by B. B. Miller
Nadia’s eyes narrow and she opens her mouth to speak, but Ralph beats her to it. “So, you deny Ms. Baskov’s charges of impropriety and stand by your account of the matter?”
I gaze back steadily into Ralph’s wizened gray eyes. “I do.”
He looks at me solemnly. “Abigail, I think you’d agree that if these allegations were true, it would be a very serious matter for the Board.”
“Yes.”
Ralph looks questioningly around the table at his fellow Board members, who give him slight nods. When he looks back at me, he looks resolved. “It would be a serious matter, indeed, if it were true . . .”
Nadia leans forward slightly in her seat, her eyes gleaming in anticipation as he continues, “But I don’t believe it is.”
Nadia gapes at him, her smugness evaporating. “What?”
“I’m pleased to say that this organization has never been in better shape,” he affirms, smiling warmly at me. “As April says, your work ethic is legendary, as are your professional ethics. I speak for the Board as a whole when I say we see no need to discuss this further.” I let out a breath and return his grin as the rest of the Board members regard us with no little amusement.
“Shall we take a brief break before beginning the main agenda?” April suggests smoothly, paying no attention to Nadia, whose face is turning redder by the second.
“I think that’s a fine idea. Besides, didn’t you tell me you had treats for the meeting, Abigail?” Ralph asks with a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh, yes, I do,” I chirp and reach down for the small gift bag I’d brought in with me. I pull out an assortment of Hob Nobs, shortbread, some yummy little ginger cookies I found at a shop in Piccadilly, and a few other English treats I brought back with me. Then I pull out the last package and set it in front of Ralph with a flourish.
“You remembered!” He picked up the package of three small ceramic crocks bearing the distinctive Fortnum and Mason logo with obvious delight. “Thank you for picking it up for me—I just love this stuff.”
The red in Nadia’s face is slowly turning to white as the rest of the Board members busy themselves with getting coffee and chatting with the staff members who have now joined us. No one is paying her any mind as she sits there, seething. She slowly turns toward me, but before she can say anything, one of our other Board members, a fifty-something CEO of a California insurance company, steps over with an admiring smile.
“Bravo, Abigail,” she comments good-naturedly. “That was a seriously hot kiss. You two look so happy together.” Then she gives me an impish grin and whispers conspiratorially, loud enough for Nadia to hear,
“Now, do you think you could get me an introduction to his drummer?”
That seems to be the final straw for Nadia, who excuses herself quietly and steps out.
After the showdown this morning, everything proceeded as expected, although Nadia never returned. I heard at lunch that she was sulking in her office.
The Board had been suitably impressed with the plans so far for Parker’s concert, as well as the things Kennedy had already done for him and the other patients in his hospital wing. The rest of the reports we presented were equally successful and some good decisions had been made.
Ralph approaches me with a broad smile. “Well done,” he compliments, and I grin in acknowledgement. “Are you ready for stage two?”
“Yes, but are you sure you want to do it this way?” I ask with concern. “It could be much simpler, you know.”
“I’m fully aware that you could handle it yourself and handle it well. But my way neutralizes her and leaves you and the Foundation in the clear. Besides, I’ll be getting something out of it, too, you know, at least for a few months.”
“Okay, okay.” I hold up my hands. “Have it your way. I guess I’d better head back to my office and put on my surprised face.” I pause and look at him sincerely. “Thanks for today, Ralph. I appreciate it.”
He chuckles and nudges my shoulder with his. “No problem.”
I smile fondly at his departing figure. He really is a dear man. We are so lucky to have him on the Board. I gather my materials and my thoughts and head back to my office. Tess is on the phone when I get there, so I simply give her a little salute and head inside. My desk phone rings before I can even sit down, but when I answer, there is only silence for a few beats before the caller hangs up.
“Oh, for the love of . . .” I bang the receiver gently against my forehead in frustration. Not here, too? “Tess,” I call through the open door. “Please tell me you have a name for whoever that was.”
She pops her head in. “I’m sorry, Abby, I didn’t put that one through. Whoever it was must have your direct line.”
Wearily, I wave to her in acknowledgement and frown at the phone as I set the receiver down. I’ve already canceled my home phone and blocked every crank call on my cell, but it would be a major pain to have to change my office number. There are several significant donors who have my number, not to mention all the board members. I wish whoever this was would fuck the hell off.
I don’t have time now to worry about it, though, because Nadia is at the door. “A word, Abby?” she asks in a too-sweet voice, earning her a scowl from Tessa. “In private.” I manage to stifle a sigh.
“All right. Leave the door open, please, Tess.” I remain standing behind my desk, hands gripping the back of my chair, while Nadia sits casually on my sofa.
“You may have won the battle, but you shouldn’t get too comfortable.” She crosses her legs and tosses her fine blond hair over her shoulder.
“What you fail to realize is that there is no battle to be won.” I shake my head in disappointment. “I don’t understand why you’ve gone down this road. We’ve always worked so well together.”
“That was before you started stepping on my turf,” she snipes and my eyes widen.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“You’ve been all over this project from the beginning.” Venom drips from her words. “You insisted on coming to the initial meeting with me, and it just snowballed from there. At least you could have the decency to admit it. You wanted Kennedy for yourself.”
I stare at her, honestly mystified at the change in her. “Nadia, I assure you—”
“Oh, keep your ‘assurances’ to yourself.” She waves one of her finely manicured hands at me. “I don’t give a shit anymore. Whatever you think you have with him isn’t going to last beyond the concert anyway. He must be living out some kind of librarian fantasy or something.”
I can’t help my snort. I don’t know about a library, but there was a mention about laying me out on the boardroom table.
“Okay, let’s finish this. What did you want to say?” I ask, finally out of patience. I’ll go with Ralph’s plan, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit here and listen to whatever crap is going to spill out of her mouth while it plays out.
“Fine. I’m giving my two weeks’ notice.”
I cock an eyebrow at her smug smile. “I’d say I’m disappointed that it’s come to this, but you wouldn’t believe me.”
“You’d be right.” She sniffs disdainfully. “I got a better offer.” I wait but she just sits there, like the cat that got the canary.
“And? Don’t pretend you’re not dying to tell me where you’re going.”
“I’ll be leading the charitable giving department at Ralph’s firm, actually.” I raise my eyebrows, as if I’m impressed. “He needs someone to revamp their efforts, and I’m just the person to do it.”
Sure you are. If only you knew. “I wish you luck,” I say simply. There really isn’t anything more to say.
“Thank you.” She smirks and rises gracefully from the sofa. “Good luck with Parker’s dream. Of course, my team has already worked out the rough bits, so it should be smooth sailing for you now.”
I manage to refrain from making the snarky comment that’s dying to come out as she turns and struts to the door. Just before
she leaves, she tosses one last comment over her shoulder. “Tell Kennedy I’ll give him a call in a few months. Now that he’s willing to do charity work, I’m sure I can offer him something much more interesting.”
I roll my eyes; nothing she says is worth the breath of a reply. Barely five seconds pass before April storms in. “Her team,” she scoffs. “Right, like they’ve done all the work so far.”
“Let it go,” I advise with a shrug. “We both know the truth, as does the Board. My problem now is to decide on her replacement. Any suggestions?”
“Yes, but . . .” She eyes me carefully. “Okay, I know you’ve turned taking the high road into an art form, but why do you not look surprised by any of this?” I simply smirk at her, and then she laughs. “You knew, didn’t you? Did you cook this up with Ralph?”
“No. It was his idea,” I admit. “He suggested ‘hiring her away from us’ to save me from firing her, or having her quit outright. Who knows what havoc she’d wreck if she was running around loose? This way, she can’t try to sue us or me for unlawful termination or gross moral turpitude, or anything else she’d try to pull out of her ass.”
“None of that would stick, of course.” She purses her lips, no doubt thinking about the headlines such a lawsuit would conjure. “It would have been a bitch to deal with when we had Parker’s concert coming up.”
“That was Ralph’s thought as well,” I confirm. “I’m not sure if she read her new employment agreement closely enough, or if she just doesn’t think I know anything about it, but she’s been banned from making any comments or sharing any information about me, Kennedy, or anything having to do with the Foundation without Ralph’s permission.”
“This was all settled before the meeting, wasn’t it? Did all the other Board members know in advance about what she was trying to do this morning?”
“Yep. Ralph had briefed everyone prior to the meeting. He felt that if the Board made a show of listening to her concerns, then that was one less thing she could protest later. She complained, they listened, they didn’t agree, story over. We all move on.”
April chuckles. “She’d be so pissed if she knew he was playing her like that.”
“Which is why it will stay between us and Ralph.” I can’t help my smirk, thinking of Nadia’s haughty last words. She has no idea of the shit-storm Ralph will rain down on her if she steps over the line at his place. “Do you think you can oversee Giving until we replace her?”
“Sure, but I don’t expect any problems. Despite Nadia’s recent insanity, she ran a good department. Her people are solid.”
We chat for a few minutes on a possible replacement for Nadia, then bid each other goodnight. After also sending Tess home, I quickly pull myself together and head outside to grab a cable car. I flip my trench coat collar up to ward off the chilly evening and check my cell phone. There’s nothing from Kennedy since his earlier text saying he was boarding a plane and would be out of reach for a while. I text him anyway, telling him I love him and to let me know when he lands.
I let my thoughts drift during the ride home, and before I know it, I’m approaching my building. All I want to do now is curl up with a nice glass of wine and let Maddie and Dylan distract me over some Thai food.
Thinking back to the asinine things Nadia said during the meeting, I sigh as I make my way to my door and let myself inside. She was fixated solely on his looks and his fame and obviously assumed I was, too. Everything she said demonstrated how little she knows me—and she certainly doesn’t know Kennedy.
Despite the lavish lifestyle his success has afforded him, it isn’t really important to him. Admittedly, having security and a private jet is helpful, but all the rest? The endless parties and promotion, the grueling schedule, and the groupies trailing along like ducklings . . . It all seems more of a burden to him than a boon. He accepts it because it’s what people expect from rock stars, but it’s not who he is. People like Nadia are only interested in the cover—they don’t care about the book.
There are plenty of celebrities who have worked with us simply for the good press. They don’t really care about whatever cause they’re championing. It’s just part of a marketing plan that their agents approved. Some don’t know anything about what they’re doing—they just jump on the bandwagon because it’s the hot cause on Twitter or Instagram.
Then, there are people like Kennedy. Yes, the concert will be huge and visible, and will take social media by storm. But it’s the things he’s done for Parker personally that no one will know about that makes it special. The video chats and new guitar so that they can play together. He wants to use his success to help others, and that’s what sets him—and those like him—apart.
I shake my head as I change into jeans and one of Kennedy’s old Redfall shirts, trying to halt my subconscious rambling. I’m too tired to make much sense right now. And I’m missing Kennedy fiercely. I’ve never felt anything like this; it’s like I’m missing my other half.
Kennedy
“YOU WANT TO talk about it?” Sean asks from across the aisle as we jet from France to Germany. “It’s good to get your feelings out, so my shrink says.” Sean’s admission is greeted with silence as we all soak in his words, exchanging surprised glances.
“You’re seeing a shrink?” Matt asks after a long beat, lifting a brow.
“I am indeed. She’s hotter than hell, too. Got this put-together-hair-in-a-bun-reading-glasses-sexy-as-fuck thing going on.” He waves his hands around in the air as if he could conjure her up right here. “Damn.”
“Of course she does. Couldn’t just pick some boring older guy with a sweater vest, could you?” Cam teases.
“Hey! I’ll have you know I had no prior knowledge of her hotness.”
“And if you had known?” I ask.
“I would have insisted it be her.”
Once our laughter dies down, Matt clears his throat, starting in on the subject we’ve all been avoiding. “What’s the latest on Brodie?”
Tucker shifts uncomfortably in his seat as all eyes turn to him. “He’s in rehab in London.”
“How’s he doing?” I ask. After the incident with Abby, and then seeing him in the hospital, I had wanted nothing more than to wash my hands entirely of Brodie, but I know I can’t. He’s part of our past, part of the reason we are where we are, and despite everything that has happened, I don’t want him to be another statistic. I know he’s on a long road to recovery, but at least he’s on the path, and that gives me some glimmer of hope that maybe he’ll take it all the way to the end.
“It’s hard to tell. I think he’s got a ways to go.” It’s all we’re going to get out of Tucker. I know he’s deliberately being vague in an attempt to shield us all from the reality. If it were up to Tucker, Brodie would have been gone a long time ago. If I had listened to him, maybe—
“I need to tell you guys something,” Cameron says, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. “I saw Brodie in London after you told us what happened with Abby.”
I feel my jaw set. “What?”
“Yeah. We hit it a little too hard. He was blowing off steam, and I guess I was, too.”
“Sean thought you were dead at one point,” Matt fires at him. “Would it have killed you to check in with us?”
“I was too out of it. We were doing a lot . . . smack, blow . . . you name it.” He takes his time glancing at each one of us. “I fucked up. I don’t know what else to say. I should have been with you guys, and I wasn’t.”
“So this was just an experiment? Thought you’d chase the dragon a bit in London, hmm?” Sean glares at him. “See what all the fuss was about?”
“Look who’s talking,” Cameron grinds out.
“Enough.” Tucker’s voice echoes through the cabin, silencing us quickly. “You’re done now, right? No more of that shit. And if you want, I’ve got a few names of places that can help.”
“Sure, thanks, man.” There’s a tension in his words that I want to question, but really, I hav
e no right to. All of us have been there in one way or another. Sometimes it’s destructive and antagonistic, but there’s been one truth to us that I don’t think can be said for a lot of other bands out there. We battle through, and break free to the other side, a little battered, but a lot stronger than we were before.
There’s a firm shove from Matt to Cam’s shoulder, and then they settle into their seats, locking down in their own thoughts. An uneasy peace has been restored once more.
Death is inevitable. It’s the one thing we all know is going to happen. So why does it come as a shock?
We’re sitting backstage, utterly stunned as twenty thousand people chant, scream, and beg for us. The Lanxess Arena in Cologne is alive and buzzing, pulsing with a heartbeat all its own even as another has been extinguished.
The letter we received from Brodie came an hour ago. It was short and to the point. Much like the person who wrote it.
Guys-
Light it up. I know you can, and you always will.
I can’t do this anymore. It’s all on me. You always wanted more, but I’m not cut out for this. I’ve only got one thing left—sorry.
—Brodie
We shouldn’t be shocked, but we are. Despite the writing on the wall we all saw in bright, bold, flashing neon colors, utter shock is the state we’re in.
A sharp knock breaks the tense silence in the room, and I look up to see Tucker open the door a crack before letting Dawson in.
The roar of the crowd in the arena increases as the man, the legend fills the room with his presence. His battered leather jacket is back in place, his silver hair a little wilder than we’ve seen it, his expression the same as it always has been—stern, confident, never wavering.
“I know what this feels like,” Dawson starts. “I’ve been there. More than once.” He levels us each a knowing look. “But you’ve got a job to do, and from what I know of Brodie, he would have wanted you to do it. Hell, he would have kicked your ass if you didn’t.” His gaze lingers on me. “Be out there in ten.”