“No fun being the only one sober,” another man chimed in with a grin.
These people seemed, in appearance, normal enough. But their complete absorption in cocaine was obvious. Though she was inexperienced with this, Sophie knew enough to understand that they weren’t casual partiers. There was something desperate about their urging and she realized that Gavin couldn’t have found a worse group of new friends. She saw quite clearly the only reason to befriend addicts was to become one of them.
“Here, love,” Jacob said, “I’ll set up a line just for you. Just a wee one is all it is.”
Sophie looked at the thin line of cocaine that was now in front of her and tried to ignore the voices urging her on. The pressure to join in was palpable, though she was cognizant that Gavin was not saying anything else. It occurred to her how easy it would be to choose the route of escape, to forget, however temporarily, all her obligations and real-world ties. But it was only attractive for a split second because she knew it was a hollow choice—the real world was always waiting. And there wasn’t anything so awful about it, anyway.
“No, thanks,” she said again and smiled when they claimed disappointment, then rejoiced in the extra that gave them.
Gavin kissed her cheek and gave her a quick squeeze. “You’re an angel. A pure, sweet angel.”
She had other words to describe herself: idiot, weak, pathetic. If she was on the outside looking in, she would have added the label of co-dependent. But she was too caught up in trying to hold it all together to think in those terms.
~
At first, Gavin did a good job of keeping the cocaine use to a minimum. He only used it when he was out with his new friends a couple times a week. But then his occasional nights out became more frequent. He would leave the house by nine o’clock in the evening and return at seven the next morning, take a sleeping pill to come down from the high, and wake up at four in the afternoon.
As this routine wore on over the course of several weeks, Sophie became resigned to the lack of time and intimacy together. When Gavin wasn’t high, he was irritable. She found it difficult to have a meaningful discussion with him because he was so scattered. Attempts to get him to stop or cut back were quickly dismissed. Suggestions that he talk to her, or even to a psychologist, about the depression he was suffering from, and the way he was using cocaine to medicate it, were ignored or mocked. Bringing up the idea of being proactive, of finally tracking down his mother to get some kind of closure was met with cold resentment. His stance was that his mother had clearly chosen not to come forward after the article outed her and that her inaction could only be seen as confirmation of her rejection of him. He wouldn’t be the one to chase after her. He was certain that his actions were not doing any harm, and she was certain he was in denial.
The oppressive weight of this version of him depressed Sophie to the point where she was relieved that her work schedule bunched up so that she would be away for almost five weeks. Gavin reacted with his own barely hidden relief when she let him know her itinerary. Their agreement to keep separations no longer than three weeks went unmentioned by either of them.
The first stop was to Los Angeles where she was doing yet another Vogue cover, then she would walk at New York fashion week, followed by designer Jeffrey Kalinsky's annual fundraiser. Added to that schedule was an assignment for the covers of Elle and W magazines that had been promised and scrapped when she unexpectedly took time off. Then came the back-to-back fashion weeks in London, Milan, and Paris. Gavin had agreed to meet her in Paris where he would watch some of her runway shows and then they would stay a few more days for a mini-vacation.
Gavin took her to the airport for her flight to Los Angeles, as by now the constant press attention had waned. He was moving with more ease within his own city again, and that, coupled with the invulnerability cocaine gave him, made all the difference.
“Promise me I won’t have to worry about you,” Sophie said as he slowed the car at the departing flights curb.
“You don’t need to worry, darlin’. I’m—”
His cell phone chimed with an incoming text. It was mounted to the dashboard and a message from Julia O’Flaherty appeared. Julia had been a sporadic presence in his life over the years, but had become a near constant lately, having found her way into his group of cocaine buddies. He knew Sophie had always suspected Julia of trying to latch on to Rogue’s success. There was probably some truth to that, as though he and Julia had produced a hit duet single for charity a few years back, she had never made it beyond indie status.
“Her again,” Sophie muttered.
He quickly cleared the screen. “Never mind that. Listen, I’m going to see you in about a month in Paris, right? You still want me to come meet you?” he asked.
“Yes, of course I do, baby.” She paused, clearly struggling with what she was going to say next. "Maybe you can try over these next few weeks to stop, you know?"
He dropped his eyes from hers and her shoulders sagged with disappointment. The pressure of being what she needed was more than he could bear lately. He knew she wanted him to bounce back from the public humiliation of his mother’s abandonment and subsequent crushing silence. He was expected to ignore the media attention that had lambasted him for “deceptive” lyrics, followed by fans rushing to support him with pity for what he had been through as a child. Their album sales had soared as a result, all while he had crashed. Cocaine was the only way he could force an imitation of his old self.
“Gavin?”
He met her eyes again. “Yeah, Sophie?”
“You don’t need it. You’re better than that. Please, please don’t get caught up in that stuff.”
The earnestness in her voice made him smile, then laugh. “Relax, pretty girl. I’m doing okay.” He leaned toward her and held her face in his hands as he kissed her. “Now, you have a good flight and give me a call when you get in.”
Sophie nodded and took a deep breath. “I love you so much, baby. Know that.”
“I do,” he said too quickly.
Resigned, she nodded again and opened the car door.
“Sophie,” he said, stopping her and she looked at him. “Just give me some time. I’ll be okay.”
“Of course you will,” she replied before giving him one last kiss.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
The only thing that made living out of a suitcase any better was having a real home to stay in, however briefly that may be. Sophie rented a car at LAX and drove straight to the new house in Venice Beach, eager to see how the decorating she had empowered her interior designer to do had come out.
After a hectic few days in Los Angeles, ones filled with work and brief reunions with family and friends, she was off to a more extended stay in New York. Her home there was Colette’s brownstone. They two women got a chance to play roommates and catch up in between work.
Sophie learned that Colette and Conor were still together, although at the moment they were having a bit of a spat regarding the fact that he was in Canada visiting an old school friend.
“What’s wrong with that?” Sophie asked before taking another sip of her Chardonnay.
They were sitting in the living room, relaxing as a warm late-afternoon breeze found its way through the half-opened windows.
“The friend is a woman who just happens to have gotten divorced.”
“No, not Felicity!”
“That’s her name. And he hasn’t told me much, but I think he still has feelings for her,” Colette said.
Sophie took a moment to get over the shock and sadness of learning that her old friend’s marriage had fallen apart. And it made her feel even more vulnerable in her own relationship.
“What makes you say that?”
“Because,” Colette said excitedly, “I was thinking this whole time that you were the married woman he was once in love with. But now, it seems it was this Felicity all the while!”
“Wait a minute,” Sophie said, nearly choking on her wine
. “What are you talking about? Why on earth would you think Conor was ever in love with me?”
“Because he told me that the only woman he was ever in love with was someone who was unavailable to him. I guess he didn’t even mean to say that much since he’d never go into it again.”
“But why would you think it was me? That seems like a really odd thing to assume.”
“No, no, not really, Sophie. Don’t you ever notice the way he looks at you? The way he . . . brightens up when you’re around?” Colette got lost in thought, her face twisted in discomfort.
“That’s not true,” Sophie said, unwilling to allow for the slightest possibility. “I think you’re worrying too much. And anyway, what did he tell you about Felicity? Because you have to remember that I was with them during one year of school.”
That excited Colette again. “That’s right! He said they were never boyfriend/girlfriend. He said they were just really good friends and that he wanted to go cheer her up now that she’s having a hard time. What do you think?”
“He’s telling you the truth, Colette. And he’s being a really good friend by going to see her now. That’s all. I’m sure of it.”
“Really?”
“Yes. God, you’re all he can talk about anyway,” Sophie said with a laugh.
“Good. Because I think I really love him, Sophie.”
Sophie nodded and did her best to smile at the declaration. But at the same time, she felt an uneasiness she didn’t want to examine.
~
A few days later, Sophie had the house to herself for the remainder of her stay. Colette had been unable to keep from bickering with Conor when he called from Felicity’s and in a fit of immaturity flew to London early to meet up with friends.
Sophie was thinking of her own sporadic and unsatisfactory calls to Gavin when there was a knock on the door. As she padded barefoot to answer it, she tried unsuccessfully to ignore her certainty that Gavin was well beyond the mere partying stage when it came to cocaine use.
Opening the door, she was surprised to see Conor. And he was just as surprised to see her.
“Well, isn’t this something,” he said with a grin.
“Hey, Connie,” Sophie replied, feeling unexpectedly happy to see his handsome face.
He stepped inside and dropped his bag familiarly in the corner. Looking beyond her, he seemed to take in the unusual quiet, as he shook his head with a rueful smile.
“She’s not here,” Sophie said. “She flew out earlier today to London. She didn’t tell you?”
“My girl, she has a flair for the dramatic.”
“That’s putting it kindly,” she replied.
“And you’re staying here for a while?”
“Just a couple more days. Then I’m off to London, too.”
“Well, hope you don’t mind if I crash here, ’cause I’m not getting on another plane right away.”
“Of course not. No, you should stay. Hey, we’ll make a night out of it,” she said, suddenly excited.
“What have you in mind?” he asked as he moved toward the kitchen to help himself to a beer.
“Be my date tonight at the Jeffrey Fashion Cares event?”
“What?”
“I have to make an appearance. But after that, you and I can go find our own fun. I heard there’s a great new burlesque club—very sexy in a retro way. I’ve been wanting to check it out.”
“How many ways are you trying to get me into trouble with Colette?” he asked with a laugh.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, first, she’s not going to like me being your date. Second, she’s really not going to like me going to check out mostly naked girls. And third . . . .”
“Third?”
“And third is fuck it,” he said, resolved. “It sounds like a great time, Sophie. You and me and no fucking drama. Yeah, let’s do it.”
Sophie smiled because she was having fun for the first time in a long time.
~
Sophie gave Conor a ticket and instructed him to meet her at Manhattan's Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum for the Jeffrey Kalinsky fundraising event in support of LGBT causes. She then dressed to stun in a formfitting Dolce & Gabbana dress and went to her favorite New York salon to get her hair and makeup done. With sexy, just-rolled-out-of-bed hair and dark green smoky eye makeup, she was impossible to ignore.
When Conor saw her for the first time at the event he knew he was in trouble. And when he chose to ignore a call coming into his cell from Colette, he knew he’d have hell to pay. But as long as he could pay it later, he was going to enjoy himself in the present.
They stayed only as long as they had to, careful to mingle with others before stealing away together. They had a great time at the burlesque show. It was a performance by good-looking young women who were just as aware of their luscious bodies as they were of how to tempt men without any vulgarities. At one point, two of the dancers focused on their table, preying on Conor.
Sophie watched with amusement as he unabashedly enjoyed when the women sat on his lap or playfully waved their breasts in his face. Conor then watched with pure joy as the women turned their attention to Sophie and treated her to the same bit of teasing.
When the show let out after midnight, they were still both wired. As they headed out to the street, they talked about going to a bar for another drink. But when a photographer unexpectedly blinded them with repeated camera flashes, they instinctively covered their faces.
Conor grabbed Sophie’s hand and pulled her along at a sprint. Luckily the lone paparazzo was not nearly in the shape they were and soon left him behind. But being "caught" was a buzzkill to their good time and they decided to go back to Colette’s brownstone.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Sophie pulled on a pair of thin sweat pants and a well-worn men’s v-neck tee shirt before joining Conor in the living room. The fire he had built was the only light in the room, making for a romantic feel.
“Now that’s a look,” Conor said as he came from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne and two flutes. “No, really. I think that makeup looks perfect with that outfit. What were you doing with the whole designer dress thing?”
She laughed. “I should take it off but I suddenly feel completely lazy.”
“Well, then, have a seat before you drop.”
There were large pillows near the fireplace for the exact purpose of cuddling up in front of it. She arranged a few and relaxed before the warmth of the glowing fire.
Conor set down the champagne and glasses and then joined her. He had taken off his shoes and socks but remained dressed in jeans and a crisp white button up shirt.
“What’s with the champagne?” she asked as she accepted a full glass.
“That’s all the alcohol there was. Sounded good, anyway.”
“Yeah. Tastes good.” She put her half-empty glass down and settled deeper into the pillows.
They were silent for a long moment, both staring into the fire.
“So, tell me about Felicity. Is she okay?”
“You know Felicity, she’s a tough one. I think the hardest thing for her is that she honest-to-God thought this was going to be forever.”
Sophie watched his profile. “I bet she was glad to see you.”
“Well, I took her mind off things for a short time. Wasn’t fucking easy with Colette calling at all hours, though.”
“She thinks you were in love with Felicity once upon a time.”
“I don’t know where she gets her notions.” He downed his champagne and settled into the pillows beside her.
“You told her you had only been in love once, with someone you couldn’t have.”
“What does it matter? Why should that matter to the person you’re with now?”
She turned on her side and faced him. “I guess it only matters if the person you’re with now thinks some part of your heart is still with someone else.”
Now he turned on his side to face her. Afte
r a moment of silence, he held up a finger to tell her to give him a minute. He then got up and disappeared briefly. When he returned, he had a dampened washcloth and a small bowl of warm soapy water.
“Sit up with me,” he said softly.
Sophie looked at him curiously but did as he said. And when he reached out and brushed her hair away from her face with his fingertips, his touch sent a thrill of expectation through her body.
In the next few minutes, he gently removed the makeup from her eyes, careful not to rub too hard or let water drip down her face.
“There. Now I can have a proper conversation with you,” he said with a small smile.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she said softly. The tenderness he had shown was something she hadn’t seen from her own husband in too many weeks.
“Nothing to it.” He patted the pillows and they resumed the position of lying on their sides and facing each other again.
“Conor,” she said.
“Sophie,” he returned with mock seriousness that made her smile.
Undeterred, she said, “Tell me who you were in love with. Who would turn you away?”
“If I’m not telling Colette, I’m certainly not telling you.”
“I guess that’s fair,” she said and suppressed a yawn.
He reached out and stroked her hair, letting his fingers fall all the way through the long silken strands.
“That feels good,” she said sleepily as she closed her eyes.
“You,” he said quietly. “You know it’s you.”
Sophie opened her eyes with a start. “What did you say?”
“I was in love with you for a very long time, Sophie. You know that. You have to have known that.”
The intensity of his deep blue eyes never wavered as he watched her response. For so long she had convinced herself that all he had felt for her was a basic sexual attraction. To think that it was anything more would have generated too many questions.
“No, I didn’t . . . .” she trailed off.
“No?”
Tangled Up In You: A Rogue Series Novel Page 25