by Kylie Scott
“Depends. Is this your way of begging for the sweet relief of death?”
“I’ll hold her down for you,” I offered.
“You’re on.” Lena leaned across the couch, tapping her bottle of beer against my glass. “Don’t do it, Liz. You’re facing both a mother and a nanny on the edge due to those cute little do-good mongrels.”
Liz just smiled. “Yeah, I hate them too.”
“It’s that bad?” asked Anne, nose wrinkled.
“Just wait. Little kids fixate worse than serial killers.”
Anne’s eyes widened.
“Remember when we couldn’t find Mister Elephant so he refused to sleep for two days?” Liz shook her head. “I can still hear the pitiful wails and glass-shattering screams echoing in my head.”
“Kids are the best,” confirmed Lena.
“You can’t even imagine the love you’re capable of until you have your own child.”
“Because Lord knows, they will test you.”
Liz and Lena raised their drinks in toast to each other. And having now spent quality time around small children, I sympathized. I really did. But I also kept glancing at Evelyn, relaxing with a beer. Good God, this was awkward. If they were waiting for me to relax, I might as well just stick a straw in one of the bottles of wine and start drinking. Because that’s what it would take. After this, Lizzy wasn’t even getting coal for Christmas. Broccoli maybe. Or no, a despicably ugly outfit which I would pretend to be all excited about and insist on her wearing somewhere public. Not a bad idea.
“So,” said Ev. “Whose life do we dissect first?”
Anne grinned. “Yes! Give me the gossip, ladies.”
“Martha has news.” Faintly malicious delight filled Lizzy’s eyes. “Martha’s been very busy.”
“You really do have a death wish,” I said, glancing tellingly at Sam. He, meanwhile, stared serenely out at nothing. Obviously ignoring the chatter entirely. Thank God. And I did feel better with him close, dammit.
“Leave Sam and Martha alone,” chided Ev. “You know what it’s like when you first get together…it’s special. They probably want to keep it to themselves.”
Lizzy rolled her eyes dramatically. “Puh-lease. You were straight on the phone to your bestie Lauren giving her all the juicy details when you and David finally got on with it. She told me.”
“Oh, I was not.”
“Liar. Spill it, Martha.”
Ev shook her head. “Liz, she feels uncomfortable enough just being here.”
Silence descended. Thick, heavy, and embarrassing as all hell. I could feel all of the curious glances and awkward side-eyes. The women were just as bad as the fucking men. Honest to God, Lizzy’s outfit was going to be the ugliest thing in creation for making me sit through this.
“Let’s deal with that then because I don’t get out often enough for tonight to be all shitty and awkward.” Lena sat up, picking the knife off the cheese platter and hitting her glass with it. “This is the first break I’ve had from potty-training and picking up toys in ages and I’d say Martha and Lizzy are in a similar situation.”
“Adult time is precious,” agreed Liz. “Though I’m loving being back at college.”
“Yes, I want to hear about that,” said Ev, all enthusiasm. “I swear, my brain just gets stuck in barista mode if I don’t open a book often enough.”
“How’s the second coffee shop you bought going?”
“Really well.” Ev beamed. “But first we need to deal with this. You’re right, Lena.”
Oh no.
With a deep breath, Ev faced me head on. “Martha, the past is the past and I’d rather all of that crap got left back there forgotten, if you know what I mean? Like, life is too short. I vote for letting it go, okay?”
My jaw hung low. “Um. Okay?”
“Great.” She nodded. “What next?”
“That easily?” I asked, needing to be sure.
She shrugged. “Why should it be hard? David and I are happy. You’ve apparently moved on with Sam. I assume you have no nefarious plans to mess with my relationship or anything?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “None.”
“Exactly. You’re past that. And it all happened years ago, anyway.”
I looked to Sam and he nodded encouragingly.
“Great.”
“You don’t want me to apologize or something?” I asked, cocking my head.
“I don’t know.” She wrinkled her lips. “Would you mean it?”
The question required serious consideration. Deep down inside, I harbored no real hate for the woman. If anything, a lingering sense of embarrassment coated those memories. Years ago, I’d tried to break her and her new husband up. That he’d once been my long-time boyfriend didn’t really matter. Not really. Without a doubt, it’d been a heinous thing to do. Yet here she was allowing me into her home.
Highly doubtful if the situations were reversed I’d ever be that nice.
“We weren’t friends at the time and I didn’t owe you anything,” I said, choosing my words with care. “But I do regret trying to upset your and David’s happiness, if that counts?”
“Okay. I can live with that.”
“Yay,” said Liz quietly.
Except then I thought about it some more. This was my chance to get rid of this situation entirely. Over in the corner, I could feel how Sam had tensed. How he watched me carefully. While I wasn’t going to prostate myself to make him happy, it seemed stupid not to swallow my pride just a little and admit to past mistakes. I’d come back in search of family. Some sense of belonging. Maybe this might be part of it here.
Decision made. “No, look…it was a shit thing to do. I highly doubt we’re ever going to be best buddies or anything. But I was out of line and I’m sorry.”
Ev paused, surprised. “Thank you, Martha. I forgive you.”
Done. I took a sip of wine.
“This is so beautiful.” Lena wiped a fake tear from her eye with much drama. “You two are consciously coupling and I feel like there should be violins or something. Rose petals drifting down from the ceiling.”
Ev threw a cushion at her and the woman’s wine sloshed over the rim of her glass. I couldn’t help but smile. It was a good hit. And across from me, even I could admit that Lizzy’s self-satisfied expression was probably well earned. So I didn’t throw anything at her. I might not even give her the wardrobe equivalent of cow dung for Christmas. Maybe. Perhaps having female friends that were more than just casual acquaintances wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.
“So you two are friends now?” asked Anne, sounding slightly astounded.
“Sure,” said Ev. “Why not? And now how about we talk about why Anne is only drinking water. That’s what I want to discuss next.”
“Oooh.” Lena chuckled. “I totally missed that. Oh my God.”
“I might just go wait in the kitchen,” said Sam, slipping away. But not before giving me a look full of pride. Easing back further in the seat, I watched him go with a smile.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“No-no-no!”
“Yes-yes-yes,” I shouted back because mature. “One tiny weeny little cube of carrot, then you get a spoonful of spaghetti. That was the deal.”
Gibby laughed and shook his head, delighted with our game. Meanwhile, Ben just sat opposite, smiling. Probably because he wasn’t the one having to convince the kid to eat something healthy. As battles of wills went, meal times rocked. For Gib, not for me. I usually lost. Though I’d found that by confiscating the dish and spoon early on, less food got thrown around. A good thing for everyone involved, but mostly me.
“You’ve been behaving so well all morning.” I shook my head. “This is sad. You’re giving Aunty Martha sad face. I hope you’re proud of yourself, young man.”
Gibby clapped his hands. “Yes!”
“Of course you are.”
“He gets that from you.” Ben smiled around his cup of coffee. “Little horns come out of his
head sometimes, too. It’s all from you, sister.”
“Dream on. He’s your child, through and through.”
“Darling, eat the piece of carrot,” he said, turning his attention back to his son. “C’mon now, rabbits eat carrot.”
“Wabbit?” asked Gib from his high chair, interested suddenly.
I nodded. “And rabbits can hop like insanely well. They can jump so high! You want to be cool like a rabbit, don’t you?”
After a moment’s thought, the child opened his mouth. I wasted no time shovelling the carrot in. Success.
“That being said”—I continued with the adult portion of the conversation—“your wife is pretty damn evil too.”
“Damn,” mumbled Gib around a mouthful of now orange mush.
Ben and I both winced, then shrugged. He’d copied worse before. He’d copy worse again. Given he lived surrounded by rock stars half the time, it was amazing the small child didn’t already swagger and swear in five languages.
“I had nothing to do with her dragging you to David and Ev’s last night,” said Ben. “Though I hear it turned out all right.”
“Apparently in my thirties I am in fact capable of occasional small acts of maturity. Who could have guessed?”
“Good for you.”
“Meh. Whatever.”
He just smiled.
“How is getting down Adam’s tracks going?”
“Yeah, good. Kid’s got potential, I’m telling you.”
“I believe you. I’ve heard him, and I’m sure you’ll do a great job with the album.”
“Thanks. We’re not the only ones who think he’s going places, either,” he said. “He’s having a meeting out by the pool with Adrian right now.”
I blinked. “Wait. You left Adam alone with Adrian?”
Ben blinked back at me. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because Adam is an innocent young fool and Adrian will have him signing his life and rights away in two-point-zero seconds flat?” I dropped the spoon, wiping my hands on a cloth. “Holy crap, Ben. How could you?”
“Crap,” said Gib.
“Look after your son while I take care of the other child,” I ordered, rising to my feet and making for the nearest hallway.
“He’s twenty-five. He can look after himself.”
“Oh, as if.”
At which point, I broke out into a run. God only knows what Adrian would have already talked the kid into. Lifelong musical servitude and a commission that would make a grown man cry. Sure enough, Adrian had dressed for the kill in a gray suit with one of his dumbass ugly, heavy gold chains around his neck. They really didn’t work for him.
Adam was scratching his head, staring at the thick wad of paperwork laid on the table. “I just really want to play my music, you know?”
“Of course you do,” said Adrian, passing the boy a pen.
“Stop!” I yelled, pulling out one of the fancy chairs beside Adam. “Don’t you sign a damn thing, you idiot.”
“Martha.” Adrian’s friendly smile turned feral. “How nice to see you. Is there a problem?”
“Adam, eyes on me.” The time spent dealing with a toddler had not gone to waste at all. “The guys have their own lawyers go over anything Adrian presents them with and never accept his first offer when contract time rolls around. Do you understand me?”
The manager’s laugh sounded both forced and fake. “But that’s a different situation. Adam here is just starting out and quite honestly, he’s fortunate I’m even—”
I held up my hand. “Shut it. You’ve had your chance to speak. It’s my turn now.”
“Well, what do you think I should do?” asked Adam with a heavy sigh.
“This might be the first offer you’ve received, but it’s not going to be the only one.”
“Maybe.”
I looked to heaven. Honestly. “Try definitely. You’re talented. Why do you think he flew up from L.A. to impress you with his bling?”
Adrian’s hand flew to his chunky chain in mock outrage. Or maybe it was real. Whatever. His teeth and suntan sure as hell weren’t. Scarily white veneers and orange skin he most definitely had not been born with. Ugh.
“Anyone who would encourage you to sign something without legal advice is not someone you want to work with.”
“I was trying to save the boy money,” said Adrian.
“Yet an unscrupulous business person in this position might try to get him on a hook with a ridiculous offer he’d regret in the first five minutes. Don’t you think?”
Adam’s mouth edged down. “Shit. Now I don’t know what to do.”
“Ben will lend you his lawyer. Don’t worry.” I patted the poor boy on the arm. “I get that it seems exciting and a good opportunity. But you never rush in without knowing exactly what you’re signing up for. Never. Are we understood?”
He tipped his chin in acknowledgement.
“Are you seriously going to take the advice of a woman wearing a T-shirt covered in cartoon dogs with spaghetti in her hair?” spluttered Adrian.
I groaned and bent my head. “I thought I got it all out. Adam, can you please?”
“Sure.” He started picking among the strands of hair. Ah, the glamour.
“And they’re Super Puppies, not dogs. Get it right.”
“Can’t you just be my manager?” asked Adam, still busy with my hair. Guitarists’ fingers really came in useful sometimes. “You’re scary like him, but in a way I can handle. I mean, I can talk to you without getting completely fucking confused and wound up about everything. Plus, those festivals you recommended the other day would all be perfect. If you could get me booked.”
“You know, I bet I could.”
He grinned. “That would be awesome. Ah, think I got all the noodles. There’s a bit of sauce in there you’ll need to wash out.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Look, I haven’t really given serious thought to managing you. But let me mull it over, all right?”
On the other side of the table, Adrian’s face had turned an unfortunate shade of purple. “You want Martha to manage you? Are you out of your mind? She’s a secretary, for heaven’s sake.”
“Executive personal assistant, thank you,” I snapped. “And an extremely experienced one. So if you think during the years I worked with the band I wasn’t all over everything the guys did making sure they weren’t getting ripped off or messed around with, you are kidding yourself.”
“What exactly are you insinuating?”
“Oh, don’t get litigious,” I said. “You’re a great manager, Adrian. I’m not denying it. But you’re not necessarily the best fit for every performer. No manager possibly could be.”
The man’s eyebrows merged into one flat pissed-off line.
“Whatever Adam does, he needs to take the time to ensure he’s well informed as to his responsibilities and the consequences of any contract he signs.” I crossed my arms. “Wouldn’t you agree, Adrian?”
“W-well, of course no one wants to take advantage of him.”
“Of course not.”
“Right. Okay,” said Adam, exhaling hard. “I’ll read through it all and get some legal advice then get back to you. Thank you.”
Adrian just grunted. Talk about being an unhappy camper.
I, however, smiled with delight and Adam seemed much more relaxed. Doing good deeds didn’t suck nearly as much as I’d thought it would. Besides, maybe I would make a good manager. Serious thought about the idea was definitely required.
The problems associated with possibly dating (or whatever we were doing) a bodyguard became very clear four days later. Four days during which I hadn’t seen Sam. Not even once.
Rumors about the new album were running rife. And paparazzi had taken to following the band members and their partners, trying to get the gossip. To make things even worse, Jimmy’s old flame, a big-time Hollywood actress, had just announced her engagement. So they wanted a statement from the singer about that too.
One ov
erzealous paparazzo in particular had been a thorough pain in the ass. The guy was way too gung-ho about his job, if repeatedly grabbing the back of David’s shirt and stepping in front of cars to try and get a picture were any indication. Spread thin trying to keep an eye on the still lurking photographer/stalker, more security came on board. Things turned intense.
Something I could have dealt with just fine, if Sam hadn’t up and completely disappeared on me. Apart from a text. One damn text.
“Wat den?” asked one of Jimmy and Lena’s twins. Not sure which one. I could never keep their names straight.
Me, the children, and one idiot drummer were sitting among a wide assortment of toys in the corner of the band’s practice room again. Meanwhile, Ben and Jimmy were busy inside the studio. David sat on one of the couches with a guitar resting in his lap and paper and pen at his side. He was lost in his own little world, which tended to happen when he wrote songs.
Since each other’s houses were considered some of the only safe places to visit, we’d all been hanging out together often. Fine with me. It kept them all happy and occupied to play together. The children and the band members.
Gib removed his thumb from his mouth. “Pwada.”
“That’s right,” I said, giving the child a high five for excellence. “Then, the Super Puppy team put on their new season Prada sunglasses and ran off into the sunset to frolic and play or whatever. Knowing that through their awesome styling tips and quite adequate life-saving rescue mission, the hamsters would all happily live to see another day. The end.”
The questioning twin just blinked at me. Guess she wasn’t used to my style of story-telling yet.
“Have to admit,” said Lena, studying her state-of-the-art camera, flicking through shots no doubt, “I was really worried there for a while when the hamster couldn’t decide what cut of jeans to get.”
“Flares was a daring option, but I really do believe they’re making a comeback,” I agreed. “Harry the hamster’s going to have all the street cred.”
Mal nodded, finishing up doing a third tiny plait on the head of one of the twins. “Your story had me on the edge of my seat, Marty. Which isn’t easy considering I’m sitting on the ground. Okay, another successful hairdo. Let’s hear it for Uncle Mal!”
