Shit. I remember catching her eyes on me earlier in the week and getting the sense that she somehow knew about our encounters. I swallow hard and try to keep my face as blank as possible. “I’d say we’re pretty good friends,” I tell her truthfully. “He’s really busy with the band, though. He doesn’t give himself very much free time to hang out with anyone.”
She nods. “He’s always been like that. I don’t know anyone else who’s as devoted to his work as Reed.” She pauses. “I just wonder... does he ever talk about me? To his friends, I mean.”
I’m starting to feel a little panicky. She doesn’t sound accusatory or angry—if anything she sounds vulnerable, unsure of herself. But I’m still not at all comfortable with this line of question. “Of course, he talks about you. I mean, not that I talk to him all that much, but he’s talked about you, obviously.” Shut up, Paige! I yell in my head.
“Did he... did he tell you about the baby?”
I meet her eyes in the mirror and I’m once again positive that she knows about us. Her eyes are at once confident, challenging, and completely, devastatingly sad. “He did,” I tell her. “He told me after you came to Buffalo. And we’ve talked about it a few times since.”
She nods, looking grateful for my candor. “Does he seem... happy?”
How in the hell am I supposed to answer that? I cannot tell her that the news freaked him out so much he got trashed and tried to seduce me in my hotel room. “He seems... nervous. I know it means a lot to him, to be a good dad.” My heart clenches. “He’ll do whatever he can to take care of the baby, to give it a happy and stable life.”
She finally looks away, the challenge fading from her eyes, leaving her looking even more vulnerable than before. “Including putting up with me,” she murmurs.
Something about her expression makes my stomach ache for her. She may be rich and famous, may be incredibly beautiful and talented, may be getting ready to have a child with the only guy I’ve ever loved, but I can’t envy her, not now. She looks entirely terrified. “I don’t think that’s true, Sienna,” I tell her, wishing I could take that look away from her. “He told me he wanted to try to make things right with you. He didn’t ever say he’d be putting up with you.”
She nods, but still doesn’t look back. “I hope so.”
I don’t know what else to tell her. I’ve never been good at sitting by while people are obviously in pain. My instinct is to try to cheer her up, to get her to open up, but I just can’t do that. Not with her. Instead, I watch as she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and turns back to the mirror. She removes tubes and jars from her makeup bag methodically. She dabs moisturizer, then concealer, then foundation on her face, following that with eye makeup. Still I can’t keep my eyes off her—it’s fascinating, watching her transform in front of my very eyes. By the time she’s finished she’s gone from scared looking little girl to gorgeous, sure-of-herself, movie star, the vulnerable look in her eyes replaced with one of steely confidence.
“I guess I should get dressed,” she says, even her voice having dropped a fraction, no longer so girlish. “Thanks for the chat, Paige.”
“You’re... you’re welcome.”
She sweeps up from the makeup table and leaves the room without a second glance. I feel strangely stunned—by the vulnerability she displayed, by her obvious emotion for Reed, by the way she pulled herself together so completely in order to go do her job. I feel like I know much more about her than I did before—more than I wanted to know, to be honest. She can no longer be the faceless, ungrateful bitch who gets the guy I want. She’s much more complicated than that, much more real.
I realize that she’s left something behind on the dressing table. Thinking it might be something she needs, I jump up from the couch to bring it to her. When I realize it’s only a magazine, I pause. The glossy pages are open to a picture of Sienna and Reed, from the event the previous weekend. She wearing a long red ball gown, her hair piled on top of her head, jewels glinting around her neck. And Reed... I feel short of breath as I look at his picture. He’s in a tux, his blond hair sleek and tied back at his neck. The edges of his tattoos are just visible above his collar. He looks gorgeous, sleek and sophisticated with just that hint of rocker beneath the veneer.
It’s not his good looks that hit me like a punch to the gut—he always looks unspeakably good. It’s the expression on his face as he looks down at her. Sienna is laughing, leaning on his arm, while he gazes at her face, his hand spanning the length of her hip.
I suddenly feel sick. What in the hell have I been doing, mooning over this man? Whatever he might say about their problems, it’s obvious they have strong feelings for each other. You just don’t look at someone like that, if you don’t care for them. And why wouldn’t he? She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, her looks heightened even more by the happiness clear in her face when she looks at Reed.
She loves him, I realize. That’s what that conversation was about—she wanted some assurance he might feel the way she does. She loves him; she’s going to have his child, and they’re going to try to be a family.
And where does that leave me? “Absolutely nowhere,” I whisper to the picture. I was his rebound, the girl he hooked up with on vacation to try to get over the gorgeous movie star he left behind. Sure, we’ve had some good times on the tour, but I’m insane if I think any of that can compare with what she can give him. I run my fingers over the glossy page, imagining the scene. The party dresses and the jewels, the champagne and the photographers. That’s the kind of life he has with her—glamour and elegance and excitement. What would he have with me? Trips to the world’s largest ball of twine and silly jaunts around a kitschy Christmas store.
I grab my things, needing to get out of this room, needing to get away from these realizations. When I hit the parking lot, though, I realize that there’s nowhere I can go to escape. He’s everywhere around me, on the tour bus, in the venue, his presence pressing down on me like a living thing.
And there’s nowhere I can run.
Chapter Twenty
Paige
The final show in Seattle is probably the best of the tour so far. The guys play like men possessed, the crowd amped so high I fear there may be a breaking point. I watch the entire thing in the family box with Daisy. Luckily, there are two boxes—the other is entirely filled with Sienna and the camera crew. They capture her every smile, her every cheer. I don’t know if I watch her or the stage more.
During the encore Daisy and I slip out to man the merchandise table. As I help her stack t-shirts and hoodies, I notice her eyes on me every time I turn my head. “What?” I finally ask, my voice dangerously close to a snap.
“I’m just wondering what’s going on with you. You don’t seem like yourself today.”
I sigh, clenching the shirt I’m folding in my fingers to keep from spilling the entire story. I’ve avoided telling Daisy about my hook up with Reed for very good reasons, and I don’t want to break that silence now just because I’m feeling sorry for myself.
“I’m just tired,” I tell her, filled with guilt at the lie. Daisy is one of my best friends, and it’s totally against girl code to lie to your friends.
“Are you stressed out?” She touches my arm gently and I want more than anything to fall onto her shoulder and cry out my sob story. “I know I don’t do as good a job as Karen, keeping things scheduled and organized for you. I’m sorry, Paige. We could totally synch up our schedules if it would help and—”
“No, Dais.” I’m touched that she remembers how much Karen’s scheduling of my life helped me deal with my ADHD. To be honest, I’ve been feeling more in control of myself over the past few months than I ever have before. I try to tell myself it’s because of the work, but I know that’s crap. It’s because of Reed. He grounds me, makes me feel calm and centered. Just by being around.
“It’s not the schedule,” I tell Daisy, knowing my voice is flat, as a deep wave of sadness passes over me. Was the feeli
ng of calm just another thing I imagined about our relationship?
“I’m worried about you,” she says, her voice soft. “Will you please talk to me? Or if you don’t want to, will you call Karen?”
“I’m okay, Dais, I really am.”
She’s clearly skeptical of my answer but at that moment the doors to the venue open and the crowd begins streaming out in to the lobby. Within seconds, there’s a mob of fans surrounding our table demanding merchandise. They keep us so busy over the next half hour we don’t have time to talk about anything more serious than shirt sizes and back up stock.
After we’ve packed up the merch for the next night, I follow her backstage. I’m not sure if the guys are partying in the dressing room but I cross my fingers they’ll be ready to board the bus soon. I’m more than ready to get back to the hotel.
We walk into a full-out argument between Cash and Reed. “I don’t want to go to that lame-ass club,” Cash is yelling. Reed is staring at him, red-faced. He looks pissed, like he could swing at Cash at any moment. Daltrey and Lennon stand to the side with Mr. Ransome, looking wary. Sienna is nowhere to be seen.
“Why can’t you do this one thing for me, man?” Reed asks. “Just one fucking thing.”
“I’m sorry I don’t want to go to some fancy, snobby-ass club just so your girlfriend’s camera crew can get some footage of us. When the hell do we ever go to places like that, Reed?”
“It’s not just for my girlfriend,” Reed snarls, and his use of the word, even after everything, makes my heart constrict painfully. “It’s for us. That’s what I keep telling you about this show—it’s publicity for our band.”
“It’s bullshit,” Cash spits.
Reed’s face reddens even deeper and I see his hands clench into fists. “Why the hell—”
“Okay,” Mr. Ransome says, coming to stand between his two sons. “Cash, your brother is right. He’s giving up a lot of his free time to shoot footage for this show—which will help all of us in the long run. I don’t think he’s asking too much for you guys to go out to this club tonight.”
“Why should we—” Cash begins furiously, but Mr. Ransome places both hands on his son’s shoulders. “I’m asking you to, Cash. Go out and have a good time with your brothers, okay? It’s really not something to get worked up over.”
“Fine,” Cash mutters, pushing his dad’s hands off. “Whatever.”
“Thank you.” But Cash pushes past his father, bumping into Reed with his shoulder as he goes by to the private room in the back. I catch Daisy’s eye—she too looks surprised by the intensity of the argument. I wonder if she also gets the sense that it had to do with more than just a choice of club.
“So,” Lennon says, clapping his hands together with false cheer. “Who feels like going dancing?”
Reed pushes past him and leaves the room. As he passes me our eyes meet briefly. If anything, his face hardens more, the anger I see there making my stomach clench. Then he’s gone, probably off in search of Sienna.
“Hell,” Daltrey says after he’s gone. “What’s his deal?”
“I have no idea,” Lennon says, plopping down on the couch. “How ’bout it, ladies? Feel like going dancing?”
“I don’t think so,” I say quickly. “I have tons of work to do tomorrow, I really need an early night.”
“Oh, come on, Paige,” Daisy says, grabbing my arm. “You have to come. I can’t be the only girl there.”
“Sienna will be there,” I point out, and she wrinkles her face up.
“I know. I mean, I can’t be the only normal girl there.”
“Dais, I don’t know.” A movement in the mirror catches my eye and I look up to see that Cash has re-entered the room. He’s looking right at me, his face a mixture of anger and pity.
He knows.
I’m not sure why, but I’m completely certain that Cash has figured it all out. Reed must have told him about Mexico. And if he knows about Mexico, I’d be willing to bet he’s figured out how I feel about his brother.
“Please, Paige,” Daisy is saying. “Please, please, please.”
“I—I don’t—”
But then Cash smiles and comes over to us, slipping his arm through mine. “’Course she’s coming,” he says smoothly. “She’s going to dance with me.”
“I am?”
“Absolutely, you are.” He squeezes my arm and I feel like I might burst into tears right there. If he really can tell how I feel about Reed, then out of anyone in the room, he probably understands the best what this week has been like for me, with Sienna here. It’s kind of funny, actually. Cash—bumbling, oblivious, totally unsentimental Cash—is the only one who sees how close I am to breaking. And he’s the one who offers me a literal shoulder to lean on, a promise to dance with me and keep me company.
I squeeze his arm back, hoping he knows how grateful I am. “Well, if I’m dancing with Cash, I guess I have no choice, do I?”
“Yay!” Daisy cries. “Now you have to help me get ready. I can never do that eye-shadow thing the way you do it.”
“Good girl,” Cash whispers in my ear before I can move to follow her out to the bus. “You just keep your head high. You’ll be fine.”
“I will,” I whisper back. “Thank you.”
He gives me a sad look as Daisy starts to pull me away. “You’re welcome, Paige.”
I can see right away why Cash didn’t want to come to this club. It’s way too sleek, way too pretentious for the Ransome boys. All of the furniture is plastic and chrome, the walls and floor white marble. It seems like every person in the room is giving every other person the judgmental side-eye. We’re not there for five minutes before I start fiddling with the hem of my dress, wondering if I should have picked something a little classier than black leather.
Once Reed and Sienna arrive, cameras in tow, the other club-goers realize that we’re not just some scrubs off the street. I hate the way that everyone is staring at us—suddenly I understand exactly why the cameras stress Reed out so much.
“Who needs a drink?” a waitress in a white slinky dress asks the table at large.
“All of us,” Cash says quickly.
“What will you have? Cosmos? Martinis? Something stronger?”
“Just bring real liquor over here,” he practically snarls, as if the suggestion of a Cosmo was somehow offensive to him. “A bottle and some glasses is all we need.”
“It’s not all some of us need,” Sienna says, her voice sounding pinched. “I’ll take mineral water, please.” She looks pointedly at Reed, clearly expecting him to second the request.
“Tequila, if you have it,” he says instead, and Sienna glares at him. As the waitress leaves she leans into his shoulder and starts talking in his ear. From the look on both of their faces, I’m pretty sure it’s not a happy conversation. Over the music, I hear the words “cameras are here,” and “getting drunk.”
The waitress brings bottles of Johnny Walker and Patrón, along with Sienna’s water and enough glasses for everyone. “Thank God,” Cash says, reaching for the whiskey. He pours out several glasses and begins to pass them around. Over his bent head, Reed catches my eye. He doesn’t smile.
As I take my drink, I see him look at me several more times. Once or twice his eyes flick down over my dress. Admittedly, it’s slightly over the top—black leather and pretty tight—but at least it covers my entire ass and most of my thighs; the same cannot be said for his date. He doesn’t seem impressed by my dress, nor by the sight of me in general. In fact, he looks downright pissed. Did he not want me to come? Should I have refused because his girlfriend is here?
I down my whiskey in a long gulp and hold it out for Cash to refill. He glares at Reed and pours me more, topping off his own glass as well. Across the table Daisy and Daltrey are cuddled up, while Lennon is talking to the waitress. I take momentary interest in that situation—Lennon is far too shy with the ladies to be a player and it’s not every day I see him flirting. But then, I catch Reed�
�s angry eye again and turn back to my drink, wondering what the hell his problem is with me.
Cash keeps my drink refilled, though the third time around he does give me a concerned look. “You’re not one to lecture,” I mouth clearly. He nods and refills my glass, shooting another glare at Reed as he does so. Reed is keeping pace with both of us, steadily working his way through the bottle of Patron. Sienna sits next to him, arms crossed, looking more and more furious with every drink he takes.
“We should dance,” Daisy calls out to me. “You up for it?”
“Sure.” I’m eager as hell to get away from the table. Though Daisy, Daltrey, and Lennon seem completely oblivious, I’m feeling the tension so strongly it’s making me nauseated.
I slide out of the booth behind Daisy and hear Reed mutter, “way to keep it classy,” his voice dripping with sarcasm. I snap my head back in his direction, sure he’s talking about me, but he’s staring at his glass. Sienna, on the other hand, is glaring at me.
What the fuck? I think to myself as I march out to the dance floor. What did I do to either of them? Relieved I thought to bring my drink with me, I down the entire thing in one gulp before setting it on the tray of a passing waiter. Now that I’m standing, the totality of the booze I’ve had tonight is starting to hit me. I’m not very steady on my feet, and I reach out to grab Daisy’s hand. A much larger hand envelopes mine first. I look up in surprise to see Cash next to me.
“I told you I would dance with you, didn’t I?” he asks.
After the nastiness at the table, I’m so happy to see a smiling face I sink into his side in relief, letting him steer me out onto the dance floor behind Daisy and Daltrey. “You’re doing just fine, Paige,” he murmurs into my ear.
“Why is he so mad at me?” I ask. Even in my fuzzy-head state I can hear how pleading I sound. Cash faces me, placing his hands at my hips while I clutch his shoulders. His face is hard and angry—but not at me.
“Because he’s figuring out what a huge mistake he’s making,” he mutters. That doesn’t really make any sense to me, and the floor is spinning under our feet, so I close my eyes and lean into him. Cash is shorter than Daltrey and Reed but he’s solid, with a broad chest and powerful arms. He tightens his hold on me and I feel the room stop moving.
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