Vivienne nodded and then yawned loudly. “Well, I hope for your sake that they all stand behind you. I don’t think Riley’s the type of guy to hold a grudge, but I don’t know the other guys, so…” She shrugged and then slowly came to her feet. Matt immediately did the same. “Thanks for helping me tonight.”
“I really didn’t do much of anything except carry in some boxes.”
She chuckled. “Don’t worry. There will be a lot more of them coming in and then the unpacking can begin. I’ll have it all mapped out tomorrow so we can get started.”
“You have to map out how to unpack?” he asked with a grin. “I mean, the boxes say what room they go in. How much more information do we need?”
She frowned at him. “Some things aren’t as cut-and-dried. I have a system.”
“Ah,” he said and took a step back.
“Ah? What does that even mean?”
“It means you’re a bit OCD. I get it.”
“I am not OCD,” she countered. “I just like things organized.”
“No,” he said as he took another step back. “You like everything organized and you like to be in control of it—OCD.”
She rolled her eyes as she huffed. “Do you even know what OCD means?”
“Obsessive controlling disorder,” he said with a grin. Then he winked at her as he turned and made his way to the door. “I’ll see you—and your map and directions on how to unpack the silverware—tomorrow.”
“It’s not like that!” she called after him.
Matt was almost out the door when he turned and met her irritated gaze. “Prove it.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she snapped, “Prove what?”
“That you don’t have OCD,” he replied.
“I don’t.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he teased. “Show up here tomorrow without a list or a map or instructions or whatever it is you were planning on, and let Aaron and me unpack.”
Her dark eyes went huge. “Are you crazy? I’ll have to tell you—”
“Uh-uh. The boxes are labeled, so we won’t need you telling us where they need to go.”
“And what am I supposed to be doing while you and my brother are randomly dumping my stuff all over the house?”
Matt stepped back inside and faced her while making a tsking sound. “Oh, ye of little faith. Aaron and I are perfectly capable of unpacking a couple of boxes. You can pick one room for yourself but the rest we’ll do. Deal?”
She immediately went back to frowning. “This is ridiculous. I don’t see why I can’t—”
“Because you’re OCD,” he said, enjoying this playful banter. Although, to be fair, he was pretty sure he was the only one thinking of it in those terms. The look on Vivienne’s face was proof she was most definitely not amused.
“Fine,” she finally said.
“Fine?”
She nodded. “Fine. No instructions. You and Aaron can handle the bulk of the unpacking while I work on one room myself.”
“And you won’t try to micromanage us?” he asked.
“Not even a little bit.”
He had a niggling feeling he was missing something—she agreed too easily all of a sudden. But for now, he’d take it.
“Okay then. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” With another wink and a wave, he was out the door.
* * *
It wasn’t even noon and Matt was already on the verge of losing his mind.
He had left Vivienne’s the previous night and come back and hung out with Aaron until almost midnight. He’d slept fine, and so far this morning, he had avoided his phone as if it were the plague.
Make the call.
It wasn’t as if anyone was expecting his call—not really—but still he couldn’t seem to make himself take the first step and just do it. Riley had to be first. Matt owed it to him. And yet no matter how much he rationalized with himself, it didn’t make him spring into action.
Make the call.
Part of him wanted to call Mick first and find out the initial reactions of all the guys. Matt knew Mick had been planning on talking to all of them, and he had secretly hoped his agent would simply call and give him the heads-up before Matt called them. No such luck.
Make the damn call!
“What the hell,” he muttered and stalked across the room and picked up his phone. It was late enough on the East Coast that even if Riley was back on the West Coast, it was still a decent time to call.
Two minutes later, with his heart pounding in his chest, Matt listened and waited for Riley to answer the phone.
“Ah, so you do remember how to use the phone,” Riley joked rather than going for a typical greeting. “I was beginning to wonder if all the years of people helping you caused you to forget basic life skills.”
Instantly Matt relaxed. “Ha-ha,” he deadpanned. “Thank God for the ease of having numbers programmed into the phone and being able to swipe the screen. I don’t know if I could have handled more than that.” They both laughed, and Matt realized how much he’d been missing his friend. “How’s the tour going?”
“Better than I ever expected,” Riley replied. “I honestly thought it was going to be weird being on the road without…you know…you guys…but it’s been great.”
“I’m sure having Savannah with you helps too.”
Riley chuckled. “I still can’t believe how lucky I am. Hell, I still can’t believe I’m married!”
“Neither can your fans,” Matt teased. “I’m sure there are thousands of women who are still crying over that one.”
“Yeah, well…I guess you’ll have to take up the cause.”
“If only.”
“So how are you doing, man? Seriously,” Riley said, his tone filled with concern. “I talked to Mick, and obviously I’ve seen the reports, but…”
Matt sighed. “I cannot even believe it all hit the fan like this.”
“You know how the press can be. You remember how they tormented the hell out of me while I was struggling with the album? I thought I was going to lose my mind!”
“Look, Riley, you have to know how sorry I am that I brought all this negative attention on you and the guys. I hate that it’s going down like this.”
“It’s not your fault, Matt. This is how it goes—people like to kick you when you’re down, and when it’s a slow news week, it’s not unusual for them to start making up shit to keep people interested in a fizzling story.”
“I just can’t believe how it turned so damn fast!” Matt snapped, finally relieved to be able to talk about this with someone he knew fully understood how it felt. “Broadway shows close down all the damn time! Why did the media have to latch on to this one?”
“Like I said,” Riley said reasonably, “slow news week.”
“It’s not right.”
“No, it’s not. I totally agree with you. Where are you? What are you doing with yourself?”
“I’d rather not say,” Matt said miserably. “It’s probably better if no one knows.”
“Okay, now I’m worrying about you. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Matt gave a mirthless laugh. “Yeah. I’m fine. Really. I just hate being the butt of the joke and being forced to hide out—not that I have anything else to do. I had no fallback plans. In my mind, the show was going to run for a while, and then you’d come crying to me about wanting to get the band back together.” Another laugh. “Joke’s on me there too, I guess.”
Riley groaned. “It’s not like that, Matt. I’m having a great time on this tour, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the same as playing with you and Dylan and Julian. We’re like brothers. I couldn’t imagine never playing music with you guys again. It’s just—”
“Yeah I know,” Matt interrupted. “It’s gonna be a while.”
“Have you talk
ed to Dylan and Jules?”
“No. I wanted to talk to you first. And believe me, it was harder than I thought possible to find the balls to pick up the phone and call you.”
“Dude, we’ve been friends since we were twelve. You never have to be afraid to call me. Ever.”
Matt grew silent for a minute. “I feel like I let you down, Ry. You’re always the one taking care of everything, and the one time I branch out on my own, I screw up.”
“We all screw up,” Riley corrected. “I’m sure you haven’t been paying too much attention to what else is going on in the world, but believe me when I say we’re all guilty of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Other than my nightmare of a year? I mean…prior to the tour and Savannah? I was the subject of all kinds of ridiculous speculation and none of you guys came down on me for it. Dylan’s partying a little too hard, and if he’s not careful, he’s going to hurt himself or someone else. He’s one bottle of tequila away from a stint in rehab.”
Matt nodded. “I thought he was starting to calm down.”
“Apparently not. I don’t know what caused this latest bender he’s on, but he’s not returning my calls.”
“Has he talked to Mick?”
“Like he had a choice,” Riley said with a chuckle. “There’s no avoiding that man. If you don’t answer the phone, he’ll show up at your house or your hotel room and force you to talk to him.”
“And?”
“And,” Riley continued, “he swears he’s just letting off steam. It’s been a while since he’s had this much free time on his hands—unsupervised free time—and he’s just…being Dylan.”
“At least Julian’s got his shit together.”
“Well…”
“Oh, come on!” Matt huffed. “I’m not that out of the loop! What’s going on with him?”
“The usual. He’s so wrapped up in being Dena’s puppet, he’s totally losing himself.”
“I thought he was going to move on from that.”
“So did I. She has no chance of ever making it in the business and yet she somehow keeps convincing him to work on projects with her. I’m telling you, Matt, it’s like everyone can see it but him.”
“She’s going to kill his spirit if nothing else.”
“Exactly.”
“So what do we do?”
“Honestly?” Riley asked. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do. He’s a grown man, and if he hasn’t listened to any of us by now, he’s not going to.”
“So we’re supposed to sit back and let him crash and burn?”
“Isn’t it what we’ve all been doing in one form or another?”
Shit. Riley had a point. They were all stubborn bastards who had to learn their lessons the hard way and on their own. “I guess.”
“Look, for what it’s worth, all this crap with you is dying down. Mick is doing damage control and the tapes they’re releasing seem to be the key to shutting down the rumors.”
“I hope so, Ry. I really do. I’m going out of my mind.”
“So use the time wisely.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“Use the time to write some music. Think of the future. We’ll all end up back in the studio together eventually. It would be great if we had some well-planned-out music ready to go.”
“You know that’s not my strong suit. That was all you and Julian.”
“Bullshit,” Riley quickly said. “You contributed just as much as any of us. Don’t sell yourself short. Don’t let these reviewers get in your head. You’re a kick-ass musician and a talented songwriter. Go do what you do best!”
Matt laughed. “Ease up with the pom-poms. Sheesh. That was a little too ‘go, team, go!’ for me.”
“Hey,” Riley said with a laugh of his own, “it’s what I do.”
Matt waited a few seconds before he said, “Thanks, man. Seriously.”
“I wish there was more I could do.”
“You’re doing plenty—more than I did when you were the one down.”
“Yeah, well…it’s partially my fault too. I didn’t want to reach out to anyone. I’m glad you called me, Matt.”
“Do you think I should call the guys?”
“I don’t think it can hurt, but I don’t think it’s going to help much either. It may make you feel better just knowing you tried but…just don’t put too much hope in them responding. They’re both dealing with their own crises.”
“I hear ya.”
“Listen, Matt, I gotta go. Savannah and I have a plane to catch and the car’s going to be here to pick us up in about twenty minutes and I’m nowhere near ready to go.”
“How’d you convince her to fly again? I thought she hated it.”
Riley chuckled. “It’s a short flight and a private plane. Every once in a while she agrees to it, but once we land, it’s back to ground transportation for a while.”
“You’re a good man,” Matt said, and he truly meant it. “Be safe out there, Ry. And again, thanks.”
“Anytime,” Riley said, and Matt could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t hesitate to call me again if you need me. I’m always here to listen, even if you just need to vent.”
“I will. Now go. I don’t want you to get in trouble with the wife for not being ready on time.”
“Such an ass,” Riley teased before he said good-bye.
Matt stared at the phone in his hand for a solid minute, smiling the entire time. It was good to know he had friends supporting him.
For the first time in weeks, he felt mildly optimistic.
* * *
“You’re joking, right?”
Vivienne suppressed a grin as she shook her head. “Nope.”
“But…this is…”
“A closet,” she finished for him.
Matt eyed her warily. “So these four boxes are all for this one closet?”
She nodded. “If you need me, I’ll be unpacking in the kitchen.” Turning to walk away, she stopped when she heard Matt laughing softly. “What’s so funny?”
“You.”
She turned and faced him fully. “Me? What did I do?”
“You just thought you’d toss some ridiculous task at me like a closet and get yourself off on a technicality.”
Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms and did her best to seem bored and unaffected. “There is no technicality. You asked me to trust you with a task and I did. You’re unpacking the linen closet while Aaron unpacks my office. I chose the kitchen. That is what you asked me to do, right?”
“You’re something else,” he said, laughing a bit harder now. “You chose the biggest task, with the most boxes because you didn’t trust me or Aaron with it.”
Damn. Vivienne hadn’t realized how transparent she was. All day she had been feeling so smug about her plan, and it had taken all of three minutes for Matt to see through it. “Are you saying you can’t handle unpacking a closet?” she asked, hoping to distract him.
“I think I can handle a closet,” he said, mildly defensive. “Linens. Towels. Whatever. It’s not exactly brain surgery.”
“Good,” she replied. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I have my own boxes to attend to.”
“If I get done before you do, I’m coming in there to help,” he taunted as she walked away.
Doing her best not to react, she simply called out a word of thanks as she made her way down the stairs and to the kitchen.
Looking at all of the boxes stacked against the wall had Vivienne smiling. Rubbing her hands together, she was anxious to get started. This was her thing—organizing and unpacking and making sure everything had its place. Its perfect place.
She cast a wary glance over her shoulder, wondering what kind of havoc Matt was wreaking on her poor linen closet. Forci
ng herself to focus on her own task, she reminded herself that whatever he did, she could fix after he was gone and no one would be the wiser.
“Okay, let’s do this,” she murmured as she opened the first box. Cabinet liners and racks and organizers. This was the key to making everything work. Every drawer, every cabinet had to be lined for protection. That in and of itself was a big task, but the end result would be well worth it.
Music began to play from somewhere in the cottage, and she wasn’t sure if it was from Matt or Aaron but either way, she was thankful for it. It was the perfect background for her task. Carefully, she measured and cut and placed the liner everywhere it was needed. Once that was done, she moved on to putting her new flatware bins in their drawers and then all of the new racks for lids and baking sheets in their rightful places.
A look at the clock showed it had been an hour already. She looked around and realized she hadn’t heard a peep out of her brother or Matt. Aaron she could understand. He was hooking up all of her electronics—computer, phone, Internet—in her office and around the house, but Matt only had a closet. A giggle escaped her at the thought of one of the biggest rock stars in the world sitting upstairs folding towels and sheets.
It was probably a good thing for his ego to remind him of what it was like to be a regular person again.
“Okay, next box,” she said and turned and moved it across the room.
Baking pans. Just the sight of them made her smile. As someone who had been food blogging for years, it was important for her to have top-of-the-line cookware and bakeware. Out of the two, she preferred cooking, but every once in a while she would test out her baking skills and was pleasantly surprised with the results.
Each piece was placed lovingly in its new spot so that if anyone were to open the cabinet, it would look neat, clean, and organized. Stepping back, Vivienne smiled with satisfaction. “And that’s how it should be.” Closing the doors, she immediately went and carefully cut the tape lines on the box and collapsed it so she could transport it easily back to her town house and put it back together for the next load.
One More Kiss Page 5