At This Moment

by Karen Cimms

  “She said if she could get clean, she could take care of herself, maybe even help me out. Not that I needed it. It was just nice knowing she wanted to. I had a free ride to KU, plus I played in a band. The money I made helped pay for extras. And I still had the money my grandmother left me. Of course she knew that.”

  He reached for his wine.

  “You don’t have to tell me any of this.” He felt her words against his neck, soft as a kiss.

  “Yes, I do.” He emptied the glass, then refilled it.

  “I gave her everything. Every last dime. She promised she’d pay it all back as soon as she could, and I believed her. My mom had been a nurse. I didn’t know it at the time, but she’d lost her license for stealing drugs from patients.”

  “That’s awful.”

  He nodded. “When I went to pick her up at the motel that afternoon, she was gone. Checked out that morning, before I even gave her the money. She took every cent I had and disappeared. I quit school that day, pawned what I could, and headed east. I slept in the van behind a bar in Jersey City. I washed dishes during the day and played at night until I had enough money for an apartment.”

  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the warm breath against his neck as the scent of sweet orange curled around him.

  “What about your father?”

  He paused, weighing his words. “I can’t, babe. I’m sorry. Let’s just say he was an evil bastard. Unfortunately, I inherited his temper. Other than that, I don’t want to talk about him.”

  Gray dusk filtered in through the window, casting shadows on the half-packed boxes. Kate moved so he could see her face. In spite of the fading light, he saw the pain in her eyes. He’d never wanted her pity.

  “I come from a great gene pool, Katie. I’m sorry it’s too late to reconsider having kids with me. Like I said, I inherited my father’s temper. At least I’m aware of it. I know when I need to walk away.” There was a rock lodged in his throat, one he couldn’t swallow. “I don’t ever want you to be afraid. I’d never hurt you or my kids. I’d hurt myself first.”

  Kate slid to her knees between his legs. Cradling his face in both hands, she kissed him. Then she ran her thumbs over his tears, wiping them away. She trailed a finger over the scar above his eye and kissed that, too. Some of the barriers he’d used to protect himself began to crumble.

  “Look at me.”

  He raised his eyes reluctantly.

  “You don’t scare me, Billy Donaldson. I’m not afraid of you. I know you love me, and I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.”

  With those words, the dam broke. He buried his face into her neck and cried. Kate’s heart might be big enough to overlook his past, but if she ever found out what he’d done in the present, he knew she would never forgive him.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  It took less than a week for Billy to find out what his mother wanted.

  Viper was back on the road, still playing gigs Christa’s agency had booked. Breaks and rest stops were spent on the phone, acting as his own manager and agent, trying to book the band wherever he could. When he was home, he let every studio in the tristate area know he was available for session work. It was depressing, but if he had any hope of making mortgage payments, he didn’t have a choice. His career was moving backward instead of forward—again.

  He was backstage after opening for Loose Meat when Denny stuck his head into the dressing room.

  “Hey, man. There’s a woman out front says she needs to see you.”

  Billy pulled his T-shirt over his head and wiped the sweat from his neck. All he wanted was a quick shower and bed.

  “You know I don’t see anyone backstage. Especially women.”

  “She insists you’ll see her.”

  He didn’t know anyone in Atlanta, and he sure as hell wasn’t interested in meeting anyone, either.

  “Said to tell you her name is Janet.”

  His chest tightened. “What does she look like?”

  Denny shrugged. “Flashy blonde, late forties, maybe. I’ll tell them to send her away.”

  Shit. His throat went dry. “No. Send her back.”

  “Seriously?”

  “You heard me.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. Just send her back.”

  He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Fear lined his face. He paced the room, waiting for the knock. When Denny opened the door, his mother pushed her way inside.

  “There he is!” She lifted her arms as if to hug him, but he stepped back. She turned to Denny apologetically. “You’d think he wasn’t happy to see me.”

  He signaled for Denny to go and waited for the door to close. “I figured you’d show up sooner or later, Jane. What do you want?” He hoped he sounded as cold as he felt.

  “Is that any way to greet your mother?” The exaggerated appearance of innocence was nauseating.

  “I mean it. What do you want?”

  “I wanted to see you. You rushed off so fast last time. Before that, I hadn’t seen you since . . .” She tapped a finger against her lips. “How long has it been?”

  “Seven years.” The memory was as clear as ever.

  “Oh, it can’t be.”

  “Seven years. When you conned me into giving you all my money so you could go to rehab.”

  She looked shocked. “I did go to rehab! I’m one hundred percent now, thanks to my baby.” She reached up to touch his cheek, but he yanked his head away.

  “What do you want? I have a plane to catch.” He was lying. They had driven this leg of the tour, and were heading home in the morning, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “I wanted to see you. It’s been a long time. I wanted you to know how proud I am.”

  It all clicked into place. “You saw me on TV, didn’t you? You’re looking for money.” He shook his head. “You’re something else. How stupid do you think I am?”

  “Stupid? Why on God’s green earth would I think you were stupid? Not my baby. I know better.” She wandered around the room, pausing in front of the tiny sofa where he’d set his guitar. She ran a finger over the strings. He snatched it away and set it in its case.

  “Let’s cut to the chase. Tell me what you want so I can tell you no. Then we can get on with our lives.”

  Her lip quivered. “You hurt me, you know that? And that is certainly no way to talk to your mother. I didn’t raise you—”

  “You’re right. You didn’t raise me. Your mother did.” He stared down at her, daring her to contradict him.

  “Look.” The barest hint of a smile crossed her face. “I wanted to say congratulations.”

  “Thank you. Is that all?”

  “Oh, I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing. I’m disappointed you never bothered to tell me I’m a grandmother.”

  Hearing her say it made his stomach clench.

  “You’re not. You would have to be a mother before you could be a grandmother. We both know how that turned out.”

  Ignoring him, she walked toward the dressing table. Two pictures were tucked into the mirror. One was his favorite of Kate. In the second, she held Devin while Rhiannon leaned forward to kiss him. Before he could stop her, she snatched the second picture.

  “They’re adorable. They look just like you.” She pointed to the picture of Kate. “Now that surprises me. She’s not at all the type I expected you to go for. She’s pretty enough, but you could’ve done much better.”

  His jaw grew tight. He didn’t need to justify himself or sing Kate’s virtues to a woman who wouldn’t know a virtue if she tripped over one.

  “You wanna tell me why you’re here? Like I said, I have a plane to catch.”

  She looked up at him. “I wanted to let you know we’ll be coming for a visit. I want to officially meet my grandchildren.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re not coming within fifty miles of my family.”

  “Oh?” Her eyebrows arched as she dropped the photo into her purse. “I don’t thi
nk there’s a damn thing you can do to stop us.” Her smile grew, but her eyes were two blue chips of ice.

  His heart stilled. “What do you mean, ‘us’?”

  She looked up at him, wide-eyed at his naïveté.

  “Your father is determined to meet his grandchildren. And if you won’t introduce us yourself, he says we’ll just wait until the next time you’re on the road. By the way, he said to tell you that’s a cute little house you bought. Small, but very private. Hardly any neighbors around.”

  A chill ran through him, causing him to shiver so violently it felt as if the floor had moved. When he met her eyes, she was watching him with a smile so evil, he shivered again. All the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

  “How much to keep you both away?” He spoke through a jaw so tightly clenched, he thought his teeth might crack.

  “Now see?” She snapped her purse shut. “I knew I didn’t raise a stupid boy.”

  It was after four in the morning when Billy unlocked the door to the apartment. Not long after his mother had gone, he’d headed straight to the airport, leaving Denny to check out of the hotel and deal with the instruments and the long drive home. There had been a flight about to leave for Newark. He’d had to pay top dollar, but he needed to get home.

  Kate was asleep. Devin nestled in the crook of her arm, a possessive hand resting on her breast. Rhiannon was curled against Kate’s leg, a thumb in her mouth, her elbow on her mother’s knee. A tiny pink toe poked through a hole in her footed pajamas.

  Everything he loved was right here in a tangle of arms and legs. He slumped against the doorjamb and took what felt like his first full breath since seeing his mother backstage.

  He needed a drink.

  He made his way to the kitchen, and aided by the dim bulb over the stove, pulled down the Jameson Black Barrel Arthur had given him for his birthday. He took a glass from the cupboard, then reached into a drawer and dug out the checkbook.

  In his place at the head of the small table, he opened the bottle and poured three fingers into the glass. Throwing his head back, he drained it, not even bothering to savor the high-end whiskey. He reached into his wallet and pulled out the scrap of paper his mother had stuffed into his hand before she left. He wrote out a check and slipped it into an envelope and affixed a stamp. Then he left the apartment.

  It was blackmail, plain and simple. If he gave in, she’d never back off. But if he didn’t, then what? Would he have to worry every time he was away that his father might resurface? Was he out there waiting for the chance to hurt him again—or worse?

  All he knew for sure was that if he saw his father anywhere near Katie or the kids, he’d kill him. Without a second thought.

  He yanked open the metal door on the mailbox and dropped the envelope inside. It was better this way. Safer. A day wouldn’t go by that he wouldn’t worry, but he had to believe that greed would make his mother keep her promise.

  It was the best he could hope for.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  The closing on the new house was only a couple days away. Kate had taken Rhiannon with her to run some errands, and Devin was napping. Since he hadn’t been sleeping well since seeing his mother in Atlanta, Billy thought he’d join him.

  He had just stretched out on the couch when the phone rang.

  “Hey, it’s me,” said Denny. “How’s it going?”

  Fan-fucking-tastic. “Okay. What’s up?”

  “Listen, I don’t want to get into the middle or anything, but Christa called me.”

  His hand tightened around the phone. “Yeah?”

  “She said she’s called you several times. You won’t return her calls.”

  “That’s right, and it’s none of your business.”

  Denny was quiet for a moment. “I get it, okay? I’m just the messenger.”

  “Is that all?”

  “She says you better return her call or you’re gonna be sorry.”

  “Are you threatening me?” He’d have put his fist through the wall if he wouldn’t have to turn around and fix it.

  “No, man! Like I said, I’m just the messenger. I don’t like being in this position, and to be honest, I don’t trust her. Maybe you should call her.”

  “Maybe you should mind your own fucking business.”

  “Listen to me. You think long and hard about whatever happened to cause this little rift between you two. Then you decide if her threats are empty or not and who’s gonna be hurt if she follows through.”

  He could feel his blood pressure rising.

  “I’m not trying to start a fight with you. Jesus, Billy, you’re the last person I want on my case. I just think you oughta take a deep breath, then call her and straighten it out. Just detonate this bomb before it goes off in your face and hurts everyone around you.”

  Neither of them spoke for a few moments.

  “You still there?” Denny asked.

  “Yeah. I got it.”

  After hanging up, Billy stared at the phone before he picked it up and dialed.

  “This is Billy McDonald for Christa Dunphy.”

  “Of course, Billy. Please hold,” cooed the receptionist.

  She was back a moment later.

  “I’m sorry. Ms. Dunphy isn’t available to talk at this moment. She said she will be available tomorrow at one at Smith & Wollensky. She’ll be expecting you then.” She cleared her throat. “She also said it would be in your best interest to make sure you don’t disappoint her.”

  “Oh, she did, did she? Just put her on the fucking phone.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s not possible. She’s in a meeting.” She hesitated a second, then added, “The restaurant is on the corner of Third and—”

  He slammed the phone into the cradle so hard it loosened the base from the wall.

  Between his mother and Christa, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

  It was a few minutes after one when Billy walked through the door at Smith & Wollensky. He was deliberately late. He’d be damned if he’d be sitting there waiting when Christa walked in.

  He waved off the hostess. “Don’t bother. I see the bitch.”

  He pushed his way through the bar to Christa’s table in the back. He’d almost reached her when she saw him. It pleased him to watch her recoil as she must have recognized the anger on his face.

  “Billy.” She smiled up at him, recovering quickly. “Nice of you to join me.”

  The chair scraped roughly across the wooden floor. He sat and folded his arms across his chest.

  “What the fuck do you want? I’ve made it clear I want nothing to do with you.”

  She folded her perfectly manicured hands on the table in front of her. “Why? Because we had a little fun? I didn’t rape you, Billy, and I sure as hell didn’t force myself on you. We were two consenting adults who were drawn to each other. No one got hurt. Yet.”

  “I was drunk and dusted, and you know it. That’s no excuse, but I was fucked up. It won’t happen again—with you or anyone else.”

  She laughed. “We’ll see about that. You’re playing the doting husband—I get it. You feel guilty. But guilt fades, honey. Trust me.”

  He scooted back from the table. “Is there any point to this little meeting? Because if not, I’m outta here.”

  A waiter set a glass of whiskey on the rocks in front of him. God, he needed it, but he didn’t dare pick it up.

  Christa’s voice was as smooth and solicitous as the drink before him. “See, I know what you need, what you want. You don’t even have to ask. I told you a long time ago, I can lay the world at your feet.”

  She pulled two envelopes from her purse and slid them across the table.

  He eyed them warily.

  “Go on.”

  He picked up the first envelope, opened it, and scanned the text. It was an artist recording agreement, although the name of the record company was blacked out. On the second page was a list of terms, including the amount of money the band would be paid
and the number of promotional appearances they would be expected to make.

  The second envelope held another contract, and while the name of the record company was also inked out, the town wasn’t. Seattle.

  The advance for each contract was close to $750,000. He folded the documents slowly and slipped them back into their respective envelopes, trying to control his emotions. He looked up at Christa, hoping she couldn’t tell his heart was drumming a thousand beats per minute.

  “Like I said, Billy. I know what you need and what you want, and I can give it to you.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips. He hadn’t kissed her. That meant something, right? He never kissed her. He cleared his throat. “And what do you want?”

  She tossed her head. “My cut, of course. Fifteen percent of everything. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

  A bead of condensation ran down the side of his untouched glass. He followed it with his thumb, then picked up the glass and took a long swallow. When he looked across the table, she was smiling.

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  Her blue eyes had grown dark. “Of course that’s not it. You know what else I want. No one has to know. It’ll be our little secret.”

  He clenched his teeth.

  “If not, that’s your choice,” she said with a casual wave of her hand. “If you decide to walk away from me and what I’m offering, that’s up to you. Just understand I’ll make it my business to see that not only do these offers disappear, no record company worth its salt will touch you.” She lowered her voice enough that only he could hear. “Not only that, I’ll make sure to let Katie know how much I like that little serpent tattooed above your dick.”

  He slammed his fist onto the table, sloshing her drink onto her sleeve. “You stay the hell away from my wife.”

  She dabbed at her sleeve with her heavy linen napkin and tossed it onto the table, where a corner of it slowly unfurled into what was left of her drink. She stood, her face impassive. “Don’t threaten me, Billy. You may be bigger, but I have better weapons. I’ve given you a lot to think about. I’ll give you a week. After that, the deal’s off the table.”