The Swede

by Maureen Smith

  “You’re kidding, right? You’ve been distracted ever since we started recording this album!”

  “That is not true!”

  “The hell it isn’t!” Gage yelled. “Practically every damn song you’ve written for this album is about Viggo—”

  “Bullshit!” Scarlett shouted, jumping up from her stool. “You know that’s not true!”

  “Yes, it is!”

  “So a song addressing political corruption is about my relationship? What about a song celebrating individuality? Or a song protesting human rights violations around the world? Seth says ‘Collision’ will probably win us a fucking Grammy!”

  Gage glared at her. “All I’m saying is that we could have been in the studio last weekend, but you just had to run off to Nashville to be with Viggo. I know he’s footing the bill, but just because he told us to take our time recording this album doesn’t mean we have to. But that works out for you because it gives you more time to play house with him.” Gage frowned. “You just broke your fucking drumstick because you’re pissed off about something that probably involves him. So don’t stand there and tell me you’re not distracted because I know better. We all do.”

  His stinging rebuke took the edge off Scarlett’s anger. She closed her eyes, blew out a heavy breath and dragged her hand through her hair.

  “You’re right,” she mumbled sulkily. “I just got some upsetting news, but I should have left it at the door. I’m sorry for disrupting rehearsal. It won’t happen again.”

  Three of the four accepted her apology. “It’s okay, Scar. We all have our days.”

  Gage wasn’t as forgiving. “I just think you’re losing sight of your priorities. If given the choice between rehearsing and running home to suck Viggo’s dick, you’d probably choose the blowjob.”

  The crass insult shot her hackles up. “Fuck you, Gage! I can’t believe you just said that to me! I’d expect some shit like that from Traeger, not you!”

  “Hey, don’t bring me into this,” Traeger protested, holding up both hands. “I don’t have a problem with Viggo, and I sure as hell don’t care how many blowjobs you give him. Dude’s a lucky motherfucker.”

  Gage scowled. “I don’t have a problem with Viggo.”

  “Sure sounds like it,” Scarlett snapped. “And another thing. If you don’t like my songwriting, you’re more than welcome to contribute your own shit!”

  “Calm down,” he grumbled. “I never said I don’t like the new songs.”

  “I actually think it’s some of your best work,” Ryu piped up.

  Traeger and Zander vigorously agreed.

  “Oh, sure,” Gage said sarcastically to them, “make me look like the bad guy.”

  Scarlett snorted. “You’re doing a fine job of that all on your own.”

  He scowled. “I’m not the only one who has concerns about the band.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What concerns?”

  “For starters, you seem to be the one getting all the attention. You’re the one doing magazine spreads with your boyfriend and other musicians. You’re the one getting approached about collaborations. You’re the one who just got an invitation to sing the national anthem at a Rebels game. For fuck’s sake, Scar. Maybe the rest of us are getting cold in your goddamn shadow.”

  “Is that what this is about?” she said in disbelief. “You think I’m hogging the spotlight?”

  Her bandmates exchanged uncomfortable glances.

  “Unbelievable!” she hissed, glaring at them. “You guys can be so fucking ungrateful!”

  They scowled. “We’re not ungrateful.”

  “Yes, you are! Especially you, Gage. After everything Viggo has done for us, how can you stand there and complain about me spending too much time with him? Need I remind you that he’s my boyfriend?”

  Gage’s expression darkened. “I’m well aware—”

  “Look around,” she spat, gesturing to encompass the basement. “We wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Viggo. The van wouldn’t have a new fuel pump and we sure as hell wouldn’t be recording our third album if he hadn’t fronted us the cash!”

  “You’re right,” Gage jeered. “How dare we complain when you kept your end of the bargain and got us a Sugar Daddy?”

  Her lips twisted into a bitter sneer. “Glad to know I’m good for something.”

  Gage glared at her.

  She glared right back.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  Everyone whipped their heads around to see Viggo coming slowly down the stairs.

  “Hey,” Scarlett said weakly.

  He came off the last step. “I knocked and rang the doorbell, but I guess you guys couldn’t hear me over all the shouting.”

  Scarlett stared at him, stricken. How much had he overheard?

  “I wanted to see you before I left.” He looked at her and then glanced around the room. No one else would meet his gaze.

  A muscle clenched in his jaw.

  Scarlett moved toward him. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  He gave the others a long, hard look before following her up the stairwell. She didn’t want the guys to overhear their conversation, so she led him out the front door.

  He walked to the edge of the porch and stood with his back to her, tension vibrating off him in potent waves. He had on a charcoal suit like the one he’d been wearing the night they met at Reid and Nadia’s engagement party. It seemed a lifetime ago.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I hear you had a meeting with the coach and GM this morning.”

  He turned and stared at her. “Who told you that?”

  “Audrey.” She smirked. “We ran into each other at the coffee shop and had a friendly little chat.”

  His eyes narrowed. “About what?”

  “She told me they’re panicking about your so-called inconsistent performances. So they called a meeting to find out what’s going on with you, and you basically blamed everything on me.”

  His eyebrows slammed together in a formidable scowl. “Is that what she told you?”

  “Yes.” Scarlett raised her chin, holding his gaze. “Is it true?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think!”

  “That’s a fucking shame.”

  She felt a quiver of uncertainty. “So you didn’t tell them that our relationship has been throwing you off your game?”

  “No, I didn’t. In fact, your name only came up twice.” He held up two fingers. “The first time was when McCaskill asked me point-blank if you were becoming a distraction. I told him no. Period. End of story. The second time your name came up was in reference to you singing the national anthem when we play Tampa Bay. Coach mentioned what a great singer you are and said he was looking forward to your performance. That. Was. It.”

  Scarlett could feel her face burning, could feel tears creeping into her eyes.

  Viggo glared at her, his eyes flashing like gathering storm clouds spiked with lightning. “What else did that psycho bitch tell you?”

  Scarlett swallowed. “She said you told them that I was going through some family drama and you wanted to be there for me. She was talking about my brother, Viggo. How the hell would she know about that?”

  “I don’t fucking know!” he roared.

  She wanted to believe him. She really did. But if he was telling the truth, that meant she’d just made one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

  Viggo shook his head at her. “You’re playing right into her hands. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Am I?” she challenged defensively. “You act as if I have no basis for believing you might have said those things. Aren’t you the one who admitted that missing me puts you in a bad mood? I don’t know, Viggo. Maybe our relationship has become a distraction.”

  “Or maybe it’s not about you.” His voice was like ice. “I’ve been estranged from my grandfather for six years, but he recently started calling and texting me. It’s been fucking w
ith my mind and dredging up bad memories. So maybe I haven’t been as focused as I need to be.”

  Scarlett stared at him. “How the hell was I supposed to know that? Every time I ask you about your grandfather, you clam up on me!”

  He gave her a dark smirk. “And you were so fucking eager to bare your soul about Myles, right?”

  She flinched as if he’d slapped her. Taking a step back, she stuffed her trembling hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “I don’t ever want to be a distraction to you, whether or not you think I am.” She swallowed painfully. “Maybe we should just take a break until the season is over.”

  His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Is that what you want, Scarlett? To take a break?”

  “It’s not about what I want. It’s about doing what’s best for you—”

  “Spare me your martyr bullshit,” he said scornfully. “If you want to break up with me, just fucking say it.”

  “That’s not what I want!” Her voice broke with frustration. How had this argument spiraled so out of control?

  Viggo moved to stand directly in front of her, so close that their chests brushed against each other. He leaned down and angled his head over hers, their mouths separated by mere inches.

  As she stared up into his stormy eyes, her heart was beating so hard she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.

  “That was an interesting convo you and your bandmates were having.” Each word was enunciated slowly, conveying just a hint of his seething fury. “What was Gage talking about?”

  Scarlett glanced away from him. “Nothing.”

  “Didn’t sound like nothing.” He roughly cupped her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. “Is that what I am to you, Scarlett? A fucking Sugar Daddy?”

  “Of course not!”

  “You sure about that?” His lips twisted into a sneer. “Maybe now that you got what you wanted, you don’t need me anymore.”

  His words cut deep. “What I wanted?”

  “Yes, what you fucking wanted,” he snarled.

  “Did I ask you for anything?” she fired back. “I appreciate everything you’ve given us, but I never asked for any of it. In fact, I seem to recall refusing your money several times!”

  “You’re right, Scarlett. You didn’t ask for any of this.” His jaw hardened to granite. “And neither did I.”

  The temperature of his tone sent a chill through her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I have a plane to catch.” He stepped away from her and raked her with a coldly dismissive glance. “Enjoy your rehearsal.”

  Panicking, she grabbed his arm. “Viggo, wait—”

  He shook off her hand and pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses, shoving them on as he turned and stalked across the yard toward his truck.

  She went after him. “Viggo, please—”

  He hopped up into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Before she’d gotten halfway to the curb, he gunned the engine and roared off down the street.

  She watched him go, her anger giving way to tears of pain and frustration. Spinning on her heel, she stormed back into the house and pulled up short when she saw her bandmates gathered at the top of the basement stairs.

  They looked concerned. “Scarlett—”

  “Leave me the fuck alone!” she screamed, running into the powder room. She kicked the door shut behind her and slumped against it, then covered her face with her hands and broke down sobbing.

  * * *

  She couldn’t bring herself to return to Viggo’s place that night, so she stayed with her bandmates. The next morning, they drove her to the penthouse so she could pack her belongings and move out.

  It killed her to leave, completely gutted her heart and wrenched her soul. But she figured Viggo wouldn’t want to see her when he came back home. So she saved him the trouble of putting her out like yesterday’s trash.

  Her bandmates helped her load up her stuff in the van. When they were done, Traeger climbed behind the wheel and started the engine, but made no move to leave. From the backseat, Scarlett watched him stare at the Lamborghini and Bugatti Veyron parked in Viggo’s carport.

  She grew impatient. “What’re you waiting for?”

  He turned around in his seat to stare at her. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

  She gave him a cynical look. “What’s wrong? Worried he’ll cut off our studio funding?”

  “No. I haven’t even thought about that.” Traeger’s blue eyes searched her face, serious and concerned. “I’ve never seen you this messed up over a guy before.” He paused. “Not even Myles.”

  Fighting hot tears, she turned to stare out the window and whispered, “Let’s just go, please.”

  Her bandmates exchanged worried glances before Traeger put the van in drive and headed toward the freight-style elevator. She remembered her awestruck wonder the first time she saw the futuristic contraption. The realization that she’d probably never see it again made her want to cry.

  On the way to her parents’ house, they stopped for gas. Traeger got out to fill the tank while Ryu and Zander headed into the convenience store to buy beer and snacks. Gage stayed in the van with Scarlett.

  A strange silence hung between them. Normally they would have been laughing and joking around, talking hockey or giving each other feedback on a melody or riff that was stuck in their heads.

  But today there was only silence. When it had stretched past the breaking point, Gage spoke from the passenger seat. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you yesterday.”

  Scarlett stared out the window. “Did you mean it?”

  He didn’t answer right away. After a long hesitation, he mumbled, “I don’t know. Maybe some of it.”

  She swallowed a hard knot. “Don’t ever question my commitment to the band. That’s a low blow and you know it.”

  He pushed out a deep breath and dragged an unsteady hand through his thick Bohemian hair. “You’re right. I went too far. I’m sorry.”

  She fell silent.

  “I feel really bad for fucking things up between you and Viggo,” Gage said gruffly. “If you want, I can call him and explain the whole ‘Sugar Daddy’ joke—”

  “That’s okay.” Her tone was bitterly sardonic. “I don’t think he wants to hear from any of us right now.”

  Another weighty silence passed.

  “Scarlett, I l—”

  “Don’t, Gage.” She stared at the back of his head. “Don’t say anything that will change our friendship or make things painfully awkward between us. We’re good the way we are. Please don’t change us.”

  He leaned his head back against the headrest and blew out a heavy breath. “I just…after yesterday, I don’t want you to hate me.”

  “I don’t,” she said quietly. “I could never hate you. I love you, Gage, and I always will. You don’t ever have to worry about losing me.”

  He dropped his head forward, his broad shoulders sagging in relief.

  That coaxed a smile out of her—the first smile in what felt like ages. She sat forward, reached around his headrest and playfully ruffled his hair.

  He caught her hand and held it, staring over his shoulder at her. “I hope he comes to his senses soon.”

  Heart constricting, Scarlett swallowed hard and whispered, “Me, too.”

  A few moments later the others piled back into the van, and they were on their way again. When they reached her parents’ house, Scarlett let herself inside using her key.

  Her father came out of his study and gave her a small, welcoming smile. “Hi, baby girl.”

  She smiled weakly. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Your mother told me you called and said you were moving back home.”

  “Yeah.” She dropped her gaze, sheepishly scuffing the floor with the toe of her Chucks. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course it is. This is your home. Always has been, always will be. You know we’re both happy to have you back. But something tells me it came at a high cost.”
r />   When she lifted her head, his concerned eyes probed hers. “You all right?”

  “Not really,” she whispered.

  Her dad frowned. “I warned him not to hurt you. Did he hurt you?”

  “No.” She blinked back tears. “I hurt him.”

  Expression softening, her father folded her into his arms and gently patted her back. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured soothingly.

  As she cried into his chest, her mother walked up and tenderly hugged her from behind.

  Her bandmates came to the door carrying her bags. When they saw her parents embracing her, they put the bags down and joined them, creating one big group hug.

  Chapter 34

  Scarlett

  I Miss You

  * * *

  That evening nadia left work early and came over to cheer Scarlett up, bearing an expensive bottle of merlot from Reid’s wine cellar.

  They sat on the overstuffed sofa in the family room and drank their wine as Scarlett poured out the whole story. Her parents were attending a black-tie function, so she didn’t have to worry about her mom butting into the conversation to tell her what a complete idiot she’d been. She didn’t need to be told how badly she’d fucked up. She already knew.

  “Wait.” Nadia stared at her when she’d finished speaking. “Did he actually say he was breaking up with you?”

  “No,” Scarlett mumbled.

  “Did he tell you he never wanted to see you again? Did he tell you to pack your shit and go?”

  Scarlett shook her head.

  Nadia frowned. “So how do you know this is what he wants? How do you know he wants you gone?”

  Scarlett sighed miserably. “He didn’t have to say the actual words, Nadia. I could see it in his eyes and hear the finality in his voice. Plus I called him this morning to wish him good luck on the game and sing ‘Fahrenheit 32’ to him. It’s sort of our ritual,” she explained when Nadia smiled. “He knows I wrote the song about him and he loves that.” She sniffled. “Anyway, he didn’t answer his phone and he never called me back. He’s totally done with me.”