Instead, I called my uncle and filled him in on the real reason I was in Kent County and holed up in his mansion. To say he was uncaring was an understatement. He had no thoughts on my predicament one way or the other. Maybe if I’d told him some sick freak broke into his niece’s house and jerked off on her bed he would’ve cared, but even that was unlikely. I didn’t want to even think about that because when the image started to creep into my thoughts, I could feel the bile rise in my throat.
My uncle told me he’d email a list of the people who’d had access to the house, and gave his approval on any security system and new lighting the guys wanted to put in. But that permission led to an argument over who was paying. In the end, I gave in. I didn’t have it in me to fight with him over something stupid. If he wanted me to pay, it was no skin off my nose and I had bigger shit to deal with. Like my best friend withholding information from me.
I also had a sinking feeling Bobby was holding something else back. On that thought, I went in search of my friend-slash-assistant. It took a while, the house was big and I was trying to avoid Chasin and Nixon. I still hadn’t recovered from seeing the man who’d given me hope that maybe my luck had changed and he’d done that in the matter of hours. Then he’d taken that hope and extinguished it.
I found Bobby kicking back in a lounger on the rooftop widow’s walk. Her head was tipped back, eyes closed. She looked like she was taking a mid-afternoon snooze. But I knew she wasn’t; her hands were balled into tight fists resting near her hips and she was frowning.
“You got a minute?” I asked.
Bobby’s eyes slowly opened and came to me.
“Of course,” she muttered and smiled.
I knew Bobby well. I’d known her since forever, therefore I knew all of her smiles. The ones she gave my fans, the ones she gave record executives and my manager. Those were fake—they were business. Then there were the smiles she’d given me and her friends over the years. The ones that reached her eyes, split her face in two, and made her nose crinkle.
Bobby’s smile was all business.
I felt the pang of loss so deep I had to sit down.
“What’s happened to us?” I whispered.
“What?”
“Us. You know, Roberta and Genevieve. When did we lose them?”
“Viv, honey, we’re right here,” she returned.
“No, we’re not. We’re boss and employee. When did we turn into that?”
Bobby lifted her back off the lounger and sat up straight.
“I understand you’re pissed—”
“No, you don’t. You can’t begin to imagine,” I cut her off.
“Oh, yes, I can, Genevieve. You think I haven’t felt it. I haven’t seen it. I’ve watched you pull into yourself over the last few years and no matter what I do, I can’t pull you out. So, I’ve done the only thing I can do and I’ve stood between you and the world. I know you’re pissed I didn’t tell you about what happened but I did that for a reason. I did it to protect you. I did it so you didn’t pull further into yourself, shut the gates, and lock them. Which means you’d be locking me out more than you already are. I know what this is doing to you.” She whispered the last part, not bothering to hide the anguish.
Naturally, she’d felt me pulling away. Bobby would, she was the only person I’d allowed close. The only one I trusted in a business that was full of phony people who wouldn’t give me the time of day if I didn’t make them money. I was an outsider in an industry that would eat me alive if I let them. It was exhausting, always having my guard up, always on the lookout for someone who wanted to exploit me, bash me, use me.
So Bobby was the only person in my inner circle, until she wasn’t and I become a nation of one.
More now than ever, I was alone.
“The last two years have sucked,” I reminded her.
“They have. But instead of leaning on me, like I’ve done with you a thousand times, you locked me out. That sucked, Viv. Do you know how bad it feels to know that your best friend is hurting but she doesn’t trust you with her pain? What your parents did to you was low, even for them. But not surprising. You knew one way or another they were gonna try to cash in on your success. We knew it and we were prepared. But after that, when the lawsuit was over, you slammed the gates closed and I’ve been trying to climb over ever since. Knowing how you are, do you think I was all fired up to pile more shit on you?”
I didn’t want to think about my parents or what they’d done to me. Bobby was right about one thing, those gates were closed, chained, and double padlocked. Or they were, but I’d briefly unlocked them only to get burned.
“What else?” I demanded, and Bobby’s lips pinched together. I’d been right, she was sitting on more information. “You think you’re protecting me, but you’re wrong. Had I known someone had been in my house, I wouldn’t have turned down the bodyguard Leslie offered.” Bobby’s face scrunched and I closed my eyes, shielding myself from the betrayal. “You went behind my back and agreed to the bodyguard.” I surmised.
“Yes. You needed to be protected. You wouldn’t agree, so I told Leslie to put someone on you. You never knew he was there, he didn’t disrupt your life, and he was only with you when you left the house.”
“What else?”
“During your last tour, there were gifts at every venue and twice he got into your dressing room.”
My stomach hollowed out and something ugly started to grow.
“Anything else?”
“We didn’t tell you because at first, we thought it was your parents fucking with you, playing stupid games to freak you out. After they lost the lawsuit, your dad said—”
“I know what my father said,” I cut her off, not needing the reminder that the man who had a hand in making me told me he’d ruin me.
“Well, after what he said, Leslie and Melissa thought it was best to keep an eye on him. When the first letter was delivered to your house, they thought it was him. If nothing else, he could’ve been a PR nightmare.”
There it was—my parents gutting me, shredding my soul, their greed and desire to steal what they thought they deserved—was nothing more than a PR nightmare.
“Right,” I mumbled.
“Why do you do that?” Bobby asked.
“Do what?”
“Think the worst of me?”
I jerked back, taking the lounger with me. The sound of the frame scraping the decking muffled my huff.
“I don’t think the worst of you,” I denied.
“Viv, I just saw it. I watched the hurt cross your face. I am not them.”
Bobby shook her head. “The only reason I took this job was so I could have a front-row seat to your dreams coming true. So I could cheer you on and celebrate with you. And in the beginning, I loved my job. I loved watching you on stage. You come alive, you’re electric, you were born to be up there. And I fucking loved watching you shine.”
She sighed, all the previous enthusiasm draining from her voice. “I don’t want your money, I don’t want your fame, I don’t want jack shit from you. Never did, never will. And it kills me I have to say that to you. You are not Vivi Rush to me. I’m not protecting your image, your income, or your deals, I’m protecting—you.”
Her voice raised. “So, no, fuck no, I wasn’t going to tell you that some dick, possibly your father, was trailing you around leaving fucked-up gifts for you, or breaking into your dressing rooms. I didn’t want that light you shine to dim. I didn’t want you freaked out before you took the stage, the only place in the last two years I’ve seen you truly happy. That’s not a no, that’s a hell-to-the-motherfucking no, I wasn’t taking that from you and I wasn’t letting anyone else.”
Bobby scrubbed her face and her voice lowered again. “But everything changed when I found…what I found in your room. Your dad is a dick of monumental proportions, but not even he would stoop so low and do something so vile on his daughter’s bed. That’s when I started making plans to get you somewhere saf
e and find a way to come clean about everything that’s happened this last year.”
“This wasn’t the dream,” I admitted.
“I know it wasn’t. And I hate this for you. I hate that you worked your ass off only to have to deal with this.”
Bobby misunderstood, but I was too tired, too freaked out, to explain to her what I meant.
“Is there anything else?”
“No. I’ve given Nixon an inventory, including pictures of the gifts, copies of the letter, and a timeline.”
“Thanks,” was all I said because there wasn’t anything else to say.
“One more thing,” Bobby said. The look on her face told me to brace so I did. “I quit.”
“What?” I croaked.
“I quit. I’ll stay until this is over, and I’ll stay until you find my replacement. I’ll do what I can to train her, but after that, I’m done.”
More betrayal.
“That look tells me I made the right decision.”
I shot to my feet and stared down at my best friend. “The right decision is to abandon me? I know the last two years have been rough. But I thought… never mind.”
I was halfway to the door leading downstairs when Bobby called my name.
“I’m quitting the job, not you.”
“Same thing.”
“It sure as fuck isn’t and that’s why I’m quitting. You’ve lumped me in with all those greedy assholes that want a piece of you. Guess what, friend, I just want you. I want what we’ve always had, back. I want you back. I want us to have secrets again. I want us to laugh and joke and be friends. Hell, Genevieve, you met a guy and invited him to your house, obviously got busy with him, and you didn’t even tell me.”
Bobby raised her hand, stopping me from protesting. “And before you tell me it was nothing, it was something. And even if it was nothing, I used to know about the nothings. I used to know everything.”
She pierced me with her knowing stare. “But Chasin Murray isn’t nothing. I didn’t see your reaction to him, I felt it. Not only didn’t you tell me, you lied to me. Ever since I got here, you’ve been near tears when you think I’m not watching. I asked you what was wrong and you told me you were stressed out about your stalker. But that song…shit, Viv, it oozes heartbreak.
“And”—Bobby surged to her feet—“that new tattoo? But it’s not me. The refrain in the song—you tattooed that on your arm? You’ve never tattooed lyrics on your body, and, babe, you’ve written some kickass songs. But those words you inked on your skin, so I know they mean something. But I don’t know what the hell they mean and that fucking kills. So I quit. I don’t want to be your assistant. I want to be your friend.”
When Bobby was done delivering her perfectly aimed death shot to my heart, I turned and ran down the stairs like a chicken. I couldn’t face her and the truth she told. I made it to the bottom of the stairs and hit a brick wall of muscle.
With an oomph, I collided with Chasin.
Much to my discomfort, his arms went around me in an effort to keep me from bouncing off of him. Not that I wasn’t happy to keep my feet, but that meant I was in his arms—again. For the second time in one day, I was reminded of how good it felt to be surrounded by all things Chasin.
A reminder I didn’t need, because I hadn’t forgotten. But it was one I couldn’t afford.
Not now.
Not when my defenses were down.
If Bobby’s words pried open my emotional padlocks, Chasin’s soft “baby” blew the gates wide open. My body bucked, his arms tightened, his head lowered. His face now in my hair, he muttered, “Baby, what the fuck?”
It was the second “baby” that did it.
I wrenched myself free and stepped away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Genevieve—”
“Just don’t. Please.”
Chasin glanced over my shoulder, his face turned to granite and his eyes narrowed. I used that to my advantage and took off down the hall while his attention was diverted.
Yes, it was the coward’s way out.
But I didn’t care.
Bobby was leaving me.
Chasin had been nothing more than a figment of my over-active imagination. A man I’d invented because I was stupid and desperate. But even being both of those things, I couldn’t believe I’d been so wrong.
I slammed my bedroom door, locked it because I was out of emotional glue so I needed the physical barrier. My back hit the wall and I slid down, landing on my ass. With my chin resting on my knees, staring at nothing, I allowed myself this one last breakdown. I’d let Bobby’s deflection settle, Chasin’s unwanted presence harden my heart. Then I’d get up, pull myself together, and move the fuck on.
Me, myself, and I.
That was all I needed.
7
Chasin didn’t take his eyes off the woman standing in front of him. She was elevated three steps from the bottom tread and he was still taller than her. But he wasn’t contemplating the height difference. Instead, he was reeling in his temper before he asked Bobby what the hell she’d said to Genevieve that made her white as a ghost and on the verge of tears.
“I know what you must think of me,” Bobby said.
“You have no idea what I think,” Chasin answered honestly, not yet having a hold on his temper.
“One thing I’ve learned in the years I’ve worked with Viv is how to read people. In this business, you either learn quick or you’re taken for a ride that’s both expensive and emotionally draining. So I learned. You don’t like me much, you think I was wrong for withholding information from Viv. You think I’m one of those assholes who looks at Vivi and sees money, opportunity, and is willing to step on her to get their foot up on the next rung. You’re incorrect, I am not one of those people. But since you think I am, you’re trying to figure out what I did to upset Viv. Just so you don’t have to waste anymore headspace, and you can focus on what’s important, which is protecting her, I’ll tell you. I quit. Beyond that, it’s not any of your business.”
Chasin stopped staring at Bobby and started examining the woman.
“So, what? Times are hard, she’s got a stalker and you’re afraid that will bleed into your life so you’re gonna bail?” Bobby jerked back like Chasin had landed a physical blow, but she didn’t answer so he moved on. “Why’d you withhold the information?”
Bobby woodenly walked down the final steps, stopped, tipped her head back, and looked up at him. He had to give it to her—the woman was a tiny little thing, but damn if she didn’t have one hell of a death glare.
“Because I care about her.”
“Seems to me if you cared about her, you would’ve armed her with all the information.”
“You’d think that because you don’t know her.” Chasin felt the knife that Genevieve had already plunged into his chest twist, but Bobby wasn’t done. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I do know there’s no one like Genevieve Ellison, which means you fucked up huge when you hurt her.”
The knife twisted some more.
“Why do you think I’m the one that fucked up?”
Bobby stopped scowling and a sad, unsympathetic smile that said he was an idiot tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Because unlike you, I do know Viv. And her being her means she doesn’t invite men into her life. I can’t remember the last time that happened.”
Bobby’s smile tightened. “Let me explain something to you in case you missed it. Viv is beautiful, men have always fallen over themselves to get to her. Add the fame, the money, she could have any man she wanted with the snap of her fingers. Yet she keeps herself to herself and lets no one in.”
Bobby paused and studied Chasin, she did this thoroughly from top to toe, then back up, before meeting his gaze. Chasin wasn’t paying attention to her scrutiny. He was stuck on something that Bobby had said—she keeps herself to herself. Genevieve kept herself removed. This didn’t jibe with the woman he’d spent the night with. At no
time had he felt like Genevieve was closed off and cold. She’d been the opposite with him. But before he could think more about it, Bobby continued.
“So I know my girl would’ve never allowed you into this house, let alone into her bed, if she didn’t see something special in you. Which means you did or said something that proved she was wrong, and Viv doesn’t give second chances. You fucked up so huge, you can’t begin to understand. But you will, and when that shit sinks in, you’ll realize whatever you did was the stupidest mistake of your life.”
Chasin wasn’t big on women throwing attitude, liked it even less when they were tossing it at him, but he had to admit he liked Bobby’s bold protectiveness of Genevieve. Which made it all the more confusing why she was abandoning her.
“I heard her talking to you and I jumped to conclusions,” I admitted.
Bobby’s brows pinched and she shook her head. “And you didn’t believe her when she told you I was a woman,” she guessed.
“Worse. I didn’t give her the chance to explain.”
“Idiot,” she muttered and stalked off.
Chasin remained rooted and watched her go, thinking over what Bobby had inadvertently shared. Genevieve didn’t invite men into her bed—yet, not only did she invite Chasin, she’d done it enthusiastically. He didn’t need Bobby to tell him he’d fucked up, he knew the second he’d walked out of her house. He’d paused on her porch and considered going back in to hear her out. But then visions of his mother had invaded his thoughts and he’d left.
Viv doesn’t give second chances.
Fucking shit.
“Just got done going over the timeline,” Alec told Chasin.
He was standing in the same spot where Genevieve had been when he’d overheard her talking to Bobby, staring out the big window looking at the dock she’d fallen off of. Perfect timing, her splashing into the water and him kayaking past.
Christ, she was beautiful even with her hair wet and plastered to her head.
Chasin's Surrender (Gemini Group Book 5) Page 5