The Pop Star Next Door

by Aleah Barley

  “Miss, miss,” The voice on the other end of the line was insistent. “Miss, I need you to take a deep breath and calm down. What’s your name?”

  “Anna Montera. My name’s Anna Montera. I’m in Mill City, and I need that ambulance. Now.”

  Tears were streaming down her face. Everything had been going so well, Anna had been doing so great—they’d both been doing so great—and then it had all gone wrong so fast.

  She’d screwed up, and now she needed to fix it.

  “Don’t worry, Adam.” Anna pulled the boy into her arms, ignoring his objections. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise. The ambulance is almost here. I’m going to take care of everything.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Adam! Anna!” Nick’s voice, loud and bellowing. Any number of hospital walls stood between them, but it sounded like he was right by her side. Looming over her. Judging her. “Where is my son?”

  The door to the hospital room swung open, bringing with it the strong scent of death and industrial cleansers.

  “Adam.” Nick strode purposefully toward the bed in the middle of the room. He’d come straight from work with no time to change. He must have been pitching a new garden to a client because for once his outfit was completely formal. A dark gray suit and an emerald silk tie knotted in a crisp double Windsor. His shoes gleamed under the flickering hospital lights, polished black leather, squeaking softly on the linoleum floor. His body barely brushed against Anna’s as he passed her. It made sense. Adam was his son. She was just the woman who’d let him get hurt.

  “What happened?”

  “He—” Anna swallowed hard. Admitting her mistake was going to be difficult no matter what the circumstances were. Trying to speak while Nick’s back was turned in her direction made it almost impossible.

  “I let Adam climb the tree—the holly tree—the one in front of my house.” Her throat was dry. Her hands were shaking. Chipped nails rattled against the arm of her chair, the beat eerie and uneven.

  Tree climbing was a stupid activity. A dumb thing to do with a six-year-old. She couldn’t remember how she’d let Adam convince her that it was a good idea, but she remembered the fall. It was etched into her mind, waiting to be replayed anytime her body stilled or her eyes flickered shut. If she lived to be a hundred years old, then she’d never be able to forget the fall.

  There was no way she could have stopped it. Lunging forward, trying to catch him, she’d already known that there was nothing she could do.

  “I let him fall,” she said. “He hurt his leg. It fractured. The doctors gave him some painkillers, but they said it should be okay.”

  “It’s not even broken,” Adam complained. “I wanted a cast with dinosaurs on it.” Sitting up in bed and spooning chocolate pudding into his mouth as fast as the nurses could bring it, he didn’t realize how much trouble he could have been in.

  There’d been a moment, standing in the emergency room, when a nurse had put a hand on her arm. The woman had kindly, respectfully, informed her that they were going to take Adam downstairs for x-rays. Then she’d said that only parents and legal guardians were allowed past the double doors.

  Like hell.

  Anna’s entire body had gone still. Her tears had dried up, fast. Fear and sorrow replaced by bone-chilling anger. Her head had snapped backward. Her spine straightened.

  Loss of funding, a smeared reputation, lawyers camping out on the front lawn by the dozens, she’d hurled every threat that she could think of. Nothing had worked. For one brief paralyzing moment, she’d thought that they were going to take Adam away from her, and then he’d turned in her direction.

  The little boy whose safety she’d treated so cavalierly. The kid whose presence made the hair stand up straight on the back of her neck. A few hours earlier, she could have sworn that she’d never get used to his presence, and now she couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.

  ‘Come on.’ He’d grinned. ‘It’s an adventure.’ That had been enough for the nurses. Clearly, they knew each other, even if she wasn’t Adam’s legal guardian. They’d told her that she could come along to keep him calm but that they wouldn’t be able to tell her anything until Nick showed up.

  Anna took a deep breath, forcing air down into her lungs. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “It’s a twisted leg.” Nick turned slightly, not enough to look at her straight on but at least she could see his face now. Sharp cheeks and a handsome smile, dark eyes studying her through long lashes. “It’ll heal.” A slight pause. “What about you, Anna? Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yes.” She lied.

  Nothing was ever going to be okay ever again.

  Sucking in a breath, she tried to force a smile onto her face. Years of practice smiling at fans and paparazzi’s cameras meant she should have been able to summon a fabulous grin in the face of even the most desire situation. Her cheeks felt sore. Her teeth hurt where she’d forced them together. Eyes wide open, she settled for a stiff nod. If she weren't smiling then at least she’d stopped frowning—stopped sobbing.

  “Good,” Nick went back to talking to Adam. The two of them conversing politely, talking about ordinary everyday things. His shoulders slumped forward slightly underneath fine black material, his entire body relaxing.

  Why wasn’t he tearing into her? Yelling. Screaming. Shouting with everything he had. “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Nick shook her apology off. Tugging Adam’s t-shirt down into something resembling order, he reached out to wipe the chocolate pudding off his son’s face. After a little while he gave up, his hands coated in brown liquid. A smile made its way on to his face. “Maybe we shouldn’t get any ice cream. At least not for a little while. Have you had anything real to eat?”

  A sharp nod. “Oatmeal cookies.”

  “Anything good for you?” His father prompted.

  “Oatmeal’s good for you.”

  An easy laugh. Nick scooped Adam up off the hospital bed, encircling him in a warm embrace. Clearly he hadn’t phrased the question appropriately. “Any fruits or vegetables?”

  “Oh.” Adam’s cheeks flushed. His mouth formed into a perfect smile. Everything about his expression said that he’d done something wrong. The boy was guilty, and he knew it. “Of course.”

  “What?” Nick asked.

  “Oh.” Already pink cheeks turned red. “Maybe not.”

  It was a touching moment. Father and son. Man and boy, moving past the panic and anger of the moment. Moving on with their lives. Apparently, fruits and vegetables were more important than dangerous falls and calls from the hospital.

  Men. She clenched her teeth. No, not men.

  They didn’t deserve the distinction of that epithet.

  Guys. That was what they were. Guys. Like Trevor. Or Darryl. Or the dozens of drummers who’d disappointed her over the years. Always promising to show up to practice on time and learn their points. Maybe when she launched her new career—her new sound—she’d get an all-female backup band. A female drummer. Someone who peed sitting down.

  “I’ve got to go.” Forcing herself up onto her feet, her head was swimming. The world was spiraling wildly.

  Nick was staring at her now. Firm lips pulled into a surprised expression. His eyes were dark, liquid brown, deep.

  Anna bit her lip, forcing herself to look away. They were the kind of eyes that a woman could drown in if she weren't careful.

  “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  There was something she needed to say—something she needed to tell Nick—what was it? There had been a list. A plan. Carefully formulated in her head, each item chosen, edited, discarded, and then carefully dusted off to be reorganized.

  Nothing sprang to mind.

  “I—” Jerking upright, she wavered nervously. Struggling to keep her legs underneath her. “They asked me about Adam’s insurance information, but I didn’t have the information. I don’t know anything.” A deep breath. “So, I h
ad them put everything on my credit card.”

  Nick shook his head. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Sure it is.” She grabbed her cell phone from where it was lying on the table beside Adam’s bed. “It’s the least I can do. I was the one who let him get hurt.”

  “Anna,” Long fingers wrapped around her wrist. Strong, like steel handcuffs holding her in place. A jerk of his arm. That was all it took to send her slamming forward into his chest. Her body was shaking. Her breath coming faster.

  Nick was firm. Solid. A stone wall built piece by piece from the ground up. Trustworthy and dependable, all she needed was to relax. To open her mouth and bring air into her lungs. If she could just bring herself to relieve some of the tension in her knees, to lean against him, then it would all be over. He could wrap his arms around her—keep her safe—for the rest of her life.

  Instead, she pushed down on the balls of her feet, keeping her legs straight. One breath and then another, this close to Nick all she could smell was soap, stale air, and a dab of the fancy aftershave he wore for important meetings. Sharp. Nutmeg and cardamom.

  Warm lips brushed against her forehead before descending, slightly, his mouth closing on hers. The kiss was soft, small, but that didn’t stop it from sending shivers down her spine.

  Pushing herself up onto her tiptoes, she kissed him back. Longer this time, savoring the heat of his mouth, the flavor of mouthwash and coffee, the way his presence made her skin curl and her toes tingle.

  Dropping her wrist, he wrapped his arms around her torso. One hand splayed across the small of her back, the other dipping lower. Long fingers brushed against her waistband.

  “Anna.” Nick took a deep breath, dragging air into his lungs. Removing his fingers from the waist of her pants, he reached up. Fingers tangled in her hair, pushing pale bangs away from her face.

  “Go home, take a bath, relax. We’ll see you there,” he promised. “As soon as I spring Adam from this place.” A slight pause, the pad of his thumb running across her hairline. “Maybe we’ll even pick up some ice cream on the way home.”

  It was a nice thought. Anna nodded, slowly, not trusting herself to speak. She turned, keeping her hand in her purse—two fingers curled around her cellphone—until she was safely out of the hospital room. The door swinging firmly shut behind her.

  The phone was out in an instant. Fingers shaking so hard, the small buttons, were almost impossible to push. Darryl was the top of her speed dial, but she couldn’t remember how to call him that way. Walking down the hallway, out automatic doors, and into the wet heat of a Mill City summer, she dialed from memory.

  Holding her breath while she waited for the other end of the line to be picked up.

  Ring, ring, ring—click. Someone answered the phone, breathing hard, an old man running for his phone. “Anna. Have you been screening my calls?”

  “Darryl, I want to go home.”

  “About time.” His voice was bright, lighthearted, “When do you want to leave?”

  The sun was hot against her back. The air heavy, humid. Across the street children were playing on a jungle gym, their shrieks and cries competing with the ever present birdsong. “Now,” Anna said.

  “Okay. I’ll send a car from New York. They can pick you up in a couple of hours.”

  “No—Darryl,” Desperation made her voice crack. “I need to leave now.”

  “Anna, are you okay? Trevor said that there was someone at your house when he visited.” A heavy silence, filled with unspoken meaning. “An old… friend.”

  “Nick.” Her gut twisted. Saying his name. “His name’s Nick.” Teeth sliced into her bottom lip. “Please, Darryl. I don’t care what you have to do. I just need to get out of here. Planes, trains, or automobiles. Whatever it takes.”

  Another silence, this one more considerate, punctuated by a deep rasping breath. “Alright, baby girl. You leave everything to me. I’ll bring you home.”

  “Thank you.” A sigh of relief, releasing a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

  The hospital was in a protected area, just outside the center of town. It had been years since she’d been in Mill City, but she still remembered the way home. If she cut through the ravine then it was only a twenty-minute walk home. From there it would take her another twenty minutes to throw her things in a bag and put a leash on Leroy.

  “An hour,” That would give her some extra time, just in case she’d calculated wrong. “Have a car at my house in an hour.”

  She just hoped that would be soon enough.

  Chapter Twenty

  “’On top of spaghetti,’” Adam sang tonelessly, strapped into the backseat of Nick’s car. “’All covered with cheese.’”

  Two weeks earlier the only music that Adam had known was the classical stuff played on NPR and the old rock anthems played at block parties. Nick didn’t know if ‘On Top of Spaghetti’ was an improvement, but there were other songs in the half dozen CDs that Anna had given them. Steel guitar and jazz saxophone. Rock and roll. Country. Wailing blues.

  None of the music had been hers.

  There’d been a copy of her latest album at ‘Play It Again,’ the only music store in town. Twenty copies, arranged in a window display, with ‘Anna Howard’ spelled out in pink script on the front. It wasn’t exactly his style, but there was something about the third track on the CD—a slow song about young love and lost opportunities—that reached inside his chest and wrapped itself around his heart. Squeezing tight. Every time.

  It was almost exactly like what he’d experienced earlier that afternoon. Standing in his office. The phone slipping between his fingers. When he’d heard that Adam was at the emergency room, it had felt like something was breaking inside. He’d driven on automatic, one foot flat on the car, but when he’d gotten to the hospital, his son had been fine. Big eyed. Sugared up. Ready to go.

  It was Anna who’d needed help. Anna who looked like she’d fallen out of the damn tree—again. If it weren't so hypocritical, he’d put up a sign on the old holly: ‘No Touching.’ He might put up the sign anyway. Block letters written in red paint, so no one would mistake their meaning.

  Dragging the steering wheel left to turn onto his street, the goodies in the passenger seat rustled. Flowers and ice cream. Double fudge brownie, the same flavor that Anna had loved when she was fifteen years old. Driving him out of his mind with every lick of her cone, down at the local ice cream parlor.

  Adam had picked out the flowers, a brightly colored bunch of lilies and irises. The six-year-old had stopped on the sidewalk outside the store, adding a sunshine dandelion smack dab in the middle of the fancy bouquet.

  One foot on the brake, slowing the car in front of the two mismatched houses. The old Maddox farmstead side by side with the elegant oversized craftsman. The house that Billy Howard had built with his own two hands, the place that Anna was making into a home.

  It had taken longer than Nick had thought to get Adam discharged from the hospital. The high summer sun meant that it wasn’t quite dark yet, but the light had definitely faded. All the other houses on the street were bright, lit by an internal glow.

  Not his place. Not Anna’s. Instead, there was something dark, almost desolate, about the two big houses.

  Nick shook his head. He was letting the long day and roller coaster ride of emotions get to him. His house wasn’t desolate, and as for the Howard place—in the time since Billy’s death, it had developed a fearsome reputation, haunted, deserted, a place to be avoided at all costs. None of it was true, but looking at those dark windows, he could almost believe it.

  “Dad—” Adam broke off singing. Pressing himself against the car door, he stared out at Anna’s house. “Do you think she’s going to be mad?”

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” Nick promised. Parking the car in front of Anna’s house, he double-checked to make sure that the emergency brake was in position.

  Only after he’d made sure that everything was ship-shape did
he start gathering up his supplies: gorgeous flowers, yummy ice cream, and his bright-eyed boy. Adam squirmed free after a minute. Short legs shot forward as he raced up the stairs to Anna’s front door. Nick followed quickly, his footsteps lighter than they’d been in a long time.

  Over the past two weeks, they’d settled into a comfortable routine: lemonade on the porch, lazy walks with Leroy, and—after Anna had helped put Adam to bed—sex. Lots of spicy, urgent, breathtaking sex. It was enough to turn a man’s head, from thoughts of brief affairs, warm, succulent skin, and soft, buoyant breasts to whimsical notions of marriage. Forever.

  Only, he wasn’t just a man.

  Nick was a father with responsibilities. Adam was the best thing that had ever happened to him—the reason he’d given up his wild ways and turned into a man worth knowing—and any woman who became involved with him had to know that.

  No matter how many times Anna made his toes curls he couldn’t let his mind dwell on forever. Not unless he knew that she loved Adam the same way that he did. Complete, enduring, unconditional love. Singing him to sleep every night for two weeks was nice, caring, but it wasn’t love.

  Calling an ambulance, taking Adam to the hospital, even if it was an overreaction—heck, especially if it was an overreaction—that was love.

  His heart warmed at the thought. Love, loyalty, and pure, unadulterated panic. That was what bound together a ramshackle collection of people, turning them into a family.

  One hand reached out, rattling the handle, but the door didn’t open. Nick knocked twice, politely, before slamming his palm against the door. Sticky blue paint came off on his hand.

  “Anna,” Nick called, rough and ragged. “Anna!” The second time was more like a scream.

  His heart seized. His blood ran cold. Something was wrong. What? He couldn’t think, not with Adam stomping around the front porch. The pitter-patter of little feet was more like the stomping of uncoordinated elephants.

  The pitter-patter of little feet.