"True," Bellamy said. "So very true." His lips curved into his trademark smile. God, she loved that smile and apparently so did the audience with their clapping and whistles to prove it. "You know everyone needs a job." He shrugged. "I'm glad I've been helping them stay employed."
"Is there anything else you want to tell the fans?" Tony Jones asked.
Bellamy sat forward in his seat. "We have a special surprise for those coming to the concerts. We'll be performing a new song, never been recorded. It's called Darkness. Just something extra for the fans."
"You heard it here first," Tony Jones said to the audience. The rest of the interview was about the upcoming tour dates.
Evie stared at Bellamy on the screen, looking so content with his life and his plans for the future. He announced a new song, the one the band had sung the other night for the first time, raw in its making. This part of the interview was different. This was not a part of the future she remembered. Come to think of it, Tony Jones asking Bellamy about their relationship was new too. Bellamy hadn't dated her the first time around. He'd been single, and she had been at home watching this interview on her television set.
She felt a moment of excitement. Things had changed, but would it be enough?
Once they were backstage again, Bellamy made his way over to her. His posture was more relaxed, and relief spread across his features. He'd made it through one more interview, she thought.
"What happened to sticking with the plan?" she asked him once he reached her. "You just told the world you were taken?"
To the side, other band members were talking and laughing, overly pleased with their performances tonight.
"I know, we had planned on another story, but then it just didn't sit well with me. I am taken, aren't I?" he asked and searched her face for a clue. "Are you upset that I wanted to shout it to the world?"
"No. Just surprised." Her hand held onto the lapel of his shirt, the material silky smooth between her fingers.
"About time I surprise you. You've been doing it to me since I've met you. So?" He changed the subject. "Besides the impromptu change of my status from single to in a relationship, how did the interview look from back here?"
"You looked great," she told him. "Looked really hot," she added in a lower tone for his ears only.
His eyebrows wagged at her. "Hot enough to get laid tonight?"
If he only knew – always. "If you're lucky," she said to him instead, but she was sure he knew by the glint in her eye.
He reached for the hippocampus necklace he wore, took it off then slipped it over her head. He let the weight of the pendant rest in his palm for a moment longer. "I'm lucky all right. I have you." He let the necklace fall to nestled where her cleavage began and right below where her medal of the archangel Michael rested. He then draped his arm around her shoulders. "Let's get out of here."
Chapter Seventeen
Need You Tonight
"The band has the night off," Bellamy said when he came out of the bathroom, dressed only in a towel tied at his waist. He glanced at Evie, who was standing in front of the mirror brushing her wet hair as if she had a personal vendetta against it. "Whoa," he said and took the weapon of choice from her hand, which so happened to be a brush.
"What?" she asked and turned to look at him, her gaze traveling the length of him before meeting his gaze. He did love the way she admired him with just a wee bit of lust before she reined it in and pretended to be all prim and proper.
"Be kind to your hair. Softer strokes, Babe. What did your hair ever do to you? Turn around." When she didn't move he motioned with his finger. "Turn." She complied with reluctance. He took the brush and with softer and more controlled strokes, he brushed the strands, a small section at a time, to take out the tangles without tearing her hair to shreds.
It was early afternoon. They hadn't left their room all day, ordering in, making love, talking… He enjoyed their talks, never did much talking with some of the women he'd been with in the past. Well, nothing that he'd care to share in polite company anyway. With Evie, they talked about books, and movies, about what they wanted for the future. She liked her job at the old folks home, loved being a nurse, but she wanted to go back to school. She told him about her no good boyfriend who spent her entire college fund before he bailed on her. Made him furious to know someone had hurt her.
She told him about her and Bryce and all the trouble they'd caused their parents while growing up, though Bryce had usually been the one to instigate the trouble and just dragged her along for the ride.
In turn, he told her of his desire to act and delighted her with some of the voices he could do. At least she laughed at his antics. He would never tire of her laugh; it was bold and true. He could just be himself with her. She didn't expect him to be a showman every minute of the day. With her, he was just a man.
Then they showered together, fooled around some more, made love even though the water had turned cold. He couldn't get enough of her, and it seemed she was quite fine with his obsession.
It was difficult to believe they only had another week together. Her contract ended the day before they officially began the tour, and she'd go home to her real job.
To think he almost missed knowing this bright and funny woman. When she first arrived, he believed she was just another babysitter hired by his band mates, and he vowed to make her life on the set a living hell. Surprisingly, she didn't take any of his bullshit. She called him on it every time and dared him to say it wasn't so. No one ever stood up to him like that. Either staff kissed his ass, which just egged him on to be as rotten as possible, or they quit, usually with a big scene with lots of cursing him to hell and back. Evie, Emerson Violet Reid, had surprised him, continued to surprise him, and he liked that about her.
He ran the brush through another section of her hair. She had slipped her nightie on after she left the bathroom, he realized as he glanced at her in the large mirror in front of them. Her flesh must have still been damp and the light material clung to her skin, giving him an excellent view of her perky breasts and the curve of her waist. He glanced down...yep, her nice shapely bum, too. Damn, he was getting hard again. He shook his head as he tried to concentrate on the task at hand. "As I was saying, the band has a night off. We should go out on a date."
She met his gaze in the mirror. "Like, you and me, go out some place?"
"Yes," he chuckled. "That's usually how a date goes. I'll take you to dinner and a Broadway show. Have you ever been to a show?"
"No, and I'd love to go," she said but the light of excitement in her eyes dimmed a little. "I don't have anything packed for such a night out. You've seen my wardrobe."
He'd seen it all right. She had beautiful full curves, but she hid them beneath loose fitting tops and sweaters. "No worries, I'll take care of it, all of it." He ran the brush through her hair and came up with another idea. "Wait here." He strode over to the hotel phone and put in the calls. "You can bring everything up to the room," he said into the receiver. "Uh-huh. Thanks." Placing the receiver back in the cradle, he turned to find her staring at him.
"Wardrobe?" she asked. "And who is Anton?"
He walked over to her and kissed her. "You'll see. You might want to get dressed though." His gaze did a long slow slide down her body, then back up again with a groan. "Though I'm digging the look, you might want to put on something that isn't so revealing."
She glanced at herself, a frown furrowing her brow. Then she gasped as she realized how shear her nightie truly was. It was fun to see her scrambling to get dressed. It was quite a show with plenty of skin. When she slipped on her blouse, the final garment, she met his gaze. "Aren't you going to get dressed?"
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I'm comfortable in my skin." And dropped his towel. Miss Book Marm admired him, and it made Bellamy wonder what she was thinking about doing to him. Her telltale sign of concentration was the tip of her tongue peeking out of those luscious lips of hers, and he knew how magical those li
ps could be.
"Just what were you thinking about?" she asked, mirroring his own thoughts about her. Her eyes still hadn't met his but were settled on one particular spot… one very hard spot.
"Darlin', only you. Didn't realize watching you dress could be such a turn on. My only regret is we don't have any time to do anything about it." As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. He strode over to it.
"What are you doing?" she hissed. "You're naked."
He laughed. "Glad you noticed." He glanced a look through the peephole to see who was there. "It's them," he said. "I'll let you answer it, while I take a long, long, long cold shower." And he headed for the bathroom.
When he finally emerged with a pair of shorts on for decency's sake, Anton had Evie seated in one of the styling chairs that the staff had brought into the room. He noticed the dresser was now being used as a salon shelf with all the items Anton needed to work his magic.
Evie glanced at him with a nervous glint in her eye, and he couldn't help noticing she gripped the chair as if she were expecting the hair styling to hurt.
"Relax, Love, Anton's been cutting my hair for ages. You're going to have fun."
"Yeah, but you have gorgeous hair, as you well know. Mine, on the other hand, is unruly and can't be tamed. Don't you think I've been to a salon?"
"I know how to make magic," Anton said and met Bellamy's gaze over the top of her head with wide eyes. Obviously, Evie's hair would prove a challenge for the hairdresser.
"I know you can do it, Anton," Bellamy said as he spotted the tray of food he had sent up too. His stomach growled, and no wonder with the activity he and Evie had been partaking in almost every day or night, or whenever he could put his hands on her. He poured himself a cup of coffee, a dose of caffeine first before anything more. His hands shook as he tried to lift the cup to his lips. He turned away so Evie couldn't see. He needed another fix soon. As much as he wanted to stay clean for her, he also knew his body would need just a little something to keep him going. He couldn't do this cold turkey. He'd been through withdrawals before. It was never pretty, and he didn't have time for it with the schedule the band had set for the tour. He just had to make it through until the end of November. Then he'd have time to worry about rehab. He'd go through whatever he needed to do to get clean.
He reached for a pastry and took a bite. No taste, nothing. He couldn't smell a damn thing, of food anyway. Evie on the other hand, he could taste her, he could smell the scent of her, the wondrous scent that was all her. He didn't understand the phenomenon, but he wasn't going to question it. He wanted to enjoy it as long as he could. He took another tasteless bite of food, going through the motions to settle his angry gut as it rumbled for nourishment.
"I'm going to go back to my room," he told Evie. "I need to make a few calls. You good here?" he asked.
"Yes," she told him and gave him a brave smile before he left her.
How silent his room seemed without anyone there. The drapes were open and the sun shone through the windows of his room, making it warm, despite the air condition running.
He strode over to the telephone and sat down on the edge of his bed to make the calls. First one was to his lawyer, Thaddeus Moran, a short man with gray hair. He'd been his lawyer since the Civilized Heathens had their first hit single. "Hello, Thaddeus, Bellamy here."
"Hello, Mr. Lovel. How may I be of assistance to you?" He answered in a no-nonsense and authoritative voice and Bellamy often wondered if the man ever left his office. He seemed to always be there when he called, and at times when he couldn't sleep, he'd phoned at odd hours of the night, and the man would pick up.
"Did you receive the contract the producers want me to sign so we can proceed in the new year on my solo album?"
"Indeed. Everything appears in order. It is much like your previous contracts with the band. It should arrive at the hotel sometime this afternoon for you to sign. I also sent you your will, updated as you requested."
"Thank you, Thaddeus. I have something else I'd like you to look into for me."
"I'm sure I can manage."
"How difficult is it to anonymously gift an individual with a full scholarship to medical school in Southern California?" He wanted to do something for Evie. She would have been in school if it hadn't been for her ex-boyfriend screwing it up for her. He had the means, more than he would ever spend. He could share his good fortune and he wanted Evie to be happy. He also knew she would never accept his gift, but if he did it this way, she wouldn't be able to refuse it.
"Not that funds are a problem for you," the lawyer said, "but you do realize the cost will be substantial?"
"I figured, but I want to do it. Can you arrange it?"
"Of course, Mr. Lovel." Thaddeus asked a few more questions about who would be receiving the scholarship, where they lived and planned to go to school. When he was satisfied with the information he said, "I will phone you when I have the documents ready. Anything else you wish for me to do?"
"Yes, take a vacation, Thaddeus."
"Very well, I'll mark it in my calendar to do so."
He paused for a moment surprised by his lawyer's response, but then he chuckled. "I take it that is sarcasm."
"You know me so well. I will call you soon, Mr. Lovel."
Once the call ended with his lawyer, Bellamy sat there debating if he should make the other call. He told Evie about his mother and how he believed she blamed him for his father's death. Evie had asked him if he were sure it wasn't his own guilt that made him believe such a thing? She made him question it, made him want to know.
He punched in the numbers before he decided against it. She answered on the second ring. "Hello," she said. She still possessed a slight Romanian accent. She was a petite woman, curly light hair, and blue eyes, due to her Slavic ancestry. Whereas his father had been more of what one would call the typical Romanian, with predominant Dacian-Roman ancestry and dark curly hair, but his father had green eyes, not brown. He'd claimed his grandmother was a gypsy, and he'd say it with pride. Bellamy didn't know if it were true or just a story his father liked to tell. He claimed his gypsy side of the family sang and danced. "This is where you get your voice, his father had told him. "A good thing, too, he'd say, "or you'd be working for the circus and telling fortunes." Even now, his father's teasing made him smile.
"Hi, Mom," he said and gripped the phone. His nerves were on end and he held his breath. Would she hang up on him? Would she tell him not to call again? All kinds of scenarios raced through his head and none of them were good.
"Bellamy." Her voice changed as she realized who had called. "It's been so long," she said.
Yes, since his father's funeral to be exact, almost a year. "I've been busy." He cringed at the way that sounded. He could have called numerous times, but he feared he'd hear the accusations in her voice, that he was responsible for his father's death.
"How are you doing?" she asked. "I saw your interview on that late night show. You look too thin."
He smiled. It was such a mom thing to say, and he felt himself relax a tad. She always told him he was too thin. "Performing burns calories."
"If you're ever around, I could fix you a good homemade meal."
He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I would like that, Mom." He realized he would really like that. He cleared his throat, which suddenly felt dry.
"Who's this girl you say you're seeing? Saw the photo on the television. She's...not what I expected. Looks like a good girl. You aren't corrupting her, are you?"
He laughed. "She is a good girl. I'm trying not to corrupt her," he said to his mother. Not too much anyway.
"Bellamy, I..." she paused as if she were trying to think of the best way how to voice what she wanted to say to him. "I hope you haven't stayed away because of your father's passing."
"Of course not," he lied.
There was another long pause. "Good. I want to see my boy, and not on television. Yes?"
"I promise,
once the tour is over, I'll come home."
He asked her about her herb garden. How she was feeling. Was she eating? She laughed at that. When he ended the call, he felt better than he had in a long while.
Chapter Eighteen
Beautiful Girl
Four hours later with Anton doing his magic as he claimed, Evie now stared at herself in the mirror, wondering who the woman was staring back at her. Her hair had been layered, making her frizz resembled smooth waves that framed her face.
"You like?" Anton asked hopefully.
She turned and threw her arms around him, surprising the hairdresser.
"I think she does," Bellamy said with a chuckle.
"Then my work is done," he said as he awkwardly patted Evie's back.
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