“Do you want to get a drink?” he asks.
“Thanks, but once my friend gets here I’m going home.”
“We can get a drink with you and your friend.” He ignores my response.
“No. But, thanks for the offer.”
People mill around and Grayson moves closer to me. He’s probably the same size as Kingston, which means he towers over me. His hand moves around my arm.
“We would like to meet your friend,” Katie says casually.
“Yeah. Katie wants to meet your friend.” There’s an edge to Grayson’s tone that makes it sound like a demand.
I’m feeling weird and don’t even try to pull my arm out of his grip. I don’t know if it’s the exhaustion, but my head feels light and I move with them.
“Mae!” I hear Kingston holler as we reach the edge of the curb.
Grayson holds my arm tighter when I try to turn around.
“Kingston!” I hear Katie exclaim beside me.
“Mae.” Kingston ignores her. He is right behind us, his voice sounds deeper than usual and I can tell he’s pissed off.
Grayson turns, and I follow.
Kingston automatically notices the look of concern across my face. He’s standing with two of the bouncers from the venue. I flick my eyes between Grayson and Katie.
“Kingston it’s so great to meet you!” Katie drawls.
Kingston glances at her momentarily, irritation flashes across his face. He steps toward Grayson and I, complete certainty and control taking over his demeanor.
“Get your hands off her.” He’s up in Grayson’s face.
“This the friend you were telling us about, Mae?” Grayson asks, not taking his eyes off Kingston, an eerie grin on his face.
The two guys step forward and Grayson lets my arm go. I stumble into Kingston’s body, his arms instinctively wrapping around me.
“Can I get a photo?” Katies asks.
And then, because this isn’t enough drama, lights start flashing. Cameramen, probably less than it feels like, yelling Kingston’s name. Asking who the girl is. The two bouncers keep Grayson back and we wade through the people and cameras.
“Keep your head down,” Kingston urges.
He’s on his phone, his arm tight around my waist. I look up as a car pulls to the curb.
“Get in.” Kingston says, opening the door.
I dive in, pushing myself to the far side of the back seat. Kingston sits in after me. The door closes, he rattles off our address as the driver manoeuvres through the mass of people.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. I feel clammy and dazed.
Kingston takes me in. “Did he hurt you? What was with the girl?”
I shake my head. “I’m so sorry,” I repeat.
“Why?” Kingston pulls me across the seat, into the middle, and tight into his body.
“That guy. Those photos. They’re going to be everywhere.”
“It’s all right,” he assures me. “I’ve done worse."
“I don’t feel well,” I confess. “I feel hot.”
“How much did you drink?”
“Only water.”
“You got the water yourself?” he asks.
“Yeah. Why?”
“How long were they around?” he quizzes me, concern showing on his face.
“I wish I had known. I would have looked for you earlier.”
“After you finished playing,” I answer, sleepy.
Kingston’s thumb strokes my arm, lulling me to sleep.
We arrive at the apartment and Kingston softly wakes me. He easily lifts me from the seat, arm around my back, my legs draped over his other. He takes me up to the en-suite of my bedroom and I sit on the edge of the tub.
“You look pale.” He holds his palm across my forehead, feeling my temperature. “I’ll get you some water.”
As he leaves, I not-so-gracefully sit myself next to the toilet and before I know it I’m throwing up the little amount of food I’ve eaten today.
I hear Kingston’s hurried footsteps. “Fuck, Mae.” He kneels beside me, hand on my back.
“Don’t look at me,” I groan, leaning up and flushing the toilet. I sit against the wall and take the glass of water from him. “I’m sorry,” I apologize for the hundredth time.
Kingston is sitting on the floor with me, his hands on my knees.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“This is gross.” I lower my head.
“And you got your own drinks?” he questions me, again.
“Yeah. Every time. You don’t think someone put something in them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you’re exhausted. But, fuck, I wish I could go back and throttle that guy.”
I shake my head. “I want a bath.”
“I’ll fill the tub,” he says.
I close my eyes and before I know it he’s sitting in front of my, softly waking me up.
“It’s ready. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep now, shower in the morning?” he asks.
I shake my head, feeling gross at the thought of the guys hand around my arm and Katie standing next to me with that smile on her face. I pull my shirt over my head.
“Do you want me to wait outside?” Kingston asks.
I look down at my sheer lace bra, and awkwardly nod. Knowing Kingston wants to see me naked, and this being the first time he possibly does is not how I’m sure we both planned it.
I lower myself into the tub and Kingston places my pajamas by the door.
He’s sitting on my bed when I come out.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
“Slightly.” I notice he’s pulled the covers back. I crawl into bed and he shifts up next to me. “You’re not going to stay in here?” I ask
“Do you want me to?”
“If you’re okay with lying next to a sweaty sick person …” My eyes are already closed.
“I’ll go get my sweats on.” He leaves.
Minutes later I feel him crawl in beside me, his hands tentatively touch my arm. I pull them and loop them around my stomach.
I need hands that feel like home, and I’m too sick to pretend otherwise.
“Thank you for looking after me,” I whisper, raspy and barely audible.
He kisses my shoulder. “Always.” He kisses my shoulder, again. “Next time I’ll do better.”
◆◆◆
“I can’t believe I’m in Toronto and I have no plans but to lie on this couch all day,” I joke, stretching out.
Kingston watches me from the kitchen. “I’m glad. You need the rest.”
His phone chimes on the counter. “You’re sure you’re good here by yourself?” He asks for what feels like the thousandth time.
“I’m good, King.” I sit up. “I think last night was a combination of things. I feel much better this morning.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re sure?”
“Go and do your interviews and have your meetings and kick ass at your show tonight!”
“I’ll call you when I have a break.”
I smile at him and he gives me a lopsided grin. His phone chimes again.
“My driver is persistent,” he mumbles, grabbing his things.
I watch him leave, wishing we were at a stage where I could tell him I need a hug. I double down under a blanket, hugging myself instead, and get ready to laze the day away.
I intermittently search Kingston’s name and Toronto, hoping that the photos posted from last night aren’t too damning. Weirdly, I can’t find any. The few articles posted are about his show and how captivating he is on stage.
I have a movie on in the background, but I’m mostly watching the clock, waiting for Kingston to get home, when Sammy calls.
“Hey,” I rub my eyes, sleepy as all hell.
“Mae-ster!”
“What you up to?” I ask.
“Not much. I stopped by to see how your brother was doing, and a heads up, just heard him talking to Kingston. Something a
bout some photos of you two at a bar in Kansas? Apparently the guys at work were hounding him about it.”
“Kansas?” I ask. “Kingston didn’t know what hands were in Kansas!” I remind Sammy.
“Oh, fuck,” she responds.
I put her on loudspeaker and search Kingston’s name online. Images of us appear on a fan page. They’re from the venue, not the jazz club. Kingston stands beside me at the bar, he’s leaning down close to my face.
“They’re from the venue.” I send them to Sammy.
“Oh. Damn. You look good, babe.” Sammy sounds distracted looking at the photos.
“Sammy,” I warn.
“Well, you do. I like that dress. I would like to borrow it when you’re back,” she says matter-of-factly. I laugh, trust Sammy to make me laugh at a time like this. “You two look ridiculously good together, sorry-not-sorry,” she finishes.
I groan. “Wait until you see the ones from last night. They’ll be much less flattering and will cause way more drama …”
“Last night?” Sammy suddenly sounds incredibly interested. “I’ll try to keep Logan offline,” she jokes.
I groan, resting my head on the back of the couch. “Trust Logan to try to ruin everything.”
“Everything?” She quirks. “What happened last night?”
I hear the key in the front door. “Not exactly about last night. I’ll tell you everything really soon. I have to go.” And I hang up.
A message comes through quickly after, from Sammy - You better tell me asap!!! Or else!!!!!!!!!!!
Kingston pads into the living room. “Hey.” He barely makes eye contact with me.
“How’d it go?” I ask, sitting up.
He fills up a glass with water, still avoiding me. “It went well,” he says.
“Any more intense crazy fans?” I joke.
He offers me a half-assed laugh. “I was thinking I might crash early. I’m super tired …” he finishes.
A surge of disappointment moves through me.
“The way you’re acting doesn’t happen to have anything to do with Logan calling you about photos from Kansas?” I ask. He finally looks at me. “Sammy called. She’s at Logan’s and heard him talking to you.” I continue.
He lifts his chin, nodding slowly. “Ahhh. Yeah. That was weird. But, no, I’m tired is all.” I know he’s lying, because he’s not making eye contact, again, and he looks to be in physical pain by simply being in my presence. “You’re feeling okay?” He quickly assesses me like a doctor.
I nod. “Thank you. Get some rest.” I give him the escape he needs.
“You, too,” He mutters, leaving the room and leaving me all alone to realize, once again, that this, whatever this is, whatever we thought this was - can never be.
CHAPTER ten
Before we leave for Montreal, Kingston shows me the photos from outside the venue. There’s a few of him in the guy's face and me trying to shield my face from the camera. They’re now referring to me as his ‘potential girlfriend’. I thank him for showing them to me and nothing else is said.
I’m distracting myself with counting road signs, when he finally speaks.
“About last night …” he begins.
“Not one of these about last night talks again,” I grumble. “I’m kind of over them.”
He chuckles. “I was stupid,” he admits. “Your brother’s incredibly intense.”
“My brother is intense, you’ve got that right,” I agree.
Kingston turns onto the highway and his phone lights up on the console - Logan Walker - flashes on the screen, somehow like he knew we were talking about him.
I choose to ignore it, and turn my focus back to the outside world.
Kingston lets it ring out. Barely a second later it rings again. Kingston puts it on silent and lets it vibrate out. The vibrating begins again as Logan’s name continues to flash, the map disappearing once again.
“You should probably answer that. We don’t have twin telepathy, but I’m more than sure it’s about those photos,” I say.
Kingston doesn’t budge, so I press the answer button and put it on loudspeaker.
“Loges, how’s it going?” Kingston looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“What happened in Toronto man?” Always one to get straight to the point, Logan sounds like his usual self.
Kingston clears his throat beside me, running his hand through his hair like he does when he’s put on the spot.
“Mae and I were going to mention that to you.”
“We spoke about Kansas last night …” Logan points out.
“Yeah. Didn’t think it was the best time to bring it up. Everything’s okay. It was a drunk fan causing a scene.” Kingston watches the open road in front of us, glancing at me when he notices my eyes on him.
“Is Mae okay?” Logan asks.
I roll my eyes.
“She’s fine, Logan.”
“Okay. I wanted to make sure. Starting to think you two driving together wasn’t the best idea. Forgot about the cameras following you. Have you and Taylah been speaking? Long distance sucks.”
“Ahhh, yeah, it’s good. It’s all good.” Kingston seems nervous all of a sudden. “Man. We’re pulling into our hotel now. Gotta go, speak later. Stop stressing.” And with that he hangs up.
“Long distance?” I ask. “Why did that sound like Logan thinks you and Taylah are in a relationship? Oh, and starting to think you two driving together wasn’t the best idea?” I quote.
“I told him that Taylah and I are seeing each other so he’d stop thinking that anything was happening between you and I,” Kingston says.
“He’s been thinking that?” I ask.
“Well, with the photos from Kansas and the guys badgering him.”
“So he thinks you’re seeing your PA?”
“Yeah,” Kingston says, gripping the steering wheel.
I shrug. “That’s a good idea.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Yeah. You heard him on the phone. He’s gone nuts. It sounds like he thinks he’s my father and I’m twelve years old or something.”
Kingston pulls off into a rest bay, the car bounces over gravel, coming to a halt in a parking spot. He turns his body to me, before he’s even turned off the car.
“I have to tell you something.” His forehead creasing.
“O-kay,” I say, skeptical.
“Taylah and I … we haven’t dated … but we’ve seen each other.”
I dip my head to the side knowing too well what he’s telling me. “I’m glad you’ve seen each other, considering she’s your personal assistant,” I say. “On and off.” I add.
He doesn’t see humor in my sarcasm. “We’ve hooked up.”
“I gathered that,” I say. “So why’d you lie about it?”
“Things were tense between us. I honestly didn’t mention her because I do feel weird about having a personal assistant. It’s not normal to me. I like to do things myself, be in control.”
“Uh-huh.” I watch him.
“But then it seemed like you were upset by me mentioning her.”
“I was drunk. You had gone off with another woman. And I had just kissed someone for the first time since Dale.” I remind him. “Also, yes, I was a little upset.” I finish.
“What happened between her and I was nothing.”
“But, you still lied?”
“It’s not really a lie because we aren’t on and off in that way. We hooked up, once, and then nothing. She works for me now, nothing else to it.”
“You could have told me that.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I can handle the truth, as long as it’s not yes we’re still seeing each other when you and I are holding hands like teenagers.”
He chuckles, and then stops himself when he notices that I’m not smiling.
“I hate being lied to,” I say.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“So, what was Logan talking
about when he mentioned us driving together? This whole thing was a set up?” I ask.
“No,” he says immediately. “I’m not your bodyguard, Mae. I hate how Logan brings this tension between us.”
“Me, too.” I look out the window. “It’s fine, Kingston. Honestly. Who you’ve been with in your past is your business. Unless they’re in your future in a different way, then I obviously want to know.”
“I want us to be open and upfront about things,” he says, his hand moving to my knee.
I turn and look at him. His strikingly handsome face, skin pinched in a frown.
“I like the sound of that.” I place my hand on his.
He grabs his cell, types, and brings it to his ear.
“Hi, I’m wondering if I can book a table for two for tonight?” I watch him, dubious. “Seven would be great, thanks. Under, James Smith.” He replies to the person on the other end, and hangs up.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Going on a date,” he quips, a small grin on his lips.
“You are?”
“You are.”
“I’m going on a date with James Smith?” I joke. “Is he a nice guy? Thanks for the set up.”
He grumbles across from me, puts his hand back on my knee and winks.
◆◆◆
I stand in the master bedroom of the townhouse we’re in for the next two nights, I stare at myself in the full length mirror.
Kingston said to dress up, so I’m wearing a dark plum midi dress that Sammy lent me years ago. It has an asymmetrical neckline with thin straps, hugging tight at my waist and hips.
My arms feel tingly from the anticipation of tonight, of what it means, or could mean for us. Or, the possible downfall of these feelings we shouldn’t have.
I’m leaning on the counter in the kitchen when Kingston saunters in, dressed in navy trousers, and a white open collared suit shirt.
He stops short of me, eyes roaming my body, landing on my lips, then my eyes. The first time he’s unapologetically taken all of me in.
“You look incredible,” he says, taking the words right out of my own thoughts.
He holds out his hand, mine are trembling, and I swear his are, too. We both glance down at the scar that’s edged up my forearm. He offers me a warm smile, his eyes softening.
When I Was Yours, When You Were Mine Page 8