He starts the song and it sounds different. Sweeter, from the guitar’s warm tones that I feel in my chest as he plays it in person. Stronger, with a hand-picked melody that’s more dynamic than the simple strummed version on the video.
The song is growing.
Gavin’s eyes crinkle at me and I smile, forgetting the starlet at my back, Jimmy at the desk behind Gavin, and an audience of several hundred in this studio. The spotlight drowns out the visual noise so I see and hear only him.
The intro crests and Gavin murmurs, “This song is still for you, Beryl.” And then he begins.
Found lights/ found fame
Found her/ and I’m lost again
Wilderness of solitude
Got fire/ got blood
Got a bolt from above
Inspiration unlocked/ the key to what I crave
The muse
So I’m homeward bound/ and broken
And finally open/ and hoping
For you
A new home/ a new start
A new place in my heart
A new way to make my way in this dark world
Found lights/ found fame
Found you/ and I’m home again
Wilderness but not alone
If you can’t/ I can
If you won’t/ I will
If you vow, I might break
But I’ll try for your sake
It takes two
It takes two
To say I do.
Gavin plays the final chords and I’m struggling to hold back the tears that prick my eyes as I watch his face—sweet, sure, confident, and calm.
He grasps my hand and turns to Jimmy for a last banter, telling him that Tattoo Thief is going back into the studio next week, and that fans can expect more raw and unplugged songs on their next album.
I sit there, stunned, holding Gavin’s hand like a life ring. Fallon’s band strikes up and the lights retreat from us. I take a huge breath, not realizing I’d been holding it since the song ended.
“That was amazing,” I say.
Gavin brushes his lips against my knuckles. “Let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
We follow four men wearing suits and secret service-type earphones as they push through an unmarked industrial door at the back of Rockefeller Center. I’m immediately blind and deaf in the sticky night, overwhelmed by camera flashes and a hundred screaming girls.
Half of them shriek Gavin’s name. The rest just shriek.
The security guards block for us, pushing back the girls as we cross the plaza from 30 Rockefeller Center to a waiting limo. Rafts of phones bob above the crowd as fans try to capture a photo of Gavin.
I keep my head down, holding Gavin’s hand in a death grip as I slink behind him. I nearly run into his back when he stops, straightens, and pulls me close against his hip. I wobble in my heels and I look up at him, wondering why we’ve paused.
Gavin’s cool blue eyes heat as he closes the distance between us, his mouth taking mine in a lusty, intense kiss. Flashes explode beyond my closed eyelids, and I hear screaming and booing.
“Smile,” he commands, and I do. He holds me tight against him, letting the security guys battle the crowd while the paparazzi swarm to get a shot of him. And me. And us.
“What’s your name?” a photographer shouts at me.
“Beryl. B-E-R-Y-L.” I’m not going to like seeing myself in print, but I’d loathe a misprint that calls me Cheryl.
“Last name?” A different photographer shouts.
“What do you do?” asks another. I cringe and quit answering questions. I’m so not ready for this.
Gavin waves at the crowd, flashing a rakish grin to go with his spiky blond hair and tight black T-shirt. He has bad boy written all over him.
Only I know better. I see it in the set of his jaw and the angle of his shoulders. He’s being the rock star, but he’s grounded now. After what he’s just admitted to the world, I hope his recklessness will finally be tempered by responsibility.
We reach the limo and Gavin dives at me even before the door is closed, ready to pick up our extracurricular activities where we left off before the show.
I hope he knows what he’s doing. The crazy kiss that claimed me in front of the world is sure to hit tabloids tomorrow. Gavin’s throwing explosive stories at the press like meat to lions. It’s sure to draw a larger pack and I’m afraid I’ll be ripped to shreds.
I clutch his shirt and push him away to get his attention. “Gavin! Hold on. Did you know it was going to be like that?”
“You mean Jimmy calling you out? Honest to God, Beryl, I didn’t. But you did great. And you looked fantastic when we ran to the car.”
“But that kiss?”
“I didn’t feel you complaining. Besides, after Jimmy got the spotlights on you, I just wanted to show off my new girlfriend on my terms.”
“What about mine?”
Gavin pauses, faltering. His face is pinched with worry. “Oh, shit, Beryl. I didn’t ask … I didn’t think …”
Gavin’s head is in his hands and he’s shaking it, a no-no-no that has him pulling away from me. I pull his hands from his face and force him to look at me.
“I know you didn’t, Gav. That’s part of your charm—I love that you’re spur-of-the moment. But I like to think stuff through. Overthink it, even. And I’m a little freaked out that we didn’t talk about it before you just did it.”
He still looks stricken so I twist in my seat and straddle him, finding his mouth for a slow, deep kiss to reassure him that I’m not angry, just frightened. I feel his pulse quicken and his hands tighten around me, a signal that we’re OK.
“Beryl, I promise that next time something like this happens, we’ll figure it out together.”
I smile. I appreciate the sentiment, but the logical girl in me snickers. Never in a million years did I imagine I’d be here, riding in a limo with a rock star. So the prospect of a “next time” for anything like this is hilarious.
And totally awesome.
The driver takes us to a restaurant to meet up with Gavin’s band mates. I’m nervous that they’ll hate me for being the source of the stolen video, even though I wasn’t the leak.
We duck into a private dining room at the restaurant and I immediately recognize Jayce and Dave from Tattoo Thief. The lead guitarist and drummer welcome me like family. I’m floored.
“I don’t know you, but I already like you,” Jayce says, patting my arm. “Thank you for bringing him back.”
I shake my head, ready to protest, but Jayce cuts me off. “Stop. You don’t know how hard I tried—how hard all of us did—to get him out of his funk and to come back home.”
“It’s the truth,” Dave grimaces at the memory of the past few months. His girlfriend Kristina confirms the strain.
“I tried sweet-talking, I tried guilt, I tried pulling rank, and when all of that didn’t work, I threatened him,” Dave adds. “I thought we were going to have to replace him or build a new band. But I never wanted to.”
“You can’t just quit on your family,” a tall guy pops up behind Jayce and Dave, throwing his tattooed arms around their necks in a playful stranglehold. “When Dave threatened Gavin with that, I told him, ‘No way. I got this band together and I’m going to keep it together.’”
“But you couldn’t,” Jayce accuses Tyler.
“But here we are,” Tyler shoots back. “I just didn’t know my magic bullet was a pretty lady named Beryl. Nice to meet you.”
Tyler reaches for my hand and shakes it slowly, throwing in a deep, formal bow for good measure. I laugh and Gavin snorts, coming up behind me and pulling my hand from Tyler’s grasp.
“Don’t be a pain, Ty. Go find your own girl.”
“You know I’ve tried.”
“Try harder.” Gavin pulls me hard against him in a mock-possessive gesture that electrifies me. “Once Tyler is housebroken it will be way easier to get some poor girl to take him
in.”
Dave and Jayce hoot with laughter at Tyler’s expense and I hear Kristina snicker, “not likely.” The good-natured ribbing is the sort that can only come from a close-knit family.
I realize this friendly get-together means more to Gavin than a casual night out. This is his equivalent of bringing me home to Mom—letting me into his inner circle and the people who matter most in his life.
I squeeze his hand to tell him thanks.
Gavin squeezes back.
He hands me a metal cup the size and shape of a coffee mug, but inside there’s an icy concoction of ginger beer, lime and vodka. “It’s a Moscow Mule. But go easy on ’em.”
I promise to reign myself in if he will. It’s a deal.
Just as we’re about to sit down for a first course, Stella arrives. It’s so unexpected, and such a slap in the face after what she did to me and to Gavin, that my anger transforms into rage.
I’m ready to sprint across the room and knock her flat but Gavin catches my arm and I struggle against him.
“What the hell is she doing here?” I hiss.
“Beryl. Take a breath. I invited her.” Gavin’s calm as he pushes me gently into my chair. “I know you’re angry at her. And you can be angry at me because I didn’t talk to you about inviting her first. But listen to what I’m going say, OK?”
I nod slightly and he releases his grip on my arm. I’m not sure how the band feels about Stella posting the video, but nobody else here looks as murderous as I feel.
I look up at Gavin. His eyes plead with me to trust him, and I do. I don’t trust Stella further than I can throw her skinny ass, but I trust him. So I bite my lip and knock back my drink and fume while everyone else sits, Stella included.
Gavin motions with his glass as he stands at the head of the table.
“This is a toast to great friends,” he begins, raising his drink. “Without you guys—all of you—I’d probably still be lost. I wanted us to get together tonight to celebrate the beginning of our next album. We’re going to do the best we can do with it, and take it in any direction that feels right, but we’re not going to do it at the expense of each other. You have my word on that.”
I see Gavin’s band mates nodding, the somber reality of what happened to Lulu still a fresh scar.
“It’s also a toast in sincere thanks for friends who forgive. We screw up. We do stupid things. We can be selfish and hurtful and just plain wrong.”
“Speak for yourself!” Tyler pipes in, spurring laughter to lighten the mood.
“I’m speaking from experience,” Gavin says. “I was an unbelievable jerk and I am so grateful you stuck by me. You’re the kind of friends worth having, and the kind of friend I want to be.”
We clink glasses to toast all around the table. I make a half-hearted motion with my cup toward the far end of the table but avoid Stella’s gaze. Gavin gives me a pointed look.
I understand him. He wants me to forgive Stella. But her betrayal is still so raw.
“The good news is, thanks to Stella, we’ve got some major demand for our first single,” Gavin adds. “The bad news is we’ve got to quit screwing around and get to work on Monday. Cheers to that!”
That comment inspires more drinking and a few groans, but Gavin’s enthusiasm is contagious. As he sits, Stella stands and walks to my chair, worry lining her face.
“Beryl, I owe you more than an apology. I know what I did was selfish and wrong, and I can’t believe Gavin asked me to be here tonight.”
She looks genuinely miserable, more shattered than I’ve ever seen her over a guy or anything we went through together in college. She shifts uncomfortably as she stands but I remain seated, my mouth pressed in a hard line. If I speak, I know I’ll regret what I really want to say.
“Do you forgive me, Beryl? I’m so sorry I did that to you, making your video public. I was just—it was just so perfect, so much better than every crappy show I’ve been sitting through—I just had to write about it. And the only way I could get the chance was if I had an exclusive. The video.”
I peek at Gavin and he’s listening, but I don’t want to let this go without a fight. “You could have ruined everything.”
“Beryl, if you don’t forgive me, I have ruined everything.”
I snort. “No. You just established yourself as the next up-and-coming music journalist. Lucky you. I guess using a friend is a small price to pay for getting what you really want.”
“It was selfish. I didn’t think—I didn’t think I’d lose your friendship.”
“You were wrong.” I push myself up from my chair and point toward the door. “You’d better leave before you steal something else.”
“Beryl.” I hear Gavin growl my name in warning. “You forgave me. I used Lulu to get what I wanted and you still forgave me. Is what Stella did really unforgiveable?”
I hesitate, my heart pounding, feeling adrenaline surge because I want to punish her so badly. But Gavin’s words refocus me. I’m angry about the video and the rift she almost tore in my relationship with Gavin. But mostly, I’m angry that she ruined the trust in our friendship.
“How can I be your friend if I can’t trust you?” I say, feeling tears rim my eyes. I blink to keep them from spilling. “I let you in on the secrets I wasn’t supposed to share with anyone, and you just sold them.”
Stella’s face pulls taut with anguish. “You’re right. I don’t deserve your trust right now, but I’m going to try like hell to earn it back. Here.” She thrusts a sealed envelope at me and I take it, not sure what I’m supposed to do with it.
“I didn’t know how else to show you how sorry I am, so I brought you this. Even if you don’t trust me right now, I want to show you that I trust you.”
I turn and walk a few steps away from her, giving myself breathing room as I open the envelope. The private dining room is subdued as the members of Tattoo Thief watch and wait. Gavin keeps his seat and I read the two pieces of paper Stella gave me.
It takes me a minute to process what I’m reading. It’s Stella’s secret. Two legal documents that completely change the way I see her.
My mouth falls open and I turn, seeing her head bent in shame. “I didn’t know.”
“Now you do,” she whispers.
“How could you—?”
“Can we please not talk about it tonight?” She looks pained and I quickly tuck the documents back into the envelope and hand them back to her. What she’s just shared with me is too much, like punishing a pickpocket with a life sentence, and I’m embarrassed. The depth of her apology finally reaches me.
“I just wanted to show you that I’m sorry. Truly.”
I grab Stella in a rough hug. “Stop it. I forgive you. And we’re going to talk about this later.” I finally release her and our eyes lock. “But don’t you do that to me again or I’ll kick your ass and never tell you another secret. Besides, I’ll bet these guys would give you an exclusive if you’d just ask.”
“We would,” Tyler confirms, poking his head between us, “but you have to ask pretty-please.” His mouth curls up in a teasing grin. Tyler the Peacemaker.
“OK,” Stella regroups. “Pretty please?”
“With a cherry on top,” Tyler prompts.
“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
“And sprinkles? And whipped cream?” Tyler’s eyes dance. He’s torturing her but I love watching Stella squirm.
“Yes, and nuts and hot fudge and anything else you want.”
“Well, that’s an offer I can’t refuse,” Tyler said. “You just promised me anything. So my answer is yes, you’ll get your exclusive. Stick with me, little lady.”
Stella tries to look indignant at the little lady comment—and she is a pixie, dwarfed by Tyler’s lean, towering frame. But her pique doesn’t last as Tyler sweeps her away from me, introducing her to the rest of the band.
“I’m proud of you,” Gavin whispers. He guides me to a quiet corner while the rest of our friends are immersed
in conversation.
“I brought you something.” Gavin holds out a small velvet pouch and I open it, spilling a silver chain into my palm. A rough-cut aquamarine stone the size and shape of a small strawberry hangs from the chain.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks.
I shake my head, turning it over to see the pale blue gradients of color within it. It reminds me of Gavin’s eyes.
“It’s a beryl stone. An aquamarine. I got it in Africa and I knew I wanted to give it to you when the time was right. Now’s right, Beryl. There’s not a lot you can be sure of in life, but I am sure of you.”
I let him pull the chain from my fingers and fasten it around my neck. The stone lies heavy on the hollow of my throat.
“I—thank you.” It’s all I can manage, but it’s enough. He smiles and kisses a tear that escapes down my cheek.
“I also want to ask you a favor, and you don’t have to say yes. But it would mean a lot to me if you could be part of the next album the way Lulu was.”
I balk and he continues quickly, “Not like a muse. I’m not trying to replace her. You’re as different from her as classical is from hip-hop. But she was the model for our album covers and I want you to be the same, on the cover of Wilderness.”
My mouth drops open and I gurgle a laugh. Me. Right. I feel more beautiful and alive than I’ve ever been, but there’s no way I’m cover model material.
“Beryl. You trust me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s try.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Gavin and I ride back to his apartment from the restaurant with our fingers linked, well fed and just a little bit buzzed. He asks me to stay over at his place tonight, and I like him even more for this shy request.
He asks what I’m doing this weekend and when he finds out I’ve got four days off he’s ecstatic, immediately launching into ideas of what we can do in New York over the holiday weekend.
But he sees my hesitation and prods me to admit that I’m torn—I would love to go to Oregon to see my mom, but the last-minute tickets are expensive.
Tattoo Thief (BOOK 1) Page 24