by Anne Eliot
“Sounds sad.”
“It is sad. And it’s why Adam and I had nearly stopped dating anyone. As Adam fell for Eve he also fell in love with the quiet life, and the whole town he’d discovered along with her. He wanted to tell her, but he also wanted to have a wife whose ‘baby-bump’ and pregnancy was not once analyzed or put into a tabloid. Our celebrity friends have wives and girlfriends who have gone through hell with scrutiny like that. Adam got to do things like go to the beach, hike, go to town fairs and he went to places like coffee shops and pubs without random paparazzi appearing and ruining everything.” His face lights up with longing. “We’ve been in this job as long as Bieber’s been in it. We never get to do simple stuff like that, and so how could I be mad at Adam when I was happy that he’d had the chance to actually live that life?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t think he didn’t pay for the lies. Eve is one tough woman and Adam almost lost her.” He chuckles again. “He’d done such a good job lying to her that he was an apprentice cheese maker, that she didn’t even know he could sing—until—well,” He glances at his phone as it buzzes and buzzes into his hand. “We’ll save that story for another time.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I still think Eve could have brought the baby with her. I would have.”
“Eve’s mom’s stroke was caused by viral meningitis. It’s contagious and Eve didn’t want the baby to be exposed, just in case.”
I sigh, all of the angst and anger going out of me. “Fine. I would have done the same. Poor Eve. Here we think we had a bad week, and she’s been dealing with all of that? I’m so happy her mom is okay.”
He leans closer, pulling at another branch. “You’re the most considerate person I’ve ever met,” he says quietly. “Really, Robin. You’re beyond nice. How is that?”
“You don’t know me.” I pull in a ragged breath, deflecting his compliment. “You agreed to be a fake-dad for your best friend’s baby? That’s pretty nice, too.”
He sighs. “Again, to me—that wasn’t nice, that was just my life. If you could think of us like we’re all standing on different parts of some sort of giant spider web. One person wiggles in the web and the rest feel it and run in the direction of the wiggle to stop the crazy, or worse, stop someone from getting caught because of that wiggle. Like when the whole PR team, Vere and Hunter stepped in that day I had to go ride the rides at Universal Studios because Adam lost his mind?”
I nod.
“That was a little web-wiggle. Standard. We usually don’t mind it, because we love each other and because we chose to be here doing this Guarderobe thing, but we also understand that this web traps people who might not want to be part of it, like it’s caught you now. It’s why, the day I met you, I begged them not to hire you. And I acted so badly trying to push you away, not because I didn’t like you, but because I did like you, very much. I didn’t want us to tangle you up inside of our mess. I’m so sorry, but now… I worry you’ll never get out.”
He’s looking at me with such sadness and regret that my chest twists.
More tears creep out of my eyes. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m fine.”
“I’ll believe that, maybe, if you can stop crying for more than five minutes.”
I shrug as a few more tears fall, and damn-him, but I start crying again. “I guess…” I sniffle. “I was holding the ones about my dad back for so long that they built up, and now, I can’t seem to stop. These tears are not about you guys. Okay? So you can stop worrying…”
“Can I hug you?” He blinks, voice dropping to a low whisper. “I’ve been wanting to put my arms around you since I came out here, but I was afraid to ask. Please.” He opens his arms.
I nod, and he pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. The warm contact, the comfort, and the way he’s repeating, “I’ve got you, and this is all going to work out fine,” over and over against the top of my head calms me some.
After a long moment, he whispers, “Do you know that Mrs. Perino and Angel called Gregory and Mrs. Felix this morning, asking for us to help you? Mostly asking if they would call our lawyers for some basic advice on how maybe they could get custody of you and Sage. But when the newspaper article came out, the advice went from basic to complicated. They’ve been working on a way out for you all day.”
“Can your lawyers help?” I blink up at him. “I’ll do anything. Anything.”
He pulls back a little, surveys my face, then wipes my cheeks very gently with the back of his hand. “Why didn’t you say your father was M-I-A? Ask any of us for help from the beginning?”
“How could you possibly help me with that situation? You’re in a band and the last time I checked, none of you owns any spy planes or drones.”
He sighs and pulls me close into the hug again. “I know why. You wouldn’t even ask me for concert tickets. Holy shit, Robin. How could you have carried all of this sad-weight and pressure inside your body all alone?”
“Because I’m used to it by now. Because I had to try, right?” I press my ear against his chest, because I just realized I can hear his heart beating. After another long pause I say, “I’m assuming if Mrs. Perino told you stuff about us. Then you know Sage and I were broke and homeless the day I jumped into your limo. We’d just stolen our lunch from the pool deck, and I was actually running from that human resources lady, trying to get to Sage. I thought we were going to get arrested.”
“Angel told me. No wonder you decked me in the eye and yelled at me that day. You really did have somewhere more important to go and you had problems way bigger than me and my concert issues.”
“So you know the Perinos—they aren’t our family friends like Angel told Gregory that day? That same day, we were all strangers. I was lying to everyone as much as you were lying to me. Angel figured out we were living in our car, and he and his mom were so kind. They offered us a place to stay. Mrs. Perino offered to watched Sage for free so I could take the job. We’d be sunk without how much they helped me.”
“I know. I know all of it, and I’m glad they stepped in, but I doubt that you’d be sunk. You’re not the type.”
“Oh I’m the type. Worse, I’m a coward. Even today I couldn’t tell Sage the truth of what’s coming for us next.” I gasp and move out of his embrace, pressing my fingers into my temples. “Oh God. What’s coming next is that any judge that might have had sympathy for me is going to lose that when they read the paper that says I was here in Orlando working as a paid prostitute.” I blink over at him. “That’s going to happen to me now, isn’t it? That’s why you keep saying I can’t escape?”
He nods, his silver eyes going dark.
I’m unable to talk for a moment as a new rush of tears hits. Like he knows I’m about to collapse he picks me up easily into his arms and walks me over to one of the decked-out picnic tables so he can sit me on his lap, which is fine with me, because I think I don’t have the strength to hold myself up.
“Are you listening?” He’s whispering against the top of my head again. “I’m going to fix this. We are going to fix this. Mrs. Felix knew what to do right away. When she suggested it this afternoon. I panicked, called her crazy, and we had a huge fight until I finally agreed to it. I’m sure you will act the same when you hear what we have planned, but after hearing the details, and holding you, and knowing you even a little bit more—Christ—I never thought I’d feel so right about what we’re planning today. Robin, it’s going to take time, it’s going to sound insane, but we can fix this. Save your brother from being separated from you. We can.”
All I can do is cry and shake my head. He’s crazy. These people are crazy. There is no way to fix this. He glances at his phone, which is blowing up in his hand like it always does, but then as he’s staring down at it trying to read what’s coming in, the screen goes black.
“Shit. It’s dead. Dead. Of course it’s dead.”
With a heavy sigh he pockets it, moves me off his lap so I’m sitting on the bench. Then he
gets down on one bent knee in front of me, takes both of my hands in his, and whispers quietly while staring into my eyes, “If we do this plan, the band, you, and I will have to tell so many more lies than ever before. Bigger, crazier lies. We can tell no one what we’re up to. Not even Sage for a little awhile. Will you be able to handle that? If you can, we’ve got a plan so the people from North Carolina can’t take you back with them. It’s lies that will keep the Perinos out of the news-spotlight and keep your brother with you, and it also saves our band from the prostitution-ring rumors.”
I shake my head. “Uh, in case you didn’t notice, this big eighteenth birthday of mine did not make any hidden powers appear. I’m not a secret princess, didn’t find a genie lamp inside a cave full of gold, and neither of us are magic. Which to me, is the only way you could fix all that you’re promising.”
“If you agree to play along and trust me, we’ve got this. Can you do that? Trust me?” His last question is a whisper again.
I shake my head ‘no’ because what he’s asking is impossible, but again I’m picturing Angel’s face asking me to trust people only an hour ago.
Did Angel know about this ahead of time? Is this what he meant? I’m supposed to trust Royce Devlin?
“Why are you down on your knees?” I whisper back.
“Because…I’m begging you to try to believe in me. Believe in the next plan?” His eyes have lost their shadows and as I look into them, I see only intense, pleading sincerity there.
“I will try but whatever you’re thinking is not going to—”
“Shh.” He reaches up and places a hand on my lips. “Believe. That’s all you have to do, and we will do the rest.” For some reason the earnest, scrunched up expression on his face makes me laugh. “I feel like I’m meeting you for the very first time today.”
“Actually, you are. This is the real me. Finally.” His grip on my hands tightens and there’s a catch in his voice. “I only hope you like me, Robin, because you and I are going to be stuck with each other for quite some time. We’ll also have to fast-track our way into being friends after this. Real friends. Can we also be that? Starting now? Because if we can’t, then none of what’s planned next will work.”
I laugh again, pulling at his hands as hard as I can. “Yes, but only if you get up. Yes. Yes. I will. I will.”
He stands, but hasn’t let go of my hands as he pulls me to my feet. “I won’t disappoint you this time. I promise.”
Chapter 37
His eyes are so clear and his expression is so relieved, I feel like I can see all the way inside of him. The way he’s looking at me makes me shiver, and, damn the backs of my stupid knees.
Misunderstanding my response, he pulls me in close again and whispers, “Don’t get cold feet. Come on. You don’t know it yet, but were in mid-plan execution mode here. Hold it together, because we’re at show time.”
“Show time? You mean you’re late for the concert?”
“Not yet, but I’m supposed to kiss you now. If you agree to that, just how you agreed to being my friend, you’ll get to hear the rest of the plan.”
His stare is so solemn, that I feel like laughing again.
“I know you’re full of shit right now, but— since this day has been stranger than if a zombie apocalypse finally showed up on Earth, and since this plan promises to save my brother so he can stay with me, why the heck not? I should kiss you. Right? I will.” I nod, letting my eyes carve over every line of his beautiful face, then rest on his lips.
“No.” He pulls back from me. “This kiss is part of the plan, but I feel strange doing it like this now that you’ve said that. I’m not trading kisses for favors. It’s not like that, it’s got to be genuine.”
I laugh. “Okay, fine.” I quip. “I’ll say it’s for my birthday. That’s genuine enough, right?”
He’s frowning at me like I’ve hurt his feelings. “You think I’m joking? Trying to scam you for a kiss. At a stressful time like this?”
“Aren’t you?” I turn my face up to him, wishing I was bold enough to suggest that maybe it’s me who’s trying to scam a kiss off of him.
“I know we only just got real with each other, but Robin, you’ll have to forget all the bad things that you think about me. I want you to know that I’m a very serious and honorable person. I feel like this particular kiss should be somehow special. I mean, I know you enough to know you’re the kind of girl who deserves it to be special, despite the strange circumstances, and so I’m trying to be certain that it is special —”
I reach up a hand and place my fingers over his mouth like he did to me.
“So make it special,” I whisper.
With a little groan, he bends in, and the lips that touch mine are searing hot, but exceptionally gentle. It’s like he’s afraid I’m going to disappear right in front of him, or something. When I kiss him back, he sighs into me and relaxes a little. Our lips part and tongues meet, and it feels wonderfully familiar and right. I don’t hold back, and neither does he.
My mind swirls as the kiss takes over, wiping away any conscious thoughts as he pushes me back and somehow we’re sitting back on the bench. Building another memory like I did the first time I kissed him, I decide to put a name on each kiss he passes on to me, as well as name the ones I pass back to him.
This one, where he’s tentative and almost shaking against my lips, that’s the birthday kiss I asked for.
And, this one, the one that’s getting good, because it’s all tongue and hands and pulling me close, because we shouldn’t be doing this at all…this is another forbidden kiss, and it half feels like one of the kisses he stole in his closet.
Now, a gentle hello, nice-to-meet-you, kiss, because this is the first time he and I have truly been ourselves with each other.
This one is our goodbye kiss…because he’s going to Tokyo and I’m going…where am I going?
To the moon…to the moon…
A kiss for this beautiful summer night.
A kiss to see if I can actually taste the little twists at the side of his mouth.
A kiss to make him groan against my mouth again.
A kiss while his hands are tangled in my hair.
A kiss while I tangle mine into his, so I can pull his head closer to mine.
Like that was too much, he pulls back, gasping.
He’s panting, lips poised over mine like he’s wishing we could kiss more, but he keeps his eyes closed, and I could swear he’s trembling all over. To see if it’s true, I place my hands onto the sides of his face, and he leans into them like they somehow soothe him.
Because I love the feel of his skin, I start moving my hands over his face, then find myself pressing my fingers around his beautiful face. I measure my index finger against the line of his square chin, then I make his perfectly trimmed beard scratch against my palms. This makes his lips turn up in a smile, as well as tempts me to kiss him again, but I don’t. Instead, I trace the soft line where his upper lip curves.
“What are you doing?” His eyes open, finally.
“Shh. Stay still.”
“Tell me. What are you doing?”
I run my fingers down the sides of his face, then down his neck, stopping my memorization of him when I’m at his collarbones. “If I were the brave sort of person who could say whatever I wanted while kissing random rock stars on the worst day of my life, I would tell you what I’m doing, but I can’t.”
“We can’t have kissed like we just kissed, and call today the worst day, right? No matter what else happens to us today, there’s just no way this is the worst day. And there’s no way I’m a random rockstar to you, either.” He turns one cheek into my palm as my hand comes back up toward his brow. His expression says he likes me touching him like this. “Come on. Please tell me what you’re doing.”
I laugh. “Fine. I’m doing two things. First, I’m creating a memory of how you look, smell, and taste right now.” I pause to feel his forehead because he’s raised his bro
ws so high his skin has crinkled in four distinct spots, and I want to trace those crinkles with my fingers. “I also want to remember the feel of your face’s bone structure. I want to learn the exact texture of what your beautiful skin, and hair, feels like. Remember how your lips are still damp from my kiss.”
“Why?” He lowers his eyelids, his gaze looking a little shy.
“Because.” I shrug. “I think I will search my whole life for more kisses like the ones you and I seem to create together. And I’m pretty sure I will need something to keep me busy when I don’t ever find that kind of kiss again.”
“Unless part of my master plan includes never letting you go?” He waggles his brows, which it kind of does. “So, never fear, Robin Love. I will be kissing you a lot in the future.”
“Funny.” I laugh. “Considering I’m going off to probation and maybe jail, and you’re heading to your concert and then off to—Tokyo, that’s probably not going to happen, but one day, Royce Devlin, when I’m a real artist, I will make a marble statue or a better painting than the one I failed at today of you. One that captures the white-blue stardust that burns from your eyes. I also mean to sculpt the way your shoulders seem broader than anyone else’s, not because you’re this handsome, perfectly made guy, but because of what’s inside of you. Because of how I think you’d try to hold up the whole world with those shoulders of yours.”
“You do that, too, Robin. Try to hold everyone up. Worry about everyone’s problems. I think we’re the same in that,” he whispers, and the way his eyes are boring so intently into mine, my heart flips so many times, I have to look away.
Ignoring his comment, I forge on talking. “I also mean to figure out a way to show how the air around your entire body pulses with raw confidence. Because so often a painting is not about the subject at all, it’s about all of the space around the subject. If I can pull that off—if I can get you right, I won’t have lived my future life alone for nothing. I will have been inspired by you, in this moment. Inspired to become the best artist in the world.”