Rock God in Exile (Smidge Book 2)

by Kella Campbell

  “Oh, heavens, yes. My foolish boy likes to let people think it’s just a band name brought on by his reputation with women, but we called him Easy long before he met Smidge or any of that. Before he’d ever been with a woman, far ’s I know.” Mandy propped her sunglasses up on top of her voluminous teased bangs and leaned forward, contemplating the dozen doughnuts in the box before selecting a Boston cream. “Have one,” she said, before biting into hers.

  Awkward. Nell took a sip of her tea. Her mind balked at picturing a teenage Eamonn Yarrow, and failed utterly at imagining him a virgin. Surely he was born confident and cocky? Or maybe life on an endless rock tour had given him that. “Why’s he called Easy, then?” she asked.

  “Oh, Mom, you’re not going to tell her that old story, are you?” Eamonn said, coming out to the patio with a stack of melamine plates and a roll of paper towels.

  His mother gave him a smile that was a mirror of his own — anyone could see he’d got his well-formed mouth and wide smile from her, along with his coloring. “I know you’ve got an image to maintain, love, but you don’t mind Nell hearing where you got your name, do you?”

  “Guess not.” He handed his mother a plate for her partially eaten doughnut and passed one to Nell before plunking the paper towel roll down on the table next to the box. “You going to have a doughnut, babe?” The way he looked at the pastries told Nell that he was hungry, and it occurred to her that he might be waiting for her to have her choice before he took one.

  “I…” Doughnuts aren’t breakfast. I’m an athlete, she thought, I shouldn’t be eating any of this. But they did look and smell delicious. The bigger problem was that she didn’t want to inadvertently take his favorite one.

  “Next time you sleep over, I promise I’ll have something healthy for your breakfast,” he said softly, as he sat down beside her.

  Next time? “It’s not that. I don’t want to take whichever one your mom got for you.”

  Mandy shook her head, clearly amused. “Don’t worry, honey, he likes all the jelly-filled ones. Take your pick.” There were four jelly doughnuts in the box, along with some crullers and dipped and glazed ones.

  I can’t even choose.

  Eamonn put a reassuring hand on her thigh. “You liked the raspberry one I brought you the other morning, yeah?” When she nodded, he picked one from the box and put it on her plate, then took another for himself, both of them oozing dark raspberry jelly. “I knew Mom would get two, just in case. I do like all the jelly ones, but raspberry’s the best.” He bit into his pastry with such pure sensual pleasure that Nell had to look away.

  She turned to Mandy. “You were about to tell me where Eamonn got his nickname?” Any distraction is good, even if it’s not a story he wants to brag about.

  “Oh, yes. Well, you know he’s been working as a musician since his early teens, right?” The way Mandy said this implied that it was something everyone knew, and indeed, when Nell had eventually searched online for information about him, it was plainly public knowledge that he’d started his music career before he could drive or vote. “Wasn’t in a garage or bar band, though. His first time on a real stage was with Mad Gilbert when they were opening for the Bad Luck Opals’ Dark Jewelry tour — the guitarist they had at the time was a tool who couldn’t hold his booze, and the dumbfuck was passed out cold at showtime. Gil knew Eamonn had been learning their songs and he just took the boy on stage with them like it was no big thing. You’re maybe too young to remember, but it was a big-ass arena tour with all the usual pyrotechnics and shit. So, the Opals’ guitar tech was watching with a few of us from the side of the stage, and after the first song, he turned to look at me and said, ‘Damn, that takes balls, and he’s making it look easy. Your boy has a gift, Mandy. Easy!’ And the crew started calling him Easy after that, and eventually we all did.”

  “True story,” said Eamonn, seeming faintly embarrassed. “At least, I didn’t hear Ritchie say it, but I went onstage with Mad Gilbert and played the set without rehearsal, and that was the day they started calling me Easy.” He laughed self-consciously and took a big bite of his doughnut.

  Nell watched him out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t want to embarrass him, but was unexpectedly blown away by what she’d just heard. She’d been in eighth grade when Dark Jewelry had come out and all the cool girls had posters of the Bad Luck Opals in their lockers, but she’d thought Mad Gilbert was cooler. And Eamonn had played with them. I was fourteen the first time I got shoved in front of a crowd, she remembered him saying. He hadn’t mentioned it was in an arena, though — hardly the bar scene she’d pictured. “That’s a great story,” she said. “Why’d you let people think you got the name from…”

  “Being a manwhore?” Eamonn finished when her words trailed off. “It fits. I just give people what they expect, what they want.”

  There was a hint of frost in Mandy’s voice and expression as she asked, “And is there anything wrong with enjoying sex, as long as everyone involved is willing and clear about their expectations?”

  It wasn’t immediately obvious whether she was addressing Nell or Eamonn with that. Oops! Sensitive point for an ex-groupie, maybe. And then Nell couldn’t help but wonder whether the older woman had fully retired from that pursuit. “Of course not,” she hurried to say. “I didn’t—”

  “Sorry, Mom,” Eamonn cut in. “Good times were had. No regrets.” Nell wondered if he was repeating something his mother had told him in the past. A philosophy of life, a lesson learned? She picked up her untouched doughnut and bit into it.

  The sweet deliciousness filled her mouth, and she suppressed a moan of pleasure. So good. She could feel Eamonn watching her eat, taking pleasure in her enjoyment of it. If his mother hadn’t been there…

  “Easy, love, do you think you could get me a glass of water?” Mandy asked.

  “Sure thing.” He got to his feet at once.

  As soon as he’d vanished inside, she fixed her eyes on Nell, with an air of getting down to business at last. “You seem to like my son. You know Tommy Baxter is his uncle, right?”

  “I no longer work for your brother, and he has nothing to do with how I feel about Eamonn,” Nell said firmly.

  Mandy’s eyebrows rose. “Well, you’re a confident one, aren’t you? Tommy has it in his mind that you’re planning to make a fuss about wrongful dismissal.”

  “I signed his waiver and took the severance. I’m sure he told you that.”

  “He’s more concerned about a media circus.”

  That gave Nell cause to raise her own eyebrows. A media circus? “Even if I hadn’t signed a non-disparagement thing, who would listen to me? I’ve got no platform.”

  “I think you’ve missed a key point about my son, honey.” Mandy spoke with laughter in her voice now, and her eyes were kind, making Nell feel like she’d inadvertently given the right answer in an exam she hadn’t prepared for. “He could give you a platform, and Tommy knows it.”

  “And apparently doesn’t know a thing about me, for all the years I worked there. I’m a martial artist; integrity is my life. When I sign something, I honor the spirit as well as the letter of it — no matter how crappy the terms were. I’m not going to use Eamonn to work some kind of end-around on that.”

  “An end-around on what?” His voice startled her; he’d come back out to the patio on quiet feet, and she wasn’t sure what he’d heard or how long he’d been standing behind her.

  But Mandy looked satisfied. “I can tell Tommy you’re not going down that road, then?”

  And in some way, Nell understood. The older woman was defending her family, protecting her brother and making sure her son wasn’t being used for his fame. That was fair. “Yes. But you might also ask him why he fired me, while you’re at it.” Understanding didn’t mean sympathy. People needed to look at what they chose to defend. Perhaps Tommy would like to explain to his sister who’d had a baby at seventeen that women who got pregnant and women who tri
ed to protect them weren’t welcome under his management. Nell got to her feet. “I need to go. Nice to meet you, Mandy.”

  “What? No,” Eamonn said. He was in the act of handing the glass he carried to his mother, and his hand jerked so that water slopped over the edge. “Nell, you can’t—”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “You’re going to try to stop me?” she asked drily.

  “But—”

  “I’ve got to shower, sort out my resume and get some job hunting started, and I’m teaching two classes tonight. I really do have to go,” she told him.

  He rubbed his hands against his thighs to get rid of the water droplets that had splashed him. “But I can’t even call you,” he said.

  She smiled at that, and wondered if he’d always been the one to do the leaving. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. I’ll be at the Frog and Ball around five thirty. You can buy me a drink, all right?”

  Chin up, Nells. You can handle anything life throws at you. Her dad had taught her well, and her martial arts training reinforced it.

  Once she’d recovered from the first shock of losing her job, she made a plan and set herself to coping with the situation. A quick workout, a hot shower, a protein shake, and a multivitamin tablet put her back on track within her body. She researched and prepared a dozen job applications — none of the opportunities were terribly exciting, but any of them would help pay her rent, and if she could only pick up one or two more teaching hours a week, she’d be able to make ends meet and keep training. But without a phone number, she was at a disadvantage. Who would hire someone with no phone?

  Without a job, she figured she wouldn’t be able to get an expensive new phone on an installment plan or as part of a contract — it would doubtless require payment up front. Every article on cheap phones and budget options pushed a different opinion, and Nell couldn’t decide how far she dared dip into her savings or what features were truly necessary. Maybe a temporary option would do: there were virtual phone number apps that claimed she’d be able to make phone calls from her tablet for only a few dollars a month.

  No one was going to be looking at job applications before Monday morning. If I haven’t made a decision about a phone by then, I’ll sign up for a burner number to use ’til I get a job.

  She read and re-read her dad’s email. Those nuthatches couldn’t find their ethics or their brains with two flashlights and a GPS tracker. I’ll be home in a month and I’ll take you out to dinner, and if you haven’t found a job by then, I’ll see what I can do. There’s always the Service, you know. “I’m not joining the Air Force, Dad,” she muttered to herself. It would interfere with her training, and they’d want her to do things their way rather than her own. He knew that. But he’d always held it out as an option if she got desperate, and the mention of it was as familiar as him calling her Nells or calling people who’d displeased him nuthatches — a substitute curse-word for use in front of his daughter, something he’d never once slipped up on.

  Her mother’s email was predictable in a different way, offering airfare to Australia for a visit, as if running away would solve the problem. Of course, a change of scenery and sunshine and cocktail parties had solved Nell’s mother’s problems — she’d met Anthony — and she no doubt thought that if Nell would just come and meet some nice young Australian men, the same fix would occur. Call me when you get your new phone, she wrote.

  Amy was up in Vancouver filming, but made a shocked face and sympathetic noises via video chat and promised to come over with a huge bottle of gin and a box of Cheese Nips as soon as she was back home. “You’ll be okay, bestie! I’ve been unemployed or underemployed a million times, and it always works out.”

  Nell arrived at the Frog and Ball just after five o’clock — nearly half an hour before she’d told Eamonn she’d be there. To her profound dismay, he’d arrived ahead of her.

  Crap. Not what I’d planned. She’d intended to sit at the bar, as usual, counting on the bartender’s presence to keep the conversation on a not too personal track. Instead, he’d settled into one of the booths behind the pool table — as private as one could get in a drinking establishment. Before she could wrap her mind around a decision, a plan of action, he spotted her and stood up, his face brightening as he waved her over.

  A couple of the sports-watching regulars looked up from their nachos as she made her way between the tables, and she nodded in brief acknowledgment as she passed. Will they realize I’m here on a date?

  “Hey,” said Eamonn, when she reached him. His arms were open, inviting a hug, and — without thinking about it — she stepped into his space and let him wrap himself around her. He murmured in her ear, “You came. I wasn’t sure you would.”

  “I said I’d be here,” she reminded him, tensing a little at the suggestion that she might not have kept her word. He must have felt her body stiffen because he immediately loosened his hug to let her pull away if she so chose. And for a split second, she wanted to stay in the lovely warmth of his arms, smelling his skin and soap. Then she pulled herself together and stepped back. “So, I’m here.”

  “Yeah, well, after Mom pushed her way in on us the other morning, I wouldn’t have blamed you for bailing. She’s kind of a force of nature.” He gestured to the booth. “Let’s sit.”

  She slid into the booth on the opposite side from where he’d been, saying, “I’ll sit across from you,” to squash any potential awkwardness of the across or beside conundrum. Eye contact meant more than snuggling — or did it? She wondered if he’d try to hold her hands across the table or touch her feet with his underneath it.

  In all of that, Eamonn must have caught the server’s attention somehow, because even as he sat down, she scurried up to the table and placed a Frosty Peach in front of Nell. “Tim says that’s your usual, right?”

  “Yes, but how—?”

  The server laughed. “Your date here said to ask the bartender to make your usual drink as soon as you came in. So, there you go.” She unloaded a couple of appetizers from her tray as well. “Cream cheese wontons and coconut shrimp. And are you ready for another Dark ’n Stormy, there?” she asked, turning to Eamonn, whose glass was three-quarters empty.

  “Sure, but no hurry.”

  “Dark and stormy?” Nell asked. The liquid in his glass was amber in color, and a lime wedge lay among the ice cubes.

  “It’s Black Seal rum with ginger beer. Want a taste?”

  “Sure.” She eyed the straw in his drink, unsure of the protocol. Use the straw from her own drink? Sip from the edge of his glass? Share his straw?

  He chuckled. “You can use my straw, Nella-bella. You’re my girl.”

  She cut him a sharp look at that. “I’m not a girl.”

  “Okay, you’re my woman… No? How about my sweetheart?”

  “Ugh.” She took his glass and sipped from the straw. “Oh, that’s seriously good. You want to try mine?”

  He chuckled. “Sure, if you’ll take a sip and kiss me with it…”

  “I don’t kiss in public places,” Nell said firmly, though the idea itself was tempting. She picked the peach candy off the top of her drink and ate it.

  Then Eamonn leaned in a little and said, “I brought you something.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him, not sure how she felt about gifts so early in their getting to know each other. It seemed a bit much.

  “So, you might have already got one since I saw you last, but if not — I want you to have a phone, okay? I want to be able to call you.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an oblong object, plunked it on the table in front of her.

  A smartphone. Not new, evidently, as the screen had a small chip in one corner and the finish was a bit worn in places where a case wouldn’t have protected it. “Uh… I can’t—”

  “It’s just an old one of mine, and you do need a phone, right?”

  She sighed. “I was planning to get a burner number for my tablet, ’til I’m working again
.”

  “This one’s been lying around in a drawer since I upgraded. I got it set up for now on a pay as you go plan so you can use it right away, but it’s unlocked, so you can switch it to anywhere you like.”

  “I can’t.” Reluctantly, regretfully, Nell pushed the phone back toward Eamonn. “It’s too much.”

  “But you need a phone, and it’s just an old one. Take it. Please?”

  She shook her head. “Can’t.” Sipped her drink, and bit her lip. Why am I resisting so hard? A used phone, older model — it couldn’t even be worth much. I could let him give it to me.

  He drained his glass, looking stubborn and thoughtful. Then he smirked. “D’you play pool?”

  “I do. Why?”

  He nodded at the pool table. “If I win, you keep the phone.”

  Persistent, much? Nell suppressed an urge to roll her eyes. “Strange kind of stake. Shouldn’t you get something if you win?”

  “Oh, but I do. I get to talk to you… and on nights when we can’t be together,” his voice dropped into the thick, husky range that told her he was turned on, “if I’m lucky, maybe you’ll call me from your bed…” And just like that, she was filled with vivid memories of the night he’d called her to say he’d got home safe, both of them in their beds and aching for each other.

  Nope. She refused to think about that here. “And what happens if I win?”

  “Name your prize, babe — anything you want.”

  Her mind went blank. This is worse than truth or dare. “Fine. If we’re going to do ridiculous wagers, when I win, you can get down and do twenty pushups for me right here in the Frog and Ball.”

  Eamonn raised one eyebrow. “You know you could ask me for a trip to Paris, or a car, right?”

  “Yeah, no. If you ever take me to Paris, it’ll be because you want to take me there, not because I’ve won it. I mean, not that you’d ever—”

  “Point taken.” He stood up and gestured toward the pool table. “Pushups if I lose. Let’s play?” He didn’t sound like he thought he’d lose.