[Found in Oblivion 01.0 - 02.0] Bedded Trouble

by Cari Quinn

  Chloe’s heart stopped. Juliet? In the band?

  Memories from the show came back to her and he’d definitely been familiar with the girls. Maybe a bit more than that with Juliet, but he wouldn’t…

  Wouldn’t what? She didn’t know a damn thing about Michael Shawcross. He could be playing musical beds with every one of the women in his band for all she knew. It was none of her business.

  Umm, married?

  No. Not married. Accidentally legally bound.

  Her phone vibrated in her hand. She looked down automatically. Her dad, checking in for an arrival time. She’d forgotten to text him with all the eavesdropping. She opened the text and smiled for the first time since she’d sat down. A picture of Axl with his face covered in s’mores filled her screen.

  Definitely a keeper.

  She added it to her Axl folder and backed out to her main picture stream. Her thumb froze over the lock button. What the hell were those? She flicked over to the first picture from the night before. A candid shot of her and the girls at the show. A drunk selfie she’d taken of herself with the concert as her backdrop.

  She never took selfies—well, her and Axl smushed together in a picture didn’t count.

  She was actually wild and smiling with a crazy happy look on her face in the picture. She didn’t look tired for once. Actually, she was even semi-attractive.

  Was that who Michael had seen last night?

  She was so used to being seen as a mom, that the mere fact she’d looked like a young, carefree woman seemed more terrifying than the ring burning a hole in her pocket. That Chloe was trouble. She was the Chloe who stayed out all night with Snake and watched the dawn come up over the beach with an empty forty between them in the sand. She was the Chloe who lost days on a random cross country trip with Snake while he’d been on a coke-spree. And that Chloe had believed it was all right to live vicariously through him. She’d never been one to use. Instead her drug had been Snake.

  Not her life anymore.

  That Chloe had been replaced with a mother and a responsible member of society.

  She thumbed to the next picture. A close-up of her and Michael filled the screen. A light flashed behind them, leaving them both with the hint of a halo around their heads and a pure alcohol haze swimming in their eyes. Soft, hazy gazes brimming with fun.

  She pushed that picture away, only to find something even more damning.

  Her fingers laced on top of another hand. A hand she barely recognized save for the glittering gold band.

  She couldn’t forget that—nothing else made sense from last night, but that ring was clear as a freaking bell. She closed her photos folder and quickly texted her father their arrival time.

  “Who keeps texting you?”

  Chloe’s head popped up, but it was Lila talking to Nick again.

  Nick growled as his phone buzzed again. “Not important. I don’t even know why he’s freaking texting me, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Who?”

  “Michael.”

  Lila gave an exasperated sigh. “Did you check?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t even look to see what he wanted?” Lila turned in her seat. “It might be important.”

  “If it was important, he’d be texting you, not me. Unless…” Nick thumped his head against the seat. “Who did he fucking marry? I can’t even believe I’m asking this question. I don’t fucking care.”

  “Oh, you will.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His voice went up another decibel.

  Chloe’s shoulders bunched. She so didn’t want to be sitting through this. God, why hadn’t she moved earlier? This was what eavesdropping got a person. All of the truth no one wanted to hear.

  “She’s your little pet project.”

  “I have one pet, and he’s pain in the ass enough. Two if I have to count your cat.”

  “Let me see your phone.”

  Nick shoved it into his pocket. “No. Why is this a thing?”

  “It’s me.” Chloe wanted to slap her hands over her mouth, but she couldn’t listen anymore.

  Lila swung around and peeked over the top of the oversized seats. “You were here listening the whole time?”

  “The whole damn plane could hear you.” Chloe stood up and dragged her purse with her into the aisle. She was used to no one noticing her. Snake had always been loud and larger than life. She never really minded blending into the background.

  Until now. She was tired of no one seeing her.

  Of course she really didn’t want people to notice her like this. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her.

  “If you didn’t want me to know you were trash talking me then maybe you shouldn’t have opened your mouth.” Chloe couldn’t seem to get her own mouth to close as she loomed over Lila’s seat.

  If they wanted a show, they were going to get one.

  God, Lila didn’t even look embarrassed by it. She just lifted her chin. “I’m not saying anything other than the truth. Money has been a very real situation when it comes to you and my family.”

  “I never wanted any of it. Snake asked me to keep Nick in Axl’s life, and yes, I had to ask for money to help out until I got on my feet. Do you even know how hard that was for me?” Chloe pointed to Nick. “He’s the one who wouldn’t take the money back.”

  Nick’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing.

  Lila’s eyes went arctic. “And now you’re moving on to greener pastures. At least it’s a step up from your previous fiancé. But I will not have you derail my son’s career.”

  “I don’t want to be married to your son.” Chloe’s laughter sounded a little close to hysteria even to her own ears. “God, that’s even ridiculous to say. You’re barely a handful of years older than him.”

  “I watched him grow up.”

  “You were little more than a child when you married his father. Oh, and I do believe you married the great Martin Shawcross for his money and his status.” Chloe lowered her face to Lila’s. “So don’t speak to me like you’re better than me. At least I did whatever I’ve done for my child.”

  Lila’s huge blue eyes went even wider. Both of them had their hands fisted.

  Nick placed his hand on Lila’s shoulder. “Not that I wouldn’t like to see this play out into a fistfight—girl fights are hot—but let’s step back a minute here, huh?”

  Lila shook him off and stood until she and Chloe were toe-to-toe. “You are not going to ruin his life because of one stupid moment in Vegas.”

  Nick’s phone bleated out an annoying crash of notes before he must have hit ignore to cut it off.

  Chloe stepped back. “Finally, we can agree on one thing. You figure out a way to make this go away and I’ll sign whatever you want me to.”

  “Fine.” Lila’s shoulders heaved. “At least you can be sensible about one thing.”

  Nick’s phone went off again. Both women turned to him.

  Chloe bunched her fists around her purse. “Are you serious right now?”

  Nick shrugged. “Speak of the devil.” He answered the phone. “Not a good time, buddy. I have two women here who aren’t happy with you. One might even be contemplating putting a hit on you.”

  Lila held out her hand. “Is that Michael?”

  Nick shook his head. “Yeah, he doesn’t want to talk to you, Li.”

  “What?” Lila flipped her hair over her shoulder, visibly showing her agitation for the first time Chloe could remember.

  Chloe reached across and plucked the phone out of Nick’s hand.

  “Hey!” Nick tried to grab it back. “That’s mine.”

  Chloe marched down the aisle past a shocked Harper and Deacon and a smiling Simon with a bag of M&M’s in his hand.

  “Stop calling Nick, stop trying to call me. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to have anything to do with you, Michael Shawcross.”

  “Well, that’s too bad, Mrs. Shawcross. We have plenty to discuss.”

&n
bsp; His deep voice sent a thrill down her spine. The same feeling she remembered in a flash from the night before. Had he spoken the same way over her shoulder when she’d been dancing at the Foundation Room? Smoky and sultry with a hint of playfulness.

  A sudden and consuming anger burned through her. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that is never, ever my name.”

  “I do love when you snarl at me. Must be the red hair.”

  Her jaw literally dropped open. “This isn’t funny. Stop making jokes.”

  “Of course it’s not.” His voice instantly turned serious. “That’s why we need to talk.”

  “We don’t need to talk at all unless it’s across from a lawyer where I’m signing on the dotted line on annulment or divorce papers.” She hit the end button before he could talk.

  She couldn’t even see through the rage blurring her vision.

  “Okay, sweetie. Breathe.”

  Chloe’s eyes burned as Jazz’s soft voice came from behind her. Jazz laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and dislodged Nick’s phone from Chloe’s hand. She really couldn’t handle someone being kind to her right now. She’d just burst into a million pieces and cry until she couldn’t be put back together again.

  “Chloe, wait.”

  But she couldn’t. She broke free and headed to the front of the plane where the bathrooms were. She opened the door and slammed it closed, pulling over the lock lever. No way, no how could she face anyone. Not after she’d freaked out like that.

  Embarrassment didn’t even cover it.

  She had no idea how long she stayed in there. People walked by and voices picked up after a few minutes. She turned on the water and let the tap water flow over her wrists. Being in the service industry, and the mother to a toddler, left her rattled some days. Sometimes a little cool water over a pulse point kept her from completely losing her shit.

  She really, really needed that to work right now.

  The hum of the engine poured into her until she was numb.

  A light knock eventually broke her trance. “Miss. We have to prepare to land.”

  “I can’t come out there,” Chloe said through the door.

  The attendant was quiet for a moment, then spoke again. “You can sit up with me. How’s that?”

  Chloe swallowed down a lump. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Positive. I’ve got an extra seat away from the main cabin.”

  She peeked out the door. The woman’s kind face held no judgment.

  “Come on. Let me get you some water and we’ll get you home.”

  “Thanks.” Chloe slipped out the door and through the curtain to the small space where the drink and snack cart was tucked away. A little flip down seat flanked either side of the doorway with a lap belt tucked neatly to the side.

  She could definitely handle that.

  “Janice, right?”

  The woman smiled. “Right.” She handed Chloe a small bottle of water.

  “I’m sorry if I made a scene.”

  Janice shrugged. “That’s nothing. I’ve been taking care of these guys for years. You’ve got nothing on the antics I’ve seen.”

  Chloe’s lips twitched. “I bet.” She swallowed down most of the bottle. “I’m still going to stay back here if that’s okay.”

  “More than.”

  “Good.”

  Landing was a lot different when it came to private planes. There was no real wait once they were on the tarmac. Everyone disembarked in record time. Chloe tapped her fingers on her purse and texted to make sure her father was outside while she waited.

  “They’re gone,” Janice finally said.

  Chloe slipped her strap over her shoulder. “Everyone?”

  “Everyone.”

  She peeked around the curtain and sure enough, the plane was empty. Sun streaked in through the cabin windows and doorway. Her suitcase was waiting at the mouth of the stairs. She gave Janice a tight smile and escaped down the steps.

  It was a crystal clear day—well, as much as Los Angeles could be clear. But the haze wasn’t too bad that day. Along the edge of the private air strip, her father’s old Toyota was parked.

  Her father, who tended to be a little too thin no matter how much she fed him, stood with his fingers wrapped around her son’s hand. Axl was tugging to get free and pointing at a helicopter above them.

  Both of them had red hair, though her father’s was definitely fading to graying goose-down fluff as he headed toward fifty. He was wearing his usual uniform of baggy khakis and a ratty sweater over a simple white T-shirt. And her kid—her sweet, perfect kid—was wearing a Cookie Monster shirt and jeans with a blob of unknown origin on the hem.

  Finally, the helicopter had faded from sight enough that Axl noticed her walking across the pavement. He dragged her father behind him as they both raced to her.

  Chloe dropped her purse and suitcase and crouched down for the best hug in all the world. “Hey, kiddo. Mommy missed you.” She looked up at her father. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  Her dad tilted his head. “Everything okay?”

  “Right now, it is.” She covered the whorl of red hair that never seemed to sit right at the back of her son’s head and breathed him in. Fruit punch and baby shampoo. A damn fine combo as far as she was concerned.

  Axl wiggled away. “Did you see the chopter, mama?”

  “Chopper,” she corrected.

  “Chopter,” Axl said again.

  She laughed and dragged him back in for a hug. She buried her face in her son’s sweet-smelling neck. “I did see it.”

  “Can I have one?”

  Chloe slung her purse back over her shoulder and hauled him up to perch on her hip. “Not today, pal. We can go home and play with your Legos though.”

  “Deal. Home!”

  “Home,” she agreed.

  This was what mattered. Not her stupid marriage. That would have to work itself out.

  Right now, she had to worry about this little monster. He was everything.

  Fifteen

  A plan. Right. That was all Michael needed.

  Once he was conscious again.

  After his failure to extract Chloe’s number from Nick, Michael had conceded the field. Given up. Temporarily, of course, but a smart guy knew when to pull back and regroup.

  Of course the treads on his face from Chloe’s dismissal had sped up the retreating process, but he wasn’t one to point fingers.

  He dozed fitfully on the plane ride home, then went to his apartment and crawled into bed after taking a short, hot shower. He slept all day Monday, minus a few trips to piss and contemplate his shitty lot in life.

  All in all, it was easier to sleep.

  Tuesday, he woke up to discover the internet had exploded.

  Apparently, the lead guitarist of Warning Sign getting unexpectedly married the same weekend as his band’s triumphant concert was a big fucking deal.

  The Vegas part was icing.

  The fact that he’d married the fiancée of “a washed-up rocker who’d sued Oblivion before he’d either committed suicide or died by misadventure” made up the sugary roses.

  He wondered how long it would take them to realize his wife had ghosted on him without leaving a forwarding address.

  Forget address. He couldn’t even get her digits.

  The one thing in their favor was they’d been in the same circles for years. Someone might ostensibly believe they’d had some kind of meaningful interaction that could lead to marriage. Instead of, oh, not having any kind of contact other than his hiring a PI to take photos she’d inadvertently been a part of and possibly eating from the same bowl of peas at Thanksgiving.

  No, scratch that. He was almost positive she didn’t like peas, because there’d been a big brouhaha with her kid smearing them on the wall during the meal. See, there was one thing he knew about his wife.

  Strangers, pfft.

  He rolled out of bed and into the shower. Hard to see how he’d gotten d
irty from sleeping, but his body was sheened in perspiration. Christ, the dreams he’d had. More like nightmares. Ones about his mother’s wedding, where he’d given her away and turned around to see the audience was laughing at him. Pointing too.

  No wonder he’d sweated through his sheets. He hated weddings as a whole, and his mother’s were a special kind of hell.

  No wonder he’d blocked out the memory of his own ceremony. Who could blame him?

  He showered and was about to shave when he dropped his razor. He still had the cut on his hand from the other day, when he’d talked to Ryan after awakening to Tabitha in his bed. He’d thought his life was so difficult then.

  Right. His life had been a candy apple forest compared to the bullshit of being accidentally married, yet having no contact information for his wife.

  Fuck shaving. Fuck everything.

  He rubbed a hand over his scruffy chin and went back into the bedroom to grab his phone. Enough of this holding his ass crap. He’d just contact Jerzee, his old PI friend, and have him find out where Chloe lived—

  His gaze landed on his wallet. Shit, the license. He’d had a way to contact her all along, and he’d been too out of it to even realize.

  Yeah, he was never drinking again.

  He pulled out the piece of paper and scanned Chloe’s info. Then swore and pitched it aside.

  She’d listed her phone number as 1-800-Don’t-Know.

  “Goddammit.” He grabbed the paper again to scan the address section, knowing it was likely a futile enterprise. Everything for the past few days had been other than the concert. He couldn’t even remember if he’d managed to perform in bed.

  Maybe Chloe had run from him because she recalled more than she was letting on. Had he sucked in the sack? Maybe he’d been selfish and demanded a BJ without going down on her. Or perhaps he hadn’t done the whole clit thing during making love, because evidently, most chicks couldn’t come solely from penetration. So odd. If he was penetrated by a large dick, he’d come for sure.

  Yep, he was just going to leave that whole line of inquiry alone.

  His gaze zeroed in on the address line and he let out a long, slow breath. Holy fuck, she’d put down an actual address. Whether it was hers, he had no idea, but at least it seemed feasible. Carson, California. Where the hell was that? He was pretty sure it was a suburb of LA, and he had a fuzzy recollection that it wasn’t the most prosperous area.