“You are just perfect,” she breathed.
A giggle from Maureen made her look up in curiosity.
“Did you hear what you just said?” Maureen grinned. “You said ‘puh-fect.’ I think we’re finally starting to rub off on you.”
“She’s the wife of a British subject now.” Jay’s free arm hugged Katie’s shoulders. “It’s only right that she’s beginning to speak properly.”
Ignoring the tongue Katie stuck out at them, Maureen sighed. “I do wish you two would consider having another wedding so I could be there. I mean, really; getting married in Tupelo, Mississippi with some strangers pulled off the street for witnesses? I was counting on standing up with you, the way you did for us.”
“Hey, you don’t know the trouble I had convincing Jay we couldn’t get married at the Crossroads at midnight.” Katie cast a sideways glance at Jay, a soft smile of memory curving her lips.
“I still don’t know why we couldn’t.” Jay cocked an eyebrow at her. “That man at the catfish place said he was ordained to perform marriages.”
“Yeah, but I was afraid he wouldn’t be the only person — or thing — who’d show up to officiate.” Katie shuddered. “Y’all, it was spooky out there, especially with Jay standing in the middle of the road with his arms spread out like he was summoning something.”
Nicky snickered. “Nothing showed up, did it?”
“Nah,” Jay snorted. “I told you I was already a better guitar player than the devil. He just didn’t want me to show him up.”
A little sigh from Miranda directed Katie’s attention back to the bundle in her arms. “Your uncle Jay,” she informed the baby, “is a stubborn man. Beware of stubborn men because they’ll sweep you off your feet, take you to spooky places and make you think you like it.”
Maureen uttered a little moan of discomfort as she shifted position in her chair. Nicky glanced at her with concern. “Can I get you something, love?”
“No.” Maureen’s tone was curt and Katie repressed a sigh.
Though Maureen hadn’t gone into too much detail, Katie knew her friends had had a blazing row when Nicky returned from the States. The last trimester of the pregnancy had left Maureen irritable and bloated, her willowy figure all but obscured by a sudden weight gain and her mercurial temper exacerbated by hormone swings. When Nicky showed up looking healthy and fit, Maureen had snapped and thrown the rumors of his infidelity in his face. He had responded with typical male defiance, and even the birth of the twins hadn’t eased the strain between them.
Katie took note of Nicky’s lowering brow and the tightening of his mouth and decided retreat was in order.
“Maur, do you want the babies in the bassinette or in the crib?” She rose to her feet, careful not to jostle Miranda.
“The bassinette’s fine.” Maureen moved to get up and take Miranda, but Nicky got there first.
“Here, I’ll take her,” he murmured, and lifted the baby from Katie’s arms. Over his shoulder, Katie saw Maureen shoot him a black look as if he’d committed a major crime.
It was clear Jay had seen it, too; the speed from which he rose from the couch made it obvious he was anxious to leave before the fireworks began.
“Here, then.” He spoke to the top of the baby’s head. “I’ll just put you down with your sister and we’ll be off.”
While the two men tended to the babies, Katie knelt next to Maureen and took her hand. “Can I get you anything?”
Biting her lip, Maureen shook her head. “I’m fine.”
Katie glanced over at the bassinette. “He’s trying, Maur.”
“Mm. And they leave again in three weeks, you know.”
Silent, Katie squeezed her friend’s hand.
“Does it make a difference now you’re married?” Maureen’s voice was almost a whisper.
“Maybe.” Katie swallowed. “It’s … a new perspective, for sure.”
Maureen leaned forward and dropped her voice even lower. “I’ve told him that if things don’t change, then we’re through.”
Horror-stricken, Katie stared at her. “No,” she whispered.
“Yes.” Maureen firmed her trembling lips. “I can’t bear it, Katie. I won’t bear it.” She glanced over at Nicky and Jay and resumed a normal speaking voice. “So you got the information about placing the clothes in some of the stores in New York, then?”
Katie cleared her throat in an attempt to dislodge the lump that had formed there. “Yeah, I got it. So when do you want to get together with Steph and discuss it?”
“Next week will be fine, I think. And we can talk about Paris and New York, too.”
Katie grimaced. “Are you sure about that? I mean, you just had twins, and … ”
“I’m sure.” Maureen’s voice was resolute. “I want MKS to be a huge success and just because I have babies doesn’t mean I’m handicapped.”
“All right, then.” With a sigh, Katie got to her feet. As she gave Nicky a good-bye hug, she had to restrain herself from shaking him and telling him to get his head out of his ass before it was too late. Remembering the desolate look in Maureen’s eyes, though, she rather thought it already was.
• • •
Shadowed Knight’s third album, Press This, joined its predecessors by shooting straight to the top of the charts. Their European and American tours broke attendance records, and they should have been riding high. But the success they should have enjoyed during those whirlwind six months was taking its toll.
Maureen made good on her threat to Nicky by filing for divorce while the band was in the States, refusing any offers of reconciliation from her husband. She threw herself into her clothing line, and it grew with astonishing speed. Its success seemed to mollify her, and she and Stephanie spent long hours hard at work on their designs.
Though Katie was proud of what they’d accomplished, she grew restless. The business was taking up more time than she could have imagined and she started looking for a graceful way to get out. Her resolve was furthered by Jay’s stress. The band was back in the studio and things were not going well.
“This is going to be the worst record ever made if something doesn’t give.” Jay’s voice was muffled by the pillow in which his face was buried. He’d come home from the studio, headed directly for the bedroom, and had fallen face first onto the bed. “Nicky is going to drive me right round the bend.”
Katie crawled up next to him and ran her fingers through his hair. “He’s still not any better, is he?”
“Worse,” Jay muttered. “I know this divorce came out of nowhere, but … ”
“He knew,” Katie interrupted. She nodded as Jay looked up at her in surprise. “Maureen told him before you left for Copenhagen. She told him if things didn’t change, then she was going to divorce him.”
“What things?” Jay rolled over and bunched the pillow under his head. “Did she want him to stop touring? Is that it?”
“No.” Realizing they were about to venture into dangerous territory, Katie leaned against the headboard and appeared to find the wardrobe door of extreme interest.
“Then what?” Jay sounded frustrated. “If she didn’t want him to stay home and help take care of the children, what did she want?”
Katie cleared her throat. “It was the way he behaved on tour that was the problem. The, um … the groupies.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Katie felt her ears get hot. Heart pounding, she waited for Jay to speak.
Just when she thought he wasn’t going to, he ventured a quiet “Oh.”
Katie sighed. “She just couldn’t bear knowing he was … ” Though she wanted to see the effect her words had on Jay she still couldn’t look at him and kept her gaze on the cherry-stained wardrobe. “I told her once that it was just boredom, the, um, reason why y’all … do that. That it didn’t mean anything real.”
Jay drew in a sharp breath. “You told her that?”
“Yeah.” She found it necessary to clear her throat aga
in. “Before we were married. Now I’m not so sure.”
“No?”
Heat washed up into her cheeks. “No.” Her anger, kept on a tight leash, was straining to break loose. She clenched her fists, trying to hold it back. “I guess maybe I assumed it would be different now. When we weren’t married it didn’t seem so … I mean, I thought I could … Well, I have a new perspective now is all.”
“Actually,” he said, his voice flat, “you were right.”
Katie’s start of surprise jiggled the bed. “About what?”
“You were right on two counts. It was boredom. Then. Now it is different.”
“What are you telling me, Jay?” Her voice started to shake. “Are you telling me you don’t have sex with groupies anymore?”
He exhaled through his nose. “When you say ‘have sex’ it makes it sound as if there’s some sort of feeling there, like I care about them. There isn’t, and I don’t.”
“Jesus!” Katie sat up and raked her hair back with both hands. “What do you want me to call it? Fucking? Like that makes it better? Is that what makes it different?” She was only aware that she was still running her hands through her hair when a fingernail gouged her scalp. “I don’t understand, Jay; I really don’t. Am I not enough for you? Am I lacking in some area? Is that why you feel the need to fuck other women the minute we’re apart?”
“I do not fuck other women the minute we’re apart!” The low growl in which he spoke revealed he’d reached his breaking point. “In fact, since we got married, I haven’t been with very many others, not compared to how it was before.”
“Oh, thank you.” Katie’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “That makes me feel so much better.”
“Don’t push me, Katie. I feel bad enough as it is.”
“Do you? Do you really?”
“Yes, damn it! I do.” His voice rose a notch. “If I didn’t need to get rid of some of my frustrations, I wouldn’t do it at all. I’ve tried alcohol and I’ve tried drugs, but they didn’t work.”
She turned halfway and spoke over her shoulder, still unable to look at him. “Maybe you should try them again.”
“So you’d rather have me as a drunk or a drug addict. That’s just wonderful.” The level of sarcasm in his voice outdid her earlier outburst.
“I do not want you to be a drunk or an addict!” She flounced back against the headboard and the feel of the carved wood digging into her shoulder blades inflamed her further. “And I do not want to think about you sleeping with those skanks!”
“Then don’t, because I’m not sleeping with them.” He pounded a fist on the bed. “I’m using them as an outlet because if I don’t do something, I think I’m going to lose my fucking mind!”
“Oh, my God!” She finally turned to face him, wishing that looks could, in fact, kill. “So throw a television through a window, or ride a motorcycle into the swimming pool if you need an outlet. An outlet for what, for fuck’s sake?”
“For … for … Christ, Katie, I don’t know!” His face, full of bewilderment and anger, made her choke back a caustic reply. “Sometimes I think my head’s going to explode. It gets to the point where I have to physically stop myself from bashing Adam’s fucking face in!”
“What the hell does Adam have to do with anything?”
“The son of a bitch won’t leave off me. He keeps pushing and pushing, and he knows he’s getting to me and he just keeps doing it.” Jay closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his face.
Katie was still angrier than she’d been in a long time, but the plaintive note in his voice made her throttle it back. “Why is he pushing you?”
“Fuck knows, because I sure don’t. Probably because he can.” He sighed. “He wants to change the direction of the music, keeps coming up with these new tunes that sound more like The Archies than Shadowed Knight.”
She sat up again, this time in shock. “The Archies? Are you having me on? Adam?”
“I can understand that, at least. It’s because his voice just can’t cut it. Nicky and I have made him sound too good on the recordings, and he can’t do it that way live.” His mouth twisted in derision. “So he wants to play it safe by singing insipid pop because he can’t handle anything heavier. And Stuart isn’t helping.”
Katie shook her head. “You can’t tell me Stuart wants to play bubblegum pop.”
“No, but he’s all about synthesizers and making noises that come off like sound effects in a bad sci-fi flick.” He sighed. “Nicky’s all for it, too, going round and adding bass lines to whatever Stuart’s doing. No, it’s not pop, but it sure as hell ain’t rock ’n roll. Adding to all of this fun, there’s fucking Carlee.”
“Carlee?” Katie uttered the name of Adam’s wife with real loathing. “Where does she fit in to all of this?”
“Adam flew her out for our last five gigs, and … ”
Katie couldn’t stop herself from interrupting. “I’m surprised she didn’t just fly in on her own broom.”
The corners of Jay’s mouth twitched for a moment. “Appropriate. But there she was, swanning round and telling Adam to just go ahead and sing his new music during the show.” He grew quiet for a moment. “Katie,” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted to hit a woman, I mean really hit her, that badly.”
“If I’d been there I’d have done it for you. You should’ve called me.”
“I couldn’t.” He shook his head. “You were in Paris with Maureen and Stephanie.” His throat moved as he swallowed. “It’s just gotten so … so big. Sometimes I think it’s just too much. I miss the way it used to be when we were just starting out and playing all those little pubs all over the country. We enjoyed it then; it was fun. I wish it could be like that again. Or when … ” His lips curved in a wistful smile. “Remember in Mississippi when we stopped to eat in Rosedale? Those blokes were playing music, real music. Blues like I’d never heard it played before. I still can’t believe they let me sit in and jam with them.” He laughed under his breath. “I know they thought I was mad, this long-haired Englishman wanting to play the blues with them.”
Katie smiled at the memory. “You showed them, though, didn’t you? They were impressed as hell.”
“They were impressed with you, too. Once I’d finally got enough beer in you to convince you to sing, that is.” His smile broadened. “I’ll never forget you up there belting out ‘I Never Loved a Man.’”
“Well,” Katie mumbled. “I’m no Aretha.”
Jay made a rude noise. “You put Aretha to shame. Luther, that bloke who offered to marry us, told me if he hadn’t been looking at you he’d never have believed you were, as he put it, ‘a short little white lady.’ That’s what I want it to be like when I play. I want that feeling, that joy. But we’re part of the machine now and I don’t think we could ever get that back.”
Katie felt the last vestiges of her anger drain away. She knew what he meant. All she’d ever wanted was for things to be simple, but their lives were so far from that, she had a hard time remembering what simple was. With a sigh she leaned over and softly sang a bit of the chorus of Aretha’s song, reaffirming to herself as well as him that she’d never loved a man the way she loved Jay.
He lowered his arms and gazed at her, an unnatural shine in his eyes. “Do you love me, Katie? I don’t deserve it, but I really would lose my mind if I thought you didn’t.”
“I will always love you.” She laid a gentle hand against his cheek. “But, Jay, you really hurt me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” He put his hand over hers. “I knew you were aware of what went on, but since you never said anything I just assumed you were cool with it.”
Katie bit her bottom lip. “It’s always bothered me. But before we were married I didn’t really feel like I had the right to say anything, you know? I didn’t want you to think I was trying to change you or make you be someone you’re not.” She shrugged, uncomfortable with such a discussion. “I guess I just thought that once we were married you’d leave al
l that behind. I should have said something, though.”
Jay sat up and looped his arms around her neck. “Then it’s done, Katie. I won’t do it again.” He shook his head. “I don’t want us to end up like Nicky and Maureen. I can find another way to handle the pressure. From now on I’ll just toss televisions out of windows, all right?”
“I’ll pay for them,” she whispered and kissed him in forgiveness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
With an impatient sigh, Katie yanked the curtains closed, shutting out the view of the Eiffel Tower. It had ceased to charm her after her second trip to Paris with Maureen and Stephanie. This trip was especially bad since she knew Jay had played there two days before she arrived. She’d done her damnedest to get there early so she could see him, but some piddling little emergency at the warehouse where the clothes were stored had kept her in London.
Somehow, without her being aware of it, she’d become the “Ms. Fix-It” of MKS Design. Since the last innovative idea she’d had for clothes was that black lace dress, she wasn’t involved in the actual designing of the clothes. Everyone knew her sewing skills were almost nonexistent, so she wasn’t involved in constructing even the sample garments. No, she was stuck with the drudge work — hiring seamstresses, finding a building for the operations, going over financials with the accountant she’d hired and all the innumerable, picky, boring details of running a business.
Somewhere, June Cleaver was laughing.
Flopping down in a chair, she eyed the telephone with a pout. She’d spoken to Jay only once in two weeks and even then it was a short conversation. Maureen had been hovering over her shoulder, impatient for her attention, a squalling Miranda had been brought into the room by her nanny and Stephanie had showed up in a panic because a fabric shipment had been sent to New York instead of London. After being interrupted every few seconds, Jay had snapped.
“Fuck’s sake, Katie! Go deal with whatever it is you have to deal with and forget about me. I’ll see you in Paris.”
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