by Cherrie Lynn
She wasn’t convinced. “Oh God.”
Maybe she should warn Heidi early and head things off. Or maybe that would only arouse Heidi’s suspicions. It was day two of this fiasco and things were already getting weird.
Eli was silent, leaning against the counter, staring off broodingly at some middle point. His words had been reassuring, but his expression didn’t reflect that: brows low, mouth tipped down. “What are you thinking?” she asked tentatively.
He snapped out of it, looking back at her. She nearly wilted beneath the weight of that stare. “Let him say whatever the fuck he wants. I’m actually thinking it would serve her right.”
Iris opened her mouth and closed it again, newly awakened panic zinging through her. With a final smirk, he headed toward the back of the bus, leaving her to ponder that remark and all the implications that chilled her blood.
She needed more coffee. And maybe some alcohol.
Eleven
The days began to flow, one into the next. Mile after mile, show after show. She tried to keep the boys entertained without letting them sit idly playing their video games all the time. She helped Seger with algebra and bribed both boys into reading at least an hour or two a day. To her delight, once they started, it was hard to tear them away. Best of all, Elijah mostly stayed out of her way.
Heidi frequently asked for updates on how he was behaving—she asked about him more than the kids. Grinding her teeth every time, Iris told her he was great. He was playing his shows, hanging out with his kids as much as he could, and she hadn’t witnessed one single thing that might suggest anything shady was going on. No orgies in the back of the bus—Heidi had actually asked. And to Iris, when they had to interact, he was always cordial but clipped, seeming to want to keep as much distance between them as possible lest any rumors take hold. But she hadn’t heard a word about that from anyone, so after a while she stopped worrying so much. Things were . . . okay. Not ideal, but not as bad as she had expected.
In Phoenix, Russell’s wife and kids joined the tour. Iris had finally learned names and instruments: he was the drummer. And his wife, Talia, had a mouth worse than Elijah’s, but Iris found she enjoyed her company.
“Yeah, Quin’s a real cunt flap,” she declared loudly one evening over margaritas—which Talia had made, which she had shoved into Iris’s hand despite her protests. Iris nearly choked on the icy beverage, not only from Talia’s comment but the sheer gargantuan amount of tequila in the drink. Thankfully, it was only the two of them. Eli had taken the boys for a spin on one of the UTVs outside the venue; they had rolled into Denver earlier this morning for their show tonight.
“I gathered,” Iris said, cringing around the burning in her chest from the drink.
One corner of Talia’s mouth tugged upward as she sat across from her. She was a lithe, long-legged brunette with streaks of teal in her hair, beautiful—as only a rock star’s wife would be—with direct, dark brown eyes and olive skin. “Good, huh?”
“Strong.”
“Yeah, girl.” She held her own glass up and Iris clinked hers with it.
“I probably shouldn’t drink too much. I’m kind of on the job.”
“I don’t see any kids around. Drink up.”
“They’ll be back soon. Heidi will want to talk to them.”
Something else she’d noticed . . . Talia’s full lips always seemed to thin out whenever that name was mentioned. But tonight was the first time she commented. “Oh. Joy.”
“What do you mean?”
Talia sipped, eyes averted. “Speaking of cunt flaps. I feel sorry for you, dealing with that one.”
“Come on, really? She’s not that bad.”
“You weren’t around for the fucking divorce, were you?”
“No,” Iris admitted. She couldn’t discount any of Talia’s comments the way she had Bree’s. This woman had insider knowledge. “But I don’t want to listen to any of this. She’s my boss and I have to face her.” She laughed weakly. “She seems to like me, and I want to keep liking her.”
“I should shut my mouth, then. Really, though. Aren’t those boys a little old to have a nanny around?”
So much for shutting her mouth. “They’re work, believe me.”
“I imagine so, but no more than a mother should be able to handle. I mean, I don’t have a fucking nanny for my kids. I never did.”
On that score, Iris had a bit of insider knowledge herself. Heidi wanted to have another baby someday. She had her boys; she wanted her little girl. According to her, she’d even brought it up to Nic, and he wasn’t opposed to the idea. Heidi was content to keep Iris around because she wanted her still on board should a baby happen anytime soon, and Iris was more than content to stay.
She supposed this summer, while the boys were away, was when Heidi was hoping to make it happen. Hence the trips. Hawaii to start, and now she was in Paris.
But Iris couldn’t breathe a word of that to Eli, and she certainly wasn’t going to spill her boss’s plans here, no matter how much she liked Talia. She sipped her head-swimmingly strong drink and kept her mouth shut.
But the other woman kept pressing. “I mean, it’s getting a little ridiculous, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, hey, maybe in the next year or so she’ll let me go. I don’t know.”
“No offense, you’re nice and all, but it’s ridiculous that you’re here. I can’t believe E allowed it.”
Inhale. Exhale. “You aren’t wrong.”
“Fuck no, I’m not. She was always pulling shit like that on him. I smelled the deceit on that bitch from the time he started bringing her around. The poor bastard had to go and have kids with her, though, and now she has his balls in her purse for life.”
“They’re great kids.”
“I know they are. And he’s a great dad. There aren’t many of them out here, believe that. She didn’t deserve him, and he deserves a hell of a lot better.”
“Okay.”
Talia sighed and rolled her eyes. “All right, I’m sorry, I said too much. You’re so loyal, damn.”
“I didn’t want to be here any more than Elijah wanted me here, trust me.”
“Yet she made you come anyway, knowing how uncomfortable it would make everyone. Unable to even tolerate, for one second, the thought of Elijah being able to enjoy some extended time with his kids that she can’t control in some way.”
“It isn’t my place to question. I’m doing my job.” It had become an automatic response.
“I know.” Talia sipped. Then the sip turned into a guzzle, and she slammed her empty glass down, grimacing. “Just so you know. I called bullshit on that when he first told us about all this. Doing your job, my ass—you just wanted free passes. But then I met you, and . . . you seem legit.”
Thank God. She didn’t need this woman smelling any deceit on her and running to Eli with it. “Legit?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but no one who dresses like you could be a metal fan.”
“Thanks.”
“Where did you even come from? I want to take you shopping. Tomorrow, we have a day off. Let’s go tomorrow.”
Iris was about to get whiplash from the change of subjects. “I don’t know if—”
Talia slashed her hand through the air as if cutting Iris’s words in two. “Shh! Shh. We need to get our hot asses off this bus, and you know it. Or out of the hotel room or whatever.” The woman was about to fall over, so Iris doubted she would even remember these plans tomorrow.
“Okay, sure. Sounds like fun.”
“Awesome. Want another?”
She had taken precisely four tiny sips and could already feel the effects. “I’d better not.”
“Fuckin’ farm girl over here.”
Iris smirked. If she were a real farm girl, she’d be able to drink Talia under the table. “Nah. No farm.”
Talia made herself another. And another. What conversation remained turned practically incoherent,
then Eli and Russell finally came back. Iris tipped her chin at the drummer. “I think you need to come get your wife.”
“Christ,” Russell muttered, surveying the damage as Talia grinned boozily up at him, letting her hand crawl up under his T-shirt. “I hid our tequila but I guess she found yours.”
Eli laughed. “Need help, brother?”
“Nah, she’s about as heavy as a wet paper towel. Up we go.” Removing Talia’s slim arm from his person, he looped it around his neck and pulled her up, indeed supporting every ounce of her weight as she giggled and stumbled. Iris watched while the couple disappeared off the bus.
“Does she have, like, a problem?” she asked Elijah, who stood lingering across from her.
“Nah. She just likes to let loose every now and then.”
“She said she wants to go shopping with me tomorrow, but I doubt she’ll remember.”
He chuckled. “Don’t bet on it. Shopping is serious business to that one. I’d start making plans to go, if I were you.”
“Oh. Great.”
“Maybe you’ll have fun.”
“Where are the boys?”
“They’ve discovered Russell’s boys’ video games.”
“Is that a good idea? I mean . . . she’s plastered. The kids are going to see her like that.”
Eli sighed. “I’m sure they have before, Iris. He’ll put her to bed and she’ll be out in five seconds. Are you hungry?”
Smooth, the way he changed topics without giving her a chance to voice her objections further. He was surely getting tired of hearing them, so she looked at her barely touched margarita and nodded. “Yeah.”
He grinned, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. “You should finish it.”
“I don’t think so. There’s enough tequila in that thing to put me on the floor.”
“I might like to see that.”
She sent him a withering look. “I’m sure you would.”
“Come on. Let’s go grab food while they’re occupied.”
Let’s? As in both of them? There hadn’t been many opportunities to be alone with him. Hardly any, actually, unless the boys were sleeping, and then she usually tried to be asleep herself. “Shouldn’t we not? We’re trying not to start any rumors.”
“We’re just walking over to catering, Iris.”
Of course. Her cheeks flamed. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her to go to a restaurant with him or anything. Just to grab food and probably walk directly back to the bus.
“You should look around this place. It’s one of my favorite amphitheaters in the world.”
Red Rocks, a few miles outside of Denver. She’d heard the guys talking enthusiastically about how amazing the acoustics were, the high walls of natural rock on either side of the audience creating a tunnel of sound like a river. She’d barely stepped off the bus since she’d been here. Actually, she rarely stepped off the bus if she could help it, not unless the boys wanted to go do something, or it was time to go in for the show. He’d probably noticed.
“It’s okay,” she said, and took a sip of her drink despite herself. His eyes were still on her; she could feel their weight like a physical touch.
“You don’t have to sit here bored out of your mind,” he said at last, just when the silence had stretched to the point of being awkward. “The sun is going down; it’s amazing out there. The boys are good. Go enjoy yourself.”
The last time she’d tried to go anywhere by herself, she’d had to run back to him for safety. Ever since then, she’d tried to never be alone lest Quin trap her again. Despite Elijah telling her that it was taken care of, and despite Quin never even glancing in her direction when she had to be near him, anxiety gnawed at her. There were dozens of Quins out there, and these were not her people.
“I’m fine,” she told him.
“Iris. Come on. I’ll go with you.”
She looked at him, refusing to allow herself to be intimidated, because God, he intimidated her. And it wasn’t just that he’d never wanted her here, it was . . . everything. Since their talk the first night of the tour, she’d done everything she could to not get in his way either, to not find herself the direct recipient of that cool, scrutinizing green stare. “Why?”
“Because we’ve been hitting it hard and heavy lately, and you haven’t had much opportunity to get out.”
“I’m not here to have a good time. I’m here to work.”
“Work is occupied for the next two to five hours.”
He wasn’t going to relent. She rose from her seat, feeling the beginnings of panic stir in her chest, wrapping its dark claws around her heart and giving it a sharp rattle. “Heidi wanted me to keep my eyes on those boys at all times. If anything, I should go over there and—”
Gently, his hands closed around her shoulders. Iris found herself exactly where she didn’t want to be: staring up into that green gaze. It delved into her, smoothing over all the ragged parts, all those insecure, unsure, unstable pieces of her soul he was responsible for in the first place. She released a long breath as he spoke, his voice gentle but intense. “Iris. It’s okay. They’re okay. I wouldn’t let them go anywhere or do anything that I wasn’t one-thousand-fucking-percent sure was safe, no matter what she’s told you.”
There was a sad frustration behind those words. She heard it as plainly as if he’d told her it was there. “Talia told me some things,” she began hesitantly, her mouth speaking out of its own volition.
Those eyes narrowed, the small muscles around them hardening. “No doubt they were true.”
She didn’t let herself say anything further, though she wanted to. The words were in her mouth. They tasted too bitter.
It was hard to know who to believe in these situations. There were two sides to every story, and the truth usually lay somewhere in the middle. Of course his camp was going to look out for him. Of course they were going to be on his side. And Heidi’s camp . . .
Heidi didn’t really have a camp. Only Nic. And Iris.
Her boss had a hundred acquaintances, people she shared air kisses with when they saw each other at events. People she lunched with, shopped with. But among them, Iris couldn’t count one true friend. Not one person she could call in a crisis and expect to be there, except her. And she paid her well to be there.
It had to be a lonely existence. To have all these people, Elijah’s people, who could have been on her side too, if she’d allowed them to be. Had any of them liked her, welcomed her? Talia had spoken of not liking her from the beginning, but he had stood by Heidi. Believed in her enough to marry her. Have children with her.
If she really had betrayed him, Iris wasn’t sure she could forgive her. How could she continue to stand up for someone who’d done that?
She couldn’t. Which was why she didn’t want to know.
But why would Heidi send her staunchest champion into a viper’s pit of enemies if any of these accusations were true? Wouldn’t she fear they’d be able to fill her head full of their lies?
If Eli had detected any of these lightning-fast emotions crossing her face, he didn’t comment on them, but he did seem to read her mind. His hands fell away from her shoulders, leaving her feeling oddly bereft. “If you’re looking for Heidi’s friends out here, you won’t find any. At all.”
“I get that, because they’re all your friends.”
He scoffed. “Even the ones who aren’t necessarily my friends wouldn’t piss on her if she were on fire. Ask Quin what he thinks about her.”
“I’m not inclined to ask Quin anything.”
“You like avoiding the point, don’t you?”
“The only point I wish anyone around here—including you—would acknowledge is that this is none of my business.”
“You’re the one who brought up Talia talking about her. If you need information, Iris, just ask. I know more than all of them put together.”
“No. I don’t need to know these things.” Even if she was growing more curious by the hour. “And I ca
n’t imagine you would want to talk about them with me.”
“I don’t. But if it would keep you from looking at me like I’m scum of the goddamn earth, then I will.”
Stunned, she opened her mouth, then closed it, finding no words to force past her lips. Her mind hummed with blank shock. “Do I— I don’t mean to—”
“You do,” he said, his top lip curling in distaste. “I can see it. She’s filled your head so full of her bullshit there’s no hope of digging it all out, and I’m not inclined to try anymore.”
Had he ever tried to start with? “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Heidi hasn’t told me much. Your blame is misplaced.”
“So I should put it all on you then? It’s just a preconceived notion that I’m a piece of shit?”
“I never said anything like that, and regardless of what you think, or any way I’ve ever looked at you, I’ve never thought it, either.”
“Something made you agree with her when she sent you out here with me.”
“I don’t know why you simply refuse to grasp the fact that she tells me what to do and I do it.”
“Then she’s speaking loud and clear by sheer virtue of you being here. My blame isn’t misplaced, is it?”
She guessed he’d talked her right into this particular corner. Sighing, she dropped her eyes. His own had never turned outright hostile, not like usual. It was as if he thought he could convince her of his argument by sheer force of will, if he looked at her long enough and intently enough. Iris began to miss the warm reassurance of his hands on her shoulders. That touch might have convinced her more than anything else.
“Fine. Let’s go get something to eat,” she said wearily, more to escape this conversation than anything else.
Eli took a step away from her, still frowning, but gave a single nod and indicated she should walk ahead of him with a sweep of his arm. She went, feeling those eyes on her like a prickling at the back of her neck. As if any second a knife might plunge into her flesh there.
Twelve
If there was anything eight years of marriage had taught him, it was that the word “fine” coming from an unhappy female’s mouth meant that a rain of shit was about to pour down on his head. That word alone was enough to make him recoil and, if his pride would allow, begin immediate damage control measures. He’d always chosen those battles carefully with his ex. One thing he and Heidi had in common was their stubbornness, so he knew when she would bend and when she would break. He knew when to accept the impending shit storm—because it couldn’t be prevented—and when to go for the umbrella to head it off.