by Meg Tilly
Oh crap. Here we go again. Rhys huffed out an internal sigh. “No,” he replied. “Never met you.”
“Come on, man. I’m sure I know you. Where’d you go to school?”
“Silsbee.”
“Shit, man. Gigging, I’ve crisscrossed this country a million times and never come across Silsbee. Where the hell is that?”
“Texas. Outside of Beaumont.” Rhys pulled the SUV to a stop in front of the house.
“So we didn’t go to school together.” Levi snapped his fingers as if that would activate the memory in his brain. “Don’t worry. We know each other.” He thumped his fist against his chest. “Just gotta figure out how.”
* * *
• • •
RHYS UNLOCKED THE front door and disengaged the interior alarm. Eve stepped past him and gave Samson the friend signal. Samson’s body relaxed. His tail swished. He poked his wet nose into her hand in greeting. She gave him the requisite scratch around his ears. Then the wolfhound headed out the door. “The dog won’t bother you,” she told Levi, who had a cautious look on his face, arms crossed around the ukulele and his hands tucked safely in his armpits.
“Gotta protect these babies,” he said, wiggling the fingers of his free hand once Samson was safely past. “That dog is a monster. Who knew they grew dogs that big?”
“Samson’s a sweetheart once you get to know him.”
Samson peed, started to stretch languorously, when he caught the scent of something and took off at a dead gallop, disappearing into the woods.
“Holy shit!” Levi exclaimed. “That hairy beast can move. Glad that’s not me he’s chasing. You think it’s okay to let him run free like that?”
Eve shrugged. “Luke says it’s fine. Samson knows his way around. He’ll come home when he’s run off some steam. Come on in.” She was acting calm, as if Levi descending on her doorstep was an everyday occurrence, but her mind was spinning. Why is he here? How did he find me? “Would you like a drink—beer, cider, red wine?”
“I’ll have mineral water with lemon if you have some,” he replied.
Eve glanced at him, surprised.
“Yeah,” he said, a sheepish grin on his face. “Stopped boozing, doing drugs. I’m clean. Totally clean.”
A wave of happiness swept over her. “Levi, that’s wonderful. Wow.” She crossed the living room and entered the kitchen, Levi following in her wake. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Well,” he said with a shrug, laying his ukulele on the kitchen table. “Taking it day by day. We’ll see. It was hard as hell when I first gave it up. Bit easier now, but the wanting remains. Always present. The whisper in the ear.”
“Still.” She opened the fridge and removed a bottle of mineral water and a lemon, her mind flashing to all the times she’d found him wasted, the fights they’d had. “It’s a huge deal.” She took a couple of glasses from the cupboard, placed them on the counter, and started to pour.
Levi glanced around the kitchen and let out a low whistle. “This is some digs you’ve set yourself up in.”
Eve suddenly felt protective. Levi was clean, but what if he slipped up and needed cash for a fix, and who knew what the rest of the band was doing? “This place belongs to Maggie and her husband, Luke. Great guy. Ex-Special Forces. Can handle anything you throw at him and is a total whiz with the security. The property is more secure than Fort Knox.” She felt the moment Rhys entered the kitchen. Didn’t need to look up. “Rhys, you want some mineral water?”
“No,” he replied curtly.
What had crawled up his ass and died?
“Fine.” She topped up Levi’s glass, sliced a wedge of lemon, and stuck it on the rim. “Here you go,” she said, handing the water to Levi.
Rhys stalked past, his body brushing against hers. It felt purposeful, as if he were staking a claim. Which was pretty damn ballsy of him, seeing as how he was planning to sally back to his fancy Hollywood life without a backward glance.
“How long you been clean?” Eve asked Levi politely. She was determined to keep a pleasant, breezy look firmly attached to her face no matter which primitive caveman behavior Rhys had decided to emulate.
“One year, four and a half months, not that I’m counting. I think me cleaning up my act is what put the final nail in the coffin in my last relationship. The reverse of what broke the two of us up.” Levi laughed. “Guess I swung from one extreme to the other. Tiffany was not pleased. She was the quintessential party girl. If she could smoke it, ingest it, or inject it, she was a happy camper. Did you hear my song ‘Candy Flippin’’?”
“Uh . . . no. I . . . uh . . .” Did he really think that after they broke up, she had nothing better to do than to sit around waiting with bated breath for his next album?
“No worries. I can e-mail you a download if you like. I wrote that song about her. She’d been on a five-day bender. Almost OD’d.” He laughed. “Grist for the mill, man. Grist for the mill. She was pissed off when she heard it. Didn’t mind spending the money the song brought in though,” he said, tossing Rhys a jaunty you-know-how-women-are wink.
Rhys just looked at him stone-faced.
“Yeah, I’ve been doing real well. ‘Candy Flippin’’ charted in the top one hundred for a week and a half.”
Typical Levi, Eve thought wryly. All bravado and narcissism. “So, what made you come to Solace Island? It’s not really your cup of tea.”
Rhys yanked the fridge open, got a beer, snapped the tab, and took a long swig.
“Ahem . . .” She coughed, giving him a swift glare, but Rhys pretended not to notice, took another slug of the beer.
“I came to this rinky-dink island to see you,” Levi said, extending his arm like he was an actor in a Shakespearean play. Then he picked up his ukulele and started strumming it, improvising a song. “‘Drove a hundred miles,’” Levi sang. “‘Maybe a hundred more. Weathered two ferry rides through the wind and the snow . . .’”
“There’s no snow,” Rhys interjected. Clearly he didn’t know Levi the way Eve did. A sarcastic comment or two would have no effect once Levi was in performance mode.
“‘Ahhhh . . . drove to the caaaafé you and Maggie own.’” His hips were swiveling now, and he was going to town big-time on that little ukulele. “‘Buuuut was lo-ahhhhcked up tight. Nobody waaaahz home. Ah called your liddle sistah. Woke her up from a nap.’” He winked. “‘I explained my dilemma, and that was that!’” Levi finished his song with a grand flurry of strums. All the while stomping his boot against the floor, which created a makeshift drum.
“That answer your question?” Levi asked, giving her that wicked smile of his, the one that had never failed to make her weak at the knees.
Interesting, Eve observed. My knees feel perfectly sturdy.
“People pay you for that?” Rhys scoffed.
Uh-oh. Must’ve figured out Levi’s the musician I used to date.
“Cute song, Levi,” Eve said, keeping a cautious eye on Rhys. “Thank you.” She turned her head so Levi couldn’t see her face. “Be nice,” she whispered to Rhys through gritted teeth.
“Why?” he said, not bothering to temper his volume.
“He’s had a hard time.”
“I’m standing right here, folks,” Levi interjected. “I’m not deaf.”
Rhys ignored him, kept his eyes locked on hers. “And you haven’t?” he asked.
Eve shifted uneasily. That was the thing about Rhys. When he looked at her, he really looked, as if he had X-ray vision and could see well beneath the skin.
“Uh-huh.” Rhys smiled. “Just as I suspected.” He crushed his empty beer can in his hand, then tossed it in the recycling bin under the sink. “Anyone want nachos? I’m thinking of making some.”
“Don’t you have some work to do?” she asked Rhys pointedly.
“It can wait,” he said, suddenly
cheerful as he took a metal baking sheet from the cupboard and set it on the marble counter.
“You like the ukulele, babe?” Levi said.
Babe. That had been his pet name for her.
“Picked it up at a garage sale as we drove through Medford. Fifteen dollars, including the case. I’d forgotten I had it. This old thing was banging around on the tour bus for a couple of weeks.”
Or did he call all of his women that? An easy way to make sure he didn’t accidentally call out the wrong name in the throes of passion.
“Then, last Friday TJ was rummaging in the overhead storage . . .” Levi was still rambling on. “And there it was. I was bored, picked it up, never held a ukulele in my life, but started playing around and—”
“Hey, dude,” Rhys interrupted. “Look, I know the ukulele is supposed to be having a resurgence and all, but”—Rhys strode to the pantry, removed a large bag of tortilla chips, ripped it open with his teeth, and dumped the chips on the baking sheet—“personally?” He smiled the way a shark does before it devours its prey. “I’m not a fan.” He removed a grater from the lower cupboard, straightened, opened the fridge, and got out some cheddar cheese, salsa, and a jar of jalapeños. “But hey, I guess if you’re one of those unfortunate men who got stuck with a small instrument,” he said with a sympathetic whatcha-gonna-do shrug, “it’s probably best for everyone involved if you learn how to use it.”
Thirty-one
“HEY.” ANDY LEANED toward the camera and waved his hand. “Something wrong, man? Did I freeze?”
“No,” Rhys said, pulling his attention away from the feminine laughter he could hear drifting from the kitchen and back to the screen. “Sorry. I spaced out for a moment. You were saying?”
“Basically, the premise is good, but the script is shit. We throw it out and start over. In the right hands . . .” Andy cleared his throat modestly.
“Yours—”
“That is correct.” He grinned. “With me writing, you acting . . .”
Rhys heard footsteps, then a light knock at the door.
“And if you’re able to get the right director attached, we could create something quite spectacular.”
Rhys held up his hand. “Someone’s at the door. Hold on a sec.” He removed his earbuds, pushed back from the computer, crossed the room, and opened the door.
“Hi. We’re going to—” Eve glanced into the room, saw Andy on the computer screen, and flushed. “Sorry,” she whispered as she pulled on her faded jean jacket. The whimsical brooches attached caught a slanting ray of sunshine. Every breath she took, every slight movement caused tiny rainbow flecks to dance around the room. “I didn’t know you were talking to someone.” A lentil-sized rainbow was quivering on his forearm, as if entangled in his sun-lightened hair. “We’re going to grab a bite to eat. Want to come?”
She shifted her weight so that the brooches no longer caught the light. The rainbows were gone, and he was aware of a faint sense of loss. “Nah,” he said. “I had the nachos.” The incident at the pharmacy proved that even in places like Solace Island, he couldn’t roam free. It would create havoc. Eve would look at him differently. “If I get hungry later, I’ll forage in the fridge.”
“Okay. Samson’s back. I’ve fed him and given him fresh water. I should be home by nine at the latest, but if for some reason I’m not, could you let him out to pee?”
“Sure,” he said.
She looked up at him with her inquisitive eyes, her head tilted to the side. “Are you all right? Your voice sounds funny.”
What could he say? I don’t want you to go out with your old boyfriend? He wasn’t the boss of her. “I’m fine. Totally fine. See you later. Have fun.”
“All right, then. Hope you get everything sorted out with your work.” She waved her fingers at him and disappeared down the hall.
He couldn’t see Levi, but he could feel his presence in the house. “Nah. Don’t feel much like pub food,” he heard Levi say in his smoke-and-whiskey rasp. “Get too much of that on the road. The guy I hitched a ride with mentioned a great French bistro on the island.”
A French bistro? They were going to a French bistro? That was just great. Romantic music, candlelight—
Rhys heard Eve murmur something in response, her voice too low for him to make out the words. He could hear the front door open and then swing shut. And with the thunk of the door closing, more doubts arrived. Maybe he’d read Eve wrong and she still was into this guy. He was making a big mistake leaving her alone with him—
Frustrated, Rhys slammed his palm against the doorframe. “Fans be damned,” he muttered. “This is an emergency.” He’d better move and move fast!
Rhys ran to the computer. Didn’t bother sitting. He crouched down, jammed the earbuds in his ear. “Look, Andy, sorry. Something’s come up. Gotta run. Will discuss these story ideas later.” He hung up, ripped out the earbuds, grabbed his wallet, and sprinted out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door.
“Hey!” he yelled, even though it was clear his efforts were futile. The driveway gates were almost closed. He ran down the steps, waving his arms. “Wait for me.” But it was too late. He saw a flash of blue as Eve’s car turned out of the long driveway and disappeared down the road. The gates slammed shut, and all that was left was the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.
Thirty-two
EVE FLIPPED THE white napkin in the breadbasket open and took another slice of bread. The baguette didn’t have the proper crisp and chew that a good French baguette should, she thought as she slathered it with salted butter. Either they didn’t buy their bread from Luke, or they’d run out while he was on vacation and were making do with store-bought.
“How’s your soup?” Levi asked, his knife slicing through his steak au poivre. Eve loved a good steak drenched in peppercorn sauce, and that side of crispy potatoes and onions cooked in duck fat looked delectable. However, given her present financial circumstances, splurging on steak au poivre was out of her price range. Alternatively, there was no way she was going to let Levi pay for her meal. Didn’t want to send the wrong message. “Want a taste?” he asked, holding a forkful of food toward her. She could smell the rich cream, cognac, and shallots.
Her mouth was watering, but eating from his fork was too intimate. It would feel almost as if she were cheating on Rhys. “No thanks,” she said. She picked up her spoon, forcing her eyes away from the tempting mouthful of food. “I’m very happy with what I ordered.” The cheapest item on the menu at $5.99. “French onion soup, mmm, so good.” She dipped her spoon back into her bowl. The logistics of this particular soup required some maneuvering. The trick was to get the melted cheese and savory broth onto her spoon without leaving some dangling cheese strand to thwack her in the chin. Also, she needed to time it. She didn’t want to empty her bowl too fast and be left drooling over his food.
“Are you still painting?” he asked, spearing another chunk of juicy steak onto his fork and popping it into his mouth.
“Of course,” she said, feeling defensive. “Painting is my passion.”
Levi had never taken her painting seriously. He’d wanted her to drop out of Yale and go on the road with him, which had been a huge bone of contention between them.
“Come on, babe. We’d have a blast,” he’d said, pacing around their tiny apartment. “You know you want to.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Why not?” he’d demanded, turning to glower at her.
“I can’t just drop out of college, Levi. My parents and I worked so hard to pay for this.”
“My point exactly! You’d be doing your parents a favor. Attending Yale to be an artist is a waste of time and money. The tuition fees are exorbitant, and in your line of work”—he’d laughed mockingly— “even if you sold a few paintings, you’d never earn back the money you’d spent on tuition, and forget about making e
nough money to sustain yourself.”
“And you make so much money as a musician? Huh? You guys are playing for tips, barely covering your gas money.”
“For now,” he’d said with absolute conviction. “It’s early days, babe! You gotta look at this in a practical manner. There’s way more musicians running around with bling on their fingers and driving Rolls-Royces than artists. I could easily name a hundred musicians who are living the big life. Can you name even twenty current artists doing the same thing? Okay. Name ten. Five? You can’t, can you? See! I’m our big shot at fame, babe. Come on the road with me, and we’ll build our dream together.”
“Levi, I just need to clarify. Are you asking me to marry you, to share your life for better or worse? Is that what this is? Your idea of a proposal?”
Levi recoiled. “Hell no, baby. You know I don’t go for that white-bread establishment bullshit! I’m asking you to come on the road with me. Take it or leave it.”
She left it. Left him.
“Are you having showings?” Eve heard Levi ask, bringing her back to the restaurant and the present. “Sold any?” He was sorting out his next bite, his attention on his plate, which was lucky because he didn’t see her flinch.
Eve tilted her chin up, as if bracing for a blow. “It takes time to build a customer base,” she said. She removed another slice of mediocre bread. “I paint for me.”
“Whoa. Okay.” Levi held up his hands. “No need to take my head off, babe. Just asking a simple question.”
Eve blew out a breath. She’d buttered the hell out of her slice of bread. “I haven’t sold any yet,” she said. “But I have paid off my student loans, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
He reached over and captured her hand. Weird, she thought, feeling slightly removed from her body. It used to be the feeling of his calloused fingers on my skin would cause tingles to course through me. “I wasn’t getting at anything,” he said, looking at her now with an uncharacteristically earnest expression on his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”