Lick: Stage Dive 1

by Scott, Kylie

  “Alright.”

  David sucked in his cheeks and nodded. He had killer cheekbones. I’d seen men in fashion magazines that couldn’t have compared. But pretty or not, the frown never lifted. Not while I was around. It would have been nice to see him smile, just once.

  “You need anything?” he asked.

  “No. Thank you for all this. For flying me down here and letting me stay. It’s very kind of you.”

  “No worries.” He took a step back and started closing the door after him. “Night.”

  “David, shouldn’t we talk or something? About last night?”

  He paused, half hidden behind the door. “Seriously, Ev. Why fucking bother?”

  And he was gone.

  Again.

  No door slam this time. I counted that as a step forward in our relationship. Being surprised was stupid. But disappointment held me still, staring around the room, seeing nothing. It wasn’t that I suddenly wanted him to fall at my feet. But antipathy sucked.

  Eventually I wandered back over to the window. The lovers were gone, the pool now empty. Another couple stumbled along the lit garden path, beneath the huge swaying palm trees. They headed toward what had to be the pool house. The man was David and Bikini Girl hung off him, swishing her long hair and swaying her hips, working it to the nth degree. They looked good together. They fit. David reached out and tugged on the tie of her bikini top, undoing the neat bow and baring her from the waist up. Bikini Girl laughed soundlessly, not bothering to cover herself.

  I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the rock in my throat. Jealousy felt every bit as bad as antipathy. And I had no damn right to be jealous.

  At the door to the pool house David paused and looked back over his shoulder. His eyes met mine. Oh, shit. I ducked behind the curtain and idiotically held my breath. Caught spying—the shame of it. When I checked a moment later they were gone. Light peeked out from the sides of the curtains in the pool house. I should have brazened it out. I wished I had. It wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong.

  The immaculate grandeur of the white room spread out before me. Inside and out I felt a mess. The reality of my situation had apparently sunk in, and what a clusterfuck it was. Lauren had been right on with the word choice.

  “David can do what he wants.” My voice echoed through the room, startlingly loud even over the thumping of the music downstairs. I straightened my shoulders. Tomorrow I would meet with his people and the divorce would be sorted. “David can do what he wants and so can I.”

  But what did I want to do? I had no idea. So I unpacked my few items of clothing, settling in for the night. I hung David’s T-shirt over a towel rail to finish drying. It was probably going to be needed for sleep wear. Organizing myself took five minutes, max. You could only refold a couple of tank tops so many ways before you just looked pathetic.

  What now?

  I hadn’t been invited to the party downstairs. No way did I want to think about what might be happening in the pool house. Doubtless David was giving Bikini Girl everything I’d wanted in Vegas. No sex for me. Instead, he had sent me to my room like a naughty child.

  What a room it was. The adjoining bathroom had a tub larger than my bedroom back home. Plenty of space to splash around. It was tempting. But I never had been much good at getting sent to my room. On the few occasions it happened at home I used to climb out the window and sit outside with a book. As rebellions went it lacked a lot, but I’d been satisfied. There was a lot to be said for being a quiet achiever.

  Screw staying in the room of splendor. I couldn’t do it.

  No one noticed me as I crept back down the stairs. I slunk into the closest corner and settled in to watch the beautiful people at play. It was fascinating. Bodies writhed on an impromptu dance floor in the middle of the room. Someone lit up a cigar nearby, filling the air with a rich, spicy scent. Puffs of smoke billowed up toward the ceiling, a good twenty feet above. Diamonds glittered and teeth sparkled, and that was just some of the men. Open opulence fought grunge among the mixed crowd. You couldn’t get better people-watching if you tried. No sign of Mal, sadly. At least he’d been friendly.

  “You’re new,” a voice said from beside me, startling the crap out of me. I jumped a mile, or at least a few inches.

  A man in a black suit lounged against the wall, sipping a glass of amber liquor. This slick black suit was something else. In all likelihood Sam’s had come off the rack, but not this one. I’d never understood the appeal of a suit and tie before, but this man wore them incredibly well. He looked to be about David’s age and he had short dark hair. Handsome, of course. Like David, he had the whole divine cheekbones thing going on.

  “You know, if you move another foot over you’ll disappear entirely behind that palm.” He took another sip of his drink. “Then no one would see you.”

  “I’ll give it some thought.” I didn’t bother denying I was in hiding. Apparently it was already obvious to all.

  He smiled, flashing a dimple. Tommy Byrnes had dimples. He’d inured me to their power. The man leaned closer, so as to be heard more easily over the music, most likely. The fact that he backed it up by taking a decent-sized step toward me seemed unnecessary. Personal space was a wonderful thing. Something about this guy gave me the creeps, despite the swanky suit.

  “I’m Jimmy.”

  “Ev.”

  He pursed his lips, staring at me. “Nope, I definitely don’t know you. Why don’t I know you?”

  “You know everyone else?” I surveyed the room, highly dubious. “There are a lot of people here.”

  “There are,” he agreed. “And I know them all. Everyone except you.”

  “David invited me.” I didn’t want to drop David’s name but I was being pushed into a corner, figuratively and literally as Jimmy closed in on me.

  “Did he now?” His eyes looked wrong, the pupils pinpricks. Something was wrong with this guy. He stared down at the small amount of cleavage I had on display like he intended to plant his face there.

  “Yeah. He did.”

  Jimmy didn’t exactly seem pleased by the news. He threw back his drink, finishing it off in one large mouthful. “So, David invited you to the party.”

  “He invited me to stay for a few days,” I said, which was not a lie. Happily, hopefully, he had somehow missed the news about David and me. Or maybe he was just too stoned to put two and two together. Either way, I wasn’t filling him in.

  “Really? That was nice of him.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “What room did he put you in?” He stood in front of me and dropped his empty glass into the pot plant with a careless hand. His grin looked manic. My need to get away from him gained immediate urgency.

  “The white one,” I said, looking for a way around him. “Speaking of which, I’d better get back.”

  “The white room? My, my, aren’t you special.”

  “Aren’t I just? Excuse me.” I pushed past him, giving up on social niceties.

  He mustn’t have expected it because he stumbled back a step. “Hey. Hold up.”

  “Jimmy.” David appeared, earning my instant gratitude. “There a problem here?”

  “Not at all,” said Jimmy. “Just getting to know … Ev.”

  “Yeah, well, you don’t need to know … Ev.”

  The guy’s smile was expansive. “Come on. You know how I like pretty new things.”

  “Let’s go,” David said to me.

  “It’s not like you to cock-block, Davie,” said Jimmy. “Didn’t I see the lovely Kaetrin with you earlier out on the balcony? Why don’t you go find her, get her to do what she’s so damn good at? Me and Ev are busy here.”

  “Actually, no, we’re not,” I said. And why was David back so soon from his playtime with Bikini Girl? He couldn’t possibly have been concerned about his little wife’s wellbeing, surely.

  Neither of them appeared to have heard me.

  “So you invited her to stay in my house,” said Jimmy.
<
br />   “I was under the impression Adrian rented the place for all of us while we’re working on the album. Something changed I don’t know about?”

  Jimmy laughed. “I like the place. Decided to buy it.”

  “Great. Let me know when the deal’s going through and I’ll be sure to get out. In the meantime, my guests are none of your business.”

  Jimmy looked at me, face alight with malicious glee. “It’s her, isn’t it? The one you married, you stupid son of a bitch.”

  “Come on.” David grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the stairwell. His jaw was clenched tight enough to make a muscle pop out on the side.

  “I could have had her against a wall at a fucking party and you married her?”

  Bullshit he could have.

  David’s fingers squeezed my hand tight.

  Jimmy chortled like the cretin he was. “She is nothing, you sorry fuck. Look at her. Just look at her. Tell me this marriage didn’t come courtesy of vodka and cocaine.”

  It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. Well, apart from the marriage reference. But his words still bit. Before I could tell Jimmy what I thought of him, however, the iron-hard hold on my hand disappeared. David charged back to him, grabbing hold of his lapels. They were pretty evenly matched. Both were tall, well built. Neither looked ready to back down. The room hushed, all conversation stopping, though the music thumped on.

  “Go for it, little brother,” hissed Jimmy. “Show me who the star of this show really is.”

  David’s shoulders went rigid beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt. Then with a snarl he released Jimmy, shoving him back a step. “You’re as bad as Mom. Look at you, you’re a fucking mess.”

  I stared at the two of them, stunned. These two were the brothers in the band. Same dark hair and handsome faces. I clearly hadn’t married into the happiest of families. Jimmy looked almost shamefaced.

  My husband marched back past me, collecting my arm along the way. Every eye was on us. An elegant brunette took a step forward, hand outstretched. Distress lined her lovely face. “You know he doesn’t mean it.”

  “Stay out of it, Martha,” said my husband, not slowing down at all.

  The woman shot me a look of distaste. Worse yet, of blame. With the way David was acting, I had a bad feeling that was going around.

  Up the steps he dragged me, then down the hallway toward my room. We said nothing. Maybe this time he’d lock me in. Jam a chair under the door handle, perhaps. I could understand him being mad at Jimmy. That guy was a dick of epic proportions. But what had I done? Apart from escaping my plush prison, of course.

  Halfway along the long hallway I liberated my limb from his tender care. I had to do something before he cut off the blood supply to my fingers.

  “I know the way,” I said.

  “Still wanna get some, huh? You should have said something, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” he said with a false smile. “And hey, you’re not even shit-faced tonight. Chances are you’d remember.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Something I said untrue?”

  “No. But I still think it’s fair to say you’re being an ass.”

  He stopped dead and looked at me, eyes wide, startled if anything. “I’m being an ass? Fucking hell, you’re my wife!”

  “No, I’m not. You said so yourself. Right before you went off to play in the pool house with your friend,” I said. Though he hadn’t stayed long in the pool house, obviously. Five, six minutes maybe? I almost felt bad for Bikini Girl. That wasn’t service with a smile.

  Dark brows descended like thunderclouds. He was less than impressed. Bad luck. My feelings toward him were likewise at an all-time low.

  “You’re right. My bad. Should I take you back to my brother?” he asked, cracking his knuckles like a Neanderthal and staring back down the hallway from where we’d come.

  “No, thank you.”

  “That was real nice making fuck-me eyes at him, by the way. Out of everyone down there, you had to be flirting with Jimmy,” he sneered. “Classy, Ev.”

  “That’s honestly what you think was happening?”

  “What with you and him getting all fucking cozy in the corner?”

  “Seriously?”

  “I know Jimmy and I know girls around Jimmy. That’s definitely what it looked like, baby.” He held his arms out wide. “Prove me wrong.”

  I wasn’t even certain I knew how to make fuck-me eyes. But I definitely hadn’t been making them at that tool downstairs. No wonder so many marriages ended in divorce. Marriage sucked and husbands were the worst. My shoulders were caving in on me. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so small.

  “I think your brother issues might be even worse than your wife issues, and that’s saying something.” Slowly, I shook my head. “Thank you for offering me the opportunity to defend myself. I really appreciate it. But you know what, David? I’m just not convinced your good opinion is worth it.”

  He flinched.

  I walked away before I said something worse. Forget anything amicable. The sooner we were divorced, the better.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sunlight poured in through the windows when I woke the next morning. Someone was hammering on the door, turning the handle, trying to get in. I’d locked it after the scene with David last night. Just in case he was tempted to return to trade some more insults with me. It had taken me hours to get to sleep with the music thrumming through the floor and my emotions running wild. But exhaustion won out in the end.

  “Evelyn! Hello?” a female voice yelled from out in the hallway. “Are you in there?”

  I crawled across the ginormous bed, tugging on the hem of David’s T-shirt. Whatever he’d used to wash it in Vegas, it didn’t smell of puke. The man had laundry skills. Fortunate for me, because apart from my dirty party dress and a couple of tops, I had nothing else to wear.

  “Who is it?” I asked, yawning loudly.

  “Martha. I’m David’s PA.”

  I cracked open the door and peered out. The elegant brunette from last night stared back at me, unimpressed. From being made to wait or the sight of my bed hair, I didn’t know. Did everyone in this house look like they’d just slunk off the cover of Vogue? Her eyes turned into slits at the sight of David’s shirt.

  “His representatives are here to meet with you. You might want to get your ass into gear.” The woman spun on her heel and strode off down the hallway, heels clacking furiously against the terracotta tiled floor.

  “Thanks.”

  She didn’t acknowledge me, but then, I didn’t expect her to. This part of LA was clearly a colony for ill-mannered douches. I rushed through a shower, pulled on my jeans and a clean T-shirt. It was the best I could do.

  The house stayed silent as I rushed down the hallway. There were no signs of life on the second level. I’d slapped on a little mascara, tied my wet hair back in a ponytail, but that was it. I could either hold people up or go without make-up. Politeness won. If coffee had been in the offering, however, I’d have left David’s representatives hanging for at least two cups. Running on zero caffeine seemed suicidal given the stressful circumstances. I hurried down the stairs.

  “Ms Thomas,” a man called, stepping out of a room to the left. He wore jeans and a white polo shirt. Around his neck sat a thick, gold chain. So who was this? Another of David’s entourage?

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  “It’s fine.” He smiled, but I didn’t quite believe him despite the big white teeth. Nature had clearly played no part in his teeth or tan. “I’m Adrian.”

  “Ev. Hello.”

  He swept me into the room. Three men in suits sat waiting at an impressively long dining table. Overhead, another crystal chandelier sparkled in the morning light. On the walls were beautiful, colorful paintings. Originals, obviously.

  “Gentlemen, this is Ms Thomas,” Adrian announced. “Scott Baker, Bill Preston and Ted Vaughan are David’s legal representatives. Why don’t you sit here, Ev?”

>   Adrian spoke slowly, as if I were a feebleminded child. He pulled a chair out from the table for me directly opposite the team of legal eagles, then walked around to sit on their side. Wow, that sure told me. The lines had been drawn.

  I rubbed my sweaty palms on the sides of my jeans and sat up straight, doing my best not to wilt beneath their hostile gazes. I could definitely do this. How hard could it be to get a divorce, after all?

  “Ms Thomas,” the one Adrian had identified as Ted started. He pushed a black leather folder full of papers toward me. “Mr Ferris asked us to draw up annulment papers. They’ll cover all issues, including details of your settlement from Mr Ferris.”

  The size of the stack of papers before me was daunting. These people worked fast. “My settlement?”

  “Yes,” Ted said. “Rest assured Mr Ferris has been very generous.”

  I shook my head in confusion. “I’m sorry. Wha—”

  “We’ll deal with that last,” Ted rushed on. “You’ll notice here that the document covers all conditions to be met by yourself. The main issues include your not speaking to any member of the press with regard to this matter. This is non-negotiable, I’m afraid. This condition remains in force until your death. Do you fully understand the requirement, Ms Thomas? Under no circumstances may you talk to any member of the press regarding Mr Ferris in any way while you’re alive.”

  “So I can talk to them after I die?” I asked with a weak little laugh. Ted was getting on my nerves. I guess I hadn’t gotten enough sleep after all.

  Ted showed me his teeth. They weren’t quite as impressive as Adrian’s. “This is a very serious matter, Ms Thomas.”

  “Ev,” I said. “My name is Ev and I do realize the seriousness of this issue, Ted. I apologize for being flippant. But if we could get back to the part about the settlement? I’m a little confused.”

  “Very well.” Ted looked down his nose at me and tapped a thick, gold pen on the paperwork in front of me. “As I said, Mr Ferris has been very generous.”

  “No,” I said, not looking at the papers. “You don’t understand.”