Famous Love
Page 8
Still, sitting in the back corner of the coffee shop, I wonder if I made the right decision by asking Zara to coffee. Even with her immediate response of yes, I’m still second-guessing everything every time the door chimes bang against the glass as the door is pushed open, only to have this instant let down that she hasn’t shown up yet. And still my heart picks up pace when I see someone with platinum hair walking by the window, only to notice that the purple on the end is missing. My leg bounces anxiously each time I check the time, only to realize that I am very early and she still has five minutes until our set meeting time.
Of course, I start thinking about what happens when she doesn’t show. Do I text her again? Call her? Walk out of here with my tail between my legs and tell myself I gave it the ole Boy Scout try?
Or do I get all excited and embrace my rapidly beating heart and sweaty palms as she stalks toward me with a smile so bright that it could light up Music Row? What I end up doing is stumbling over the leg of the table, jabbing my thigh and biting my tongue to keep from crying out as I walk toward her to give her a kiss on the cheek. I’m as smooth as they come, I tell ya.
“Are you okay?” she asks. I’m slightly embarrassed that she saw my epic blunder. I nod as casually as possible and take a few deep breaths, hoping to push away the throbbing pain in my leg. I pull out her chair and wait for her to sit down before I gingerly return to my seat. Zara is dressed as inconspicuously as possible. Her long hair is hidden under a beanie and the make-up she wore yesterday is nothing like what she has one now. The bold, vibrant colors are gone and replaced by subtlety. She looks angelic and completely different than the woman I met yesterday, and I have a feeling that I like both.
“I wish I could say I’m as graceful as Stormy when she dances, but that would be a fib.”
Zara laughs, and the sound shoots straight to my heart. I like the way it makes me feel and have a feeling that I may be blushing. “It’s something I’ve done many times, and I’m sure it’ll happen again,” she says, trying to ease my awkwardness. She doesn’t, but I don’t let on. I have a feeling anything that she does, is done so with as much elegance as humanly possible.
“What can I get ya to drink?” I ask her, and as I do, I find myself leaning forward so that we’re closer.
“Just black.”
“Really?” I’m slightly shocked by this. “None of that fancy crap women are always drinking?”
Zara shakes her head and in the process pulls her lower lip between her teeth briefly. “Too much sugar and it seems so unnatural. I never go into the trend of drinking coffee like that.”
“Two black coffees it’ll be. I’ll be right back.”
As I stand in line, I casually glance at her to see what she’s doing. I figured she’d pull out her phone to pass the time, but she doesn’t. Her hands are folded and resting on the table, and she’s watching me. I keep my eyes on her, trying to figure out why I’m so drawn to her until the woman behind me asks me to step forward because I’m next in line. I place my order and step aside, casually looking back at where Zara is sitting, but turning away before she can see me gawking at her.
With two cups of hot coffee in hand, I carefully make my way back to our small table. I’m pleasantly surprised that there isn’t a line in front of her asking for her autograph. Last night after she left, Stormy and Willow filled me in on how insanely popular she was and how I was way out of her league, not to mention that she was married to her high school sweetheart and I’d never stand a chance. I didn’t bother filling the girls in about Zara’s marital woes because it’s not my place nor did I tell them their daddy is fairly popular on the country music scene and that if we were back in Nashville things would be different. I just let them go on thinking that I’m ordinary. I suppose to them I am because I’m their daddy and they don’t see me the same way they see Zara.
“Here ya go,” I say as I set her mug down. She wraps her hands around the ceramic and pulls it toward her, bending her head slightly. “Smell good?” I ask as I sit down.
“Very. This is my favorite place.”
“It’s my first time here. Tell me why you like it.” I change the way I’m sitting so that I’m somewhat closer to her. I don’t know if I’m flirting or not. Or whether I should even let that word into my thoughts. I know she’s not ready to be hit on, but I can’t help myself.
“They don’t allow paparazzi in here or allow them to take pictures through the windows.”
“Are you bothered a lot by the media?” I ask.
Zara shrugs. “Sometimes. Right now I’m top news because of what Van did, but normally they take my picture if they see me shopping or something. Right now they’re camped out in front of my house, making me miserable.”
“I’m sorry.”
She smiles softly. “It’s not like that for you in Nashville?”
I sit back and fiddle with the handle on my mug. “Life in Tennessee is laid back. If I’m walkin’ down the street, people say hey like we’ve been friends for years. The paparazzi really don’t bother us unless there’s somethin’ big going on. Plus it probably helps that I live on over twenty acres of land away from everyone else.”
“Wow, that must be so nice. The solitude.”
“Or it’s borin’. Honestly, unless I’m on tour my life is fairly monotonous. I eat, sleep, write, and record. I rarely leave my land.”
“Do you have horses? I’ve always wanted to ride one.”
“I do. Want to take a trip to Nashville and learn to ride?” I look away quickly and wish I could take my question back. To avoid looking at her, I pick up my mug and take a drink, wishing I were anywhere but here right now. The last thing I want to do is put her in a position to turn me down or find some excuse as to why she can’t randomly take a trip to Nashville.
“I’d actually like that, Levi. I like the idea of getting away where no one would bother me, where I could walk outside and not worry about the paparazzi hiding behind my bushes to take my photos.” She too picks up her mug and drinks, almost as if she’s avoiding my response.
“As I told you last night, I’m here, Zara.”
“When can we leave?” she asks, throwing me off a bit.
“Um…”
Zara looks around before she leans closer and motions for me to do the same. “Here’s the thing. Van told me last night that he’s about to enter some rehab for sex addicts and I’d really like to disappear when he does that. I don’t want to be here when that happens. I don’t want the press hounding me for a reaction nor do I want to have to deal with my label. I want to disappear,” she says barely above a whisper.
As much as I want to tell her that we can leave in an hour, I can’t do that to the girls. I promised them we’d wait until school was out before I made them go back to Nashville.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m overstepping.”
“You’re not,” I say as I reach for her hand. Once again, I rest mine on top of hers for a brief second, hoping to convey that I’m okay with her asking to go to my place in Nashville.
“Maybe I’m the one overstepping,” I tell her. “I assumed you’d want me to go with you and right now I can’t leave because I promised the girls that I’d let them finish out the school year. Believe me; I would love to get the hell out of Hollywood and be back on my ranch.”
“I expected you to go with me,” she tells me with a smile, and now I feel like she’s flirting with me, but I know better.
“I want too, but Stormy and Willow…”
“I understand, Levi. But if I disappear know that I’ll be back after he’s out of rehab.”
I don’t want her to disappear. I know I’ve only known her for two days but can’t imagine not seeing her a few times a week, even if it’s only for coffee.
“Let me talk to my ma and see if she doesn’t mind staying with the girls for a bit. We can fly to Nashville, and once I have you set up on the ranch, I can come back. I’ll let you know later today. Is that okay?”
“I apologize now if they take your photo.”
“I’m used to it,” I tell her as I pull my cap lower. She does the same with her hat and takes off toward the park with me by her side. We get about ten feet away before her name is being called and a slew of questions are being tossed her way, asking about Van, their divorce and whether they’ll reconcile. She just walks faster and keeps her head down. I realize how bad it must be for her, especially with everything that is going on her with husband.
Chapter 13
Zara
Walking side by side with Levi through the park is refreshing. It’s a change of pace from my normal everyday routine. With Van, everything was about making sure we were getting the attention we deserved. I think some of that stemmed from Laura and her desire to have her clients the center of attention. That works for Van, but not me. I’ve always been the reserved one, the one to hide in the shadows or wear a disguise, which makes being out here with Levi so different. I knew the second that he pulled his hat down that he likes it this way too. That he, like me, prefers anonymity while trying to be normal.
Reporters have often commented on me being an introvert, asking why I shy away from the spotlight. I’ve never considered myself to be anything other than outgoing. Just because I want some normalcy in my life outside of my job doesn’t mean I suffer from any form of social anxiety. There are days when I like to shut everything down and be “off.” To not have to worry if my make-up is perfect or if my hair is out of place.
Levi stops and tilts his head back, letting the sun beat down on his face. There was a time when I used to lay out in my backyard and tan, but those days are long gone. It’s not that I’m afraid of the sun, it’s because the label wants me to keep a certain image. They like the porcelain skin look, and it’s my job to make sure I bathe in sunblock daily. Of course, I’ll reap the benefits when I’m sixty and still look like I’m twenty, but I do miss the tan lines I used to have.
Every so often Levi’s hand will brush against my arm, or I’ll find a reason to place my hand on his forearm to show him something rather ridiculous along the trail. I pretend to be taken by a bird or flower, hoping he can’t see through my bullshit because I haven’t a clue as to what I’m talking about. I’ve always lived in the city and am probably making a fool out of myself by pointing out naturist things that he likely already knows about. I can’t even explain why I’m doing this because I am nowhere near interested in anything with him other than friendship, but everything with him seems natural and touching him seems like the right thing to do.
The fact that he’s offered to take me to Nashville is monumental not only because he’s helping me out, but also because he’s taking time away from his children. When he told me that he made a promise to his girls, my heart swelled. My dad used to do that; he’d make promises and follow through with them until one day he decided I was no longer worth his words.
When I was little, I thought I had the best dad in the world. One of my favorite things was to build the most elaborate sand castle we could think of, or he’d have me ride on his shoulders when we went to the county fair. There was a certain joy in being taller than everyone else; being able to see what was ahead without having to look through the gaps between bodies. Or knowing that because my dad was an architect, I would always have the most outlandish castle on the beach.
I don’t remember exactly when everything changed and he went from being the best to just being someone that came home late every night or sometimes not at all. I do remember the nights that my mom would pace in front of the window, waiting for the headlights from his car to shine through. She would weep silently but mask her emotions the second he walked in the door. My parents would never fight in front of Darian and me; they’d never raise their voices either. I think now that I look back on it and try to compare what my father did to what Van did, there were signs that I should’ve known something had changed with my dad, but I was too young to understand what they meant. Sometimes he tried too hard, forcing Darian and me to hang out with him. With Van, there was nothing.
Levi is putting his daughters before everything else, and that is what stands out to me the most. My father didn’t. He chose his mistress over his own family. He walked out and never turned around to say goodbye even with Darian and I crying at the window. If it weren’t for our mother, I don’t think we’d be where we are today. She guided us, believed in us. She’s our number one fan.
There aren’t too many parents in the industry that put their children first. They depend on nannies to take care of their children. It’s refreshing to see that Levi does, which makes me what to tell him that he should stay with his girls and I’ll be fine, but there’s a part of me that wants him to show me around Nashville, and that part makes me seem selfish.
When Levi stops to take a picture of a shrub that is in full bloom with various flowers I can’t help but giggle.
“What’s so funny?” he asks as he pockets his phone.
“That’s like the tenth photo you’ve taken since we started walking. Why do you keep taking so many?”
He shrugs and looks away. I immediately feel like crap for embarrassing him. “I’m sorry,” I say to him. “I was only curious.”
“It’s probably stupid, but I thought if I could plant some of these around my house, the girls will feel more at home and not pressure me to move to Los Angeles.”
I think I am officially feeling emotions that I shouldn’t right now. Not only am I mesmerized by his accent, but the fact that he’s willing to try to make his home more like this park, for his girls, really has my heart racing a bit faster than it should be.
“That’s probably the nicest thing I have ever heard someone say.”
Levi smiles. It’s not one of those ear-to-ear ones, but the cock-eyed grin that is meant to knock a woman’s socks off. I quickly look down at my red painted toes and laugh. It’s probably a good thing I’m wearing flip-flops because my normal combat boot attire probably wouldn’t feel very good on my bare feet.
“You’re a good man, Levi Austin,” I add to curb the pregnant pause that is happening between us.
“You don’t know me that well. You may change your mind after we get to Nashville,” he says as he steps closer. If I were the right frame of mind I would move toward him and maybe reach up and kiss him, but that isn’t me nor do I see myself doing that anytime soon. What Van has done… it’s going to live with me a long time. Having someone break your trust like that isn’t going to be easy to overcome.
To anyone walking by we probably look like a couple about to fall in love. To me, I see two people who met by chance with one of us trying to pick up the shattered pieces of his children’s hearts and the other completely broken. I guess that is the beauty of perception.
“I should go,” he says, breaking the warming tension between us. I automatically step back even though I hadn’t moved an inch. “I want to talk to my ma about the girls.”
“If it’s too much trouble, Cabo will accept me,” I tell him, wanting him to know that I have other alternatives, which honestly is what I should do. I shouldn’t be asking a man I just met to whisk me away from his family in their time of need when I’m perfectly capable of hiding out on my own.
“If I didn’t want to take you to my ranch, I would’ve told you no,” he says, closing the gap between us. My reflexes take over, and I launch myself into his arms. It takes him a moment before he’s cocooned me to his chest. It feels nice, but a bit overwhelming, to be hugging a man other than Darian or Van. But the difference is good. It’s welcoming.
“Thank you, Levi.”
“You’re welcome, Zara.”
We both pull away and shyly straighten our clothes. Not that they’re rumpled, but more out of awkwardness.
“I’ll ca
ll you in a bit,” he tells me. “I’ll have my publicist charter a flight, so no one knows you’re leaving.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do,” he says with a grin. “Wait for my call.” He turns, leaving me standing on the edge of the pathway as I watch him walk away. Not once or twice, but three times I catch him looking over his shoulder at me until he disappears out of sight.
I find the nearest bench and sit, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. Joggers run by. Mom groups with strollers power walk by, chatting animatedly among themselves, unaware and not caring, that I’m sitting on the bench here. That is why I like this park. No one cares who you are. To them you’re just another person, enjoying the beauty of nature.
My eyes focus on the ground, as I get lost in my thoughts. My mind drifts to the day that I caught Van and the assistant going at it. The scene plays out like a techni-color dream, followed by him and Laura, even though those are completely made-up. I can’t help but picture him with every female I know after that. My stomach lurches and tears fall down my cheeks, but my heart doesn’t ache. The burn I had before is gone. I am angry though. I’m so pissed at Laura and her assistant for putting me through this. It’s not like they didn’t know he was married. Even if he came onto them, they should’ve said no.
But they wouldn’t. That doesn’t happen here. Everyone is out for themselves. Anything they can do to advance their career or social status. They don’t care who gets hurt in the process. I bury my head in the gap between my legs and chest and let the tears flow. Crying is supposed to be therapeutic, and maybe it is. This could be my way of purging Van from my system so I can move on.
I hadn’t thought about moving on until now. There are things I want out my life and children is one of them. I’ve always seen myself as a mother, and if it’s not going to be Van creating a family with me, there will be a man out there worthy enough of my love.