Not that Sandy let a pause stop her from going on. “She did a number on you. I get that. I know you’ve got this fear of abandonment thing going on. It’s obvious in the way you treated Will.”
That got my attention. I shrugged off her hand as I whipped around toward her. “That has nothing to do with anything. He was leaving the band anyway. He’s going on tour with Legion Thunder, and I’m going back to Rosewood. I will never see him again, so what’s the point?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” she said, frowning.
“Right,” I said, scowling at her. “Because long-distance relationships with a guy in a band always work.”
She cringed, and I had the sudden realization that she was thinking about her and Max. While I felt an instant pang of guilt, I didn’t have it in me to backpedal.
She went on anyway, focused on keeping the topic on me. “You’re not the jealous type, Nessa. At least you never have been. Though maybe that was more about the guy than the situation.” Her frown turned to a look of pity. “But Nessa, seriously...you and Will? You’re different. This isn’t Andy who was just supposed to be a fun thing. With Will it’s real. And It’s killing me that you won’t even try with him.”
“Why bother?”
“Are you kidding me right now?” She shook her head, her mouth twisted up into an incredulous smirk. “Because you’re in love with him, Vanessa. Isn’t that worth the bother?”
I stared at her for a long moment. I’d never told her I was in love with him and didn’t appreciate her assumption. “No, I’m not,” I said, finishing it off with an eye roll and a “Pfffft.”
She returned my eye roll and raised me a loud tsk. “You can lie to yourself, you know, but you can’t fool me. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. I’ve busted you two coming out of your bunks to secretly hook up. And if that wasn’t enough?” she paused dramatically. “I know you, Vanessa. You are in L-O-V-E so stop denying it. And if all that isn’t enough to make you give it a chance, how about because he obviously loves you and you’re breaking his heart?”
“He doesn’t love me,” I said, trying to ignore that my vehement denials were starting to make even me notice I was sounding like a petulant child.
“He told you he does,” she said.
“He also told me that he falls too hard and fast. He’s a romantic and gets caught up quickly, so I’m inclined to not believe him.”
“You’re inclined...” she repeated my words back to me as she shook her head disbelievingly. “You’re inclined to have your head up your ass. I’m sorry to have to be the one to deliver this tough love news flash, Vanessa Capri, but you’re full of it. And you damn well know it.”
She’d never talked to me this way. Sure, we’d had our roommate fights and even some disagreements on tour, but she’d never been outright angry with me.
And she wasn’t even done. Though she did bring her tone down a couple notches and sounded more sad than pissed when she said, “Not everyone leaves, Nessa. And if you’re throwing this opportunity away because you’re scared of him leaving you, so you figure you may as well dump him first, well, you’re not the strong, kickass girl I thought you were.”
Ouch. That felt like a punch to the gut.
“I guess I’m not the kickass girl you thought I was,” I finally said.
But it didn’t matter, she’d already stormed off the bus.
Proving that, sooner or later, everyone does leave.
My Cup Runneth Over
Dad put his phone face-down on the oversized wooden coffee table in front of him and sat back on the sofa, his gaze lingering on the device. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at me, giving me a sad smile that made my stomach lurch. “She’ll be here in a minute.”
We were in a guest suite upstairs in the hotel, the one Dad had arranged so we could have this happy little family reunion in privacy.
Following Sandy’s lecture and abrupt departure from the bus earlier, I’d dressed (taking way more time to decide from among my three non-band-related outfits than I care to admit) and left the coach, making forgettable small talk with Stefan about the heat as he escorted me on the short walk to the hotel.
Once we got through the doors, I scanned my eyes around the large open area that was filled with clusters of sofas and chairs. I was able to quickly determine Sandy wasn’t in the lobby anywhere, to my great relief.
Because, one crisis at a time, thank you very much. But I still couldn’t help but feel resentful that she was likely off having the time of her life in El Paso with Max and the rest of the guys. Enjoying their day off while I was about to have the meeting from hell.
I’d found my father sitting with Linda in the lobby café, papers spread over the table between them, going over itineraries for upcoming concerts. As soon as I sat in the empty chair across from Dad, he abandoned the paperwork, making it seem like he was going through the motions with Linda to kill time while he’d been waiting for me.
At his insistence, I ate a muffin that may as well have been sawdust raisin for all I tasted of it. The coffee went down a little better, though now that we were in the suite and the meeting with my mother was imminent, the muffin sat like a rock in my gut and my nerves were buzzing. Maybe decaf would have been a better choice.
I nodded at my dad in acknowledgment as I took a breath and willed my leg to stop shaking, hating how nervous I was. It was all I could do to remain sitting in the big upholstered chair that was kitty-corner to his sofa; every instinct in me wanted to run, even though I knew rationally that I couldn’t run from this. Not for very long, anyway.
I wiped my palms on my jeans again and looked down, wishing I’d worn a different top than the plain black tank under a sweater to account for the air conditioning. Not that I had much else on the bus to choose from. And the idea of wearing a Wiretap band shirt to this seemed somehow wrong.
Dr. Carmichael was in the other chair across from me looking comfortable, if reserved, in his khakis and button-down. I was grateful for his presence, even if he never said a word once my mother arrived.
He had coached me a little when we’d first entered the room, reminding me that I was not obligated to do anything other than listen. That my commitment was to myself first and though listening and being face to face with her might make me uncomfortable, I owed it, not to my to mother, but to myself, to learn the whole story. He reminded me that I’d admitted I needed closure on what had happened.
His words helped to take the edge off my anxiety. A little.
Finally, after a few minutes of fretting that felt like a million years, there was a soft knock on the door. I suddenly wished I’d taken the chair that faced the entrance so I could see her come in, but too late for that now. Dad rose and placed a palm on my shoulder for a brief moment on his way by to let her in.
My nails dug into the arms of the fabric of the chair and my heart pounded like crazy. My vision blurred slightly, making me wonder if it was possible to pass out from nerves while sitting in a chair. And hey, how fun would that be?
I forced myself to take a deep inhale as I heard her voice when she greeted my father in a clipped tone.
Chill, Vanessa, it’s just a conversation.
Right. It was almost laughable that I could even try to tell myself that lie.
And then there she was, standing in front of me, her strappy black sandals in my field of vision where my eyes had been trained on the carpet just a moment before. As I let my eyes drift up, it only took a second to take a mental snapshot of her, from those sandals, up to her flowy, black silk pants that were exquisitely tailored, to her black and white patterned sweater set. Her makeup was perfect, yet understated, and her dark hair was neat in a variation of a mom-bob. All she needed was a string of pearls to look like the perfect Hamptons wife and mother. Though her anxious expression made me wonder if she’d finger those pearls nervously.
How she loo
ked was jarring. She’d never looked like this motherly-type person in front of me. Never. She always looked just on this side of slutty, even at events like the Grammy’s—she’d always been provocative, even in formal wear. She always wanted attention, to be talked about, no matter what lengths she had to go to to make it happen.
This woman seemed so different, so understated. Sophisticated, even. Though it was still undoubtedly her.
Of course, I’d seen a glimpse of her the day before, telling myself this transformation was likely an act to arouse sympathy for my long-lost-mom, so I should have been prepared.
But for some reason, it didn’t feel like an act. Maybe I was just being naïve, but I didn’t think so. Either way, I absolutely wasn’t prepared for this. Not even a little.
Especially as her scent drifted toward me. I’d completely forgotten her signature fragrance, had forgotten she’d even had a signature fragrance. But now, every childhood memory of her, bad and good, was triggered by that smell, catching me completely off guard, and kicking me in the gut.
In one sniff, all the emotions I’d thought (hoped?) were dead, buried at sea when her plane had gone down, came rushing back to me on a high tide and lodged in my throat, nearly choking me.
I was also not prepared for her to sit on the coffee table in front of me, our knees almost touching, her scent growing stronger, enveloping me and gripping my heart like it was a physical thing.
“Vanessa,” she said as she reached for my hands.
Filled with a sudden panic, I managed a simple, “No,” and pulled my hands away before she had the opportunity to touch me. Tucking them under my thighs, I turned my head to avoid her eyes and had to swallow back sudden tears.
Dr. Carmichael stood up and gestured toward the sofa. “Why don’t you have a seat on the couch, Janice?” His voice was friendly but businesslike at the same time.
He hadn’t introduced himself to her, so maybe they’d already chatted that morning. Or maybe they knew each other from before she’d disappeared. Couples counseling?
“All right,” she said, standing and stepping around the coffee table to lower herself at the end of the sofa closest to my chair, my father taking a seat next to her. I don’t even know if she noticed him there, her glossy eyes were so trained on me.
“It’s so good to see you, Vanessa,” she said, leaning forward as though to try to touch me again, but then checking herself. Her expression changed to one of uncertainty, which was oddly satisfying.
I wasn’t about to lie and tell her it was nice to see her, too, but I nodded to acknowledge her words. I was almost glad my throat was too tight to allow speech—at least that way I wouldn’t blurt out something stupid. And with my emotions roiling like a whirlpool, who knows what might fly out of my mouth?
She sat back and sighed as she looked down at her hands in her lap. Then, she reached forward and plucked a couple of tissues from the box on the table and leaned back again.
She was nervous. Really nervous. At least as nervous as I was. Maybe even more so. That the woman who’d always seemed like she had it together, no matter what, was unsure and anxious made me suddenly feel calmer.
My father must have figured she needed a little nudge. “Why don’t you start from the beginning, Jan? Tell Nessa the facts of the story.”
Not taking her eyes away from my face, like she was trying to catch up on five years of not being able to look at me, she nodded and said, “Yes, of course. But first...” She took a deep breath as she leaned forward and rested an elbow on the armrest of the sofa, angling herself toward me.
“First I need to say this to you, Vanessa. I need to tell you that I have missed you. So very, very much. I know that you probably won’t believe me when I say I thought about you every single day I wasn’t in your life, but I did.”
She finally dropped her eyes and shook her head before continuing. “You must think me the worst kind of mother, and you’d be right. I do not expect your forgiveness nor even your understanding because there is no excuse or any good reasons for what I did. But no matter what happens here today,” she paused to dab at her eyes with the tissue, and then lifted her gaze to mine, looking straight at me. “I love you. I never stopped loving you, and there is nothing you could do or say to me—nothing—that would make me not love you or love you any less.”
Her lip quivered as she stared into my eyes, driving her point home.
Aaaaand cue the waterworks.
I looked down as the tears began to overflow, feeling as a tissue got tucked into my hand. I nodded, though wasn’t able to offer a verbal thanks.
“But now that I’ve said that, I need to tell you what happened. I’m not going to try to sugar-coat anything; there’s not much point, because, in case you haven’t read it already, it’s already out in the press. While they don’t have it all right, the bones of their stories are, sadly, based in fact.”
I looked up at her then. “I haven’t read anything,” I croaked past my tight throat and then glanced at my dad. “We learned—the hard way—to stay away from the press.”
She cringed. “My fault, and for that, I will be forever sorry.” She sighed, her shoulders drooping a little as she continued. “I can deal with what they’re saying about me—I deserve most of it, but I want you to know the whole truth. From me.”
I nodded, mentally girding my loins, as they say. She glanced over at my father who nodded at her encouragingly. It made me wonder—and not for the first time—just how close they’d gotten since she returned.
Not that I was about to ask.
She turned back to me. “Well, I guess I should start at the beginning like your dad said. I’m not going to go into the nitty-gritty details of our marriage that aren’t relevant, but by the time we got to five years ago, it was...strained. We tried to keep a lot from you, but...” she glanced back at my dad and sighed.
“I worked too much,” he said, moving his eyes from her to me. “I saw some of the signs that your mother was unhappy, but I was too immersed in the bands, the studio, everything other than her to really notice. I guess I didn’t realize just how unhappy she was.” He swung his gaze back to her, looking apologetic.
I wanted to scream at him that this wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t the one who ran off with someone else, but all the screaming remained inside my head as my mother shook hers. “Your father is being generous. Yes, I felt neglected. Yes, he probably did work too much, creating an imaginary rivalry between me and Linda.” She snorted. “One poor Linda didn’t even know existed.”
I glanced over at Dad, but his expression gave nothing away.
“But at the same time,” she went on, drawing my attention back to her. “I did not communicate my needs and feelings appropriately.”
She dropped her eyes and picked at a nail that wasn’t painted, a detail that suddenly jumped out at me. She’d always had perfectly manicured and painted nails. This small thing seemed so...not her. Just one more way the woman sitting here seemed so different from the mother I’d known.
“I had an affair. No, I can’t even say that. I had affairs, plural,” she said softly, but it was like she’d shouted it through a megaphone because it sure got my attention. I’d assumed it had only been the one affair—doozy though it was. “And I am not blaming your father. I didn’t have to cheat. I could have suggested counseling, vacations, self-help books, something, anything, that wouldn’t have been so...destructive.
“But, looking back I realize I was just trying to get his attention. I became more careless, not trying to hide it at all.” She frowned. “Except from you, of course. But it was easier to do that when you went off to boarding school.”
Right. Because even before Rosewood, there was a different boarding school. And here I thought they’d sent me away because they were good schools with equestrian programs, providing the best education a girl could get. So naïve, Vanessa.
“And the
thing with Nick.” She shook her head and blew out a breath. “That was truly the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Probably the stupidest thing anyone has ever done.”
I had a sudden, irrational urge to comfort her, but I resisted it, pressing my lips together to keep it all in.
“Janice,” my father said gently. “I think what Nessa wants to hear is the story of what happened where it relates to your leaving.”
I flicked my eyes to him, grateful that while he wasn’t piling on to her self-castigation, neither did he comfort her while nudging her forward.
She nodded and then took a breath as she dabbed the tissue gingerly below her eyes. “Anyway, I thought what better way to get your father’s attention than to seduce his latest up-and-comer? I thought that would get his attention.”
“It didn’t,” Dad said sadly. “Not at first, anyway.”
I nearly lost my sawdust muffin, but by sheer force of will, managed to keep it down. She wasn’t done, though.
She sighed. “That’s when we—Nick and I—cooked up our plan.”
Plan? Remember that dread quota I’d thought had been filled? Well, my dread cup just runethed over. “Oh God,” fell out of my mouth.
“You recall that I was a publicist for your dad and others in the industry?” I didn’t nod, but she went on anyway. “Well, together Nick and I thought that we’d run away together, stage the plane crash and be lost at sea for a while. Then, when all hope was lost, we’d be miraculously discovered.” She swallowed and then glanced at my dad. “Your father would realize what he’d been missing and of course take me back while Nick would get great press and it would launch his career.”
Wait. What?
I stared at my mother for several long seconds while I processed. It had never occurred to me that there hadn’t been a plane crash. When I’d heard just days ago that she wasn’t dead, I’d assumed that after the crash, they’d washed up on an island and had been lost to civilization, surviving on papaya and fish caught by her and her boy toy until they were finally rescued. But this? This was truly twisted.
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 85
