“Why don’t you want to go to Asia? When we started talking about it before the tour started you were all excited to play the Budokan like the Beatles and now all the sudden you don’t want to go.”
“Maybe we’ve been working too damn much, huh? Shit, we’ve either been on the road or in the studio for three years now and we’ve got a couple of months left in this leg before we go to Europe. I don’t even have a home anymore. I live out of suitcases.”
“It’s the nature of the beast. You knew that when you signed on. Besides, I know you. The only time you’re really alive is when you’re onstage.”
Because when he was onstage, somebody loved him. When he was offstage, nobody did. “I miss you, Candy.”
Candy took a step backward. “Let’s stick to the topic.”
“Why can’t this be the topic?”
“Because you’re tired and upset about something and you’re not making rational decisions.”
“Damn.” Tyler leaned on the wall.
Candy stepped forward again and put her hand on his arm. “Tyler, why don’t you want to go to Asia?”
“Why don’t you want to talk?”
“Because you’re using it as an excuse to not talk about why you don’t want to go to Asia. We are not having a relationship discussion because the relationship is over. We are having a business discussion because we are still in business together and Sandy is tired of dealing with you guys.”
“How’s Joe doing?”
“Remission and you’re off topic again. We were talking about the tour. It is going to tack another three weeks on to your travel time, but in the greater scheme of things, that’s not so long and you stand to gain a lot. Not to mention what you stand to lose by backing out of the contracts.” She chewed her lips. “We were talking about the vaccinations for the trip. Is that what’s bothering you?”
“Why do we need them? Can’t we just go?”
“It is the vaccinations.” Candy leaned on the far wall and started laughing.
“What is so fucking funny?”
“I’ve just spent months holding Joe’s hands through hundreds of needles in two rounds of chemo and you’re afraid of a couple of immunizations.”
“I’m not afraid.”
She stared at him.
“I don’t like needles.”
“I see that. What can we do to make it easier?”
“Drug me?”
“I think that might mess up the vaccinations, but we can ask.”
Talk to me? Tell me you love me? “Will you hold my hand?”
“Hold your hand?”
For the sensation of her fingers around his again he could face any monster. “Like you did for Joe. I know it’s not the same, but it would make me feel better.” Especially if you said you loved me. If you’d give me another chance.
She sighed. “The things I do for you boys. All right. I’ll hold your hand if you’ll promise to go to Asia. Let me go tell Sandy so we can schedule it.”
Tyler watched her walk back into the room. At least she wasn’t pissed at him anymore. She’d somehow shut down the part of her that loved him. If he asked nice, maybe she’d tell him how she did it, because the part of him that loved her was still a gaping wound no needles were ever going to get closed.
* * * *
“What did he say?” Jason asked.
Candy surveyed the hotel room. Three years later and another hotel room. This time all the boys were paying attention. Probably because Sandy wasn’t there to pay attention for them. They’d been upgraded in that time, too. Now, instead of two double beds, they rated a suite. Sandy really shouldn’t be touring with the band anymore. Now that they had an office in L.A. he could hire a tour manager and hand off some of the responsibility. Then again, if the boys were going to be this irresponsible, they might solve that issue themselves. “He said he wasn’t going to bury anyone else and he wasn’t going to be responsible if you guys were going to get yourselves killed.”
“We’re not going to get ourselves killed.” Bear sulked. “We were having some fun. We never get to have fun anymore.”
Candy leaned on the desk. “God, Tessa is right. This is like dealing with a bunch of kids.”
“We’re not kids. We’re all legal age.” Bear started rolling a Coke can between his fingers making the aluminum crackle.
“Which is why you called me in a panic three days ago because Sandy quit and walked out on you. And, may I remind you that there is no legal age for heroin? That’s illegal for everybody.”
“It was a party. The guys in SendDown were having a party.” Bear crumpled the can in his hand and started pressing it flat with his fingers. He had a wall of pop cans on the bus.
“The guys in SendDown are always having a party. Their drummer hasn’t been sober in six months.”
“Can’t you talk Sandy into coming back? We can’t trust anybody else.” Marc pulled a cigarette out of the pack in the nightstand and broke it.
“Okay, let’s get this straight. Sandy started being your manager because he was your high school business math teacher and he knew you were going to get screwed over and screwed up. He promised all your parents except Marc’s that he’d keep an eye on you and make sure you were safe.”
“He’s not our teacher anymore.”
“He’s still your designated responsible adult. None of you seem to be ready to take up the job.” Candy snuck a glance at Tyler, but he was picking threads out of the comforter and hadn’t had a word to say yet. “Plus, the last time we saw each other was over an open grave.”
“Joe died of cancer,” Brian pointed out.
“The last time before that was over an open grave, too.”
“My mother drank for years. Cirrhosis and emphysema were neck and neck.” Marc rubbed the back of his neck.
“That doesn’t change the fact that Sandy has had to bury four people in the last eight years starting with his wife. He’s not going to bury anybody else if he can say anything about it.”
They all had their mouths open to protest, but she held up a hand to stop them.
“Tessa ran the death rates for various narcotics and for musicians. Old age isn’t the top cause of death in either list.”
“Four?” Tyler asked.
“What?”
“You said four people. His wife, Joe, Marc’s mom. Who else?”
Candy looked at the carpet. Why did every single hotel have the same shitty tan carpet? “My dad died in a car accident last year. He was drunk at the time.”
“Jesus, why didn’t you tell us?” Tyler stood up. “Candy, I’d have come if you told me. Why would you keep something like that from me?”
“You were in the middle of recording and it wasn’t that big a deal.”
“Wasn’t a big deal? Candy, it was your dad.”
“Oh, God. I’m sorry I brought it up. Look, you brought me here to talk about Sandy.” Suddenly, Candy could smell the wet greenery of the floral arrangements. The dim, cool room. Wood paneling, red carpet and matching drapes. Dozens of people coming around to tell her what a wonderful man her father was, completely unaware that she hadn’t seen the man for years despite living in the same city. Helen flew in from California. Ronnie and Tanya had come from New York, where Ronnie was recording. Ricky had been in Australia on a shoot or he would have come, too. She hadn’t told anyone else. Sandy held her hand and she sobbed. Not for her dad, but for Joe who had been more of a father to her and had been gone for less than a year. “Sandy doesn’t want to abandon you, but he can’t bear to see any of you destroy yourselves on his watch.”
“We’re not going to destroy ourselves,” Marc grumbled.
“Odds are you will and even if you don’t, it’s not going to help you any. The road to fame and fortune is littered with the bodies of also-rans who crashed and burned. Tessa wrote a report on it for your reading pleasure.”
“Great. Homework,” Brian grumbled.
“It never ends. Personally, I don’t care what you do.”
“That’s cold.” Jason folded his arms.
“Then let me rephrase. If you destroy yourselves, I will cry at your funeral, but I don’t feel it’s my place to tell you one way or another. You’re all big boys and you can make your own decisions. One of those decisions is the choice between the full rock star party and Sandy. And on that note, I’m going to go back to my room. I’m going to need a decision by tomorrow morning before ten because that’s when I have to leave for my flight.” She picked up her purse and started for the door.
“Candy, wait.” Tyler grabbed her arm, pulling her into the hall. “Why didn’t you tell me about your dad?”
“I told you. You were in the middle of recording the last album. I got the call early on a Wednesday and had him in the ground by Friday.”
“You could have come to the studio and hung out with us at least.”
“You were busy. It was fine. I don’t know what you’re so worried about it. It was months ago.”
“I don’t like to think of you alone through that.” He stroked her arm.
Candy forced herself to ignore how good that felt. “I wasn’t alone. Tessa and I went to New York for the weekend and hung out with Tanya and Ricky, and some of their friends. We were in US Magazine. I was mislabeled as their sister.”
“Really?” Tyler looked a little gray.
“Yeah, they ran a picture of the three of us walking out of a club and captioned it Ronnie Bauer’s children, Tanya, Candy, and Ricky. They ran a retraction the next week, but you know how that goes. Once something like that is out in the world, you can’t retract it convincingly. And Ronnie loves to screw with people so he’s saying something different every time somebody asks. I’m going to go back to my room. I have some work to do.” Candy stepped away from him. “Let me know when you reach a decision.”
“You know what we’re going to decide.” He trailed after her as she walked toward the elevators.
“Yeah, but let me live in suspense for at least an hour.” She jabbed the call button. Maybe it would be better to take the stairs.
“Hey Candy! You still out there?” Brian leaned out of the room. “Great. You’re still here. Want to have dinner?”
“Dinner?”
Brian strolled down the hall, grinning. “I can’t stand these guys for another day. Help me, Candy, you’re my only hope.”
“Okay.” Candy glanced at Tyler. If he’d noshed on a whole lemon, he’d have a cheerier expression. What was he pissed off about now? Not getting an invite to her dad’s funeral? Like that had been fun. He couldn’t be angry about the press calling her Ronnie Bauer’s kid. He had always been jealous of the relationship she had with Ricky, being labeled as his sister could only be a good thing.
“Fantastic.” Brian spun around to run back to the room.
Crap. In ten seconds she was going to be the entertainment at a band dinner. “Brian! Just you, okay? I don’t want to deal with the whole three-ring circus.” The elevator doors opened behind her. She stepped inside.
“Sure thing, you and me.”
The doors closed in front of her. Double crap. Tyler probably thought she was excluding him. Maybe she should call and tell him he could come to dinner, too. But as fun as he’d been a few minutes ago, she’d rather not. Brian was fun and light and wouldn’t come over all heavy on her because he didn’t invite him to her father’s funeral of all things.
* * * *
Tyler spotted Candy from halfway across the party. A second later, he registered Frankie and groaned. If he’d known this was going to happen he’d have skipped this event.
“What?” Marc asked. “Oh. She brought her new arm candy.”
Tyler turned back. Candy looked amazing. Jeans, heels, yellow top, diamonds. He hadn’t seen her in person since the Sandy thing eight months ago and she still looked like a million. All for Frankie who had decked out in expensively worn jeans and a wife-beater shirt. Make that, Candy had decked him out. He wasn’t just her boyfriend, he was her client, and she was good at what she did. Very good. Which was why she was leading him over here right now, to make it look like he was running with the big dogs.
“Slimy little one-hit wonder,” Marc muttered, hiding his comment by taking a sip from his glass. Then he put on the big smile. “Candy!”
“Hi, Tyler. Marc.” Candy let go of Frankie to put her hands on his shoulders and kiss his cheek. Then she did the same to Marc. Did she linger a moment longer on his cheek than Marc’s or was it wishful thinking? “You know Frankie.”
“I’ve heard him. Nice tune.” Marc shook Frankie’s hand so Tyler did, too.
Frankie draped his arm over her shoulders. Bastard. Marc and Frankie started making small talk about Frankie’s newest album that had dropped a couple of days ago. Candy listened politely. Tyler tried to pay attention to the conversation, but he was distracted by Candy. Did she look tired? Anxious? Unhappy? Had she looked like that last month when they were setting up the last details of the publicity for the new album?
“Tessa said Bear was going off radar in about a month.” Candy leaned against Frankie. Didn’t she know she was killing him?
“Taking a vacation before we start tour rehearsals. He’s back home to pick up a car.”
“We’ll have to get together before Jason goes back to New York next week. He’s got to bounce through a couple of local markets on the way to push the single.”
“He’s thrilled.”
“You’ve got to go to New York?” Frankie asked.
“No, I’ve got to meet with the band before Jason goes back to New York. He’s scheduled for the Howard Stern Show in two weeks.” Candy stroked Frankie’s arm.
“How come you can’t get me on the Howard Stern Show?”
Marc caught his gaze and rolled his eyes.
“We’ve put together a great campaign for you.”
“But I’m not on Howard Stern.”
Candy gave him a blank look. Tyler knew that look too well. She wasn’t going to argue. The discussion ended. After a second, she slid her arm through Frankie’s. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Frankie stroked his fingers under her chin. “You better.”
Tyler bit back a groan. Did they have to do this right here in front of him?
“I’ll get you a drink.” Frankie kissed her cheek.
“Thank you.”
Frankie ambled off with that lucky-dumb-fuck look on his face that was getting him more magazine covers and airplay than he deserved.
“Still got it, don’t you?” Marc asked her after he’d walked away.
“Got what?”
“The ability to turn men into obedient Jell-O.”
“Fuck off,” Candy said.
“What are you doing with that moron anyway?” Marc asked. “Is he that good in bed?”
“Actually, yes and sometimes that’s all you need, isn’t it?”
Tyler swallowed a ball of acid making its way up his throat. “When do you want to get together. Next week good for you?”
Chapter 7
Candy clicked the refresh button again. No doubt about it. She had no more work to distract her. Being in the same place with Tyler and Frankie was like a science experiment where you put one hand in a bowl of warm water and the other in a bowl of ice water, but instead of canceling each other out, it had created a violent storm front all along her nerves.
When she walked into the room, Frankie set aside his guitar and held out his hand. Just the two of them for once. She slid down next to him.
“All done?” Frankie asked, slipping his hand down her back and tucking it into the waistband of her jeans.
“For now. I sent out a bunch of emails trying to get you some late night appearances.”
He laid her back on the couch, kissing her throat. “I love when you talk dirty.”
“We should move this into the bedroom be
fore we get too carried away.”
He bit her shoulder. “You are such a smoking’ babe I don’t want to wait. I’ll make it up to you later. And then again after that.”
“Thank you.”
He stretched out beside her. “I mean it. You are everything I ever wanted. Sweet and wonderful and sexy. And you taste fantastic.” He bit her again and she moaned.
She reached for his pants wanting to feel him inside her. All day she’d been wound up wanting to be touched. Frankie pulled at her clothes as if he needed her as much as she needed him. He was never as gentle as Tyler. Why was she even thinking about Tyler now?
“Damn it.” Frankie groped the end table. “Where are the fucking condoms?”
Candy batted his hand out of the way and pulled open the drawer. He sat up so she could rip it open and roll it on.
“I loved looking at you today, baby.” He nuzzled her neck, thrusting into her hard. “You are so fucking hot.”
“Yes. Harder.” Candy sank her nails into his back, arching to draw him deeper into her. She squeezed her eyes closed. “It’s wonderful. Wonderful. I was thinking about you too. Please, please.” The tension wound tighter and tighter until it unraveled. “Oh, God, Tyler!”
Frankie stopped moving.
Candy held her breath. She hadn’t said what she thought she’d said. She couldn’t have. It was impossible.
“You called me Tyler.” Frankie pulled away from her.
“It was an accident. I was with him all day and—”
“And what, Candy? You wanted to fuck him? You’re thinking about him while I’m fucking you?”
“No, not at all.” Panic clawed up her throat. “Please, Frankie. It was a mistake.”
“You fucking whore.” Frankie grabbed her arm, pulling her off the couch. Her knees banged against the floor sending shockwave of fear up her spine. “‘I’m done with him. It’s over.’ But you jump whenever there’s a chance to spend the day with him.”
“They’re my clients, too. Frankie, you’re hurting me.”
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