Текст книги "My Kind of Forever"

Автор книги: Heidi McLaughlin

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

As soon as I hang up with Josie, I know I need to get away from everyone here. Being at Metro is pointless. We’re just sitting around shooting the shit about where we’ve been and wondering when we’ll be the next hour-long segment on VHI profiling our failing careers.

Listening to Josie provide the play-by-play of Noah’s game really struck a chord with me. I should be there and the fact that Josie didn’t hound me about it tells me two things: I either have the best fucking wife in the world or she’s accepted the fact that this is our life. I know it’s a combination of the two and right now I’m feeling like I don’t deserve to be her husband.

I walk the streets, not worrying whether anyone will see me. Aside from the images of Layla, nothing else has been in the press. I stop dead in my tracks when I think about those images. I’m a selfish prick for not telling Josie about them. She’s got too much on her plate right now – that’s the ridiculous excuse I’m going to use to justify my actions until I can grow a set and tell her. My hesitation is because I’m not prepared for her response. Telling her that the images don’t mean anything won’t be enough to keep her thoughts at bay. I know she trusts me, but she doesn’t trust Los Angeles. Not that I can blame her. This town is already trying to ruin our relationship.

As soon as I turn the corner, I’m facing the Ducati dealership – the same one I bought from long before I left Los Angeles. Now, my motorcycle sits in my garage, coming out only occasionally. Standing here, I realize how much I miss riding my bike.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

A salesman appears to the side of me. He’s dressed in a suit and is eyeing my distressed jeans and designer shirt with strategic holes in it.

“She is.” The thought occurs to me that I need an escape while I’m here and this just might be it. “Do you have rentals?”

The salesman puts his hands in his pockets and pretends to ponder my question. I know they do, but he’s looking at me, wondering if I can afford to rent one of their bikes. He can’t tell that my shirt cost over a hundred bucks and my jeans twice that. He looks behind me, noticing that there isn’t a car parked in front of his store and is likely wondering how I got here.

“So about that rental?”

“Yeah, I mean if we have the loaners in stock, we can.” This is his way of brushing me off. We’ll go inside and he’ll sit behind his computer and type, likely sending a message to his manager, telling him that some bum wants to rent a Ducati. The manager will come out, pretending he doesn’t have an idea of why I’m here. It’s a game and I’ve played it before.

He doesn’t say anything as we walk into the dealership. The smell of new rubber permeates through the air. These bikes have very few, if any, miles at all. It’s been so long since I’ve paid attention to what new bikes are coming out and I’m surprised by the difference in the new Scrambler. It’s all Ducati, but with a motor cross feel. The back roads of Beaumont would be like heaven on this bike.

“She’s new, just came out. If you’re into just cruising along or know of any dirt roads, that’s the bike you want. However, she’s slow with only seventy-five horsepower.”

The all black bike with yellow accents is easy on the eyes. I could definitely see teaching Noah how to ride something like this.

“What’s the price?”

“Oh, huh…” he scratches his head. “She’s just under ten thousand.”

Ten thousand is nothing, but I didn’t plan on spending money on something so frivolous. I’m already worried about making sure the money I do have continues to grow even when the music stops. I could be faced with paying two college bills if either boy doesn’t receive a scholarship. I’m fully expecting Noah to receive one, but he could change his mind about sports and chose a different path.

“I’ll take it,” I tell him without second-guessing myself. I know I don’t need it and I know that I’m contradicting every reasonable thought flooding my mind, but I’ll just have to add it to the list of things I need to tell Josie about. Fuck, if that list isn’t getting long.

The salesman looks at me like I have two heads. I probably do. I pull out my wallet and hand him my credit card. He takes it, looking at the name and back at me.

“I’ll just…” he points his thumb over his shoulder. He’s nervous and probably hoping that I don’t say anything about his poor sales technique to his manager.

“I’ll need a helmet too, please.”

“Right away, Mr. Page.”

I can’t help but smile as he rushes to his cubicle. Others linger around, a few of them whispering. It’ll be exciting if someone comes up to ask for my autograph. It’ll make me feel like I matter again. I sit down on my bike, getting a feel for how she feels between my legs. She’s smaller and lighter than the one I have at home, but I have a feeling this one will be ridden more. I’ll even teach Josie how to ride it. This will be perfect for her.

A flash gets my attention, and when I look up, I see one of the young saleswomen quickly typing on her phone as she turns away from me. My heart drops, knowing that my image is about to hit social media. I won’t have to tell Josie what I’m doing because this chick just did it for me.

“Hey,” I call out, stopping her dead in her tracks. “What did you say when you posted my picture?”

“I… I didn’t.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head slightly. “Lying is very unbecoming and I do believe taking photos of your clients without their permission is against company policy, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Page. I’ll remove it immediately,” she says as she walks away. The damage is done. She knows it and is probably at her desk crying. I’m faced with either telling her boss or letting it go. Today is not the day that I want to ruin anyone’s life, so she should be thankful. My picture is out there and there isn’t shit I can do about it. When I call to talk to Noah tonight, I’ll tell Josie that I had an impulse and bought a new motorcycle.

Once the paperwork is printed and everything is signed, I’m pushing my new toy out of the showroom and onto the streets of LA. Slipping my helmet on, I turn her on, letting the bike idle while I get a feel for her. I can’t wait to see what she does on the road.

It’s not long until I’m weaving my way through Mulholland Blvd. After being gone for a few years, I’d have thought things would’ve changed, but they haven’t. I slow down when I get to my grandma’s street. I haven’t been back here since I moved into the penthouse and I’m not sure why I am now. Shutting off the bike and removing my helmet, I look up at the big white house that I called home for a short time of my life.

The black gate and fence that protected her from intruders still stands tall. Whoever is living here has been maintaining the landscaping that she loved so much. In fact, everything looks freshly painted. My heart swells with pride for my grandparents, knowing that the home they shared is being loved.

“Can I help you?” A lady walking her dog stops next to me.

“No, just looking at the house. I used to know the previous owner.”

She looks at me with confusion written all over her face. “The lady that lived here died, but her family took over her estate.”

She’s right, she did die... but now I’m confused. I run my hand over my hair and think back to when my grandmother died. I told Sam to sell it or donate it, but never followed up on it.

“Do you know who owns it?”

The lady shakes her head and offers a small smile. “West something or other. The family is never here but they make sure the house is well maintained. You’d think someone lives there.”

“Don’t they?” I ask, even though I know the answer. The only person, other than me, who could stake a claim, is my mother and I’m not sure she even knows her mother died.

“Not for ten years or more. I’ve lived next to this house for fifteen years. There was a young kid one time, but haven’t seen him since she passed away.” The neighbor looks at the house and sighs. “I’m sure if you were interested in buying, they’d sell. The County office will have the information.”

She and her dog are down the street before I’m done processing everything. There’s no way I still own this house, but someone does. Someone has been taking care of this property all these years and I need to figure out who they are and why they’re doing it.

When I arrive back at the club, the back alley is lined-up with cars. At best, there have been two or three back here at a time, but nowhere near a dozen or more. The benefit of having a bike is that you can park anywhere, squeezing into the smallest spots, even making your own. That’s what I end up doing, right by the back door.

As soon as I’m inside, Harrison is pulling me into the green room. He looks pissed off, and that’s not a good thing. It takes a lot to piss him off.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Oh yeah, he’s pissed.

“I needed to get some fresh air.”

Harrison pulls off his trademark beanie and runs his hand through his short hair. “Remember when Trixie asked if Sal sent us?”

I nod, remembering well. Harrison and I had no idea who she was talking about.

“Sal is Mr. Moreno, as in Sam’s father, as in majority owner of Moreno Entertainment.”

I shake my head, disagreeing with him. “Nah, Sam’s dad is named Anthony, but he prefers to be called Moreno. It’s like he thinks he’s Madonna or some shit like that.”

“No,” he says, with his head moving back and forth. “Salvador Anthony Moreno is his name and right now he’s out in the club with a shit load of fucking reporters. Trixie hired him to do some promo work for the fundraiser and he’s scheduled a press event.”

“What?”

“Yeah, apparently he and Trixie go way back and she’s always called him Sal. When he started his company, he started going by Anthony.”

“Um… this isn’t good.”

“No, it’s not. We haven’t done a legit interview since Sam was managing us and now that she’s not here to monitor questions, I’m afraid of what shit is going to be asked.”

I start to pace, thinking about what we can do. “We don’t have to do it. We’re not under contract to perform so we’ll skip the interviews.”

“You know, I thought about that as everyone was setting up,” he pauses and puts his hat back on. “But we need the press. We need to be in front of the people again.”

I shake my head, not willing to put myself out there. “I can’t.”

The door to the green room opens. Trixie steps in, looking like the Trixie of old. Her hair is jet black and her lips are painted crimson red. She looks like she’s about to shatter the dreams of every wannabe musician tonight.

“I need you, Page.”

“No can do, Trixie. Interviews are messy and we don’t have an agent or manager to ward off fucked up questions.”

Trixie walks up to me with her hands on her hips. “I gave you a shot when you needed it and now I need you. I need people to see that it’s never too late to come home.”

“I know that, it’s why I left LA.”

“You may have left LA, but it didn’t leave you. You still depend on the industry to provide for you. I need you, Page. You came back to help, so do it. You owe me.” Her hands drop from her hips and her posture changes. She looks sad and broken. I shouldn’t fall for this, but I am. She’s right, I do owe her.

“Fine, but if there’s a question we don’t want to answer, we’re saying no comment.”

“I don’t give a shit if you flip them off, just go sit at the table and fucking smile. Make those reporters wet themselves for all I care.”

I watch Trixie leave, throwing her hands in the air and mumbling to herself. I look over at Harrison, who is stoic. “I guess we need to go out there.”

“Yep,” he says as he walks toward the door. I follow in step, just like usual. This was something Sam had done for us, lined us up. She always said it was important that I was the last one to enter. Even though she’s gone, we’re still walking the same way.

As soon as we’re visible to the reporters the clicking of shutters and bright lights of bulbs are going off like crazy. I’m instantly on edge, and as I sit down next to Layla, I realize I don’t want to be here. I’m also hit with the fact that for the first time in years, I miss Sam right now. When I look up, I quickly see Mr. Moreno, a.k.a. Sal, in the corner. He tips his glass to me as I fight the urge to flip him off.

Every fiber of my being is telling me to chase after Bianca and ask for more. Not for another apology, but for more of her story. Maybe if she can explain her life to me, I can help Liam understand, even though I’m not sure I fully grasp everything she just told me. What I do know is Liam and I, as a couple, have been robbed of a relationship with Bianca. To me, Sterling is a lost cause. Even if he showed up full of apologies, I can’t see myself listening to him, let alone believing a word that comes out of his mouth.

Since Liam and I started dating, I’ve been the outcast – someone who would never be good enough for their son. The photographic memories Liam and I share have always included my family or Katelyn’s and Mason’s. The Westburys were always absent from all of them. I don’t even know if his mother ever posed with him for a prom photo. My guess is she didn’t, especially knowing he was going with me.

I head to work before more anger starts to set in. I can’t dwell on the past or change what has happened. I can only make a change for the future, if that’s what I want. I’m not sure it is though. How much effort do I put forth not knowing whether Bianca would return the gesture or not? Or whether she would be allowed to? We all know Sterling is controlling but Bianca came to my baby shower so either she’s sneaking out, or he’s just too old to care. Or maybe she’s had enough and is standing up to him. I have to admit I find the latter harder to believe.

As soon as I enter the florist side of my business, Jenna barely pops her head up from under the counter. I give her my best ‘what the hell look’, causing her to shake her head.

“I’m restocking,” she says disappearing under the counter.

“I did that last night.” I walk around and find the wrapping paper scattered all over the floor.

Jenna sits back on her knees and sighs. “I made the mistake of letting Eden loose for a few minutes and apparently she didn’t like the way we had things.”

“At least she’s cute,” I say to Jenna’s back. Eden is adorable and has everyone wrapped around her little finger, but she’s a complete terror when she’s on a mission and nothing seems to be able to change her mind.

“Let me help you.” I bend down and start gathering the sheets of paper we use to wrap the flowers in. “How are you doing?” I ask her, curious if I’m losing touch with reality because while I miss Liam, the pain I was feeling earlier – the heartache – has subsided and that scares me. This is also the first time Jimmy’s been gone since the shooting.

Jenna shrugs and slides her stack of paper back into the cubbyhole. It doesn’t escape my notice that she’s wiping away tears. I don’t know if they’re from Jimmy being gone, or because of Eden causing havoc. “It gets easier, right?” When she looks at me, her eyes are red and puffy. I drop my stack, adding to Eden’s mess, and pull her into my arms.

“I want to tell you yes, that it does get better, but I would be lying. I think we just get used to it.” I pull back and wipe away her tears. “It’s different for each of us. I was asking myself the same thing earlier. I’m not in agony over him being gone; does that mean I love him less?”

She shakes her head. “I’m so worried though. What if he’s not ready to be all crazy up on stage?”

I return to my stack and hand it to her, waiting for her to slide the papers back in. “What does Xander say?”

Jenna shrugs again. “Jimmy says everything is fine and Xander agrees, but I can’t help feeling they’re not being honest with me. I’ve seen him get winded chasing Eden around the house! He tells me it’s nothing and that he’s out of shape, but how can that be if he’s working out all the time?”

“I think being on stage and chasing a toddler around are two different things. When he’s on stage, the exhilaration will keep him going. Besides, you know Liam and Harrison aren’t going to let anything happen to him.”

“I know,” she sighs, as she picks up the last stack of paper. “I think I’m looking for excuses for him to come home. I was thinking of taking a couple of days off and going out there.”

Her thought gives me the same idea but with Noah’s schedule, I can’t. He needs at least one parent at his games. If he weren’t playing baseball right now, we’d both be in California with Liam.

“I think you should. I think Jimmy will like that, and maybe it’ll put your mind at ease.”

“You think?”

“I do, and you guys can find time to take Eden to Disneyland. I bet she’d love that.”

Jenna wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. She knows I’d do anything for her and if that means she needs time off, she can have it. Truthfully, she does me a favor by working here.

We’re still sitting on the floor when a young man steps up to the counter. We were both so lost in our conversation that we didn’t hear the chime on the door.

“Sorry,” I say as I scramble to my feet. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s cool,” he says. “I’d like a dozen red roses for my girlfriend.”

Jenna starts to work on his arrangement while I take all of his information and process his order.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask, as he signs his credit card receipt.

“No reason. I was walking by and saw the flowers in the window. I love her and think she should know that I’m thinking about her even as I’m walking down the street.”

Jenna and I both swoon. “She’s lucky to have you. Would you like us to deliver them?” I ask.

“Do chicks like that?”

Jenna giggles. “Is she at work?”

“Yes, she works over at the bank.”

“Then yes,” Jenna says, as she walks around the counter to pick out a vase. “Her co-workers will all dote on her and tell her how lucky she is. They’ll be jealous. Believe me, it’s a good thing.”

“All right, then. How much is delivery?”

“It’s on the house,” I say, before Jenna can tell him the price. This young man is clearly smitten with his girl, and he reminds me of Liam. It’s the least I can do for him.

“Thank you.” He stays to inspect the flowers and chats with us for a few more minutes. When they’re ready, Jenna tells me she’s going to walk them over to the bank and asks if I don’t mind manning the shop. I wave her off. She should know that I don’t mind staying.

The way the café was built, I can watch the flower shop while standing at the register of the café. It was done this way because I never thought I’d need staff for both sides. The café part is booming, especially during meals. In between the peak times, we have patrons who come in who read, gossip, and even write their novels. I like to think of the café as a happy place.

Dana and David are working tonight, training Pete and Tracy, who are both older and looking to supplement their income. My plan is to promote Dana at the end of the month once she tells me if she’s staying on through the summer or not.

“Hey, Josie,” Dana walks by with a tub full of dishes. When I started hiring, Mr. Powell suggested I have everyone call me Mrs. Westbury, just as we still call him Mr. Powell. He said it’s a respect thing, and while I don’t disagree, I find it awkward and impersonal.

“How was the lunch rush?” She passes the bucket off to David, who nods in my direction before disappearing out back.

“Every table was full, and Tracy and Pete really knew how to handle the pressure. David said Pete is a whiz in the kitchen.” Our kitchen isn’t anything extraordinary since we serve mostly soups, salads and sandwiches, but it’s good to know that Pete is capable of keeping up.

“That’s good,” I say, glancing back into the shop to make sure I didn’t miss another chime.

“So, how are you taking everything?”

“With Liam being gone?” I ask with a shrug. “It’s not the first time he’s been gone since we’ve been back together. They toured last year and are hoping to tour this summer, as well. Although, during the summer we can go…” I trail off because Dana is looking at me like I have two heads. Her eyes are squinted as if she’s in deep thought or utterly confused.

“What?” I help her along by asking instead of leaving her sitting there with a strained look on her face, trying to decide how to phrase her next question.

“I just thought… with the… never mind,” she says. She tries to walk away, but I reach out and grab her.

“With the what? Dana, what are you talking about?”

“The photos,” she says quietly, almost... shamefully.

“What photos?” My voice is terse. The tension is already rising.

Dana backs away with her hands up. “I really like my job here, so I’m just going to wait on those customers.”

I stop her again as she tries to pass. “You won’t get fired, nor will I be upset with you. Please tell me what you’re talking about.” I let go of her arm and she digs through her apron, pulling out her phone. After a few seconds of swiping and typing she turns her screen toward me.

I take a step back and take her phone from her. My husband and another woman are kissing. The image is grainy, but there’s no mistaking where his mouth is. I push the screen up and find more of them, together in a restaurant and outside his hotel.

“Who is this?”

“Layla Richards,” she says as my blood runs cold. “According to this article, they used to be…”

“I know who she is,” I say abruptly, as my stomach turns and my heart starts racing. “I need to go. Can you watch the shop until Jenna gets back? She just ran to the bank.”

I don’t wait for her answer as I run out the door. My car is parked down the street, in front of Xander’s gym, and I pray that he isn’t outside when I get there. I fight to hold back the tears as I make my way to my car.

Once inside, I bite the inside of my cheek until I’m far enough away that I can pull over. The scream is nothing like I’ve ever felt before, worse this time than when he left me. I grip the steering wheel, yanking it back and forth as I cry out in anger, frustration and pain. My throat is raw and burning, and the sounds coming out of me are animalistic. I see his face and his eyes as he looks at that woman and I want to strangle him. I want to kill him for doing this to me, for doing this to Noah and our unborn child.

There has to be an explanation. That is what I’m telling myself as I drive home. I can’t fathom the thought of Noah having to go through a divorce. I’ve been down this path with Liam before; I was able to move on and I can do it again, but I’m not sure about Noah.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I yell at the top of my lungs. Not at Liam, but at myself for assuming the worst. He’s always said you can’t trust the media, but was he just saying that so I wouldn’t look or is it true? Or is this true... that he’s with another woman? This is exactly why I didn’t want him to go back to Los Angeles. I can’t handle this part – the Liam Page –part – of his life.

When I pull into the driveway, I’m caught off guard by the sight of Bianca throwing a football around with Noah. She’s still dressed as she was earlier and somehow makes tossing a ball look effortless in heels. I want to talk to her more, but now is not the right time. I pull down my visor and check my eyes. They’re bloodshot and my eyelids are puffy.

Great!

I take a deep breath and open the door. I can’t sit in here and avoid her, especially after everything we shared today.

“Hey Mom,” Noah says after I shut my door. I wave and pretend to look for something in my purse. The longer I stall, the better off I’ll be. But I can’t stand by the car forever and finally take the required steps to get to my front door.

When I look up, Bianca is watching me. She looks so much like Liam, with her dark hair and matching eyes. It makes me wonder if she got her looks from her mom or dad.

“Hello, Josie.”

“Hi, Bianca. I hope Noah isn’t being too hard on you.”

“Oh no, he’s just fine. He’s teaching me how to throw a spiral.”

“She’s not very good yet,” he chimes in. Instead of saying something snobbish, she smiles. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile. Her whole face lights up, making her eyes sparkle.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” I blurt out the question before I know what I’m saying. Either Noah or Bianca let out a little gasp, I can’t be sure whom, but they’re obviously just as shocked as I am that I asked.

“I’d love to, Josie. Thank you.”

“Come on, Grandma, you can sit next to me.”

This is the first time I’ve heard Noah call her grandma, but she must answer to it. He has his arm out, bent at the elbow, as he escorts her into the house.

I follow them into the house and the aroma of lasagna wafts through the air, causing my stomach to turn. I press my hand against my stomach and hold my breath until the queasiness subsides. Linda is an excellent cook and insists on cooking for us, even though she doesn’t need to. For half a minute I thought she’d head back to LA with Liam, but she stayed. I’m glad. It’s nice to have someone in the house when it’s just me.

“Are you okay, Josie?” Bianca asks.

I nod. “I’m fine,” I tell her, offering no valid excuse as to why my stomach is flipping upside down right now.

“Your home is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” We sit down with Bianca sitting by Noah as he rattles off who knows what. She intently listens and asks questions at the appropriate time. When Linda comes out, I tell her that I’m not very hungry and she offers to make me soup instead, clearly not taking “no” for an answer.

We eat with sporadic conversation. It’s mostly Noah talking but I chime in every now and again. When his plate is clear, he asks to be excused, promising he’ll be right back. There’s an awkward silence filling the room and I know I’m the one who needs to break it.

“This really means a lot to Noah – that you’re here and that you come see him.”

Bianca smiles. She sits up straight and puts her hands in her lap, ever so proper. “He’s very funny and so smart. I’ve been enjoying my time with him.”

“Does Sterling know you’re here?” My tone is sharp and to the point. The last thing I want is that man beating down my door looking for his wife.

Her eyes fall to her lap and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “He does and doesn’t approve. But I need to do this for myself. For far too long I’ve done things his way, and I’ve missed out on so many years with my grandson, not to mention my own son. I’d like to go to Noah’s baseball game, if you think that’d be okay?”

I nod, letting her know that it’s fine. “He’d like that,” I say as I try to keep my voice from breaking.

“Do you love him?”

“Who?” I ask.

“Liam.”

My head moves up and down, telling her yes. “Of course I do. Why would you ask me something like that?” Now my voice cracks and tears threaten to fall. I love him but, in this moment, I’m not sure that I trust him.

“Because when you arrived home you were crying. I know what it’s like to be alone and to miss someone. Those weren’t the tears you were shedding. Your tears were angry.”

“How could you tell?”

“I’ve cried many tears, and the ones that made me look the worst were the angry ones.”

I’m taken aback by what she’s saying, and hate that she’s observant enough to know the difference in my tears. Right now, I’d like to ask her to leave, but Noah’s coming down the stairs and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He needs Bianca in his life and as much as part of me wants to stop their relationship, I won’t do that to him.

I leave them at the table and head into the kitchen with our plates. From a distance I can hear my phone ringing. I hope it’s not Liam because I’m not ready to talk to him. I rush to my phone, not recognizing the number.

Stupidly, I answer. “Hello?”

“Josie Westbury?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“Roger Jones, Editor at Gossip. Can you confirm that Liam Page has filed for divorce?”

I set my phone down and rush into the bathroom, expelling the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Here I am again because of Liam. I try to hold it together because the last thing I want is for Bianca to ask questions.

When I sit back on my heels, she’s handing me a towel. I can’t keep the tears away any longer, nor can I keep up this stupid façade that I trust my husband.

“I’m sorry; you don’t need to see this.” I get up and head to the sink, rinsing my mouth and splashing water on my face. From behind me, the toilet flushes, causing another wave of tears. I don’t trust Bianca, and yet I’m vulnerable.

She sets my phone down on the counter and steps through the doorway. “One thing I learned from growing up in the world you’re living in is that you can’t trust everything you hear or see. Call him, Josie.” The door shuts, locking me in this small space with my demons.