Still Her (Turn it Up Book 2)

by Natalie Parker

  “What are you doing after that Rock into the Holiday thing tomorrow?” I ask as he holds up the bottle of Johnny with a raised eyebrow and I shake my head, politely declining.

  “Nothing planned,” he answers, as he pours himself another shot. “Not touring right now, as you know. Erin and I are taking time to get to know the little one and the rest of the guys are catching their breath too. We’re just doing occasional appearances so we maintain our presence. Why?”

  “I think I thought of a way you could help. I’m not entirely sure… but maybe,” I say, nodding at the floor before pushing off the table to address him head-on. “Can you come to New York? You and the band?”

  He nods gently, considering this. “I think so. At least I can. I’ll have to check with the other guys, and Erin would have to get back to L.A.. One of us has to get back to the baby. This is our first time apart from her.” He lifts a shoulder and shakes his head back and forth before dropping it. “But if it will help you…”

  “It’s hard to tell yet, but it might.” I nod as if trying to convince myself while searching his eyes.

  “You got it,” he answers without a waiver. It’s then that Erin appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Hey doll,” George addresses her affectionately, and she blushes slightly at him.

  “Where’s Maze?” I inquire.

  “Asleep,” she informs me with a sigh. She’s giving us a small smile, but I detect a hint of somberness underneath, like maybe she’s disappointed. I think she sees me noticing and quickly tries to correct it, taking on a lighthearted disposition. “Yeah, she came up with about twenty-six different uses for the word ‘douche’ and then ppppt...” she makes the sound between her lips as she sweeps her hand flat through the air. “I lost her,” she concludes with a flippant shrug.

  I smile faintly and chuckle inwardly to myself, shaking my head as I look down, not sure what to make of this. On one hand, I’m glad Mayzie was able to let go and relax a little, enough so that she’s finally getting some sleep. On the other hand, I’m pissed that we’re at a place that she needed it so badly.

  “Her getting to bed on her own is not going to happen, by the way.” Erin adds. This time I chuckle aloud.

  “S’okay,” I muse, letting the fondness of a memory overtake me and bring a warm smile to my lips. “Won’t be the first time.”

  The warmth in my heart grows greater as I walk into the other room and find my baby curled up on the end of one of the couches with her hand tucked beneath her chin. Her other hand is clutching an empty wine glass to her chest and her lips are closed, making her cute little snore barely audible.

  Later, when we’re in our own room and I’ve gotten her dress off her and gotten her in bed, she rolls toward me. Still not conscious, she reaches over and presses her warm hand to my chest and I’m overwhelmed by the feeling it gives me; the feeling of being grounded, like she’s seeking me even in her sleep, needing the comfort and safety she gets from being near me. I take that thought and hold on tightly to it. I reach over and put my arm over her body, tucking it into mine. I may not get to stand in front of her when she faces off with that pathetic excuse for a man, but this… this I can do.

  MAYZIE

  I wake up the next morning feeling less than stellar and am greeted by Little Demon Fucker Eli banging pots and pans inside my head. Stupid alcohol. It totally acts like your friend and then the next morning, it stabs you in the back. Needless to say, I pass on a mimosa when Jack and I join George and Erin in their suite for brunch before he and I have to head out with the band.

  Before we got up, Jack let me know that he’d confided in George and told him the gist, but hadn’t given him all the details, which is fine. I get why he did. It means Erin knows by now too, most likely, which is okay too. Last night I was just so exhausted and also worried that she’d take some kind of action out of genuine concern, I just couldn’t muster up the gumption to tell her myself.

  We keep the conversation light and away from Mr. McDouche, focusing instead on exchanging stories of baby and tour shenanigans. We talk about future plans and ventures here and there, but a cold, shady feeling washes over me each time we bring up a prospect. The reality of the situation quietly rears its head each time, reminding us that the fate of our future may or may not be certain, depending on what happens in New York. When Jack brings up a future album, we go quiet for a moment. The same thing happens when George and Erin suggest going to the Grammy’s together. That douche-weasel - yeah, I thought of a couple more in the shower this morning - is just sucking the joy out of everything.

  When it comes time to leave their suite and head back to our own to pack up our things, I feel like I’m walking the plank, even though I’m not even on the ship yet.

  When we make our way hand-in-hand through the lobby, Ron has to remind us to smile and act naturally when we venture through the doors and into the chilly air, where there are ten or so bundled up photographers flanking our path to the waiting SUV.

  As the bus nears New York, a thousand thoughts zoom around my head. Is Eli really going to move in on me, or was he just saying it to mess with me? Is he going to contact me? When will he make his move? All the questions send my nerves into hyper drive, exhausting me when I’m already exhausted. I stare out the window at the skyscrapers that stretch up to reach the grey winter sky.

  By the time we are pulling our luggage through the elegant lobby of the hotel we’re staying in, I’m fried. All my focus and energy is being drained by these thoughts, yet the questions continue to manifest. Is he here in the city now? Is here at our hotel? Will he pounce the first time I’m alone?

  I’m losing my shit…

  21

  Mayzie

  “You probably don’t want to come do you? It’s just a radio show; nothing special to see. You could stay here, get some rest?” Jack asks about the guys’ first press engagement of the New York stop.

  We arrived at the posh Capulet hotel less than two hours ago, just enough time to get settled, order something to eat, and for the guys to convene in Ron’s room to go over the itinerary. This afternoon is a guest spot on a radio show. Tomorrow is an interview and short performance on America Live, followed by the same scenario on the Holly Marie Show. After that, they come back to the hotel for a respite before heading to do a taping of The Up Late Show with Dan Coleman. The next two days will be the sound checks and concerts at Madison Square.

  “Actually, I have to do some work on next weeks’ post, but after that’s done, maybe, yeah.” I answer with a shrug from my cross-legged position on the bed. My sleep patterns have been choppy at best lately.

  A sense of hesitancy comes over Jack’s face before it clears and is replaced with a look of certainty. “I want Shane with you.” His eyes lock on mine, conveying his adamancy. I don’t argue.

  “Okay,” I nod, and my heart gives a soft squeeze at the look of relief on Jack’s face. I get up on my knees to be eye level with him and take his face in my hands to give him a sweet kiss that he returns with a squeeze of my hips. He turns and leaves the room as I get settled and open my laptop in front of me on the bed. Through the open bedroom door, I see Shane come inside the suite and have a brief and subtle exchange with Jack. Once Jack is out the door, Shane sits down in the sitting area and puts ESPN on a low volume. The background sports burble actually relaxes me, and I get tucked into my writing.

  An hour and a half later, there is a knock at the door that catches me off guard and my fingers freeze on the keyboard. I look up through the door and see Shane click a button on the TV remote before getting to his feet. Unable to stay where I am for some reason, I get up and walk out into the main living area, staying a good distance behind Shane as he goes to the door and looks through the peephole.

  “Name and business, please.” His voice takes on a deeper tone than the way he normally speaks around me. Damn. Normally when he’s escorting me around venues, you’d think we’re just casual friends. I’ve never seen him
in bodyguard mode before.

  “Jerry Miller, Capulet Hotel staff. I have a delivery for Mrs. Krasinski.”

  “Hold your badge up to the peephole please.” Even though he said, ‘please’, it was clearly an order. Jeez.

  Shane leans in closer to the peephole before stepping back and opening the door. A man dressed in a dark black suit with gold embellishments stitched on the pockets and lapels, walks in carrying a plain white envelope. Shane holds it up and inspects it against the light that hangs over the nearby table. When he seems satisfied it’s not a bomb, he nods to the gentleman, dismissing him.

  “Excuse me,” I address the employee as he turns to leave, looking slightly bewildered by Shane’s TSA worthy protocol. “Who delivered this?” I nod at the envelope that Shane is holding out to me. I take it and hold it between my hands, but make no move to open it.

  “It was dropped off at the front desk by a courier ma’am.”

  “Oh, so you don’t know who it’s from?”

  “No, I’m sorry. When it’s couriered, there’s no telling.” He presses his lips together in an apologetic expression as he waits to be dismissed.

  “Okay. Thank you,” I say, holding up the envelope by way of ‘good-bye’. He smiles tightly and turns, letting himself out.

  I have a bad feeling about the contents in the stark white envelope I’m holding. Shane hasn’t moved, his eyes also on it with an interest that I decide I want to deflect. I let out an amused giggle.

  “What?” Shane asks, drawing his eyebrows together.

  “Nothing.” I shrug with a grin. “Just surprised you didn’t snap on a rubber glove and do a cavity search.”

  Shane smiles and rolls his eyes as he returns to the sitting area, reclaiming his seat. I let him go back to his football highlights as I take the envelope back to the bedroom with me. Once I’ve crossed the threshold, I take a deep breath and tear through the paper seam. I pull out two cards. One is white plastic with a magnetic strip on the back of it. The other is cream colored thick paper, like cardstock, with plain black typed lettering on it.

  Tomorrow

  6 PM

  Capulet Penthouse

  Looking forward to it, Kitten

  Kitten. This is from Eli. I had a feeling, but this just makes it plain, no mistaking it. The words start to float around on the paper of the card and I have to pull my eyes away from it before I pass out. I look around the room for something else to focus on, settling on the window, where I see the high floors of skyscrapers against a backdrop of bleak, grey clouds. It’s late afternoon and the daylight is diminishing.

  Once I feel I have my bearings again, I look back down at the card to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination. It’s really there on the paper, this is happening. Oh my God. I keep looking at the card, zeroing in on random words. Tomorrow. This is happening tomorrow. Capulet. We’re here, at the Capulet. Right now. Oh, shit. Is he here right now? I look at the plastic card that looks very much like the one Jack and I have to this room, only now I realize that this has a ‘P’ marked on it on one side in a regal, gold font that is so pale, it’s almost iridescent. Penthouse. As in super fancy hotel room.

  6 PM. That’s when the Up Late Show will be taping. Son of a bitch. The guys are going to have to leave for that at four-thirty to get to the studio to be prepped and briefed before the taping actually starts. Then it will be another two hours or so after that before they get back here. The conniving douche-wad chose a nice solid time block that the guys will be gone. I throw the envelope and cards onto the bedspread and cram my hands into my hair as I start pacing, only vaguely aware of the TV still babbling in the other room. I talk myself out of panicking as I focus hard on keeping my breathing steady and even. I need to focus on what to do. I need to call Morris. No. I need to tell Jack then he and I will call Morris together. I rush over to the bed and snatch up my phone. I dial Jack and then remember I might be disrupting a radio interview. Shit! I hang up before it can ring. I cram my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and realize that I’m still pacing like a caged tiger. I have to get out of here.

  I turn out of the bedroom and walk past Shane who does a double-take before turning the TV off and getting to his feet. At the last second I see my key card to the room on the entry way table, grab it, and slip it into my other back pocket. I shove my feet into my ankle boots as Shane’s footsteps approach.

  “Mayzie? What’s going on?” he asks as I straighten up.

  “Nothing, I just need to get out of this room for a while.”

  “Where are we going?” Part of me would rather that question not include the word ‘we’, but the other part makes me feel secure with him tailing me.

  “I have no idea,” I answer as I yank the door open and stalk into the hallway that is thankfully empty. Shane walks quietly behind me, doing his best to give me the illusion that I’m alone. When I reach the elevator bank halfway down the hall, I consult the directory mounted to the wall across from it. I don’t know what the hell this hotel could offer me in terms of escape while still having privacy, but I peruse it anyway. There are spas, gyms, bars, and on the fourteenth floor… a ballroom. It’s probably being used, but going to check it out will kill five minutes.

  Shane quietly steps onto the car with me, and we ride down from the twentieth floor to the fourteenth in silence. When we get off, I turn left in accordance with the sign that indicates where this ballroom is. When I reach it, no one is in sight and I don’t hear anything coming from beyond the doors. There are several French style partition doors that are closed to the hallway, and I try each one of them, until the fourth opens for me.

  Shane lingers at a safe distance down the hall, but he gives me a cautious smile as I glance at him over my shoulder as I slip inside.

  After the door closes quietly behind me, I gaze around at the dark, grand room. There are tables covered in starched white linens that take up the majority of the space in the room, save for the square dance floor in the middle. The only light comes from the windows that line the back wall and are at least three stories high. They have billowy white curtains parted to reveal what little is left of the day’s light, and the buildings lit up against the dark grey skyline. From where I stand, the view is already breathtaking and beckons me forward for a closer look.

  I cross the dark hardwood floor, enjoying the click of my boot’s heels against it. My feet meet thin carpet again as I approach one of the expansive windows. I gaze out at all of the buildings that tower over me from the floor I’m on, spotting a Christmas light display in a window every so often. I look down to the street to see a mesh of fancy cars and yellow cabs, while other commuters are hoofing it through a mob on the sidewalk. I turn my stare out towards the park that is kitty-corner to the Capulet, and is cordoned off with a black wrought-iron gate. It has pathways surrounded by trees and shrubbery, some of which are adorned with white lights, giving it a peaceful and enchanted feel. I press my hand to the cold glass, absorbing the chill into my palm before placing it to the back of my neck in an effort to soothe the nervous fever trying to take over my body.

  The words of Eli’s creep-o-gram still invade my mind, causing an eerie feeling of a heavy brick being dropped into my stomach, to the extent that I almost feel ill. I focus on the lights of the park, and keeping my breathing calm and under control.

  I’ve known for several weeks that this was coming, I tell myself. It’s just finally happening and it’s freaking scary as hell. That’s all. It’s almost over, I try to console myself.

  I keep on with my little mantras, affirming to myself that all I have to do is be in this Costco-sized douche-box’s presence for a little while, just long enough to get him to slip and reveal his intentions. It will be unpleasant, but it won’t be forever. Just one time. Just for a while. If I can’t do that, then I have no strength, no bravery inside me, and I know that’s not true. I have it. I don’t want to use it, but I will. I have to.

  I turn and look over at the dance floor, something th
at has always brought me solace. My jeans and sweater are not exactly conducive to the movement dancing requires, but I stride over to it anyway. I kick off my boots and let myself slip lightly in my socks over the wood, doing a few turns and a couple of spins before letting go of the idea of dancing it out. Instead, I sit down with my knees against my chest, content in this cavernous, quiet room, with my arms wrapped around my legs.

  Just think, after tomorrow night, it’s over. No more living with this dread.

  That last notion gets me thinking about how Eli hasn’t just messed around with us in isolated incidents. He’s done so much more. It makes a spark of anger ignite in my gut. It’s small, but it’s there. I go back to the day I danced on the practice court earlier in the tour, and grab onto the emotions I channeled then. I start mentally pulling them in, letting them join the boundless strength that my love for Jack gives me. I let it all come together, willing it to infuse me with the courage I desperately need.

  I press one hand to the parquet of the dance floor as if it’s a source of infinite strength that I can draw from, close my eyes, and just be.

  JACK

  Matt and I trudge down the hallway toward mine and Mayzie’s hotel room. While Josh and Chris decided to go grab dinner somewhere, he and I felt more like hanging out in the room and ordering in. I swipe my key card and open the door to a deserted suite.

  “Maze?” I call out, and am greeted by silence. Neither she nor Shane appears to be here, and while I can’t imagine why, I try not to get my gander up about it. I’ll call her in a few minutes and see about her either coming back from wherever she is or meeting up with her. Since Shane’s not here, I assume he’s with her and so I’m not too worried. Matt picks up the folder that holds all the take-out options and the room service menu as I shuck my jacket and drape it over one of the chairs at the dining table before heading to the bedroom to use the adjoining bathroom. It’s not until I come back out that I notice something lying on the bed. I see a torn envelope and two small cards tossed haphazardly on the bedspread. I pick up the plastic card and examine it. It looks like the key card to a hotel room, but other than that, it doesn’t mean anything to me. I toss it back down and pick up the small paper card. This one has something printed on it…