Famous Love

by Lelly Hughes

  It’s only a matter of seconds before Stormy is in front of me, trying to block me from watching Zara climb the steps that will take her back into the studio, except she doesn’t go in. Instead, she stands there and looks at me. I can feel her penetrating gaze as if it were boring into my soul.

  Chapter 9

  Zara

  “What are you doing?” Darian pulls me down the hall toward our makeshift dressing room by my arm. People stare but quickly divert their eyes, probably chalking this up to a brother/sister quarrel. Darian and I are known to have those from time to time.

  “What’s your problem?” I ask, pulling my arm from his grip.

  “Why are you flirting with that man?”

  “Excuse me?” I ask incredulously. The last time I checked I was a grown woman free to do whatever the hell I wanted.

  Darian points and because I feel like mocking his insolent behavior I follow his finger and stare at the wall. “I don’t see anyone.”

  He scoffs and throws his hands up, much to my delight. “Grow up, Z.”

  “Darian, I’m having a hard time understanding this protective brother shit. Fill in the blanks for me, so you and I are on the same page.” And because I want to be defiant, I cross my arms and make sure my foot is tapping on the floor with my lips pursed.

  “Van is flipping the hell out because you were flirting with that extra.” My face must morph into something dangerous because Darian steps back and raises his hands as if that is going to protect him from the beat down he’s about to receive.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, big brother, Van cheated. Not just emotionally but physically in the worst way possible. If he had kissed another woman, I’d probably be able to forgive him after he groveled for a year, but he gave himself to someone else when he vowed that I would be the only one. If Van has a problem with me talking to the father of the girl that is the lead in our video, he can take it up with Laura… oh wait, he’s sleeping with her too, not to mention he has a girlfriend already.”

  “I’m just saying--”

  “What exactly? That I’m supposed to open my arms and let that piece of shit back into my life?”

  “What? Hell no,” he says shaking his head. “We’re at work. I told him he needs to remain professional, and so do you.”

  I roll my eyes, but he’s right. Not that I was flirting with the man outside, but even if I were, that’s my choice and my business. Darian pulls me into a hug and rests his chin on top of my head.

  “I know shit’s hard, Z. We’re all feeling it.”

  That was something I didn’t want to happen, for the band to suffer. I know the easiest thing is for me to forget that Van has destroyed our marriage, but I can’t. If he wasn’t happy all he had to do was say something but had to go and do the more hurtful act out there. We could’ve easily parted amicably and saved ourselves a lot of pain. Although I can’t imagine the pain being any less than it is now.

  “We could kick him out.”

  “Caleb would never go for it,” Darian says. He’s right. Honestly, I think the label would probably prefer that I quit than to lose Van.

  A loud voice booms outside the dressing room, announcing that lunch is over and its time to get back to work. Reluctantly, I follow Darian out of the dressing room and find myself looking down the hall to see if I can spot Levi. For the life of me, I can’t understand why I would do that. I don’t know if it’s because of his accent or because he sticks out like a sore thumb. He seems to be so out of place with this plaid shirt and cowboy boots. I look down at my gloved hand and smile. It hurts like a bitch, but the way he tried to take care of me stands out clearly in my mind.

  It’s another two hours when we finally wrap. I catch wind that the dancers are all going back to Stormy Austin’s house for a party and that everyone is invited. Everyone that is except for Reverend Sister because honestly, why would they think to invite the band knowing full well we’d tell them no.

  Still, I’m curious and ask one of the choreographers to point out who Stormy is. Call it a hazard of the job or whatnot, but I’ve never learned any of the extra’s names prior to now. When he points to Levi’s daughter, a small smile plays on my lips. The urge to ask for directions is pressing, but I refrain and head to the dressing room instead to grab my bag so I can head home.

  I quickly change back into the shorts and tank top that I arrived in and cover my eyes with my sunglasses. At least now when the paparazzi take my picture, I’ll have make-up on and won’t look like death warmed over.

  Outside, the dancers are all chatting about the shoot and how they thought it went well. One comments that he didn’t like the song and if I wasn’t in a hurry to get out of there, I’d grab his name and make sure he never worked another day in the industry again

  “Can we talk?” Van says when I’m half way to my car. In front of me, Levi and his daughter are handing out pieces of papers, which I’m assuming contain their address. Levi looks over and smiles, but it quickly fades. No doubt because of the look on my face that has nothing to do with him and everything to do with Van.

  “No, we have nothing to talk about.” I step to move around him, but he blocks me.

  “At least let me explain, Z. You owe me that.”

  I raise my glasses so he can see my eyes. Unfortunately for me, tears that I have held back all day decide this is the time to make their appearance. “I owe you? I didn’t do anything to warrant you cheating on me, Van,” I grit out, trying to keep my voice low. “Get out of my way and out of my life.” For emphasis, I jab him in the chest with my finger.

  “I’m done playing around Zara. I’m heading over now so we can talk about this shit.”

  “I won’t be home.”

  “Yeah you will,” he says as he heads toward his car. I hate that he’s right, that he knows me so well to know that I will be home because I’m afraid to go anywhere else. I could go to Darian’s, but Van would go there next.

  I glance back at the crowd around Levi and Stormy and catch him looking again. This time when he smiles, I return the gesture and head toward him.

  “So hey, I don’t usually invite myself to other people’s parties--”

  “Oh! My! God! You want to come to my house?” Stormy says, interrupting me. The people around her seem thrilled, but I can’t grasp whether it’s fake or not.

  “I thought that maybe… you guys seem cool,” I say to the group of them. By now they’ve all pasted on their phony smiles and are happily agreeing.

  “Here’s our address,” Levi says, handing me a piece of paper. “This is very low-key and last minute.”

  “Thanks.” I hold the piece of paper up like I’m reaffirming an appointment. The only thing that is keeping me from going is the fact that I don’t know these people and they will likely have their cell phones out. The last thing I want is to have my picture plastered all over social media or have to explain myself to Laura, not that we’re on speaking terms. Although going to their house seems like a better option than sitting home and having Van show up with the paparazzi lingering around out front.

  As odd as it sounds, being at the Austin’s house where everything is normal seems to be my best option right now. I feel awkward standing there with Levi looking at me and my hand suspended in the air, and before I can make a bigger fool out of myself, I pocket the slip of paper and head toward my car. The quicker I can get out of there, the better.

  But because I’m a glutton for punishment, I figure I’ll stop at the store, so I don’t show up empty-handed, and while I sit in my car I place a ridiculous order and pay for rush delivery… out in the parking lot. I use the time that I’m sitting there to contemplate my life.

  I’m thirty-two years old and separated. My soon to be ex-husband can’t grasp the idea that I want a divorce. No, want isn’t a strong enough word. I need, or I’m adamant that it happens. He also needs to stay away from me because my body still desires his, even though the sight of him makes me ill. I will never get the image
s of him and that assistant going at it on the desk out of my mind. She touched what I deemed mine a long time ago, and no amount of groveling from him will ever be able to change my mind.

  It’s an hour or longer until the delivery boy drives his car from one end of the parking lot to the other, where I’m parked under a couple of palm trees.

  “Ms. Phillips?”

  “Yes.” I push the button to open the back hatch and watch through my rearview mirror as he loads the obscene amount of food into the back of my car. My excuse for doing this is because I want the Austins to have an enjoyable party and because I can. Maybe this is my way of saying thank you, although I don’t know what for. He’s the one who burned my hand, yet if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t be on my way to his house to hang out with the dance crew from my video.

  “Something is really wrong with me,” I say to my reflection.

  After the last bit is loaded, the boy appears at my window again and hands me a slip of paper to sign. I leave him a ridiculously stupid tip and thank him. With the Austin’s address in my navigation system, I head in their direction, quickly realizing that they live in a nicer part of town not far from Bel Air.

  By the time I pull up to the curb in front of their house, I am completely dumbfounded. It’s not at all what I expected. The front yard is beautiful green shrubbery with a small brick wall encasing the yard. The driveway is long, somewhat steep and full of cars, leaving me no choice but to fill my arms with bags.

  I maneuver my hand to reach the doorbell, only to have the door swing wide open. The woman who answers looks a bit confused but offers to take a couple of the bags from my hands.

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting another delivery,” she says as she motions me into the home. The dark cherry floors look vibrant against the white walls and wainscoting. “You can follow me into the kitchen.”

  I do as she suggests, finding myself tongue-tied. I made an assumption about these people, and I was clearly off base. The open floor concept is warm and inviting, vastly different from how I feel in my home right now. In the kitchen, another woman smiles and takes the remaining bags from my hands.

  “Why on earth did Levi order so much food?” she says as she starts taking the pre-made food from the bags. “Do you have a slip?”

  “A slip?” I ask, slightly confused. Don’t these people know who I am?

  “For us to sign?”

  It hits me that they don’t have any idea who I am and I rather like that. “Oh, I’m with the crew,” I say, nodding my head toward the open patio door where I can hear people splashing in their pool.

  “You came?” It’s the sound of Levi’s voice and his accent that has me turning around so quickly that I almost give myself whiplash. “And you brought food?”

  I avert my gaze and look at only a smidgen of the food I brought. I shrug and stick my hands into the pockets of my shorts. “I uh… ya know there’s more in the car,” I say with a smile. I might as well own my mistake.

  “Let’s go get it then,” Levi says, motioning toward the door. He waits for me to pass by him before he follows. We walk silently down his driveway to my Range Rover, and once the back hatch is lifted, he starts laughing.

  “Wow.” He takes his hat off, and for the first time, I get a glimpse of his chestnut hair. It’s shorter around the sides, but slightly longer on top. It’s almost as if he just had it cut.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I thought… you know what I’ll just say it. I assumed that by having the crew over it’d be putting a burden on you and I didn’t want that so I stopped at the store.”

  “Darlin’, I think you’re tryin’ to feed the whole neighborhood.” He reaches into the back and grabs every bag, leaving nothing for me to carry.

  “I can help,” I say as I close the back.

  He pauses halfway up his driveway and gives me a smile that has me questioning why I’m here. “You already are,” he mumbles. I don’t think he intended for me to him hear clearly, but I did.

  Chapter 10

  Levi

  I never expected Zara to show up at Stormy’s makeshift after party, but not only did she show up, she brought enough food to feed the entire Bel Air block that we live on. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I am more than capable of providing enough food for everyone.

  It seems that when she’s around, I’m saying some ridiculous things, mostly for my own benefit and not for hers. I have a feeling she has stealth hearing because after I tell her that she’s already helping I hear a tiny gasp. Now that could be from some critter roaming through the bushes or the scuff of her shoe as we walk up the inclined driveway, but if I had to bet my prized Stetson that the sound came from her, I would.

  As soon as we step onto the concrete porch, she brushes by me to open the door. “Thank you, ma’am,” I say with a wink and hear yet another audible gasp. I sort of like this game, and it makes me curious as to how many times country boy Levi Austin can make this woman lose her breath. Honestly, probably not too many once she realizes that we have absolutely nothing in common.

  In the kitchen, Barbara and my mother rush to ease the burden of carrying so many bags. I could’ve made more than one trip, but I’d rather spend some time talking to Zara. It’s been entirely too long since I’ve felt drawn to a woman, let alone one like her. Outside appearances tell me right off that she’ll never fit into my world, nor would I fit into hers. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk, share a beer, and maybe laugh a little.

  “Mama and Barb, this is Zara. She’s the lead singer of Reverend Sister. Stormy was in her video today.”

  “The lead, actually, and she did an amazing job.” Zara smiles as she steps forward and shakes their hands. It occurs to me that I didn’t even give her my mother’s name and I feel completely awkward blurting it out now.

  “That’s our girl,” my mama says, beaming at the accolade that Zara just bestowed onto Stormy.

  “I was really impressed with her,” Zara adds, making my mother even prouder. If this were a date, I’d say that Zara is racking up the quality points with my mother.

  “Levi should give you a tour of the house. Go on now; we’ll get the food out to everyone.” My mother winks at me, and all I can do is shake my head. With the height difference between Zara and I, there’s no doubt in my mind that she saw my mother’s not too subtle actions. Sometime later I’ll have to school my mother on the art of the pick-up, not that I’m a pro because as Barbara will happily point out, I’m always single when I need to have a woman on my arm.

  Zara turns to me with a glint in her whiskey-colored eyes. I can already tell that if I’m not careful, I could be opening myself up to a world of hurt. It takes everything in me to break eye contact with her and not reach out and hold her hand.

  “Follow me,” I say, tilting my head toward the hallway. Never in my life have I given another woman a tour of any home that I own. Iris helped design the house that I live in now, and I bought this one for the girls. I suppose it doesn’t help that I really never submerged myself into the dating scene.

  “This house is beautiful, Levi.”

  “Thank you. I think it’s rather small.”

  Zara shakes her head. “Nah, I love how wide and open everything is.”

  “So I think my mama just wanted us out of the kitchen. There really isn’t much to see,” I tell her as we walk down the hall toward the bedrooms. “This is Willow’s room.” I open the door to her bedroom and Zara walks in. Willow’s room is everything a pre-teen's room would be. It’s pink and girly with stuffed animals piled on her bed. There’s a corner dedicated to me, but either Zara doesn’t see it, or she’s already figured out who I am.

  “I take it Willow must be…”

  “My daughter.

  Zara steps in and turns in a slow circle. “I had a room like this when I was ten.”

  “That’s how old she is. As soon as we go outside, I’m sure you’ll meet her.” Zara tries and fails to mask her indifference about going outsid
e, which sort of boggles my mind. If she didn’t want to hang out with the crew, why is she here?

  We continue down the hall and go into Stormy’s room. Now that I know who Reverend Sister is, I’m slightly embarrassed to be showing her this room. Zara chuckles when she steps in and is immersed with pictures of herself.

  “She’s a fan,” I say, shrugging. When Stormy was told she would be in the video, she yelled at the top of her lungs, dancing around while her agent was on the phone trying to give her details. Luckily for her, I was able to gather all the information necessary otherwise she probably would’ve missed the show.

  “Levi Austin,” she says my name as if she’s out of breath or as if I’ve done something wrong. Zara is staring at one of the posters that Stormy has up in a montage of me. I’ve told the girls repeatedly that they didn’t need them, but they assured me it was their way of having me with them all the time. “This is you?” she asks, pointing at the larger than life picture of me on stage with my guitar.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, suddenly bashful about who I am.

  “I had no idea. I can honestly say I’ve never heard of you.”

  This should be an insult, but I don’t take it as one and tell her the same. “I had no idea who you were until today. I mean I’ve seen the posters and such, but never really paid attention.”

  “How famous are you?” she asks. I find the question odd, and my facial expression must tell her as such. “I mean… actually, I don’t know what I mean so just forget it.”

  I couldn’t if I tried. “In my world, pretty famous.”

  Her cheeks turn red as she looks away from me. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Why?” I ask, stepping into the room. “The way I see it, we’re in the same boat. I didn’t know you, and you didn’t know me.”