by Elle Casey
TARIN COMES SAUNTERING DOWN THE dock wearing board shorts, boat shoes, a white surfer t-shirt, aviator sunglasses, and a blond on each arm. One of them is the ding-a-ling I saw outside Mel’s office falling out of Tarin’s car. Jelly is her name if memory serves. That kind of name is hard to forget.
She looks much better today than she did in her mug shot. It’s amazing what makeup and a hairbrush can do for a girl. I try not to dislike her on sight. It’s not her fault she’s a groupie. Like so many other girls before her, she’s caught up in the image and the music. I’m willing to bet she really has no idea what it’s like to live with and love an artist. She’s living in a fantasy world right now, and I can hardly blame her for holding on with both hands.
Tarin’s swagger is perfect, no drunken swaying or stumbling to mar the effect. He walks like he has a golden prick between his legs and he wants all the women of the world to know it. I force myself to think of other things as the giggles from the girls carry over to us on the ocean breeze. Memories of him in the restaurant with his cocky casualness overlaying a crazy intensity make me go uncomfortably warm.
“We’re not letting those women on, are we?” Mel asks quietly as we watch them approach. He shifts from one foot to the next, nervous about our plan for Tarin. It’s strange to see such a powerful man so worried about a simple thing like taking on a rock star. It makes me just a little nervous too, which pisses me off. I cannot afford to be nervous right now. I conjure up an image of Austin, wasted on the couch, to solidify my resolve. I have lots of those memories to prop me up when necessary.
“No, they are definitely not coming,” I say. “You take Tarin into the salon and I’ll escort them off the boat. He’ll never know they’re not with us until we’re gone. Make sure you put some music on kind of loud in case they yell.”
“He’s going to be angry.”
“Good.”
My goal is not to avoid emotional outbursts, believe it or not. Tarin has a lot of things going on that are torturing him; the sooner I can get him to exorcise those ghosts, the better off we’ll all be. Guys like him do it though music and sometimes yelling if the mood is right. If he yells at me and Mel today, I’ll consider that a win.
“Well, well…if it isn’t little miss uptight,” says Tarin, sneering at me as he lifts his glasses and leaves them on the top of his head. They settle into the messy, spiked hair. He looks like a cover model advertising cologne for bad boys, his arm tattoos and dark beard stubble standing out in stark contrast to his white shirt and pale skin. He’s thin … too thin, and it makes his shorts slip down too far. Without the shirt on, I’m sure I’d be seeing way too much. I’m glad for the shirt. I don’t need any more distractions than he already offers.
“Tarin … manners,” chides Mel.
“Yeah, whatever.” He turns to the girl on his left, the one from the car. “Why don’t you go find the bedroom, love.”
“What about me?” asks the one on the right, pouting.
“You find the bar and mix me a drink. Then come join us.” He smacks her on the butt and she practically coos.
Working really hard not to smack her myself for being so stupid, I put on my cruise director smile. “Actually, if you two could just come up to the front of the boat for a couple minutes, the captain wants to be sure you know where the lifejackets and things are.”
“What’s that all about?” Tarin is suspicious.
I shrug. “It’s not my boat. I don’t make the rules, the captain does.” I turn around and wave at the man in uniform who’s standing up in the glassed-off command center, and he waves back. Then he points to bow of the yacht, just like we planned. He’s good at looking stern.
“Fine,” says Tarin, his mood only slightly deflated. “Go do your little life jacket thing and then get to the fun stuff. Drinks and bedroom.” He looks at Mel. “Lead the way, Mel. You have ten minutes before I get my drink on.”
Tarin takes a big step from the dock to the boat, and I make sure to get far enough back so he can go by me without stomping on my toes. He gets close enough to brush up against me anyway, and I can smell his scent as he goes by. It stirs my blood enough to throw me off a little. He chuckles, and I know that he’s done it on purpose. He’s trying to intimidate me with his male-ness, but I won’t fall for it. I never do. Guys like him bag girls just because they can, not because they care. I won’t ever be one of those girls.
The men leave me standing with the girls who are still on the dock, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Little things first. These chicks, I can handle. Tarin’s two bodyguards come out of the door behind me and stand there. I can’t see them but I can sense their hulking forms.
“Change of plans, girls,” I say, once I’m sure Mel has Tarin inside. “You won’t be going on the cruise today.”
The girl assigned to get the drinks looks confused. The one assigned to be head prostitute narrows her eyes at me. “Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Who are you, his wife?” She’s pissed.
The other girl snorts, but then stops abruptly at a glare from me.
I turn my attention back to my interrogator. “No, Jelly, I’m not his wife. I’m worse than a wife. But don’t worry … he’ll be back in a few hours. You’ll be able to hook up with him then. Feel free to wait right here on the dock if you want.”
“Bullshit. I’m coming on board.” Jelly takes a step forward and the other girl looks ready to follow her.
“Don’t even think about it, Jelly,” says Zach, the bodyguard on my left.
“Shut up, whoever you are. You don’t tell me or Tarin who goes on a boat with him.” She’s not just pissed, she’s furious. Her nostrils are flaring and her hands are in fists. Her fake boobs are bouncing around as she flexes her chest muscles.
I look up at Zach and am impressed with his complete lack of expression. He’s a total badass, immune to her anger and her plastic beauty.
Jelly hesitates just a moment before moving forward again.
I step out of the way so Zach can get by. He blocks her entry by standing in the way.
“Move!” she says loudly, leaning over from the dock and pushing on him. It’s about as effective as trying to move a brick wall.
I turn around and signal again to the captain. He puts his hand on his cap and jerks it down at me once, signaling he understands. Then the horn sounds loudly and the engines rev, churning up the water behind the fifty-foot yacht.
A small, skinny guy dressed all in white walks quickly to the front of the boat and unties a rope from the dock, making quick work of coiling it and stowing it in a cabinet. He moves down the side of the boat and passes behind me to do the same with a rope at the back of the boat. He whistles loudly when it’s done, and the boat begins to drift away from the dock under the power of the engines and the slight current in the marina.
“Hey! You can’t leave without me!” shouts Jelly.
Zach is standing just at the edge of the boat, keeping her from jumping on. She tries to sidestep around his barrier, her obvious plan to leap to the space next to him, but he easily moves over to block her once more.
“Move, you big ogre!”
“Just go give it a rest, Jelly,” he says. “You can catch Tarin later.”
“I don’t want to catch him later! I want to catch him now! You have no right to keep us apart!” She turns her attention to the back of the boat, the last place she saw Tarin before he disappeared. “Tarin!! Tarin, they’re not letting us on!”
The other girl joins in and they’re both screaming by the time the boat is ten feet from the dock. There’s no more danger of them jumping on board, so Zach backs up to stand with his partner behind me.
“Taaaarinnnnn!!” They’re both beet-red in the face with their screaming, and they look ready to tear someone’s hair out. I’m glad I’m too far for them to reach, because the murderous expressions they’re sending my way are making it clear it’s my hair that would be their target.
�
�You are going to be so sorry!” Jelly yells at me. “Don’t think for one second you’re going to steal him away from me!”
“I’m not interested in your man, Jelly, don’t worry. We’ll deliver him back to you in one piece by the end of the day. Why don’t you go get a manicure or something?”
“Why don’t you go get a manicure you plain-as-shit bitch!” she screeches, stomping her foot with her fists at her sides.
I smile and turn my plain-as-shit self around, leaving the vultures on the docks. The last thing I hear are threats to call the police for the kidnapping of boyfriends. I’m not worried, because we’ll be in international waters in about fifteen minutes and that’s when the fun will begin.
Now that everything is well underway here, I have to call Scott and let him know to set up the meeting with the crew and others for later. While I’m on the phone, I remind him to add Jelly and her friend to the list of attendees and tell him he can call the dockmaster right now so he can speak with Jelly directly before she gives up and leaves. I wait until we’re far from shore before going to join Mel and Tarin in the salon.
Chapter Eight
I WALK INTO THE SALON and find Mel and Tarin alone. Zach and Leonard, the bodyguards, are out of sight, but I know they’re somewhere close. They promised to be there in case things get out of hand, and I trust that they’ll follow through.
“Hello,” I say, shutting the sliding glass door behind me. “How’s it going in here?” I ask. I walk over and put a glass of orange juice down in front of Tarin before taking a seat across from him. Mel and I are in single armchairs on the opposite side of a low coffee table from Tarin who’s sprawled out on a couch, one of his legs dangling off and the other propped up at the end.
“What’s that? A screwdriver?” he asks, looking at the drink while reaching for it.
“Yep. Virgin screwdriver.”
He snorts, and pulls his hand away. “Bring me a couple shots of vodka.”
“No.” I stare at him mildly, not trying to get him worked up, but letting him know I’m not his servant. “We have a meeting to take care of before you start having anything to drink or smoke.”
He gives me a lazy smile and then sighs happily as he turns his head to look at the ceiling. “Wake me up when you’re done with your meeting. I need to go get laid.” His smile remains as he begins to fake-sleep.
Mel glances at me, but I shake my head briefly, telling him to let me handle it. He gets up and stands behind his chair, watching me nervously.
“Tarin, this meeting is between you and me, so I’d appreciate it if you could give me your attention.”
“I didn’t call any meeting.” His eyes are still closed.
“I did.”
“And that might matter if I even knew who you are, which I don’t. You aren’t my agent, you aren’t in the band, and you aren’t from the label, so unless you’re here to put out, I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
Since he’s determined to be crude, I decide to skip the niceties and just go for the throat. I have to snag his attention before he actually falls asleep. “I work for the label and your agent, so I called this meeting, and I expect you to pay attention. As of today, your life is going to change. The game is over. No more bullshit. It’s done.”
He lounges there silently, not saying anything. But his smile has slipped a little, so I know he’s hearing me.
“The drugs are gone. The booze is gone. Cigarettes are gone. You’re on a new exercise regimen that starts this afternoon. Consider yourself in active outpatient rehab.”
He opens his eyes and looks at Mel, scowling. “Who is this crazy bitch and why’d you let her on your boat? Is this some kind of joke?”
Mel shakes his head sadly. “This is no joke, Tarin. This is the rest of your life. I suggest you sit up and start acting like the man you really are and stop making this so difficult on yourself and everyone else.”
Tarin sits up quickly, his anger clear in his tone. “Fuck that, Mel! What the hell? What’d I do to you anyway, other than make you a shit ton of money, huh?”
“It’s not about the money, Tarin. It’s about you, as a person. I’m worried about you.”
Tarin stands, the muscles in his chest pulsing through his t-shirt. “Bullshit! All any of you care about is the money. Are you worried I won’t show up for the tour? Is that it? I told you I’d go, all right?! I told you I just needed to let off a little steam first. Jesus, why is everyone always up my fucking ass?” He runs his fingers through his hair, knocking his sunglasses off. They bounce off the couch and land on the floor.
Mel looks at me, disappointment shining out from sad eyes. “I need to let you do this without me. I’m liable to ruin everything with what I want to say right now.”
I shake my head, hardening myself to his distress. “No. Tell him what you’re thinking. He needs to hear it.”
“Oh, what … you’re going to blame me for some bullshit right now, is that it? Well, fuck you, Mel, okay? Fuck you.” Tarin moves around the coffee table towards the door leading out to the back deck of the boat.
Zach appears in the entrance and shakes his head no. Crossing his arms, he makes it clear he’s not going anywhere. Tarin will have to pass through that mountain to get to his destination.
Tarin throws the sliding glass door open. “Get the hell out of my way, Z.”
“Sorry, man. Can’t do it. Just give the girl a chance to talk to you.”
Tarin shoves him with both hands in the chest, but Zach barely moves.
“Get the fuck outta my way!” Tarin yells in his face, his entire body tense.
“Don’t touch me like that, man,” says Zach. He sounds sad.
Tarin growls and turns around, rage in his eyes. “Mel! Tell that bitch to get off your boat or I’m outta here!”
Mel gestures out the windows to the deep blue ocean that surrounds us. “Where are you going to go, Tarin? We’re at sea.” He pauses for the reality to sink in before continuing. “Why don’t you just sit down here and listen to what she has to say? You need to hear it, and when it’s over, it’s over. Like a bandaid. Rip it off. Get it over with.”
Mel walks closer to Tarin, holding out a hand in my direction. “Go sit. Relax. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Tarin shifts to the side and watches Zach let Mel by. As the door slides shut he turns his ire on me.
“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’re going down for this.” He pulls out his cell phone and presses some buttons. “I’m calling my attorney. He’ll file the lawsuit before we even get back. Kidnapping and … fuck. Other shit. I don’t know what but it’s gonna put your sorry ass in jail.”
He puts the phone to his ear and then frowns. Pulling the phone away, he stares at the screen. “Fuck. No signal.” He points the phone at me. “I’m calling when I get back. You’re fucking going down.”
I walk back to my chair and sit. “Come talk to me. We’ll discuss the upcoming lawsuit later.”
He turns his back to me and stares out at the water. “Tell them to let Jelly in and I’ll talk.”
“Jelly’s not here.”
“Yeah, I know. She’s in the bedroom waiting for me. Bring her here and I’ll talk.”
“No, I mean she’s not on the boat. She’s still on the dock.”
He spins around and looks at me like I’m crazy. “What?”
“She wasn’t invited. She’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”
He slowly shakes his head at me, biting his lower lip as he walks over. It’s impressive how he goes from flaming pissed to deviously angry. “You are something else, you know that?” He walks around my chair until he’s in front of the couch. Dropping down to sit on the edge of the cushions, he points a finger at me. “I don’t know how you managed to brainwash Mel and Zach, but you’re not going to get away with that shit. There’s laws against taking people against their will.”
I nod. “Hopefully once you hear me out, you’ll decide not to sue.”
He leans back, lacing his hands behind his head and letting his legs drop to the sides. I have a straight-on view of his crotch, and I’m glad his board shorts are so long that they cover up things that would normally be revealed in this kind of pose. He pulses his pelvis up once, either to get comfortable or to make me nervous. I suspect the latter when I see him give me a lascivious smirk right after.
I yank my attention back to why I’m here, hoping he doesn’t notice my ears going red. “Thank you, Tarin. Really, I appreciate you giving me a chance to explain.”
He says nothing. He just stares me down, trying to intimidate me or too busy keeping a rein on his anger to respond, it’s hard to tell which.
“I’ve been hired by Mel and your label to help you get your life back under control.”
His nostrils flare but that’s the only sign I have that he’s heard me. It’s like he’s attempting to stare holes into my face the way his gaze never falters and his expression stays so serious. I wonder when I’m almost under his thrall like this why no one calls him Terror instead of Tear-it-up. It seems a more appropriate nickname. I’m not afraid of him; I’m more afraid of what he could make me do than anything. I have a feeling he can be very convincing when he wants to be. It’s probably what’s gotten him in all this trouble in the first place. I can picture him being hard to say no to.
“I’ve worked with several other artists in the same situation you’re in right now. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve lost your way. I’ve talked to Ricky and Zach and Leonard along with your bandmates, and they all tell me the same things.”
Tarin shifts in his seat, but otherwise gives me no indication of what he’s thinking.
“You’re incredibly talented and a nice person. You like to play practical jokes, you’ll give a friend the shirt off your back, you loan money you never expect to get back. You’re generous and fun loving and you used to be happy-go-lucky.”
As I shift gears, I can see it’s having an effect on him. He drops his arms to his sides, still staring at me. I continue. “But now you’re angry a lot. You’re taking drugs that you know aren’t good for you or your music. You’re hanging out with users, people who don’t care about you. You’re not healthy. You blew off your grandfather’s birthday last month, and you didn’t even visit Dave in the hospital after he overdosed. And you were there when it happened. You didn’t stop him when you could have.”