by Anne Eliot
“Oh. I…uh, he was okay. Really,” I answer, wondering if he was horrible or just strange.
She darts me a look then looks back at the still dinging phone. “Now he’s wondering if you quit, which he thinks would be a good thing for you to do, and now,” she frowns at the latest dinging then laughs. “Now he’s actually now asking me to convince you to quit while we eat lunch.”
My heart twists with pent up anxiety as she looks up.
“Why do you look so sad? I was trying so hard to crack you up.”
“I—have a hard time understanding what’s going on in this place, and I know he didn’t want me to be hired, but…” I work to smooth my expression to one I hope looks calm as I forge on, “Please. Can you explain to him that I can’t lose this job or quit. No matter what. If he sends me away before the job is done and I don’t get paid, I’ll be devastated. I know I may have messed up by decking him yesterday. And today when we met again, I may have said a few things that implied he was not being the best dad he could be. So, I get why he wants me to not work here, but please tell him, I’m sorry. That I really need the job.” I scoot into the bar stool beside her.
She scans my expression then reaches over to squeeze my hand. “Oh gosh. No. I’m so sorry.” A deep crinkle forms in her forehead. “The job is yours. I was only sharing those texts because I think Royce is so funny, but I suppose if you don’t know him, you can’t find any humor in his intense ways, can you?”
“So far…uh…no. He’s not funny to me at all. Only…kind of…intense. Scary.”
She sighs. “Royce will probably continue to wish you would quit but it’s got nothing to do with you personally, and he won’t take the job away from you. Not at all. He’s indirectly protecting you with his rantings. He tries to shield everyone from any new situation. He also worries about everything from the ozone layer to America’s corn products. Oh, my God. Look. See? This proves it.”
She scoots her phone so I can read the next lines of text Royce has sent:
Vere.
Vere.
Answer me.
Sorry I didn’t reply.
I jumped in the shower.
What’s happened?
What’s the report?
Why are you not texting me about Robin?
Do you need backup?
What’s going on, do you need an ambulance?
Did the lunch arrive yet?”
“Wow.” I finally understand what she’s saying must be true and laugh a little.
“If I don’t type something fast he’s going to run out here in a towel having already dialed 911, and ambulances or cops will pull in to the portico, and rumors will fly. We can’t afford any press scandals this week.”
I put my hand on my chest because it hurts from how I’d been holding my breath at the news Royce wanted me to quit, and also because, who cares about press scandals. I, personally, can’t emotionally afford to see Royce Devlin in a towel.
Not now. Not today. Not ever.
She quickly texts her reply to Royce just as the next set of texts comes in to her phone. “Wow. Now it’s Mrs. Felix and Gregory also wanting to know if you and the baby are okay. Sheesh. Hang on again. I’m going to make a group message.”
“I’m impressed with your thumb speed,” I lean over as she holds out the phone so I can see all that she’s typing about me being okay, and how the baby is napping, and how we’re doing fine.
“You could also mention I’ve started sorting through the stuff in the nursery. It’s going to take another day or two, though, because there’s an entire baby store to sort through.”
“Got it. And…sending.” Vere looks up. “Adam bought all of that stuff. He’s got obsessive tendencies, too. Where Royce obsessively worries non-stop, Adam can be worse. Adam fixates on things to the point you can’t stop him once he’s locked and loaded. That’s why he bought out five baby stores.”
“What do you mean?”
“Royce is much easier. I can predict how he’s going to act in any given situation—he’s going to silently stew on things and worry about them, and then try to wrap everyone in bubble wrap and keep everyone safe. But Adam, he’s like a chameleon. Loose cannon all the way. Once he’s into something, he’s really into something, only that something always changes. Once he’s fixated on the next thing, he has to make sure we all do it with him. He picks a topic or a goal, gathers the tools, the gear, reads books, gets hired experts to come help out and then slowly drives us insane with it until he fixates on the next thing. Luckily, he applies most of his madness to music and things associated with the band’s career, so he’s part of why Guarderobe is so successful. Often he’s locked up studying chords or learning a new instrument so we’re safe. Adam sets the band’s music goals, calendars, and often directs what’s next for the group creatively, but sometimes he goes off kilter and gets obsessed with outside things.”
I raise my brows, trying to understand. “Like what sorts of outside things?”
“You name it.” She sighs. “Two years ago he went on this tangent that he wanted to be a windsurfer. In two weeks, he’d read every single book on windsurfing he could find, hired this national champion to train us, and then convinced us all to buy boards, get wetsuits and begged us to do with him. If you haven’t noticed, he’s kind of irresistible?”
I nod, smiling.
“We wound up staying in a rented place for half of a summer in this cool house by the San Francisco Bay until we could all windsurf like pros.”
“Wow.” I smile more. “He sounds like a perfect fun friend.”
She nods, layering on another twinkling smile. “They’re both fun once you get past their tiring traits. And heck yes, you should see me windsurf. But truthfully, I’m glad Hunter Kennedy is my boyfriend, because he’s the steady one of the three personalities.” She tilts her head to the side. “Although he didn’t always used to be steady. Do you know about him? How we met?”
I shrug. “My brother, he’s a huge fan. He told me some of how you met in Colorado while Hunter was at a high school there?”
“Exactly.” She beams at me. “Hunter was sent to live with his aunt who lives next door to my family. We met because he was going through burn out. It had gotten so bad he’d tried to kill himself by crashing a car. So his mom tried to make him rest and we met when he’d been sent to hide out in Colorado. His aunt was a friend of my parents and we lived next door to where he was staying. I was hired, kind of how you were hired, minus any payment, though. I was supposed to make-him-over into this nerdy dude so he could fit in to my town and remain unnoticed.” Her big brown eyes seem to get twice as big as she leans in and adds, “It was fun, and it worked for a while, but he’s so beautiful it was difficult to disguise him. He was only seventeen, yet he was so shut down, so afraid to move without someone telling what to do. He was also so lonely. He helped me get over being awkward, or at least love myself for being awkward which is what I think finally happened.” She hugs herself. “He says I saved him. That I help him see the small and beautiful parts of life, but actually he saved me.”
I put a hand to my mouth. “Wow. What a story. I’m sorry he was so sad.”
“He was young, and it was a long time ago. Five years already, and he speaks openly about it. Helps other kids with depression.” She smiles. “He pulled through it, and we wouldn’t have met otherwise. He’s the love of my life. Better.” Her grin widens. “He says he loves me back even more, so it was all for a reason. There’s no accidents in life. The people that you meet are there for a reason, that’s what I think. Which is why you and I are going to be friends, right?”
“Aww…well, okay. You sound just like the lady I’m living with. Angel’s mom. Mrs. Perino.”
“Oh, Gregory been talking non-stop about her. Says she’s so cool.”
“She is.”
“Now, when Hunter is upset or stressed, he simply sits and plays the guitar for hours until he feels right. He doesn’t go off on worry tangents
like Royce does, or run away trying to fill the holes with new ‘adventures’ like Adam does.” She wrinkles her nose. “Those two need like…emotion management classes, if there is such a thing. If only the other two could learn from our wise example and get steady girlfriends. Fall in love. They’d be just fine.”
She points at the baby monitor I left back by the sink. “Adam’s next adventure-tangent is obsessing over that baby and all the gear that comes with her. This might be worse than the windsurfing thing. He owns all the baby books ever written, he’s even been reading mommy-blogs. It’s like the baby is his new pet.” She laughs. “Last night, I caught him studying food contents of the baby’s formula last night. In case you were wondering where you fit in, you, Robin Love are his ‘hired baby expert’ so prepare for him to be in your space all the time. We’ve all fallen in love with that little girl in there, but Adam is taking his role as Uncle Adam to extraordinary levels.”
“That explains so much.” I laugh again. “He was giving Royce baby tips he’d read from some book this morning. And he did seem really good with her compared to Royce. I think it’s cute how he’s so concerned. Especially with Royce acting like she’s not his baby.” I shake my head. “The baby will only benefit from extra love, right? Uncle Adam is welcome anytime.”
She shakes her head. “You might change your mind on that. Adam is infuriating. Even I’ve lost some sanity on that guy. The Paparazzi feeds off Adam, to. They know he’s an open book and that he’s going to provide excellent photographs with his erratic antics.” She sighs. “Everyone always assumes Royce is the press magnet, but with the stupid paparazzi lurking around looking for chinks in the carefully crafted, Guarderobe armor, Adam can be an easy target for rumors and scandals to start up because he doesn’t think before he acts. He just feels, and acts and feels and cries and feels. He also is the one who runs away. Literally, he’s taken off for weeks and even months at a time. The press eats that up, too. The fans of course, think it’s all mysterious. Part of his creativity. Now there’s this rumor that he’s gay.”
I nod. “My brother even mentioned that.”
“Well, he’s not.” She rolls her eyes. “We all just have to make sure he doesn’t run away with the baby, right?” she laughs at her own joke.
“How crazy will the press get if they discover Royce has a baby up here?”
“Crazy isn’t the word. They’d chew us all up and spit us out. There’s no mommy to interview! They’d ruin that baby’s life as well as the mom’s life for flipping out and leaving her here. I suppose they’d ruin Royce’s life, too because what kind of dirt-bag doesn’t even know the mom is pregnant? He will weather it if it hits, but he doesn’t want it to hit because the fallout on the others would be too harsh.” She flips to a funny announcer’s voice: “Horrible mommy dumps baby with a rock band. Should she be arrested? Or, Insta-baby makes Royce an insta-daddy. Exclusive interviews and photos of the baby to follow for the rest of her life, all while people speculate on just how and when and where the baby-mommy got knocked up…”
She shudders a little. “No wonder Royce can’t sleep. Picturing this story on one of the entertainment networks just made my stomach hurt, too. There’s no way to explain any of this until we find the real mom and figure out what story to launch to the world.”
“What will you do until then?”
She laughs. “Well, we usually make a Plan A. That quickly becomes a Plan B. Which, by the way is our current plan, and you’re part of it now.” She pops another cereal square into her mouth. “But within hours there will be a meeting to create Plan C, I’m sure of it.”
“Oh. Do I get to go to the meetings?”
“Not as of yet, but tonight I’ve been invited to one, during which we time I’m sure shall have a meeting that will lay out possible Plans D, E and F, because we need to stay ready to flip.” She shrugs, laughing a little more. “If it sounds exhausting and hard to keep up, well it is.”
I nod, agreeing with her.
“But we’re used to it. It’s our way of life. You’ll only have to endure it for a short while. Enough gloom and doom. Let’s not think about it anymore. Let’s talk about you.” The twinkle in her eyes comes back. “You have no idea how excited I am to have an actual girl near to my age here in the suite for a while. Yay! Out of chaos comes a new friend for me!” She claps her hands in front of her heart and I decide that this girl is so cute, bright and fun, that it’s no wonder Hunter Kennedy fell for her. “Do you hear that?” Vere leaps up and dashes toward the sound of the dinging elevator. “That’s got to be the food Royce ordered.” She points out at the pool deck. “If you grab the baby monitor we can relocate outside by the pool? Meet you out there?”
I glance in the direction she’s pointing and take in the long roof-top deck with an oval shaped pool in the center of it. “Do you think the monitor will work out there?”
“It’s only a few feet from here. Of course it will.”
Chapter 19
Vere intercepts me at the entrance to the pool deck and points me toward an awesome looking cabana tent at the edge of the pool. She’s pushing a cart loaded with cheddar cheese so perfectly aged that it’s crumbling. Brie cheese that’s so fresh it looks like pure snow on a plate. There’s sea-salt topped crackers, dripping melon slices sprinkled with fresh mint, a gorgeous hand blown glass dish spilling over with raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries, and I nearly die when I eye the monster-sized tub of Nutella, adorable mini condiments, and a plate laid out like a flower, made out of salami, ham, turkey. There’s also the cutest, mini baguettes I’ve ever seen.
“It’s all too beautiful to touch,” I whisper, sitting down, trying not to gape like a hillbilly who’s never left her own home town, but the gorgeous black bottomed, shimmering pool that’s next to us looks like it’s made out of natural granite or possibly Italian marble. “Wow, all of this is so…wow,” I whisper, meeting her eyes.
Not understanding I’m saying wow about this deck, the view, and the entire life she takes for granted, Vere answers, “The meat flower impresses me every time, too. The bread will be warm from the oven. It always is so prepare to die of happiness. Someone orders this every day so we can smile at it and gobble it down.” She claps her hands again. “Dig in.” She grabs a dripping wet pitcher. “They also send iced tea. The kind loaded with caffeine. Do you want some?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
Vere pours us two glasses, pausing to gulp down a few sips of iced tea. “Now…where were we? Oh, yes. Who are you, and how old are you, and what’s your whole life story?” She grins cracking into a baguette.
Working to keep up with her apparent endless excitement about everything, I pull the cart up next to us, pick up the silver tray that the feast is resting on, and get it from the room service cart onto the table in the center of the tent-cabana. Hoping she doesn’t flag me for not answering all of her loaded questions, I answer only: “I—I’m almost eighteen.”
“Ah ha! Knew it. Royce vowed you’re only fifteen and lying about your age. But he only said that after Mrs. Felix told us that you’d called him an old man way before you decked him. Did we ever laugh so hard when they were telling the story. For that matter, we laughed so hard when you actually decked him and took off while we all watched. We’re still laughing every time we see his face.”
Avoiding the part where I decked my boss, I answer only, “He does seem way older.” I bite happily into the salami and cheese sandwich I’d created, and with a full mouth add, “Because who knows how to order a fancy meat-shaped flower like this one, if you aren’t…older.”
“Right?” Vere starts taking one of each thing from the food tray and piling it all onto a small side plate. “Royce looks older because of how serious he always is. Oh, and because of that beard thing he’s got—which, by the way, has the ladies of all ages going nuts for him on Instagram.”
“Mrs. Felix told me about that.”
“She did?” She pauses to laugh and then d
rops a piece of salami into her mouth and eating it before going on, “The stylists are begging him to keep it, or worse, grow it out more! They want Adam to do a beard, too. What do you think of beards? We argue over this topic all the time.”
“If you’re the kind of person who likes your rockstars to look extra sinister, dark and smolder-sexy then, yeah, okay, Royce’s beard works very well. I guess.”
She raises one brow. “So you’re the kind of person that likes that look then? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Ehh.” I pull a face, evading a direct answer while I toss three of the giant raspberries into my mouth, and change the subject by adding, "Mmm. Love raspberries."
While Vere slathers an excessive amount of Nutella onto the next baguette I feel guilty about all of this abundance and ask, “Should we offer the security guard something to eat?”
“Oh. No. He eats with the other bodyguards.”
I nod, wondering how many other bodyguards there might be floating around here. “Is it strange to you, living like this? In hotels? With so many people that are hired to help while others are always watching you?”
“Completely bizarre. Yes. Sometimes it feels like a prison. But like everything, you will get used to it. It’s a real home and a family, of a sort. The only family we all have, and a great one.” Mouth full, she goes on, “So…have you graduated from high school, then?”
“Yes. I—we. We just moved.” I evade explaining who the ‘we’ includes in my comment, by adding, “I didn’t get to attend my graduation. I’ll have a diploma and I need to get my final transcripts and all that sent over. But yes. Just finished senior year.”
“Ugh. I hated the word transcript when I was a senior. So annoying, all of the college application hoops they make you jump through. Essay after essay and then that common app.” She mock-shudders. “Such bad memories. Will you go to a college in the fall?”
