“I’m really sorry I missed that,” I mutter, and Paige shakes her head at me, finally meeting my eyes.
“You should be. It was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen some crazy shit.”
I laugh. “All right, show me these pictures then.”
I sit between them on the couch and Paige pulls out her phone, swiping through picture after picture. “See, she had this room set up like a Victorian Tea Shoppe, so all the cats in there were wearing little hats and bows.”
“Holy crap,” I mutter, holding the phone up close to my face. “You weren’t kidding about the crazy.”
“I know, right?”
As we go through the pictures, Paige describes the various themed rooms to me in her expressive, over-the-top Paige way. I’m laughing my head off, more relaxed and happy than I’ve been in weeks, when Sienna clears her throat from the doorway.
“Oh, hey,” I tell her, immediately feeling guilty. “I looked for you.”
“It would appear so.” Her voice is toneless and I can’t tell if she’s annoyed or not. It’s enough to get Paige and Daisy up off the couch though, both muttering something about work they have to do. Sienna watches them go, an appraising look on her face. Then she turns that same look on me.
“Do I have something on my face?”
She holds my gaze for a long moment, long enough to make me feel seriously self-conscious, before she finally speaks. “You have a thing for this girl.”
I’m not sure why, exactly, but her words send a jolt of fear through me. “What? Who?”
“What’s her name—Paige? The girl who plays around on the website. You’re totally into her, aren’t you?”
I gape at her. Sienna is one of the most obtuse people I’ve ever met in my life. When it comes to other people’s feelings, feelings that don’t directly relate to her, she’s clueless. So where in the hell is she getting this? “Don’t be ridiculous. Paige is Daisy’s friend—she works for us, for God’s sake.” My voice sounds pitifully guilty and defensive even in my own ears.
Sienna, on the other hand, doesn’t seem particularly angry, more curious than anything else. I’m maybe even detecting a slight air of amusement. “Have you slept with her?”
“Sienna! Jesus, what the hell is your problem?”
She raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “I guess that’s all the answer I need, huh?”
I have no idea how to respond to her. I’m not going to lie about the nights I shared with Paige—it’s not like I’m ashamed of them, and it’s not like I was even with Sienna at the time. But I also have no desire to discuss my feelings with her, not when it comes to Paige. It feels too... personal. Too complicated to explain. And none of her business.
“There is nothing going on with me and Paige,” I say through gritted teeth. It’s the truth, but saying the words pisses me off even more than the line of questioning in the first place.
Sienna still looks amused. “Look, I really don’t care how many little groupies you fuck, okay? Just keep it to yourself.” She scrunches up her nose. “It was so distasteful, the way your brother’s affairs were published everywhere. Let’s keep that from happening here, okay?”
My jaw literally drops, I’m so shocked. Not just by her words, but by her completely nonchalant tone. “Hang on a second. Are you telling me that you don’t care if I sleep with someone else? Just so long as I keep it out of the press?”
She rolls her eyes. “Give me a break, Reed. We’re grownups. I know what it’s like for musicians on the road.” Her eyes narrow. “But I don’t want to be known as the girl Reed Ransome cheats on, okay? Acting like the scorned woman so does not fit into my image. So, if you can’t keep it in your pants, at least keep it from the paparazzi.”
Before I can even begin to wrap my mind around how fucked up this conversation is, she turns on her heel. “I’m heading back over to the hotel. I just cannot deal with this shitty dressing room for a second longer. See you at the after party?”
I mouth wordlessly at her as she kisses my cheek and leaves the room. What in the hell just happened? Did she seriously just tell me I had permission to screw around? That the only way it would be objectionable is if people knew about it? And this is the woman who says she wants to try to have a real relationship. The woman I’m supposed to raise a kid with. What the fuck?
“Can I just say something?”
I spin in the direction of the bathroom to see Cash standing there, arms crossed, staring at me. I had no idea he’d come back in but from the look on his face I can tell that he heard most, if not all, of that exchange.
I’m still too baffled to form a coherent response, so I merely nod.
“You need to get your shit together, man. Or this entire thing is going to blow up in your face.”
“What?”
He stalks to the couch in front of me but doesn’t sit. Instead, he crosses his arms and glares at me. “You have yourself in a mess, Reed. A mess I warned you about, if you remember. You need to end it. Now.”
If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s Cash when he gets self-righteous. Out of all the people in the world, he’s the last one I want to take moral criticism from. “Really?” I snap. “I thought you would approve. My girlfriend pretty much just gave me permission to have an open relationship, right?”
“You fucker,” he mutters, looking more frustrated than I’ve ever seen him. “I’m not talking about that witch.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at the door Sienna just left. “I’m talking about Paige.”
I was expecting another tirade about how awful Sienna is, so I’m caught off guard by his statement. “What about Paige?”
“You’re into her! Jesus, how dense are you? Everyone can see it, Reed. Everyone. If fucking Sienna-head-up-her-ass Matthews can see it, you think everyone else can’t?”
“Paige and I are friends—”
He holds up his hands. “I don’t want to hear it. Seriously. You can lie to her and you can lie to yourself, but you’re not lying to me, brother. You have feelings for Paige and you have ever since Mexico. And you string her along—”
Now, I’m the pissed one. Without even thinking, I shove his chest hard. He merely stares back at me, unmoved. “I do not string her along. We’re friends.”
“She’s into you too, you idiot. And you spend all this time with her, laugh with her, stare at her all the fucking time. Go off on these little adventures together and God knows what you do when you’re on your own.”
“You have no idea what you’re—”
“I think I do, Reed. I think I know exactly what I’m talking about.” His face softens. “What in the hell are you doing, man? Why are you going through with this bullshit with Sienna? She’s not good for you or good to you. And Paige—Paige is awesome, dude. She does something for you—you have to have seen that.”
I cross my arms stubbornly. “You sound like an idiot.”
“Okay, Reed. Sure. I can’t recognize the difference in my own brother, the guy I know better than anyone else in the world.”
In spite of my anger and frustration, something in his words gives me pause. “What do you mean, different?”
He laughs, which has the effect of pissing me off even more, but goes on before I can slug him, shaking his head at me like I’m the most naive fucker he’s ever met. “You’re more chill, man. You actually have fun—fun that has nothing to do with music or drinking. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been an uptight little bitch. Constantly worrying about the band or about your brothers. About making it—and then, after we did, you still kept stressing. Could we keep it up? Could we get Dalt to stay on track? Could you fix the PR mess I made—it’s all you do. You’re more tightly wound than a fucking corkscrew and you have been since you were ten years old.”
“Maybe I had to be,” I snap. “Maybe if I wasn’t, none of this—” I sweep my hands around to indicate the room, the tour, our success, “—would have ever happened.”
Cash holds up his hands as if to ward me off. Inexplicably, his expression has turned pitying, sad. “I’m not saying we didn’t need you to do the things you did. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have worked hard—we wouldn’t be here without you, man. Everyone knows that.” He looks me directly in the eye and the weight of his next words hit me full in the chest. “All I’m saying is that the only time—the only time in our whole life, dude—that I’ve seen you relax is with that girl.”
“I can’t be with Paige,” I say quickly. Just like with Sienna a few moments ago, his words send a quick shot of fear through me. “That can’t happen.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Paige deserves a hell of a lot better than me.” My tone is getting awfully close to shouting. I don’t know what prevents me from talking about this calmly, but Cash has me all worked up, on the defensive. “She deserves someone not on the road nine months out of the year. Someone who isn’t fucking married to his job—”
“That is bullshit and we both know it.”
“Of course it’s not bullshit. You really think she wants this life?”
“I think it should be up to her to decide what she wants,” he says, his voice annoyingly calm in spite of my growing agitation. “But that’s not what I was talking about. I was talking about you—you’re bullshit.”
“I’m bullshit?” I let out a bark of bitter laughter. “Fuck, Cash, you’re really good at this conversation thing.”
Still he’s calm. It’s annoying the hell out of me. “Your reasoning is bullshit. You aren’t staying away from Paige because you want to protect her from your lifestyle. You’re staying away because you’re scared.”
“I’m scared?” I ask, incredulous. He only nods. “I’m scared of Paige? Paige?”
“Maybe scared was the wrong word. You’re fucking terrified.”
I turn to go, so done with this conversation I don’t think I can even look at him anymore, but he grabs my shoulder. “We’re not finished.”
“Fine.” I spin back to face him, taking a step closer so my face is in his. I take a brief moment of satisfaction that I have several inches on him—and try not to think about the fact that his chest and biceps far out measure mine. “What am I so scared of, huh?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Reed. What could a dude whose mom walked out on him when he was a kid have to be afraid of when it comes to falling in love?”
I swing without thinking, wanting to punch his smug mouth, wanting to shut him up, to show him exactly what I think about his psycho-babble bullshit—but he deflects my fist and pushes me back, hard enough to make me stumble. “You’re not taking this out on me.”
“Fuck you, Cash.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Fuck me. I get it. But I’m still right.”
“You’re not. Paige is my friend. That’s it.”
His eyes gleam in a way that makes me nervous. “Really. Just your friend.”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
He stomps over to the door of the dressing room and I don’t know if I’m relieved to be done with the conversation or pissed that I didn’t get the chance to punch him. Right before he goes, he turns at the door.
“Look, I don’t give a shit what you do with Sienna. I think she’s terrible, but it’s your life, man.” He points at me, his eyes dark and angry. “But you stop fucking around with Paige. She’s a good girl. She saved Daisy last year. I mean it, man. You stop stringing her along or I swear to God—”
“What, Cash?” I snarl. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to kick your ass,” he says simply. Then he’s striding through the door, leaving me alone in the room feeling more pissed and more confused than I ever have in my life.
Chapter Nineteen
Paige
There’s a weird vibe around the band and crew the last few days. Pretty much since Reed came back with Sienna. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but there’s an undercurrent of tension that I can’t ignore. Cash and Reed are barely speaking—in fact, Cash is stomping around the venues and hotels like a pissed off giant. Lennon and Daltrey seem tired and on edge. And Reed... I don’t think I’ve ever seen Reed quite this way before.
He snaps at everyone, from his brothers to his dad—not necessarily rare—and to the crew—which is incredibly rare. Reed is usually nothing but respectful to the people who work so hard to help his band put on their shows. I even saw him blow past Daisy without saying hello, which pissed her off, which then pissed Daltrey off, and the tension ratcheted up even more.
The only one who seems unaffected by any of this is Sienna Matthews. She spends most of her time in her own dressing room. The one night she had to spend on the bus, she and Reed commandeered the back lounge while everyone else hung out up front—I’m not sure if that was at Reed’s request or the preference of his brothers. They don’t seem to interact with Sienna much at all, and she seems perfectly happy not to interact with them. Occasionally I’ll see Reed and her doing something in front of the cameras—talking or sharing a meal or taking a walk. Invariably, Reed is even more annoyed after these filming sessions.
I do my best to avoid him.
I know it makes me a baby. If I was a truly good friend, I would try to figure out what was bothering him. But I just can’t bear the thought of him turning that temper on me. I know I would lose it if he talked to me the way I’ve heard him talk to his brothers. Besides, I feel awkward being near him now that Sienna is present. On the few occasions when she comes out of her dressing room, I catch her eyes on me. Did Reed tell her about Mexico? Does she have some boyfriend-stealing sixth sense that tells her how I feel?
On Friday, we pull into Seattle for a two-show stop. Sienna will be going back to L.A. on Sunday, with the boys joining her a week later for the Hellbent premiere. I’m crossing my fingers that things will get back to normal once she’s gone, but the way Cash keeps glaring at Reed tells me at least some of these issues go far beyond the presence of the movie star.
While the guys head downtown to do some radio interviews, I decide to get to work on the newest website update. Two shows have just been added to the tour and, along with the dates, I need to incorporate the new meet-and-greet opportunities for fan club members, as well as all of the updated media appearances.
I work on the bus for a while, but I feel cooped up. When I find myself staring out the window for the third time in half an hour, I decide to go work in the dressing room, instead. Daisy has a new merchandise order to organize, which should be keeping her busy until the guys get back. I’ll probably have the room to myself long enough to finish my work.
But the room isn’t empty when I get there. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I stammer, backing away from the open door. The pile of work in my arms—including my laptop—begins to slip from my hands and I stumble around trying to keep it balanced and not trip over my suddenly clumsy feet.
“Ooh, careful,” Sienna Matthews says, jumping up from her seat in front of the dressing mirrors to help me. She grabs the notebook that fell to the floor and places it carefully on top of my laptop. “There you go.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, breathless and more than a little embarrassed. This is the closest I’ve ever been to the movie star. She’s a lot shorter in person than I would have imagined, and her face looks pale and wan without her makeup. She has her blond hair pulled up in a messy ponytail and is dressed in casual yoga clothes. She’s still completely gorgeous and flawless.
“Come in,” she urges me, heading back to the dressing table. “Don’t let me keep you from your work.” She sits in front of the lighted mirror and sighs at her reflection. “My room doesn’t have a mirror so I came down here to get ready for the cameras.”
I can only manage a lame, “oh.” I’m feeling a strange mixture of star struck and jealous of this perfectly beautiful woman. The woman who’s having Reed’s baby. I swallow heavily and move to one of the couches, arranging my laptop and notebooks on the cof
fee table.
I look up and see Sienna’s eyes on me in the mirror. She has a curious look on her face, almost calculating. When our eyes meet, she smiles broadly. “It’s Paige, right?”
“Yeah. I... I’m a huge fan.”
Her grin deepens. “How sweet of you to say.”
She’s still watching me in the mirror and my level of awkward is growing. “You work on the website?” she finally asks.
“Uh, yeah.” I don’t know why I can’t stop stammering. Sienna isn’t that much older than me, and she isn’t currently surrounded by fans or cameras or anything else intimidating. She might be famous, but I’ve been hanging out with a very famous rock band for months and I never get this uncomfortable. I clear my throat. “I’m doing a work-study with the band. I coordinate with the tour manager and the PR division at the label to create graphics for merchandising and marketing purposes.” There, that was much better. I actually seem like I know what I’m doing, rather than sounding like a shy teenager.
“That sounds really interesting,” Sienna says. Her voice is clear and high, with a musical quality to it. I can’t imagine her ever stammering or being anything less than eloquent. “I’m sorry,” she says, waving her hands. “I’m probably distracting you. You came in here to work.”
I smile shyly and pull out my laptop. I doubt there’s any way I’m going to get work done with her in here, but I can’t very well leave the moment after I’ve arrived either. I’ll pretend to work for a while and then come up with an excuse, I think as I bend over the keyboard.
Sienna is quiet for several minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her pull an eyelash curler from the make-up bag in front of her. After she’s finished with that, she goes back to staring at her reflection. I can’t help but notice how... sad she looks. Small. Vulnerable. Nothing like the woman I’ve seen on my television set or on the big screen. I realize that I’m staring at her and hurriedly turn back to my laptop.
“Paige?” she asks, her voice hesitant. “Do you... do you know Reed very well?”
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