Songbird

by Victoria Escobar

  I caught him staring often but it wasn’t intrusive. I knew creative souls habitually stared into the distance so I didn’t take it personally. I ignored my reaction to his nearness because it was suicidal otherwise.

  The bus was en route to Las Angeles. The schedule overflowed with the necessary meet and speaks from the moment we arrived. I reviewed time constraints and Googled travel distances to figure out how much time I could allow for Nicholas to dawdle.

  “What are you wearing to Angelina’s Garden Lunch Party thing?”

  “Huh? What?” I glanced up from my notes and had to swallow to wet my suddenly dry throat.

  Nicholas stood wearing a pair of pants he hadn’t bothered to button and was running a towel through wet hair. Water ran down his chest from his hair following the hard planes of abs to be soaked up by his pants.

  Why the hell didn’t he wait until tonight to shower at the hotel? His slow, wicked grin alerted me to the fact I had been staring too long.

  I pulled off my glasses, rubbed my eyes and refocused, “I’m sorry, Walker; I was focused on work.” I gestured to my papers. “What did you ask me?”

  His brows drew together. If he had wanted a reaction to his male glory he’d have a long wait in hell. I was getting kind of used to—maybe even good at—dismissing the nearly instant lust his presence caused. I knew better than to show any interest regardless of what I actually felt. Professionalism demanded it.

  “What are you wearing to the garden party thing? I’m trying to decide if I should wear a tie or not. Though, regardless it’ll probably be a not.”

  Now, I had to frown, “I’m not going. You’ll be going with one of the guys. Henry will drop you off and pick you up. It’ll give me time to check on the stage and maybe grant you a few extra hours away from the auditorium.” I went back to my work.

  “Then I’m not going.”

  I glanced up sharply. “What?”

  He crossed his arms, “If you’re not going, then I’m not going.”

  “What are we ten now? What brought this on? You were looking forward to the Garden Party in San Jose.”

  “That was before.” He sat in a huff across from me and locked his eyes on mine. “When I thought you were going and I’d have a chance to ogle your legs.”

  “I wear skirts every day.” I pointed out the flaw in his logic. “You can ogle my legs whenever you want. I can find a female companion if that’s what this is about or see if one of the girls from the opening band can go.” And I should have thought about that. Nicholas wouldn’t want to go to a glorified tea party with another guy.

  “I can’t take one of them to something like this. They’ll get ideas.” The way he said the word made it sound like the very act was a crime. And he had a point there as well.

  “Then you can go alone.” This much force probably wasn’t wise with him, but I wasn’t going. The party was a big social event that I wasn’t qualified to be a companion for. Besides that, there would be paparazzi, and while I couldn’t avoid them completely attached to Nicholas as I was, I didn’t invite the extra attention.

  “To a girl party? Are you insane? I’d never come out whole.”

  Son of a bitch. He had a point there too. He was a philander and most knew it. He’d likely come back to the hotel missing some… Well, not dignity, but something. I was glad I dropped the score system somewhere back in Portland or I’d be outmatched today.

  “Then I’ll find you a professional escort. They do exist.”

  “I don’t want a damn escort.”

  “Walker, really. You’re being impossible. It’s only a garden party.”

  “Why am I being impossible when it’s such a little thing for you to put on a dress, do your hair, and come to a party?” He crossed his arms and actually stomped his foot. I checked the eye roll.

  “Try and think of this from my perspective.” I held my hands out palms up. “There are several things wrong with even entertaining the idea. Um, the first being I’m your tour manager and sometimes assistant. It’s unethical. Then, ah, secondly…I don’t have the kind of dress needed for that type of party with me.” Under his intense stare I had begun to stutter. Lovely. I lifted my chin and held his eyes waiting for his attack.

  “We’ll be in LA. You can shop online and have a dress delivered to the hotel before I even finish the morning TV show.” He slammed his hands down on the table and leaned over to look me in the eyes.

  “Third.” I swallowed and pointedly ignored his interruption or tried. “Ah…I don’t meet the industry standard for beauty. Attending as your date, guest, whatever wouldn’t look good on you.”

  His jaw clenched and he opened his mouth to speak but slammed it shut again. If I had thought him angry before I had been sorely mistaken. His face was shading at an alarming rate.

  “Find a fucking dress.” He stood abruptly. “This is no longer up for discussion.” The door in the back of the bus slammed moments later.

  Closing my eyes I let out a heavy sigh. Then lifted my water glass to my hot face and rubbed the cold condensation over the heated skin. My arguments had been weak, and there were better ways to handle Nicholas, I knew. Maybe next time I should try the truth. Though arguing that I was fat and socially awkward would probably get me just as far as I was now.

  Arc stuck his head out of his bunk and looked both ways. “Is it clear to come out?”

  I only sighed.

  “That could have went better.” Arc hopped down and swaggered over to the table. “With the right lipstick application the scar on your lower lip won’t be seen. The slightly off nose gives you character, and you do have killer legs.”

  “What are you getting at Arc? Never mind, why do you know how to apply lipstick?”

  “I have my ways, little bird.” He sat and propped his feet up next to me. “Industry standard beautiful isn’t realistic. It’s not healthy, and quite frankly, for all of us here it’s not beautiful. At the moment you’re not required to please the industry. You’re required to please Nick. He thinks your good enough to go to the party. Why challenge that? If I was a chick, I think that would be a pretty damn good compliment coming from a man like him.”

  “It’s improper.” I shoved his feet off the bench. “There are rules to the game he plays. The rules indicate being seen and photographed with women as pretty as or prettier than he is. A plain Jane will only get him ridiculed and dismissed in the media. He doesn’t need bad publicity right now. Not when currently we’re doing pretty damn good.”

  “And being seen with you is bad publicity?”

  “That’s an awfully high horse you’re sitting on, Ms. Sheridan,” Max drawled and shifted in his bunk so he could join the conversation without actually getting up.

  I threw up my hands. Literally, threw my hands up in the air. “What am I missing here? Do all of you need to have vision checks in San Diego?”

  “I think maybe it’s you that needs to have your eyes checked.” Arc drummed his fingers on the table.

  “You’re like a modern day Sophia Loren,” Max provided. “You’re a little taller, even. You might need to add a bit to her measurements but your body proportions are the same.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Who is Sophia Loren?” I pulled my glasses off again and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “You’ve got to be joking,” Guy’s voice floated nearby alerting me that he had now joined this ridiculous conversation.

  “You wound me.” Arc clutched his chest, dramatically. “Sophia Loren, is considered a nineteen fifties pin up model of glorious beauty and size.”

  “Isn’t she before your time?”

  “Beauty is timeless, Stilts.” Max sat down in the booth.

  I only sighed and rubbed harder at my temples. Giving up I folded my arms and dropped my head on the table. “What happened to professionalism?”

  “Professionalism went out the window on day one when you dragged Nicholas’s naked ass out of bed and onto the tour bus,” Arc
supplied.

  “I got him dressed first,” I grumbled.

  “True. True.” Guy’s hand rubbed circles on my back.

  “Still,” Max tapped fingers on the tabletop, “you’re traveling with us, trapped it tight quarters for hours at a time. Staying aloof and completely professional would have never happened anyway. We’ve been friends a long time and with you on the bus, you’d have been our friend eventually. The line would have blurred and erased without your prompt invasion of Nicholas’s house.”

  I only sighed.

  “We can go down to the stage early. Set up and take a look around. If anything is needed then we’ll text you.” Arc reached over and laid a hand on my head.

  “I don’t have a dress.” I was almost peeved enough to shrug off the hands. Almost. I felt myself losing this argument. I grasped at every straw I had to stay on top of the argument but I knew it to be futile.

  “Ask the hotel. They probably know where you can get a dress on short notice. The weather is nice and it’s only a garden party so you don’t need anything red carpet fancy.” Guy stated and I heard cards shuffle.

  “Why me? Why couldn’t I have been stuck to a biddable, even tempered, friendly sort?”

  “That sounds really boring,” Arc stated.

  “So you’ll do it?” Max asked.

  “Do I really have a choice?” I mumbled and sat up.

  “Not really.” Even without my glasses, I could see Arc’s bright smile. “Ezra will probably be calling in a few minutes telling you that you have to go anyway. Nick always cries to daddy when he doesn’t get his way.”

  I would not have my authority undermined. I pulled out my phone and sent a text. The least I could do is get to Ezra before Nicholas could.

  Nicholas didn’t speak to me on the ride over to the TV studio. He didn’t even look at me. As far as tantrums went he was throwing a pretty spectacular one.

  Once he was out of my hands and the responsibility of the studio staff, I pulled out my phone and began going through the dress shops the hotel receptionist had written down. I had a specific style in mind, something that would go with my bling heels. I hadn’t worn them yet; I hadn’t had a reason to.

  When I found the dress I coveted I cringed at the price. The perfect dress would have to be way outside my price range. I bookmarked it and kept looking but I already knew my heart was set.

  I wondered if I could cover it across my credit cards until I got my royalties check from the tour. That was a hell of a lot of money to juggle for a dress I only had a reason to wear once. I could probably make up reasons to wear it again, but…

  When the TV host announced Nicholas’s entrance, I glanced up to see him walk across the stage with what I now recognized as his fake smile. The dimple in his left cheek was missing again. Not that I noticed or anything. I wondered if he even knew.

  I sent him a smile and a thumbs up. His smile strained and I internally sighed. His moods were so unpredictable. If he was a less moody bastard I wouldn’t be staring at an almost four figure dress trying to juggle it within my personal financing.

  There was no way I could justify it. Not out of my personal finances anyway. I sent a rapid text to Ezra and a link to the dress. Let’s see what he thought about it. Maybe I could get out of the whole deal if the dress was too costly.

  Feeling a little better now that I had taken that little chore off my plate and handed it off to someone else. I watched the interview and tried not to be concerned over Nicholas’s less than pleasant demeanor. When it was time to sing, and someone brought out a guitar the tension rolled off him even more.

  I mimicked eating to see if he was hungry. Maybe promising some food the moment this was done would help his performance. With an even better idea I dug through my purse for my emergency chocolate bar hoping I hadn’t eaten it in a desperate moment.

  When his eyes met mine, I held up the chocolate bar and tugged the corners of my mouth up with my fingers. I hoped my message was clear. Smile and you get the chocolate.

  He licked his top lip once and when he grinned the dimple winked. Wow. I swallowed. I would have to remember to stock more chocolate in my purse.

  When my phone buzzed I looked down at the text.

  Dress will be delivered to your room by noon. Keep our boy happy.

  Well, son of a bitch. Apparently Ezra thought the expense wasn’t a problem. Just fucking great. There went my schedule.

  The waiting area was small, around twenty feet long. How did I know? Because the moment I finished fuming over Ezra’s text I began to pace.

  I had to stop pacing a few times to shoot off texts to Jimmy, Max, and Guy. Guy responded almost immediately, which I respected. He was the most responsible out of the bunch anyway.

  I stopped pacing long enough to read Jimmy’s dismissive text and thought about how to respond. Before I could respond to the next ping arms wrapped around me from behind pinning my arms above my elbows to my sides. I froze but didn’t struggle or scream. They were filming only feet away. That would be inappropriate. Besides. I had been able to smell him the moment he pressed into my back. Nicholas’s scent was potent and unmistakable. I couldn’t stop the shudder at the contact but I could pretend I didn’t notice. I had to.

  The arm on top lifted and a hand lightly wrapped around my neck. “Hand over the Mr. Goodbar and no one gets hurt.”

  “Your obsession with sweets is going to give you diabetes.” I twisted my head but only caught a glimpse of his smile. My voice stayed firm and normal, but my heart... My heart skipped a beat and picked up a little quicker than it had been.

  “Nah. Probably just make me fat first.” Nicholas squeezed his arms. “The chocolate bar, woman. Hand it over.”

  “It’s in my purse. You have to release my arms first.”

  He grumbled but released me. I pulled the bar out from the top of the bag and handed it over.

  Nicholas immediately unwrapped it and took the biggest mouthful possible. What a glutton. Diabetes would be in his future regardless of what he said.

  “Come on.” I fought with the muscles in my face not to smile at his obvious joy, “We have places to be.”

  Since his mouth was now full of chocolate he couldn’t respond but nodded. I placed a hand in his elbow and guided him out of the studio.

  There was a two hour window to get dressed and get Nicholas dressed. I didn’t have the supplies that warranted a movie star’s party with me as I hadn’t expected to be a public face. I would be damned if I would present anything less than perfect even though it was tempting to do nothing at all to spite Nicholas. But really, the only person that would hurt was me.

  “Henry, I need a drug store before returning to the hotel.” I told the man when we had slide into the back of today’s SUV rental.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why?” Nicholas asked before taking another huge bite from the chocolate bar.

  “Female stuff.” I smirked when he cringed.

  “Forget I asked.”

  “Just stay here okay. Henry, Walker doesn’t get out of the SUV.”

  “Child locks, ma’am. No one gets out unless I open the doors.”

  “You are a wonderful man.”

  In the cosmetic aisle, I grabbed three shades of lipstick, four eye palettes, and some French manicure press-ons. I tapped a reminder into my phone to get a real manicure in San Diego on our off day.

  Because Nicholas expected it more than I actually needed it I grabbed a box of tampons. Since they were right next to the condoms, I considered and grabbed some of those as well. With a man like Nicholas there was no such thing as too many condoms. At the register I grabbed a couple of chocolate bars as well and stuffed those into my purse before jogging back out to the SUV.

  “Did you get me anything?” Nicholas asked when I slid back into the SUV.

  With a shrug I handed him the condom box. If only I had a camera for the clearly unhappy and uncomfortable face he wore.

  “I can buy my own.
I’m not thirteen anymore.” He handed the box back and I stuck it back in my bag of purchases. I would put it in the cabinet in the bus bathroom. Keeping a box on a bus filled with men had apparently been a good idea based on the rate the first one disappeared. These would be a welcome restock.

  Since I didn’t have many opportunities to poke at Nicholas I milked it a little. “Yes, because that’s what we need in the newspaper. Nicholas Walker seen buying condoms at the local drugstore. The world must know: who is the lucky local girl?” I rolled my eyes. “Who do you think makes sure the condoms in the bathroom never run low?”

  He shifted in his seat again. “Have Henry buy the condoms. You shouldn’t have to do it. Hell, tell Arc and Max to get off their asses and buy their own condoms.”

  “Mr. Walker—”

  “New rule. You’re not allowed to call me Mr. Walker,” he grumbled, looking out the window instead of at me. “I hate it when you call me that. It feels impersonal.”

  “Says the master of impersonal relationships.”

  “That’s different.” He didn’t turn from the window. “I don’t want to be personal with them. I don’t know them and I never will. I live in Nashville and have no interest in changing that. One night means nothing. I will know you—it’s inevitable in three months. That’s an entirely different level than the faceless girls. You’re not faceless, Songbird. You’ll never be. Don’t treat me like I am.”

  There was the blurred line of professionalism I had attempted to discuss only hours ago with the other guys. My sanity needed that line to stay firm. A real friend wouldn’t allow Nicholas to whore out every night we stayed in a city. I needed it to not matter. I needed that a lot.

  The hurt in his words sunk in, and the apathy was so clear and brutal. Loneliness screamed out of him. I hadn’t considered that as a possibility.

  I wanted to scream at myself for my ignorance. Hadn’t it been clear in the last week? Now that I studied the memories there was no denying it. He spent hotel nights in my room chatting with me about nothing. Time on the bus was spent writing music in his little room alone. The one time I had knocked, he’d been reading a book. He didn’t voluntarily join us in games at the table and now I wondered why. If he was so damn lonely why did he invite the loneliness? Why didn’t he participate?