Her thoughts about Marcus had been see-sawing wildly since she’d hurt her foot. Part of her was dying to see whether or not he would want to build on the momentum of that amazing, sensuous foot massage. Another part of her couldn’t believe that she’d flirted so openly with him. Why had she done it? Had she lost her mind?
She thought about her fall, and about being tended to by Marcus, that paramedic-turned-rock-star. In retrospect, maybe it had been silly of her to panic—from what she knew of him now, he was so laid-back that it would’ve been absurd for him to fire her for being out of touch for a couple of hours (especially since she had a good excuse). Still, she found it hard to know how Marcus would react. On the one hand, he made sure everyone around him knew he was Mr. Casual. But she thought it might have been an act, partly anyway. Underneath the mellow exterior, she saw that he could be as brooding as intense as that song, “I Lock the Door.” She also saw that, when it came to the safety and well-being of Charlotte and Miles, he was dead-serious.
So was Marcus actively pursuing her, or not? It was such a no-no, such a cliché, to go for the nanny. He was ten years older than her, and he was her employer. He was the kind of guy whose every romantic move would be analyzed and dissected by thousands of people. And he could have had anyone he wanted. Why me? Ryan thought. Why not someone easier?
But she hadn’t just imagined that foot massage—he had been blatantly flirting, and Ryan wasn’t made of stone. If it happened again, it could easily lead to something. So what was she going to do about it?
…
Life on the bus had fallen into a kind of routine. Charlotte could pretty much take care of herself, to the point where Ryan found the girl’s sense of independence almost disquieting, while Miles could be awfully needy, and this afternoon, Miles often seemed to be screaming:
1) Feed me!
2) Hold me!
3) Love me!
Oh, and don’t forget:
4) Don’t ever, ever leave me!
all at the same time. Ryan did her best to keep up with him––although it was difficult, hobbled as she was––and, since most of the crew didn’t seem to have gotten much sleep in Portland, to quiet his horseplay. Sometimes she succeeded, and sometimes she didn’t.
.“Just let him run wild,” said Marcus, taking the seat across from her somewhere in the weed-drenched environs of northern Northern California.
“Really?” Ryan asked. “Are you sure? There are some grumpy people who are going to get even grumpier.” Despite her warnings to herself only moments earlier, she felt touched that Marcus had come to find her. More than that, she was turned on. Not a good sign—she had a crush on Marcus, for real.
“Don’t worry about it. Somebody told me that kid’s dad calls the shots around here.”
“Ha ha.” Marcus was being funny, but Ryan thought he might have been trying to subtly remind her, You remember I’m your boss, right?
When on the road, Ryan always took the aisle seat so she could give chase at a moment’s notice, but today she regretted it. Even before their flirtation had jumped a gear, Marcus had made a habit of coming over to say hello, and today she wished he could sit next to her without the very public aisle separating the two of them. She wondered if, just for the hell of it, he’d dare to massage her feet again.
Get it together, girl! Ryan said to herself. You are acting like a wanna-be cheerleader with a crush on the high school quarterback! Stop it, stop it, stop it, this is your boss. Just stop!
When she snapped to, Ryan realized she had missed a significant chunk of Marcus’s monologue, because seemingly out of nowhere he was talking about the kids and his ex-wife and all kinds of super-personal subjects.
“Would I take them full-time?” Marcus asked, although it seemed to be a rhetorical question, because he didn’t pause long enough for Ryan to answer. “Absolutely I would. And I know I could give them a more stable environment than their mother does. She seems to have a major crisis, on cue, every four to five months, usually sparked by some dude Charlotte and Miles should have never been introduced to in the first place. But Bianca doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘restraint.’”
“Wow,” said Ryan. “That’s awful.” She didn’t know what to say, and it showed. Really? she thought. He’s sharing some of the deepest stuff happening in his life, and all I can say is ‘wow’? She wondered, too, why Marcus would share all this info with her, of all people. Was it normal for a guy to flirt one day, and talk about his co-parenting problems the next? She felt overwhelmed by what he was telling her, and unequipped to respond. She couldn’t imagine having had kids with Nick, that traitor, but what if they had? What would it be like to share your children, your flesh and blood, with someone you couldn’t even stand anymore?
Ryan continued to nod and say, “hmm,” “sure,” and “okay” at the socially appropriate moments, but she found it hard to concentrate. Here she’d been having fantasies about holding hands or getting a foot massage, as if the two of them were teenagers without a care in the world. But Marcus was no high school kid. Not only was he a famous rock star; he was an employer of dozens, a father, an ex-husband, a full-blown adult with all kinds of responsibilities Ryan knew nothing about.
She felt like an idiot, daydreaming about him. The massage had probably just been something he’d done on a whim. He’d come on to her, been interrupted, and forgotten about it easily enough. It would probably be best for both of them to forget it had ever happened.
“So, what do you think?” Marcus asked her, though she had no idea what he wanted her opinion on. “Hey, are you with me, Ryan?”
“Yeah, I just…” Her brain scurried around for a suitable lie, a way to cover her ass, but there was none. “I’m so sorry, I guess I was drifting.”
“No, listen, it’s me. Sometimes when I’m stressed, I start going off about my problems, and I just…cannot stop. You know?”
“I do, yeah.” This was a bit of a lie. When Ryan had problems, she didn’t share them with anyone. Not her mom, not her best friend (although since Natalie had slept with Nick, she no longer had a best friend), nobody. She was in awe of people as open as Marcus.
“One time, when Smitty and I were becoming friends––”
“During the ambulance-driving era?”
Marcus chuckled. “Hey, with a little wordsmithing, that could be my next album title. Yes, during the ambulance-driving era. I was breaking up with someone, or going through some crisis or other, and I just needed someone to talk to, you know?” Ryan nodded. “I called up Smitty, and talked his ear off for a good hour and a half. At some point, I realized I hadn’t heard a peep from him in ages. And guess what? Dude had gone to sleep on me.”
“Oh no!”
“Marcus Troy,” he deadpanned. “Cheaper than a sleeping pill. And ten times as effective.”
“Oh, come on, you’re not that bad.”
“Well, I’ve gotten better over the years, but I’m obviously still able to bore you to death.”
“You did not bore me to death. Tell me more about this custody thing. I’m interested. Really.”
“You know what? I’m not going to do that. First, I’m going to apologize by saying this. I’ve always had a healthy ego, but for the last ten years, I’ve been surrounded by people who treat me like I’m some kind of god, and that’s no way to tame an egomaniac. But those kids?” He gestured to Miles, mid-somersault in the aisle, and Charlotte, who was pestering a near-comatose Smitty. “They brought me right down to Earth. They became the center of my universe, you know? Not long after Charlotte was born, I realized that if I was going to give them any kind of life, I was going to have to get out of the way and stop being such a child myself.”
“This, from the guy who interviewed me in his underwear?”
They both laughed.
“But look, seriously. I’ve done it again, did you notice that? Not only did I change the subject back to myself, but I made you feel sympathy for me while I was being a total
narcissist.”
Ryan laughed. “Well, you are analytical, I’ll say that much. Aren’t all your songs about living in the moment, relaxing, and enjoying life?”
“Wishful thinking, I guess. The truth is, I’m kind of a head case.”
“I have to admit,” Ryan said, “we don’t talk about ‘narcissism’ much in Montana. I only know the word from my child development classes. Instead of ‘narcissist,’ we just say ‘selfish asshole.’”
Marcus cracked up. “Perfect. See, that’s what’s cool about you. You don’t sit around asking a bunch of questions. You just say it like it is. You just live.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s what it looks like, but I have my problems just like anybody.”
“Like what?”
Should she just be honest and tell him about Nick? Marcus had been married and divorced, and appeared to be on the verge of a child-custody battle. Her woe-is-me tale of love lost would sound childish and pathetic, and it just didn’t feel natural to share such intimate details with someone she’d known for less than a week. Ah, screw it, she thought. Take a risk. What have you got to lose?
“Just typical twenty-five-year-old stuff. Trying to have a career, I guess. Desperately trying to save enough money to get out of the small town I’ve been in my whole life, so I can go to the best school I can. And…”
“What?”
She took a deep breath. “And breaking up with this dumb guy.”
“I’ll say he’s dumb. What did he do to screw things up?”
“The best way I can put it is that he forgot what it was that made the two of us special. And he put his own interests before ours, or mine.”
“That’s a mature way to put it.”
Ryan sighed. Marcus had seen right through her. She liked that he was pushing her to answer his questions. Maybe he did talk about himself too much, but at least he was able to listen to other people, too. “He cheated on me. With my best friend.”
Marcus flashed a look of pure disgust. “That sucks.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, and it took her breath away. He held it for a moment and looked in her eyes. Then, as if thinking better of it in front of a busload of his employees, an oops expression crossed his face, he grabbed a pillow from the seat across the aisle, and slipped it over their entwined hands.
Ryan, despite the fact that her heart was thrumming in her ears and her body temperature seemed to have instantaneously shot up three degrees, tried to focus on what he was saying. But it wasn’t easy.
“I know it’s a cliché, but time does heal all wounds,” he said. “How long’s it been?”
“A few months.”
“And you were together how long?”
“Almost a year.” But Ryan could barely concentrate, thinking, I can’t believe I’m holdings hands with…MARCUS TROY!
Marcus nodded. “Another three or four months, you’ll be feeling so much better. Promise.”
“Even if he keeps calling me?”
Marcus hesitated. “Well, that you should nip in the bud. Have you told him to stop?”
“No.”
“You just ignore the calls, then?”
“And texts, and e-mails.” She laughed ruefully. “Sometimes I write back, but I don’t say much.”
“Oh, Ryan, you’ll get over him so much faster if you either cut him off, or confront him.” He squeezed her hand. “Do you still have stuff you need to get off your chest?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Do yourself a favor. If you’re still angry, go ahead and let him know.”
Ryan grimaced. “I hate confrontation. I just want him to go away.”
“Face your fears, Evans,” Marcus said. “Tell him how you feel, and the pain? It’ll go away so much faster.”
Ryan couldn’t believe that Marcus Troy was giving her relationship advice. She didn’t know if it was his age, or just the quirky artist in him, but he was so sensitive and intuitive, and he was giving her the same kinds of smart pointers that a girlfriend might. At the same time, though, he couldn’t have been more manly. Skeptically eyeing him—this handsome, sexy guy who obviously loved women—she couldn’t believe he was so outraged by Nick’s affair. A guy as hot as Marcus, as rich and as famous? There was no way he was a saint.
“So you never cheated?” she asked Marcus. “You must have had plenty of opportunities.”
He looked at her like she’d just slapped him across the face. “Absolutely not! When I’m with somebody, I’m with somebody, period.”
“So you’re a monogamous narcissist, at least.”
“I guess.” Marcus still looked stung that she’d teased him about the possibility of cheating.
Ryan looked down at their two hands intertwined. She wasn’t sure whether this was a romantic hand-holding or maybe just a friendship thing. Even as Marcus was revealing himself so openly to her, she still couldn’t quite figure him out. Did holding hands mean anything, to a rock star who could have any woman he wanted? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that, with all the temptation you must face, on the road and everything––”
“That’s exactly what Bianca thought, but no…not once. That’s just me. I’m a huge pain in the ass to be in a relationship with, I talk too much, I ask too many questions, I’m kind of a worry wart, and my head is always in the clouds with some song I’m working on. But one thing I am is loyal to the bone.”
Ryan was about to respond, but Charlotte, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, walked down the aisle and took a picture of the two of them. Then, without a word, she sat in Marcus’s lap. “Were you…holding hands?” she said, pure mischief in her eyes.
“Charlotte, it’s not polite to go around taking pictures of people without asking them first,” Marcus said.
Charlotte ignored him. “What were you doing, then?”
“I was just, um, ch-checking on Ryan,” Marcus stuttered.
“Checking what?” Charlotte asked, clearly knowing she’d gained an advantage. “She hurt her foot, not her hand.”
Ryan looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on this awkward scene: two adults getting totally busted by a little kid. No one seemed to notice.
“I was checking her pulse.”
“That’s not true.”
Testily, Marcus said, “Yeah, it is. You know I used to be––”
“I know, a paramedic,” Charlotte said. “But you were holding hands. And I’ve got the proof.”
Charlotte wore a smile so pleased, so victorious that Ryan couldn’t help but laugh.
Chapter Eleven
Very Special Guests
For the next two days, Marcus berated himself for the way he’d acted with Ryan on the bus. Why, exactly, had he felt the need to pour his heart out to her? She was twenty-five years old and fresh from her own breakup, but that didn’t mean she could fathom what it meant to divorce the mother of your children, not to mention your life partner for more than a decade. There was no way Ryan could be interested in those personal details, no matter how polite she’d been about it. He’d have to show more restraint.
Although holding back wasn’t a strength of his, he realized that when it came to how much Bianca had hurt him, he’d been keeping the emotions in for too long. But it would be better to put them into a song, or to let them out over a couple of beers with Smitty. When he thought about the fact that he’d opened up like that, with no holds barred, to Ryan, he was super embarrassed. No, he wouldn’t be pouring his heart out again.
Marcus also wondered what had possessed him to hold Ryan’s hand in front of his children, not to mention the entire crew. Charlotte was so bright and alert, she didn’t miss a thing. Her mother was careless with the people she got involved with, that she never hesitated to introduce the kids to some meathead model she’d met at a club or a party. That had to be confusing. But now Marcus was guilty of the same impulsive carelessness. By all rights, he should have shut the flirtation down without another thought. The risks were simp
ly too great.
But in his heart, he knew he couldn’t just press stop on this relationship. And he knew, too, that he wouldn’t have had such an intense conversation, or held hands with, just anyone. Unlike Bianca, he hadn’t had dozens of one-night stands; for a long time, he hadn’t felt attracted to anybody at all. But Ryan was different. He didn’t want to spend less time with her, or share less with her. He wanted more, more, more.
For the first time since he could remember, Marcus wanted someone, badly, and he had no idea what to do about it.
…
The next night, Marcus stopped by Ryan’s room during her afternoon break and asked her if she could bring the kids to the evening’s show. The tour had breezed through Lake Tahoe, San Jose, and San Luis Obispo, during which the kids hadn’t shown much interest in leaving the suite after dinner. But tonight, the band was playing to a smallish crowd (“at only ten thousand, it’ll be downright intimate,” he’d told Ryan, which made her laugh).
“You guys want to come join me onstage, like the old days?” Marcus asked, as if he wasn’t confident of the answer.
“Sure!” said Miles.
“Yeah,” said Charlotte, although she didn’t seem quite as enthusiastic.
“It’d mean a lot to me,” Marcus said.
Charlotte nodded. “Okay, Daddy.” She had a sly look on her face, but he ignored it.
Marcus turned to Ryan. “I’ll bring them up during ‘Love of My Life.’ That’s the last song of the night. Second song of the second encore. I’ll invite them up, loud and clear, ‘kay?”
Ryan nodded. “Sure thing.”
Once their dad had jogged onstage to the roar of the crowd, Ryan asked Charlotte, “Is this a family tradition, joining your dad for that song?”
“It was, until the divorce,” Charlotte said. Nodding at her brother, she added, “He probably doesn’t even remember it.”
Love Songs for the Road Page 8