Darling put her arm around her shoulders. "Oh, Maddie. How could he?"
Madison sniffled and the tears began to leak uncontrollably from her eyes. Her shoulders shook with the force of her repressed sobs. She felt so ashamed and didn't know how she would ever face Isabel and Thomas again. How could Link have set up a camera? Was the publicity of a scandal that important to him? Did he have some way of knowing that she would show up backstage? Maybe she'd just been an added bonus and any girl caught on tape would've done? Darling let her rock against her gently and handed her some napkins from the coffee table.
After a time Darling spoke up, offering Madison a glimmer of hope. “Maddie, it’s not that bad. I mean, how many people watch this stupid gossip show at night? He's the biggest jerk in the whole world to do this. Isabel and Thomas will understand; they know what he’s like." Darling tried to comfort her.
"That's the thing, they know what he’s like and I'd been warned." Maddie's voice broke on a sob. "It's bad enough to have the whole world able to see you doing the deed on a couch in a storeroom, but to have the people closest to you know how stupid you were to even get involved with him? To have gone in knowing what he was like and still fallen for it? Ugh, it's so humiliating."
"Just call Isabel in the morning so she’ll know you're really okay. Lie to her; it's better than her being stressed over this and worrying about you being upset," Darling suggested with her usual sensibility.
Madison sniffled for a little bit longer and excused herself to go to bed. She knew Darling meant well and just wanted to make her feel better, but right now she just wanted to be alone. She hoped by the time morning came she’d no longer feel so hurt. By morning she hoped to be too busy plotting ways of torturing Link Jacks to ever feel hurt by him again.
Chapter 28
Link
Link picked up his phone, about to send Madison another text. He planned on inviting her to a dinner out. He wanted to take her on a real date, and if it meant having to rent out a whole restaurant to do it, he would. He was taking a night off of visiting his clubs and being photographed. He just didn’t get why Madison was making him chase her so hard. Was it because she knew the real him and found him lacking? She should get that the public persona is different from the real person. After all, her brother-in-law didn’t exactly advertise that he was a sci-fi nut and loved putting together Lego sets with Christopher. Madison must know that she’s seeing the real him, the guy who loves the piano, classical music, and model building. Hell, he had even admitted that he had glued and painted several giant Hogwart’s model sets.
He was famous, but not so famous that he couldn’t sometimes go out somewhat anonymously in New York City, just not to certain bars or at times when Becket was doing a lot of publicity or playing shows in the area. That's when his face turned up too often for fans not to recognize in places they don't necessarily expect to find a rock guitarist. He could usually go by himself to a McDonald's or pick up some groceries at a market without issues. He realized a few years back the reason why some places were okay and others turned into fan mobs. It was because many of his fans imagined that celebrities lived such lofty lives that it rarely occurred to them that someone famous would be in line at Dunkin' Donuts. They must all expect him to have dozens of staff ready to pick up his dry cleaning or grab a new set of guitar strings.
Sometimes he would get fans pointing and whispering. A few would even come up asking for autographs, telling him how much they liked the latest album. Others might ask advice about their own potential music careers. The vast majority of his fans were respectful, kept their intrusions brief, and thanked him profusely for an autograph or picture and left him to his privacy. It was a blessing compared to what Tommy used to go through with fans. Heck, the front man always has it the worst. Next, people mess with the guitarist, but nobody likes the bass player. Or so Rich, their bass player, claimed. But then again, the guy already had a beautiful wife and two perfect kids, so go figure. Link really only needed his bodyguard Jay's services when he played out or was attending places where fans and paparazzi would be expecting him. Although, he did like having Jay around in general, since he was a great guy.
However it was times like this that he mourned the unpredictable loss of his privacy. Should he get spotted taking Madison out to a romantic restaurant it would certainly make the living social section of the papers and a particularly clever shot of him with a girl would get splashed on the gossip rags. Some women crave such attention and notoriety, but he suspected Madison was not one of them. She certainly had good connections through Tommy if she had wanted to seek out the social scene of the rich and famous. Tommy was invited to everything but tended to pick and choose his events carefully with a mind toward keeping his family life private. Link suspected that if Madison had shown an interest in the party scene she could've gotten her brother-in-law to introduce her to the right people, but since he’d only seen her out and about once, he doubted she wanted such attention. She’d looked downright combustible in her short dress last night, but she obviously didn’t know anyone in the club scene. He had hoped for a minute that her appearance at Hell on Earth was to see him but apparently not. Shit. He closed up his guitar case and turned the low microphone off. Come to think of it, he hadn’t ever mentioned to her that he was part owner of several nightclubs.
Link had spent the last few days pretty much holed up in a studio with Tommy, sound engineers, and a few other musicians. It'd been nice. He'd forgotten of late how you could lose track of time in the windowless environment of the recording studio. They hadn’t been doing anything super serious, just experimenting with some new sounds and trying to get some basic tracks laid down prior to stepping into the studio full time to record their sixth album.
He had another agenda besides music. He kept carefully dropping hints to Tommy about a girl he was interested in. He hoped to smooth the way to a real relationship between him and Madison. He knew if he could get Tommy and Isabel on his side he could break down the walls Madison put up against him. Although the thought of him wanting to get serious with one girl did make him question whether or not he needed to get his head examined.
Link thought about Madison all day. He kept hearing Mendelssohn’s violin concerto in E minor echoing through his head. She haunted his nights too. He’d dreamed about that piano piece they'd performed a mock duet of, and the next thing he knew, he was awake in the middle of the night composing a song for her. He’d tentatively titled it, “Under my Skin,” and the lyrics revolved around a woman who got more than just ink under his skin. Link had never thought of himself as the type to be writing love ballads, but that's what he’d caught himself doing. The guys in the band would be laughing their asses off at him and he really just didn't give a damn. How he’d changed.
He glanced at his phone on the engineer’s console—one never brought a cell phone into the actual sound booth. Who knew when an unexpected ring or vibration could get in the way of a lead that had real potential. He was superstitious about stuff like that when it came to music. He should just make the call.
Tommy had packed up his own guitar and gone home a couple hours ago, but Link felt the need to play around a bit more with the rhythm section. All in all it had been a productive couple of days.
The cell phone he'd been eye stalking through the now-open glass window came to life playing the refrain from Wagner’s “The Flying Dutchman.” He knew that was his manager’s ringtone, having assigned that song to her since she was known for scaring the shit out of men in general—just like the American pilots in World War II used the music to scare the enemy. No sense prolonging the agony, he thought.
Link tapped the screen and waited. His manager, Bethany, got right to the point in her usual straightforward manner. "Link, what the fuck are you doing? Are you out of your fucking mind? I know I've encouraged you to do some crazy shit, but this is ridiculous. Are you trying to destroy the whole band?"
Bethany could be quite dramatic. �
�What are you talking about? I’ve been in the studio for the last few days and if not here, then home, so what is it you think I'm up to?" Link impatiently replied, anxious to send a text to Madison and get off the phone with his managing manager.
"Are you saying you haven't seen the news today, because, buddy, your ass is all over it—I mean it literally this time."
"Don't tell me.” He sighed, resigned to his dad’s latest stupid maneuver to keep his name in all the tabloids. “Did my meddling father drop some weird tidbit to the press about me secretly being related to Beethoven or some crap? I keep telling him to back off.”
“No, unfortunately, that’s not it. You really don’t know, do you?”
“No, Beth, I’ve been in the studio all day working. Haven't even had the phone near me to check the Twitter feeds, so stop being all cryptic and just tell me what's going on."
"Some tabloid TV show ran video of you last night doing the deed with Tommy's sister-in-law. All the gossip magazines and entertainment news shows have picked it up today. Link, you're on tape having sex, and everywhere. If you didn't tape it and release it then she must have. Is that girl some kind of attention-seeking nut job?" Bethany sputtered the last few words.
"Holy fuck. Bethany, I’ll call you later." Link ended the call, rapidly swiping his fingers across the touch screen of his phone to access Twitter feeds and trending news sites. Within seconds he found grainy video of him and Maddie in the storeroom at the Mission, their bits and pieces blurred. There was no question what kind of action was taking place. Who would do this? He'd had no idea she would show up. Sure, he’d hoped, but he couldn't see why she would stage such a setup. She was the one who wanted to keep what happened under wraps. The whole thing made no sense. Fuck, this was a disaster.
He quickly checked his phone for text messages or voice mails he might've missed while in the studio and was shocked to see a plethora of messages. There were at least ten from Artie, his PR guy. Then a couple from his bandmate Rick simply saying, “WTF?” And finally a rather lengthy and ear-blistering message from Madison telling him in explicit detail how he should go fuck himself. Well, that pretty much confirmed his opinion that she hadn't been involved in the tape. Not that he really ever thought it.
He knew he had to get a hold of her and find a way to repair the damage. Hell, he’d have to see if she was even willing to speak to him. He dialed her number and wasn't at all surprised when the call went straight to voice mail. He sent a couple texts declaring his innocence and begging to be called back. His next call was to Jay. If anyone could track down where Madison and her roommate lived and get him there, it was Jay. The guy was as resourceful as a Swiss Army knife.
Link was shocked when Jay picked up his phone on the first ring and said he was already in the Canterbury Records garage with the car. Apparently Jay kept an eye on the news far more carefully than Link did. Link made his request to Jay before being stopped in his tracks at the crowd hovering outside the lobby of Canterbury Records. A slew of reporters and photographers stood at the doors. He could only assume it was in hopes of catching a glimpse of him and getting a comment about the story. Shit-storm already commencing. Jay’s voice barked at him through the phone, instructing him to head to the back exit where he would get him into the car and out of there. Link was incredibly thankful that he had someone as forward thinking as Jay looking out for him. A security guard led him through the bowels of the building and then back up a flight of stairs and out into an alley where Jay waited with the Range Rover.
He didn't use his vehicle much—it was more aggravation than it was worth in New York City—but at a time like this he was sure-as-shit glad he had one. He placed his guitar in the back seat and rolled around the front again to the passenger side.
"Holy shit. Who could have done this?" Link asked still reeling from the shock.
"Maybe it was that girl. She sure had me with her body-piercing emergency story," Jay said in his usual calm tone.
"Body-piercing emergency? Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?" Link pulled his seatbelt on, clicking it into place, and watched Jay expectantly.
In his just-the-facts manner, Jay described Madison's arrival at the club, her explanation of why she needed to go back to help somebody with a penis body-piercing issue, and how he let her back there. He was trying profusely to apologize, but Link’s laughter stopped him midsentence.
Link guffawed a bit more and wiped the tear from the corner his eye still giggling. "You mean she got past you claiming to have to patch up some guy’s cock ring, and you’re just now telling me this?" Link chuckled again. "She is one hell of a woman, I'll give her that. Now if I can just ever get her to talk to me again, maybe we can figure this out, because I sure as hell know she's not the one who set up a camera."
Jay just nodded, looked straight ahead, and continued driving, this time in silence.
Chapter 29
Madison
Madison entered the tattoo studio at five of two ready to start her shift. She had expected some awkwardness over her recent notoriety but what greeted her at the shop was an eerie stillness. The waiting area with its leather chairs, black reception desk, and flash samples, was usually a circus of noise and activity.
Today the area was as silent as a tomb. A couple of artists who'd been joking with the receptionist abruptly stopped what they were doing and headed off to the back tattoo rooms. Michelle looked at Madison uncomfortably and told her to go to Lori's office right away. Her tone was quiet and serious, so Madison knew it didn't bode well. She hefted her bag back over her shoulder, catching a sympathetic shrug as she stoically passed Michelle. None of the staff wanted to look her in the eye. This couldn't be good.
The walk down the main hall from which all the small tattoo rooms opened onto seemed to take forever. Each step she took brought her deeper and deeper into the building and closer toward something she did not want to face. Her boss on a good day was a no-nonsense woman. Who knew how she would be today with one of her employees splashed all over the news.
Maddie reached the last room in the hall, her boss’s office. She was about to knock on the door when it was abruptly pulled open by Lori G herself. Lori didn't waste any time but cut right to the point. "Madison, we need to talk now."
Madison followed her back into the small office and took a seat in one of the two chairs facing the large mahogany desk. The office was sparse with just a few tattoo awards, framed certifications, and some pictures of Lori posing with celebrities that she had inked over the years. There were some industry magazines displaying some of her work on the desk.
"Look I thought I made it clear when I hired you: I need tattoo artists who can work with celebrities and not wind up on the news. What were you thinking? I can’t have my customers coming in here afraid that something they say to you or something you find out might wind up national news. These people value their privacy, what little of it they have. I realize that I may lose referrals from your brother-in-law, but I've got no choice. You're fired."
"But," Maddie started with hopes of defending herself and salvaging something out of this meeting.
Lori bluntly cut her off. "No buts. Effective immediately. Clear out your station, and see Michelle up front. She has your paycheck through today. I don't know what got into you, to pull something like this. You're probably one of the most talented tattoo artists I've ever worked with. The whole thing saddens me. But, fuck, my husband jams with Link. They’re friends, and one of my employees does this? Just please leave." Lori sighed and directed her out with a point toward the door.
Oh my God, could things get any worse? She’d been exposed on national television—and all over the Internet—and now she'd lost her job. A job she’d dreamed of these last years.
Even her mother had called her this morning about the news. Susan gleefully told her how much trouble men were and that she should Google herself online. The unedited video feed was available there. Just great. Not that the blurring left much to
the imagination, but it had been a small shred to cling to. Madison thought about the Edvard Munch painting, “The Scream,” and felt just as gloomy.
Madison wound up checking the computer. Just as Susan had indicated, the raw footage of her and Link was there for anyone with a Wi-Fi connection to see. She supposed that her mother had meant well in calling with some words of support and her general condemnation of the male species, but Madison wished she'd never picked up the phone for the call.
Of course now she had to face the person whose opinion mattered most to her in the world: Isabel. She had never wanted to disappoint her, but this would do it for sure. After she faced her sister she’d figure out what to do next. Damn it, no job and no brilliant ideas were looming in her future. She had about $800 in the bank and a paltry last paycheck, but there was no way she’d ask Izzy and Thomas for any more charity. They’d paid her tuition and living expenses these last four years, and now she was paying them back with scandal and humiliation. Fucking perfect.
Chapter 30
Link
Jay drove Link to the next-most-likely place that Madison could be—her sister and brother-in-law's penthouse. She hadn’t been at her apartment, and the icy reception he got from her roommate spoke volumes. He knew he was entering the lion’s den, but figured since the cat was out of the bag already, what more harm could he do? Jay dropped him at the main entrance of Thomas’ apartment building. He was let in and put on the elevator to the top floor by a doorman who knew him from previous visits.
The elevator ride seemed to take an eternity as he watched each floor number displayed on the LED screen. He still wasn't completely sure what he would say to her but he had to try. He’d make her believe that he wasn't responsible and was just as much a victim as she was.
Link stepped out into the hallway and knocked on the stately door of what was likely to be his former best friend’s home. The door was jerked open and a fist came flying at Link’s face, knocking him backward. He fell, sprawled out on the top of a foyer table. Shooting pain surged to the back of his skull. His eyes watered uncontrollably. He reached back to steady himself, only to knock a decorative pot off the table and send it smashing to the tile floor. The side of his face throbbed. When his vision cleared, he saw Tommy towering above him, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.
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