by Grace James
“I need to even this out,” I teased. “I’m going to start giving you hickeys. Mark you all up.”
He chuckled, warm breath skimming across my temple. “I got a picture of you tattooed on my back. I’m not marked up enough already?”
I laughed. “Oh, yeah…”
He stopped walking, pulling me around to face him. “‘Oh, yeah’? You forget that?”
Before I could answer, he locked his arms around me and kissed me. Indulgently. Softly. Slowly.
It was like being a teenager, when you first discover kissing, when it’s the whole game – not just the warm up act – and you do it for hours because it’s so new and exciting. His lips seared over mine as his tongue caressed my own, leaving me breathless, making my head spin. I don’t know how long we stood there, locked together among that sea of people, surrounded, but in our own little world of two.
But I remember feeling like nothing and no one could touch us.
Like we were invincible.
And nothing would ever tear us apart.
70
Blake Maxwell dates deceased cousin’s girlfriend!
When I saw that headline, I think my whole body went into shock.
My eyes darted over the magazine rack in the corner store – the very same corner store that I had seen that Eva Merchant story weeks before.
But this time, I was the story.
There was a picture of Blake and me from Global Citizen Festival a few days before. My arms and legs were wrapped around him, and his arms were locked around my waist as he kissed me silly.
And right next to that, there was a picture of me and Connor from years ago.
It was probably downloaded from Facebook, because I’d never removed them. In the picture, we were in the kitchen of Blake and Kane’s old house at one of their parties. I was sitting on the kitchen counter; Connor was standing in front of me between my legs and I was peeping over his shoulder as we both grinned at the camera. In a sick kind of parody of the picture of Blake and I, my arms and legs were curled around Connor from behind…and I knew, I could remember, that right after that picture was taken, he’d whirled around and kissed me hard and heavy – right there in front of everyone.
Oh…God…
Guilt.
Heavy and oppressive.
And it wasn’t because I thought that being with Blake was wrong – I knew it wasn’t – it was because that magazine cover made it look like neither of us gave a crap about Connor. Like him being gone somehow benefited us.
All I’m saying is, be prepared for the press to keep digging. And you know what they’ll discover.
Aiden knew the press would uncover my relationship with Connor. And he’d tried to warn us. Well, actually, he’d tried to warn Blake.
And you know what they’ll discover.
Feeling the vomit try to crawl up my throat, I clamped my teeth together and forced it down.
Blake knew.
The realization made me go cold. Blake had known this could happen…and he’d never said a word.
Grabbing a copy of the magazine from the rack, I tossed a ten at the clerk and ran out of the store. I didn’t wait for change. I didn’t look him in the eye. I didn’t want to know if he recognized me from the cover.
When I got to my car, I scrabbled through the magazine until I found the article:
Since images first emerged of Blake Maxwell and Amy Scott, we’ve all been wondering who this woman is, and how she’s managed to tame the bad boy of rock.
We thought our questions were answered when it emerged that Amy is the manager of The Academy, the Las Vegas music venue that hosted the star’s spur-of-the-moment show last month, but it turns out that Amy is much more to Blake than that.
The couple have a dark history – one that they’ve tried to keep quiet.
A source close to the couple has revealed that Amy used to date Blake’s cousin, Connor Maxwell, who was the original drummer for Sons of Sinners. The pair dated for almost a year before Connor’s untimely death three years ago.
But it doesn’t end there. Our source also revealed that Blake and Amy were romantically involved before Connor’s death, only ending their tryst when he died tragically of a drug overdose.
The source also suggested that Connor discovered that Blake and Amy were having in a secret affair just weeks before his death, leading friends of the deceased drummer to wonder: could this be what triggered Connor’s relapse?
Blake has never spoken publicly about his cousin, and friends of the drummer claim that it’s a guilty conscience that keeps Blake quiet on the subject.
I sat with my hand over my mouth as I read.
Who the ‘source’ was, I had no idea. The ‘friends of the drummer’ I could probably guess at, though. Matt or Luke – Connor’s old stoner buddies – or Carley, his ex before me. In fact, any of them could also have been the ‘source’. I wouldn’t put it past them to have gone to the press.
And the way the whole thing was phrased – like Blake and I being together had actually caused Connor’s death…
My breath was coming fast and hard as I threw the magazine down on the passenger seat. I jerked my car into gear and raced across the city to Hayley and Derren’s place. I knew Blake was working in the studio with the rest of the band and Aiden, who had returned to Vegas with us from the festival.
When I entered the studio – with Hayley following closely behind me after I’d frantically waved the magazine in her face at the front door – Blake was behind the glass, at the mic, with his eyes squeezed shut as he sang. The sound of his voice travelled crisp and clear through the studio monitors.
Aiden, Nick, and the other Sons guys all jumped when we shoved the door open – but Aiden’s eyes immediately took on a knowing look when he saw the crumpled pages clutched in my hand. “You’ve seen it,” he stated.
“Yeah,” I agreed breathlessly. “Has he?!” I pointed to Blake, who was still singing behind the soundproofed glass, oblivious.
“He’s aware of it,” was Aiden’s calm response.
Kane frowned as he pushed himself up off the couch where he’d been sitting. “What is it, Amy?”
Wordlessly, I held up the magazine.
His eyes went wide. “Jesus Christ!”
“Oh, shit,” muttered Danny.
“The fuck?!” Derren jumped up and grabbed it off me for a closer look before whirling on Aiden. “You knew about this?”
“Yes,” he said, completely unrepentantly. “I discussed it with Blake this morning.”
I gaped at him, dumbfounded and disbelieving. “If Blake knew, he would’ve told me,” I said adamantly.
Aiden’s lips thinned. “Obviously not.”
Blake’s vocals faltered. I looked through the glass to see him frowning at me. “That what I think it is?” he asked, nodding to the magazine Derren was holding.
“What do you think it is?” I asked.
“He can’t hear you,” Nick spoke up. “Hang on.” He flicked a switch near a microphone on the desk. “Here, you can talk through this.”
Before I could get close enough to do as he said, Blake’s voice sounded through the monitors again. “If it is, toss it out. It’s just fucking vultures trying to make a buck.” He looked at Nick. “Let’s go again.”
For a second, there was silence.
I was staring at Blake.
He was pointedly not looking at me.
“You heard him,” Aiden said to Nick. “Run the track again.”
“Wait,” I said as I moved to the microphone. “Is this thing still on?” I asked Nick.
“Yeah, Princess,” Blake replied for him. “But I’m working, okay?”
“Yeah, and I should be too,” I snapped, my disbelief giving way to anger. “But I saw this, and came right over here to see you – to see if you’re okay.”
His face didn’t show a hint of emotion. “I am.”
“Well, I’m not! We need to talk about it.”
“Not no
w.”
“Yes now!” I cried in exasperation, wondering how the hell he could stand there so calm and detached when I felt like my brain was about to cave in.
To my right, I saw Aiden pinch the bridge of his nose as he let out a sigh.
“No, not now,” Blake growled.
Furious now, I whirled away from the glass and stomped to the soundproofed doors that led to the other part studio where Blake was standing. When I stormed through, he shot me a look of pure exasperation.
“Princess –”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?!”
“Look, we’ve been over this before. It’s not important what they print.”
“This is different! It’s our life. It’s Connor’s life! Twisted up and smeared all over the front of –”
“WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS!”
His roar took me by surprise, making me recoil before I could stop myself. Jaw bunching, Blake turned away, pacing across the studio with his hands locked behind his neck.
I suddenly became very aware of everyone watching us through the glass…watching as he just dismissed me…
“Fine,” I said quietly, only just keeping a lid on the waver in my voice. “Then I guess I’ll just leave you to get back to work. Excuse me for caring.”
Then I stormed out.
71
I drove back across the city to The Academy doing what I always do when I’m so angry I can’t think straight: play American Head Charge at full blast.
I couldn’t believe someone could stoop low enough to print a story like that in the first place – without at least possessing any of the real facts of the situation.
And then Blake’s reaction?
To just shut me down, shut me out, push me away?
It just didn’t make sense. And not after how close we’d become – and not after the weekend we’d spent together
I was so caught up in my own internal bubbling anger that, when I first pulled into the parking lot at work, I didn’t notice the small crowd of people waiting around. I’d actually gotten out of my car and started towards the front doors before the flashing cameras alerted me to what was going on.
Reporters everywhere.
“Amy! Care to make a comment on the story that broke this morning?”
“How did you feel, knowing that your cheating on Connor caused his suicide?”
Suicide?! What the hell?!
“Over here, Amy! Is it true that Blake blames himself for his cousin’s death?”
“Do you feel responsible, Amy?”
I practically ran to the doors of the venue, before scrambling inside and slamming them shut again in the faces of the scavengers crowded outside. My hands were shaking as I pulled my cell from my purse and called Blake, our argument falling to the back of my mind in the face of my panic. “Come on, come on,” I muttered as it rang and rang, only to go to voicemail.
The next three calls did the same.
Half an hour later, when he still hadn’t called me back, I put American Head Charge on in there, too.
72
“How you doing in here?”
Harvey stood in the doorway to my office, arms crossed over the maroon vest he was wearing over his t-shirt. He’d been working downstairs with Candice and Lance since we opened that evening, while I hid out behind the scenes.
“Okay,” I lied.
He nodded and walked over to me. “Phone behind the bar’s been ringing off the hook. Someone offered me a hell of a lot of cash to convince you to give them an ‘exclusive’.”
“You think I should sell my story?” I asked dryly.
“Just passing the message on. And of course I don’t. I like being one of the only people on the planet who knows what really happened.” He grinned and I gave him a small smile in return. “Has Blake called you back yet?”
I shook my head no at the same instant that my phone started to ring.
Sighing, I picked it up, expecting to see another unknown number, and therefore another reporter asking me to talk. But this time Mrs. Flint’s name was on the screen. I frowned as I answered the call from my neighbor.
“Oh, Amy, thank goodness you answered. I know you’re probably at work, but there are people here looking for you. Reporters. They’re asking about you and your young man.”
“Oh, God, I’m sorry if they’re bothering you.” I sighed, feeling guilty that she was once again being dragged into my drama.
“Don’t you worry about me. I’ve told them in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t LOWER myself to gossiping about my neighbors.”
I couldn’t help smiling at the disdain in her voice.
“I just thought you should know they’re here,” she continued, “and that they’re even going through your GARBAGE. I called the police before I called you, but they told me that unless they’re actually breaking in or trespassing there’s nothing they can do.”
My head dropped into my hand. “My garbage? I thought that type of thing was just a myth.”
“Oh, no. I took pictures.”
“You did?!”
“Yes,” she sniffed. “See how they like it.”
“You’re the best, Mrs. Flint.”
“I don’t know about that, but I do know that it would be a good idea for you to stay away from here tonight.”
“I think you’re right,” I agreed.
Now, if only my boyfriend would pick up his damn phone, I could arrange to stay with him instead.
But three hours later, when Harvey and Lance walked me across the parking lot to my Honda, through the camera flashes and the questions, Blake still hadn’t returned a single one of my calls.
73
Hayley answered the door in her pajamas, looking bleary eyed but sympathetic.
When I’d called and told her what was going on, she’d immediately invited me to go spend the night. Since Hayley and Derren’s house was in a gated community, you couldn’t just walk in there without permission, so there was no way the paparazzi could just show up outside their place.
As soon as she saw me, standing all pathetic on her doorstep, she pulled me into a hug before leading me through the house to where Derren was making hot chocolate in the kitchen, wearing plaid pajama pants that were in complete contrast to his usual rocker image.
I took a seat on one of the stools around the island as he handed me a steaming cup.
“Thanks,” I said. “I haven’t had hot chocolate in ages.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome. Hayley makes it for me whenever I have a shitty day.”
“God, you guys are so cute I could puke,” I murmured before taking a sip. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I didn’t know what else to do, and Blake is…kind of ignoring me.” I had to force those last words out around the lump that had formed in my throat.
I got why Blake was finding this whole thing hard – despite his unwillingness to even admit that much – but it hurt that he’d just shut me out.
When I’d woken up with him that morning, I felt like we were solid and could take on anything together. Now I felt like we were a tower of glass, swaying in the wind.
“It’s nothing personal, Amy,” Derren assured me.
“Yeah…it feels pretty personal, though.”
Derren just nodded silently.
“You want some ice cream?” Hayley offered.
“…with hot chocolate?”
“You haven’t lived unless you’ve had them at the same time.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
“I got it,” Derren said, moving to the freezer.
“And then how about we watch trash on TV until we can’t keep our eyes open?” Hayley asked. “I DVR’d a Sixteen and Pregnant marathon last week.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Ew – but yeah, I’m in.”
She grinned. “Atta girl, Care Bear.”
“Don’t,” I warned her, pointing a finger at her. “Do. Not.”
74
A couple of hours later, I fell
into the guest bed in a borrowed pair of Hayley’s pajamas and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t even try to sleep, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to anyway.
I forced myself not to check my phone again to see if Blake had called.
At that point, I wasn’t even sure that I’d answer if he did.
I felt like he’d abandoned me. He’d left me to discover the story all on my own. Then he’d forced me to deal with the press intrusion alone, too.
And I just bet there were no paparazzi waiting outside his hotel suite. They wouldn’t even get past the lobby in the Bellagio, where he was still staying, but here I was not even able to go home.
My family were worried too. They had been since I’d started dating Blake again, but now it was getting to the point where my dad was talking about coming to visit me to see for himself that I really was okay. I knew if he was talking about visiting without planning it weeks in advance, like he usually did, it must mean he was really concerned.
A light knock on the bedroom door nearly made me jump out of my skin. The door opened before I could even sit up in bed –
And there stood Blake.
“Hey, Princess,” he said softly as he stepped into the room and closed the door gently behind him.
“…what are you doing here?” I breathed, pushing myself up on to my elbows.
“Derren called me. Told me what’s been going down.”
“I called you, too –”
“I know,” he said on a sigh as he walked across the room to stand at the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry, baby, I had no idea they’d be following you like that. I should’ve fucking figured – but I didn’t. Are you okay?”
“No,” I admitted with a small shake of my head. “Not really.”
He winced. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said again as he climbed up onto the bed and crawled up alongside me, lying on his stomach on top of the sheets. He reached out to cup my cheek, skimming the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone. “I should’ve handled this whole thing differently.”