Say It Strong (Say You Love Me Book 2)

by Virna DePaul

  Planting ourselves on the edge of the fountain’s circular stone border, we tore pieces off the pastry and nibbled at them. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Ma asked.

  “Very,” I said. Mmm. Best pastry ever.

  Ma stared into the fountain with a sad smile, remembering. “You know, Abby…beautiful days in Manhattan will always be, whether it’s raining, snowing, breezy, cloudy, or whatever.”

  I smirked, tilting my head like a dog who’s just heard a high-pitched whistle. “What are you getting at, Ma?” My Mom-O-Meter knew when she was about to jump atop her soapbox. Frankly, I was a bit frightened.

  Her frail, thin shoulders shrugged. “All I mean is that New York City will be here for you when you get back.”

  “Back from what?”

  She faced me, giving me an easy nod. “From the tour.”

  “I’m not on the tour anymore.”

  “Abby, you need to go back.”

  “What? Why do I need to go back?” I snapped at her. “There’s no way. I’m here for good. Going in the first place was a mistake. Correction, getting involved with Liam was a mistake.” I scoffed. “There are plenty of things I liked about him, Ma, but there’s one thing I don’t.” I put down the piece of bear claw I was about to eat before she started all this, suddenly not hungry. I don’t know why I was bordering on anger right now, but I was. “And that one thing has the potential to destroy me.”

  My mother listened, but I could tell she was not going to agree. I hated when she wasn’t on my side. “Abby,” she said softly, “getting in a car has the potential to hurt you. Walking onto a train has the potential to hurt you. Stepping outside into the world has the potential to hurt you.” The wrinkles around her eyes said I needed to listen, but I didn’t like where she was going with her typical mom life analogies. “The potential to get hurt is everywhere, all the time. Does that mean you shouldn’t go outside?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not the same thing.”

  “It is the same thing. You took a risk by taking that job, okay. And you took a risk by letting that boy into your heart, fine. But then, the moment something didn’t go well, you ran away.”

  I turned, giving her my shoulder. “It’s not that it didn’t go well. He ruined it.”

  “He apologized, didn’t he?”

  Oh, yes. Via a hundred texts, via a song, via a heart-rending fuck against a mirror, but she didn’t need to know that. “Are you saying I can’t come home to you when I need you, Mother?”

  “Of course you can. What I’m saying is, you need to try again.” She took my hands, knocking a piece of bear claw to the ground, an invitation to surrounding pigeons to come and partake. “Hurt is everywhere, Abby, but you can’t stay in your safe room your whole life. Getting that job with Rosemary was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. How many people would give anything for the chance to tour with Point Blank?”

  “Point Break.”

  “Whatever.” She flapped her hand around. “The point is, not all fruit is rotten. Not all animals bite.”

  “How is that a point?”

  “Abby!” A rush of breath escaped her lips. She thought quietly for a while, while I considered all she was saying. I wasn’t deliberately trying to challenge her, but she didn’t know the whole story. She faced me again, her eyes aglow with wisdom. I could tell that if I didn’t listen to her now, she would never speak again on the subject.

  Tempting.

  “Not everyone is like your father,” she said, pausing to let that sink in. “I know you’re afraid. I know you don’t want anything to stop you from becoming Principal Cello the way life stopped me…but I’m happy, Abby. Life had new plans for me, and those plans were all about you. You were a new route that opened for me, and I was happy for that challenge. Do you understand that?”

  Great, now my eyes began leaking, and my mom squeezed my hands to drive her point home. I nodded.

  “Samuel is a good man,” she said.

  I couldn’t believe it. This was about Samuel? They were ganging up on me again? Ugh, I couldn’t take this. I was about to give her back her bear claw and walk away when she shook my hands again.

  “But Liam will keep you passionate for life.”

  I turned wide eyes on her. “What did you say?”

  “Liam, my darling… He was here several days ago, yes?”

  “How do you know that?”

  My mother’s glassy stare pierced through me. “Abby, please.”

  He had gone to the apartment first. Yes, of course. How else would he have known where to find me? I’d been so distraught over the whole thing, I hadn’t thought through the logistics. “What did he say to you?” I asked.

  “Abby, there are worse things in this world than a man who brings you flowers and declares his love for you,” she said, ignoring my question.

  “It’s not that simple,” I countered.

  “It is that simple, wô de ài.” She reached out to touch my cheek. “He loves you. He wants to take care of you. Abby, my love, my silly little daughter, I would have given anything for your father to have had the same look in his eyes as Liam had when he came for you.”

  “Ma…” I shook my head.

  “Yes, you may get hurt, but isn’t the risk worth the love he would give you? So many people never get that chance in their entire lifetime.”

  “You don’t know him. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “I know a good man when I see one,” she said almost angrily.

  “Are you sure about that?” I twisted my face at her.

  “Oh, sarcasm, I see. Okay…” She shifted in her seat, ready for the challenge. “No, I didn’t at first—you are right—but because of my experience with your father, I do now. Now, I know what to look for. Better than anyone else.”

  “Mm-hmm. What about the Philharmonic?” I gestured to Avery Fisher Hall. “Let’s suppose I do want to go back to Liam. I’m not going to give up my dream just so he can have me, Mom. I’m not a bauble or trinket to be won.”

  “Like how Samuel treats you?”

  “What do you mean?” I flipped my palm up at her.

  “Believe me, Abby. I am not a proponent of Samuel’s.”

  “Really? Because I couldn’t tell from the way you two were the other night. The way you were all chummy-chummy.”

  “We weren’t chummy-chummy. You were depressed. I wanted to see you get out of the house for one night. He’s good for that, at the very least.” She folded her hands queen-like in her lap, proud of herself and her actions. “Listen, you have the rest of summer left. Go and see what develops. If it is true that he wants to give you everything, you will have an apartment in this neighborhood before you know it. That will be his doing. And you will have your cello position. That will be your doing.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  I gazed across the courtyard, hoping sensible words would find their way out of my mouth. My mother had turned into a hopeless romantic. Who knew? And here I was thinking I was my mother’s daughter, all work, hard-core to the bone, making a life for myself. Meanwhile, she’d turned into a softy.

  Well, she was right about one thing—risk was everywhere, and I couldn’t hide in the safety of my world any longer to avoid it. But did that mean I should actively invite danger into my world? It was a tough choice, one that might take having the actual audition packet in my hand to help me make it.

  “I need to go inside now and get the audition packet,” I said, standing and slinging my purse onto my shoulder. Though I didn’t know what good it would do me to be accepted into the symphony orchestra and be happy about it if I had no one, except my mom, to share the good news with.

  “Good,” Ma said, pulling out her cooking magazine. “You go. I’ll wait here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Liam

  “Good evening, Philadelphia!”

  The stadium roared under darkening clouds spattered with quiet, spidery lightning.

  “How y’a
ll feeling tonight?” I cried into the mic then aimed it at the audience for a resounding reply. “Are you ready to rock?”

  The whole stadium rumbled like an enormous beast emerging from the bowels of Inner Earth. Camera flashes sparkled across the blanket of undulating hands. These were my people. They loved and accepted me. I loved them back, but it wasn’t the same as my love for Abby. Never had I thought that the one person whose respect and validation I wanted most wouldn’t want me in return.

  It was a fact I was going to have to live with. I’d made a mistake. Now I’d pay for it. Accepted. Not only was I out one incredible woman in my life, but the fans were out a great cello player, too, and little did they know, but they were about to lose a recently beloved song, too. We wouldn’t be performing Abby Shines tonight. I’d scratched it off the set list this morning. It hurt too much to sing it.

  “Let’s do this!” I shouted, and the energetic opening of Feel the Burn began, fueling the excitement, the fever, and pulse of the entire stadium. This. This was the biggest reason I did what I did—the connection with our fans over the music. That’s what it was all about.

  The legions of women who’d come to see us over the years didn’t get that. They thought it was about the glitz, the glam, money, cars, houses, boats, drugs, and shit. It wasn’t. I leaped, holding the mic stand, landing on my knees right as Wes’s guitar riff pounded.

  Abby understood.

  But Abby wasn’t here.

  She’d said she didn’t belong in my life, that it would change me from notorious, wild front man to someone I wasn’t, someone the fans didn’t want to see me become. She couldn’t bear the responsibility of causing that. Had she forgotten, though? Before I became a singer, before my image was spattered on the cover of magazines, before my tattoos wove the story of my life, I was a drama geek—an actor.

  And act, I would.

  *

  All I wanted the next morning was a bagel.

  I dragged my ass out of bed at 8:30 a.m.—earlier than sin—and ambled downstairs to the hotel meeting room for the mid-tour breakfast buffet we were hosting for all our staff. I’d asked Robbie if I could take a rain check—ixnay on the uffetbay—but he’d said, “No fucking way. You need to be there.”

  Asshole.

  I scraped my feet along the floor, still wearing my robe, beauty mask perched on my forehead, and ran into Nathan, who pointed me in the right direction. I saluted him with my rolled-up copy of The New York Times, which I had no intention of reading, but I looked cool holding it.

  Everyone was there already, bright and chipper. I wanted to smack every last one of them with the newspaper. No one should be so happy this early in the morning. Wes and Robbie and Corbin were there, but not Tucker. Not yet, anyway. All the roadies, the lighting crew, and the string section, including Abby’s friend Rosemary, were there. Her friend wavered at the end by the fruit bowl, glancing at me every so often. She gave me one of those smiles where you know she’s thinking, Look at you, you jerk…you despondent sack of shit. Actually, at a second glance, she looked like maybe she wanted to talk to me but didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was better if I stayed away from her. I couldn’t take another difficult conversation so close to the last one.

  Yes, yes, I know I’m the bad guy here, my eyes told her. Don’t rub it in.

  I finally found the bagels, toasted, and slathered mine with cream cheese. I felt a hard pat on my back. “Nice outfit,” Robbie said. “I see you’re proud of your review.” He pointed his chin at the newspaper under my arm.

  “What review? I was only holding this to look well-rounded and intellectual.”

  “Stop shitting me, Liam,” he whispered, his eyes falling on the newspaper. “Turn to the Arts section.”

  “Huh?” I did as he said, unfolding the paper and delving deeper into the review section. I rarely read the actual newspaper, except for the times my mom used to make me clip the coupons, considering all the stories were all online anyway. I found the article with the headline “Feel the Meh.”

  “Fuck me.”

  “Yeah.” Robbie’s lips turned into a thin line, the kind of quiet scold my dad would’ve done. “Keep reading.”

  The reviewer, some dick I remember seeing last night backstage, said I’d given a “lackluster performance.” He said that, for a twenty-two-year-old, I should have had more energy. My moves were all there, and I’d hit all the right notes, but something was missing. He said I sounded like I was suffering from hemorrhoids and that his seven-year-old son could have written better lyrics to Save Me Tonight. Too bad former cellist Abby Chan, who left the tour for unknown reasons, wasn’t there to save the show, I read to myself.

  Save the sh— What drugs was this assclown on? From now on, we should permit reviewers into the VIP room only if a) they gave us a five-star review, or b) they were willing to blow my cock.

  Fucker.

  But the worst part of the review was this line: As if all this weren’t enough, the band decided to omit a recent addition to their set list, an acoustic ditty by the name of Abby Shines, presumably about Collier’s recent love interest and cellist, leading fans in attendance to express their extreme disappointment on social media.

  “Shizzle.”

  “Lovely, isn’t it?” Robbie said, a hard eye turned on me. “You need to get your shit in order, Liam.”

  “Ya think?” I looked up from the offensive paper. Robbie stood, one hand on his hip, one wrapped around a glass of orange juice. It was like I was being scolded by my PE coach in front of the entire team. I refolded the paper. “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

  I started off toward the coffee, but he held on to my arm. I yanked it away. “You’re a big dog now. No more holes in the wall, pubs, and bars, my friend. You cannot let people down. This is your career, and every step of the way needs to be on point.”

  “I hear you,” I said through clenched teeth. Shaking my head, I sighed. “I…I just got caught up, Rob, but I know what to do.”

  It was true. I always had. Despite my reputation, I wasn’t really a wild man. I only pretended to be. Fact was, I’d been a professional from the very beginning. Everything I did—from the song lyrics, to the clothes I wore, to the boys I’d put together as my bandmates, to the album covers and videos—everything was a strategic move designed to move us up the ranks and get noticed. I was as determined to reach my goals as any other entertainer.

  “I’m allowed to have one meh performance, Robbie. I’m not a fucking robot. But I’ll get back on track. Sheesh.” I shook my head, tossing the paper into the trash.

  “Good man.” He slapped my back and offered me some orange juice.

  Suddenly, I was accosted in a group hug. It was Corbin and Tucker, smelling like shit. “Dudes, you guys need to shower before you show up to these things,” I said smugly.

  “Yes, Mom.” Tucker kissed my cheek as I slapped him away.

  “You smell worse than us,” Corbin said, sniffing my hair like my mom used to. “Like sadness. And heartbreak. And rejection.”

  “Fuck off.” Grabbing a cup and pouring myself some coffee from the big, silver decanter, I shrugged. “The show must go on!” I lifted a spoon into the air dramatically.

  “So it does, my friend.” Tucker handed me two packets of sugar. “Listen, bro, we know you’ve been feeling shitty lately about Asian Persuasion.”

  I shot him a look. “Don’t fuck with me, Tucker. I have zero tolerance right now.”

  “Dude, I get it. Okay…Abby. Can I say her name? I thought actually hearing it would make things worse.” He drummed out a beat against my shoulder.

  It was true that it was difficult for me to hear her name, but it also brought me great memories. I loved the way it sounded, the way our names sounded together, actually—Liam and Abby.

  Corbin plucked a spoon from the white linen tabletop and stirred my coffee for me. “But we wanted to say that, though we understand you were in love and got your heart broken, maybe it’s time for you
to lie back now and enjoy the single life, the life you’ve built for yourself. All of this.” He gestured to the opulent hotel meeting room all around us. “Because who knows how long our stays at the Ritz are going to last, ol’ buddy? One day we’re here, next day we’re gone. You know?”

  I nodded. “Deep, Corbin. Deep, but, uh…it’s not like I’m not trying. I started by taking Abby Shines off the set list, and look what happened there.”

  A hot, tight hotel waitress strolled by, bending over to check for extra sugar under the table.

  Tucker’s eyes widened at Corbin. “Dude, did you see that shit?”

  “No, what?” Corbin asked.

  “Tell you later. What were you saying?” Tucker turned his attention back to me, eyes bold and sincere.

  “Never mind. All I was going to say was that the life I wanted ended up being my undoing.” I scoffed, pounding back my coffee. Where was a fifth of whiskey when you needed one?

  “Not your undoing. Your curse maybe, but c’est la vie.” Corbin gave me a sympathetic smile. Most of the time, I had no fucking clue what Corbin was saying, but I appreciated his sentiment.

  “They say that the road ain’t no place to start a family…” Tucker sang the old, familiar lyrics poetically, palm to his chest.

  “Can you shut up with that already?” Corbin asked him, then turned to me. “He’s been singing that since yesterday.”

  “Dude.” Tucker shook his head. “You can’t shut up Journey.”

  Tuning out Tucker and Corbin’s antics, I took out my phone and opened up our fan page on Facebook, which I hadn’t done since that pic of me and Abby emerged. I needed to see the social media commentary that the reviewer had written about. Robbie’s assistant, Yami, had posted a pic of us onstage in the middle of a jump, all high energy, but the comments sucked.

  Next time please play Abby Shines pleeeeeeese…

  Awesome show! We missed that new song tho. Thought you were gonna play it.

  I was there!!!!! Sick set but they took out Abby Shines and my girlfriend was super pissed. Suggest you guys bring it back for tonight’s show before there’s a riot…