Remember Me: Music For The Heart: Book 4

by Starr, Faith

  “I can read, Nick. Mason, please call Camilla.”

  “It’s kinda late,” Jonas warned.

  “I don’t give a shit. Lizzie’s reputation is on the line. This situation needs to be handled, as in, yesterday.”

  Mason placed the call via Bluetooth. I barely let Camilla speak before my tirade began.

  “Ryan, slow down.” Camilla yawned into the phone. Mason gave me the “I told you so” look. Who cared? She had to know I’d call as soon as I heard and saw the news. “It’s late for a phone call, don’t you think?”

  “I’m sorry if I woke you. We all had our phones silenced because of the funeral then worked in the studio. The guys just saw your text and showed me the shit posted online.”

  “Why don’t we handle this tomorrow?”

  Was she crazy? “Tomorrow is too late.”

  “Very well. I hate to have to lay this on you during such a tough time. I’m sorry for your loss. I would have been at the service, but I’m out of town.”

  “No worries about that. What I am worried about are the pictures.”

  “Before I stage a media intervention, please tell me who the girl is. What is she to you?” Camilla was all business.

  “She’s someone I’ve been seeing. She works at the center where my grandfather was staying. She’s also a waitress at the club the reporter mentioned. She’s definitely not a hooker or a call girl—far from either. You’ve got to get this crap off the Internet, Camilla. I don’t know how reporters knew where she was. On Friday, we were together at a resort. I spotted a reporter taking pictures of us. I asked him to respect my privacy. He left. I thought the problem was resolved.”

  “You should know better than to trust the paps. Reporters are having a field day with the pictures in the pool. I’m assuming what’s being said about them is false. Unless I’m wrong. Why don’t you tell me your version of the story?”

  Seriously? “I was teaching her how to swim. I would never disrespect her or any other woman in public. Private either. That’s not how I roll.”

  Yet, I had disrespected Lizzie. At the hotel when I got overwhelmed by my feelings after she’d given me the journal, I tried to fuck her. Fortunately, she was strong and assertive and put me in my place.

  “Is this woman someone you care about?”

  Immensely.

  Mason glanced at me.

  “She’s a sweet girl.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t want her reputation tarnished because of me. Do whatever has to be done to make this right. She doesn’t need this type of media attention. She didn’t ask for any of it.”

  “It’s part of the package when in your world. Regardless, now that I’m wide awake, thank you very much, I’ll get right on it. Sorry again about your grandfather and that I had to bother you with business on the day of his funeral.”

  “I’m glad you did. The sooner you take care of this, the better for all parties involved. I apologize again for waking you.”

  I was actually glad I had because I wanted this mess handled tonight to save Lizzie from any further embarrassment. I had no idea if she was aware the crap was posted. Oi yoi yoi. I scrubbed my hand over my chin and sighed. What a mess.

  “We’ll speak soon. Rest up, grieve, do whatever is necessary to help you heal. We have a lot of tour dates scheduled, and your head has to be in the game.”

  She disconnected the call.

  26

  Lizzie

  “What’s going on, Nikki?”

  She had asked me to come to her room as soon as I returned from my run.

  “We have to talk.”

  “Of course.” Her alarm clock indicated I didn’t have time for dawdling “We have to make it quick, though, because I have to shower and get dressed for work.”

  “This is important. Why don’t you take a seat?”

  Uh-oh. Her eyes indicated what she wanted to discuss was serious. Maybe one of the girls had relapsed. It wouldn’t have been a first for someone in the house to have fallen off the wagon. It was par for the course in recovery.

  I sat on the carpet. She sat on her bed.

  “I’m all ears.”

  “We have rules in this house. Rules that have been set in place for the safety of the residents who live here. When the rules are broken, there are consequences. You knew when you first moved here that there were different levels of consequences depending on the rule broken—the worst consequence being eviction from the house.”

  “Why are you telling me this? Who’s getting evicted?”

  “I’m sorry to say, you are, Lizzie.”

  “What? Me?” I touched my chest. “Why?”

  She opened her phone to reveal pictures I had yet to see. Pictures of me! They showed me leaving the club in my uniform with that jerk off coming on to me by my car.

  How did they get posted? More importantly, who took them? And to make matters worse, the words written about me were horrid. One blurb stated I was a hooker, another blurb called me a stripper, and a third one said I was taking a drunk man home with me days after being seen with Ryan Josephs.

  “Oh my God! I can’t believe someone posted this.” Utter shock didn’t do my current state of mind justice. What had I done by getting involved with a rock star?

  Acid churned in my stomach.

  “Yeah, me either. I think it’s cool you’re dating a celebrity and all, but as the house mom, my priority is to create an environment where the girls who live in it aren’t triggered and are safe.”

  “Nikki, I have some sobriety under my belt. You know that. I’ve never brought any substances into this house. I can’t say the same for many of the other girls who have come and gone. Don’t you think kicking me out is a bit extreme?”

  “Part of recovery involves relapse. That’s why we have places like this. A safe place for those who want support while still learning the ropes and getting on their feet. Not only did you work in a bar that serves alcohol, but you downright lied to me. You told me your job was at the center. How long have you been working at that club?”

  “It doesn’t matter because I’m officially done. It never affected me until last night. I got a wake-up call, that’s for damn sure. It scared the hell out of me so I quit. No notice. Nothing. My sobriety comes first, contrary to what you might think.”

  “That wake-up call is the exact reason why we require the women who live here to take jobs in fields that aren’t going to entice or trigger them to return to old patterns of behavior. As an aside, I’m glad you were able to abstain and walk away. What you did was risky, both to yourself and to the rest of us in the house.”

  “How was it risky to you and the other girls? Nobody knew.”

  “Exactly. Because you lied. The women who live here are trying to turn their lives around. Lying is an old behavior, a destructive one. Your room could be used for someone fresh in recovery, but because of your situation I allowed you to live in it, hoping you’d be a positive role model for the other girls. Working in a bar and lying about it?”

  She shook her head.

  “Uh-uh. To add fuel to the fire, having blasphemous pictures posted online about your character isn’t the kind of drama I want in the house. It’s for both of these reasons that I think you should find another place to live. This wasn’t an easy decision for me to make. I had to put my personal feelings for you aside and be a responsible house mom, which means protecting the girls to the best of my ability. If I let you stay, I’ll be setting a precedent that this type of behavior is acceptable.”

  Unbelievable. Here I had left the bar feeling free, ready to seize control of my life again. Where was I supposed to go?

  “I’ll give you privacy to get your stuff together and then you can give me your key.”

  “You want me to leave now?” I understood her point but come on. Throw me out on the street, why don’t you!

  “Not right this minute. You can organize your stuff and pack up first.”

&
nbsp; Organize my stuff? Pack up? I didn’t need this.

  I stormed out of her room and into mine. I slammed and locked my door. Reacting instead of acting at its best. At the moment, I didn’t care.

  The suitcases stacked in the back of my closet had a purpose again. I shoved clothes into them madly, my muscles so tense I wanted to hit something. Living with my father would be worse for my sobriety than working at the club. I’d sleep in my car before I ever went back to that hellhole. That wasn’t even an option on the table.

  This sucked. I was now officially homeless without a paying job. The center didn’t count. Nobody knew that except me and the director, though, and possibly my grandma who was so lost mentally she wouldn’t understand the arrangement anyway.

  Great way to start a new life, Lizzie.

  I had acted impulsively when I quit the club.

  Somehow, I would make amends to Nikki for her good deed of allowing me to live in the house and my wrongdoing. First, I had to get myself situated.

  I finished packing, figuring I’d deal with my living situation later. I just wanted out of the house. I didn’t want to risk bumping into any of the girls and having to explain myself. They’d see the posts soon enough.

  Those darn posts!

  Nikki exited her room when she heard me dragging my suitcases down the stairs.

  “Do you need help?” Remorse was written all over her, sad eyes and all. Too bad I felt too much of my own to appreciate hers.

  “No thanks. It’s not that much. After I load it in my car I’ll give you the key.”

  I did exactly that then left behind what had been a safe place for me.

  Once at the center, I sat in the parking to collect myself. The rearview mirror displayed my red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

  It was what it was.

  I drank some water and took a few deep breaths.

  Time to face the music.

  Maria agreed to meet with me on the spot—a positive because it would prevent me from ruminating about our impending conversation.

  “Thanks for the impromptu meeting.”

  She smiled. “It works out perfectly. I was waiting for you to get here.”

  She was? Why? Was she about to ditch me too?

  Crap.

  “Why don’t you take a seat?” She pointed to the armchair opposite her desk.

  Hesitantly, I dropped into it. My feet bobbed on the carpet. My nerves were shot to shit, and my motivation and attitude sucked. Couldn’t wait to see what other crap she was about to pile on top of my shit of a day.

  Wanting her to go first to get the presumed “bad news” out of the way, I initiated the conversation. “Is everything okay?”

  “I wanted to tell you personally that Morris Allen passed away over the weekend. I didn’t want you to go inside and expect to see him.”

  What?

  My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach.

  Why didn’t Ryan tell me?

  “The family came yesterday and emptied his room. A new resident will be moving into it on Thursday.”

  The cycle of residents. One would die. A new one would move into the vacant room. And so the story went.

  “That’s horrible.” My eyes leaked tears. Maria handed me a tissue. Morris had been such a kind and gentle man. Ryan had to be suffering immensely.

  “I knew you’d be upset, which is why I wanted to tell you in person. I warned you at the beginning about not getting attached to the residents.” Easier said than done. “Now what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Huh?

  My mind was still grappling with the idea that Morris had died and Ryan didn’t bother to share the news with me. My heart ached for a variety of reasons now.

  “Oh, umm… It totally slipped my mind… The whole Morris thing.” I dried my eyes. Maria handed me another tissue. “So… I… Uh…” Breathe. “Quit my night job.”

  Her brows raised.

  Here goes nothing.

  “I was wondering if there were any other services I could provide other than what I’m currently doing.”

  “I’m sorry to say there aren’t. We are fully staffed and you aren’t licensed to be an aide.”

  The aides in the memory care unit may have been licensed or certified to care for the elderly but I certainly didn’t consider any of them qualified. Okay. Fine. I’d admit some were professional, but the others were lazy bums. Still, I bit my tongue.

  “I understand. Thanks for telling me about Morris. It’s a real shame. I guess my job search will commence immediately.”

  “I hate to put more pressure on you”—she tapped one of her long red nails on her desk—“but you’ll still have to make a payment at the end of the month.”

  “Not to worry. I’ll figure it out.” After I figured out where I was going to sleep later.

  Rising from my chair, I thanked her again and left for the secured unit to officially begin my day. Happy. Happy. Joy. Joy. I couldn’t wait.

  27

  Ryan

  The week passed by in a blur. I hung out with my parents, mostly out of guilt because I knew I’d be hitting the road soon and they wouldn’t see me for months. It also provided me with a sense of comfort.

  “FYI. I went to the club last night and that Isabella chick told me Lizzie no longer works there,” Nick informed me during a studio break.

  Lizzie no longer worked at the club? Since when? I couldn’t ask her myself because I had behaved like a first-class dick by not reaching out to her or replying to her texts, other than the brief one I sent her explaining that I needed space to figure things out. She responded with, “I’m here for you.” I ended the conversation with, “Speak soon.”

  The guys and I were leaving—as in, a week. Between losing my grandpa and my mother’s emotional breakdown, it was all I could do to keep my head above the water. I knew seeking comfort from Lizzie would only make me fall harder for her. In other words, I put up a wall for my own protection.

  “Wonder what happened.”

  Nick took a few gulps from his water bottle. “Isabella didn’t say. She sure as hell knew about the pictures, though. She kept asking me if I knew the truth behind them. Of course, I remained mum.”

  “Thankfully, Camilla took care of that issue. I hope the fake stories have nothing to do with Lizzie not working at the club anymore.”

  “Why don’t you call her and find out?” Mason’s irritation with me was loud and clear. “We’re leaving next weekend, and you’ve completely blown her off. I told you I’d ease up, but I’m done coddling you. It’s time to get your head out of your ass and square things out with that girl before we leave. If anything, to apologize and part ways with a clean conscience.”

  “My fucking grandfather just died, Mason. You wouldn’t be in the best of moods either.”

  “I get that. But I think there’s more to your crap mood than that alone. At least have the decency to reach out and let her know you’re thinking about her. She knew your grandfather. I’m sure she’s upset about the loss as well.”

  “I agree with Mason on that one. It was a dick move, bro, brushing her off this week.”

  “Thanks for your input, Jonas. But I didn’t ask for it.”

  He held his hand up and shot me a disappointed look.

  “I get it and I hear you.”

  “Have to say, right now, you’ve up-dicked me. I never thought the day would come. Your behavior with Lizzie has earned you the crown as the new band asshole.” Nick shook his head, grimacing with disgust.

  “Shut up, Nick. I didn’t ask for your two cents either. Let’s take a break. I could use some air.”

  “And a swift kick in the ass,” Jonas mumbled.

  I shot him a bird when what I really wanted to do was shut him up with my fist.

  “Let’s meet back in an hour and a half,” I called over my shoulder as I left the practice room.

  Mason caught up with me outside. I was about to get into my car.

  “You
okay” he asked.

  “I don’t know what I am right now.”

  “I think you’d feel better if you spoke with Lizzie.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  “Will? You’re going to go see her right now, aren’t you?”

  “As much as I hate to admit it, you guys are right. She deserves an apology. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if she got fired from her job because of me.”

  “Good luck.” He patted the hood of my car then stepped away from it.

  “I probably need it.”

  With the A/C set on high and the vents blowing in my direction, I drove to Lizzie’s house. It was too late for her to be at the center and she no longer worked at the club, which the selfish part of me was all too happy about.

  Her car wasn’t in the driveway when I arrived, but others were. Since I was there, I figured I’d knock, at least leave a message with one of the roommates that I had stopped by.

  Popcorn girl answered the door.

  What’s her name again?

  So much for Camilla’s trick about repeating a person’s name to help memorize it.

  “Ryan? What are you doing here? Not that I mind. You’re always welcome to visit.”

  “I was looking for Lizzie. I don’t see her car and am hopeful maybe you could pass a message along to her.”

  Her face scrunched up. “Umm, when did you last speak to her?”

  Great. Now this girl was adding to my internal guilt. I swiped my hand through my hair. “Several days ago.” Definitely more and via text.

  “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Lizzie moved out.”

  I stepped back.

  “Moved out? Why? Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know the answer to any of your questions. Our house mom is at work. She would know. Lizzie and all of her belongings were gone when I got home. I sure hope she’s okay.”

  Christ!

  “Did you try calling her?” the girl asked.