by Lelly Hughes
I close my eyes and continue to cry while my brother holds me. In the blink of an eye, everything that I knew my life to be has been nothing but a lie. I devoted my life to that man since I was seventeen and this is how he shows me what I mean to him, by destroying my trust in him.
I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do now. How do I proceed knowing I can’t trust my publicist? Her betrayal is just as bad as Van’s. We pay her to work for us and if she’s sleeping with Van that makes her a whore.
It all makes sense now, her pushing me to just brush this all under the rug. If Van isn’t married the likelihood that they continue their affair is out the window. That’s my logic at least. If he were single, why would he choose to be with someone like her? He wouldn’t. He’ll have so many women falling at his feet that Laura and her assistant will be nothing but a blip on his radar.
I’m tempted to tell Darian about Laura, but hold back. I need to tell the group as a whole and save myself from having to repeat the same story over and over. Darian lets me go, but keeps his hands on my shoulders.
“What do you need, Z?”
“Food and for Rusty and Gabe to come over. We need to have a meeting.”
He nods. “I’m on it.”
I head back upstairs and look through my blinds again. Not only has the media sustained its presence outside my home, but also it seems that fans are starting to gather. Unfortunately, a press release is going to have to be issued, or I can let the speculation grow. It won’t take long to confirm what they already know especially once I file divorce papers.
Speaking of divorce, if I wasn’t certain before, I am now. One incident I might be able to forgive, but not two and not one with a woman that works for us. With one last look outside I head back downstairs to find Darian sitting at the island and chatting on his phone. He smiles at me as I pass by and pull out the drawer where I thought I could keep my phone hidden. Powering it back on, I scroll through the contacts until I find the one for my agent and press his number.
“TMZ says that you and Van have separated?”
“Doesn’t anyone say hello anymore?” I ask Ryan Greene, the man who secured our first record deal.
“Hello, Zara. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I need a lawyer. The best.”
“So the rumors are true?” he asks.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but if it’s that my husband can’t keep it in his pants, then yes.”
“Shit,” he mutters.
“Yeah.”
“Hang tight, and I’ll send one to your house.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier if I go there?” I ask.
“It would be, or you can have her come to you. This would save you from having to make a public statement later. I’m going to send the best celebrity divorce attorney. This will be easy.”
But not painless. “Send her,” I say before hanging up. At this point, I don’t even care about the damage done to Van’s reputation because he clearly didn’t care about any of my feelings when he was sticking his dick in whatever pussy he could find. If he didn’t have any respect for me, why should I for him?
Chapter 6
Levi
Never in my life have I been the guy that stands against the wall and watches everyone. It’s never been in my personality to sit back and observe. Front and center is how I like things, except that isn’t who I am now.
At this moment, I’m observing. I’m paying attention to the way my former in-laws dote on Willow. I can’t remember the last time the McCalls came around. It was probably right about the time I won my first Grammy, long after they wrote Iris off as a teenage mother.
When we—you bet I went with her—told her parents that she was pregnant I expected them to be pissed. Hell, my parents were livid but told me to man up and make sure Iris and our unborn baby were taken care of. What I didn’t count on was her parents kicking her out of the house. They didn’t even give her a chance to pack before her daddy’s boot went right up her ass as she walked out of their house. I caught her before she could hit the ground and took her promptly home. My parents opened their door wide for Iris and never cast any judgment on her for being pregnant or on me for knocking her up.
Yet, her parents are in mourning, and they’re making sure every single person around them knows that they’ve lost their daughter. The very same one they hadn’t spoken to unless it was to borrow money, since she was eighteen.
I hadn’t wanted to tell them, but my moral compass forced me to make the call that I dreaded more than anything. On the phone, they acted like they had no idea who I was, but once they arrived in Los Angeles, they expected the star treatment, demanding that a limo picks them up and that they stay in the best six, not five, star hotel money could buy. Too bad they don’t have any money, and I knew this would fall onto me. I was tempted to be a dick, but Barbara told me to suck it up for three days, and once the funeral and reception were over, the Austins could go back to pretending the McCalls never existed. Easier said than done. They wasted no time filling Willow’s head with lies about how it was because of my fame that they’ve been kept apart.
My parents are across the room from them, and every so often I can see my mother throwing daggers at my ex-mother-in-law. The whole situation is comical since my mother is the nicest person you will ever meet. She even smiles when people tell her they don’t like a new song of mine.
Barbara nudges me and hands me a fresh bottle of water. I want something harder, but not in front of my girls and definitely not in front of the in-laws. The last thing I need is for them to get any notion that I’m not a fit parent. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been absent since before Stormy was born; they wouldn’t hesitate to take me court for custody.
“It was a beautiful service,” Barbara says.
“It was. Stormy spoke very well in front of everyone.”
My eyes catch Stormy as she carries a tray of food over to my parents. Even though we have caterers here to do that, she’s been trying to keep busy. Anything she can do to stay away from the McCalls without coming off rude.
“Stormy and I had a long talk this morning while she was getting ready.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, lifting the plastic bottle to my lips, wishing it were anything else but water.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do, Levi? With the girls?”
“What do you mean?” I turn and look at her. She looks like she has the weight of the world weighing on her shoulders right now.
Barbara sighs and offers me a sweet smile. “Stormy has been trying to make a name for herself here with her dancing, and she has a couple of auditions coming up that she doesn’t want to pass up. If you take the girls back to Nashville…” She doesn’t need to finish her sentence for me to understand what she’s saying.
I raise the bottle once more to quench my thirst. It’s not nearly as strong as I need it to be to numb out everything that I’m feeling right now. Returning to Nashville is high on my priority list. It’s important to me, but may not be to my girls. The natural course of life has them dropping everything for me since I’m their sole provider, but Barbara is right about Stormy and the life she has been building. It was Iris who enticed her to come here for a career, and I can’t take that away from her.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she says.
“Doubt it,” I reply as casually as possible. Nashville is my home. It’s where I’m comfortable, although it has been nice to be here and not have the paparazzi hounding me. For the most part, they don’t have any idea who I am. My music and the LA music scene don’t exactly mix. There have been a few times that we’ve attempted to have a concert here, but the ticket sales were so measly that the promoter pulled the plug and sent me outside the city to perform.
We thought for sure the media would hound the shit out of us once Iris’s death was made public and prepared for it. I had nightmares of what the headline would be, but some potential divorce was overshadowing th
e untimely death of my former spouse. Truthfully, I was okay with that. The less exposure for the girls, the better I felt.
That’s not to say there haven’t been an article or two or the occasional photographer hanging around. The last time I looked outside one was talking to the security guard that we have stationed out front. That wasn’t my idea, but Barbara’s. She wanted to be prepared for whatever the media threw at us.
“I know you don’t want to stay here, Levi.”
“Our home is in Nashville.”
“And their home is here. You need to think about what’s best for them.”
Barbara leaves me with those parting words and heads over to my parents, no doubt telling them about our little conversation. Barbara and my mother are like best friends and often gang up on me. It’s horrible, but thankfully my father is usually in my corner, except I don’t know if he would be in this situation.
I don’t know if I’d be able to survive here, especially in this house. There is too much Iris everywhere I look. This was her town, her dreams that had nothing to do with me. Unfortunately, her dreams webbed right into our girls, and now I’m faced with being the bad guy by wanting to take it all away from them and head back to Tennessee. It’s the smart thing to do, get them acclimated back where we are going to live.
When Stormy disappears down the hall, I use this to my advantage. It’s clear that she’s been more open with Barbara than she has me and if something is going on or bothering her we need to discuss it.
I knock softly on her door before turning the knob. Stormy is sitting on her bed with tears in her eyes. My feet move swiftly until I’m sitting beside her and her head in nestled into the crook of my neck. Her arms are instantly wrapped around me. I can’t imagine what she’s feeling right now.
“It’s going to be okay, Stormy.”
She shakes her head. I get that she doesn’t think so, but she has to know that I’m going to do everything I can to make things better for her and her sister. I can’t bring their mama back, but I can make sure that they know how much I love them.
“I’m so mad at her,” Stormy mumbles into my shoulder.
I start to open my mouth to tell her that I am too, but I think better of it. I’m mad at her for entirely different reasons than Stormy is. I’ve been angry with Iris for years because of her selfishness, but I would never wish this upon her.
“I am so sorry, baby girl.”
“Why did she have to get into that car?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself the same question since…” I don’t want to say since I had to identify her mother’s body, so I trail off and hug her tighter and let her cry. Both Stormy and Willow will have questions about their mother’s death that I won’t be able to answer. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to figure the way Iris’s mind works.
“She always messes everything up.”
Hearing Stormy say that about her mother really makes me pause. Did I make the wrong decision when I let the girls move here to live with her? I thought I was making the right choice for Stormy so she could follow her dream, but there’s a lingering thought in the back of my mind that is telling me I made the worst mistake possible. Maybe I should’ve put my foot down when Iris started hinting that Stormy should move to California. Second-guessing isn’t going to get me anywhere, though.
“We need to talk about what we’re going to do. You, Willow, and me.”
“About where we’re going to live?” she asks.
“Yeah. I know you have things going on here, but our home is in Nashville.”
“I know, but--”
I pull away so I can look my daughter in the eyes. She needs to see that I’m sincere with what I’m about to say. “No buts, Stormy. Our home is in Nashville, but we’ll stay in L.A. until you finish the school year. Barb told me that you have some auditions coming up and either I’ll go with you, Memaw will, or Barb. But once school is over we go back to Nashville. I know you want to dance. There are schools there that are just as good, and if not, I’ll hire someone to teach you.”
Stormy doesn’t say anything. She nods and wipes away her tears. Again, I find myself internally asking why Iris got into that car the other night. If she had just taken a taxi home, I wouldn’t have a disappointed daughter sitting next to me, or a house full of people pretending to mourn someone they really didn’t know. It doesn’t matter how many times I ask the same question; the answer will always be out of reach. No one will ever know what was going on with Iris when she got into that car.
“When are Pawpaw and Memaw going home?”
“Pawpaw is heading back at the end of the week so he can take care of the ranch. Memaw is staying until we kick her out.”
“And the other ones?” There is no mistaking the tone of her voice or the look on her face. She doesn’t care for her other grandparents, not that I could ever blame her or tell her to feel otherwise. It’s not like they know who the girls are, other than what they’ve gotten off my website. Unless Iris was in touch with them recently, but even if she were, I think she would’ve told me. We may have been divorced, but that didn’t mean we didn’t talk. Plus, she was still close with my mother, and I can’t fathom that Iris would make an effort with her own mama.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and sigh. “Their hotel stay ends tomorrow. After that, I want to act like I don’t know what they’re going to do, but the truth is, I’m scared of not knowing where they are.” The McCalls scare me. It’s always about money with them, and I have a feeling they’re going to do anything they can to exploit the passing of Levi Austin’s ex-wife.
Chapter 7
Zara
You’re only allowed to hide out in your house for so long before you have to at least open the garage door and drive your black Range Rover with tinted windows out onto the streets of Beverly Hills. Of course, once you accomplish that, it’s a mad dash by all the paparazzi to chase after you in hopes of getting that elusive picture because for the last month you’ve stayed in your house with your blinds closed.
That’s me in a nutshell. For the most part, I felt like I was on house arrest, but the truth is I couldn’t face the public. Not that thirty days behind closed doors is going to make a difference in the matter, not when Van has been seen out and about with his rumored girlfriend according to TMZ. When I see segments like that, it makes everything ten times worse. I don’t know why I expected him to wait until the ink was dry on our divorce papers since he had been cheating on me. Clearly, that was a sign that he had moved on from our relationship. I guess I thought he’d offer me that courtesy. I was wrong.
Our divorce is moving along swimmingly or as smoothly as humanly possible. Ryan, my agent, kept good on his promise to send the best divorce lawyer he knew. To say that Brenda Guinn is a shark would be an understatement. I swear she eats men for breakfast. After our initial meeting, she had papers drawn up and served to Van the next day. He called, and I ignored him. There wasn’t anything that he could say that would change my mind.
The only problem that remained was the band. After a long conversation with Darian, Rusty, and Gabe, we decided that Van would stay in the band to finish out the album. I’d play nice as long as Van kept his space. We’d finish out the tour, complete our obligatory commitments and go from there. The guys weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea of replacing Van, and honestly neither am I, but I don’t know if I can work with him.
Which leads me to where I am now, behind the wheel of my car and backing out of my driveway, not paying attention to who is in my way. I figure if I hit them, they deserve it for not moving out of the way.
Today, we’re filming the music video for our recent release. I’m not over the moon excited about having to spend the day with Van, but the guys have promised they’ll run interference. Of course, I have a tremendous amount of anxiety right now, and driving is probably the last thing I should be doing. The idea of seeing Van… it does things to me. While my heart aches fr
om missing him and breaks from the damage he’s done, my brain is telling me that he’s a piece of shit and that I need to kick him hard where his family jewels are. That’s what I should’ve done when I caught him in the act instead of standing there and watching. It took forever for me to process what I was seeing and by the time I did he was scowling at me.
The thought of seeing him today has me torn. I can’t shut the love I feel for him off like a light switch even though that is what he’s done. I mean, you don’t cheat on the ones you love so clearly he’s no longer in love with me, but failed to give me the memo, despite what his numerous voicemails say.
I’m followed steadily by the paparazzi who were able to hop in their cars and not lose me in traffic. Fortunately for me, they can’t see through my tinted windows. Unfortunately, though, a few have decided to get in front of me so they can get a picture of me driving. You know, because that will sell so well. I don’t even want to know what sort of bogus headline they’ll come up with to try and sell copies. For the most part, each time Van and I have been in the media it’s been for what I’d consider fun stuff. Pictures of us shopping, looking at puppies or on vacation would appear, but never anything that led to a controversy. Now we’re front and center, and our lives are being played out in the media like a real-life soap opera.
With my current dilemma, the only saving grace is that our video shoot is being done in a production lot, which means security. I sigh heavily as I signal to turn in knowing full well the cars in front and behind me can’t follow me in.
“Good morning,” the security guard says.
“Hi. I’m Zara Phillips,” I tell him, handing him my driver's license. “We’re shooting on stage twelve today.”