Trouble: Tyler and Katie

by Selena Kitt

  Remember Alisha-butterface-McKenna.

  “You could have stayed in bed, then,” I said as Tyler came back with two hard-boiled eggs—we kept them cooked and peeled in the fridge for a handy, protein-rich, healthy snack—and the carton of goat’s milk. He liked it in his coffee, instead of creamer.

  “Nah.” He made a face, talking through a mouthful of egg. He’d shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “No fun without you.”

  “So… when did you talk to Alisha McKenna?” I decided to just bring it up, no fuss or drama, pushing the paper across the table, past the coffee pot and carton of milk.

  Tyler swallowed, looking down at the headline, and then back up at me. I saw something flicker in his eyes, then he sighed.

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, sitting back and cinching the tie on my cream silk robe a little tighter before crossing my arms over my chest—which, I had to admit, was nowhere near as impressive as Alisha McKenna’s. “My phone’s been ringing off the hook. I haven’t answered it—I didn’t know what to say.”

  “Fuck,” he said again, picking up the paper, his gaze scanning down as he read the article. “I told her not to say anything.”

  “Did you?” I raised my eyebrows, feeling something tighten in my chest. “What else did you tell her not to say?”

  Tyler looked up at me, cocking his head when he saw my expression, and then he grinned.

  “Baby, you jealous?”

  “Should I be?” I lifted an eyebrow at him, trying to make light of it.

  “Never.” His gaze softened, and he slid out of his seat and switched sides, snugging up next to me. His trunks were still wet, and cold seeped into the side of my robe, but I didn’t care when he put his arm around me and nuzzled my ear. “There’s no one but you, baby.”

  “So, you told her you were leaving the band?” I couldn’t quite let it go, even with his reassuring presence next to me.

  “It wasn’t like that…” he said. “She was on the set last week, when I had that meeting with Arnie? She stopped me for just a few minutes. You know how she is…”

  “Oh, I know.” My snarky tone elicited a chuckle from him.

  “I just… I didn’t really say I was leaving the band. I was tired—and I said it was getting to be too much. The show, recording, and next summer, we’ll be going back on tour. How in the hell am I supposed to do it all…?”

  “I know. It’s a lot.” This is just what we’d been talking about, round and round. I swallowed down the fact that he’d said all of this to Alisha McKenna. What I really wanted was to get to the center of the issue. “So… now what?”

  “Fuck,” he said again, pulling me closer, tucking my head under his chin where it fit perfectly. “Rob. The band is gonna freak.”

  “Arnie,” I reminded him, and he groaned.

  Their agent, Arnie, was going to take it the hardest. Even though Arnie been the one to get Tyler the audition for Album in the first place—and he was the only other person Tyler had told about his condition—Arnie’d gone ostrich about the fact that Tyler’s time in the band was physically limited. He definitely wouldn’t be happy about this leaking to the press.

  “I guess it’s time to tell them,” Tyler said softly.

  My heart got caught in my throat. I lifted my head to look at him, blinking in surprise. I’d suspected that Alisha-just-gimme-a-minute-of-your-time-McKenna had stretched the truth—at least, once I stopped seeing green and being jealous and I started thinking more rationally, that’s what I thought—but hearing Tyler say it out loud, making it real, really stunned me.

  “For real?” I swallowed, searching his face.

  He was tired—those dark circles under his eyes they covered up in make-up were the result of five a.m. shoots and late-night recording sessions. Never mind the nights he spent tossing and turning beside me in bed. He’d been pulled taut, like a guitar string tuned too tight, ready to snap. Something had to give.

  “I guess so… yeah.” He squeezed me against him, tossing the paper on the table.

  “You guess so?” I raised my eyebrows, putting my arms around his neck. “Ty, you need to be sure. This isn’t something to guess about.”

  “I don’t know, maybe I knew what I was doing…” His gazed shifted away from mine, then back again. “When I said that—I was in a hurry, I was tired, it was off the cuff, but… maybe some part of me knew, if it came out in the press, then I’d have to…”

  “To?” I prompted when his voice trailed off.

  “To face it.” He made a face, slightly pained. “To decide. It’s time, Katie. I just… I can’t do it anymore.”

  “Trouble?”

  He nodded.

  “So, it’s over.”

  We both heard the front door slam.

  “Tyler!” Rob. His voice shook the whole house. There weren’t many people who had the security code to the gate at the front of the property.

  “You forgot to set the alarm again when you came in last night, didn’t you?” I rolled my eyes as Tyler slid off the bench seat, but he didn’t get far, because Rob was already stomping down the hallway toward the kitchen.

  “Goddamnit, Tyler, where are you?”

  “Right here, bruh.” Tyler leaned opened the fridge, reaching in as Rob burst into the kitchen, his face a storm cloud.

  “What the fuck?” Rob frowned at his brother as Tyler took an organic yogurt out of the fridge, closing the door. “You guys don’t answer your phones anymore?”

  “I was out for a swim.” Tyler shrugged as he pulled the lid off his yogurt, finding a spoon in the dishwasher. His nonchalance in the face of his brother’s anger only served to make Rob even madder. I knew that look.

  “Did you see the article?” Rob’s gaze dropped from me to the kitchen table, where the paper was still open, screaming the headline. “Did you talk to her? Is it true?”

  “Yeah.” Tyler nodded, spooning yogurt into his mouth as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. I looked between the two of them, holding my breath. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

  “Yeah?” Rob repeated, looking stunned. “Yeah to which part?”

  “All of it,” Tyler replied calmly, licking the back of his spoon.

  I waited for Rob’s explosion. He didn’t get mad often, but when he did, it was usually spectacular—and often involved breaking things. Fortunately, there wasn’t much out in the kitchen for him to break, unless he grabbed one of the cast iron pans off the stove and started beating on the marble floor.

  It probably would have happened, if Sabrina hadn’t appeared, breathless, in the doorway, with a baby on her hip and a barely-walking toddler holding her hand.

  “Rob,” she said, a warning in her voice. She glanced over at me, giving me an apologetic smile. “Hey guys, sorry to bust in like this. We couldn’t get you on the phone, and we were a little worried…”

  I raised my eyebrows at that—we all knew it was a lie. They were worried, all right, but not about our personal well-being. They were worried that what they’d read in Variety was the truth. Tyler was leaving Trouble.

  The truth hadn’t fully sunk in yet, even for me.

  Trouble without Tyler was like peanut butter without jelly. Impossible.

  “It’s true.” Rob turned to his wife as Sabrina came fully into the kitchen. “It’s all fucking true.”

  “Rob,” Sabrina spoke in that warning tone again, glancing at the kids. Their littlest one wasn’t old enough to repeat it, but the toddler was.

  Lucy saw me and brightened, letting go of her mother’s hand and running toward the kitchen table, squealing, “Aunt Katie!” I caught her before she could run into it, tickling her and making her giggle. Tyler smiled, finishing the last of his yogurt and tossing the spoon in the sink.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Rob looked at his brother, not angry anymore, and I could sympathize with the hurt, betrayed look in his eyes. Then he asked the million-dollar question, the one I
knew Tyler wouldn’t answer. “Why?”

  “It’s really true?” Sabrina carried the baby over—Henry was a big-eyed, dark-haired butterball—sliding onto the bench seat across from me at the kitchen table, and she asked her question in my direction. “Did you know?”

  “I… no.” I shook my head, meeting Tyler’s eyes. “Not really. Not… officially.”

  Sabrina gave me a look, like she wasn’t sure she quite believed me.

  “Why?” Rob asked again, watching Tyler throw his yogurt container away and join me at the kitchen table. Little Lucy was happy to see him and put her chubby arms around his neck, giving him one of those sloppy, open-mouthed kisses toddlers give.

  “What are you so pissed about?” Tyler asked, laughing and wiping saliva off his cheek. I had to smile. Thank goodness for babies—it was keeping everyone’s temper from edging into the red. “Maybe the label will let Sabrina join the band now.”

  Rob crossed his arms, leaning against the kitchen island, glaring at the cozy scene we made. Clearly, he wasn’t ready to concede and join us at the table.

  “Oh, come on, Ty,” Sabrina protested. “You know we never wanted you out. It wasn’t about that. It’s never been about that.”

  “Oh, I know.” Tyler pushed the coffee pot out of Lucy’s reach. “But if the label’s faced with no Trouble at all, or Trouble-plus-Sabrina, they’re going to choose door number two.”

  “Maybe.” Rob scowled, but he uncrossed his arms. “But we didn’t want it this way. Besides, Sabrina’s doing fine on her own.”

  Sabrina had recorded her own album, which had gone platinum, and she’d opened for Trouble last year on tour. It was a good compromise, and it had worked really well. Except that Sabrina had been just-barely pregnant with Henry at the time, so she was extra-tired, and had morning sickness. They’d brought Lucy on tour, along with a nanny who seemed more interested in Rob than she had been in taking care of the baby. They’d fired her halfway through the tour, and I ended up nanny-ing for the rest, which is why Lucy loved me so much now.

  “Ty…” Sabrina shifted the baby on her hip, keeping Henry’s chubby hand from reaching for a coffee mug. She looked both sad and concerned. “What is it? Are you unhappy?”

  “No.” Tyler shook his head, distracted by Lucy’s attempts to reach the coffee pot he’d placed out of her reach. “No, really. It’s not that.”

  “So, what is it?” Rob came over to slide in next to Sabrina at the table. His son smiled and reached for him, and Rob took Henry from Sabrina. “What the hell is it, man? What did we do?”

  “It’s not you.” Tyler sighed, and I put my hand on his arm, a silent gesture of support. I had no idea what he was going to tell them—was he about to spill everything? I just wanted him to know, whatever he decided, I was there. I would always be there.

  He glanced at me over Lucy’s dark head—she looked exactly like Sabrina—giving me the ghost of a smile before he looked across the table to face his brother.

  “It’s not you, it’s me?” Rob scoffed. “Is that where you’re going with this?”

  “No.” Tyler shook his still-wet head. “It’s… well, yeah. I guess it is me. I just can’t do it all.”

  “That goddamned series.” Rob handed the baby back over to Sabrina, and I could tell he was ready to go off again, whether the kids were in the room or not. “It’s been a huge distraction from day one. I don’t even know why Arnie got it for you. What the fuck was he thinking?”

  “He got it for me because I asked him to,” Tyler said softly.

  “If you’re going to quit something, then quit that,” Rob snapped.

  “Rob,” Sabrina said for the third time, although the warning in her tone was sharp enough this time that it made Henry start to cry. “Don’t.”

  “Fuck that.” Rob slammed his fist on the table, making the coffee pot and mugs jump, but not topple, and Lucy started crying, too. “This isn’t happening. I’m not letting this happen.”

  “You don’t have a choice.” Tyler let a sniffling Lucy go and she climbed into my lap, sucking her thumb, but it only took her a moment to notice she was closer to the elusive coffee pot. Rob’s face grew darker at his brother’s words—he didn’t like hearing that he didn’t have control. “I quit.”

  “You have a contract,” Sabrina reminded him softly.

  “I know.” Tyler shrugged one shoulder. “They can sue me. I can afford it.”

  “Jesus.” Rob sat back, looking stunned and defeated. “Why? Tyler, why are you doing this?”

  “I have to.”

  “You don’t have to,” Rob protested. “If you’re overworked, we can cut back. We can… do something… but you can’t just quit. You can’t—”

  “I have to.” Tyler closed his eyes for a moment, with a little shake of his head, and I knew then, he was going to tell them. I edged closer, still holding Lucy between us.

  “You don’t—” Rob tried to make the same protest again, but Tyler stopped him with just two words.

  “I’m sick.”

  The silence was like the weight of the world. It stretched forever, until Lucy squealed and put her arms around Tyler’s neck to give him another kiss. He accepted it, and her, holding her in his lap. Sabrina’s eyes were filling with tears.

  “Sick?” Rob could barely get the word out. There was a horror in his eyes I remembered experiencing the first time Tyler told me, too. “Sick how?”

  “I’m not dying or anything.” Tyler was quick to dispel that, seeing how Sabrina was welling up. “But I’ve got… I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. The pain in my hands… I… I can’t play anymore. Not like I used to.”

  “That’s why you had the studio musicians in on the album.” The realization crossed Rob’s face as he sat back, looking even more stunned now than he had when he first walked in. “It wasn’t because you were busy with the series. It was because…”

  Rob’s voice trailed off, like he couldn’t even say the words. As if saying the words might make it true. He looked like he wanted to wake up from a living nightmare. I knew that feeling.

  “Yeah,” Tyler agreed with a grimace. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I just… I wanted to go as long as I could.”

  “Tyler, I’m so sorry.” Sabrina’s tears were falling now, and just looking at her made me want to cry. “Is it… I mean, are you sure? You got a second opinion?”

  “A second opinion,” Rob repeated, hope flitting across his face. “Good idea. Look, bruh, we can afford the best treatments, the finest doctors. We can—”

  “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt,” Tyler told them with a sad little smile. “They’ve got me on the best meds. And changing my diet has helped.”

  “That’s why you stopped the junk food!” Sabrina exclaimed, looking over at me. I just nodded.

  “But there’s no cure,” Tyler said, looking across the table at his brother. “You can’t fix this, bruh.”

  “Fuck.” Rob put his head in his hands, elbows on the table.

  “Yeah,” Tyler agreed.

  What more was there to say?

  Rob warned Tyler that Arnie wasn’t going to take it well—and neither was the label. Or the rest of the band. But there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. Tyler simply couldn’t physically do it much longer, and his argument—that he didn’t want to let everyone down mid-album or mid-tour—was a sound one. Quitting now would give Trouble time to regroup and decide what direction they wanted to go.

  “Call me,” Sabrina whispered into my ear when she hugged me goodbye.

  I nodded my agreement, handing Lucy over before they went out the door. I’d given Lucy part of a banana to gnaw on, and I had half of it in my hair. She seemed fascinated with the way the light caught in the blonde strands and couldn’t keep her sticky hands off it.

  “I need a shower,” I announced when Tyler closed the front door.

  “I need a vacation.” He turned and took me in his arms, laughing when I showed him the cl
umps of banana in my hair.

  “That was really brave,” I told him, kissing the side of his neck. “I’m so sorry, baby. I know you didn’t want to have to do that.”

  “Let’s get the hell out of here.” He pulled back to look at me, half-smiling.

  “Where to?” I smiled back. It was relief, having the truth out in the open, the last vestige of his secret told.

  “Away.” His hands moved down to cup my ass. I squealed when he gave it a good squeeze. “Far, far away. Somewhere no one can find us.”

  “The paparazzi is always watching.” I made a face. I understood the inclination, wanting to run away—this news would make the press swarm around us, wherever we went. “Where can we go?”

  “How about your mom’s?” he suggested after a moment, and I laughed until I almost choked. Then I looked at his face and saw he wasn’t kidding.

  “You’re not kidding?”

  “No one would think to look there.” He grinned. “Think she’d have us?”

  “You really want to sleep on a fold-out couch and eat oatmeal out of a box?” I asked, hoping to dissuade him.

  “You’re so spoiled.” He laughed. “Come on—we’ll dodge the paparazzi and fly commercial.”

  “First-class?” I asked hopefully, and he laughed again.

  “Come on, spoiled brat, let’s go on an adventure.”

  I wasn’t keen on spending time at home with my mother, but I couldn’t resist the mischievous look in Tyler’s eyes.

  I never could say no to him.

  Chapter Two

  “We should pitch a tent,” Tyler said over his shoulder. He stood looking out the second-story window at my mother’s property. It was, admittedly, kind of pretty. She had ten acres, most of it wooded, and there was a little pond out back.

  “There are bugs outside,” I reminded him sleepily, patting his pillow. “Come back to bed.”

  “I saw a deer.” He was sipping coffee, which meant he’d already been down to visit the kitchen. I wondered if my mother was awake. It was a Saturday, so she didn’t have to work. “And the raccoons really want to get into the garbage bin. They’re like Ocean’s Eleven out there.”