Belinda’s smile widened. “So sorry to barge in, but there’s a matter I need to discuss with my—sorry, I mean, your—husband.”
She gave Lil a dismissive look, then turned her gaze to Jon. “You’re looking upset. Have I disturbed you? Or is there trouble in paradise?”
“The terms of our bargain were clear, Belinda. Sixty days at the—”
“Our bargain…” Belinda mused, squinting at the ceiling. She tapped a long glittery pink fingernail on her chin. “Is this the one where you virtually imprison me for eight months and then give me back my children. Is that the one we’re discussing?”
She paused and drew a cigarette out of the pink clutch purse that dangled from her shoulder. Out came a silly holder. Smoking didn’t quite fit her image, so she’d always been careful not to do it in public. At home, though, she’d been a chimney. She pinched the holder between her lips, and Neil hurried over with a lighter. She blew out a thin stream of smoke.
Tired of the drama-queen stuff, he snorted. “How’d you get out, Belinda? How’d you get here?” He lobbed a hard look at Neil. “You have it so bad you’ll break the rules and risk your job?”
Neil spread his hands. “She’s allowed outings, you know.”
Belinda took a slow tour of the room, flicking her ashes on the floor, skimming her nails over the top of the keyboards. It was her Bette Davis performance. She paused and rolled her eyes at Neil. “Just ignore him, sweet thing. Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Discussing our agreement. I just wasn’t sure if you referred to the one we signed—or the secret one where you take my babies from me.”
He started. How much did she know, and how much was guesswork?
Belinda dropped the pose and whirled. “You know what, Jon? Screw our agreement. In fact, screw you.” This was more like the Belinda he knew. “Where are my babies anyway?”
Lil winced and darted a concerned look up the stairs. He followed her gaze. Rounded eyes framed by the bars on the railing, Mel and Michael squatted side by side on the traverse.
“They’re with Zeke.” Nearly knocking the butt from its holder, he grabbed Belinda’s elbow and steered her to the windows. Outside, the breeze whipped the water into razor-edged whitecaps.
He twisted her around. Lil slipped up the stairs, and he waited to speak until he heard the click of closing doors. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. What secret agreement?”
She yanked her arm out of his grasp. Ashes settled on his shirt. “I’m not an idiot. You can’t fool me into believing this fairy-tale marriage is more than a sham. Weeping Beauty…” She snorted. “When I read that, I thought I’d puke. And now that I’ve seen her, gimme a break. Little Miss Smells-Like-A-Rose just isn’t your style.”
He brushed at his shirt, trying to hide his relief. Pure, grade-A guesswork.
Belinda’s face mottled, but she managed to hold her temper. She tapped his arm and considered him. “So, why, I asked myself, would he saddle himself with someone like that, especially since he’s vowed never to marry again? And, you know what, you don’t have to be Einstein to figure it out. Pack Belinda off for eight months, play Mr. Homemaker complete with a Barbie-doll bride and then— Then, present the happy family in front of the judge and, voilá!” She dropped her cigarette on the slate, ground it out, then slid the holder back in her purse. “No more child support.”
He crossed his arms. “Right. That’s what I’m all about. Money.”
“Aren’t you? Ever since we were kids, money’s made you high. ‘Gonna make me enough to buy a palace, Belinda. Gonna make so much they’ll put my name right up there with Donald Trump.’ Isn’t that what you said? And, God knows, you devoted every goddamn second to it. Always did and always will.”
Actually, if he remembered right, he thought she’d made those comments. Belinda was good at selective memory and rewriting history. She clasped both hands over his arms and gazed up at him, widening those big-as-shit brown eyes and squeezing out a tear. His guilt tapped him on the shoulder, but he kept his face impassive.
“You were never home when I needed you. Never home when I was lonely, when I cried myself to sleep. Never home when the children were babies. Is it any wonder I looked around for a little love, a little attention? All I ever wanted was you, Jon. Just you. But you ran away from me. Please… Don’t take my children away from me, too.”
He stirred, uncomfortable. Her words echoed Lil’s. The children need love. They need attention. They need you.
Looking down into Belinda’s soulful eyes, he almost believed her. Almost believed that if he’d given her more of himself, been capable of loving her they way he should have, they’d be one, big, happy family. Almost. But the memory of Mel’s fear froze the slight thaw in his heart. “You’re the one who’s all about money.”
With a nasty squeeze, she released his arm. “So what if I am? All I asked was a little compensation for all you put me through, all those lonely nights, all the—”
“Can it, Belinda.” He rubbed the spot where her nails had pinched. “You already got more than your share. Your little act might play for the press, but I’m not buying it.”
“You can’t just cut me off. I need—”
“And Judge Dougherty won’t buy it either. Especially when he finds out how you’ve treated the kids.” He hadn’t meant to say anything, but he couldn’t keep quiet.
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of crap have they been feeding you? I discipline them, sure. A spank now and then, but I don’t do anything they don’t deserve.”
“And pigs fly.”
She looked unconcerned. She dipped into her purse, surfaced with a hammered silver compact and flipped it open, smiling at her image. “And if anyone says different, my mom will back me up. Believe me, she will.”
So, she had bullied Dodo. He itched to slap her pink mouth but settled for clenching his fists. A poor substitute. “And your addictions? The car wreck, the busts, the trips to rehab? How’s Dodo going to explain those away?”
“She won’t need to.” She looked up, and the eyes went round again. “Didn’t anyone tell you? I’m cured. Or at least that’s what my counselor will say. Won’t he, Neil?” She batted her eyes at Neil and the sucker nearly drooled. Then she looked back at Jon and snapped the compact shut. “Oh, I’ll do my time. Another thirty days of treatment, six months of peeing in a cup whenever I’m asked. I’ll follow our signed agreement—a nice, little, legally tight document—to the letter and I’ll be so clean I’ll squeak when I walk. And…” She paused. “All the while, I’ll watch you, Jon.”
He snorted, and she sharpened her eyes on him. “Don’t believe me? Well, I had an interesting conversation today with a certain photographer. Better than a private dick, you know, they can be so resourceful. And this one’s on my payroll. Seems he’s detected a certain, shall we say, lack of romance between you and your new bride. Also appears the girl-next-door put our children in danger yesterday.”
He groaned. If even half of what Lil had told him about the day was true, Belinda would soon have the pictures to prove Lil had put the children in a shaky situation. Belinda wouldn’t even have to pay for them. They’d be free and all over tomorrow’s tabloids. He wanted to twist the sunny smile she gave him right off her face.
“Well. I’ve said what I came to say, so I’ll see myself out. Neil?”
Neil straightened and offered his arm. Without turning, Belinda threw parting words over her shoulder. “If you want to play dirty, I’m ready to wallow in the mud. Don’t think you can screw me over. You can’t.”
He followed her and slammed the door shut, unfortunately just missing her ass. When he returned to the great room, Lil sat on the bottom step of the stairway. He didn’t know how long she’d been there or how much she’d heard, but from her carefully schooled expression and pink cheeks, he imagined more than enough. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Well,” she said, rising. “Well. I think I’ll go see if the children want lunch. Are you going to join us?
”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LUNCH AND DINNER both long past, dusk settled over the lake. The hills were a dark silhouette against sky and water, a fusion in shades of mauve. Standing at Melanie’s window, Lil pulled the drapes across the view, leaned over to give her a kiss good night. Mel smiled up at her, then returned to her book. Pulling Mel’s door closed, Lil tiptoed to the landing and paused at Michael’s door. From inside, she heard him humming a McDonald’s ditty and smiled. Satisfied he’d fall asleep in moments, she started down the stairs, lost in her thoughts. The visit from Belinda had been disturbing.
Shortly after Belinda had left, Jon’s business had intruded and they’d had no opportunity for private conversation. Through supper—he’d made a point of joining them—she’d made light conversation, of course making no mention of his ex-wife in front of the children. She’d noticed his eyes occasionally rested on her as though trying to assess her thoughts. Talking about his first marriage probably wasn’t high on his list of fun-filled activities, but she wanted to know more. Jon thought the woman only wanted money. But, following behind Belinda as she’d uttered her parting threats, he hadn’t seen her expression. Lil had seen all too clearly. For a moment, pure, unadulterated hatred had flamed across that pretty face. What exactly were they up against?
It wasn’t until she reached the bottom tread that she realized she wasn’t alone.
Jon sat on the sofa in the great room. Unnoticed, she watched him. He was the picture of relaxation in his cutoffs and T-shirt, holding a book loosely in one hand, his sandaled feet thrown up on the table, his gold hair loose in the lamplight. Yet his expression was haunted, and for long moments, he turned no page. As she moved into view, he hesitated, then tossed the book aside and patted the cushion next to him. “Come join me.”
“I thought you’d left for rehearsal.”
“Zeke won’t pick me up for another hour.”
She didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry. She did want to talk to him, but the atmosphere felt charged. Picking up his book, she perched on the sofa, rubbing a thumb back and forth across the binding. When she saw him watching her hand, she stopped.
He leaned his head back against the cushions. His pose was languid, but the fingers of one hand drummed restlessly on his thigh. They were long fingers, long hands. Slender, almost aristocratic. “About Belinda…”
She rushed into his pause, suddenly not wanting to know anything. “You don’t need to explain. I didn’t know she was so—”
“Fucked up?”
Lil fell silent. So gorgeous. So ephemeral. So…yes, so fucked up.
“My fault, you know. She wasn’t always like that.”
Lil battled between curiosity and the feeling she was getting pulled deeper into something she wasn’t ready for. Curiosity won. “What was she like?”
“Gidget. You know, Sally Field. Only more reckless, daring. Much braver than me in lots of ways—never would have taken the stuff my old man dished out. We were playmates. Played devil-dare-me a lot, and Belinda always won.”
“Robbie—” She hesitated. “We knew each other when we were children, too.”
It was the first time she’d brought him up. Jon’s hand stilled, and his eyes, soft caramel with gold glints, moved to hers. She read a question there, but he didn’t ask anything.
“Yeah, well, I doubt Belinda and my relationship was as…wholesome.”
She waited for more, and he sighed. His gaze moved away, wandered the room. “This won’t sound pretty. We were playing ‘you show me yours, I’ll show you mine’ at twelve. At fourteen, I was copping cigarettes and beer from the filling station for her.”
“Not for you?”
“Cigs, yes, beer, no. I didn’t really like the stuff. Preferred messing with my guitar.”
“You must have loved her, even then.”
He barked a short laugh. “Ah, Lil, you are so— ” Again, he glanced at her, stopped when she frowned. “Uh, romantic. No, I wasn’t in love. She rewarded me with her virginity. And kept rewarding me.”
“Ah.” Lil was amused. Did he think adolescent sexual awakening was totally unfamiliar to her? She and Robbie had waited but only barely.
“Anyway, I didn’t make a good thief. I landed in front of Judge Dougherty more times than I can count.”
“So the articles I read were true?” The confession—such a small thing, really—was made with such an air of guilt, her tension lessened. She couldn’t resist a little poke. Setting the book aside, she curled her legs up and settled back. If he turned his head, their mouths would be less than a foot apart. Her eyes widened at her thoughts.
He answered her question seriously. “To a point. When we divorced, Belinda tipped the press on those stunts. They picked over my court records like vultures, made me sound like a career felon.”
“And the rest. Is that true, too?” Now she really was amused.
“No! I never forced drugs on her, never had orgies, wouldn’t touch a minor—”
He was truly upset. She dropped the teasing tone, laid a hand on his arm. “I know.”
“—especially in front of the kids and— What do you mean, you know?”
“I’ve been living here, remember? And while you might be obsessed with your career, selfish to a fault and rarely think about anyone but yourself—”
His lips curved. “Gee, thanks.”
“You obviously aren’t running a den of iniquity.”
Silence fell, but it was no longer uncomfortable. Until he turned his head. Not a foot, mere inches. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her breathing grew shallow, and she realized she wanted him to close that short gap between their lips. She froze, denying any such thing, and he held just as still, as if afraid any movement might make her bolt.
Gathering a breath, she looked away. “You told me you married her after she followed you to Nashville, then you hit it big. Is that when she started using drugs?”
The moment passed. He hunched deeper into the cushions, and his fingers started tapping again. “She started soon after she got to Nashville. Hell, maybe she was doing it before. At first, I thought it was recreational. She did some weed. That’s not good either but…” He shrugged. “I wasn’t around much. I was caught up cutting another demo, trying to land an A&R Rep, composing with Zeke. The signs were there. I just didn’t want to see them. After she mis—” He hesitated. For a moment, pain crossed his features, then his face went smooth. “After I, uh, hit it big, she could afford designer drugs. She got into coke, big time. Cocaine and other things.”
“What other things?” The way he looked, she wasn’t really sure she wanted to know.
His fingers stopped tapping. “Other men. Melanie was just a baby when I came home early from a session one night. I’d wanted to surprise her— Van Castle’s first album had just gone platinum, and she’d been nagging me about buying this penthouse. I’d signed the papers, and thought we’d celebrate. Champagne, even a three-foot bunny for Mel.” Jon stared at the ceiling, but she knew he was seeing the past. “What a celebration. She’d started the party without me. The whole house was full of people I didn’t recognize. Stunk to high heaven with weed. Melanie was screeching from her crib, but I didn’t see Belinda.” He frowned.
“Where was she?”
“In the bedroom. Half naked. Going down—” He broke off. “She was there with another guy. Some asshole I’d never seen.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I threw him out. Threw everybody out. Belinda just smiled. Then when I started yelling, she got mad. I’d never seen her that mad. She threw my Fender. Threw out a bunch of stuff about how I’d neglected her, how she was bored cooped up with the baby, how it was my fault.”
“Your fault? That’s ridicu—”
“Then she fell on her knees. She was pitiful, sobbing for me to forgive her. I felt so helpless, so guilty.” He glanced at Lil. “Yeah, I forgave her. She was my wife. We had a baby, for God’s sake. I couldn’t just abandon her. She promised to get help and
stay clean. I purged Van Castle of dopeheads and threatened the rest if they snorted, smoked or swallowed anything stronger than aspirin. And Belinda…” He sighed. “We tried. She tried. She was in and out of rehab, and we were in and out of counseling, but it never took. Each time I thought it had, then I’d go out on the road or have to spend late hours at the studio, and she’d slip back.” He drummed his thigh again. “I just couldn’t give her enough of my time. You’ve seen how I am.”
Lil had sat silent, unmoving, through his entire tale, but now she made a sound of impatience. “Yes, I’ve seen how you are. And for some strange reason it hasn’t reduced me to taking drugs.”
He didn’t reply, and she realized he didn’t believe she understood. But she did understand. She understood he blamed himself for something he’d had no control over.
“Jon.” She covered his hand, stilling his fingers. “Listen to me. Belinda could have fought for you, for your time. She could have fought for your marriage. Or fought for herself, for Pete’s sake. She didn’t want to. She wanted drugs more. It’s not unreasonable you’d divorce her.”
“I didn’t just divorce her, Lil. At the peak of the band’s success, I cut her out of my life and ran for it. And I was so relieved to be rid of her, I fooled myself into thinking she could stay clean and the children would be okay with her. ”
“In other words, you did the best you could at the time.”
He looked at their hands. Something thrummed between them. “Lovely Lil, always seeing everything in black and white, not noticing the murky grays between.”
Uneasy, she slipped her hand off his.
He sighed again. “Look, I wasn’t stuffing drugs up her nose, but my life almost killed her, just like my old man killed—” He stopped, shook his head and continued, “I clutched at divorce, thinking if I released Belinda, I’d save her and my kids. And myself. Probably mostly myself. It was cowardly. The best I could think of wasn’t much.”
“Your father—”
“Sorry.” He shifted, ran a finger under the neckline of his T-shirt. “I think I’ve had enough of true confessions for one night. Uh, the kids still awake, you think?”
SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One) Page 17