Looking up, Dylan studied his friend. “You don’t enjoy this?”
“I do, I do…but you take this stuff way too seriously. I’m here to hang out and relax. There are times when a game of chess has you out for blood.”
“And that’s wrong why?”
“Um…because it’s a game?”
Dylan rolled his eyes and then sat back and studied the board again. “Chutes and Ladders is a game. Chess is not.”
Rather than continue to argue, Mick got up and walked to the wall of windows in Dylan’s study. “So what’s going on with the house? Did my Realtor call you?”
“He did,” Dylan said distractedly. “We have multiple offers and haven’t had even one showing.”
“How did you manage that?”
“I told him I don’t want gawkers. He can show it after I’m out.”
Mick walked over. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not going to move out until the house is sold sooo…”
Dylan shook his head. “I’m planning on being out at the end of the month.”
“Why? What in the world are you thinking?” Mick asked as he sat down. “What’s the rush?”
He shrugged. “I’m ready to be done with it. This place is way too big, and it doesn’t hold any good memories for me.”
“That’s a bunch of bull. This place was your dream house when you bought it,” Mick snapped. “Stop being so dramatic, Dylan. You don’t need to go to such extremes.”
“I think I do,” Dylan replied mildly. “This house reminds me of how much of my life I wasted. Any place I find now will hold more significance for me.” He paused. “Your move.”
Mick sighed loudly and moved his pawn without looking. “Have you started looking?”
“Nope.”
Another sigh. “Then how are you going to be out of here by the end of the month? Which, by the way, is only two weeks away.”
“I know. I’m selling the place furnished and only taking the personal items. For now, they’ll all go in storage. I’m moving into the Beverly. I’ve got a suite for a month.”
“The Beverly? Why would you do that? The place is swarming with paparazzi!”
Dylan shrugged again. “I have nothing to hide, Mick, and honestly, I’m tired of avoiding them. I’ve lived like a choirboy since I got out of rehab so I’m yesterday’s news. Trust me. It’s not going to be an issue.”
Mick didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want anyone hassling you. But that’s not my real concern.”
Looking up, Dylan waited for what Mick had to say. After a long minute, he sighed. “Get to the point, Mick. What’s your concern?”
“The bar.”
It would be pointless to look surprised. “And?”
“And…are you sure you’re in a good enough place in your head where you can deal with having the temptation so close by?”
“Dude, I’m good. It doesn’t matter where I live. If I wanted to drink, I could get a drink. I’m not chained to the furniture here. I still had bottles stashed around here that you never found.”
Mick’s face registered his surprise. And though they were normally brutally honest with one another, Dylan still wasn’t ready to admit the one time he’d gone off the wagon after his stint in rehab.
“I appreciate your concern—I do. But I’m good. And if I get to a place where I’m not, then I promise to call you. Deal?”
Mick’s response wasn’t immediate, but when he did reply, it was with a nod and a shrug. “Yeah. Sure. Deal.”
They played the next few moves in silence.
“So what’s going on with this literacy thing? I saw you’re going to start filming some PSAs this week. You ready for it?”
Dylan thought of the script Paige had written for him and how she had coached him through how she wanted it read. He chuckled at the memory.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Paige Walters.”
“The chick who’s working with you?”
Dylan nodded. “Yeah. She’s a bit uptight about this whole thing. Not just with me it seems, but with everyone. She’s got a script for each participant, and as if that isn’t enough, she has very specific ideas on how she wants us to read them—inflection and whatnot. It’s wild.”
“That’s enough to get on your nerves, huh?”
He nodded again, but he didn’t really agree. If he were honest, he’d admit that it was cute as hell. She was this tiny, little thing walking around in big boots and big glasses, and it seemed like she could do a dozen things at once. Everyone listened to her and wanted to please her—including himself—and she moved with all the confidence in the world—until her family showed up. Then it was like someone flipped a switch and she became this meek, quiet, and insecure girl.
It was both fascinating and frustrating to watch.
There had been quite a few times when he’d been tempted to ask Paige what her deal was—why she didn’t think she was good enough for her family—but by the time they were alone again, he found he didn’t want to upset her.
It was irritating to be so aware of other people’s feelings.
“So what’s your script?” Mick asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“I’m talking about how reading helped with life on the road. You know, because with all the traveling and going to other countries, I had to know where I was going. She asked for a couple of stories where it was important for me to be able to read and navigate through the business aspect of the music business and not just play the bass, stuff like that.”
Mick headed to refill their drinks and Dylan walked over to the French doors that led out to his yard. There was the pool, the hot tub, the deck—it was beautiful, but it left him feeling…nothing. He wasn’t going to miss this place, no matter what Mick thought. The memory of drunken parties, of passing out on the lawn, of people vomiting all over the bushes… Yeah, he wasn’t going to miss this place at all. It was time to start fresh and that meant a new house with new memories.
He thought of Riley and made a mental note to call him later. Riley Shaughnessy—the lead singer of their band Shaughnessy—had managed to avoid all of the pitfalls of the rock-and-roll lifestyle. He wasn’t a drinker, he wasn’t a partier, and he never did any drugs. And now he was married with a daughter and another baby on the way and still living in the house he had first purchased when they signed their second major record deal. Yeah, Riley was someone who had it all together, and Dylan should make an effort to get together with him and maybe get some advice on what he should be doing now.
If he asked Mick, Mick would say he should be careful, cautious, and take things one day at a time. Well, he was sick of that. It was what he’d been doing ever since he got out of rehab. It was time to start figuring out how to live now—clean and sober. Millions of people did it every day, so why was he so afraid of it?
“I always loved this yard,” Mick said as he came out and handed Dylan his water. “This layout is a thing of beauty.”
“Yeah, until there’s a hundred people drinking, smoking, throwing up, and having sex all over it. Then it’s a wasteland,” Dylan murmured, looking around and still envisioning those days. He shuddered.
“It wasn’t all bad, you know,” Mick reminded him. “Not every party was a drunken orgy.”
“Most of them were.”
Mick shrugged. “Come on. We gonna finish this game or what?”
Dylan thought about it for a minute and then shook his head. “Nah. You weren’t all that into it and my concentration is shot. We’ll pick it up next time.”
“Uh-uh. Fresh game next time. I know I was playing like crap. If you’re going to subject me to another game, I should at least get the chance to play it without all the careless mistakes.”
“Whatever,” Dylan said with a chuckle.
“You know, you could alw
ays find someone else to play chess with,” Mick said, feigning offense.
“Nah. I like how you pretend you’re trying. It’s fun to watch.”
“Yeah. I’m a riot. But seriously, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you found someone else to torture with this game for a while. Maybe one of those literacy people wouldn’t mind a game or two while you’re in between scripts,” Mick said with a laugh.
And for some reason, Paige’s face instantly came to mind. What types of games did she like to play? Strategy games like chess? Word games? Number games? He figured her to be more of that variety rather than something silly like Pictionary. He planned to ask her when he next saw her. He’d been learning a lot about her, mostly by observing her, but he had a feeling if he simply forced her to sit still once in a while, they could have a really good conversation.
The kind like they’d had that first day over coffee.
And suddenly, the thought of not playing chess with Mick again wasn’t unappealing at all.
Chapter 4
Two weeks.
They’d been in full-steam-ahead mode with the Literacy Now campaign, and Paige was on the verge of pulling her hair out.
She’d written all the scripts and then worked personally with each of the authors—yes, Ariel had allowed her to keep a few authors—and celebrities, but unfortunately, Ariel kept changing things without telling her. Not that it was anything big, but Paige was someone who was regimented and enjoyed having her list and crossing things off it—in order. So far, the only thing that had gone smoothly was the one thing she thought was going to mess her up the most.
Dylan.
“Hey, I grabbed a couple of sandwiches on my way here. I figured you hadn’t had time to stop and eat yet.”
Speak of the devil.
Turning, Paige gave him a smile of gratitude. “Thanks. I haven’t.”
Dylan looked around the studio space they were working in today to do the publicity photos of all the participants—alone and in a group. Paige had lost a lot of sleep trying to line up everyone’s schedules so they would all be here at the same time for at least an hour.
No small task.
“I double-checked and then triple-checked with everyone to confirm they’d be here and we’re still missing about…”
“Four people,” Dylan finished for her as he unwrapped her sandwich and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” How did he know? How could he possibly walk in here and instantly figure out what was going on and what she needed? Rather than make herself crazy with yet another thing, she took a bite of the sandwich—turkey with bacon, lettuce, and tomato on whole wheat. Her favorite. After she finished chewing, she smiled at him. “You remembered.”
He chuckled. “You’ve ordered it almost every day this week. I figured I couldn’t go wrong ordering one for you.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you.” She began to look around for where she’d put her bottle of water and found Dylan handing her one. A new one. A cold one. Her shoulders sagged as she looked at him again and accepted the drink. “I’m beginning to feel like you’re here to assist me and not the other way around.”
He shrugged. “What time did you get here this morning?”
Paige took another bite of her sandwich and looked away with a small shrug.
“Paige?”
“Seven,” she mumbled.
“Seven? No one was scheduled to start until ten! Why would you get here so early? That wasn’t on your schedule or your list of responsibilities, and you know it.” His tone was light but firm, but she felt thoroughly admonished.
Clearly she had shared way too much over the past few weeks. It wasn’t as if he were shining a light in her face and interrogating her, but he had a way of getting her to talk while they were working together. And when she talked, he listened. Clearly.
They ate in silence as people milled around them. Paige couldn’t help but feel anxious—this whole photo shoot wasn’t going as planned and there were still several people missing. She needed to finish eating, make some calls, and—
“Hey, do you play cards?” Dylan asked.
She swallowed the last of her sandwich and looked at him in confusion. “Um…what?”
“Cards. Do you play cards? Like poker or solitaire or gin rummy?”
Did she? Paige had to think about it for a minute before saying, “No. I don’t think I’ve ever played those.”
Dylan’s eyes went wide. “Really? What about board games? You into any of them?”
“You mean like Monopoly?”
He nodded. “Sure. Or checkers, Clue, Trivial Pursuit…”
“I’ve played all of those, but not in a long time.”
He paused, took a drink of his iced tea, and then asked, “What about chess? Ever play?”
A slow smile spread across her face. “I used to play it all the time with my grandfather when I was little. He died when I was fourteen. No one else in the family was interested. Once he was gone, I didn’t have anyone to challenge me.”
Was it her imagination or was Dylan trying hard not to smile too?
“What? Why are you smiling like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re suppressing it,” she said laughing softly. “This is a ridiculous conversation, isn’t it?”
“The part about the chess or my smile?” he teased.
That had her laughing again. Dylan could be charming, and he had a way of making her feel…happy and way less serious than she normally was. “Come on. Something is clearly on your mind. So spill it.”
“I was just thinking how you need a distraction for when things like this happen,” he said simply.
“You mean lunch?”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “No, I mean when you see something going wrong because other people aren’t doing their jobs and you want to jump in and fix things. You need something to do so you won’t give in to the urge.”
“And you think a board game is going to help with that?”
He shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt.”
Paige laughed as she shook her head. “You don’t know me very well. This is who I am. I’m a fixer. I have a compulsive need to take care of things. If I see a problem, I fix it—or I try to.” When he tried to comment, she held up a hand to stop him. “Let me put it this way—it’s physically impossible for me to sit back and watch people struggle without stepping in. I can’t.”
Dylan looked at her with a mild expression. “If you’re too scared to try…”
She huffed with annoyance. “I didn’t say I was scared. I said I have work to do that can’t be ignored.”
Dylan took another drink of his tea and then leaned in close. “Let me ask you something—who’s in charge of this photo shoot?”
“I am.”
“Liar,” he said softly but with a grin.
Another huff. “Okay, fine. Ariel is supposed to be here.”
“And where is she?”
The last text Paige had received claimed that her sister was on her way. But that was…two hours ago.
Dammit.
“She got detained,” she said, although why she was defending her sister, she didn’t know.
“Detained or did she know you’d be here to take care of it?” Dylan challenged.
“Hey!” Paige snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t appreciate what you’re implying.”
With his hands held up in surrender, Dylan took a step back. “Sorry. My mistake. I’ll sit over there with Stevie and Alan. Let me know when you’re ready for me.” And then he cleaned up his lunch mess and turned to walk away.
“Dylan…wait.”
Looking over his shoulder at her, he waited.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
He smiled. For some reason,
she was starting to enjoy seeing him smile. As much as she hated to admit it, Dylan Anders was becoming a friend with whom she enjoyed spending time. Paige no longer looked at their time together as a chore, but rather a perk. Their conversations were always fun and he was quite pleasant to look at.
Not that she went for the scruffy, rock-star type.
At least, she never had until now.
But Paige was far too intelligent to think someone like Dylan would give her a second look. He was being nice to her because he had to. Or felt like he had to. They had formed a friendship and that was that. During her Google searches, she’d found a plethora of pictures of Dylan with various models and other beautiful and glamorous women. Tall, thin, sexy women. If there was one thing Paige knew about herself, it was how she certainly didn’t fit into that category.
So what if he remembered her favorite sandwich and made sure she had something to eat? He was being nice. Still…no one else around her seemed to care if she hadn’t eaten. And so what if he was concerned about her stressing herself out and tried to find a helpful solution? He was probably bored and looking for something to do to pass the time and figured, as his official assistant/babysitter, she’d be open to entertaining him.
Only…it felt like more. Like he was a genuinely nice guy who put the needs of others before his own. Or was she seeing something that she wanted to see? True, it had been far too long since she’d been in a relationship or even went out on a date. Maybe she was a little…needy, in the male-companion territory.
And it didn’t help that he was so attractive.
“Dammit,” she muttered.
“You okay?” Dylan asked.
Crap! She hadn’t meant to say anything out loud. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “I just hate that everyone isn’t here yet. I should probably make some calls and see what’s going on.”
“You mean call your sister and let her know that she needs to call the talent?” he asked sweetly.
And if she hadn’t found his smile so darn attractive, she’d want to slap it right off his face.
“No,” she said with a hint of irritation. “We’re on the clock and people need to get here now. I’m not starting a phone tree. Excuse me.”
One More Promise Page 9