The girl next to me shrieked. “I love you, Adam!” The chain reaction was instantaneous. “Te amo, Adam! Adam!!”
I doubled over and put my hands on my knees, trying to control my laughter. “You’ve turned me into a fan girl. How do you like that?”
He laid his hands on my shoulders, and I fought to gain control of my emotions. Hot tears streamed down my face even while I stifled my giggles.
Light-headed, I straightened back up and screwed my face up as serious as I could manage. “Say something, would you?”
He wiped a tear from my cheek and flashed his wicked smile. “So you’re saying you want me?”
My breath hitched. “Oh, I want you.”
“Good, because I’m crazy about you.”
He jumped the barricade, and gasps sounded around us as the girls in the line lost their minds. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips against mine. Time stood still as I lost myself in that kiss. Then the frantic screaming and jostling of the fans became too overwhelming to ignore.
Adam waved to the security guard and asked to have the barricade moved to let me through. He gave me a single order: “Don’t go anywhere.”
He stayed on the same side of the barricade as the fans, who were falling all over themselves to hug him and pose with him. The girls waiting to see him had forgotten me as they kept their laser eyes locked on him. The girls who had already had their Adam time all stared at me with their mouths open. This rumor would cross the ocean before we’d crossed the parking lot. I knew Adam had to know it was a possibility. And yet he’d kissed me in public before his most ardent fans.
My stomach flipped. I gawked at him, no better than one of the fans. Hell, I’d been one of them for the past several hours. No better than a stalker.
At last, he was finished greeting fans, and he twined his fingers through mine and led me toward the buses. As we neared the one he’d pointed the groupie to, I naturally drifted in that direction out of muscle memory. His bus usually sat on one end. When I tugged slightly, he yanked me back. “My bus is over here.”
He snaked his arm around my waist and squeezed me against him. “So how’d you wind up in Spain?”
I looped my finger into one of his belt loops. His body felt amazing. “I had an epiphany.”
“Clue me in.”
“I lost my job, gave away my apartment, and couldn’t get another.” Still giddy from before, I chuckled at how awful everything was. “Instead of looking for work, I took a risk and started pursuing the life I’ve always dreamed of—making a career out of music. I tried to play my own music, but I couldn’t get a single decent gig. Needless to say, it hasn’t panned out, yet.”
He stopped outside the bus doors. “So I was your backup?”
“God, no.” I leaned against the metal paneling. The vibrations from the motor purred through my shoulders. “I hated my job, and I no longer belonged in New Jersey. It turns out what I’d always thought would be this huge risk wasn’t a risk at all. I’m not homeless or broke. I have Micah’s apartment and savings in the bank. And the gigs will come. Thanks to you, I believe in myself enough to keep plugging at it. I’ll start at the bottom and work my way up.”
Adam lifted my hand and kissed the tips of my fingers. “I’d like to do that right now.”
Chills shot up my arm, but I had more to say, the hardest thing yet. I sucked in my lower lip and worked up my courage. “I figured out that this drastic life change wasn’t what scared me most.” I swallowed. “Adam, ever since I found out about all this”—I rolled my hands to indicate the tour bus, the arena, the rock-star persona I’d gotten mixed up with—“I’ve been terrified of letting you see how much I wanted to be with you. I was afraid of scaring you.”
“Scaring me?”
“Adam, you couldn’t possibly need me as much as I need you. Everyone wants you.”
“But they don’t want me, Eden. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain. I’d rather be alone than adored, or used, or even loved for anything other than who I am.”
“And I’ve been worrying that you only liked me because of some cheap trick.”
He grazed my lips with his. “I think our chemistry speaks for itself.”
I closed my eyes, wanting to say it all before the moment passed. “The paranoia played into every fear I had about you, on tour, with Adrianna, even when you were with me.”
“Adrianna?”
“Even Adrianna. Mostly Adrianna. I constantly feared I’d lose you when you figured out you’d been unwittingly seduced.”
He put one hand above my shoulder, against the bus, and leaned in. “Eden, the minute I laid eyes on you, you knocked the wind out of me. Believe me when I tell you, I was quite wittingly seduced.”
“After you called me from Monaco, it finally clicked. If I don’t let go of myself, I’m going to lose you. And you’re the one thing I want. And that’s why I came to Spain—to put my trust in you.”
He bent forward and kissed my forehead. “Eden, that’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear you say. And I’m sorry, too. I know I should’ve trusted you, but I’m far from perfect.”
“Do you forgive me?”
“I already did. Come on, it’s freezing.”
He climbed up two steps at a time and said, “Townsend, McCord, go ride the other bus.”
Mark stuck his head out of the folding doors and stared at me. His shoulders slumped, and he exhaled. “Seriously, Adam? One second.” He ducked in and returned with a duffel bag.
“Hi, Eden. What’re you doing here?”
Charles followed, grumbling. “There’s no room on the other bus.”
Adam didn’t take his eyes off me. “So go get a hotel. We’re not going anywhere tonight.”
“Why don’t you two go get a hotel? I was almost asleep.”
Adam ignored their griping and pressed his body hard against mine while Mark and Charles cleared out.
As we climbed aboard, I remembered. “My stuff’s at the hotel.”
“It’s okay. Seamus can get it in the morning before we go to the airport.”
The doors closed, and he put his arms around my waist and slowly walked me backward down the aisle. I took one step at a time, deliberate, not wanting to move so fast as to put any distance between our bodies. His lips brushed against the top of my head, and his hands slid down my sides. “I’ve fantasized about this every night since we’ve been on the road.”
Although everything seemed the same as before, there were subtle differences. The fabric on the benches was the wrong color orange. The curtain between the front and back parted as my shoulders split the fabric and my legs hit the edge of the platform bed.
It was a different curtain.
Realization hit me hard. “This isn’t the bus we were on before.”
Adam lifted me up and then followed. He lay down, but I stayed upright, legs crisscrossed, facing him in the darkness. Through the window, I could see roadies dragging equipment to the gear bus. “Why are you on this bus, Adam?”
“Someone else got my bus.” He reached over and laid his hand on my thigh.
Images of him and that blond groupie riding that bus together for however many days, fucking, always fucking, crossed my mind. “Shit. I’m an idiot.”
He broke contact with me and rolled up onto his elbow. “What?”
“That girl I saw you with. God, I’m such a fool.” My first inclination was to bolt. I started to drag myself out of the alcove, but Adam put his hand on my forearm.
He sat up. “Eden, do you trust me?”
My eyes involuntarily returned to his face, and I focused on him. “I want to, Adam. But I don’t understand. Why’s she riding your bus?”
“Listen. I’ve never lied to you.”
“Never lied. But you’re the master of omission, Adam. What haven’t you told me?” I scooted back against the wall, scared of hearing what I didn’t want to know.
His eyes moved back and forth, gazing into mine. Finally, he t
ook a deep breath and let it out through his lips. “Don’t ever tell Micah I told you.”
Oh, God. “What do you mean?” I caught my breath. “Micah’s got a groupie?”
He burst out laughing. “Yeah. Micah’s got a groupie. Her name’s Anna. Nice girl. I’ve been riding this bus with Mark and Charles for a week now.”
I sat for a minute, processing. “Why was she with you, then?”
“She wanted to use the showers.”
“Oh.” I believed him. The road was a dirty place to be. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I get so jealous. I saw that girl walking with you, and it reminded me of us in Paris. And I just thought . . . I assumed—”
“You never need to worry about the groupies. But before, when you said you were jealous of Adrianna . . . Is that true?”
The back of the bus was dark, quiet except for the purring of the motor, intimate. Adam’s form was an outline, illuminated only by the industrial fluorescent lights of the parking lot. A perfect setting for baring one’s soul.
“Adam, you can’t deny there’s something between you and Adrianna. She calls you to New York for some emergency, and you drop everything and go. Then she thumbs a ride with you to Ireland and shows up in London.” I twisted the fabric on the mattress. “It’s hard not to feel a little jealous.”
The shadows playing on his face reminded me of the first night we met. His hood had been pulled up, obscuring his features. For the first time, it became clear he’d been trying to hide his identity that night. But he hadn’t hidden from me.
“Adrianna’s a good friend, and she’ll always be a part of my life, Eden. But you don’t need to feel jealous of her.”
“Why’d you both take so long to put an end to the rumor you were a couple, then?”
He put his hand over mine. “Actually, that day I met her in New York, I told her about you. I wanted to put an end to that stupid rumor, then. But she’d called me there, freaking out about another tabloid making accusations that she’s transgendered.”
I remembered thinking the same thing when I first saw her. “Is she?”
He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t answer my question, exactly. “Eden. It’s hard enough being a public figure without having your identity subverted as well. We thought a fictional relationship would give her a place to hide for a while.”
“That kind of backfired for you though, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. The media only became more interested in me. And I’d kind of hoped a fake engagement might discourage groupies, but the fan girls never stop pursuing me.”
“Ouch.” The ache of jealousy was becoming a familiar friend.
“Single, engaged, or married, I’m going to be turning down unwanted advances until I’m no longer selling records. Or dead.” He stroked my thumb with his. “Comes with the territory, unfortunately. Trust is going to be critical, Eden. I can’t promise you’ll never have reason to doubt me. The gossip columns will make sure of that. I can promise I won’t give you any reason to doubt me.”
I wanted to trust him, but he’d sidestepped me again. “You’ve still avoided my first question, Adam. What stopped you from ending the rumors?”
“I’m getting there. When I told Adrianna I wanted to, she reminded me I was about to go on an extended tour in Europe. She pointed out that as soon as we made any kind of announcement, someone would get curious and sniff you out. And I didn’t think you were ready to be shoved into the limelight yet. She suggested we keep up the pretense a little while longer to distract the media away from digging into your personal life until you and I had a chance to figure things out.”
“But the tabloids did investigate me after you took me to dinner. Reporters came to my work place.”
His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “And then they quit. Think of it like an inoculation. The reporters did a little digging, and when they found nothing, they left you alone. Or at least they would have if I hadn’t let down my guard in Germany.”
I drew up my knees and wrapped my arms around my legs. “I liked it when you let down your guard. It felt nice to be out in the open with you like that for a change.”
“Yeah. I liked it, too. It made it that much harder after you left.”
“You could’ve called me. I wanted you to call.”
He shook his head. “When you got in that limo in Copenhagen, I thought that was it. I was going to have to become a celibate monk.”
I laughed despite myself. “That would’ve been a tragedy.”
He crawled across the mattress and propped himself next to me, his face inches from mine. “Speaking of tragic celibacy, can we talk about all this later?”
He brushed his lips against my neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps. I picked up the edge of his shirt and touched his side until I found his ribs. “Mmm. Adam’s ribs.”
Clothes fell to the wayside, and when I slid off his leather pants, he had nothing on underneath.
“Did they steal your underwear again?”
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he pushed me onto my back and gazed into my eyes with dangerous intent.
“Adam,” I ran my finger down his stomach. “Are there any condoms on this bus?”
“Oh, fuck!” He jumped up and threw on some boxers. “I’ll be right back.”
I lay in the dark, in his tour bus, listening to the double doors open and close, hearing the few remaining fans squealing at the sight of a half-naked Adam Copeland running from one bus to another across the parking lot. I hoped one of the other guys was better prepared than Adam.
Epilogue
Tobin stood onstage in front of the wall-to-wall crowd. I knew they were all there hoping to catch a glimpse of Adam, but I wouldn’t regret an audience member, whatever reason had brought them out to see me perform. And for all they knew, he wasn’t even there. I’d played my first set to a great reception. My new CD had just been released, and while I didn’t get any spins on radio, yet, our agent, Jane, thought it was only a matter of time. With some touring at smaller clubs and radio stations across the country, I might be able to support it enough to push my single “Just Me” onto the charts.
For now, I was content to be sitting on a stool, strumming my guitar, singing almost every night. Tobin was happy to have me come back to headline the Friday night show. I hadn’t played here in several months.
I pulled my stool up to the mic and scanned the expectant faces. This part never grew old. Whenever Adam had a night free and we were in the same town, he’d try to drop in on my shows. And I did the same for him. Not that people obsessed over my schedule to find out when I might show up in an arena the way they’d follow Adam’s movements. They’d go out of their way for a chance to see him perform in a small club.
The second microphone sat beside me the entire show, like a promise. And when I started out, “Friends, it’s with great pleasure”—the audience erupted with delight—“that I invite Adam Copeland to join me for the next set.”
These were special nights because we were able to try out the songs we were writing for our collaboration CD. Adam bounded onto the stage, grabbed his guitar, and slid onto the stool next to me. “Thank you. It’s always a privilege to perform with Eden.”
He strummed, and I came in with my arpeggios. And we sang in harmony.
The song told the story of Tristan and Iseult on the surface, bonded together through the love potion they’d taken by mistake. We’d twisted it enough to tell of a magnetism that couldn’t be broken, despite the physical distances brought on by touring, despite the misunderstandings the gossip columns tried to fan, and despite a history filled with doubts and mistrust in the powerful strength of that bond. His voice still gave me chills. And it turned me on like nothing else.
Tonight, we’d get to sleep in our own bed in our walk-up in Brooklyn. But when the set ended, and Adam walked offstage, I knew we’d never make it back to the apartment. The fans would have to wait in line until we came out to greet them. That nasty sofa was about to get a
little nastier. I made a mental note to buy Tobin some new furniture.
But whenever Adam performed with me, the demand for an encore was overwhelming. Our shenanigans would have to wait another song. And since we knew they’d likely demand it, we always saved “Compulsion” for last. We’d released it as a single last December, a few weeks prior to Christmas, and it was a surprise holiday hit. The naughty but religious message dovetailed with other Christmas love songs, and we’d performed it live on a number of TV shows.
I left the stage and met Adam in the green room. He pushed me against the closed door and kissed me hard to the backdrop of fans stomping on the floor, yelling for us to come back out.
My hands dug into that mess of hair. “We could make them wait ten more minutes?”
He crushed against me. “Yeah? Don’t you think they might crash down the door if we don’t get back out there? And besides, I’m not done singing with you tonight.”
I let go of him, and he straightened up. I glanced in the mirror hanging on the green-room bathroom door. “Oh, God. I have lip hickeys.”
Adam opened the green-room door, and I followed him out and up onstage to a loud cheer that broke as we grabbed our guitars. My hand caught on something along the neck, and I cast my gaze down, expecting to find a capo attached. This song didn’t require one though, so I reached to unclip it. But instead, I found a small box tied by a ribbon. Perplexed, I looked up at Adam, who stood with his eyes wide.
I untied the ribbon and pulled the box off the guitar. He took it from my shaking hands and popped it open. And then he knelt. I nearly passed out, but the audience broke out in applause.
The microphone had been adjusted to his kneeling height, and as he spoke, his words carried through the entire room.
“Eden Sinclair. I met you here one year ago tonight. Somewhere between the merchandise and paradise.” He chuckled at his own bad rhyme. “Somehow I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were something different, something special, one in a million. And thankfully, you saw past all this”—he gestured to himself—“and fell for me, too. The loneliest I’ve ever been in my entire life was when I thought I might’ve lost you. I want you by my side. Always. Eden, will you marry me?”
Some Kind of Magic Page 27