by M. H. Soars
“Oh, I hope not by a girlfriend.” She smiles and peers at me through her fake eyelashes. Fuck, she’s flirting with me.
“Nope. Business.” I shift where I stand and look around, showing how not interested I am. I hope she gets the message.
“Me, too. Are you here alone? I wouldn’t mind some company.”
Jeez, straight for the kill. It’s not something I’m not used to, but I would pass her proposition even if I was available. She has a weird vibe. I’m about to refuse her invitation when I feel a pair of eyes burning a hole through my skull. I turn and find Saylor a few steps back. She’s rooted to the spot, frowning at me, right before her gaze shifts to the woman by my side—I already forgot her name. I don’t know what Saylor sees, but her face goes as white as a sheet of paper. Without a word, she walks away.
“A friend of yours?” the woman asks.
I don’t bother answering and go after Saylor, but I lose her in the crowd. Then a waiter jumps to a small podium in the center of the room and announces we can now enter the dining area. I search for Allan, but he must still be in the green room. I find Liv instead, looking all professional with a headset on her head and a tablet in her hand.
“Hey, Liv. How’s it going?”
She looks up and and greets me with a smile. “Ollie, I’m so glad you could make it. Thanks for letting Wreck of the Day play here. You were a life saver.”
“Not a problem. I haven’t seen Bas. Is he coming?”
Liv scrunches up her nose. “No. He wanted to, but I asked him to stay home. He’d be a distraction.”
I sense a note of tension in her answer and I file that away to ask Bas later. They just got back from their honeymoon. They can’t possibly be having problems already.
“Alright then. I’ll leave you to it. I’d better find my seat.”
I’m relieved when I find Allan already at our table. I don’t think I could handle making small talk with a bunch of strangers. The dinner goes by in a blur. I barely notice the food they serve, but I make sure my glass is never empty. I’m counting the minutes until Wreck of the Day’s performance. That’s why I’m here, after all.
Twelve
SAYLOR
No one notices that I’m having a mini freak out moment when I return to the green room. I stepped out for a minute in search of Liv, but instead I found Oliver talking to a ghost from my past. Even if I hadn’t Googled my biological father when I found out about him, I would have recognized her. The resemblance is uncanny. No wonder Daddy dearest worked so hard to keep my face out of the papers. It wouldn’t take much for people to make the connection. What is my freaking sister—I mean, half sister, doing here?
Vanessa Holloway is the epitome of the perfect daughter, at least that’s what I could grasp once I came across her name in my search. She went to the best private schools, and graduated from an Ivy League university. She was everything I would never be, nor had the desire to be.
The question that keeps bouncing in my head is whether she knows about me or not? I doubt the Senator told her about his sordid past, but if I can see the resemblance between us, so can she. Did Oliver see that too? Was he attracted to her? Ugh. Stupid questions that shouldn’t even be running in my head.
“Hey, are you okay?” Tabatha touches my arm to catch my attention.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Leaning closer so she can whisper in my ear, she continues, “Blue, you have to tell me when you are not feeling well, okay?”
I plaster a fake smile on my face. For once, it’s not the damned clot in my head that’s messing up my life.
“I promise I’m fine. It’s just…”
Understanding dawns on her face. “Shit. It’s him, isn’t it? You fell for the guy.”
I shake my head, but it’s futile to deny it. Even a blind person could sense the crackling energy when Oliver is near me.
“I’ll be fine. I just need to put on a good show. Music always fixes everything.”
A strange glint shines in Tabatha’s eyes. “Yes, music can perform miracles.”
There’s no time to analyze what Tabatha meant because Liv comes in next to explain the rundown of things. She’s in the zone, extra professional, even if a tad stressed. I make a mental note to drag her with us after the gala for drinks. My friend needs some down time.
There’s no introduction before we go up on the stage, we’re nobodies after all, just the hired band. Since we can’t play any of our original songs, our repertoire consists of classic pop and rock songs that appeal to everyone. I’m glad we don’t end up playing to the walls and people actually take the dance floor. As gigs go, this isn’t bad, but I hope it’s the last. Wreck of the Day is meant for bigger things.
After the show, Oliver and Allan come talk to us, as we had arranged before. They’re going to pretend this is the first time they’ve seen us play live. Such bullshit, but whatever. I know nothing about Marketing and PR. The whole time, Oliver can’t take his eyes off of me. His gaze is making me all hot and bothered and I hate it. When I can’t stand it any longer, I practically run back to the green room to collect my stuff. I need to get out of here, otherwise I’m going to combust on the spot. I don’t see my half sister again, which is a blessing.
I hid my oversized bag behind some chairs because I don’t trust security anywhere. I quickly look inside to make sure my wallet and cellphone are still there. That’s when I find an envelope. Curious, I pull it out. My name is written in neat capital letters on the back, with no hint to who it’s from. I rip the paper and I find a single note inside.
“I know your secret.”
I snort and think which one? I’ve got so many it’s getting harder and harder to keep up. This feels very much like a prank. I casually turn the note to look at the back before I toss it into the garbage bin, when I see the second part of the message scribbled there in a much messier handwriting.
“You and the ginger will pay for your deception.”
My stomach bottoms out and I can’t get any air into my lungs. I let the note slide through my fingers. This is not a prank. Someone out there knows that I lied to the police. They know that Mandy was somehow involved. What do they mean we will pay for it?
Panic seizes me and my vision becomes fuzzy. I was having such a good day, no migraine spells, no sickness. I take two wobbly steps toward the nearest chair and collapse on it, feeling my world go off kilter. If I close my eyes the dizziness will get worse. I drop my head between my shoulders and force air into my lungs. My heart is racing and there’s a big lump stuck in my throat. What am I going to do?
I hear the door open, but I can’t look up to see who just came in. Footsteps approach and a pair of expensive looking leather shoes appear in my line of vision. I don’t need to bring my gaze up to know Oliver is standing in front of me.
“Saylor?”
My heartbeat increases, and there’s elation there competing with the panic from before.
“What?” I try to put a bite in my response but it’s a feeble attempt.
He crouches in front of me and my gaze automatically seeks his. I don’t find a devil-may-care attitude there, but worry mixed with pure longing. I take him by surprise—and myself—when I jump into his arms, holding on to him as if he is a lifeline. There’s no hesitation on his part. His strong arms wrap around me, keeping me tight against his chest. I take a whiff of the smell that’s solely his, the scent triggering the most wonderful memories, and I melt into him. I can feel the drum of his heart going at the same warped speed as mine. How did I ever think I could turn my back to this, to him?
OLIVER
I give Saylor a few minutes before I go after her. She bailed too fast after her concert and she didn’t grant me the chance to congratulate her properly. Plus, I bet the green room will be empty right now. I should maintain my distance, keep the indifference field up, but I’m not one known for controlling my impulses.
I find her sitting on one of the folding chairs at the back of the
room with her head lowered. Not a big deal but the fact she barely moves to the sound of the door opening makes me suspicious. Also, the noticeable rise and fall of her hunched back tells me she’s taking deep breaths, as if she’s having trouble breathing. Fuck. She has health issues, that I know, but she never trusted me enough to tell me exactly what they were. Not knowing drives me insane.
I close the door behind me and walk toward her. “Saylor?”
She doesn’t look up and her lack of response doubles my worries. I crouch in front of her and finally, I see some movement on her part. She lifts her head and looks straight into my eyes. I’m gutted when I read fear in her beautiful gaze.
“What?” she asks, trying to sound annoyed, but failing miserably at it.
I’m taken over by a crazy impulse. I want to pull Saylor into my arms and protect her from whatever made her look so frightened. I’m a split second from doing so when she jumps into my arms, catching me by surprise. I fall onto my arse but my arms wrap around her lithe body, keeping her locked tight against my chest. My heart feels like it’s going to explode the way it’s beating at lightning speed. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m not stupid enough to believe Saylor has had a change of heart. So I don’t say anything and wait for her to make the first move.
We stay in that position for minutes, hours, not nearly long enough. She eventually pulls back, takes a quick look at my face, then slides off of my lap.
“I’m sorry about that.” She stands up and fixes the full skirt of her dress, still not making eye contact.
I get up as well. “Do you want to tell me what just happened here?”
She brings a shaking hand to her forehead to rub it. “Not really.”
I clench my jaw and count to ten silently, trying to keep a level head, but it’s impossible. “So, what am I? A warm body for you to use and discard as you see fit?”
She whips her face in my direction, her eyes going wide. “Of course not.”
“Really? I’m beginning to see a pattern here.”
“We both agreed it was one week, Ollie.”
The fact she just slipped and used my nickname works like a charm in melting some of my frustration and anger.
“Right. God forbid a change of plans.”
She grabs her bag from the floor with a jerky movement and hoists the strap over her shoulder. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”
She steps to the side to walk around me, but I hold her arm. “Fine. Let’s not have this conversation. How about this? You work for me now, so I’m holding off any activity that involves physical exertion until I see your clean bill of health. That includes future shows and your music clip with Scott Rowan.”
“What? You can’t do that.”
“Are you certain? It’s my responsibility to make sure all talent can perform their tasks without putting themselves or others at risk.”
She pulls her arm from my grasp and levels me with a glare. “You’re such a jerk!”
“We established that the first time we met, didn’t we, darling?”
Saylor opens her mouth, then clamps it shut again, clenching her jaw. Without another word, she stomps out of the green room and I don’t feel an ounce of remorse for pulling such a douche move. I need to know if she’s okay, otherwise I’ll go out of my mind.
Thirteen
SAYLOR
I had plans to go out with the girls after the charity event, but with my frayed state of mind, I head straight home, calling Mandy on the way there. That note left me more worried about her than me. I can fend for myself, but who’s going to protect her?
She’s in high spirits on the phone, super excited about her classes this semester. The therapy is working. I decide not to set her back by talking about the note. I can’t do that to her. It could very well be a prank.
By the next day, I’ve already convinced myself the note was most likely from one of Connor’s former flings. I believe I did see one waitress last night who used to have a crush on him. There’s absolutely no way someone knows the truth about the attack. The only person who could have babbled is long dead.
That leaves Oliver’s crazy demand to occupy my mind and I find myself burning a hole through Tabatha’s living room floor the next day as I pace back and forth.
“He has no right demanding that, no right,” I say again for the umpteenth time.
“Actually, by the way he phrased it, he kind of does.”
I turn to glare at her. “Whose side are you on anyway?”
“Yours, of course.”
I resume pacing. “What am I going to do?”
“Uh, how about telling him the truth?”
I freeze mid-step. The thought has crossed my mind. But Oliver isn’t stupid, he will know that’s why I pushed him away and I’m afraid of what he’ll do.
“No, that’s out of the question.”
“Then unless you know a doctor who would be willing to lie for you, I’m out of ideas.”
“A doctor. Of course! I can’t believe I haven’t thought about it before.”
“I was joking.”
I can’t tell Tabatha what I have in mind. I’m not even sure if he will agree to help me. I might have to tell him the truth. I grab my purse and make my way to the door.
“Wait, where are you going? I thought you came here to help me pack the garage.” Tabatha frowns.
Guilt gnaws at my insides and I bite my lower lip. I already bailed last night and didn’t help the girls with our equipment, a fact Tabatha mercifully hasn’t brought up. Yet.
“I have to take care of this first. Oliver is hanging the music video with Scott Rowan over my head if I don’t present him proof that I’m one hundred percent healthy.”
“Blue, what are you planning?”
“I can’t tell you yet.”
“Fine. Don’t tell me. But we’re going to Renegades HQ later to make sure our stuff is where it should be.”
“I’ll be there. I promise.”
Tabatha mutters something under her breath, but I’m already halfway out of the door and I can’t hear what she said. I pull Derek’s contact information and press the call button, hoping he will pick up my call. Things were super awkward the last time we saw each other.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Derek. It’s me, Saylor.”
“Yes, I know. Your name popped up on my screen. What can I do for you?” His voice has a tone of apprehension. Maybe he’s worried I want to talk about Hawaii.
“I need to speak with you in person. Do you have some free time today?”
I have no idea what Derek’s schedule is like. We totally lost touch after he and Liv split up. He’s silent for a moment and my brain starts to spin some kind of bullshit excuse to convince him to see me. But he does reply after a while.
“Sure. I have a break in an hour. Could you meet me at the Children’s Hospital?”
“Yes, I can do that.”
“Okay, call me once you are there and I’ll come meet you at the lobby.”
I make it to the hospital in L.A. just in time and, as promised, Derek meets me in the main lobby, wearing a Frozen themed scrub. Even in the ridiculous ensemble, Derek turns heads as he walks in my direction. He was always a very attractive man and once upon a time, I truly wished Liv would fall in love with him. He would have been good to her, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Not that I don’t love Bas, but at the time, he was the guy who had broken my best friend’s heart.
Derek stops in front of me and nods all business like. “Saylor.”
“Derek,” I say in a mocking tone as I let my eyes roam through the length of his body. “Nice outfit.”
My comment manages to remove some of the seriousness off his face and his lips twitch upward. “It’s my favorite. The children also love it.”
“I bet.”
“So, you wanted to talk? Is everything okay?” Derek scans my face and my guess is he’s trying to decipher if I’m here to talk about Liv.
“Sure, let’s go to the cafeteria.”
I let Derek lead the way, trying not to pay close attention to the people around me. I hate hospitals for a number of reasons, but a children’s hospital is ten times worse. Most of the patrons in the cafeteria are parents who look bedraggled and depressed. I don’t know how Derek can deal with this on a daily basis.
“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee?” I don’t miss the emphasis on the word and I smile. Derek still remembers my caffeine addiction.
“Sure, coffee would be great.”
Five minutes later, he comes back with two cups and takes a seat across from me. I’m feeling nervous all of the sudden. What I’m about to ask Derek crosses all the lines. He takes a sip of his drink and waits for me to start, but when I fail to say anything, he breaks the silence.
“Saylor, you’re beginning to scare me. What’s going on?”
I take a deep breath and look into his eyes. “I need a big favor from you, Derek.”
He frowns and rests his elbows on the table. “How come I have the feeling I’m not going to like it?”
“Because you know me too well?”
He shifts in his chair, leans back, and crosses his arms. “Go on.”
“Wreck of the Day just signed with a music production company and we’ll begin to record our first single soon.”
“Wow, congratulations. That’s great news.”
“Yes, it is. But management is demanding a clean bill of health from me before they move forward.”
“Okaay…”
“I need you to write me one.”
Derek narrows his eyes and flattens his lips. “And you can’t get that from your regular doctor? Why?”
I stare at the cup of coffee in front of me. “Because he won’t be able to give me one.”
“So, let me get this straight. You want me to write you a fake health certificate?”
“Yes.”
I peer at Derek through my eyelashes, expecting him to bolt out of his chair at any minute, but he just sits there, watching me. After what it feels like an eternity, he finally speaks again.