by Kylie Scott
“How’d the one about your eyes go again?” Jimmy smirked.
“Don’t get him started,” groaned David.
With a heavy sigh, Mal smiled. “Yeah, it was all fun and games ’til he tried to rip some hair out of my head. I mean, I can understand where he’s coming from, me being a sex god and all. But he scared the crap out of Anne. Pushed her out of the way to get to me. She could have been badly hurt.”
Jimmy took in Adam’s seriously alarmed expression. “That’s about when we brought Ziggy and Luke on board to help Sam out,” he said, in a soothing, nonchalant tone. “We always had a team on tour, but with wives and kids involved…better to be safe than sorry. They rotate between us, keeping an eye on things.” Jimmy scratched at the stubble lining his jaw. “Plus Lena and I got a place with better security. Our daughters needed more space anyway, a bigger yard to play in and stuff like that.”
“Oh, please, your old place was like a freaking mausoleum.”
“It was not. That house won an architectural award.”
“It was cold and ugly,” said Mal. “Lena made you move, admit it. Your wife runs the show and she’d had enough of all the butt ugly monochrome and marble. That’s the truth.”
After first checking Gib wasn’t watching, Jimmy flipped the idiot drummer the bird.
The small child, however, had already found something inappropriate to latch onto. “Butt! Butt-butt-butt!”
“Good work,” grumbled Ben.
Mal laughed, spurring the kid on. Figures. They were both about the same maturity level.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take him?” I asked, one brow arched high.
Ben shook his head, setting Gibby down once he started wriggling, wanting to explore. With more shouts of “butt,” he ran over to his Uncle Mal, who immediately set him up on his lap. A pair of kid-size earmuffs, no doubt hanging on the kit for this very reason, went on Gibby’s head, and soon Mal was helping him wield the drum sticks. The resulting noise was without rhyme or rhythm and astonishingly loud. Made me wish Mal had earmuffs for the rest of us too. But at least Gibby had been distracted from yelling out any colorful language.
“Having second thoughts about the fame thing?” I asked Adam, wandering closer.
The young man shrugged. “I just want to play my music. What happens happens, you know?”
Sam stood in the corner, doing his silent sentry thing. Every now and then his gaze would take in the view of the pool outside, checking for anyone who didn’t belong. With all of the guys gathered in the one place, security would be more intense than usual. Today he was wearing thick black boots, jeans, and a matching T-shirt. It suited him, the whole dark and dangerous thing he had going on.
I might have been somewhat distracted and lost track of the conversation when something caught my attention. “What did you say?”
Ben looked up. “I said Adrian’s talking about getting Adam a place in the Mackee Festival line-up.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Why?”
“The festival’s under new management and apparently they’re clueless as all fu…fudge. Odds are it’s going to be a disaster. What the hell is Adrian thinking?”
Jimmy cocked his head, watching me with interest for some reason.
“Just because I’ve been on the other side of the country doesn’t mean I haven’t kept up with industry news.”
“So what would you recommend?” asked Ben.
It seemed like every set of eyes in the room was turned my way. I crossed my arms, feeling just a tiny bit defensive perhaps. “Festivals are a good idea, I’ll give Adrian that. Help to establish Adam more widely and build on his audience. I’d definitely talk to Tyra about a place in the Newport and maybe the End of Summer and Rock ’n Waves. You’re only interested in stateside at the moment, right?”
Adam gulped. “Ah, I guess?”
“He’s so clueless, it’s cute,” laughed Mal. Amazing he could keep track of the conversation while helping Gib create chaos on the high hats.
And Jimmy was still watching me, which I so could have done without.
“What?” I scowled.
“Just a thought is all…” said Jimmy.
“What thought?”
From over by the windows, Sam watched me too, his bland business face morphing into something questioning for a moment. The weirdness in the room was seriously starting to get to me.
“Bet you’ve kept up with your contacts too, haven’t you?” asked Jimmy. “Or it wouldn’t take much to get up to date. You always were good at the schmoozing and getting people to do what you wanted. Had a hell of a talent for it, if I remember correctly.”
Now even my brother joined in, his brows lifting in surprise. “Huh. Probably would never have occurred to me, but you’re right, Jim. It’s not a bad idea at all. Smart, organized, has experience or at least a working knowledge of pretty much every part of the industry.”
“What the hell are you all talking about?” I barked.
“Hell!” yelled Gib, making me wince. Evidently I’d raised my voice enough to penetrate through the earmuffs. Though really on a scale of inappropriate words, it couldn’t be worse than butt.
“She always did keep a close eye on everything. I mean, she was good at her job,” said David, carrying on the discussion. Though his tone seemed distinctly reluctant when it came to doling out praise. “Sure this babysitting thing is really for you, Martha?”
“It’s not a long-term solution, but it’s all right for now. Why?”
Sam cleared his throat. “They’re thinking you’d make a great manager for Adam. I happen to agree.”
“A manager? Me?”
“Sure, why not?” Ben walked over to stand in front of me, his mouth a very straight and serious line. “You’re your own kind of scary, just like Adrian is. But you’re way better at smooth-talking people than he’ll ever be. Adam could do a hell of a lot worse.”
“I’m my own kind of scary?” I asked, one brow raised.
“You know you are,” said Jimmy from over on the couch. “You’re a hard ass from way back.”
“All of this flattery is going to go to my head,” I joked.
“Ass!” shouted Gib.
This time it was Ben who winced. “Liz’s going to kill me. Look, Martha, just think about it, okay?”
“Shouldn’t Adam get a say in this?”
The baby rocker looked around the room some more with his big innocent bewildered eyes. If nothing else, the boy would look great on the covers of magazines. Though his clothes and hair needed a bit of work. “I guess she seems nicer than Adrian?”
“Martha nice? You’re hilarious,” said Mal, setting Gibby down on the ground.
The child immediately ran over to the couch to climb up between David and Jimmy. Both held up their hands and some complicated game involving Gibby taking turns high fiving the two men began. It was kind of cute seeing them interact with him. How natural and relaxed they were these days with a small child in their midst.
“Anyway,” continued Mal. “You don’t want anyone too nice. It’s an industry that’ll chew you up and spit you out if you’re not careful. You want someone like Martha who’ll watch your back and cover your interests.”
“Were you actually just praising me?” I asked, shocked.
One side of the maniac’s mouth pulled upward. “Marty, darling…a move into management makes total sense. You might look pretty as a picture, but you’re a natural bully and a thug. Always have been, always will be.”
So many smirks and smiles filled the room. Even Sam covered a bark of laughter with the worst fake cough ever. Bastards. But I didn’t flip out or fly into a rage. Instead, I took a moment to think the imbecile drummer’s words over. “Actually, Malcolm, I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“I think you should.” Ben slipped an arm around my shoulders, even going so far with the sibling affection as to kiss me on the cheek. “Martha?”
“Hmm?”
“You have a black eye,” he said, the words strained.
Dammit. I’d been distracted, and let him get too close. A strange sort of silence filled the room and I immediately took a step away from him, covering the right side of my face with my hand. “It’s fine. God, Ben, way to make a big deal out of it and embarrass me. I just bumped my…”
“No. Do not lie.” He loomed over me, radiating anger. “How did that happen?”
My mouth shut tight, a stupid unnecessary panic filling my veins. For fuck’s sake, this was my brother. No matter how upset he got, he wouldn’t hurt me. But the need for fight or flight pressed at me.
“Ben, mate, take a step back. Give her some space.” Sam’s calm and steady voice came from my side. When he’d moved, I had no idea. But he’d obviously been fast. “You’re scaring her. Look at her face.”
“I am not afraid.” My voice sounded about an octave higher than normal. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Of course you’re not,” soothed Sam, his rough, familiar features oh so welcome. I don’t know why his smile chilled me out, but it did. My shoulders inched back down and breathing came easier. “You’re a fighter, aren’t you, Martha? Now, why don’t you tell us what happened to your face? And like your brother said, the truth please.”
I sighed, turning my face away. “I got mugged.”
Beside me, my brother seemed to swell with fury. “And you didn’t think you should tell—”
“Ben,” said Sam with unerring patience.
“Inside voices,” shouted Gib, not the least bit ironically, before sticking his thumb in his mouth.
“That’s right, Gibby.” Sam nodded and smiled. “We’re staying nice and calm and using our quiet inside voices while Aunty Martha tells her story, aren’t we?”
The child nodded emphatically then crawled onto Jimmy’s lap, obviously in search of comfort. All of the tension in the room must have had him worried. Without a word, the singer gathered him close, cuddling the small child and rubbing his back.
“Sorry.” Ben slumped back against the wall, his face lined with concern. “I’ll try and relax.”
Sam turned back to me, waiting.
“Fu…fudge. Honestly, it’s humiliating, stupid, and not worth all of this drama.” First, I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets, but when that didn’t feel quite right, I tucked them behind my back. “Can’t we just forget about it? We’re upsetting the child.”
Nobody said anything, everyone still waiting for me to speak. I was not going to get out of this no matter how hard I tried. Dammit. Movements slow and steady, Sam withdrew my arms from behind my back, holding my hands in his larger, warmer ones. He didn’t pressure me further. Just held my hands, waiting for me to speak.
“I was walking home late from work last week and the guy ran up to me and grabbed at my bag. He just—he ripped it off my shoulder,” I said, doing the best to keep my own voice calm and even. But the frown was definitely back on my face. “But I hung on.”
Sam blinked. “You hung on to it?”
“It was Gucci. No way was I just going to let him take it.”
Something in the bodyguard’s jaw shifted, though nothing was said.
“Anyway, he punched me. Then another couple of guys stepped in to help and I still had a good grip on my bag. Guess he decided it was more trouble than it was worth and took off,” I said, blowing out a breath of air. “And they say everyone in New York is rude and unhelpful. Just goes to show.”
“Okay.” Sam licked his lips in a very distracting manner. Guess I was just in an easily distracted mood. Anything had to be better than thinking about it again. “That’s everything?”
I nodded.
“Certainly explains why you’ve been so jumpy.”
“I guess it was a bit of a shock. I’ve never been hit before.” My fingers tightened around his and he pulled me closer, gently holding me. Against my ear, his heart beat loud. Odd. I’d never particularly been a cuddler before either. But I suppose everyone had their moments of…not weakness exactly. Something else.
“And you never will be again if I can help it,” he said, the words rumbling forth from deep within his solid chest.
“Seriously?” asked Mal. “Is no one going to say the obvious thing here?”
Over on the couch, Dave lifted one shoulder. “It’s a bit strange that Martha and Sam are hugging it out, but I guess it’s been an emotional day.”
“Not that. Man, and you call me the band idiot.”
I eased out of Sam’s far too nice arms, squaring my shoulders. “Now that’s finished, we can all get on with our lives.”
Mal clicked his tongue. “Not yet. Also, Davie, what you just said by the way says a lot about you and your need to get over the stuff that went down between you and Marty way back when. Because, dude, we’re all way over it. You forgave Jimmy, you can forgive her too.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t call me that,” I mumbled.
“Wish away,” said Mal, his expression serious for once. “Now, Marty, sweetie. Listen to me carefully here for a minute. I promise I’ll buy you every damn Gucci handbag in the country if the next time someone tries to mug you, you’ll just let the bag go. Okay? You hearing me?”
“Thank you,” said Ben, still quietly stressing and doing his best to repress his anger over by the wall. I don’t think I’d ever actually seen my brother so worked up. At least, not over me. Or not for a very long time. “A handbag is not worth more than your life,” he said. “What if the guy had a knife or a gun?”
“Well,” I said, searching my mind for a suitably clever response. “He didn’t.”
“He could have. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Ben—”
“Your brother’s right,” interrupted Sam.
I scowled some more. “I thought you were on my side.”
First, the big man tipped his chin, then his hands slowly curled into fists. “Martha, since you don’t seem to have noticed, let me point out something important to you. Even when you’ve done something so breathtakingly stupid that I couldn’t figure out what the fuck you could possibly have been thinking, I have still always been on your side.”
My mouth, it gaped.
Meanwhile, the silence in the room was deafening. Only for all of about a second, however, until Gibby pulled his thumb out of his mouth and yelled, “Fuck!”
Sam sighed. “Sorry about that, Ben. I’m going to go check on things down at the gate. Excuse me.”
Ben just nodded.
More silence. I could feel various people’s eyes boring into me. Thankfully, Adam the baby rocker quietly started strumming his guitar. A moment later, Mal joined in with a whisper soft drum beat. “That was weird.”
David grunted.
“Of course,” said Mal. “It’s always weird when unresolved sexual tension boils over like that. Still, gives me something to report back to Anne tonight. We’ll have a good gossip about y’all then give making a baby another turn or two. Maybe even three if my wife is lucky. And that girl was born lucky.”
Jimmy’s lips flattened. “I think it’s great that you’re planning on starting a family. But I can honestly live without the daily updates regarding your sex life, man.”
“But you don’t have to, Jimbo. That’s the beauty of it, I’m more than happy to share.” Mal was clearly quite capable of needling Jimmy even while he accompanied Adam’s quiet guitar playing.
Ben slid an arm around my shoulders, his eyes still full of worry. “You okay? Did you see a doctor or someone when it happened?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said, a little distracted. “It really is just a black eye. I put some ice on it and then loaded on the concealer. It was fine.”
“If you say so. Sorry for raising my voice.”
I shrugged. “Guess I should have told you about it.”
“You need to learn to be more of a sharer like me, Marty,” volunteered Mal. “For instance, you could tell us your
plans regarding Sam. To jump his bones or not to jump him, that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler to take the bodyguard to pound town rather than to leave him pining for your hot self indefinitely.”
“I had no idea you read Shakespeare.”
“I’m cultured. I know shi…stuff,” said Mal. “Though we had all agreed after the whole you and Davie hitting the wall thing a decade ago that no one in the family should ever bump uglies again. So you’ll be breaking all the rules, you little rebel.”
No way was I responding. In fact, every muscle in my body wanted to grab Gibby and get the hell out of the room and away from this excruciating third degree into my history and, apparently, Sam’s. But for the life of me I couldn’t figure out any way of executing that plan without it looking for all the world like I was running away. Which was exactly what I wanted to do, of course.
I stood my ground and glared at everybody.
After a fair bit of head scratching, David turned his trademarked furrowed brow my way. So much brooding. “How long has that been going on exactly, you and Sam?”
“There’s no need to sound like the thought of someone actually being interested in me is so completely unbelievable, David.” My hackles were well and truly raised. Men. Such idiots. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Sorry,” he grumbled. “Just a surprise. Isn’t he like ten years older than you?”
“He’s forty-two. Hardly over the hill.”
“Yeah, but…he’s a really good guy.”
“Whereas I’m actual worst of the female race that humanity has to offer?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said, getting all testy. “Don’t put words into my mouth. We just all have a lot of respect for the man. No one wants to see him get hurt.”
“You have become a bit of a love ’em and leave ’em, Marty.” Mal tutted. “Such a heartbreaker. Don’t break Sam’s heart, that’s all we’re saying. No one wants a moping bodyguard. That’d just be plain sad. And possibly dangerous.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Can we talk about something else now?”
“Sam and Martha…huh,” said Jimmy, all oblivious like.