Tangled Up In You: A Rogue Series Novel

by Lara Ward Cosio

  This struck a chord with Sophie she couldn’t deny, even if she wouldn’t admit it to Gavin. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

  “That is all I ask. Please, take my card,” Henri said and handed it to her. “I beg your pardon, once more, for interrupting.”

  Gavin shook his head as he watched the Frenchman walk away. “You were just being kind to the man, right?”

  “I don’t know. It might be fun,” she said.

  “What—being a clothes hanger? Come on, darlin’. You’re better than that. What about your studies?”

  “I can always go back to school—no matter how old I am. But if I want to be with you at a moment’s notice, or even try something fun like modeling, I have to take advantage now.”

  Gavin looked out at the deep blue sea, focusing for a moment on the way the sunshine glittered there like fallen stars. It took everything he had to suppress his desire to keep her from pursuing a career that would share her with the rest of the world. “Okay, darlin’,” he said resignedly, “do what you will. I want you to be happy.” He leaned over the table and kissed her.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Sophie was a size two but told she needed to “slim down” so she adopted a plan of only eating a third of any given meal and began regular Pilates and yoga classes. At 5’9” she was on the “shorter” side for modeling, so she made sure to improve her posture and to always wear both high heels and slim fitting, and therefore elongating, clothing. She was told her style was “nothing special” on the runway, so she obsessively studied videos of established models and honed her walk into something distinctive.

  At countless go-sees where she was essentially auditioning for work, she was met with resistance. The assumption in the industry, despite Henri’s efforts, seemed to be that Sophie thought she could enter modeling at the top because of who her husband was. She was dismissed before she had a chance. And so she learned quickly to not only be engaging with all levels of the staff she encountered but to also recall the smallest throw-away details they shared with her at later meetings so that they could see that this wasn’t a whim on her part. She had decided to fully commit to this.

  More than any of the hard work she put in in order to succeed in this endeavor, it was her persistence and humility that won over her detractors. Little by little, the smaller campaigns and designers she walked for earned her genuine respect. Over the course of a few years, and through an intense work ethic and savvy business choices, she rose to become one of the most sought after models in the world. In doing so, she established the separate identity she had known she needed. The world also knew her as more than Gavin McManus' wife, though they remained the couple everyone watched.

  ~

  Gavin had grudgingly supported Sophie’s career over the years, but couldn’t stop his confessional nature in the writing of the song “Slip Away” for their third album, Dream State. In it, he admitted fear of losing the connection they had with her seeming to “slip away” into her separate life of modeling. He also confessed his jealousy and anxiety over having to share her with the world. The songwriting partnership he had with Conor continued to thrive, including with this song and others that centered on Sophie.

  The song, in addition to all the derisive comments Gavin had made since she first showed interest in modeling, made Sophie nervous to share the news that she had landed the cover of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. The timing worked so that she would be able to do so in person. As part of their longstanding agreement that they wouldn't go longer than three weeks apart, she had just joined Rogue in São Paulo, Brazil, where they were to play Lollapalooza.

  Sophie was glad that Gavin was busy doing a special segment with MTV Brasil so she could sort out how best to let him know that she’d soon be receiving an enormous amount of publicity for being on the cover of a magazine men took great pleasure in studying.

  São Paulo was the densely populated financial center of the country, and not in close proximity to beaches, so Sophie decided a trip to the Museum of Art would be a good distraction. The concierge of the hotel they were staying in let her know that it was possible to walk to the museum and was giving her directions when Conor joined them. He had just come back from a run, the sweat still dripping down his temples in the humid weather.

  “Where are you off to?” he asked, and she told him her plan. “And you’re walking? By yourself?”

  Sophie laughed. “Yes. I tend to do that quite often and am pretty successful at it.”

  “Give me twenty minutes to clean up and I’ll join you, yeah?”

  “Sure.”

  Over the years, they had deepened their friendship based on mutual interests like art and literature. Conor still spent a lot of his energies chasing after women and making a paparazzi spectacle out of himself when his girlfriend du jour was a well-known model or actress, but a long-term relationship never seemed to stick. He continued to flirt shamelessly with Sophie when they were alone but they had gotten to the point where it was almost like a harmless inside joke. They were familiar and easy with one another.

  There had only been one other incident that made Sophie question the real depth of Conor’s feelings and it wasn’t even anything that he had done. Rather, it was the mild “scandal” of a photograph widely circulated in the tabloids along with the speculation that the way that Conor was looking at Sophie in it was suggestive of a previously well-hidden love for her. Gavin had dismissed it out of hand, Conor had laughed it off, but Sophie wasn’t so quick.

  In the photo, they were at an after-party and Sophie was leaning against the end of a sofa, a smile on her face as she looked at something that had been cropped out of the shot. Conor was seated not far in the background, surrounded by several women vying for his attention. But his eyes were firmly fixed on Sophie, with an expression of such naked longing and adoration it was impossible to deny. Seeing that look in the photo made Sophie aware it was something she had come to recognize in him without realizing it. Whereas once he had been charmed by her, he had for quite a while looked at her with something more. She chose, however, to push this new understanding to the back of her mind rather than address it.

  Now, they wandered the museum, examining the Renoir, Chagall, van Gogh, and Modigliani pieces in companionable silence.

  That is, until Conor leaned close to Sophie and asked in a hushed tone, “Where are all the nudes?”

  Sophie slapped his arm and he laughed. “Speaking of nudes,” she started.

  “You’ve got my attention.”

  She sat on one of the benches in front of Modigliani’s less than flattering portrait of Diego Rivera and Conor joined her. “I got some news earlier.”

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “I got the cover of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.”

  “Really?” Conor asked with obvious delight for her. “That’s fantastic, Sophie. That is big, isn’t it?”

  Sophie smiled. “Yeah, it is. It’s huge. I’ll get a look at what photo they chose tomorrow. And the magazine will be out in a couple weeks.”

  “Good for you, honey. I know you’ve been working like crazy.”

  “Yeah, and it feels especially good because now no one can say I got it because I’m married to Gavin. I’ve been working too hard.”

  “What, people would tell you that? Give you a bad time of it?”

  “Sometimes. Especially in the beginning. But not as much anymore.”

  “Good,” he said protectively.

  Sophie stood, nodded toward the far exhibit hall, and they continued to walk through

  “I met a model last week. Her name was . . . Astrid something,” he said.

  “Astrid Ekdahl?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “She’s pretty young, isn’t she?”

  “Twenty-two, in fact.”

  “Good in bed?”

  “Not bad,” he answered automatically. After a second, he smiled sheepishly.

  “And you don’t ev
en know her last name,” Sophie said with a teasing tsk.

  “It was a one-time thing. No need for formalities.”

  She shook her head. “That’s still all you want?”

  “Sophie, you’re a sweet, smart girl, but you have no clue about men. Having a ride with a girl like Astrid is exactly what I want. No complications, no expectations, no hassles.”

  “Whatever. I do know that Gavin is going to hate this SI cover.”

  “Trust me, he’ll love the photograph.”

  “You know what I mean. He will hate that the rest of the world gets to see it.”

  “Jesus, you’ve been doing this for three years already, yeah? He’ll have to learn to appreciate your work at some point.”

  Sophie wrapped her arm through his. “Thanks for your support, Connie.”

  “You know I’m your biggest fan, honey.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Conor was the first to enter the room, throwing himself onto one of the couches and examining a cut on his finger that had bothered him during the last song they did for sound check. He'd have to tape it to prepare for another enthusiastic South American crowd here in Buenos Aires, Argentina—their latest stop on the Lollapalooza festival circuit. After a moment, he pulled a magazine out from under his feet. The photograph on the cover stopped him cold. Then he got uncomfortably hot.

  The magazine was the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. On the cover, Sophie was standing ankle-deep in the clear turquoise waters of The Maldives, wearing white bikini bottoms that matched pristine sand. She was bent over at the waist, with one hand and forearm barely covering both breasts while she reached for the “fallen” bikini top with the other hand. At the same time, her hair was blowing in the wind and a few strands covered one eye. Droplets of water clung to her skin.

  It was the sexiest Sophie had ever looked and Conor’s buried desire for her was quickly rising to the surface all over again.

  “Jesus,” Martin said, looking over his shoulder. “That’s one hot girl.”

  “All grown up, aye?” Conor returned with a grin.

  “Look there, is that her—”

  “Nah, they wouldn’t show nipples on the cover of this,” Conor told him, but the thought that it might be there was enough to make him study the photo all that much more closely.

  “What’s this, then?” Shay asked, putting a hand on Martin’s shoulder as he trained his eyes to the magazine in Conor’s hands.

  “Our supermodel,” Conor said.

  “Fuck me,” Shay said.

  “Say that again,” Martin whispered.

  “What’s up, lads?” Gavin asked, the last to file in.

  Conor simultaneously sat up and rolled the magazine up, grasping it with both hands. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “Come on, give us a look,” Gavin said, snatching at the magazine.

  “Leave off,” Conor said and pulled away from him.

  But Gavin was too quick. He grabbed the magazine and let it unfurl. Recognition filled his face over the fact that his three best friends had been ogling his wife as if she were some sort of men’s magazine centerfold.

  “We were just having a laugh,” Shay said. “You know, saying she’s all grown up, is all.”

  “Yeah, sure yous were. Bet you were off to have a wank while you’re at it,” Gavin said.

  Conor stood up. “Relax, Gav. She’s a pretty girl, but she’s yours. No reason to let this bother you.”

  But Conor saw that his entreaty was going nowhere. Gavin had always been possessive with Sophie, so Conor could see how this would bother him. But at the same time, it was just a photograph. She wasn’t giving her actual self to anyone else. He knew that all too well.

  Sophie entered the room then, unaware of what she was walking into as she chatted with Randy, Conor’s guitar tech. Conor knew trouble was coming but was powerless to stop it.

  “Sophie,” Gavin called, motioning curtly for her to join him.

  “I’m being beckoned,” Sophie told Randy with a laugh and went to Gavin.

  There were a dozen or so people in the room, and they all seemed aware of the tension in the air and kept their conversations low.

  “Hey, baby,” Sophie said, smiling at Gavin.

  “What the fuck is this?” he asked, holding up the magazine.

  She took in the photo as well as Gavin’s attitude. Conor watched her inhale a deep, bracing breath.

  “That’s me,” she said lightly, “Guess someone got an early copy?”

  “You didn’t tell me you’re doing this kind of shit."

  The whole of the room was now an uncomfortable audience to this conversation. Conor shook his head and silently urged Gavin to get a grip before he went too far.

  “Let’s go somewhere else to talk.” Sophie said.

  “Why, are you suddenly shy about this?” He held up the magazine again so all could see the cover. “A little late for that.”

  “No, I’m not shy about the photograph, Gavin,” she said. “But unlike you, I don’t want an audience right now.” She gestured to the people in the room but Gavin didn’t quit his intense stare at her. “This is why I didn’t tell you before,” she continued, “because I knew you’d have a bad reaction.”

  “What do you expect when this is the way I find out? I just walked in on my so-called friends having at it, because you’ve decided to stripping down to nothing is part of your job.”

  “Stop this right now,” Sophie told him urgently.

  “It’s disgusting, this.”

  Conor saw tears fill Sophie’s eyes at the rebuke. “Gavin, that’s enough,” he said sharply. He couldn’t stop himself.

  “Stay the fuck out of it,” Gavin returned with a glare.

  “I’m done,” Sophie said, turning to go.

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “You’re a fucking gobshite, Gavin,” Conor said as Sophie hurriedly left the room.

  “Can you all get your own fucking lives?” Gavin shouted to the room. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the nearby bar and took it to an adjacent room.

  ~

  It was after two in the morning when Sophie heard Gavin letting himself in to their suite at the Palacio Duhau Park Hyatt hotel. After the way he had humiliated her over the SI cover, Sophie retreated to their room, skipping the band’s performance. His reaction had been even worse than she had feared and it left her angry and confused. He had never fully supported her modeling, but for him to act out like that, in front of an audience no less, was inexcusable.

  Conor had come after her, letting her cry on his shoulder. He’d tried to dismiss Gavin’s bad behavior as a return of “The Clash,” the unexplained mood swings Gavin would get when they were younger, but she sensed there was more to it. Gavin had been anxious lately but denied that anything was bothering him.

  Sophie lay in bed with her back to the doorway. She had left the drapes open so she could see the leaves in the trees rustle with the breeze under the street lights, and she didn’t look away, even when the bed shifted under Gavin’s weight as he joined her.

  When he stroked her bare arm with something velvety, she took in a quick breath. It had to be the petals of a rose. She could smell the sweet, rich aroma of the flower. He continued to slowly drag the rose over her skin, then followed the trail with soft kisses.

  Turning to face him, she saw that her husband was studying her intently. He cupped her cheek with his hand and stroked her skin with his thumb. “I’m an idiot,” he told her. “But I don’t mean it.”

  “That doesn’t excuse—”

  “You’re art to me, Sophie,” he said. “You’re beauty and light. I don’t want to share you.”

  “I share you all the time.”

  He put the flower aside and settled so he was propped up by his elbow and leaning close to her. “How’s that?”

  “The songs you write, baby. They’re so personal. And not only are they out there forever, but you give so much of yourself when you perform them.
”

  “Darlin’, people may think they know me from the songs but it’s just their interpretation. They’ll never know the real me, not like you do.”

  She looked into his eyes for a long moment. “Sort of like how people might see me in a photo but they’ll never have me?’

  That registered with him and he looked contrite, but she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook.

  “You hurt me. That’s not okay.”

  “I know and I’m sorry I did that to you. I’ve no right to behave that way—”

  "Why were you so agitated? What else is bothering you?"

  He met her eyes and started to speak but then closed his mouth. She waited him out until he told her, "I'm fine. I really am."

  "Talk to me baby."

  Instead of doing as she asked, he kissed her lips gently, lingering until she returned the pressure. “I love you with all that I am,” he told her, “even when that’s not good enough.”

  They had been married for almost five years. Their relationship had survived arguments, frequent separations and countless temptations. This episode wouldn’t be their downfall.

  She touched his face. “You’re always enough, Gavin.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Rogue’s fourth studio album, Gone, received middling reviews and earned a decent place in the charts but at five million albums sold, would overall rank the lowest of all their efforts. The single “The Truest Thing” was the biggest hit of the album, once again because fans ate up the confessional nature of Gavin’s lyrics and insight into his relationship with Sophie. Gavin posed the question, “What do you do when everything you ever wanted isn’t enough?” in the song and alluded to the fact that though Rogue was an enormous success in every conceivable way, he still felt empty. Though he didn’t explicitly state it in the song, his mother was still the big hole in his life and her lack of contact with him was getting harder to bear. His fame felt hollow given he had pursued it so that his mother might have an easier time reaching out to him. He turned even more to Sophie to fill the void, and this song claimed she was the only true thing in his life, while everything else was artifice.