"At yer service mate," Carlos called, sweeping over to us. "Appears yer a bit in yer cups tonight matey."
Mark raised his cup in acknowledgement. "Your first mate here is gettin' cold feet about tomorrow. I'm tryin' to help her out."
Carlos nodded.
"See, I think this is pretty simple. Success is made up of expertise, experience, and motivation," Mark continued.
I leaned in. Drunken Mark seemed to be quite the philosopher.
"Now both you and Diana have expertise and experience. Hell," he said, waving a hand at me, "she's got a lot more experience than you do, Cap'n'." The bird nodded furiously in agreement.
Carlos let that pass. I think he was just as interested in Mark's words of wisdom as I was. Maybe he was feeling pressure about tomorrow as well.
"So you both have the first two covered. That just leaves motivation. Diana," he said looking at me. "What're you doin' when we get back to Baltimore if this big show is a bomb?"
I cringed at the thought. I'm not sure this was helping. "I'll be going back to working as a temp and playing in local bars," I replied hesitantly.
"Pimpin' for a vampire and playin' for drunks is more like it," Mark said, taking another swig of his grog.
I gasped.
Carlos jumped to my defense. "There's no cause to be rude, mate."
Mark turned on Carlos. "Whatchya do three months ago before you became a big time star, Cap'n' Carlos?" he asked.
Carlos looked uncomfortable. "I was a waiter and an actor."
Mark laughed. "You worked at a Chuck E. Cheese and wore a rat costume."
It was Carlos' turn to gasp. "Who told you that?"
Mark leaned back in his chair. "I do my homework," he said smugly.
I wasn't liking Drunken Mark anymore. Carlos drew himself up and said, "It isn't wise, matey, to disrespect a captain on his ship."
Mark laughed. The parrot rocked merrily on his shoulder. I was starting to hate that bird, too. "Don't challenge me to a duel yet. I'm gettin' to my point."
"Then get there already," I snapped.
He looked up. I think he just realized what an ass he was being.
"My point is this," he said leaning in, "you both have a lot of motivation. You can't help but succeed tomorrow. Do you want to work for a vampire and wear a rat suit, or do you two want to be rock stars?"
He had a point, but I was too pissed at his delivery to speak.
Carlos looked at me and smiled. "It's rock stars or bust, matey." He offered me his hand. "Let's give the folks one more set."
I looked over at Mark, who was resting his chin on his hand. "Go on. Knock 'em dead," he said, his words slurring slightly. His phone rang and, without even a glance, he sent the call to voicemail.
Interesting, I thought.
An hour later, flushed from another round of ovations and, okay, another round of grog, I went looking for Mark. I found him snoozing peacefully on a lounge chair. Even in his silly pirate garb he looked delicious.
Andre appeared at my side. "Need help getting him upstairs?" he asked.
I debated just leaving him where he was, but decided to get him to our room.
"You know he's going to snore all night," Andre said.
I glared at him. Not exactly info I needed when I was trying to be a kind, loving girlfriend. "How can you possibly know that?"
Andre shrugged. "He just has that look." We both stared at him a second. The green parrot was snuggled up against Mark's head. Mark gave a little snort as he stirred. Andre gave me a 'told you so' look.
Mark's cell phone fell out of his pocket and onto the floor as we were dragging him to his feet. I tucked it into my own pocket and draped one of his arms over my shoulder. With Andre on the other side, we made our way slowly to our room. Mark woke up long enough to grope me on the stairs. Andre grumbled, but restrained himself from what I was sure were thoughts of pushing Mark down the stairs.
We flopped him down on the bed with a heave-ho. Mark rolled over on his side, his back to us. The parrot, still perched against his shoulder, leaned against Mark's head.
"If you don't take a picture, I will," Andre said.
I dug my phone out of my pocket and snapped a quick shot. Something to blackmail him with tomorrow.
As I walked Andre out to the hallway, he asked, "So did you ask him about his retirement status?"
I was not in the mood to discuss this right now. "Not yet," I said. "I'm still gathering data."
"Data gathering?" he said sarcastically, "Is that what you call burying your head in the sand?"
"Not that I owe you an explanation, but I don't want to accuse my new boyfriend of being a liar for the second time this week," I shot back.
"Oh, I'm sure he'll have a perfectly good reason," Andre replied.
Patsy Cline's "Crazy" blared from my pocket.
"Your pocket's playing old country music," Andre pointed out.
"It's Mark's phone," I said, digging for it. I thought it was cute that he had changed his ringtone since hearing me sing the song.
I looked at the display. The name Marsha appeared with an unfamiliar number across the top. I could feel Andre challenging me to answer it.
I clicked on the call.
Andre leaned over and hit the speaker button.
I smacked his hand away, but before I could do anything a woman shrieked, "Oh, finally decide to answer my call, huh? You can run, but you can't hide from me, Mark." I heard her take a breath and then launch back into her attack. "You send me to voicemail, really? After five years together? What is going on with you?"
I stared at the phone in horror. I was paralyzed.
"Hello?" she said. "Mark, are you there?"
I squeaked. Andre grabbed the phone and pressed END.
"Wow," he said, shaking his head, "I wasn't expecting that."
"Me neither," I said taking a seat in the nearest chair.
I stared at the floor, sure when I looked up there would be pity in Andre's eyes.
"Maybe it's not what it sounded like," Andre began.
I held up my hand. "Don't do that," I said angrily. "I can't stand it!"
"Okay," he said. "No pity. How about revenge instead?"
I looked up at him. "What would you suggest?"
"Well, you could spend the night with me. That would really get him back," he joked.
I glared at him. I wasn't ready to laugh about this.
"Okay, sorry, wrong timing. How about I toss him out in the street?"
I sighed. I had a big day tomorrow. I needed sleep not more drama. I shook my head. "How about you find me another room? I can't deal with this now."
"Done," he said putting his hand on mine. "Gather what you need."
I collected my things out of the bedroom as quietly as I could. I threw Mark's phone at him as I closed the bedroom door. I don't think he even flinched.
Alone in my cozy little room on the third floor of the villa, I allowed myself a few tears. For the first time, I seriously questioned picking Mark over Rick. Rick didn't have a mysterious past that he protected with layers of lies. He sure as hell didn't have a mysterious woman he forgot to mention either. No, Rick was sexy, dependable, and tried and true. Oh, and he loved me enough to let me go. He was the reason I was in Puerto Rico with Mark. He had convinced Mark that, despite evidence to the contrary, I wasn't sleeping with him. Now here I was alone in bed and second-guessing myself.
How did I get myself into these situations?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
My phone buzzed. I squinted at the bright light streaming through the windows. I grabbed the phone.
"Hello?"
"Where are you?" Mark demanded.
"Well, I was sleeping," I said, awake now and ready to rumble.
"You'd better be alone," he snapped.
"What do you care?" I snapped back. "I'm sick of all your cloak and dagger lies, Mark."
"Where are you?" he repeated like I was child. I expected him to start counting to fi
ve any minute.
"I'm getting ready for a morning practice, and then we're going to the conference center for a dress rehearsal at three. I don't want to see you."
I pictured him raking his hand through his hair and tried not to feel bad for him. "Please, Diana," he said softly. "Can we just talk about this? I'm sorry I got drunk last night. That pirate grog is potent."
I was silent at his attempt at a joke.
"What happened last night?" he asked.
"Maybe you should ask Marsha," I said and ended the call.
The fact that he didn't immediately call me back meant I had hit a nerve. I was disappointed. I guess I had been hoping he'd say, "Marsha who?"
I showered and dressed. Carlos knocked on the door at quarter to ten.
"So sorry to hear about your woes, m'lady," he said with a bow.
I nodded.
"I might have something to cheer you up," he said with a grin and opened the door.
He dragged in a wardrobe rack on wheels bulging with clothes. Pretty, sparkly clothes. My favorite kind.
"There's a seamstress coming at one to make any necessary alterations," he said. "You'll need three changes. Roger and Phil want the crowd to see you as versatile—rocker chic, glamorous, and casual."
Remembering my plans to corner those two today, I said, "So why aren't they here? I need to discuss some things."
"They're in the middle of last minute arrangements, but they'll take a look at what we pick out."
My hour with Carlos reminded me a bit of the scene from the Pretty Woman movie. Only Richard Gere was dressed as a pirate, and I wasn't as excited about trying on the clothes as Julia Roberts had been. It was hard to be excited about clothes when your boyfriend had a Marsha calling him at all hours of the night. What kind of name was Marsha anyway? Marsha, Marsha, Marsha! She sounded like a real bossy-butt.
We decided on jeans, a tight white shirt and awesome leather boots for my casual outfit. For the rocker outfit, a black bustier with matching black leather skirt and platform go-go boots. A flowing, sparkling white and gold dress that looked like it came straight from the 70's completed the ensemble. Carlos called the dress "a garment fit for a goddess." Yeah, he said that. I was starting to think he needed medication.
Phil and Roger walked in while I was still in the 70's dress. They looked at me and then at each other.
"Well," I prompted, "don't just stare. What do you think? I don't want to get up on stage looking like I've just walked off of some nineteen-seventies sitcom."
Phil plopped down in a chair. Which was unusual because he wasn't much of a plopper; he was more of a lurker. "You look fantastic," he said the way a doctor would say, "This looks like strep," while he has a tongue depressor jammed half-way down your throat.
"But?" I prompted.
Roger stepped in. "Frankly, Diana, we don't know what to do with you."
I looked around the room. Carlos was making himself busy putting away the discarded clothes.
Phil chimed in, "No offense, but we don't really want to work with you. Like I said before, you've got bad luck. Lots of talent, but bad luck."
Roger continued, "And in this business it's all about the luck."
They stared at me glumly.
"If you're trying to weasel out of this performance, you can forget about it. I'm doing this concert."
Roger waved his hand. "The concert is a given. We're more worried about the tour."
I looked up. "Why?"
"As you know, the tour was supposed to feature Billy Prescott." Phil gave me a stern look.
Hey, it wasn't my fault that Billy would rather pick out China patterns than be on tour.
"We're still trying to salvage some of the dates. If this show goes well, we think we can piece together a truncated tour in the U.S. We already have tentative dates for the summer on the east coast."
"We just don't know what to do with you," Roger repeated.
I wasn't sure if I should feel offended or special. Phil said, "Carlos wants you on tour. Thinks you're the key to making this work in the U.S."
My mind was racing. Opportunity was beating down my door, and I had no intention of letting it slip by. "I understand why you're reluctant. I admit I've had a run of bad luck. But I know I can do this," I said earnestly. "Don't judge me by the past. Judge me by tonight. Let the crowd decide."
Phil nodded.
Roger said, "What about your schedule? This is could be a nonstop tour all over the country. You have a job and a new boyfriend. Have you thought about that?"
"I'm a temp working for a vampire and my boyfriend has a 'Marsha'. A tour across the U.S. is exactly what I need right now," I replied.
Phil raised his eyes heavenward. "See," he said to Roger, "this is just what I'm talking about. She's drama with a capital D."
"I'm not drama," I insisted.
Roger held up his hands. "Let's see how tonight goes. Who cares about the drama if she draws a crowd?"
Phil shrugged. "At least she's not a pirate."
* * *
I had just finished with the seamstress and was on my way to the limo when Mark cornered me in the stairwell. "We need to talk," he said, grabbing my hand.
I put my guitar down with a sigh. "Like I said before, Mark, I'm getting ready to go on stage in front of ten thousand people. I don't have time for this right now."
He turned me to face him. "Okay, here's the short version," he said, looking into my eyes. Oh why, oh why did he have to smell so good? "Marsha's not my girlfriend. She was my partner."
I stared at him. So not a girlfriend was good. However… "I'm not sure that's any better," I said. "Assuming you're not lying—"
He rolled his eyes.
"—why would your ex-partner be calling you?"
He looked uncomfortable. "I can't really get into it right now."
"Huh, well then I don't have time for this right now. Look me up when you're at liberty to discuss it," I said and grabbed my guitar.
Mark blocked my way. "Don't do this, Diana. I'm not doing anything wrong. I just can't discuss it. Please trust me."
I wanted to. I really did. But Andre's words rang in my ears. "I know you're still working for the CIA," I said before I chickened out.
He stared at me for a moment. "How do you know that?"
"Andre did some checking," I replied, feeling crestfallen that he hadn't tried to deny it.
His face darkened. "I should've known. He doesn't know the details. I'll explain everything as soon as I can. I just need you to trust me right now."
"I'm sorry, Mark. I just can't. You've been hiding things from me since the day we met. I understand that is how you're used to living because of your job. Let me know when you've finally left all that behind," I said, brushing past him.
Andre was at the bottom of the stairs. It was obvious he had been listening in. He had the decency to look shamefaced.
"You'd better be right about this," I told him.
He shrugged. "Right or not, I'm only confirming what you've been feeling."
He had a point.
The ride in the limo was annoying. Between David and Margarite making kissy faces at each other and Carlos in full pirate mode, it was all I could do to stop myself from jumping out. Surprisingly, the sight of the convention center soothed me. In just a few hours, I would be on the stage playing in front of thousands of people. It felt right.
The band was set up and running through sound checks when we walked on stage. Wow, it was really big.
Carlos read my thoughts. "Ever thought you'd be in a place like this?" he asked, without a trace of pirate.
I shook my head.
"Me neither," he replied.
"I guess I should thank you for stealing my song," I said, looking over at him.
He grinned. "Anytime, m'lady."
After rehearsal and a wardrobe check, I found myself alone in the dressing room with time to burn. So I updated my webpage and Facebook pages with info about the concert. Withi
n minutes my phone rang. It was Rick. Yikes!
I decided to be a big girl and answer it.
"Hello."
"Is this Diana the rock star?" he asked.
I couldn't help but smile. "Hi, Rick."
"I know I said I'd leave you alone," he apologized. "But I saw your update on Facebook, and I had to call. Are you really performing in front of ten thousand people tonight?"
"Yep," I said, flushing with pride. "Believe it or not."
"Oh, I never doubted you for a minute. Just wish I could be there to see it." He sounded a little too wistful.
"Well, I'd better get back to work."
"Hey, Diana," Rick said, "has Mark screwed up yet?"
"No comment."
"Has he told you he loves you?"
I was stunned. No, in fact, he hadn't. I'd had two declarations of love in the past couple of weeks, and neither was from Mark.
"Thought so," he said a bit smugly. "Well, good luck tonight."
"Thanks," I said and hung up.
I hadn't expected Mark to say he loved me so soon, had I? Hearing Rick's voice made me miss Mark. I couldn't believe he wasn't here with me now. Why did he have to be so secretive? Maybe Andre was just trying to edge Mark out of the way. But facts were facts. Mark admitted he was still working with the CIA. Geez, it sounded weird even thinking it in my head.
"Shake a leg, matey," Carlos called from the hallway. "It's almost show time."
Time to get my head in the game, I thought as I glanced in the mirror. I hoped the stylist could do something with my hair. It needed major work.
An hour later my hair was rock star fab, and my rock chic costume was fitted like a black leather glove to my body.
"Now that's what a rock star's supposed to look like," said Andre, as he escorted me from my room to the back of the stage. I could hear the roar of the audience as Carlos took the stage. Phil and Roger gave me a thumbs up when I walked by. Butterflies raced around my stomach. Was this really happening?
I looked around, feeling anxious and a little sad.
And then I saw him. He stepped out of a dark alcove holding an enormous bunch of red roses.
2 Queenie Baby - Out of Office Page 12