Resurrection

by Karina Bliss

  While she was online, she considered searching entertainment sites to see if the sex tape had surfaced yet, but resisted. Watching it had taught her one brutal lesson. I could destroy myself with this. She might have no control over what was said about her, but she could retain control over her exposure to it.

  Privately, she made a solemn vow. I will not read, watch, or listen to anything related to the sex tape. She felt calmer after making the decision. Only idiots went into graveyards at night. Returning to the kitchen, she whisked up a yogurt dressing and formalized her game plan.

  Narrow down a location within a couple of hours’ drive.

  Somewhere warm…she’d only bought California clothing.

  Find cheap accommodation. She thought of her meager savings. A trailer park?

  Find a job. Maybe she should check job sites first? An online search should reveal which towns had prospects at least.

  “What are you doing?”

  Startled, she nearly dropped the lemon she was squeezing into the dressing. “Making dinner.”

  Moss looked at her food prep, then the neatly laid dining table, and his frown made her feel both foolish and an interloper. “I’m used to feeding children,” she explained, then realized how that sounded when he raised his eyebrows. “Preparing their evening meal,” she clarified, finishing her task.

  “It’s not even seven.”

  “And too early. Of course.” She hadn’t eaten since Travis’s phone call. The reminder of the rocker diminished her appetite again. She dropped the lemon into the trash and rinsed her hands under the faucet.

  “If you’re hungry, eat.” Moss must have had the same realization. “But don’t feel you have to prepare food for anyone else.”

  “I need to be busy,” she admitted, drying her hands on a dish towel. “I can’t just sit here and drink all your booze. That’s my mother’s trick.” His blunt honesty was catching.

  He sighed. “I thought of a job for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Work for me.”

  “I’d already considered that,” she confessed. “But it’s obvious you guys get cleaners in, and with Consuela—”

  “God, no! Not this sh—” He paused as though finding his manners somewhere. “Domestic stuff. You need a place to stay and basic living expenses. I need a driver until my license is reinstated in three months.” He named a figure high enough to trip-wire her pity radar. She shook her head.

  “I’m done freeloading off guys.”

  “It’s half of what I spend on cabs a week,” he said impatiently. “And I’m sure you earned your keep with Zander.”

  Her cheeks warmed as anger warred with embarrassment. “I’m not having sex with you.”

  “Good to know, but I meant he wouldn’t have been an easy boyfriend.”

  “Oh.” Expecting people to put her down was a hard habit to break, especially when her mother had been so good at it. “Sorry.” She busied herself realigning the dish towel on its rail. It’s… I’m still defensive.”

  “You heard my conversation with Dimity. We’re literally driving each other crazy. I’m used to having freedom to go wherever I want, whenever I want. And don’t kid yourself that you won’t earn the money. I go out most nights. We’re talking pick-ups at two or three a.m.” He took the dish towel off her to stop her fussing. “The upside is that I sleep mornings, which gives you the opportunity to study. Usually we rehearse, write, do band business from eleven a.m. until six, but I’ll ride in with Seth, and text you to pick me up later.”

  He’d thought about this. Searching his expression, she didn’t see pity, and yet she sensed it and that made her reluctant to accept his offer. As she hesitated, her cell buzzed a text from Lucinda. “Excuse me, it’s from my boss.”

  A journalist just showed up at the hotel looking for you. I fobbed him off. You were right, pushy and nasty. Anything we can do, let us know.

  Whatever hope she’d had of the sex tape going unnoticed, evaporated. Which meant pity had become the least of her problems. “I accept, with one condition,” she told Moss. “If anyone finds out what I look like now…tracks me down…I’ll disappear.” Despite her effort to appear calm, her voice rose on the next words. “I can’t do paparazzi again. I just can’t.”

  “Got it. No pension plan.”

  This man was a master at deflating rising hysteria.

  “Actually, I have one more condition.” This time she kept her voice steady, but her gaze shifted to his left ear.

  “Of course you do.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t watch the sex tape while I’m in your employ.” Travis’s hands jamming her face into his groin…

  “I have zero interest in watching Travis Calvert mess up another performance.”

  She was almost startled into a laugh. Almost.

  Moss searched her face. “Too soon?”

  A spark of rebellion flickered. “Too true.”

  He almost smiled. Almost. “I have a condition too. Outside your driving responsibilities, you’re a free agent.” He looked at the set dining table, the salad. “I don’t want you running around after me.”

  “No looking after. Right.”

  “Don’t take it personally.” For the first time he sounded uncomfortable. “Seth and Dimity will love this, but coming together for mealtimes isn’t my thing.”

  “So talking over our day together will happen when?”

  He took a second to process, then his shoulders relaxed. “Very funny.”

  She smiled. “Message received. You need your space.” It was nice to be the one doing the reassuring for a change.

  From the hall, there was the sound of the front door opening and a scampering of feet.

  “Incoming,” Seth yelled.

  A tan Jack Russell with a white muzzle tore into the kitchen, yipping in excitement as she scrabbled to climb Lily’s shins. Moss said sternly, “Madeleine, here,” and she skittered over to him, sat on his bare feet and gazed up at him adoringly.

  Lily couldn’t focus on all that cuteness. She was steeling herself to meet Seth PST…Post Sex Tape.

  Should she acknowledge the scandal or ignore it? This wasn’t an elephant in the room, it was a tyrannosaurus rex, well hung. With an erection. She started to fidget. And Seth was her friend. What would it be like facing strangers? She might as well hang a sign around her neck. Unclean.

  Moss handed her the wriggling dog. “You don’t owe anyone anything. Not an explanation, not an excuse, not an apology. Not embarrassment or shame. It’s no one’s business but your own.”

  “Sure.” She patted the ecstatic dog with damp hands. She was absolutely not discussing the recording with him.

  Seth wandered in and dropped his car keys on the counter. She looked for a telltale flicker of disgust in his eyes. All she saw was an excruciating awareness of how fucking awful this had to be for her.

  He opened his arms.

  Her eyes teared. Passing Moss the dog, she dove in for a Seth hug. “Thanks for the bolt-hole.”

  His arms tightened. “Anytime.” He held her away from him, his hazel eyes kind. “What can I say that would help?”

  “Nothing.” Her glasses had been dislodged by his hug. As she straightened them, she produced a tremulous smile. “The truth is out there.”

  “It’s not the truth,” Moss said, behind her. “It’s a few minutes of your private life that was never meant to be shared.”

  “He’s right,” Seth said. “Hold your head high.”

  “Okay.” She was among lions, and she would find the courage to be a lion too.

  Even if inside she was a scaredy cat.

  Chapter Eight

  Seth drove her to a car lot “owned by a friend” the next morning. The Kiwi drummer made friends everywhere, but she was still surprised his influence extended to the secondhand dealership in Playa del Rey that was advertising a ‘summer budget blowout.’ Right up her wallet.

  She refused his offer to come in and kic
k tires with her. “Mom dated a lot of motorheads, I’ve picked up some tips.” She didn’t want him to realize how broke she was when she discussed finance options.

  He accepted his dismissal cheerfully. “They’ll give you a good deal if you mention my name, cuz.”

  The four of them had finessed her cover over dinner—the only reason Moss joined them at the table. Lily was Seth’s second cousin in the final two months of a year-long OE—overseas experience—apparently a rite of passage for young Kiwis. After touring the States she’d invited herself to stay and was earning bed and board by driving Moss around. Fortunately her American accent had softened in England. “Just throw in a few British and Kiwi sayings when you talk to people,” Seth had advised.

  The dealer beamed when she mentioned her ‘cousin’s’ name and steered her toward cars five grand above her price range, saying he’d take the hit.

  Lily smelled a rat. “Gee, you and Sam are really close, huh?”

  “Like brothers.”

  “Yeah, well your ‘brother’s’ name is Seth. How about we work to my budget, minus the secret subsidy my interfering friends have offered?”

  Sheepishly, he’d steered her to the cheaper end of the lot, and an hour later she drove her eight and a half thousand dollar purchase home, adding another thirty miles to the ninety-two thousand miles on the clock. It took ten of those to remember how to use manual transmission again. Most of that was down to being mad.

  She parked the car between Dimity’s BMW and Seth’s 4WD in the hope the rust would spread and marched into the house, her temper only slightly mollified by Madeleine’s wagging, stub-tailed joy in seeing her.

  Picking up the dog, she hunted her human parents to the kitchen where Seth was expertly flipping pancakes, while Dimity stirred a pot on the stove. Berry syrup perfumed the air.

  “Right on time for brunch,” Seth said, looking like every woman’s muscled mash-up fantasy in an apron that said, ‘And this is just what I can do in the kitchen.’

  Lily put her hands on her hips. “At what point did I suggest I needed a handout?”

  “Sorry, what?” Dimity said, all innocence, but Seth mistimed a pancake flip and it slid onto the kitchen floor.

  “Don’t bother denying it.” Madeline scrambled to get down and Lily let her loose. The dog sniffed at the pancake, then tugged at the edges. “Remember what you used to call me, before we became friends?” she demanded of Dimity. “A drone.”

  “That was bef—”

  “I haven’t finished. You once told me that I set equality back a thousand years by perpetuating the myth of the helpless female…that I refused to take responsibility for myself.”

  Dimity tried to speak again and she overrode her. “You were right. But I’m not that woman anymore, and no sex tape is taking my newfound independence away from me. Neither are my friends. If you won’t let me pay my way, I can’t stay here. I mean it.”

  Any hint of ‘you can’t cope’ supercharged her own doubts. With so much out of her control, she had to keep whatever autonomy she could.

  “You also said you could swallow your pride and accept help when you needed it.” Trust Dimity to come back fighting.

  “And I phoned you and you’ve helped me. I’ll take all the moral support I can get but I won’t be babied through this. It’s hard enough holding onto my self-respect as it is.”

  “Can’t a guy sleep in peace around here, it’s only noon.” Moss wandered in barefoot, looking like he’d just woken up, with ruffled hair and sleepy eyes. In jeans and a black T-shirt, so faded it glowed brown, he stretched out his arms and yawned wide. Every muscle in his forearms and biceps tightened and released.

  “Were you in on this?” Lily demanded.

  “Of course.” Sidestepping the dog worrying the pancake on the floor, he started opening cupboards and drawers. “In my defense, my motives were entirely selfish.”

  Seth groaned.

  “What?” Nudging his bandmate aside, Moss checked the cupboard above the stove. “She’s my driver and I have my bad-boy rep to consider.” He hadn’t put a belt on his jeans and as he reached up they slid down, revealing the taut upper curves of his ass. Lily averted her eyes.

  “Watch and learn, you clown.” Seth faced her, his expression contrite. “Lily, we’re sorry. We fucked up.”

  “As long as you remember,” Dimity qualified, “that you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

  “Okay,” she said. It was hard to stay righteous in the face of their obvious concern and Moss’s blatant disinterest.

  Having found a plate and a fork, he speared a couple of pancakes, and leaned forward to sniff the pot of simmering berries.

  “So, what did you get?” Swiping the spoon from Dimity, he served himself a generous portion of the bright fruit.

  “A Smart For Two.”

  Seth gave a snort of laughter. “Priceless.”

  Narrow-eyed, Moss looked at her. Lily returned a limpid gaze.

  “Never heard of it,” Dimity said. Scooping up Madeleine, she handed the dog to Seth and started picking up pieces of pancake from the floor.

  “It’s a tiny two-seater hatchback.” Seth fondled the dog’s ears. “A perfect car for a clown.”

  Frowning, Dimity dropped the pancake fragments into the trash. “I’m not sure if that’s the image we should project when we’re billing the band as the next big thing.”

  Moss’s gaze hadn’t wavered from Lily’s. “Relax, she’s bluffing. A Smart For Two is not a car for someone shoring up their self-respect.” Unexpectedly, he grinned at her, a flash of a grin gone before she could process the feeling it gave her.

  “For God’s sake, show some sensitivity,” Seth said, exasperated.

  But tactlessness beat pity every time. “It’s not a Smart For Two,” Lily conceded. “I figured I’d need to factor in Moss’s ego so I went for something more spacious. I bought a silver Honda Element 2006.”

  It was Moss’s turn to groan. “Why?”

  She ticked off the list on her fingers. “It’s reliable, economical, and practical—”

  “Make her stop,” he begged.

  “It also has removable rear seats if we need to transport music gear.”

  “That’s its only benefit.” Moss found a mug and filled it from the coffee pot.

  “And,” she finished triumphantly, “the last owner installed a navigation system.”

  Seth lifted the dog so they were face to face. “Now your Uncle Moss will be able to find his way out of his own ass,” he explained, and Madeleine licked his cheek.

  Lily and Dimity laughed. Moss shook his head. “And you say I’m the clown?”

  Dimity swiped the spoon from him, and returned to stirring the berries. “I’m starting to think this driver thing could really work. With a responsible person behind the wheel, there’s no reason for you ever to go AWOL again.”

  Moss scowled. “Lily will be working for me, not you,” he reminded her. “I’m going back to bed to try and pretend this was all a bad dream.” Coffee mug in one hand, he picked up his plate with the other.

  “Thank you, mate, for the pancakes,” Seth encouraged.

  “We really must talk about your constant need for approval.”

  “Wait up.” Lily followed him down the hall. “I’ve insured the car and filled the tank so I’m officially reporting for duty.” Still smarting from being treated as a charity case, she wanted to start earning her keep.

  “I won’t need you this afternoon. We’ve got a venue sound check and then a teaser gig tonight.” For some reason, he clenched his jaw. “I’ll ride with Seth.”

  “Okay, but so we’re clear, I’ve clocked on.”

  “Noted.” Handing her his plate, he opened his bedroom door a couple of inches and took back his breakfast.

  “The first step is to exchange cell numbers,” she prompted.

  “Mine’s plugged into the charger next to the coffee table in the living room. Have at it.” He nudged the door ope
n with his hip, and she caught a glimpse of filmy curtains, a gleam of blue water beyond them, and a disheveled king bed before the door clunked shut behind him.

  “So, I’ll wait for your call, then,” she called through the wood.

  The lock clicked.

  * * *

  Moss’s voice growled in her ear. “Wakey, wakey, driver. Time to get to work.”

  Lily surfaced from a dreamless sleep, fumbled for her glasses on the bedside table, and peered groggily at the man-shadow standing by her bed. “What time is it?” She and the dog had still had the place to themselves when she’d climbed into bed at eleven, her eyes tired from studying. She’d had a lot of catching up to do.

  “Who cares? Twenty-four hour service, remember?”

  She flung a leg out of bed, remembered she was naked, and scrambled to cover herself with a sheet. “Go away, I’m not decent.”

  “Spoilsport,” he said as he left. He sounded disgustingly chipper for—blearily, she peered at her cell—one a.m.?

  Making a mental note to wear pajamas in future, she switched on a lamp and fumbled her way into black pants and a patterned blouse. Tying a cashmere sweater around her waist, she slid her feet into flats. She’d already figured smart casual would be the most professional and versatile attire for this job.

  Groggy with sleep, she gathered her hair into a loose topknot with a scrunchie as she walked into the living area, lit only by a table lamp. Presumably, the concert had gone great, Dimity and Seth were now safely tucked up in bed down the hall, and Moss McFadden was too wired to sleep. She yawned wide and tried to concentrate.

  What was she going to need? Glasses, water bottle…apple? She opened the fridge, took two. Laptop? Check. Everything went into an oversized handbag. Blanket. She yawned again. Grabbing a throw off the couch, she slung it across her shoulders and stood blankly. There was something else. The whine of the garage door opening clued her in. Moss.