One More Promise

by Samantha Chase

  They paused.

  “This can’t keep going. Someone needs to be the voice of reason.”

  Savannah reached out to stop Vivienne from going down to Riley’s man cave. “I’m one step ahead of you.”

  For a week, Dylan had been staying with the Shaughnessys, and he’d been under twenty-four-hour watch. Riley, Matt, Julian, and Mick had been taking turns being with him because he was so depressed and somehow had managed to find an unopened magnum of Grey Goose that he kept close to his body with his casted arm. No one was willing to argue with him about it, thinking he’d eventually snap out of the funk he was in, but he’d gotten more despondent.

  “He’s not sleeping,” Savannah explained. “That’s what triggered the ’round-the-clock schedule. He’s so fragile, and all he does is stay down there in the recliner playing chess.”

  “Has he eaten?”

  “Barely. I bring food, and he eats a little. I bring him bottles of water, and he’s drinking those. I keep waiting for him to let go of that bottle of vodka.”

  “How’d he get it?”

  “It’s not ours, so he had to have gotten it from the hotel when he and Riley stopped there on their way home from the hospital.”

  “Has he had any?” Vivienne asked.

  “No, but it’s the fact that he has it and is holding on to it that’s worrying everyone.”

  “What’s the plan, then? You said you were one step ahead of me.”

  “I’m going to interview him,” Savannah said sweetly as she picked up her coffee mug and took a sip.

  “Um…what?” Vivienne asked in confusion.

  “The only way to fight against a bully is to take away the power. For the last couple of days, I’ve been strategizing with the guys and my old boss, Tommy, over at Rock the World and managed to get some press time to present Dylan’s story. He hasn’t given any interviews about his past addiction, rehab, or either accident, and we’re going to give him the outlet to do it.”

  “Wow, but…what if he doesn’t agree?”

  Savannah grinned. “I can be very persuasive. Trust me. And I’m not afraid to fight dirty either.”

  “Savannah, no offense, but the last thing Dylan needs right now is one more person manipulating him.”

  “I’m not going to manipulate him. I know how to do my homework.”

  The look on Vivienne’s face showed she wasn’t convinced. “What are you going to do?”

  The doorbell rang and Savannah gracefully got up from her seat. “You’re about to find out.”

  * * *

  “Checkmate.”

  “Unreal,” Riley said as he collapsed in his seat. “Beat me again.”

  Dylan glared at him. “You weren’t trying.”

  “Dude, I’ve been playing chess for six days and I don’t even know how!” Riley said with a laugh. “You should be impressed the game lasted longer than twenty minutes this time.” He looked at his watch. “I’m ordering pizza tonight. Why don’t you go grab a shower before Matt gets here?”

  With a shrug, Dylan stood and stretched, the magnum of vodka still in his hand. He knew it was pissing everyone off that he had it, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to drink it. That wasn’t why he had it. He had it to prove he was strong—stronger than he’d ever been—and it didn’t matter what temptation was right there in his lap, he could beat it.

  On the surface, he was fine. He was healing. His bruises from the accident were fading, and his wrist wasn’t throbbing quite so much. It was his heart that wasn’t healing.

  Why. Why had he let Robert Walters put him in this situation? Why had he caved?

  Because you already knew Paige was too good for you and didn’t deserve a lifetime of dealing with your past and reputation.

  Oh, yeah. That’s why.

  There wasn’t a minute that had gone by when he hadn’t thought about her. Worried about her. Longed for her. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that if he tried to reach out to her, Robert would hold true to his threat and annihilate him in the press. How could he, with a clear conscience, let that happen? After all, it wouldn’t only affect him. It would also affect the band. His friends. His family.

  And Paige.

  He’d seen the missed calls, and each and every time he had to fight with himself to keep from calling her.

  Maybe there’d come a day when he’d be able to think about her without his heart squeezing painfully in his chest, or maybe, just maybe he’d get to see her, even from a distance, so he could know she was okay.

  But that day wasn’t today.

  So he went into the bathroom and showered. He brushed his teeth. He changed his clothes. It was about all he could handle. God, his friends were probably so tired of this. Of him. It was probably time for him to leave Riley’s and move back into his suite at the Beverly. Dylan knew he was strong enough. If he could sit here with a bottle of vodka in his hands all day, every day for a week without the slightest urge to drink it, he knew he could handle it alone.

  He looked at his reflection in the mirror and grimaced. Yeah, the bruises were fading, but he hadn’t shaved, and he looked worse than he ever had after a bender.

  Something had to give.

  Just not today.

  He opened the guest bathroom door and stepped into Riley’s basement living area and froze. “What the hell?”

  In front of him stood…everyone—Riley, Savannah, Matt, Vivienne, Julian, Mick, and a couple of people he didn’t know. He was tempted to step back into the bathroom and slam the door, but Savannah’s words stopped him.

  “We are not going to let you destroy yourself, Dylan.”

  Wait…what?

  She looked at the people around her and then took a step forward. “What Robert did and threatened to do wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair, and it certainly wasn’t ethical. And what’s worse is it left him in total control—he’ll be able to dangle that threat over your head forever.” She paused. “Unless you beat him at his own game.”

  Panic threatened to overwhelm him as he looked from one person to the other. No, he couldn’t do this—couldn’t do anything! The thought of fighting Robert and losing and hurting Paige even more was too much.

  “I can’t beat him,” Dylan said gruffly. “My past speaks for itself.”

  “Dylan,” Mick said as he came to stand next to Savannah, “our PR people already took care of the accident story. No one thinks you caused it. There were so many witnesses, and it’s public record the other guy was at fault.”

  “Mick, I saw the news.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah…you got one or two of the sleazier tabloids who wanted to try to get some attention by bringing up the Vegas incident, but no one took the bait and the story died.” He smiled and took another step forward. “Allow me to introduce you to some people,” he began, and motioned toward the group of people behind him.

  “There on the end in the black jacket? That’s Erik Anderson. He’s the head of the legal team at the label. Next to him? That’s Michelle Jacobs, head of PR. Beside her is Richard Patrick, our insurance broker. Over there next to Julian? You know that’s Tommy from Rock the World. And sitting on the arm of the sofa is Anthony Litchford, the best damn photographer in the entertainment industry.”

  Dylan was confused. He looked warily at Mick. “And? I don’t understand what this all means.”

  “It means,” Riley said as he took his turn stepping forward, “we all have your back. For every threat that Robert made, we have someone here to counter it.”

  But Dylan shook his head. “I don’t want to fight him. I don’t. I…I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” Savannah said firmly. “You’re going to sit down with me, and we’re going to talk, and then your story is going to be told. Why? Because the longer you stay silent, the more power he has.”

  “
We can sue him for slander,” Mick said. “Actually, we can do more than that—we can make sure PRW is done in the PR industry.”

  “No,” Dylan insisted. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?” Mick asked with annoyance. “That prick threatened you and pretty much everyone in this room. Give me one good reason why we can’t crush him.”

  His shoulders dropped as his entire body went lax with defeat. “Because he’s Paige’s father. If you destroy PRW, you’re destroying her, and she doesn’t deserve that.”

  Everyone grew quiet.

  “I appreciate how you’re all here and that you want to do this for me, I really do, but…I don’t want to stoop to that level.”

  “Will you do the interview?” Savannah asked softly.

  He nodded. “That I’ll do. But I don’t want this to be an attack piece on Robert. Promise me that.”

  She frowned. “Okay, fine. But…”

  “Am I late? Oh my God, am I late? I got lost and…”

  Dylan looked up as Daisy raced down the stairs. Everyone turned and looked at her, and Dylan had to wonder what she was doing there.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I got a little lost.”

  Savannah walked over and hugged her and took a folder from the young woman’s hands. Then she turned and faced Dylan with a grin. “We’re not going to need to do an attack piece on Robert,” she said as she waved the folder. “Not anymore, anyway.”

  There was a time when Dylan remembered Riley talking about how brilliant his wife was, and it looked like he was about to have a front row seat to finding that out for himself.

  * * *

  “I have to admit, I never quite got the appeal of this.”

  “I think it’s something you either enjoy or you don’t,” Paige said as she studied the chessboard. She’d loved playing the game with her grandfather, and she loved playing it with Dylan. With Kathy? Not so much. “Sorry. We can do something else.”

  Kathy sat back and smiled. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve been here with you now for the better part of two weeks,” she began, “and physically, you are doing great. Your incisions are healing well, you’ve said you’re not uncomfortable, and you are maneuvering around on your crutches like a pro.”

  “O-kay…”

  “You’ve been taking it easy and getting plenty of rest, and I was wondering why you’re not more interested in getting back to work.”

  Paige looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  Shifting in her seat, Kathy was quiet for a moment. “Okay, most of the younger patients I work with are champing at the bit to go back to work. I know your assistant has come here several times and—excuse me if I’m being too bold but—you never let her talk to you about work. I guess I’m curious. Don’t you like your job?”

  “Not really,” she said and then gasped. It was the first time she had ever admitted it out loud. “I mean…I…um…”

  Reaching toward her, Kathy tried to put her at ease. “Paige, it’s all right. Really. I know it’s none of my business, but if you want to talk about it…”

  And then it was like opening the floodgates. For the next thirty minutes, she told Kathy about her positions in the company and her hopes and frustrations and how she felt like no one took her seriously and how it was like being undermined at every turn. “I know that must sound awful because I’m talking about my own family.”

  “Sometimes family can be the worst offenders,” Kathy countered. “Paige, if you’re miserable, you should do something about it. You’ve got at least another month at home—use that time to do a little soul-searching and a little job hunting. You can spend your days thinking about what it is that would make you happy.”

  “I wish it were that simple. My father—”

  “Isn’t going to be happy,” Kathy interrupted. “There’s no doubt about that, but he’ll get over it. If he hasn’t appreciated your hard work by now, then it really shouldn’t be an issue.” She paused and then a big smile crossed her face. “Okay, let me ask you something—and you have to say the first thing that comes to your mind. No thinking about it, okay?”

  Paige nodded.

  “If you could have any job you wanted, what would it be?”

  “I’d have my own small PR firm where I could work directly with clients.”

  Then Kathy spread her arms in front of her as if to say, There you go! What’s stopping you?

  “I don’t want to be in direct competition with my family. How would that look?”

  “I would imagine you wouldn’t be taking on the same kind of clients. Where your father’s company takes on big corporate accounts, you’d get to work with the small business owner or the new business owners and help them create their image. I think it could be very exciting!”

  And it could. Paige knew that. She’d dreamed of it, but…could she do it? “I don’t know… I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, standing up for myself and making waves. I tend to just…” She shrugged. “I’m the pushover of the family, and I tend to do what I’m told and not argue about it.”

  “Hmm…maybe it’s time to change that up a bit,” Kathy said. Then she rose and went toward the kitchen. “What are you thinking of for dinner tonight? Want me to whip something up, or did you have something specific in mind?”

  Paige heard the question, but her mind was on their conversation. “You decide,” she answered distractedly. Relaxing against the sofa cushions, she let the idea take root. Change things up. Could she do that? It was the perfect time for it. Forced to stay home and recuperate, she wasn’t in the office to take care of everyone and make sure work was being done. And though she refused to let Daisy come over and talk about work, Ariel had called enough to complain and ask questions that Paige knew they were foundering a bit without her.

  And boy did it feel good.

  It was petty but…there it was.

  Her iPad was on the coffee table, and she reached for it and began doing a little research on what she would need to get started. Office space would be nice, but if she had to, she could work from home to start out and convert her second guest room into an office. That would save her some money. And she was involved with a lot of different groups, so she could start looking for clients, and it wouldn’t mean taking anyone away from PRW.

  She had no idea how long she had been searching and scrolling when Kathy came into the room with a tray of food.

  “I decided to go with the enchiladas I picked up from Whole Foods yesterday. I hope that’s all right.”

  Paige blinked at her a few times as she tried to remember why Kathy was bringing in food. Oh, right. It was dinnertime. As if on cue, her stomach growled. “That sounds great and smells even better. Thank you.”

  “You seemed pretty engrossed in what you were doing, so I thought you’d want to eat out here. Or we can eat at the dining room table if you’d like?”

  “No, no, this is fine. Thanks!” It was beginning to make her feel a little lazy to keep enjoying her meals while sitting on the sofa, but it was the easiest way to keep her ankle elevated while still being comfortable. Positioning the tray over her lap, Paige inhaled the wonderful aroma of the meal. “I think I’m going to get spoiled.”

  “Why?”

  “Between you cooking for me and all the takeout, by the time this cast comes off, I’m going to forget what it’s like to cook!”

  That had Kathy laughing. “I’m sure it will come back to you soon enough, like riding a bike.” She looked around at their dinner trays. “I’m going to grab some drinks, so don’t wait on me. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Manners that had been instilled in her since childhood prevented Paige from picking up her fork. The tray had just about eve
rything she could need on it—napkins, silverware, a small cup of sour cream—and as soon as she had a drink, she’d be all set.

  Kathy came into the room and placed their beverages down before picking up the TV remote. “How about a little TV while we eat?”

  “Sounds good to me. And if we can find something that is not house-hunting related, all the better.” They had watched a marathon of the show the day before, and Paige was completely burned out on the whole concept.

  “I’m with you on that one,” Kathy commented as she began scanning the channels. She stopped at one as she situated her own dinner tray. “I hope you don’t mind, but…I’m addicted to these entertainment news shows.”

  Paige waved her off. “That’s fine. I could go for a little mindless TV right now. My brain is too full of ideas about office rental space and…”

  Dylan’s face was up on the television screen and Paige simply froze.

  Shaughnessy bassist, Dylan Anders, addresses rumors that he’s heading back to rehab…

  “Isn’t that a shame?” Kathy said as she looked up at the television. “From what I’ve read in the papers, there was no proof he’s gone back to drinking. Why can’t people accept that and leave the poor guy alone? Sheesh.”

  Indeed, Paige thought.

  Her appetite was gone as she listened to entertainment reporter Julie Mize question Dylan.

  “Three weeks ago, you were involved in another car accident. What happened?” she asked.

  Paige could tell he had makeup on his face to cover the bruises—she knew his face so well—and her fingers twitched with the need to touch him. Her heart raced as she listened to him recount the events of that horrible morning—not that he mentioned their argument…

  “I was driving my girlfriend to work. We were a block away from her office, waiting to make a left turn,” he said calmly. “We had the right-of-way, the arrow turned green, and I pulled out into the intersection and…” He paused. “I remember the sounds. I remember hearing the metal crunching, the glass breaking, and Paige screaming.”

  “And then?” Julie prompted.

  “Then…nothing,” he replied. “The next thing I knew I was in the hospital with a team of doctors and nurses around me. I was confused and terrified, and I had no idea how I had gotten there.”