by Scott, Kylie
Ted cleared his throat and looked down at me over the top of his glasses. “It would be unwise of you to try and press for more given the circumstances, Ms Thomas. A six-hour marriage in Las Vegas entered into while you were both heavily under the influence of alcohol? Textbook grounds for annulment.”
Ted’s cronies tittered and I felt my face fire up. My need to accidentally kick the prick under the table grew and grew.
“My client will not be making another offer.”
“I don’t want him to make another offer,” I said, my voice rising.
“The annulment will go ahead, Ms Thomas,” said Ted. “There is no question of that. There will be no reconciliation.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
Ted sighed. “We need to finalize this today, Ms Thomas.”
“I’m not trying to hold anything up, Ted.”
The other two lawyers watched me with distaste, backing up Ted with sleazy, knowing smiles. Nothing pissed me off faster than a bunch of people trying to intimidate someone. Bullies had made my life hell back in high school. And really, that’s all these people were.
Adrian gave me a big-toothed, faux-fatherly grin. “I’m sure Ev can see how kind David’s being. There are not going to be any delays here, are there?”
These people, they blew my mind. Speaking of which, I had to wonder where my darling husband was. Too busy banging bikini models to turn up to his own divorce, the poor guy. I pushed back my fringe, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Trying to get my anger managed. “Wait—”
“We all just want what’s best for you given the unfortunate situation,” Adrian continued, obviously lying through his big, bright teeth.
“Great,” I said, fingers fidgeting beneath the table. “That’s … that’s really great of you.”
“Please, Ms Thomas.” Ted tapped his pen imperiously alongside a figure on the paperwork and I dutifully looked, though I didn’t want to. There were lots of zeroes. I mean, really a lot. It was insane. In two lifetimes I couldn’t earn that kind of money. David must have wanted me gone something fierce. My stomach rumbled nervously but my puking days were over. The whole scene felt horrific, like something out of a bad B-grade movie or soap opera. Girl from the wrong side of the tracks hijacks hot, rich guy and tricks him into marriage. Now all that was left was for him to use his people to chase me off into the sunset.
Well, he won.
“This was all just a mistake,” said Adrian. “I’m sure Ev is every bit as keen to put it behind her as David is. And with this generous financial settlement she can move forward to a bright future.”
“You’ll also never attempt to make contact with Mr Ferris ever again, in any manner. Any attempt on your part to do so will see you in breach of contract.” Ted withdrew his pen, sitting back in his seat with a false smile and his hands crossed over his belly. “Is that clear?”
“No,” I said, scrubbing my face with my hands. They actually thought I’d fall over myself to get at that money. Money I’d done nothing to earn, no matter how tempting accepting it was. Of course, they also thought I’d sell my story to the press and harass David every spare moment I got for the rest of my life. They thought I was cheap, trashy scum. “I think I can honestly say that nothing about this is clear.”
“Ev, please.” Adrian gave me a disappointed look. “Let’s be reasonable.”
“I’ll tell you what …” I stood and retrieved the ring from my jeans pocket, throwing it onto the sea of paperwork. “You give this back to David and tell him I don’t want any of it. None of this.” I gestured at them, the table, the papers, and the entire damn house. The lawyers looked nervously among themselves as if they’d need more paperwork before they could allow me to go waving my arms about in such a disorderly fashion.
“Ev …”
“I don’t want to sell his story, or stalk him, or whatever else you have buried in subclause 98.2. I don’t want his money.”
Adrian coughed out a laugh. Fuck him. The phony bastard could think what he liked.
Ted frowned at my big sparkly ring lying innocently among the mess. “Mr Ferris didn’t mention a ring.”
“No? Well. Why don’t you tell Mr Ferris he can shove it wherever he feels it might best fit, Ted.”
“Ms Thomas!” Ted stood, his puffy face outraged. “That is unnecessary.”
“Going to have to disagree with you there, Ted.” I bolted out of the dining room of death and made straight for the front door as fast as my feet could carry me. Immediate escape was the only answer. If I could just get the hell away from them long enough to catch my breath I could come up with a new plan to deal with this ridiculous situation. I’d be fine.
A brand new black Jeep pulled up as I tore down the front steps.
The window lowered to show my guide from last night, Mal, sitting in the driver’s seat. He smirked from behind black sunglasses. “Hey there, child bride.”
I flipped him the finger and jogged down the long, winding driveway toward the front gates. Toward liberty and freedom and my old life, or whatever remained of it. If only I’d never gone to Vegas. If only I’d tried harder to convince Lauren that a party at home would be fine, none of this would have happened. God, I was such an idiot. Why had I drunk so much?
“Ev. Hold up.” Mal pulled up alongside me in his Jeep. “What’s wrong? Where’re you going?”
I didn’t answer. I was done with all of them. That and I had the worst feeling I was about to cry, damn it. My eyes felt hot, horrible.
“Stop.” He pulled the brake and climbed out of the Jeep, running after me. “Hey, I’m sorry.”
I said nothing. I had nothing to say to any of them.
His hand wrapped around my arm gently, but I didn’t care. I swung at him. I’d never hit anyone in my life. Apparently, I wasn’t about to start now. He dodged my flying fist with ease.
“Whoa! Okay.” Mal danced back a step, giving me a wary look over the top of his shades. “You’re mad. I get it.”
Hands on hips, he looked back toward the house. Ted and Adrian stood on the front steps, staring after us. Even from this distance the dynamic duo did not appear happy. Evil bastards.
Mal hissed out a breath. “You’re fucking joking. He sicced that ball-sucker Ted onto you?”
I nodded, blinking, trying to get myself under control.
“Did you have anyone with you?” he asked.
“No.”
He cocked his head. “Are you going to cry?”
“No!”
“Fuck. Come on.” He held out his hand to me and I stared at in disbelief. “Ev, think. There’re photographers and shit waiting out front. Even if you get past them, where are you going to go?”
He was right. I had to go back, get my bag. So stupid of me not to have thought of it. Just as soon as I had myself under control I’d go in and retrieve it, then get the hell out of here. I fanned my face with my hands, took a big breath. All good.
Meanwhile, his hand hovered, waiting. There were a couple of small blisters on it, situated in the join between thumb and finger. Curious.
“Are you the drummer?” I asked with a sniff.
For some reason he cracked up laughing, almost doubling over, clutching at his belly. Maybe he was on drugs or something. Or maybe he was just one more lunatic in this gigantic asylum. Batman would have had a hard time keeping this place in check.
“What is your problem?” I asked, taking a step away from him. Just in case.
His snazzy sunglasses fell off, clattering on the asphalt. He swiped them up and shoved them back on his face. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a house at the beach. We’ll hide out there. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
I hesitated, giving the jerks on the front steps a lethal look. “Why would you help me?”
“Because you’re worth helping.”
“Oh, really? Why would you think that?”
“You wouldn’t like my answer.”
&
nbsp; “I haven’t liked a single answer I’ve had all morning, why stop now?”
He smiled. “Fair enough. I’m David’s oldest friend. We’ve gotten drunk and out of control more times than I can remember. He’s had girls angling to snare him for years, even before we had money. He never was the slightest bit interested in marriage. It was never even on his radar before. So the fact that he married you, well, that suggests to me you’re worth helping. Come on, Ev. Stop worrying.”
Easy for him to say, his life hadn’t been skewered by a rock star.
“I need to get my stuff.”
“And get cornered by them? Worry about it later.” He held his hand out, fingers beckoning for mine. “Let’s get out of here.”
I put my hand in his and we went.
CHAPTER SIX
“So, hang on, this song isn’t about his dog dying or something?”
“You’re not funny,” I laughed.
“I so am.” Mal sniggered at the opposite end of the couch as Tim McGraw let rip about his kind of rain on the flat screen TV taking up the opposite wall. “Why do they all wear such big hats, do you think? I have a theory.”
“Shush.”
The way these people lived blew my tiny little mind. Mal, short for Malcolm, lived in a place at the beach that was mostly a three-story architectural feat of steel and glass. It was amazing. Not ridiculously huge like the place in the hills, but awe-inspiring just the same. My Dad would have been in raptures over the minimalism of it, the cleanliness of the lines or some such. I just appreciated having a friend in my time of need.
Mal’s house was clearly a bachelor pad-slash-den of iniquity. I’d had a vague notion to make lunch to thank him for taking me in but there wasn’t a single speck of food in the house. Beer filled the fridge and vodka the freezer. Oh, no, there was a bag of oranges used as wedges to go with shots of vodka, apparently. He’d ruled out touching those. His super slick coffee machine, however, made everything right. He even had decent beans. I wowed him by busting out a few of my barista moves. After drinking three cups in the space of an hour, I felt a lot more like my old well-planned, caffeinated self.
Mal dialed for pizza and we watched TV late into the night. Mostly he found his joy in mocking my taste in pretty much everything: movies, music, the lot. At least he did it good-naturedly. We couldn’t go outside because a couple of photographers were waiting on the beach. I felt bad about it but he’d just shrugged it off.
“What about this song?” he asked. “You like this?”
Miranda Lambert strode on screen in a cool ’50s frock and I grinned. “Miranda is mighty.”
“I’ve met her.”
I sat up straight. “Really?”
More sniggering from Mal. “You’re impressed I’ve met Miranda Lambert but you didn’t even know who I was. Honestly, woman, you are hard on the ego.”
“I saw the gold and platinum records lining the hallway, buddy. I’m thinking you can take it.”
He snorted.
“You know, you remind me a lot of my brother.” I almost managed to duck the bottle cap he flicked at me. It bounced off my forehead. “What was that for?”
“Can’t you at least pretend to worship me?”
“No. Sorry.”
With total disregard for my Lambert love, Mal started surfing the channels. Home shopping, football, Gone with the Wind, and me. Me on TV.
“Wait,” I said.
He groaned. “Not a good idea.”
First my school pictures paraded past, followed by one of Lauren and me at our senior prom. They even had a reporter standing across the road from Ruby’s, prattling on about my life before being elevated to the almighty status of David’s wife. And then there was the man himself in some concert footage, guitar in his hands as he sang backup. The lyrics were your typical my-woman-is-mean, “She’s my one and only, she’s got me on my knees …” I wondered if he’d write songs about me. If so, odds were they’d be highly uncomplimentary. “Shit.” I hugged a couch cushion tight to my chest.
Mal leaned over and fluffed my hair. “David’s the favorite, darlin’. He’s pretty, plays guitar, and writes the songs. Girlies faint when he walks by. Team that with your being a young ’un and you’ve got the news of the week.”
“I’m twenty-one.”
“And he’s twenty-six. It’s enough of a difference if they hype it just right.” Mal sighed. “Face it, child bride. You got married in Vegas by an Elvis impersonator to one of rock ’n’ roll’s favorite sons. It was always bound to cause a shit storm. Given there’s also been some crap going on with the band lately … what with Jimmy partying like it’s 1999 and Dave losing his music-writing mojo. Well, you get the picture. But next week, someone else will do something wacky and all the attention will move on.”
“I guess so.”
“I know so. People are constantly fucking up. It’s a glorious thing.” He sat back with his hands behind his head. “Go on, smile for Uncle Mal. You know you want to.”
I smiled half-heartedly.
“That’s a bullshit smile and I’m ashamed of you. You’re not going to fool anyone with that. Try again.”
I tried harder, smiling ’til my cheeks hurt.
“Damn. Now you just look like you’re in pain.”
Banging on the front door interrupted our merriment.
Mal raised his brows at me. “Wondered how long he’d take.”
“What?” I trailed him to the front door, lurking behind a divider just in case it was more press.
He opened the door and David charged in, face tight and furious. “You piece of shit. You better not have touched her. Where is she?”
“The child bride is otherwise occupied.” Mal cocked his head, taking David in with a cool glance. “Why the fuck do you even care?”
“Don’t start with me. Where is she?”
Quietly, Mal shut the door, facing off against his friend. I hesitated, hanging back. Alright, so I skulked in a cowardly fashion. Whatever.
Mal crossed his arms. “You left her to face Adrian and three lawyers on her own. You, my friend, are most definitely the piece of shit in this particular scenario.”
“I didn’t know Adrian would go at her with all that.”
“You didn’t want to know,” said Mal. “Lie to everyone else out there, Dave. Not me. And sure as fuck not to yourself.”
“Back off.”
“You need some serious life advice, friend.”
“Who are you, Oprah?”
Coughing out a laugh, Mal slumped against the wall. “Hell, yeah. Soon I’m gonna be giving out cars, so stick around.”
“What did she say?”
“Who, Oprah?”
David just scowled at him. He didn’t even notice me spying. Sad to say, even a scowling David was a thing of rare beauty. He did things to me. Complicated things. My heart tripped about in my chest. The anger and emotion in his voice couldn’t be concern for me. That made no sense, not after last night and this morning. I had to be projecting and it sucked that I even wanted him to care. My head made no sense. Getting away from this guy was the safest option all round.
“Dave, she was so upset she took a swing at me.”
“Bullshit.”
“I kid you not. She was nearly in tears when I found her,” said Mal.
I banged my forehead in silent agony against the wall. Why the hell did Mal have to tell him that?
My husband hung his head. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“Seems you didn’t mean for a shitload to happen.” Mal shook his head and tutted. “Did you even mean to marry her, dude? Seriously?”
David’s face screwed up, his brow doing the wrinkly James Dean thing again. “I don’t know anymore, okay? Fuck. I went to Vegas because I was so sick of all this shit and I met her. She was different. She seemed different that night. I just … I wanted something outside of all this fucking idiocy for a change.”
“Poor Davey. Did being a rock god get old?�
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“Where is she?”
“I feel your manpain, bro. Really, I do. I mean, all you wanted was a girl that wouldn’t kiss your ass for once and now you’re pissed at her for the same damn reason. It’s complicated, right?”
“Fuck you. Leave it alone, Mal. It’s done.” My husband huffed out a breath. “Anyway, she’s the one who wanted the fucking divorce. Why aren’t you giving her the third degree, huh?”
With a dramatic sigh, Mal flung out his arms. “Because she’s really busy hiding around the corner, listening. I can’t disturb her now.”
David’s body stilled and his blue eyes found me. “Evelyn.”
Huh. Busted.
I stepped away from the wall and tried to put on a happy face. It didn’t work. “Hi.”
“She says that so well.” Mal turned to me and winked. “So did you really ask the mighty David Ferris for a divorce?”
“She threw up on me when I told her we were married,” my husband reported.
“What?” Mal dissolved into laughter, tears leaking from his eyes. “Are you serious? Fucking hell, that is fantastic. Oh, man, I wish I’d been there.”
I gave David what I hoped to be the meanest look in all of time and space. He stared back, unimpressed.
“It was the floor,” I clarified. “I didn’t throw up on him.”
“That time,” said David.
“Please keep going,” said Mal, laughing harder than ever. “This just gets better and better.”
David didn’t. Thank God.
“Seriously, I fucking love your wife, man. She’s awesome. Can I have her?”
The look I got from David spoke of a much more reluctant affection. With the line between his brows, it was closer to outright irritation. I blew him a kiss. He looked away, hands fisted like he was barely holding himself back from throttling me. The feeling was entirely mutual.
Ah, marital bliss.
“You two are just the best.” A chiming sound came from Mal’s pocket and he pulled out a cell phone. Whatever he saw on the screen stopped his laughter dead. “You know, you should take her to your house, Dave.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” David’s mouth pulled wide in a truly pained expression.