“Emily,” I interjected. I’d never been so affronted.
“Emelia,” Carter said, scowling back at me.
“Emily,” I repeated.
“Oh, wow,” the taller blonde drawled, garnering our attention. “You’re the chick Tate Watkins married.” She held her hand out to Cooper, who was managing a smile. “So…nice….to…meet….you,” she said slowly, as if Coop was deaf and not voluntarily mute. Coop’s faux smile fell.
“Hey,” Carter disregarding the looks on our faces. “You guys don’t mind keeping Heather—”
“Hailey,” the taller blonde corrected.
“Hailey and Jasmine—”
“Jasmund,” the shorter one corrected. “It’s like Jasmine and Edmund combined. They were both family names and my parents could decide.”
“Anyhow,” Carter said, ignoring her, “you don’t mind hanging with them while we’re in the green room?” The question was rhetorical, because he gave the girls each a pat on the ass before he turned and sauntered out of the room.
“So you really are pregnant,” the taller blonde stated. I didn’t bother to remember their names. Cocking her hip to the side, she pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped the screen with the tip of her finger. “Do you mind if I take your picture?” Again, she held up her phone and mimed snapping a picture, as if Coop was disabled. “It’ll only take a second.”
“Marshall,” Coop called, having lost her patience. “Why don’t you take the girls down to the pit? It really has the best view of the stage. Make sure they get a spot right in the front.”
“But we’ll get to come back after the show,” the shorter girl asked, “right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Coop said. “Absolutely.” They didn’t have their stage passes yet. They’d never get back in unless one of the band approved it. “Marshall will bring the passes out to you before the end of the show.”
Yeah, right, I thought.
Marshall threw an amused grin over his shoulder as he walked them out. “I’ll send Taylor down until I get back.” He pulled the door to the dressing room closed as he left, sealing out the din of voices.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” I asked immediately.
Coop raised her shoulders. “Beats me.”
“Do they always bring their One Hit Wonders back stage?”
“Pretty much. Between the contests, promo events, the girls, family members, stage crew, and reporters, the place is usually insane.” Crossing the room, Coop rummaged through the fridge until she found a bottle of water. She uncapped it and took a deep drink. “I was still playing with dollies when they started touring. Who am I to interfere?”
“You’re Tate’s wife.”
Coop lifted a shoulder. “As long as Levy isn’t around, I try not to say anything.”
“You’re a better person than I am.” Joining Coop, I dug through the fridge, and settled on mixing a mimosa. The place was loaded with enough champagne to ring in the New Year. I thought, what the hell. It’d been years since I rang in anything.
Breaking into a sheepish smile, Coop said, “Not really, I just stay on the bus with Tate until the last minute.”
“Maybe I should’ve taken Shane up on that shower.” Coop’s smile widened. She didn’t bother to hide it. “Stai zitto,” I warned. “Don’t say it. I will slap you.”
“I didn’t say—” Voice cracking, Coop’s smile fell. Instead of working to clear her throat, she sipped at her water and pulled out her tablet. She had been pushing it lately. Thanks to my return, she couldn’t restrain herself. “I didn’t say anything!”
“You didn’t have to. With a smile like that, there was nothing left to speculate.” Lifting my mimosa, I took a tentative sip. It wasn’t half bad. “And stop looking at me like that. Yes, I like him. I do worry though, with what they did to Tommy.”
“Richard’s a good lawyer.”
“Richard is Tommy’s lawyer, too.”
“Richard, alone, holds the band’s contract,” Coop clarified. “He told Carter he would leave the firm if Tommy presses charges.”
“I don’t want to disrupt anyone else’s lives.”
“You wouldn’t. Jess misses Seattle, anyhow. It would give them an excuse to move back here. You’d probably be doing them a favor.”
I’m sure Gabi would thank me for separating her from her friends. No kid wanted to change schools once they’d found their clique. Not to mention that Jess would have to rebuild her veterinary practice and Richard would have to find a new law firm. They weren’t like Coop and I. They had material assets to account for.
“Em.”
I looked up, found Cooper staring concernedly. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you mind being here? I don’t want to have forced you.”
“You didn’t. Your husband did.” It was a terrible attempt at humor.
“I’m not saying that I’m letting you go back,” Coop clarified. “But if it’s too hard for you…” She gestured to her stomach. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to be our nanny.”
Pulling Coop into a one arm embrace, I tilted my head toward hers. “It’s hard, Coop. I’m not going to lie to you, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I let her go before we got to emotional. Neither of us wanted runny mascara. “Besides, I lost my job. And I’m sure Tate pays better than most daycares.”
With that off her chest, Coop’s natural pluck returned. Her blue eyes twinkled with humor. “We cleaned out the pool house for you. Tate had it redecorated. We figured you’d want your own space. Or do you have other living arrangements in mind?”
I hated to disappoint her, but I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what else to say. “I don’t know, yet. I don’t even know what we’re doing.”
“Dating,” Coop pointed out. “Pretty seriously from the sound of it.”
“Just because we have great sex doesn’t mean that I should jump into living with him, nor has he asked me to.”
“Excuses.”
“Vaffanculo, Coop.”
Shane was the first to return to the dressing room. Apparently, he didn’t do the interview thing. He let Tate do the talking, since he was their front man. It didn’t surprise me. Shane wasn’t a big talker. He was frugal and concise with his answers.
After Shane’s return, the guests started arriving. The fans varied in age. These were the die-hards that stalked the phone lines, the local station’s numbers preprogrammed into the keypads, waiting with bated breath for the signal to call in. It was funny to watch from my perspective, the smiles plastered on their faces as they hung on the band’s every word, because I didn’t see the guys that way.
To me, they were just Shane, Tate, Carter and Jake.
My outlook changed drastically, however, a few hours later when Coop and I stood backstage and the lights dimmed over the arena. Tate gave Coop a pat on the ass and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Stay backstage,” he reminded her, as if she needed reminding. “I had them set up a monitor so you could see everything.” He gestured to a large flat screen off to the right. “Keep an eye on it.”
Winking, he jogged out onto the stage.
Surprising me, Shane pulled me into his arms, taking me with a kiss that left me stunned and blinking. “After the show,” he reminded me. As he sauntered on stage, he turned and mouthed, “You’re mine.”
Glancing at Coop, I found her giggling. My eyes narrowed. “Stai zitto.”
Laughing harder, Coop lift her hands and shook her head.
As Carter passed, he shoulder his way between us, sending me off balance. “Cockblockers,” he said, loud enough that we could hear. Without turning to apologize, he strode on stage and lifted the guitar strap over his neck.
“We were doing him a favor,” I told Coop. “I think he lost brain cells just being around them.”
“He’ll have lost even more before the night is over.” As we watched, he pointed at the two blondes in the first row, and had security allow them past the gate.
“I really wish Mattie would’ve grown some balls and kissed him while she was around.” The three of us just sort of clicked when we met. Likely because she was intelligent. She could add more to the conversation than, ‘yeah’ or ‘uh huh’.
“What the fuck was that about?” Jake asked. Tilting his head, he pushed his hand beneath his blond hair and tucked his ear piece into his ear. “Did he just push you?”
“He’s pouting because Coop kicked his girls out of the dressing room,” I explained. “Their fingers were getting itchy on the shutter button.”
“Yeah, well, he better watch himself. Shane looks like he wants to rip his head off.”
Yes, he did. Meeting his eye, he jerked his head in Carter’s direction. I shrugged and shook my head. It was nothing; don’t worry about it. When that didn’t dispel his anger, I lifted my hand and blew him a sexy kiss, leaning my whole body into it. A smile snaked across his face. He turned away and went back to checking his equipment.
“You’re good for him,” Jake observed, glancing from Shane and back to me. “Maybe you can keep his ass clean for good this time.”
“No pressure or anything.”
“You accepting ownership?”
“More like leasing with the option to buy.”
“Fair enough.” Laughing, Jake set off across the stage. “Enjoy the show, ladies.”
I’d be damned if I wouldn’t. Watching Shane stretch and flex his arms and legs, I could feel my face flush with heat. I’d seen them in action, first hand, and I knew the power he exuded. My heart stuttered in my chest at just the reminder.
After a few minutes of loosening his muscles, he sat on his stool and began testing his drums, giving them a round of practice beats. The tone of the crowd changed. It didn’t grow quieter, but you could feel their anticipation burgeoning.
A few seconds later, Tate began testing his guitar, likewise. The noise of the crowd altered again. The fans began to rise from their seats. Those in the pit began to move forward and crowd the gate. Shrill whistles sounded left and right.
When Carter joined in on the bass, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. The notes he was playing mirrored his hot-headed mood and brooding behavior. It simmered and roiled before rising to my chest and squeezing my heart in a firm grip.
Last, but certainly not least, Jake’s fingers began dancing across his keyboard. He took it from a high soprano all the way down to a deep, soul-wrenching bass. He was only testing the keys and warming up, but to me it sounded like magic.
Drawing my attention, Coop touched my arm. Like mine, her eyes were rimmed with moisture. “Is it always like this?” I asked. “Merda, I think I’m going to ball like a baby. You’d think I was at the fuckin’ symphony.”
Coop laughed and put her hand over her heart, patting her chest in a mock beat. Then she fanned them outward like her heart just burst. Pride, she mouthed, pointing from me to Shane, and patted her heart again. I supposed I was. I was proud, proud and fucking humbled that this man with such talent found interest in me, who had no natural talent whosoever.
A loud hush fell over the audience as Carter began plucking his bass. The spotlights lit up. The things were spinning every which way, throwing beams across the ceiling. As each member of the band joined in, the lights settled on them, illuminating them as they gave a sample of what they were bringing to the show.
When Shane began pounding on his drums, my heart skipped a beat and then picked up again in double time. My. God. I was in complete and utter awe. Any father that couldn’t call himself proud to have a son like Shane didn’t deserve to be a father at all. Tears sprung from my eyes. I wept. I really did. I cried like a fuckin’ baby. Thankfully, Coop pinched me on the arm before I could cause too much damage to my makeup.
But by God, that man could play. In what lasted probably thirty seconds, he banged out a piece that had my emotions so tangled up inside, I didn’t know if I wanted to profess my love or get down on my knees and suck his cock.
Drawing my attention, Coop stuffed her tablet in my face. “You love him!”
Quickly denying it, I rolled my eyes and shook my head, holding up the champagne flute in my hand. “Punch drunk. That’s all.”
As Tate began belting out the first song of the night, the crowd drowned out any retort Coop might’ve had. He sang about the devil riding his coattails, and all the bad things in life he’d done. How the only thing that would stop him was an angel with a Gatling gun. He got his angel, I surmised, but I don’t know about the gun.
When I looked at Coop, she held her hand up—which was shaped like a gun—and blew on the tip of her finger. Leaning together, we broke down into laughter.
By the end of the concert, Marshall had found stools for Coop and me. Coop was understandably tired and I was undeniably wasted. I took the stool without argument.
Tate’s pace had slowed, and he promised one more song to the audience. “First, though, I’d like to play a song I wrote for my wife. There’s a lot of shit being slung right now, but this here is the truth. This is ‘The Story of Us’.”
“Oh God,” Coop gasped, staring at the flat screen a few feet away. Her image was on the screen, dressed in her gray pencil skirt. She was headed into Dairy Obscene, the ice cream shop where they first met. As Tate started to strum the guitar, the image came to life. There was no sound, but it only added to the nostalgia of the video. Coop hid her face in her hand, but peeked through her fingers. “Oh God.”
I always told her that pencil skirt looked hot. Carter, no doubt, got a good view of her assets as she strut into the shop. Tate shadowed her steps, obviously doing his thing. Coop wasn’t falling for it. I knew the whole story, because Coop had told me all the details when she came home. Sure enough, Tate introduced himself, and Coop nearly choked to death on her ice cream. Seconds later, she left him in the dust. The camera shifted to Tate, who smiled crookedly. “I think she liked me.”
As the film continued, Tate continued to strum his guitar. The melody was somber and sweet. This time, they were at The Loft, the bar Coop worked at when Tate discovered she wasn’t just a pretty face. The camera followed the curvaceous backside of none other than Coop as she carried two large trays of platters, passing Tate’s table without acknowledgment. And it looked like Carter got a great close up as she pressed that backside against the edge of their table. Still, she didn’t recognize those behind her. Recognition came a few minutes later when she returned with an empty tray tucked under her arm, and her pen and pad in hand. Her cordial smile faded into a blatant frown.
“Strike two,” Tate told the audience. “She had me sweating.” The audience responded with silent laughter. Shrill whistles rang through the crowd in applause.
Looking on with horror, Coop had her hands clasped to either side of her face. “I hate Carter Strickland.”
Shane slipped gently in on the drums, caressing the symbols with the wire brush, and slowly building momentum. Tate followed, purring his lyrics in a deep bass. Carter joined in, plucking a low rumbling rhythm like rain on a stormy night. Jake’s fingers danced over the keys, starting low, and progressively working their way up the keyboard. Tears formed again in my eyes, provoked by the haunting melody.
“I’ll catch you when you fall
“On your darkest of days
“What nightmares might come
“I will chase them away
On the screen, Coop walked on stage dressed in her oakie uniform. They’d reduced the speed to slow motion in this clip. You could just see her come to life on the stage. The smile on her face reached her eyes. Her moves came naturally, untrained by Hollywood’s elite and all the better for it. She didn’t have that fake discipline of most stage dancers. She moved in her own buoyant style, captivating the audience with her charm.
Trading out his wire brushes for a heavier pair of sticks, Shane drove the band in a natural crescendo until they reached a heart pounding climax. Goosebumps rose across my arms, affected by the heart and
soul Tate poured into the song.
“So live life like you mean it
“Choose as you see fit
“Cause I will not fail you
“Together we can pull through
“Come take my hand
“I’ll show you the way
“I’ll stand by your side
“Until my, until… my… dying… day
I had to give Carter credit. He was a natural behind the camera. I’m not sure that Coop had appreciated it at the time, but judging by the tears in her eyes, I was sure she was having a change of heart. The footage was raw and unfiltered, catching Tate and Cooper’s true love for one another. Honest to God, for every time she caught Carter snapping a picture, there had to be another dozen she missed.
As the video continued, the music quieted to a soft strum. Marshall reached between Coop and I, offering a box of tissues. Choked up, I plucked one from the box and blotted my eyes. Damn if I didn’t ruin my mascara after all.
Chapter 17
The lights dimmed. A quiet hush fell over the crowd. The fans turned and began milling toward the exits to find the bathrooms and refreshment stands. One at a time, the band began to walk off stage. My stomach fluttered nervously as Shane walked toward me. He was sweaty. His shirt clung to him like a second skin. For not the first time tonight, I felt like one of his mindless groupies. I had no shame.
“You were amazing,” I said dumbly.
Shane wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss that left me stunned and needy. When he finally pulled away, he wore a cocky smirk. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” Grasping my hand, he led me toward the dressing rooms. His grip was tight, anticipation bleeding through his façade.
The show was over. I hadn’t forgotten.
The first door Tate passed, he pushed Cooper in, and closed the door behind them. Obviously, we weren’t the only ones with plans. Shane turned down an abandoned hall, where only a few of the crew loitered at the entrance. He seemed to know his way around the place. Heading directly for the third door on the right, he pushed it open and stepped back. I stepped through and panned the room.
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