Amy spotted Knight’s photographer before she’d taken her first picture. She might as well have had I’m a plant tattooed onto her forehead. She swung toward them with a cell phone sporting a fancy clip-on lens bigger than the phone itself. Amy smiled lovingly at Diego and dropped her head to his shoulder. Above them, on stage Simon spun on into a dance move that placed him close to their table. He took in their lovers’ embrace with a face sour with resentment. And then Casey came through the door.
The club was crowded with standing room only outside of the fancy VIP seating area. But somehow Amy knew the moment Casey appeared. She felt her presence as a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, as if all her senses were on fire. When she looked up Casey was striding purposefully toward them.
Amy clamped her hands to her chair to prevent herself from leaping up and running into her arms. Simon, the heat of the club, the fake relationship with Diego, and now Casey, it was all too much for her little mojito’d brain to take. Way too much.
As soon as she saw Amy, Casey tilted her head in both warning and concern. When she arrived at the table, she thrust a plain white folder at Diego.
“Hi!” Diego shouted as he took the folder. “Thanks for coming up.”
Casey stood lamely at Diego’s side and looked across to Amy.
“Sorry, I don’t think he could wait,” Amy said. “He’s really excited.”
“Who could when their dream’s within reach?”
“Down in front,” someone yelled.
Oblivious, Diego rifled through his paperwork. “Is that all the national team and FIFA want?”
“Yeah. You need to sign here. And here.” Casey pointed to two lines on two different pieces of paper, and when Diego patted all his pockets in vain, she produced a pen as well.
Above them, Simon registered disbelief as the loud conversation continued right in front of the stage. He glared at Amy and moved away to the other side of the platform.
Amy slid farther down in her seat. How much worse was this going to get?
“Is that it?” Diego asked, folding up the papers and stuffing them back into the folder.
“Paul just needs to send over your birth certificate to prove you’re a US citizen. I don’t have it. But yeah. That’s it.”
“Okay. I’m sorry you had to drive all this way.”
Casey nodded but didn’t move.
Diego looked unsure for a moment. “Do you want to join us?” he eventually asked.
“Yeah, thanks,” she answered as she’d planned on staying anyway. Casey grabbed the only open chair and squeezed in between Diego and Amy.
Diego and Amy both had to scoot over as she wedged herself in. Casey’s leg slid against Amy’s as she sat down. The pressure was comforting, even though Amy wanted so much more. If she could just stay like this and let Simon get through his song list without any more disturbances, the night could still be salvaged.
The Plastic Zippers ran through their set. The crowd clapped and hooted louder with every song until Simon struck the last chord with a flourish. “Thank you very much,” he told the crowd. “You’ve made our gig something special. I’ll never forget tonight at the Roadhouse.”
Amy willed him to look at her, but he jumped off the stage and walked right past her into the crowd that surged to meet him. He was soon surrounded by people slapping him on the back and shouting compliments.
“What’s going on?” Diego asked, snatching up the folder that held his dreams as people pushed past their table.
“That’s the gimmick here,” Amy said. “The bands always hang out with their fans afterwards. The new bands cultivate a following, the fans can talk to their heroes, and the bar sells more drinks.”
“Did you want to go say hello? Because I should get home. I start early in the gym tomorrow.”
“Oh my God! Are you Diego Torres?” Knight’s plant jumped to their side, playing the part of a thrilled soccer fan. She had ditched the lens and now held the bare cell phone out with a hand shaking, pretending excitement. Everyone close by turned to look at Diego, and some people drifted over.
“Who is he?” someone asked.
“He plays for the Atoms.” Someone else had actually recognized Diego.
“I think he just got called up for the national team,” the hired fan girl said conspiratorially to the couple next to her, who immediately passed it on.
“The national team!”
“Oh my God. He’s so cute.”
“Hey, can I have your autograph?”
“Excuse me.” Knight’s undercover girl literally pushed Casey out of the picture as she continued to snap candid shots of Amy and Diego surrounded by a growing group of fans.
Amy wanted to throw up when she saw the people around Simon ditch him as they raced to join the real celebrity sighting. Cell phones flashed as everyone jostled to grab a selfie with Diego.
“Knight must be having a wet dream wherever he is,” Amy said out loud to no one in particular.
And then Simon was at her side. He stood there for a second silently watching Diego and his fans. He felt so comfortable and familiar that Amy turned around to tell him how much she had missed him.
The words where forming on her lips when Simon hissed, “You couldn’t let me have this one night, could you? You know I’ve been working for this gig for years. And when it finally comes around, you have to show up with him?”
“Si, I…I need to tell you—”
“Forget it, Amy. We’re done.” He twisted away. She grabbed for him, but he shook her off. “Just fuck off.”
Amy felt as if she had been slapped. He was absolutely right, though. As far as it looked to him, she had shown up on his big night, rubbed her happy relationship in his face, and then her boyfriend had stolen all his thunder. It was the last straw.
The dam that had been holding back her emotions cracked. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she fought hard to hold them back. Diego still posed for pictures, lost in his fans and his fame. She took a deep breath and searched for inner fortitude. Then her gaze lit on Casey. She stood so still in a room full of movement, her eyes dark with pain and concern. The dam broke and Amy raced outside into the summer night.
Blindly, she stumbled to the back of the building and wept by the trash bins, away from the people in the parking lot. She leaned her head against the stucco, the knobby texture pricking at the skin of her forehead, and cried for the first time since her parents had died. Tears slid down her face as she sobbed quietly against the wall.
Suddenly, arms wound around her pulling her into a loving embrace. The sweet scent of citrus enveloped her as she fell into Casey’s arms.
Casey squeezed her tight, and Amy’s sobs lessened. Finally cried out she rested her cheek against Casey’s collar.
“You’re all wet.” Amy hiccuped, wiping her tears off the tanned skin she had been kissing only twenty-four hours before.
“Doesn’t matter. Here.” She was handed a tissue, and then another when one wasn’t enough. “What happened in there?”
“I lost it. Simon told me to fuck off, and I just lost it.” Amy wiped her eyes again and wondered how red and swollen they were. This was not the way she wanted Casey to see her on their second day together. Weak. Vulnerable. A mess. “Are you always so well prepared for damsels in distress?”
“Always.” Casey tucked a strand of hair that had fallen over Amy’s face behind her ear. “You want to tell me about Simon?” And when Amy winced, she added, “Or should we talk about it later?”
“What about Diego?”
“He left. Early day tomorrow. He asked me to apologize and take you home. Some boyfriend, huh?” When Amy didn’t laugh, she tried again. “I get it. He’s all wrapped up in the national team.”
There was no bitterness in her voice, but Amy looked hard into her face to see what watching someo
ne else achieve her dream was doing to her. And now, on top of her own hurt, she had to comfort a crying, insecure girl in a parking lot.
“I’m sorry for all this.” Amy raised both palms in an apology.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Casey cupped her cheek. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Relief swept over Amy and her tears started again.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. Let me take you home.”
Amy followed Casey like a lost puppy. It wasn’t until they rounded the corner into a group of people lighting up cigarettes that it occurred to her they probably shouldn’t be walking so close together. She took a step away from Casey and scanned the parking lot to see if anyone was watching, like Knight’s photographer or worse still, Simon. No one paid them any attention except for two middle-aged men who whistled and called for them to join them.
“In your dreams,” Casey said lightly and continued walking to an old, tricked out jeep without sides or top. “Your carriage, my lady.”
Amy looked around for the blue Camry. “Whose car is this?”
“My brother’s. I didn’t have a car, remember? I left it when I came over last night.” She hopped in and threw a hand out in invitation to the passenger side. “It has the worst gas mileage ever, but it’s fun on a warm night like tonight. Get in.”
Amy did, fumbled for the seat belt, and held on to the handle on the glove compartment as Casey bounced down the canyon roads taking them back to Diego’s house. She tucked her hair expertly down her blouse so it wouldn’t blow around her face as the wind whipped around them. The warm wind fluttering around the windshield soothed her swollen face and eyes, or maybe it was Casey’s hand on her thigh that soothed the rawness that enveloped her heart. She settled into the high backed seat and sighed deeply.
They drove in comfortable silence for a while until Amy began talking. The story about Simon tumbled out from the very beginning when Amy had met him online at a site for connecting roommates. Then on to working together at the Valley Arms, and finally the deal with Knight and Horowitz and his storming away from her at the club tonight. She told it clinically as if she were an unbiased witness to a crime rather than one of the chief participants.
“You need to tell him,” Casey said when Amy had finished.
“Tell him what? That he didn’t earn his own success? That I grabbed an easy way out of a dead-end life and pretended I was doing it for him? That no matter how easy the lies are, someone is always going to get hurt?” Amy dropped her head. “He doesn’t want to hear any of that. And more, he doesn’t deserve to hear any of that. It’s easier, and better, for him if he just thinks he found success on his own and I’m just an asshole.”
Casey pulled the jeep over onto the shoulder of the road under a big Californian oak. The moon streamed down through the branches and dappled soft light on to the hood of the car. She took both of Amy’s hands in hers. “You are not an asshole.”
Amy fought back a new round of tears. “I know. But I’ve been pretending in one way or another for so long, even way before Diego, and I don’t know if I can do anything else.”
There, she’d said it, and aloud, and not just in her own mind. She steeled herself for the response.
“Yeah, I know a lot about lying and pretending things are okay. It’s not a good place to be.” Casey squeezed her hands. “But you’re not in that place anymore. What do you think yesterday was about?”
“Lust,” Amy said simply.
“Yes.” A sly smile creased Casey’s lips. “And so much more. I don’t know about you, but it felt really, really good to be active and involved in something other than my own problems for once. I felt like I was ahead of the game, not chasing after the ball.”
“It did, didn’t it?” Amy squeezed her hand back. Another thought rolled around in her mind, forcing its way out. “Casey, I think I’m done with all this. All the pretending and lying.” She rushed on so Casey wouldn’t think she was talking about her. “I hope you’re okay with it, but I got to get out of this thing with Diego, and Knight, and Horowitz, no matter what it costs.”
“Okay with it? I’ll help you do it. We’re in this together, right?”
They both leaned in for a kiss to seal the deal.
CHAPTER 11
“Of course, you’ll get married in our church, but the reception should be somewhere romantic. Full of fairy lights and flowers. Surely, you’ve been thinking about all this. Where do you see your reception?” Isabella asked Amy.
Amy swallowed hard. The early morning sun flooded in making the kitchen too bright for such an intense conversation. Amy and Isabella sat drinking coffee surrounded by a dozen wedding brochures that Isabella had dropped casually on the table when she had arrived. Now they lay like tiny land mines, ready to explode at the slightest touch.
“Um.” Amy had no idea how to answer such a loaded question.
“This one’s unbelievable.” Isabella filled the silence by handing her a picture of a garden full roses and twinkling lights. “And it’s right by the church, so it’s really convenient. Usually you have to book a year in advance, but I know the director. So maybe we can get you and Diego in early. What do you think?”
I think I want to run screaming from the room. This was insane. Only last night she had told Casey she was getting out at any cost, and here she was, twelve hours later, discussing her wedding reception.
“I think Diego should be in on this conversation. I’ll go get him.” She jumped up before Isabella could stop her.
The steady clank of weights led her right to the gym. The door was wide open, and Diego sat on a bench with a free weight curled in his hand while Rob adjusted his elbow.
Amy hesitated, hovering in the doorway, uncertain what to do. The scene inside felt so intimate that it almost pushed her physically away. The men didn’t even notice her.
But then a new emotion took hold of her. She wanted to rush in between them and rescue Diego. She didn’t trust Rob one bit. But Rob made his move before she could make hers.
He dipped his head and kissed Diego full on the lips.
Diego dropped the weight with a thud and leapt away. “What the hell?” he yelled. “What are you doing?”
“Come on, Diego. You know you want it. I see the way you look at me.”
“I do not.” Real horror rose in Diego’s voice.
“Who do you think you’re kidding? We both know that you aren’t into that skanky girlfriend.” Rob moved toward him.
“Get the fuck away from me, man.” Diego swatted Rob’s hands as he reached out for him.
“We don’t have to tell anyone.”
“You’d better leave right now.” Diego rose to his full height, anger and panic sparked off him.
“Seriously, man. This doesn’t excite you?” Rob yanked a glossy photo out of his sports bag and thrust it at Diego. Amy couldn’t see what exactly was on it, but from Diego’s horrified expression, she knew it was one of the pornographic ones. He dropped it as if scalded.
“We could have so much fun, man.” Rob’s voice was full of yearning. He wasn’t giving up. He wasn’t even listening.
“Get the hell out of here and don’t ever come back.” Diego shoved him away. “You’re fired.”
“It’s not going to be that easy. Since day one, your eyes have been glued to my ass.”
Amy saw a hardness settle on Rob’s face. A switch had flipped somewhere in his head. He grabbed Diego’s crotch. “I can take all of you, if you let me.”
Then Diego did something that Amy didn’t know he had in him. He hauled off and slugged Rob smack in the face. It was like a scene from a movie. Rob fell to the ground and Diego stood over him, shaking with anger, eyeing him like the trash he was.
“Fine. I’ll go.” Diego strode to the door. He flinched when he saw Amy in the doorway, but he didn’t stop and strode past
her.
“Diego! Wait!” She attempted to grab his arm, but he shook her off and kept going.
“You’ll be sorry!” Rob sounded almost as if he was crying.
Diego rounded the corner of the hallway into the kitchen. There he skidded to a sudden halt. Amy rushed in to find Isabella standing at the table.
“Diego? Was that you shouting? What on earth is going on?” She wore the expression that all mothers reserve for errant boys.
“Why are you here, Mama?” Diego could barely get the words out.
“The wedding, of course. Come join us. If you’re done shouting, that is?” she said, lightly. Amy could see it was the last straw for him. Landmines had exploded under him all morning.
Diego’s hands began to shake, and he clenched them into fists. “Not now, Mama. I—”
“Diego. Stop. You can’t do this anymore.” Amy heard herself say, much to her own surprise. The words just popped out.
He spun to her. “Amy…” His warning was soft, but very clear.
Amy’s heart started pounding. If she went ahead, there was no coming back. But what had Casey said last night? “Get ahead of the game, not behind the ball.”
“She’s going to find out some way, Diego.” Amy marveled at how confident she sounded. “The question is do you want her to find out from the tabloids or some internet scandal? Or from you?”
Diego said nothing. Panic rolled off him in waves. Amy had boxed him into a corner. Now he had two options, lie or come clean.
“Find out what?” Isabella asked quietly.
“Tell her. She’s your mother.”
There was a long moment where no one said anything, or even moved. Then Diego’s whole body sagged, and Amy knew that she had finally reached him. His fists unclenched.
“I…I…” He raked a hand through his hair. He looked to Amy, who nodded her encouragement,
“This is as much for you as it is for your mother,” Amy said.
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