Marti had been born to a mother who never wanted her. How many other unwanted pregnancies had her mother ended? Marti shuddered. She did not want to be her mother, but was she already following in her footsteps? She rubbed her lower belly. Still flat. She would wait a few more days before taking the test; she wasn’t ready to know.
Normally, Marti didn’t pray, but in this instance she thought a few prayers couldn’t hurt. “Please God, don’t let me be pregnant. If you let me not be pregnant, I promise I’ll never have sex again.” She thought for a moment. “At least not without birth control,” she added, as she didn’t want to lie to God.
As she approached the mansion, a Mercedes convertible sped by with Courtney driving and Nigel in the passenger seat. Courtney pulled in and parked in the circular drive.
Marti stopped. Crap. She didn’t want to deal with them. She sat on a stone ledge outside the property next door and waited for the pair to go inside.
It wasn’t a minute later that a tow truck pulled in to her dad’s driveway. It turned around in the drive and backed up to the bumper of the little convertible.
Marti watched as the driver jumped out of the cab, pulled out some sort of cable and hooked it to the back of the car. Marti fished in her bag for her camera. This guy was stealing Courtney’s car! She couldn’t stop him, but she could at least get a picture of his license plate. By the time she had the lens cover off and the camera turned on, the tow truck pulled the car away. She caught only a couple shots of the getaway tow truck.
She rushed into the house and found her dad lounging on the couch with a cigarette between his fingers and some pawnshop program on the big screen. Courtney sat on the other end of the couch and pulled items out of her shopping bags. Nigel drank a beer.
“Dad! A truck just towed away your convertible!” She doubted Courtney could afford such pricey wheels.
“What!” Courtney shrieked, dropping her latest acquisitions, and bolted for the front door.
Her dad frowned and continued watching his show.
“Fuck!” Courtney yelled from the entry way. “Those bastards took my car!” She stormed back into the living room.
“Technically, it was my car, not yours,” Marti’s dad said, his voice devoid of concern. Marti saw him roll his eyes when Courtney wasn’t looking.
Courtney huffed and turned on Marti. “Why didn’t you stop them?”
Marti shrank back. “I… I didn’t realize what they were doing until it was too late.”
“Steven! Aren’t you going to do something?” Courtney loomed before him with her long, lacquered fingernails pressing into her hips.
“What do you want me to do? You insisted that if I paid the down payment, you’d make the monthly payments.” He leveled his bloodshot eyes on Courtney. “Looks like you missed a payment…or four.” He returned his attention to the TV and a man carrying a life-size mannequin dressed like Elvis.
Courtney knelt on the floor next to him and caressed his thigh. “Oh, baby. I missed a couple payments. I didn’t mean to, but they’re so expensive, and my allowance doesn’t cover everything I need.”
Allowance? Seriously?
“Help me out this one time and pay off my back payments,” she cooed into his ear, letting him look at her ample cleavage. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.” Courtney’s hand slid between his legs. She sucked on his earlobe.
Marti cringed and turned away. Nigel shot her a suggestive leer. Marti wanted to run, but held her ground.
“No. The bank’s closed.” Her dad pushed Courtney away, aimed his remote at the TV, and cranked the volume.
Courtney turned on Marti. “This is all your fault!”
“What did I do?”
“For one, you little bitch, you could have stopped the tow truck from taking my car!” she yelled, her sexy allure gone.
Marti didn’t know what to say. Her dad didn’t flinch, zoned in on the TV. No reaction. Great. The guy with the tow truck had moved so fast he wasn’t parked for more than twenty seconds. By the time she figured out what was happening, he was on his way.
“Secondly, you’re here! What the fuck are you doing here anyway? Steven and I are perfect together, and now you’re ruining everything!” For a small woman she had a lot of volume. “We never get to be alone anymore!” Courtney’s face turned an angry hue of red.
“But Nigel is always here,” Marti pointed out.
“Of course he’s here. He’s my brother, I told you that! Are you stupid?” she bellowed.
“Sorry.” Marti backed away.
“Courtney?” Her dad reached out and patted her butt. “The band is coming over in a couple hours. Did you get everything ordered?”
“Yes!” she snapped. “But I don’t know why I do everything for you. What have you done for me lately?”
Marti’s dad raised an eyebrow and eyed Courtney in a way that made Marti even more ill at ease.
Courtney’s personality flipped like a dime. “Oh baby, you know I’m teasing. I love you so much. You know I’d do anything for you.” She took his hand and kissed it. “In fact, I better go check on some things.”
As Courtney turned away, Marti saw her shoot a look at Nigel. Courtney left the room, and a moment later Nigel followed. He stepped close to Marti as he passed. So close that he would have brushed against her if she hadn’t stepped back.
Marti stood in the room with the TV blaring and her dad totally ignoring the scene that just took place.
“Well… I guess I’ll go upstairs and email some friends.” She waited, but her dad didn’t seem to hear, so she backed away until she neared the stairs. When she arrived at her room, the door stood ajar.
Shit. She knew she closed it before leaving. “Kahlua!” She discovered the cat curled up in the sun on top of a t-shirt Marti had left on the floor. Marti scanned her room for anything missing or out of place. Her dad could care less what she had in her room, but Courtney or Nigel might be nosey.
Her blood boiled at the thought of either of them nosing around her stuff. And if it was Nigel, well, that gave her the creeps even more.
She tossed her shoulder bag on the desk, and it fell open revealing the bag from the drug store. Her pregnancy test. She stared at the bag. It stared back, mocking her. She closed the bag so she wouldn’t have to look at it.
She wasn’t ready to take that test. Maybe she’d get her period tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. If she was pregnant, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. At least not yet.
Everything felt so messed up. Why couldn’t anything be simple anymore? Her mind wandered to Adam again. He hadn’t asked her if they were safe yet. Had he forgotten all the unprotected sex they had? Did he really care about her anymore or was it all in her mind?
She picked up her phone and checked it. No messages, no texts. What did he say he had going today? Was it the meeting with the New Year’s Eve Planning Committee about performing in Times Square on New Years?
“How’s NYC?” she texted. That seemed generic enough. No pressure, not pushy. If he wanted to answer, it couldn’t be that hard to sneak a text back. She waited and watched.
The phone screen remained blank. It didn’t ding with a new message. It didn’t light up. She sighed. The empty screen mirrored the feeling in her heart. Empty. Silent. Dark. Why did she always feel so alone?
Because she was.
Chapter 17
A couple hours later, Marti paged through the last of her magazines. Losing herself in the latest fashions and Hollywood gossip helped distract from her own world. Nothing like useless news items to soothe the mind.
Through her open patio door, Marti heard the comings and goings of people downstairs. Sounded like another troop of caterers bringing in food for tonight’s big bash. She heard loud talking and laughing. She sighed.
A click sounded, and Marti looked up to see Courtney, the size zero psycho, barge in. Her hot pink spandex top left little to the imagination. The fabric squeezed so tight, it wouldn’t h
ide a freckle. Did she really think that made her attractive?
“You knock much?” Marti said.
Courtney sauntered in, showing off her leather pants. They laced up the side, exposing skin from waist to ankle. No panties on her tonight.
“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” She perused the room with haughty disdain.
“Not nearly as much as you have.” Marti wondered how the woman walked in her sky-high platform heels. Courtney wandered around the room and stopped at the desk. She glanced at the jewelry and lotion bottles strewn about, then she poked at Marti’s handbag so it fell open.
Marti leapt off the bed, knocking her magazines to the floor as Courtney opened the drug store bag containing the pregnancy test. She arched an eyebrow and an evil smile curled on her lips. Marti snatched the bag from Courtney’s reach. “Keep your hands off my stuff!”
“My, my, my! Someone’s got a little problem,” she tsked. “Who’s the unlucky boy?”
“None of your damn business!” Marti wanted to knock Courtney off her six-inch heels.
“Some pimply faced Midwest farm boy, I’m sure.”
Wouldn’t Courtney be shocked to hear it was Adam Jamieson, a rocker at the top of his game? Unlike her dad, who hoped to rekindle the dream.
“Is there a reason you barged in here?”
“Your dad wants you to come down and meet the band. He wants to show you off like a new toy.” Courtney flicked a speck of lint off her top.
“I’ve already met the band! I’ve known them since I was a baby.” Marti set her bag on the bedside table and turned to face Satan’s spawn. “I was around here long before you, and I’ll be around long after you’re gone.”
“Ooh, kitty has claws,” Courtney taunted, as she went out the door, leaving it open.
“You let my cat out!”
“Better keep an eye on your pussy.” Courtney’s laugh could be heard all the way down the hall.
Great. Now she had no choice but to go say hi to the Graphite Angels, who, as far as Marti was concerned, were anything but angels.
Marti walked into the middle-aged fray of a band who’d seen their better days. She would have preferred to look for Kahlua and retreat to her room, but Grandma raised her with better manners than that.
“Martini! Come on over, you remember the guys!” Her dad couldn’t hide his joy. It was nice to see him happy over something as simple as a band reunion. He wore outrageous reptile-patterned pants with a bright pink leopard print shirt; numerous pendants hung from his neck on leather cords. Her rocker dad was in fine form.
At first, she didn’t recognize the men. She pasted a smile on her face and joined the motley crew. A heavy-set guy with a large bald spot took one look at Marti and broke into a grin.
“This can’t possibly be the little cupcake who used to play inside my drum cases.” He held his arms wide.
“Teddy!” Marti stepped into his bear hug. He hadn’t changed a bit, if you didn’t count the extra forty pounds and the hair loss.
“This is Martini? Not possible.” Frank, the lead singer, said, inhaling his cigarette. He wore skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, and fedora.
“Hi Frank,” she said, remembering the screaming matches he and her dad used to have.
“Steven, there’s no way a guy as ugly as you could have a daughter as beautiful as this,” said Jon. Jon played bass, and his long rocker hair had turned to a lovely shade of gray.
Marti blushed, and her dad puffed up with pride. As she greeted and hugged each band member, she remembered the good times from long ago. Most of those good times unfortunately ended ugly, but that was the past. She noticed Courtney outside of the reunion circle, ignored, at least for the moment. She wore a sneer of displeasure. Marti bet Courtney wasn’t used to not being the center of attention.
While Marti only meant to say hi and leave, she got caught up in visiting with these men from her childhood. She enjoyed feeling like she belonged, for a change. In a way, her dad’s band was part of her family, and she didn’t have much family left.
The band members talked about the upcoming tour and tossed around ideas. Frank expressed a definite opinion as to how it should go. Marti could tell her dad didn’t agree by the way he ignored every comment. Even so, the atmosphere stayed upbeat. Within an hour, more people arrived, none of whom she recognized.
“Hey, Martini, come on over and say hi to Jack,” her dad called.
Jack? As in her half-brother, Jack Daniels Hunter? Last time she saw him, he was fourteen and a holy terror, spraying graffiti on the side of buildings, shoplifting, and smoking dope.
She joined her dad, but didn’t spot Jack. Then she saw a guy talking to Courtney. He was the height of her dad, but with scruffy blonde hair, wearing a baggy t-shirt. His jeans hung from his skinny hips.
“Jack, remember your sister, Martini?” her dad said.
Jack glanced up, his eyes droopy. He looked Marti up and down as if she were a pair of shoes he’d forgotten. “No shit?”
Yup, that was Jack. Not much changed with him in six years. “No shit.” Marti mirrored his answer.
“Cool,” he said to his long lost sister and turned to their dad. “Hey Steven.” Jack never called him Dad. “You talk to your agent about my band yet?”
“We’ll talk about it another time,” he answered.
“Why haven’t you called him? All we need is someone to give us a fucking break! Jesus, man, you won’t even help out your own son.”
Their dad got up close in Jack’s face. “I said we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” And he walked away. “I need a drink. Anybody need a drink?” He called to the room in general.
Several cheers of agreement rose, and the bunch headed out to the pool bar.
“Asswipe,” Jack said under his breath and stormed off the other way.
Courtney smiled like a satisfied cat, which reminded Marti that she’d forgotten to look for Kahlua.
A moment of panic hit. If Kahlua ran away, Marti didn’t know if she could find her way back. The mansion was built on the side of a steep hill, home to plenty of wild animals. Kahlua could be quick dinner to a fox. Ignoring Courtney, the bitch on wheels, Marti turned and began her search.
It took her a while to search all the rooms with doors open. She peeked under beds and large furniture. She searched the yoga room, the breakfast room, and the sitting room filled with platinum records and trophies. Nothing.
Back in the Great Room, she tried to be more discreet. Most of the guests were outside and well on their way to a raging hangover. Above the din of voices, she heard a couple people arguing. Now that felt familiar! A nice evening escalating into a full-out brawl. She better find the damn cat and fast.
A new ruckus sounded outside and then laughter. She looked out the patio doors to see Nigel, decked out in a silky shirt and dress pants, gripping Kahlua by the scruff of the neck.
“Look what I found,” he bragged. “Sweet little pussy. She wanted to join the party.”
Marti stepped outside. Oh shit. Her heart pounded as he swung her cat around by the fur of her neck. Marti fought the urge to barrel out there and demand he set her cat down, because instinct told her he’d do the opposite.
Kahlua meowed her frustration. Nigel glanced in Marti’s direction and saw her fury. He turned the cat’s face toward him. “What’s that you say? Pussy wants to go for a swim?”
The group around him laughed. He watched Marti’s anger turn to fear.
“If you insist,” he said to the cat and walked to the edge of the deep end.
“Nigel! Put her down!” Marti yelled, running toward him.
His eyes narrowed. He smirked and flung Kahlua into the pool. The drunk onlookers roared with laughter.
“No!” Marti screamed, but no one heard. She rushed to the side as Kahlua floated to the top and started swimming, which, she had to admit, did look funny.
Nigel stared at Marti in challenge. Kahlua swam to the edge of the pool a few feet past him. Mart
i rushed to fetch her.
Nigel stepped in her path. “Looks like your pussy got wet.”
Marti boiled with embarrassment and rage. She wanted to smash his face in. Instead, she shoved him hard. In his inebriated state, he couldn’t catch himself. He splashed in the pool, fancy clothes and all.
Marti rushed to the side of the pool in time to scoop Kahlua out. The sopping wet, pissed off cat meowed loudly. If Kahlua still had claws, Marti would have been toast.
Nigel came up sputtering. “You little bitch!”
The guests applauded.
“Next time, I’ll break the little fuckers neck!” he yelled.
A deafening roar sounded from the house. She looked up as someone on a motorcycle rode through the great room into the pool area, revving the engine.
This party was getting way out of hand. Marti rushed back into the house, holding Kahlua tighter. The little shit mewed and bit Marti’s neck.
Marti rubbed her sore neck. “But isn’t that how things are lately?” she said to the cat. “You try to be nice, and end up getting bitten.”
* * *
Adam tried to shake away his desperate need for sleep. Morning shows were the worst. The band had to be there at the butt crack of dawn for sound check. Last night they were only supposed to work until midnight on the video shoot, but, as always, technical screw-ups kept them there ‘til after two a.m. Three and a half hours of sleep was not cutting it.
So here he was, on a stage in Times Square with his brothers. Normal people were still in bed, not shivering in the early morning hours. Temporary fencing held back the growing crowd of diehard fans who kept yelling his name.
He’d waved and smiled a few times, but really just wanted to be left alone. He kept searching the crowd of faces, but the one face he wanted to see—Marti’s, of course—wasn’t there. He turned his back to the fans, effectively blocking out their neediness. The band was only rehearsing. The show wasn’t for another two hours. He’d let Garrett and Peter handle the fans for a change.
Snapshot (The Jamieson Collection) Page 21