by Every, Donna
“It is with deep regret that we heard about the tragedy that occurred before the concert last night. I want to state categorically that the band had no knowledge of the events until after they came off stage. The manager of the venue and I made a decision not to cancel the concert for fear of further trouble and I decided not to tell the band until after they had played. The guys are all deeply saddened and will be sending their condolences and flowers to the families of those who died. An investigation is being carried out by the police and all will be revealed in a few days.”
Nick moved to the mike. “I can’t begin to tell you how devastated we all are about what happened last night. Our fans are very important to us; they’re the ones who make us what we are. So when fans lose their lives coming to our concert, it makes us look at who we are and what we’re doing. It makes us re-examine what’s important. I deeply grieve the loss of those fans and the guard and for the pain that their families must feel today.”
“Will you be cancelling the rest of the tour?”
“We will be cancelling the concert in Cincinnati, but we will be going ahead with the rest of the tour. We don’t want to disappoint our fans and we have committed to making sure that this kind of thing doesn’t happen again. Thank you.” He led the band out the back exit and left the journalists to make their reports to the various media houses which they represented.
Shari left with the rest of the media, not sure where she belonged in this instance. Brian had already left for the airport so she headed for her room to pack. She didn’t know if she would see Nick before she left and she was surprised to find that she wanted to.
Her phone rang. It was Lily inviting her to join the band for a light lunch before they all went their separate ways until they met up in Miami.
“I don’t think so, Lily,” she excused herself, not wanting to run into Tim.
“Nick told Brad and me what happened. I’m so sorry, Shari. You don’t have to worry about running into Tim. He won’t be joining us. And Shari, can I rely on you to keep what happened to yourself?”
“I won’t do anything to discredit the rest of the band, Lily, but Tim needs to get help. As he’s not going to be there I’d be happy to come. Where will you be?”
“Nick’s suite in an hour. It can certainly hold all of us. We’re having a cold buffet delivered there.”
Shari’s spirits rose. She would see Nick before she left after all.
Lily opened the door to her knock and invited her in. Shari was warmly greeted by the band as she followed Lily into the suite. She wondered if they knew what had happened although they gave no indication of it. Her eyes automatically searched for Nick, but he didn’t appear to be around. She chided herself for being disappointed that he wasn’t. Don’t go there, Shari, she warned herself.
The buffet had been laid out on the marble-topped island in the kitchen and Lily invited everyone to dig in now that Shari had arrived. As she surveyed the offerings of the buffet, Nick emerged from his bedroom and made a beeline for her.
“How are you today?” He asked quietly.
“Better. What about you?”
“Getting there.”
“This buffet looks delicious, Lily,” Shari commented, putting some seafood salad on her plate, a bit of Greek salad and a piece of smoked salmon.
“You hardly have anything on your plate,” Nick pointed out. “Here, have some of this ceviche or some sushi.”
“Don’t be controlling, Nick,” she chided. “I have what I want. Besides, I don’t fancy raw fish.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. He was secretly pleased to see that his Shari was back. His? Where did that come from?
“Yes, ma’am. The lady knows what she wants.”
“And she doesn’t want you,” Steve joked, joining them at the table.
“You’re not good for a man’s ego, bro,” complained Nick.
“Thanks, Steve,” Shari said, laughing.
Shari was glad that some of the heaviness of the morning had lifted from the group, at least for now, and they could joke around a bit.
After lunch, Shari told Lily that she had to leave for the airport and Lily gave her instructions on where they would meet up in Miami. She said her goodbyes to the rest of the band and headed for the door.
“Hold up, Shari. I’ll walk you to your room,” offered Nick and she gladly accepted.
“So what will you be doing until Miami?” he asked as they got in the elevator.
“I’m going to spend a few days with my mum since she’ll be going to Barbados for Christmas.”
“Barbados? Awesome! I was there last year. Have you ever been?”
“Not yet, but I plan to someday. My great grandparents came from Barbados and we still have family there. I did a family tree a few years ago and managed to track down some relatives, so my mother has been in touch with them and is going to visit in Christmas.”
“Really?”
“Yes. My great grandfather was from Barbados. He helped to build the Panama Canal, like a lot of Barbadians, and after that was finished he moved to New York and once he’d established himself he sent for my great grandmother. They had four children. My grandfather married an Italian immigrant and they had my mother who married my dad, who was also of mixed race, and they had me.”
“You’re definitely an exotic mixture.” Shari smiled and changed the subject.
“What are you going to do with your unexpected holiday?”
“I think I’ll go visit my parents too. My mother called me this morning to see how I was and begged me to come and stay for the few days. I’ll use that opportunity to tell her that you’ll be coming for Christmas.”
“About that, please don’t feel that you have to. I know Lily put you in an awkward position.” They were now outside her door.
“I know I don’t have to, Shari, but I want to. See you in Miami,” he added, walking away, “and say hello to your mum. Tell her not to stop praying for me.”
Shari opened her door and went inside, wondering why she felt so disappointed that Nick hadn’t kissed her again.
Chapter 13
Silence greeted Tim as he unlocked the door of his oceanfront condo and dropped his suitcases in the foyer. The place had an empty feeling to it that told him that his wife was out, or she had left again. Strolling into the kitchen, he saw that the percolator had the remains of coffee in it and there was a cup draining in the dish rack. At least there weren’t two cups, he observed, so maybe she’d been alone. With the way things were going, he wouldn’t have been surprised to walk in and find her in bed with his best friend or found that she’d left again. At least the joke about the drummer being homeless when he broke up with his girlfriend didn’t apply to him; he owned the condo free and clear. If Sarah left, she’d be the one who’d be homeless. She’d sold her place when they’d gotten married.
Opening the pantry door, he found a bottle of vodka and a glass and poured himself a shot. The fridge yielded up some orange juice which he used to add a little color to his drink. The deck overlooking the beach beckoned to him and offered a bit of solace that he badly needed. He unlocked and slid back the glass door and took a deep breath of the fresh air. The brisk breeze seasoned with salt blew over him, temporarily taking away his tiredness and depression.
However, by the time he leaned against the hand rails and raised the glass to his lips, the reality of his situation crashed on him like the waves pounding the sand just yards away. When he’d been arrested last year for possession, he’d thought that he was done for, but, thankfully, Brad had gotten some fancy lawyer to get him off. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to count on Brad for help this time. Brad had fired him. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually been fired. Not to mention that he’d been ordered to check into a rehab center or else that hypocrite, Shari Goodwin, would press charges.
She wanted it; he knew she did. It was just because Nick came in that made her act like she didn’t. He tossed back the rest
of his drink. What the hell did he need rehab for? He was fine. He hadn’t had anything in days. Well, two days. He wondered if his local guy could sort something out for him today.
“Tim?” Sarah’s voice caused him to stop the search of his contact list. She appeared in the doorway, looking bewildered.
“Hi, darlin’,” Tim greeted her, crossing the deck to pull her into an embrace. She stood stiffly in his arms. Her reception was about as warm as the ocean at this time of the year.
“I heard about the tragedy in Chicago. Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m doing better now. The concert in Cincinnati was cancelled because of what happened in Chicago so we have a few days off.” Shoot, how was he supposed to tell her he got fired? Maybe Brad would give him another chance if he told him he’d found a rehab center and he would check himself into it after the tour.
“I saw you guys on TV yesterday. Did you go to take flowers to the victim’s families?”
“Nah, the guys were going today, but I had to catch my plane around the same time.” That was pretty lame and he could see that Sarah thought so too. “So, how are you doing?”
“I’m OK. I’ve started painting again and it’s helping me to deal with stuff.”
“Good. Good.” He sounded distracted.
Sarah was an artist, although before they’d met she had put her art on the shelf to pursue a career in advertising so that she could pay the bills. However, after they’d gotten married, she had started to paint again and had begun to have fairly good success. She’d claimed that she’d lost her desire to paint when they’d begun to have trouble in their marriage. Tim really didn’t know what her issue was. While he was flying from city to city and living in hotel rooms to earn a living, she was enjoying their condo by the beach with the studio that he’d added on for her. What did she have to complain about?
“What about you? Are you and Nick getting on any better?”
“We have our ups and downs.” What an understatement, especially since it was all down at the moment. Not meeting her eyes, he walked over to a lounge chair and settled onto it. She followed him over to the chair.
“Are you still doing coke?” she asked, looking down at him. Boy, she didn’t believe in circling the runway. She didn’t understand that he just used it to deal with the pressure of being in the business. He could handle it, so he wished she would stop adding to the pressure. And he hoped she wouldn’t start about the women she believed that he slept with on the road. They didn’t mean anything to him.
“I haven’t had anything for a while.” Two days was a while.
She gazed steadily at him as if she was trying to discern if he was telling the truth or not. He must have looked convincing enough because she nodded slightly and turned to go back inside.
“I’m going to my studio. I just popped out to buy some supplies. Do you need anything?”
Only my wife to love me again and my job back, he thought morosely. “No. I’m fine. I have everything I need. I’ll see you later. Maybe we can go out to dinner.”
“Sure.” She didn’t sound very enthusiastic.
Maybe I would have had a better reception at the rehab center, he thought, finishing his drink.
Sarah closed the door to her studio. It was a beautiful room with light pouring in through huge windows which also provided a great view of the deck and the beach. As she looked across at the deck she could see Tim on his cell phone talking to someone. Probably his supplier. He’d said that he hadn’t used anything in a while, but she knew it couldn’t have been a long while or he would have been more agitated. She knew the signs by now. She wished he would get help. Both times she’d left he’d promised to clean up, but it never lasted. At least when he was on the road she didn’t have to deal with his habit, but then she had to deal with seeing him in the media with some woman or the other. That’s when she’d stopped sleeping with him. After all, she didn’t want to get some STD.
Their marriage was dead. She should just go ahead and call the undertaker, a good divorce lawyer. She didn’t really know what was stopping her. Did she still love Tim? Looking at him stretched out on the deck chair, she felt nothing but pity for him. She hated to see him destroying himself that way. Why couldn’t he just clean up and be the man she’d met four years ago? He had been such fun to be with and he’d been so crazy about her. What had happened? Did it start when the label had begun to promote Nick and dropped the name of the band? She could understand how he felt, but it wasn’t as if they were suffering financially because of it. If anything, the band was making more money from tours and records than ever before.
Something nagged at her. Tim had said he was home for a few days but, judging by the amount of luggage he had left by the front door, he wasn’t home for only a few days. If that was so, he would have sent on a couple of bags to the next city in the tour. Wait, it was here in Miami, wasn’t it? Maybe he was telling the truth. She would soon find out.
She dug in her handbag and pulled out her cell phone. She typed in “Nick” and Nick Badley’s number popped up. If her paintings stopped selling she could always auction off his number, she thought wryly. She was joking, of course. She liked Nick in spite of his less than pristine image. He’d always been good to her and had called her and given her his number when she had left Tim the first time. It was because of him that she’d given Tim another chance.
Clicking on the number, she sat down and angled her chair so that she could see if Tim got up. She didn’t want him overhearing her conversation.
“Sarah?” Nick sounded surprised to hear her.
“Hi, Nick. How are you doing?”
“I’m OK, considering everything that happened. Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Tim’s home for a few days and I’m inspired to paint. What more could I ask?”
“Great.” He waited for her to continue, knowing that if everything was so fine she wouldn’t be calling him.
“Nick, is everything OK with you and Tim?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Since you’ve answered my question with another question, I know that you’re avoiding giving me an answer.”
Nick gave a brief laugh. “You’re not slow, Sarah. Look, I’m sorry, but the truth is that Tim has been fired from the band.”
“Fired?” That was the last thing Sarah expected to hear. “What for? Or can I guess? It’s drugs, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, Sarah. Among other things.” No way would he tell her what “other things” he was referring to. She had enough on her plate without hearing that her husband tried to sexually assault another woman.
“I don’t know what to do, Nick. He needs help, but he won’t admit it. He told me that he hasn’t had anything for a while, but I’m not convinced. He said that he was home for a few days! He never said anything about getting fired.” Tears pricked her eyes as hopelessness settled on her. She suddenly felt too drained to even contemplate picking up her paintbrush. How could she feel so inspired to paint one minute and so totally empty the next?
“I’m sorry, Sarah. Brad gave him an ultimatum and told him to check himself into rehab because he isn’t getting any better and he’s angry all the time and not performing at his best.”
“What’s he going to do, Nick? The band is his life.”
Nick felt bad, but then the image of Shari’s terrified face caused his heart to harden.
“You need to convince him to get help or he’s not going to like the consequences.”
“What do you mean?” Sarah sensed that there was something that Nick wasn’t saying, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to hear what it was anyway, even as she asked the question.
“I mean that he’ll find it hard to get back into a band again,” Nick prevaricated.
Sarah nodded distractedly although Nick couldn’t see her. “OK, Nick. Thanks. I’ll talk to him and see if he will listen to me.”
“Good luck. Call me anytime you need to.”
“Thanks.”
>
Nick disconnected the call. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Sarah just how low her husband had sunk. He really hoped that Tim would try and sort himself out. He knew of too many people in the business who had messed up their lives and their careers because of drugs. That’s why he’d stopped that scene a few years ago. He had too much at stake to mess around with drugs.
Tim disconnected the call angrily. He’d been calling his guy every five minutes and the call was going straight to voicemail. He needed something now. The more he thought about not being able to contact his man, the more anxious he felt. He didn’t know where he could go to score in his town and be discreet about it.
The sound of the sliding door made him close in eyes in frustration. What did Sarah want now? He thought she’d be engrossed in her painting for a long time.
“Tim? Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fired?”
He sat up abruptly. “Who the hell told you that?”
“I just spoke to Nick –”
“Nick told you I’ve been fired? I bet he couldn’t wait to call and tell you why. But it’s a lie –”
“He didn’t tell me anything and I’m the one who called him. I assume it was because of your drug use. Is there another reason?”
Tim didn’t answer, but she could see that he was fuming inside.
“Tim, you need to get help. I want to help you, but if you’re not willing to help yourself then I’m out of here. I can’t take this anymore. I really tried, but this is the last time. You either check into rehab or I’m leaving and for good this time.” She quickly turned and walked hurriedly back inside, heading for the solace of her studio.
Tim dropped his head into his hands in despair. Everything felt as if it was against him. He’d lost his job and he was about to lose his freedom if he checked in to rehab and, if he didn’t give up his freedom, he’d lose his wife. This was all Nick’s fault. He seemed to live a charmed life while his seemed to be cursed. Well, if he was going down, then Nick was going with him.