by Julie Cannon
“I can’t get fired,” he said, his smile big, his eyes sparkling. If he had a white beard he’d look a lot like the pictures of Santa in the books at the library. “I’m the boss,” he added.
He wrapped the two strings in white tissue paper, placed them in a bag with the logo of the music store on the front, and handed them to me. I took it, my hands shaking like a leaf in a wind storm.
He held out his hand. “My name is Micah Solomon.”
Tentatively I placed my hand in his. “My name is Tobin Parks.” I’d already decided on a stage name, and it was the first time I’d used it.
“Tobin Parks,” he said, nodding and repeating it a few times. “I’ll remember that name when I hear it on the radio.”
Eleven years later I returned to that store and bought that red guitar. Well, not that one, but one very similar to the one leaning against the stand by the old worn bench years ago. Unfortunately Micah Solomon had died the year before, but his son, Micah Junior, was just as nice.
At times when the crowd was roaring or I was alone in my room plucking at the strings, I would say out loud, “Thank you, Mr. Solomon.”
I finished my coffee and signed the check, which, by the way, had a phone number under my waitress’s name. Then I glanced up and directly into the eyes of none other than Kiersten Fellows.
Chapter Thirteen
“I beg your pardon,” I said to my mother, who, with her bi-monthly Botox treatment, surprised me by being able to frown her disapproval.
“Whatever are you looking at, Kiersten? You’re barely paying any attention,” my mother said.
“It’s nothing, Mother. I’m sorry. What were you saying?” I pulled my attention back to her. She’d caught me looking at Tobin.
“I said Brittney is meeting us in a few minutes. She said she wanted to talk to you about something, and I told her we’d be down here this morning. She should be along any time.” My mother glanced at her Bulova diamond-faced watch.
Oh God, what now? I did not need the sister-in-law from hell this morning. I looked around for a chance to escape but didn’t see any excuse that would be acceptable to my mother. I forced myself not to look at Tobin again as I waited impatiently for my sister-in-law to make her grand appearance.
Brittney breezed in a few minutes later and practically commanded our waitress for coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice. She studied my plate, trying to determine what I’d eaten. She was always giving me food advice, just to help out, she’d say. I knew she did it to dig at me.
I struggled with my weight for over twenty years. When puberty arrived it brought along with it one hundred and eighteen pounds that crept up on me like the fog rolling in. One day I was a size eight, the next a size twenty-eight. It took me four years, hundreds of hours at the gym, thousands of miles pounding the pavement and swimming in the community pool. I weighed myself every Tuesday, and my daily exercise routine was now a vital part of my life. I vowed I would never go back to that lonely, self-conscious place again. Obviously Harrison had shared this information with his lovely wife, who was probably the same size at forty-four that she was at fourteen.
“Kiersten, you look like you didn’t sleep well.” Translation: You look like shit and you should have at least made a better effort to pull yourself together.
“Actually, I slept great.” I had no qualms about lying to her.
“Hmm, well,” she said, looking at me critically.
“Mother said you wanted to talk to me this morning. I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have much time before my flight.” I got a disgusted sigh and an eye roll for that.
“I’m throwing Harrison a surprise birthday party next month, and I know he’d want you to be there.”
“Of course,” I answered politely. No way in hell did she want me there. I doubted Harrison did either.
“The eighteenth, seven o’clock. I’ve reserved the Club Royale,” she said, as if just saying the name made her richer.
“No doubt,” I said with just a hint of sarcasm.
“It will be fabulous,” my mother said. “I just love the Club Royale.”
Of course you do, I thought. Members of the club were the who’s who of Boston, and the get-in ticket was six figures. No thanks. I’ll take my corner coffee shop and the pool in my backyard instead.
My mother and Brittney were talking about the arrangements, caterers, and music, and I couldn’t sit there any longer. “Mother, would you excuse me for a minute?” I said to be polite, but it was obvious that neither woman was paying any attention to me.
I was almost to Tobin’s table before she looked up and saw me. She stood immediately.
“Kiersten?” Tobin asked, obviously surprised to see me at her table.
“May I sit for a few minutes?” I hated the fact that I needed an escape and Tobin was it.
“Uh, sure.” She shifted and held out the chair across from her, the one with my back to my mother and Brittney.
“Thank you,” I said nervously. I had no idea why I had escaped to Tobin’s table and even less idea what to say.
“Is everything okay?” she asked carefully, her eyes dancing from mine to something over my shoulder. She was probably looking at the table I’d just vacated.
I let out a deep breath and sat back in the chair. “Yes, my mother and sister-in-law were driving me crazy, and I just need a minute.” I hoped that would appease her curiosity. It didn’t.
“Anything I can do?”
“No, thank you. I love my mother but can only take her in small doses. My sister-in-law on the other hand…” I let Tobin draw her own conclusion.
“Only like her because she’s married your brother?” she offered as an option.
“Nope, not even that.”
“Tolerate her?”
“Barely,” I supplied, drumming my fingers on the white tablecloth. “Do you have siblings?” I immediately regretted my question when her face hardened.
“None that I claim publically.”
“And privately?” I didn’t expect her to answer, but she did.
“One sister, one brother.”
“Any of them married?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Not close?”
“Not until my first record hit number one.” I heard more than a little anger and bitterness in her voice.
“Sorry,” I said. “None of my business.”
“It’s okay. What’s the saying, You can choose your friends but not your family?”
“Something like that, I think.”
“I’m no expert, but your sister-in-law’s shoes probably cost more than the trailer I grew up in.”
Ouch, that was nasty, and telling. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I didn’t come over here to touch on a sore subject. I just needed a minute. I should go back.” That was the last thing I wanted to do, but I wasn’t comfortable sitting across from Tobin either. I pushed my chair back to stand but stopped when Tobin laid her hand on my arm.
“Stay,” Tobin said softly, her eyes drilling into mine. My heart raced, and I suddenly found it difficult to breathe. I wasn’t sure I could stand up even if I wanted to. And after that one simple request I didn’t want to.
“I’m intruding.” My excuse was halfhearted.
“If I didn’t want you to stay, I wouldn’t have asked.”
Tobin’s voice was smooth and full. No wonder she was the number-one entertainer in the world. Her eyes held mine and I couldn’t look away. The longer she looked at me the darker they grew, and it felt like I was sliding down a funnel headed straight toward her. She released my eyes and looked over my shoulder again.
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I don’t think they know you’re gone.” She lifted her head, signaling me to turn and see for myself.
She was right. Mother and Brittney were deep in conversation, their heads bowed as if sharing state secrets.
“How was your party?” Tobin asked.
“My party?”
>
“Last night. You were on your way to a party. A fancy one if your dress was any indication.”
My skin heated where her eyes traveled over my body as if remembering what she saw last night.
“You were very beautiful.”
I had trouble swallowing and even more difficulty finding my voice. “Thank you,” I finally said.
“Who were you all dressed up for?”
“A family friend has an annual fund-raiser.”
“What was the cause?”
“The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.”
“Wow, that’s serious stuff. They do that every year?”
“They started it twenty-nine years ago when their son disappeared on the way home from school. He was nine. We walked home together every day, but on that day I was sick with the chicken pox.”
“Oh, Kiersten, I’m sorry,” Tobin said sympathetically.
It took years and many more hours of therapy before I finally made peace with the circumstances of Danny’s disappearance.
“I was only seven.”
“Was he ever found?” Tobin asked gently.
“No,” I said flatly, signaling the end of that topic. Surprisingly I had never had that conversation with anyone before.
“Is that why you donate to them?”
“If it can bring one child home it’s worth every penny.”
The ensuing silence made me uncomfortable, and I was just about to get up when Tobin spoke.
“Have dinner with me.”
“What?” The shift in subject caught me off guard. Obviously I was still hanging on to Danny.
“Have dinner with me,” she repeated firmly.
“Have dinner with you?”
Tobin nodded. “You said you weren’t leaving until today.”
I did say that, but no way was I going to have dinner with her. “Thank you, but my flight leaves at three.”
“I promise I’ll behave. You can trust me.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. I decided to change the subject, again. “How was your party last night?”
She frowned, then smiled. “I was in bed by twelve thirty.”
“I’ll just bet you were.”
“What does that mean?”
“I rode up in the elevator with two Daisy Dukes who were talking about how they’d been in your dressing room.” I mimicked their ridiculous voices. “Small world, isn’t it?”
Tobin looked at me for a few moments. “Jealous?”
“Of them?” I was surprised. “Not hardly. I never looked like that, and I certainly never acted like that, nor do I ever want to.”
“I meant that I invited them.”
“No,” I said, lying to myself and Tobin. “I don’t share.” Actually, I’ve never had anyone to not share, but if I did, I knew I wouldn’t.
“A one-woman woman?”
The smoldering look in Tobin’s eyes told me I could be her one woman—for right now.
“I have to get back. My mother’s probably having a stroke.”
Tobin looked over my shoulder.
“Well, her back is to me, but your sister-in-law looks like the cat that swallowed the canary.”
“Oh, God, I’ll never hear the end of this,” I groaned. Brittney wouldn’t hesitate to bring up this entire event in subtle and not-so-subtle ways every chance she had.
“And speaking of the cat, she’s on her way over here.”
Brittney didn’t even acknowledge Tobin before saying, “Your mother is ready to leave.”
“Tobin Parks,” Tobin said, extending her hand and introducing herself and calling Brittney on her rudeness.
“I know who you are,” Brittney replied, more than a little snotty and ignoring Tobin’s offered hand.
“Then you should know better than to be rude, Brittney,” I said, my anger starting to burn.
“Then you should raise the bar on the company you keep.”
I was stunned. Brittney was mean but never blatantly like this.
Tobin stood and took a half a step into Brittney’s space. “Since you know who I am, then you know I can have you thrown out of here with a wave of my hand.”
“Brittney,” I said.
“Who do you think you are, interrupting a business meeting with your piece-of-shit attitude and your rude behavior?” Tobin asked. Her voice was calm but her tone was angry. “Kiersten will leave when she’s ready to leave.”
I stood and touched Tobin’s arm. Her muscles were tight, and a current pulsed under her hot skin.
“I just stopped by to say hello, Brittney, not that it’s any of your business who I do business with.” I turned to Tobin. “I apologize for the rude behavior of my family.” I used that word loosely. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”
I grabbed Brittney’s arm and yanked her away from Tobin’s table.
“Ow,” she whined, trying to pull her arm away. “You’re hurting me.”
“Shut up,” I growled through clenched teeth and practically dragged her across the room.
“Don’t you dare tell me to shut up!”
I stopped in the middle of the room, not caring who was witnessing our family squabble.
“I’ll tell you to shut your goddamn mouth anytime you’re rude to anyone involved in my business. That was beyond rude. It was despicable and reprehensible, and if you ever do that again, I will rip you to shreds.”
I walked back to my table and picked up my bag. “I’m sorry, Mother. I have to go.”
As calmly as I could with dozens of eyes on my back, two in particular, I walked out of the restaurant.
Chapter Fourteen
I sat back down not quite sure what had happened. One minute Kiersten and I were having a conversation, and the next I was being spat on, euphemistically, of course, by some bleached-blond bitch with fake tits and false eyelashes. What the fuck did I ever do to her? I’m pretty sure nothing, but it wasn’t the first time my reputation had preceded me.
Kiersten looked mortified at what her sister-in-law said. I bet if we weren’t in a public place Kiersten would have belted her. She looked that mad. As it was, it appeared that she gave her quite the dressing down by the salad bar, if I read her body language correctly. Kiersten held her head high as she walked out of the room. God damn, she had a nice ass.
Several people were looking my way, and it wouldn’t surprise me if I didn’t read about these last five minutes in some gossip rag tomorrow.
The next morning my phone rang, and even before I answered it I knew it wasn’t going to be good news. Jake’s voice boomed out of the speaker. “What the fuck is going on?”
“And I pay you to talk to me like that?” I asked, annoyed. I’m not a morning person and certainly didn’t enjoy being woken with that greeting.
“You pay me to keep your face in front of your fans, so why didn’t I know about this?” he asked, almost accusingly.
I sat up too quickly and the room started to spin. I took a few deep breaths before standing and heading for the kitchen and some much-needed coffee. “Know about what?” I normally didn’t fire on all cylinders before two cups of coffee.
“The headline story in The Informer. That’s not what I’m looking at,” he said smugly.
The Informer was the most famous gossip web site in the country. It was also the most inaccurate. They had been sued for slander more times than I could remember, and somehow they were still publishing lies, innuendos, and bullshit. I was a regular on their page.
“Tobin Parks and gal-pal lovers’ spat?” Jake said.
He must have been reading me the headline. Gal-pal? Where in the hell did that stupid term come from in the first place? If the woman was a friend, then call her a friend. If she was her girlfriend, then call her that. If she was just a lover then…well, anyway, you get my drift. If they’d stop taking pictures of me, they wouldn’t have to figure out who the woman was on my arm, or occasionally in my lap, or in this case sitting across from me on the patio of a nice r
estaurant enjoying a beautiful morning.
“There’s nothing to tell, Jake,” I said, bypassing the coffee pot and opening the lid on my laptop. My fingers fumbled on the keyboard, and it took me three tries to get the right letters in the right order for the URL.
I ignored what Jake was saying and scanned the article. It insinuated that Kiersten was my new love or the other woman. God, what a mess. Didn’t people have enough in their lives to do instead of making up shit about mine?
“Tobin? Are you listening to me?”
“Yes.” I lied.
“You didn’t hear a thing I said, did you?”
“Yes, I did.” Two lies before breakfast is not a good way to start the day. “I need Kiersten Fellow’s phone number,” I said, interrupting whatever he was saying.
“Why? I’ve been dealing with her marketing guy,” Jake said almost dismissively.
“Then get it from him,” I said abruptly, my patience nonexistent this morning.
“What’s going on, Tobin?”
It was Jake’s job to manage my career, not my personal life. He wouldn’t agree, often saying they were one and the same. “I need to talk to Kiersten.”
“Tobin,” he said in his what-the-hell-are-you-going-to-do warning tone.
“Jake, just get it for me.” I could tell he wanted to say something else, but I hung up before he could. I leaned back in the chair.
“Oh God,” I said as I read the article thoroughly. It gave quite a few details that were, for once, pretty accurate, but there was more innuendo than fact in some places. The author couldn’t decide if Kiersten was my lover, Brittney was my lover, or we were a threesome. Sex sells, scandal sells, and the combination was a guaranteed sellout. The advertisers on the side of the page were definitely reaping the benefits of this story.
At least they hadn’t yet identified either Kiersten or Brittney, but it would be only a matter of time. Cyber time. I half expected the page to refresh with their names in the revised headline.
Kiersten was not going to be happy. She certainly was not going to be happy when her name became attached to this. Her phone was probably already ringing with her friends and family calling. Did they, like Jake, want to know what was going on between us, or did they want the inside skinny on me?
