sun was warm on Conor’s face as he leaned against Colette’s front door, his eyes closed behind his dark sunglasses. It was just after nine and he had been waiting on her front steps for ten minutes, having gotten no response to his phone calls and knocks on her door. He didn’t know how long he would wait or what he expected from dropping by like this, but he was content to sunbathe for the moment.
“Conor?”
He opened his eyes to find Colette standing before him, a paper cup of coffee and a small brown bag in her hand. There were two things he noticed with pleasure: she was bringing home coffee for one, and she wore jeans and a threadbare tee shirt, meaning she had changed clothes and wasn’t doing some sort of walk of shame from having stayed overnight at another man’s place.
“Morning, honey,” he said as he stood up. He tried to kiss her on the lips but she turned her cheek to him, though he caught a hint of a pleased smile crossing her lips before she covered it.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He didn’t usually come on this strong to women, but there was somet
hing about Colette that made him want to push forward, to make this into something. If he had given it real thought, he’d realize her tactic of playing hard to get was a winning one. He had rarely had to pursue the women he dated, was, in fact, accustomed to his attentions being both readily received and returned. Being the gorgeous guitar player in a world famous band had long had its perks, after all.
“Thought I’d take you to breakfast, but I see you’re not in the mood,” he said with a smile.
She sighed and shook her head as she unlocked the door. “Come in,” she said and he followed her inside.
“Don’t worry, I won’t make myself comfortable.”
She eyed him for a moment. “Come here,” she said softly, crooking her finger at him.
He smiled and eagerly complied, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him.
After a quick kiss, she said, “If you’re going to hang around, you might as well make yourself useful.”
“I’d love to,” he responded and kissed her full on the mouth.
“Not that,” she said with a laugh. “I was thinking you could make us breakfast.”
“Sure thing . . . after.” He kissed her again and she soon dropped any pretense of putting him off as she anxiously pressed her body to his.
Just then his cell phone rang and he automatically plucked it from his pocket to check the caller ID. It was Gavin. He hadn’t spoken to him in almost three weeks, a rarity. But he figured a day or two longer wouldn’t hurt and let the call go to voicemail.
~
Breakfast was long forgotten as they spent the morning in bed, trading control over each other’s bodies. A few hours later, they were lying naked on top of the sheets, lazily chatting when his cell phone rang again.
“Let me see who it is,” he said as he reached over her to grab his phone.
The readout said it was James and as Colette trailed her fingertips over his chest and down his abdomen, he again let it go to voicemail. But within a few minutes the phone rang again.
“Fuck’s sake,” he groaned.
“Ignore it,” Colette said, kissing his neck.
This time it was Shay. And now Conor began to worry. He answered the call.
“What’s up, Shay?”
“Turn on the tele. Wherever you are, find a tele and watch MTV or CNN,” Shay said quickly.
“Tell me what the fuck it is,” Conor said as he gestured to Colette to turn on the television.
Her expression quickly changed to one of concern and she scrambled to turn on the TV before handing him the remote control.
“Gavin’s talking to the press about his mother,” Shay said.
The screen came to life, showing the surreal vision of Gavin standing in front of his home and surrounded by a dozen photographers and journalists.
“Fuck me,” Conor said softly.
“From what I can tell,” Shay said, “all this started ’cause there’s an article coming out in Vanity Fair this week about his Ma. Christ, look at Sophie there.”
Conor saw the look on Sophie’s face that Shay was talking about. She stood next to Gavin with an expression that clearly showed her heart breaking for her husband.
“I can’t believe the bloody madness of this,” Conor said.
“I guess Gav didn’t really intend on doing this, but MTV says all these reporters have been at their house since early this morning trying to get a response.”
“What’s going on?” Colette asked.
“Watch,” Conor said.
He stayed on the phone with Shay while his eyes were fixed on the screen.
The camera had a dead-on angle, focusing on a tight shot of Gavin as he ran his hand through his hair and prepared to speak.
“I’ll just say a few words,” Gavin said and the reporters suddenly hushed while the camera clicks sped up. "You’re all here because there’s been a terrible intrusion into my family’s privacy,” he continued. “An article is due out concerning my mother, the premise being that I have lied to the press and misled fans for the past few years regarding whether she is alive or dead. The article rightly says she is alive.” Here he paused and looked down for a long moment before returning his hard stare at the cameras. “At least to the best of my knowledge she is. I have been one hundred percent honest in the past when I’ve said anything at all about her. I never claimed she was dead, only that I had lost her. I would like to now ask for my privacy back. This is no one’s concern but my own family’s. Please do as we have done and let her live the life of her choosing.”
With that said, Gavin then stepped back from the mass of microphones that had been thrust toward him. He looked exhausted and as Sophie took his hand, he leaned into her slightly.
The station stayed with the scene as the reporters shouted questions at Gavin:
“Why did she abandon her family?”
“Have you ever heard from her?”
“Was she being abused—is that it?”
“What would you like to say to her?”
Conor winced as he imagined the turmoil Gavin was going through. And then he smiled when he could clearly read Gavin’s lips as he muttered “fuck off” in response.
“I can’t get out of here until tomorrow,” Shay said.
“I’ll leave today,” Conor told him.
“Good of you. Then I’ll see you back in Dublin in a few days.”
“Plan on it,” Conor said before ending the call.
“I don’t understand any of this,” Colette said as she pulled on shorts and tank top.
“It’s complicated. Let me try to get in touch with Gavin, then I’ll tell you some of it.”
He tried Gavin’s home phone and immediately got the answering machine. Then he tried Gavin’s cell and went straight to voicemail.
“Fuck, he won’t answer his lines.”
“Do you want Sophie’s cell number?” Colette offered.
“Good idea. I have it,” he said and tried her next.
“Why do you have Sophie’s number?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked absently.
“Because she’s your best friend’s wife.”
Conor ignored Colette as Sophie answered. “I just saw it on the tele, Sophie. What’s going on there?”
“Oh, Connie, it’s awful. Gavin is ready to break down,” Sophie said, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger, sadness, and hurt.
“Shh, now, honey. You know he needs you strong,” Conor told her. “Can you put him on the line?”
“Yeah. Where are you, anyway?”
“I’m in New York, visiting Shay. I’ll get a flight back today, though, and come straight there.”
“That would be great, Conor. Hang on.”
He waited while she took the phone to Gavin, who after a few moments said a hoarse hello.
“You okay, Declan?”
“Been better, Con. I have the feeling once I finish off this whisky I’ll be right numb enough,” Gavin said with a laugh.
“Save some for me. I’ll be there late tonight.”
“Where are you now?”
“In New York. Shay’s coming back tomorrow.”
“Marty offered to come back from France, bless him. I told him no. I’m not even sure why you should rush back, man. There’s nothing to be done at this point. They’re a pack of rabid fucking dogs, the press is.”
“I can see that. Nice touch, by the way, as you went inside.”
Gavin laughed softly. “I couldn’t resist. The fuckers. Here I am asking ever so goddamn nicely to be left alone and they’re suddenly hard of hearing.”
“Least if I’m there we can tell ‘em to fuck off together,” Conor suggested.
There was a long silence and Conor looked to see if he might have lost the connection on his cell phone but he hadn’t.
“Gav?”
When Gavin spoke again his voice was seething with hurt and betrayal. “Con, it was my own fucking brother who gave ‘em the best quotes. He’s t
he one who suggested a reinterpretation of my lyrics. I could kill him.”
“Jesus Christ,” Conor muttered. Conor liked Gavin’s brother about as much as Gavin did, which wasn’t saying a lot. Gavin and his older brother, Ian, had never gotten along. They were born with an incompatibility that seemed to carry over with Gavin’s friends. Ian had always taken the Irish tendency to be skeptical of someone’s ambitions and raised it to the level of contempt for Gavin daring to dream of something as fantastic as being in a band. Despite all their success, Ian had always dismissed Gavin’s part in things, categorizing it as luck rather than talent and hard work.
“Yeah. And I only know it ’cause the magazine sent me the article asking me to comment on it before they went to press. Bastards knew I wouldn’t give ‘em nothing.”
“When did you read it?”
“About a week ago.”
“A week? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I dunno. I guess I didn’t know how the fuck to respond at first. Now it’s gotten all out of control.”
“It’ll die down,” Conor reassured him. “You gave them enough. Now, just shut it out and they’ll have nowhere to go with it and it’ll be done.”
Gavin was quiet again. “I hope you’re right, Con. ’Cause I honestly don’t know if I can handle this.”
“You can, Gav. You can. Look, I’ll be there soon enough. Now, put Sophie back on for a second, okay?”
“Sure.”
While he waited for Sophie, Conor noticed Colette was watching the continued “news” report on the true story of Gavin’s mother. He thought it a bad sign that she was so captivated because if it had that effect on her, what would it do to those who had no personal connection whatsoever?
“Gavin seems a little better for talking to you,” Sophie said as she got on the line.
“Thing is, it won’t last,” Conor replied. “Do me a favor, honey?”
Colette now turned and watched Conor as he spoke on the phone.
“Sure, what?”
“Cancel whatever modeling gigs you have for a bit. He shouldn’t be alone.”
“Wait a minute, what makes you say that?” she asked with alarm.
“No, I don’t mean it like that. He’s about to slip into some serious depression here—you said it yourself.”
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