by Raine Thomas
He hadn’t.
Maybe it was because of her second confrontation with Kaila...the one that occurred as she exited the bus. Kaila had stood outside the hotel less than thirty feet from the bus, likely waiting for Sage and the rest of the band to join her. They spotted each other as Rosemary stepped off the bus’s last step. There was little to do but acknowledge each other in passing unless Rosemary wanted to miss her flight. She had taken a deep breath and headed towards the door where Kaila stood.
“Good morning,” she had said.
“Good morning,” Kaila replied. When Rosemary started to walk past, Kaila reached out to touch her arm. “And thank you.”
Rosemary stopped and faced her. “For what?”
“For helping me realize how much I love Sage.”
The words served as fine-edged weapons against Rosemary’s already pulverized heart. “Sure,” she had murmured.
“I know I have no right to ask anything of you,” Kaila continued. “I intend to anyway. I’d like to ask that you please give me and Sage time to reconnect with each other.”
Rosemary felt angry heat burning in her cheeks and throat. How could Kaila stand there and thank her for bringing her and Sage back together, then ask that she essentially stop communicating with him to help foster things between them?
“You know that a life with me is what he’s wanted all these years,” Kaila went on in a gentle voice, as though she knew she was hurting Rosemary and wanted to soften the blow. “He’s been waiting for me and now he has me. Don’t you want him to be happy?”
That had been hitting below the belt...or maybe dead center of the chest. In either case, Kaila’s point had hit its target. Rosemary was fooling herself if she forgot that her “relationship” with Sage had all been a ploy to achieve this very goal.
Defeated, she had merely nodded in agreement with Kaila’s request and continued into the hotel and on to the airport.
It pained her to admit that she kind of respected Kaila. If things had been different, she could even see them becoming friends. Nothing Kaila had done had been deliberately mean or vengeful. Yes, she’d made a mistake by not committing to Sage earlier in their relationship, but she seemed serious about fixing that now. Rosemary tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that Sage finally had what he wanted.
It didn’t help much.
She waited a few days before sending him a friendly-toned text to ask if he was happy to be home. He hadn’t replied. Though she supposed she should have taken the hint, she had broken down and texted him again to ask how the “Not Mine” video filming had gone.
Nothing.
She didn’t even have Noelle’s wedding planning as a possible excuse to communicate with him. She and Mandy had gone on a road trip with Noelle’s family, and their wedding date was more than a year off.
Had the missed call from Sage truly been a butt-dial? What if he had found the rose and wanted to ask her about it?
Did he know she loved him?
Had that scared him off?
Would she ever get to talk to him again?
After a few minutes of silent debate, she cleared the missed call and moved on to her e-mail. Monique was right. If Sage wanted to talk to her, he would have left a message.
She was the one who had gotten her heart into this awful predicament. Now she had to pay the price.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A week-and-a-half after the tour ended, Lily and Dane met with attorney Shelley Custer and one of her associates, a guy named J.D. Atwood who looked like he should be attending a local kegger on a college campus. Aside from his blond, tan, blue-eyed youthful look, however, J.D. conducted himself like a serious attorney. Anything Shelley requested was instantly at her fingertips as he pulled it from their sizeable file.
Lily gripped Dane’s hand beneath the conference table where they were currently sitting. J.D. had ushered them there upon their arrival in the firm’s grand lobby, offering them any and all kinds of refreshments. Lily suspected he might have run out to buy something they requested if it wasn’t already at the firm. Lucky for him they had only asked for water.
Shelley got right to business when she joined them in the conference room. Lily appreciated that the high-powered attorney didn’t try to pad her billing hours with a lot of unnecessary small talk.
They reviewed the charges being pressed by Johnathan’s legal team. He was pushing for assault and battery against both Lily and Archer and was seeking punitive damages, claiming his reputation had been smeared by Lily’s slap and Archer’s take-down and threat against him.
Lily thought that was a load of horse crap.
“There’s no criminal case here worth parading through a courtroom,” Shelley said in her no-nonsense tone. “A first-year law student would review the footage of what happened, look into your backgrounds and find out neither of you has a criminal record, and immediately deduce that a judge will at most impose a small fine and community service. The smarter course, and the one the opposing legal team has opted to take, is to bring this to civil court where there is more of a possibility that the claimant could be awarded financial damages.”
Even though Shelley wasn’t heavy on the legalese, it was enough to have a low-level headache building behind Lily’s eyes. The idea of Johnathan getting a single dime from either her or Dane infuriated her.
“The burden of proof is on the claimant,” Shelley said. “There are several recordings of the confrontation. Those recordings as well as the witness statements we have collected clearly show the claimant provoking Lily.”
“It’s also arguable that the incident not only didn’t damage Mr. Wingerson’s reputation,” J.D. interjected, “but that he has, in fact, benefited from it through media exposure.”
“He’s been wise enough to avoid accepting money for paid interviews,” Shelley said. “And he’s remained silent about the case. His attorneys likely informed him that any benefit resulting from this incident will weaken their case and lower any possible financial award.”
“We intend to argue that some of the recent interviews conducted by the claimant in his job as an entertainment writer wouldn’t have been possible without the doors opened to him by all of this,” J.D. said.
Lily and Dane looked between the attorneys as they effortlessly volleyed the case details. Their harmonious back-and-forth told Lily they must spend a lot of time together doing this every day.
“There was some derogatory press after the footage of the slap aired,” Shelley said. “It will be argued that the claimant was derided for being struck by a woman and then so easily taken down by you, Archer.”
Lily struggled against her ongoing internal battle over the stinging slap she had delivered to Johnathan’s cheek. Yes, he had basically called her a whore and accused her of using Dane for his money. Her reaction, however, had been instinctive...and just as humiliating to Johnathan as her own mother’s slaps to her had been throughout her life.
Was she really no better at controlling herself than her abusive mother?
Dane’s thumb rubbed against her wrist as though he sensed where her thoughts had gone. She had already told him of her innermost feelings about this lawsuit. He refused to let her compare herself to Rhonda in any way.
“He attacked first,” Dane had reminded her. “No, it wasn’t physical, but it was just as hurtful.”
While that may be true, Lily felt she should have better controlled her reaction. It was something with which she was trying to come to terms.
What was done was done.
“As I mentioned briefly over the phone,” Shelley said, “we’ve prepared a countersuit that I think you should seriously consider filing, Lily. We have plenty of video and photographic evidence to support a claim of attempted rape against Mr. Wingerson.”
Hearing the words attempted rape gave Lily a jolt even though she had been told about the countersuit beforehand. She exchanged a look with Dane.
“I just can’t believe it’s co
me to this,” she said wearily. “Johnathan was always such a calm, stable guy.”
“Male pride is a real thing,” J.D. said.
His smile was meant to comfort Lily and it did. She managed a small smile herself.
“If you want this resolved quickly and with as little financial impact as possible,” Shelley said, “I encourage you to file the countersuit.”
Lily took a deep breath. The truth was that she didn’t have time to deal with this, especially not for several more weeks or even months. She was neck-deep in social media and press obligations as they prepared for The Void’s upcoming release of “Miracle Worker.” Her articles for Rolling Stone had been returned to her by the editing team with a few requests for changes that she needed to complete. Her contracts with D’Antonio’s Jewelry and a few other businesses interested in hiring her to promote them were pending based on the outcome of this lawsuit. They didn’t want someone tangled in legal trouble serving as their endorser. Oh, and there was the little matter of planning a wedding that would take place in a little over a month.
A chunk of her future income was on hold because of Johnathan. She was tired of living every day in doubt and worry over what this lawsuit might mean to her and Dane. There was only one way she could see putting an end to this.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s file the countersuit.”
* * *
Regina knocked on the door to Nikki’s apartment in Mar Vista. Despite being almost eleven o’clock at night, loud music thumped from the other side of the door. It took several tries at increasingly loud decibels to garner a response to her knocking. Eventually the door opened to reveal Nikki wearing a black bra, a pair of unbuttoned jeans, and a glassy stare that Regina had come to recognize well over the past few weeks.
“Dear God,” Regina coughed, waving at the overpowering cloud of smoke that seeped out the door. “Open a window, for heaven’s sake.”
“What the fuck’re you doin’ here?” Nikki slurred.
She was too intoxicated to stop Regina from shoving into the apartment. Seeing Mal passed out on the couch without a stitch of clothing on had Regina’s temper igniting.
“Have you lost your mind?” she shouted over the music.
When he didn’t respond, Regina marched over to the stereo and pressed the glowing power button. The apartment fell into blissful silence. Someone in a neighboring apartment shouted “Thank you, Jesus!” loud enough to carry through the wall.
“Hey,” Nikki said, slamming the door and stumbling towards Regina. “This is my place. You got no right to just—”
“I have every right,” Regina interrupted, flinging open one window and then a second one so she didn’t end up with a contact high. “I’m the reason you have this apartment, you ungrateful, strung-out piece of trash. You’re out of control and you’re taking Mal with you. I won’t allow it.”
Nikki snorted. “He’s a big boy. Not as big as Keith, but—”
“Get over it,” Regina snapped, in no mood to listen to Nikki’s nonsense. “Archer and Connors have no interest in you. Why would they? Just look at yourself.”
Ignoring Nikki’s sputtering protest, Regina gave Mal a shove and ordered him to get up. He grumbled and tossed an arm over his eyes in protest. Seeing a plastic bin holding only melted ice on the coffee table, Regina grabbed it and tossed it on him.
The string of curses that filled the air from both Mal and Nikki would have blistered a nun’s ears. Regina tossed the empty container to the floor.
“Shut up,” she ordered. “Both of you. I’ve absolutely had it. You’ve pushed things too far.”
Mal stalked over to the kitchen and grabbed some paper towels off the loose roll sitting on the counter. “What are you bitching about now? We’re doing whatever we can to get into the press. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Regina was glad to hear that he sounded sober. “Not when all of the press is negative,” she countered. “It’s been nonstop since we got back from touring. First it was a fight at that Hollywood club, then it was a claim of public indecency. Now I’m watching the media reports and I see that you were questioned about shoplifting.” Her gaze moved between them since the first incident involved Nikki, the second Mal, and this third one Nikki again.
“It was staged,” Nikki yelled, her brows knit in a scowl. “We’re doing what you told us to do.”
“No, you’re not.” Regina grabbed Mal’s pants and tossed them to him.
“What about my under—?” he started to say before he caught her glare. “Never mind.” He slid the pants on over his naked body.
“I’ve said time and time again that we need to stay relevant without making a mockery of the Suddenly Something brand,” Regina said, moving around the room and gathering Mal’s things. “I had a major producer call me an hour ago to say he no longer wishes to work with us on the album we’re putting together.”
Mal frowned. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Do you know how hard I had to work to get the producer interested in the first place? We’re hanging on to our recent popularity by a thin thread.” Turning to Nikki, she said, “Your decision today might have just snapped it.”
Nikki got close enough to Regina that Regina could smell the whiskey on her breath. “Don’t try and say this is all my fault.”
“That’s just what I’m saying,” Regina said coolly. “As of right now, you and Mal are no longer an item. I don’t want you anywhere near him or the rest of the band.”
Nikki’s cheeks flamed with twin stripes of color. “You bitch. You think you can just get rid of me? I’ll tell the world everything I know about you and Suddenly Something and what you’ve done to get where you are.”
“Try it. You signed iron-clad nondisclosures with Suddenly Something, The Void, and House of Archer. If my attorneys don’t take you down, theirs will.
“You’re done.”
Rather than explode like Regina expected, Nikki reeled back. “No,” she rasped. “You can’t do this to me. Not after everything I’ve done for you.”
“For me?” Regina scoffed, hardening herself to the sight of Nikki’s tears. “You’ve never done anything you didn’t want to do. We both know you got involved with The Void to get closer to Archer, not for me or Suddenly Something. The moment you got dumped by Keith and knew you wouldn’t be able to hang around Archer anymore, you went off the rails. I refuse to let you take me and my boys down with you.”
Regina waved Mal after her as she headed to the door. “Get yourself together and maybe we can discuss working together again. Until then, stay the hell away from us.”
“Wait!” Nikki cried.
She tried to chase after them. She didn’t make it three steps before she tripped over one of her boots and fell head-long into a bar stool. The sound of her drunken cursing followed Regina and Mal as they walked down the stairs to the parking lot. Mal’s motorcycle was parked a couple of spaces down from Regina’s car. They stopped on the sidewalk near his bike.
“Are you sober enough to drive?” she asked, giving him a careful study.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling his keys from his jeans pocket. “That was just post-BJ dozing. She’s the one poisoning herself.”
“Fine. I assume you’re not going to fight me about this breakup?”
“Nah. She’s good for a lay but that’s about it. The chick won’t stop talking about The Void. You ask me, she’s losing it.”
Regina didn’t have to ask Mal to come to that conclusion, she thought as she got into her car and pulled away from the apartment complex. Nikki’s outrageous behavior had been escalating for weeks. Regina had probably waited too long to pull the plug there, but it had been a judgment call based on the exposure Nikki had helped the band achieve and the tenuous connection she offered between Suddenly Something and The Void.
Regina now had other sources to fill that gap. The Void’s entourage was growing along with their popularity. Plenty of people to tap into if she learned the right ap
proach. Between the plans she had rolling with the help of those sources and Nikki’s self-destructive actions, the decision to cut Nikki out had become a no-brainer.
Upwards and onwards, Regina thought. It was how she had always done business and there was no reason to stop now...not when her goals were all within sight.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The headquarters of Linear Records had been in the same location for more than sixty years. Sometimes it felt to Sage like his father had been there as long as the company. This place had been a part of his childhood. Had things gone differently and Sage not followed his own path, it might have become his legacy.
He considered what it might have been like to commute to an office in the Hollywood Hills every day, likely spending eighty hours a week there. How it might be to wheel and deal and make dreams come true for other artists.
Maybe something about it would be fulfilling. The rest made him want to dig his own grave.
Yet his father had chosen this company over his own family, not just once, but twice. Sage acknowledged his lingering resentment over that and then let it go. Dwelling on it wouldn’t make it different. As Rosemary had once told him, the only person’s attitude and behavior he could control was his own.
His thoughts had strayed to her throughout this trip to visit his father. Hell, he thought about her constantly. It had been nearly two weeks since the tour ended.
What was she doing?
How was she feeling?
Did she hate him for not responding to her two texts?
Why hadn’t she tried to reach him again?