She double-checked the contents of her backpack and purse. The Dexter Gordon t-shirt and grey denim capris were there, folded and ready, along with a sleep shirt and matching shorts, a tank top and a pair of athletic shorts, underwear and socks. Deodorant, she thought, and added it to the bag. With a shake of her head, she tucked her yoga pants in where she’d taken the acid wash jeans out, and added her bathing suit and a stretchy black velour going-out shirt, just in case. For the plane, she’d decided to wear a martial arts t-shirt — a way of saying this is who I am to the cameras and curiosity she’d been warned about. Makeup bag, check. Tablet, earbuds, phone, check. Two books, just in case, check.
That had to be everything. But then she bit her lip and looked at the Bee Cute shopping bag she’d thrown on top of her dresser. I dare you, Johnny had said.
She opened the bag.
Flashes of reflected light splashed everywhere as she extracted the gift and held it up. He’d given her a pair of blue denim cutoff shorts, the same brand as her new jeans — very short and bedazzled all over the pockets and side seams with what looked like hundreds of sparkling rhinestones. No way. I refuse. And anyway, I didn’t agree to any dare. She stuffed the shorts back into the bag and threw it back onto her dresser.
She jammed her sandals into the top of the bag and set her black athletic shoes by the door, ready to put on. Toothbrush, she remembered, and grabbed it from the bathroom. All set. And she still had ten minutes until Eamonn had said to be ready.
Filling time was never a problem. She gave the cactus a bit of water, then tested out the stretch of her jeans with some kicks and a few segments of her form. Not bad. She laced on her shoes. When her phone buzzed to let her know that Eamonn had arrived, she picked up her backpack and purse and headed out the door.
Go knock Time Rock on its ass, Johnny had said.
Oh, ever-loving hell. Nell dashed back into her bedroom and grabbed the Bee Cute bag from her dresser. I’m still not wearing them, but I’ll take them with me for luck.
The limousine was enormous. Not a party bus, but the next thing to it, the kind that took ten or twelve people to proms and weddings.
Nell came to a dead stop on the front steps of her apartment building. Neighbors who’d never paid her the slightest bit of attention were staring — at the shining black vehicle, then at her, then at the doorway to the building as though maybe she’d just come out by random chance while the bride or prom queen was delayed.
The chauffeur got out and came around to open the door, and when Nell didn’t immediately rush over and hop in, Eamonn unfolded himself from the limo’s comfortable interior and got out. No, not Eamonn. This is Easy. The low profile was gone.
Biker boots, a black leather vest. His tight chocolate brown t-shirt had the sleeves rolled to show off his inked arms. Heavy silver rings gleamed on his fingers. He’d done something to his hair to enhance its natural blond waves into a sexy tousled bedhead style, and his weekend beard had been trimmed to a fine stubble. He looked expensive and dangerous.
He leaned against the side of the limo and grinned at her, arms crossed, pleased maybe that his giant form of transportation had brought her to a standstill. There was something challenging and unpredictable about him today, a wildfire energy she hadn’t seen in him before. They stared at each other. Would he come to her or would she go to him? She had a bad feeling that if he made that move, it would involve a public kiss, and there was already more attention on them than she felt comfortable with.
Take command of the situation. She closed the distance between them with confident strides and rose up on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on his stubbled jaw. Before he could react, she tossed her backpack into the vehicle, said a quick “thank you” to the chauffeur, and got in.
“I can put your bag in the trunk, ma’am,” the chauffeur said.
There’s lots of room in here, Nell wanted to say, but both men seemed to expect that bags would go in the trunk as a matter of course, so she handed it out for the chauffeur to take.
Through the limo door, she could see that more people were starting to gather, many of them taking pictures as Easy smiled and waved. A couple of women scuttled up and begged to take a selfie with him, and she could hear him say loudly enough for the rest of the crowd to hear, “Just this one, since you lucky ladies asked first, then I’ve got to go catch a plane with my girlfriend.”
In the next moment, he was climbing into the limo. There was a ridiculous amount of room, but he sat right beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, smiling out at the bystanders and waving once more as the chauffeur closed the door.
“What was that all about?” Nell asked, shrugging his arm away once there was no one to see.
He glanced at her in surprise but didn’t seem to realize there was a problem. “Oh, well, I’m not hiding anymore. I wanted to be recognized, so I got recognized.” The big car’s motor thrummed into life and pulled out into traffic, heading for the airport.
“No, I mean that performance. Being a cocky ass. Waiting for me to come to you. Telling those women they were lucky. Not thanking the driver.”
Eamonn laughed. “I’m a rock god, baby. I told you. It’s a different world.”
“No.” She pushed herself away from him to sit on the opposite bank of seats. “That’s crap. There is no world in which you’re excused from thanking people and being respectful and kind. Don’t fool yourself that it’s okay. And don’t think I can’t hear the difference when you call me baby like that, either.”
His brows lowered. He looked taken aback and pouty. “That’s quite a lecture. Are you going to hit me now?”
She seethed. It would be so easy to kick him, right from where she sat. But she knew she never would — her self-control was far too deeply ingrained to be broken by petty temptation. “I only ever defend myself. Are you planning to give me cause?”
That jolted him. “No! Look, I’m sorry I called you baby.”
“Don’t be obtuse. I’m used to your pet names by now. The problem is in the way you said it.”
He ran a ringed hand through his hair, ruining his careful styling. “It’s not enough that you’ve pushed me into trying to apologize to people I’d planned never to see again? You’re going to tell me how to talk, now?”
Nell leveled her last-warning instructor stare at him. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, and you can talk however you like. But you’d better tell your driver to let me off anywhere that’s convenient, because I really don’t need to stick around and take this kind of crap.”
“Very funny,” he said, with a sour twist to his mouth.
“I’m not kidding. You said you wanted to fix things with your bandmates — was that the truth, or just some line you were feeding me? Because no one is pushing you anywhere. You can take that back or let me out of this car. Your choice.” A sad lump of regret filled her throat as soon as she’d spoken the words. He was beautiful and funny and the best sex she’d ever had, and it would be hard to walk away from that. But she knew she’d stand by the choice she’d just given him. I’m not here to carry the weight of your fear or regret. You’re a grown man; own your crap. And it bothered her how viscerally she hoped that he would.
The only sound was the smooth hum of the limousine’s motor, punctuated by the occasional honk or heavy engine sound from the traffic outside.
“Fuck me,” Eamonn grumbled at last. “I know you’re not. I’m just nervous.” And when she raised her eyebrows at him, he added, “Sorry.”
The relief she felt was flat-out ridiculous. I could have walked away, she told herself. “Nerves are okay, but don’t take them out on me.”
For a moment, she saw a flicker of answering relief in his face — they’d dodged a rough landing there — and then it shifted into something a lot more playful and seductive. “Yes, ma’am,” he said softly, with a sultry gaze, heavy-lidded. I’ve been a bad boy, he seemed to be saying. Discipline me
.
She crossed her arms, tempted but unwilling to give in, even as she wondered how the shorter stubble on his jaw would feel against her skin. “No. You don’t get to play games with this and make it about sex. Use some flipping self-control and turn your rock god persona into someone who’s not an ass.”
A hint of red washed up from his shirt collar and he looked away. “I just give people what they want.”
He really believes that. And in that moment, she felt sad for him. “Your dirty-sweet smiles and flirty winks are what they want, Eamonn. Look at how Jessalyn and the nurses ate up your charm and went all googly because you brought flowers.”
“Got to be nice to people in hospitals — they’re usually having a tough enough time already.” He shrugged.
“And you don’t think you could make your driver’s day a little bit better with a smile and some appreciation? How about actually talking to your bandmates, telling them how you feel, instead of just playing a part?”
“Ouch. Low blow,” he said.
And it was; she knew that. Crap. “I’m not at my most confident right now either,” she admitted. Saying those words horrified her a bit — she prided herself on always projecting confidence and keeping everything under control. But he’d admitted he was feeling nervous, and she’d paid him back by digging at the way he’d handled his bandmates. An unacceptable slip of self-discipline. “This is completely not my world, and I’m feeling a bit… on edge. I do think you should be yourself with your bandmates, as much as you can, but I could have put it in a kinder way.”
He nodded his acceptance of that. “I guess I’m about to find out what being real with them feels like. And you’re about to find out what being a rock star’s girlfriend feels like.”
“We can do it,” she said, injecting as much brightness and confidence into her voice as she could to mask her dread, and turned to look out the window.
They were nearing the airport, heading toward the departures drop-off zone.
“Maybe this wasn’t so smart,” he muttered to himself.
“What?” She glanced over at him, only to see him shaking his head. “Come on, tell me.”
“I didn’t think this through. I haven’t been to an airport without a bodyguard since Smidge first got big enough for us to be recognized.”
That made Nell laugh, then she stifled it as she saw that he was genuinely concerned. “You’re with me, Eamonn. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” As the car slowed to a stop, she laid a hand on his arm. “Stay here while I get a cart for our bags.”
“The driver can do that,” he said.
She gave him her instructor face. We’re doing this my way. “I’m getting a cart and having a look around. I’ll let the driver get the bags out of the trunk, though. Stay in the car ’til I tell you, okay?” Focusing on safety banished her uncertainty and put her back in control of the situation. Without waiting for his response, she opened the door and got out, surprising the chauffeur who had come around to open it. “Oh, hi there. I’m just going to grab a cart, if you’ll get our bags from the trunk.”
“Sure, ma’am.” Nonplussed, but professional.
The airport was about as busy as she’d have expected for June, but most of the travelers seemed to be focused on their own needs and weren’t paying much attention to others, although a few glanced over in passing at the giant limousine. Good. No one appeared to be loitering or triggered her sense of threat.
She watched as the driver loaded the cart with the contents of the trunk — her backpack, his expensive-looking black Rollaboard bag, and a guitar case. We didn’t need the cart. She’d expected him to travel with more stuff, somehow.
Backing down from the plan she’d laid out wasn’t going to happen, though. Nope. We’re taking the cart.
With only carry-on items, they’d be able to bypass the checked-baggage counter and head straight for security. It felt strange to be traveling without her gear bag, which she always had to check because even training weapons weren’t permitted in carry-on bags and most of her flying experience involved going to tournaments. “Thank you,” she said to the driver. “You can let your other passenger out now.” She stood back, watching. A test, of sorts.
He emerged from the limo in a smooth motion, looking practiced and confident, as though the whole world was his stage. It didn’t matter that his audience was a handful of travelers who’d stopped to gawk at the size of the limo, not knowing who was in it. He doled out winks, waves, and nods of acknowledgment to anyone who made eye contact, all with that flirty, dirty grin of his — then he checked himself and turned to the chauffeur for a moment, saying, “Thanks very much, man. You want an autograph or selfie, now’s the time to ask.”
“We’re not supposed to, sir,” the uniformed man began, then paused and dug his phone out of a pocket, “but I’d love to get a picture to show my girl.” So Easy leaned in for a photo moment before turning his attention to Nell.
“You’re pushing the cart,” she said. “I want both my hands free, just in case.”
She positioned herself on his right, half a pace ahead of him — not enough to be obvious but enough to have a good view of anything approaching his left side — and stuck there through security and all the way to their gate. Nothing happened. Sure, a few people did double-takes as they passed, pointed their phone cameras in his direction or elbowed a companion with a look over there expression, but there was no threat. No one even approached.
Eamonn turned to her as they boarded the plane. “I guess I didn’t need to worry about needing a bodyguard,” he said with a shrug, and a hint of a blush colored his cheekbones. “Airports seemed to generate more of a fuss… before. Maybe I’m just washed up.”
“Always better to be safe,” Nell assured him. “And there were plenty of people eyeballing you and sneaking photos; you can still draw a crowd. They just had the good sense not to get too close to me.” You move like you’re going to take people apart if they look at you wrong, Amy had said, and Nell wasn’t going to let that sting. So what if I do? She was here, wasn’t she, boarding a first-class flight with an actual rock star?
“Excuse me, sir, you can’t bring your instrument on board, you’re going to have to — oh!” The flight attendant at the door of the plane blinked as she got a good look at Eamonn’s face, then double-checked his boarding pass. “Er, Mr… Yarrow, that’s one of your concert basses, I guess?” She looked flustered. Her nametag said Pam.
“Sure is. This one’s my favorite, my blue Warwick. Not going in the cargo hold, sorry. They told me the crew would find somewhere safe for it.”
Pam turned pink and nodded. “Of course. Our pleasure. I can put it in the coat closet for you, sir.” She held out her hands to take the guitar case, which had clearly risen in status with her recognition of its owner.
He gave her a dazzling smile, Easy the rock god at his very best. “Thank you, darling. And you don’t need to be formal — call me Easy.”
With an impressed “Wow! Thank you!” Pam carried the precious instrument away, leaving Eamonn and Nell to find their seats; the first-class recliners seemed huge compared to the economy seating Nell was used to. Maybe it’s not so terrible to be taking a break from training for a few days. For years, all her travel had been to tournaments and seminars, never a real vacation.
Pam came over to offer them pre-takeoff beverages, so Nell shortly found herself sipping a mimosa in comfort while the economy passengers boarded. “Sláinte,” Eamonn said and clinked his glass against hers. “Time to enjoy your vacation.” He looked a little grim and downed his drink too fast. Worrying about what’s waiting for him at the end of the flight, Nell thought, but didn’t say anything. Apologizing for a wrong done to someone wasn’t easy, and no words could lighten that load for him.
When their flight landed in Sacramento, Pam came over to them while the plane was still taxiing; she offered snacks and more drinks to soften the inconvenience as she a
sked them to stay in their seats while the other passengers disembarked.
“Something wrong?” Eamonn asked.
The flight attendant gave them a big everything’s fine smile. “Your security escort is on the way to the gate and should be ready for you in, like, two minutes. Do you have a car service booked, or is someone meeting you?”
Nell glanced over at Eamonn, who had a quizzical expression on his face, one eyebrow cocked. “Car service, but… I didn’t arrange for any security escort,” he said.
“There’s a little media cluster gathered in arrivals and the airport has reason to believe they’re waiting for you. So, a complimentary VIP escort is being arranged — I swear it will only be a couple of minutes.”
“See?” Nell said once Pam had moved away. “You’re still famous.”
He gave her a look of pity for her ignorance and slumped against the back of his seat, resigned to waiting. “They’re just looking for dirt. Guess I’m going to give it to them.”
“Well, what are you supposed to do in this sort of situation?”
“Kin always said — he’s this music-industry public relations guy we had around — he always said to just smile and wave and keep walking, keep moving, and if you have to give ’em unprepared sound bites, make it two words: great night, thank you, awesome crowd, love you, no comment. You can’t get into trouble with pairs of words, he told us.”
“Is that what you’re going to do?” she asked.
Eamonn grinned, thoughtful and slightly mischievous. “I don’t know.”
They disembarked from the courtesy cart at the escalator and rode down two stories to the ground-floor concourse, carrying their bags this time, with a uniformed security officer ahead of them and another behind. They could see that Pam’s described “cluster” of people with cameras and microphones, gathered around the foot of the escalator, had attracted curious bystanders and grown into something of a crowd.
“Take my hand,” Eamonn said into Nell’s ear. “And don’t let go ’til we get to the car.”
Rock God in Exile (Smidge Book 2) Page 23