My mom heard part of that and turned her crystal-blue gaze on him. “Interview? Are you looking for work, Adam?”
“No, ma’am.” He sat up straighter. “I work with your son.”
He did have a way of lying just so.
My dad folded the corner of the paper down, his pale Irish skin meeting the sun for the first time this century. “Micah does very well. You could learn a thing or two from him. Make sure he looks after you.”
I snorted. “Seriously, Dad. Adam does well enough. Leave him alone.”
Dad took shelter behind the paper, but Mom continued where he left off. “Micah’s band released a CD last year. You can’t do much better than that.” She pursed her lips, and I knew she’d soon be asking him who his parents were, where he went to church, and whether he’d gone to college. Never mind that Micah never had.
I decided to save Adam from this farce and stood. “Would you come with me? I’d like to show you something inside.”
He followed me through the sliding doors. I wound through the kitchen and dining room and up the carpeted stairs to the second floor. Down the hall, my own childhood bedroom had never been converted into an office. A four-poster canopy bed still filled most of the space. A bookshelf lined one of the walls, and an extra-long set of dresser drawers flanked the other. The dresser was littered with two decades’ worth of collections from the practical swivel mirror and earring holder to the childish figurines made in art class.
I grabbed a heart-shaped pillow off the bed and dropped it onto the toy chest under the window. I sat down to face Adam. His eyes bounced around the room as he scrutinized the vestiges of my youth.
After all my Internet stalking, interview recording, fan-forum diving, cellcert listening, Google image searching, YouTube watching, and self-inflicted mind fucking, it was uncanny to see larger-than-life rock star Adam Copeland standing beside my purple satin princess cone hat, picking up my blown glass elephant. But that’s not who I wanted to talk to. I needed to find my way back to the guy I thought he was before all that.
“We need to talk. Would you mind?”
A shadow passed over his face, but he slid a glossy pink and white chair away from my desk and settled in. “Okay. You want to talk about the interview?”
Squeezing my fists for courage, I pressed on. “That’s a good place to start.”
“Eden.” He bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. When he brought his eyes up to meet mine, I steeled myself for the worst. “I can’t tell you not to follow my public movements. They’re public. I can control what I say and do, but I can’t control how people will report it, or what they’ll say about it.”
He wasn’t answering the question, so I took a direct approach. “Were you out with Adrianna LaRue on Tuesday?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
I sat for a moment, staring at my feet, weighing my options. I didn’t have any right to grill him about any of this. But I didn’t have to stay involved with him. It was his right to see both of us, but I didn’t think I wanted to share him or anyone. I nodded and made up my mind.
“Thank you for being honest.” I stood up and started to walk out of the room, but when I went to pass him, he reached out and took my hand. A jolt of electricity shot up my arm, and my ankles wobbled.
“Eden. Stop.”
I stopped. He pulled me closer, and when our knees touched, the physical contact nearly broke my resistance. I fought the temptation to sit down on his lap and forgive everything. I reminded myself I was worth more than that. I deserved better. With considerable effort, I wrenched my hand free and stepped back, arms crossed. It was a convincing display of hostility. I nearly fooled myself into believing it, but my eyes fell on his lips, and I was a heartbeat away from caving.
He exhaled. “I wish we could go back to that time when you thought the Adam Copeland in the news media was someone else. When I was me, and that was him.”
“But you are him.”
“I am, but I’m also not. My image is there for people to manipulate and use to sell things—newspapers as well as music. When you have me, right here, you have me. Please believe me.”
“Adam. I do believe you. You have a way of saying things that are very precisely true. But having you right here, right now, doesn’t mean I have you when you’re out there. When you’re with others. Sleeping with your fans or whatever you do when you’re on tour. That’s the Adam I can’t control. And I don’t want to control you. But I also don’t want to be a part of that world.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Sleeping with fans? Is that what you think I do?”
“Well, I—”
“Eden, I tried to tell you when I met you that I don’t normally jump in bed like that with anyone. I can see why you wouldn’t believe me after how fast things went with us. But you had such a hold over me. I thought you felt it, too.”
My conscience pricked me as I thought about the perfume I’d worn that night. I hadn’t meant to seduce him, but what if I’d inadvertently made him do something so against his own nature? How could I be angry with him? I parsed his words for any hidden meaning. “You don’t normally. But you have?”
“Yes, I have. A very long stupid time ago.”
“But not last Friday night with a fan at a meet and greet?”
He laughed out loud. “That’s pretty specific.” Then his eyes widened. “Were you reading fan forums?” I took a step back, and he laughed again. “You were!”
“I was looking for concert footage of Micah onstage.” My cheeks heated up with the embarrassment of getting caught. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have clicked the link, but—” I threw up my hands. “What would you do if you saw someone making claims like that?”
“And you believed it?”
The tension broke, and my shoulders slumped. “No. Not really. But Adam, I’ve barely known you a week, so how could I be sure?”
“Eden, I’ve been surrounded by extremely ardent fans for years now. I can handle myself.”
“But it’s constant.”
“So were you having sex with your coworkers the whole time I was gone?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s hardly a fair comparison.”
“It’s fair to me. Dating fans would be like dating my employees. Only weirder. It would be like dating a magic mirror that only shows me what it thinks I want to see.”
I thought of Micah’s aversion to dating fans. I affected a teasing tone to cover my insecurities. “So you don’t collect notches on the bedpost?”
He frowned. “Hardly. But it was hard at first. Nobody prepared me for the sophistication of girls who get turned on by fame. Those girls used to find ways to get backstage to my dressing room or onto the bus. And the propositions they made would curl your hair.”
“They don’t now?”
“No, now we have bodyguards everywhere. I promise, I don’t mix with fans.”
“But you said you did?”
I could see I’d made him uncomfortable, and he shifted in his seat, but answered. “Once. It was one moment of weakness before I’d come to terms with how much my life had changed. One girl managed to tempt me by playing into every need or insecurity I had back then.”
“And you slept with her?”
“Well, I didn’t sleep with her.”
I’d signed up for this with my prying, but I didn’t like to think of him with anyone else. Even before me. Even once. When had I become so jealous? “Tell me the sex was terrible, and you took a vow of chastity.”
“The sex was sex. Not terrible, not great. Impersonal. And when it was over, she left and shared her experience with the world.”
“Oh, God.” I remembered worrying Stacy might post something innocuous about Adam and me on Facebook. I would’ve died if someone spilled graphic details about my sex life, like that girl on the fan forum. “But why didn’t she just lie about it if all she wanted was to impress people?”
He shrugged. “I don’t kn
ow. I guess she wanted some kind of boost to her self-esteem from contact with me. Maybe it made her feel like she was someone special for a moment. Not because I’m this great catch, but because I’m a difficult catch.”
“And that made you feel like prey?”
“No, it made me feel like a predator. It took no effort on my part to get with her. And I looked around me every night and saw more of the same. Girls wanting me to validate them in some way that I couldn’t. And I didn’t want to hurt any of them or me. All they saw in me was the bullshit rock-star image and the fame and fortune. Not me.” He smiled. “So then I took a vow of chastity. Sort of.”
So many things made so much more sense. “That would explain your lack of condom preparedness.”
“Yeah, it’s a lonely business, this fame thing. And that brings us back to Adrianna.”
My heart skipped a beat. I’d already forgotten I was mad about her, too. “Go on.”
“Do you remember when I texted you that something urgent had come up?”
I nodded.
“Adrianna was that urgent something.” He fished out his phone and Googled. He held out the photo from in front of the restaurant. “Did you see this?”
I nodded again.
“What did you think after you saw it?”
I hesitated. “I thought you were leaving a restaurant after eating dinner with Adrianna Tuesday night.”
He handed me the phone. “Look. Are we sitting in a restaurant?”
“No, you’re out on the street.”
“What am I wearing?”
I shrugged. “You’re wearing jeans, like you always do.”
“Do you recognize that shirt?”
I looked more closely. It couldn’t be. “You don’t mean?”
“Yeah. It’s the same shirt. Eden, I hadn’t been home yet.”
“But you had to leave before lunch, so where were you all that time?”
“One last question. What do I have on my face?”
“Sunglasses.” I stared at the picture. Behind them, a man walked a dog. He had on sunglasses, too. Another lady carried bags, like she’d come from shopping. Shadows darkened the sidewalk. Comprehension dawned on me, and my eyes darted up to Adam’s face. “What time was this?”
He smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“They can do that? Isn’t that libel or slander or something?”
“Read the headline again.”
“Adam Copeland and Adrianna LaRue. Dinner for two?”
He tilted his head toward me. “Where’s the lie in that? It’s presented as speculation, not fact.”
I jerked my finger at the image, incensed. “But the picture! They fudged the picture so it would look like night!”
“Look, Eden. I could maybe sue for libel. Maybe. I’d lose. And what would be the point? The newspaper wouldn’t stop printing misleading stories.”
“That must drive you crazy!”
He relaxed and sat back. “It used to. I’ve found the easiest course of action is to smile and say nothing. It blows over.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.” I handed him his phone. “You’re exhausted and come home to the third degree.”
“I expected it, actually.”
“Really?” I climbed up onto my bed and crossed my legs.
He got up and sat next to me. “I figured you’d either see it, or someone would say something. I expected one of three things to happen.”
I laughed. He sounded like me. “What were they?”
He took my hand. “You might’ve pretended like nothing had happened. I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I almost did. I didn’t think it was my business.”
“But it is, right?”
Hearing him say that warmed my heart. “So what’s the second thing?”
“I thought you wouldn’t talk to me at all. When we first got here, I thought you were getting ready to walk in the house and shut me out.”
I grimaced. “It had crossed my mind.”
“Ouch. Still better than pretending you’re not mad.”
“And what’s the third thing?”
He squeezed my hand. “This. Just talking. You should’ve just called and asked.”
I flashed back to Wednesday night, staring at his number in my contact list and wanting nothing more than to call. “I thought about it. It was the third option in my list. I held the phone in my hand and—”
“So why didn’t you call?”
“Because you’re—” Because he was an international celebrity, and I wasn’t.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. “Shit.”
“Well, if you knew I’d be mad, why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you call and explain?”
He winked. “I thought about it. It was the third option. I held the phone in my hand and—”
I laughed at his echo. I reciprocated. “So why didn’t you call?”
“First, because there was a chance you wouldn’t have seen the interview, and I didn’t want to open a can of worms for nothing.”
“That makes sense.”
“Second, because I might’ve made myself look guilty by claiming innocence before I was even accused.”
“Thou doth protest too much?”
“Yup. And third, because I don’t want to have to call to explain every time a news story puts me in an unfavorable light. I’d be calling you every five minutes. And honestly I’m unaware of most of the accounts.”
I beamed, proud of myself for having come to that conclusion already. “I did think of that.”
“But mostly, because I was afraid you’d hang up on me.”
“Oh. I didn’t think of that.”
“I did. But Eden, can we talk about why you didn’t call me?” His hand left mine and traveled up my arm. He gently circled my shoulder when he asked, “Can you forget about all that, please? I’m just a regular guy.”
Goose bumps visibly popped up everywhere his finger went. “But, Adam, everyone wants you.”
“No, they don’t. They want that guy. And I’m banking on the hope that you’re not into that guy.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m mystified by that guy.”
“Truth? I am, too.” His thumb tickled the side of my neck, and my head fell in that direction. “I’m the guy who spent hours learning to play guitar and then sang poorly with my friends in a basement in Brooklyn, over and over until we got decent. I love music and want to make a career of it. All this other stuff is confusing and isolating.” His fingers ran across my lips, and I kissed them.
He leaned forward and kissed me, and my lips curled in a wicked smile. “My bedroom’s a virgin.”
He looked around. “Yeah? Can we do something about that?”
Against my strongest impulse, I dragged myself away from him and went to check out the window. My parents were sitting on the porch together. Dr. Steve was nowhere to be seen. Micah lay passed out on a lawn chair. I didn’t care about any of the other neighbors. I walked over and locked the door. Then I returned and pushed Adam backward.
As I worked his shirt up, I breathed him in. “You smell good.”
“You seem surprised. I did have time to shower before coming here.”
“It’s just that I’ve missed you. Is that too weird?”
“I hope not because I’ve missed you, too. And—” He reached into his pocket, waggled his eyebrows, and revealed a square black envelope, like it was the Hope diamond.
Chapter 11
On the way to my apartment, Adam and I stopped and picked up a giant bucket of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. We were both starving from avoiding the food at my mom’s. Adam moved around my kitchen like it was his, gathering plates and silverware. We plopped down at the table and silently put back the calories we’d burned off in my childhood bedroom.
Halfway through the bucket, there was a knock at the door. Stacy stood on the landing and came in without being invited.
; “I saw your car and—” She cleared the entrance and encountered Adam sitting at my kitchen table. She stopped dead, as though she were on an African safari and had come across a polar bear. She stared at me, slack jawed.
“Want some chicken?” I asked her, pushing back a chair.
She came over and sat at the table, staring at the wing in Adam’s hand like it had magical properties.
“You should turn her into a newt,” I suggested.
Adam waved the wing at her. “Hi, Stacy.”
“You know my name!” She bounced a little in her chair.
He looked at me, as if to say, See? But to her he said, “Of course. We took a picture together.”
She squealed and hit me. “He remembers me!!”
Frankly, I was embarrassed by her behavior, but Adam kept eating, so I spooned more mashed potatoes on my plate. “You wanna watch TV?”
He shrugged. “Not much on.”
I grabbed the remote.
Stacy gawked. I snapped my fingers. “Stacy, do you want some fried chicken? I don’t think we can finish it all.”
I picked up the bucket and moved it over to the coffee table. Adam stretched and propped his feet up. I sat down and snuggled against him. He wrapped one arm around my shoulder and the other across my front, locking his hands together, hugging me. Stacy zombie-staggered over and dropped onto the love seat. Slowly, she seemed to thaw.
“So . . .” She was watching us instead of the TV.
I threw my eyes her way. “Spit it out, Stacy.”
She blinked. Twice. “What’s going on with you guys?”
I tilted my head. Seriously? “Well, we’re sitting on the sofa, watching whatever this investigative report is. We’re both sleepy. What’s going on with you?”
Adam’s arms tightened around me. I let my head fall on his shoulder. I was tempted to nuzzle his neck, but we had company to perform for.
I desperately wanted Stacy to snap out of it and behave like her normal self, but she seemed perpetually dazed by Adam. She couldn’t seem to shake the celebrity crush she’d had on him before. Surely, she could see he wasn’t made of gold. There was nothing I could say to reach her, but maybe in time, her false image of him would be replaced with the reality of him.
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