At the end of their second number, Nick applauded. “You guys sound great, but the theatrical part of your performance needs polish. If you don’t add a little panache and movement to your routine, you’ll look like four stick figures on stage.”
Mike, the drummer, glanced at Travis and Fletcher, the lead guitarist and bass player. “He’s right. You guys need to move around more. Ry and I can’t since he’s gotta stay behind his keyboard, and I’m stuck to my drums.”
“That’s true,” Nick agreed, “But you two can still put some flair into your technique. Exaggerate your arm movements a little, Mike. Shake your head a bit. Convince me you’re totally into the song. And, Ryan, your feet aren’t glued to the floor. You should be making love to that microphone while you’re singing solo.”
“Yeah.” Fletcher laughed. “Pretend it’s one of Dani’s luscious ti—”
Travis shoved the bass guitarist, cutting off his obscene suggestion. “He’s her father, dipstick.”
“Oh, shit, I didn’t know.” Fletcher shrugged. “Sorry, man. Ryan just calls you Mr. R. Aren’t you kind of young to have a kid in high school?”
“Yeah, I am. But that’s because I thought like you when I was your age. Concentrate more on your music and less on getting laid, and you may avoid the mistakes I made. And if you really want to succeed, stay away from booze and drugs, too.”
Four heads all nodded in a patronizing way that suggested they’d already heard that particular sermon too many times from their parents.
Damn. When had he become one of the old farts who used to lecture him?
“So what’s your group called?” Nick asked, changing the subject.
Ryan glanced at Mike who looked at Travis and Fletcher.
“Good question,” Mike said. “We’ve been going around about that for months, and we’ve got a gig in two weeks.”
“It sounds like you’d better decide on a name, fast.”
“The problem is,” Ryan explained, “every good name we come up with already has a group using it. We need to label ourselves with something unique.”
“We’re all from Redemption,” Travis pointed out. “How about working off of that?”
Nick shook his head. “That’ll make you sound like an inspirational group. “How about combining each of your initials in front of something catchy? Maybe something like RTMF Express. It would give the impression the band’s on the fast track to success.”
“I like that,” Ryan said. “But won’t people wonder what the RTMF stands for?”
“Does it matter?” Mike asked. “For all anyone else knows, it means Royally Tough Mother-Fu—”
“I hope that’s not the image you guys are going for,” Nick cut him off. “I’m not suggesting you need to be squeaky clean. But you’ll go a lot further if you don’t have fathers like me forbidding their daughters to listen to your music.”
“Mr. R. is right,” Ryan agreed. “We need to attract as broad of an audience as possible.”
“I suggest you let the public wonder what those initials stand for. The enigma could create some buzz. You want kids talking about you. If people ask you, tell them the initials stand for whatever they want them to. In no time at all, you’ll have kids making stuff up and Tweeting about it. Now, we need to discuss getting you guys a topnotch website to promote your group.”
Fletcher set his bass in its stand. “We can’t afford a professional one.”
“In today’s competitive market, you can’t afford not to have one. My neighbor’s a web designer. Maybe you could talk him into a barter arrangement. The four of you could do his yard work for six months or something.”
“I say we do whatever Mr. R. says.” Ryan jerked his head toward him. “He knows what he’s talking about.”
Or at least Nick liked to think he knew a little something.
~*~
The house was deathly quiet when Dani arrived home on Saturday evening and found the sofa bed from the master suite had replaced the living room couch.
What the heck was that all about?
She crept upstairs and found her mother at her sewing machine. As usual.
“Hey, Mom, where’s Daddy?”
“At the moment, I can’t say. Right after lunch, he took off with Ryan to go to his rehearsal.”
Darn. She would’ve liked to go with them. “When is he coming home?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care,” her mom muttered as she snipped the embroidery threads on a dog’s face and tossed them in the trash can with an extensive collection of peanut butter cup wrappers.
Great. Her mom was really pissed at him again.
“Don’t you need to know what time to serve supper?”
“We can eat whenever you’re hungry.” Translation—her mom didn’t care if Dani’s dad made it home in time for their meal.
“So what’re we having?”
Sam stopped sewing and turned to face her. “I’m sorry, sweet pea. I’ve been so busy since Dr. Chase left I haven’t given dinner much thought.”
Of course not. How could her mother be hungry after eating an entire bag of candy?
“I could make us tuna sandwiches if you’re too busy to cook. I’ll even open a can of vegetable soup or make a green salad if you don’t think a sandwich is nutritious enough.” Although, that didn’t mean she had to actually eat either of them.
“I have a better idea. Why don’t we treat ourselves and order a pizza?”
“You’re going to let me eat pizza for supper?”
“As long as we have that tossed salad you were willing to make with it. Unless you’d rather have green peppers on the pie. I want you to eat a vegetable besides tomato sauce.”
“Daddy hates green pepper on his pizza.”
“Yes.” Her mother’s lips pursed in a satisfied smirk. “I know.”
Jeez, pissed was an understatement. Before she knew it, her dad would be moving out again. And if what she’d recently learned about supply and demand in economics was true, the price of peanut butter cups would reach an all-time high.
~*~
Sunday morning, Nick rolled out of the sofa bed at four-thirty a.m. to make it to the airport before the red-eye from Los Angeles landed. He arrived at the baggage claim to meet Bethany with only moments to spare.
“Nick!” The red-haired girl waved as she stepped off the escalator and dashed over to the baggage carousel, dragging her carry-on behind her. “Thank you so much. I promise I’ll find some way to pay you back.”
“That’s not necessary. All I ask is that you take good care of Ryan’s mom.”
“I brought two big suitcases and packed the rest of my stuff in boxes. I had them shipped to your house like you suggested.”
The baggage carousel clunked and began moving.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t book you on a direct flight.” He didn’t mind helping her, but his generosity didn’t extend to paying an extra two hundred dollars for non-stop peak travel.
“I didn’t mind. After I switched planes in Las Vegas, I slept the rest of the way.” She glanced around behind him. “I was hoping Dani would be with you.”
“I would’ve brought her if your plane hadn’t landed so early. Sam and I want her to get as much sleep as possible. I think I told you she developed leukemia a few years ago.”
“But she’s still in remission, right?” Bethany asked, dragging a beat up suitcase that looked older than Nick off the conveyor.
“Yes, thank God. You probably shouldn’t say anything about her illness to Ryan or his family. She blasted me the other night when I started to mention it to him.”
“So are Dani and Ryan going together?”
“I guess you could call it that, even though she’s not allowed to officially date”—he drew little air quotes—“until she’s fifteen. I would’ve drafted him to take the ride with me this morning, but Cindy doesn’t get home until six-thirty. After being up with his mom so much, he needs all the sleep he can get, too.”
“I can’t wait to meet them all.” She pointed to her other battered piece of luggage, which he grabbed before the conveyor could whisk it away.
“I think you’ll like them a lot,” he said as he picked up both suitcases and led her toward the short-term parking lot. “Cindy’s about your age and Ryan is a great kid. You should ask him to sing for you sometime. He has an amazing voice.”
“What about their mom? What’s she like?”
“Mary’s very nice. Her speech is a little hard to understand at first, but after you listen a while, you’ll catch on. Ryan says she’s so determined not to be a burden she actually makes their lives more difficult by trying to do things herself.”
“But if she’s going to get better she needs to do as much as possible, right?”
“Right.” Nick smiled. “That’s why they need your help.” He pressed the remote to unlock his SUV, which beeped and flashed its lights. “I told the Flynns I’d have you there early this morning, and Cindy insisted she wanted to make us breakfast.”
“That’s sweet. But I hoped I’d have the chance to see your house and meet Samantha.”
“It’s better if you wait to meet her. I’m kind of in the doghouse right now.” He opened the rear hatch and stowed Bethany’s luggage.
“I hope it’s not because you’re helping me?”
“No. I acted like a jealous jackass yesterday, so she’s not speaking to me. And I’m not sure I totally convinced her we’re not lovers.”
“She thinks we’re hooking up?” Bethany slapped her hand over her mouth, giggling as he slammed the hatch. “Oh-my-gosh, that’s too funny.” She continued laughing as she heaved her carry-on bag onto the back seat and climbed into the passenger’s side of the vehicle.
It wasn’t that funny. He might be a bit older than Bethany, but it wasn’t as if he was decrepit or anything.
Nick slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine. “You lived with Greg, and he’s almost my age?”
Bethany’s laughter died instantly. “That isn’t why you’re doing all of this for me, is it?” Anxiety flared in her wide-eyed gaze. “You weren’t hoping I would—”
“No. Of course not.”
“I mean, it’s not that I don’t think you’re an incredible hunk. But you’ve been so nice to me, I’ve never thought of you that way.”
“So what’re you saying? A guy needs to be a total bastard and slap you around for you to be attracted to him?” When she bit her lip and shrugged, he shook his head. “Can’t you see that’s a problem? You need to find a nice guy. Instead, you keep getting involved with violent, obnoxious jerks.”
It didn’t take a PhD in psychology to see she was unconsciously recreating her relationship with her abusive father, hoping he would finally love her. The far-reaching effect of Bethany’s dysfunctional past was a living, breathing reminder of how important his relationship with Dani was.
“I know you’re right. I guess I just haven’t met many nice men.”
That’s because she’d been hanging out with the dredges of society. “You’re a smart woman. You need to go to college and mingle with a better class of people.”
“Right. How am I supposed to pay for that?”
“The government has grants and student loans you could apply for. I’ll help you with the applications if you’d like. Is there any particular job you’d be interested in doing?” he asked, pulling his vehicle up to the booth to pay the parking attendant.
“I don’t know. I guess I’d like to do something creative. I’m kind of artistic.” She released her seat belt, spun around, and leaned over the seat to root through her carry-on bag. After she turned back to face the road and refastened her seat belt, she opened the sketch pad she’d pulled out.
While he followed the ramp onto I-95, she flipped through her colored-pencil drawings, one of which was an incredible likeness of his daughter. “I drew this one on the plane from a picture I took while Dani was visiting you last spring. I thought you might like it.”
“I do. Thank you. You know, my neighbors are a computer animation artist and a web designer. They might let you watch them work sometime so you could get an idea if you’d like doing their jobs.”
“That would be awesome.” She settled back in her seat and sighed. “You’re the absolute best, Nick. Samantha and Dani must be so happy to have you back home.”
He understood how Bethany might think that. But, sadly, she couldn’t be more wrong.
CHAPTER 10
Two sharp knocks pulled Sam’s gaze from the Sunday paper to the family room’s French doors. “Come on in,” she yelled and smiled when Jenny, her neighbor, stepped inside. “Aren’t you usually at church at this hour?”
As a young child, Sam had loved Sunday school where she’d been taught about a loving and forgiving God, which she still believed in. But after being forced to sit through years of fire and brimstone sermons delivered by her Aunt’s radical preacher, she’d developed an aversion to organized religion.
Despite her ambivalence, she’d gone to mass with Nick and taken her daughter to catechism classes. However, her involvement had been strictly to support their faith. Consequently, when Nick quit attending church after their son died, she’d followed suit. But in recent months, she’d discovered she missed the peaceful hour of reflection each week.
“Keith’s driving me so nuts I didn’t feel very spiritual this morning,” Jen explained, raking her fingers through her dark, shoulder-length hair. “I told him to take the boys to church by himself. I’ve been working so many hours and haven’t had a chance to talk to you, so I figured there was no time like the present for a chat.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been spending all my spare time sewing.” Sam motioned toward the coffee maker. “Pour yourself a cup and sit.”
Jenny pulled a mug from the cabinet and filled it. “Anyway, you’re a lot more entertaining than Father Rossi and much cheaper than seeing a shrink.” She set her cup on the table and plopped her size six bottom into the chair across from Sam.
“With Nick back under my roof, I think I need psychiatric care more than you do. Either that or an exorcism.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Jenny laughed. “Keith and I have done nothing but fight the last few months. I think we might both be happier if we split up.”
Even though Sam had never been more furious at her ex-husband, her gut reaction was to blurt out, “Don’t do it. Being single has its own set of problems. As soon as Keith’s working again, I’m sure things will get better.”
“Are you telling me you’re sorry you divorced Nick?”
Sam shrugged. “At times, I guess. But at the moment, I consider it the best thing I ever did. You wouldn’t believe the way he behaved toward Adam yesterday.”
“Yes, I would. Last night, I overheard him tell Keith how he screwed up.”
“Ahh, so that’s where he went instead of coming home for dinner.”
Jenny added a teaspoon of sugar to her cup. “If you feel that way, how can you justify advising me to tough it out with Keith?”
“You still love him, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Jenny sighed. “That’s part of the problem. If I didn’t, he wouldn’t have the ability to tick me off.”
“If he loves you and the boys, that’s all that should matter.”
“Oh really? Didn’t you love Nick when you split up? And don’t you still?”
“The two of you are different.”
“Yeah? How?”
“Your husband didn’t marry you because he felt like he had to. If Nick adored me the way Keith worships you....” Sam shook her head, unable to express the pain of knowing she was merely a possession. “And we had major bedroom problems.”
“Aside from the whole pregnancy thing, we’re not that different.” Jenny leaned forward in her seat and lowered her voice. “Keith would kill me if he knew I talked about this, so you have to swear you won’t breathe a word to anyone.”
“You
know I’d never break your confidence, sweetie. Besides, who would I tell?”
When their gazes met, Jenny’s mouth curved into a sad smile. “I miss her, too. And if Lindsey was still alive, I probably would’ve already confessed to both of you.”
“Now you’ve got me curious. Confessed what?”
“Uh, ever since Keith lost his job, he’s had trouble getting....you know.” She shrugged. “He’s upset and angry—”
“—and taking it out on you?”
“Exactly. It’s been three months since we’ve made love. I’ve been sympathetic, but the more understanding I am, the surlier he gets.”
“Men’s identities are wrapped up in their jobs,” Sam said. “Relying on you to support your family has to be emasculating for him.”
“Knowing that doesn’t make him any easier to live with. And as for me being our family’s provider, that’s a joke.” Jenny snorted through a humorless laugh. “Our savings is wiped out, and I have no idea how we’ll pay the mortgage next month. Keith’s talking about selling the house.”
Sam reached across the table and squeezed Jen’s hand. “I’d offer you a loan, but I’m already indebted to Nick for a year’s back mortgage payments.” Despite how much she’d criticized his taking on the whole world’s problems, she couldn’t help admiring him for trying to help their friends. “I have some chocolate glazed donuts in the freezer.” She smiled, standing to head for the fridge. “Would they help?”
“What a stupid question.” Jenny laughed. “Chocolate always helps.” Her smile dropped suddenly as she added, “Especially when drinking is out of the question.”
Sam froze in her tracks and peered at her friend. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
Jenny nodded, tears welling in her eyes.
“Have you taken a pregnancy test?”
“Doc Foster ran one after I told him how sick I’ve been feeling. I saw my OB/GYN on Friday, and he confirmed it. My due date is late May. And you’ll never guess who I ran into at Dr. Brennan’s office. She’s due on April Fool’s Day of all days.”
The Great Bedroom War Page 15
