Текст книги "Cardinal"

Автор книги: Sara Mack

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

“Latson knows, right?  You told him?”

“In every message I’ve left.”

I sigh. I hate that he won’t talk to me. This is exactly like the time he overreacted at the hospital. It makes my heart hurt.

“I’ll let you know if he calls,” Dean says.

“Okay.”

I roll over on my side and try to settle into my bunk. It seems Beau has us traveling at warp speed to Florida; I can feel it in the shimmy of the bus. I contemplate waking Ariel to ask her if Latson acted this way when they were together, but I know she hasn’t been feeling well and she needs her sleep. There’s nothing left for me to do, other than close my eyes. Instead, I find myself staring at Oliver’s drawing. When did things get so complicated?

I feel a tap on my shoulder. “You up?”

I roll over and see Ariel. “Yeah. I thought you were sleeping.”

She shakes her head. “My mind is racing.”

“Same here.”

“Move over,” she says and nudges me.

I scoot to the side as Ariel sits down. She swings her legs up beside mine and lies back, so we’re lying side by side. She pulls the bunk curtain closed. “You’d think they’d make these beds bigger,” she says. “Rock stars get laid on their busses all the time.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“Maybe.”

I elbow her and she giggles.

We’re quiet for a few moments before she says, “Things are stupid right now, aren’t they?”

I nod in agreement.

“I’m knocked up and you’re fighting with Gunnar. Neither should be happening.”

“Amen, sister.”

We stare at the ceiling. Although we’re both dealing with issues, hers more life-altering than mine, it’s nice to know I’m not alone. I’m sure she feels the same way.

“You know,” she breaks the silence, “true artists would take their feelings and spill them into song.”

I turn my head. “Like Taylor Swift?”

“Exactly.”

I guess I’m not a true artist. “I don’t feel like writing. All I want is a phone call.”

“I hear you.” She sighs. “All I want is to stop puking up everything I eat.”

“You’re having a girl,” I muse. “My mom said I was the worst pregnancy out of four. I have three older brothers.”

“You think?  I like the idea of having a girl. I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy.”

“I think you’d figure it out. Moms are resourceful like that.”

Ariel closes her eyes. “I still can’t wrap my mind around the idea. I mean, I can’t deny what my body is telling me, but it’s still surreal.” She looks at me. “How will I make it through nine months of this?  How will I push out a baby?  How?”

“With the help of powerful drugs.”

She rolls her eyes and sets her hand on her belly. “That doesn’t make me feel better for subjecting an innocent child to my poor parenting. I’m not sure I should have this baby.”

“Stop,” I chastise her. “The stork has never once delivered a baby and a handbook. If you decide to raise the little peanut, you’ll do just fine. I know it.”

“You think?” Ariel’s expression softens. “It’s hard to be logical when I’m so emotional.”

“I know you’ll do what’s right, whatever you decide.”

She sighs. “Thank you. That makes me feel better.”

I frown. “I wish Latson felt better.”

Ariel extends her hand to me, and I take it. She squeezes my fingers. “He’ll call.”

“Unless he doesn’t.” I can’t help but imagine something awful, like him taking PTA mom Natalie up on her carpool offer. I shudder.

“He’ll realize he overreacted.” Ariel gives me an encouraging smile.

“I hope you’re right,” I say.

When we arrive in Tampa, Ariel heads to her doctor appointment in a rented Mercedes, and I head up to my room without Roxanne. My body feels drained when it shouldn’t; I just spent the last nine hours on a bus. I need to pull myself together and focus on something other than Latson. We have a show tonight, and I need to concentrate.

When I get to my room, I open the door and fumble my way through with my suitcase, guitar, and bag. My exhausted eyes sweep the space like they always do and land on the desk opposite the two queen beds. A huge grin break across my face and relief instantly floods my body. I drop everything I’m carrying and skip over to a huge vase of roses sitting there. I bury my nose in the petals and inhale; there must be two dozen flowers here. Each one is a rich, velvety red and has a faux diamond set in the center. Eagerly, I find the card with my name on it and pry it open, excited and relieved to read Latson’s words.

As quickly as the high came, the low crushes me. The flowers aren’t from him.

My apologies for NOLA

Yours, Caleb

Chapter Twenty Five

“I really think we should add “Fairytale” between “The Short Life” and “Over-Exposed”. It would be a natural pace progression.”

Dean tries to talk me into performing solo as the four of us enter our dressing room. We just finished opening at the Tampa Bay Times Forum.

“It would also give my voice a break.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, and I shove his arm. “Pace progression my ass. You’re just being lazy.”

Singing solo doesn’t bother me so much anymore; it’s the attention I might get from Caleb. I don’t want to give him any reason to talk to me, much less send flowers. Speaking of, I got rid of the roses by leaving them on an empty table in the hotel lobby. I didn’t want them, and I definitely didn’t want Roxanne to question me.

Stepping in front of the mirror, I pull out the bobby pins Mona buried in my hair. Instinct tells me to check my phone to see if Latson called, but I force myself to wait. I really don’t want another dose of disappointment. In fact, I’d rather check it when I’m alone so I can mope in private. I don’t know how long he plans to drag out the silent treatment, but I think it’s been long enough.

“Hey, guys. Do you have a minute?”

I turn around to see Mason enter our dressing room. He looks stressed. “Is Ariel okay?”

He nods. “Everything’s on schedule tonight.” He glances over his shoulder, then shuts the door behind him. “I need to talk to you all about the rest of the tour.”

His words grab Dean’s attention. “What about it?”

Mason turns toward the guys. “Ariel’s pregnant.”

Paul’s mouth drops open. “No shit.”

“Yes, shit.” Mason rubs his eyes. “I met her at the doctor this morning. She’s six weeks along.”

Drew blows out a heavy breath and Dean crosses his arms. “So, what does that mean?”

Mason’s phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket to silence it. “It means she’s made a few decisions. Number one, after seeing her ultrasound, she’s decided to have the baby.”

I smile. I had a feeling she would.

“The tour’s fucked.” Paul throws up his hands. “Unbelievable.”

“Not so fast.” Mason meets his eyes. “We’ll have to cut some dates, but we’ll finish the States. The international leg will have to be canceled.”

I can feel Dean relax from feet away. “Are you sure?” I ask. “Ariel’s felt awful.”

Mason nods. “Her doctor gave her the okay to perform as long as she’s feeling up to it. I’m going to look at the remaining cities tonight, get with the label, and decide what to cut. My guess is that we’ll avoid multiple stays in one city.”

Dean rubs his chin in thought. “How are you going to justify the cancellations?  Are you going to make something up?”

“No. Ariel is going to announce the baby. She’ll tweet the news tomorrow.” Mason steps toward the door and opens it with a sigh. “She doesn’t want to lie to her fans, or let them down. I’m headed to find Roxanne and break the news. I’ll send you the revised schedule as soon as I have it.”

When he’s gone, all four of us look at one another. “I wonder who the father is,” Paul muses, then winks. “I know it’s not me.”

I shake my head and start to pack my things. I won’t be sharing that information.

Dean plops down in a chair next to me, so I ask, “Do you feel better about the tour now?”

“I’m a little disappointed things will be cut short.” He gives me a small smile, and I give him one in return. “You should let Gunnar know,” he adds. “With this news, you might get a response.”

Since I’ll be coming back earlier than expected, maybe I will.

I pull out my phone and try to hide my frown when I see Latson hasn’t tried to contact me. I type out a message:  I know you’re not talking to me, but Ariel has decided to have the baby. Some tour dates will be canceled. I’ll be back before November.

I want to add “If you want me back”, but I’m too afraid of his answer.

~~~~

When I get to the hotel, I shower and put on Latson’s t-shirt. It still smells like him, but not nearly as strong. I silently hope it’s not a metaphor for our relationship; that it’s not slowly fading away, too.

As I curl up in bed, the thought of losing him starts to take root in my mind. It’s the last thing I want. I consider calling him again, since Roxanne is still with Mason going over the schedule, but I don’t want to come across as hyper or clingy. I just want him to talk to me.

A knock on the door stops my thoughts. Confused, I walk over to see if Roxanne forgot her key. When I look through the peephole, I blink a couple times to make sure what I’m seeing is real. My pulse starts to race, and I can’t get the door open fast enough.

“You’re here.” The words rush out of me.

In less than a second, I’m in Latson’s arms. He holds me against him and I melt into his chest, inhaling his scent and feeling his heartbeat. He walks forward, pressing me back, until he shuts the door behind us. Without words, his mouth finds mine; his kiss is soft, yet urgent and deep. I return it with everything I have and run my hands up to his shoulders, feeling him relax beneath my touch. We stand in the middle of the room, connected, for countless minutes until he finally pulls away. His eyes meet mine for the first time, and I notice red discolors the whites. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in days.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he says.

I run my thumb over his cheek, across the purplish tint beneath his eye. “You were mad. I get it.”

“I was at first, but …”  He shakes his head. “Something else came up.”

His tone tells me something bad has happened. Immediately my thoughts jump to Oliver. “Is O all right?  Where is he?”

“He’s fine. Believe it or not, he’s with my dad.” Latson pulls me closer. “I’m a little freaked out about it.”

My expression falls. “What do you mean he’s with your dad?  Did something happen with custody?”

“No.” Latson pauses. “My mom passed away this morning.”

Oh no. My eyes search his face. “Was she ill?”

“She wandered away from her room,” he says. “She fell and hit her head.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tight.

“I’ve been at the hospital the past few days. At first it seemed things would be okay, but she kept getting worse. The bleeding inside her head wouldn’t stop.”

My voice is muffled against his chest. “I’m so sorry. Does Dean know?”

“I just left his room. I feel like shit; I should have called him sooner. Everything happened so fast. One minute she was going to be fine, and the next she wasn’t. Before I knew it, I was taking Oliver to say goodbye.”

I look up at him. “How is he?”

“He cried, but not much. He held her hand and told her he loved her.”

My heart starts to ache at the image.

“Then my dad distracted him with swimming and he was a seven-year-old again.”

“Swimming?”

“My parents have a pool. My dad asked to spend some time with O.”

Leaning back, I study the man in front of me. This is a huge step for him. “I can’t believe you let him go.”

“It’s only until tomorrow night.” Latson rests his forehead against mine. “When my father asked to watch Oliver, my first reaction was to take him and run. But O begged, and I thought of you.”

“Me?”

“This is the first time my father has shown any interest in his grandson.” Latson meets my eyes. “If you had been there, I know you would have told me to let them spend time together. You would have said it’s the right thing to do.”

I give him a gentle kiss. “You know me so well.”

He almost smiles. “I also knew I needed to see you. I couldn’t stay at my place alone. Not tonight. Not with Oliver where he is and the way I left things with you. The silence would be deafening.”

“About that –” I start.

“Forget it,” he says.

“No. I want to explain.” I set my hands against his chest. “Caleb ambushed me. He said it was partly your fault Sacred Sin got dropped. I tried to leave and he stole my phone to make me stay. Dean and Drew came to my rescue, but by then you’d heard –”

“It doesn’t matter.” He puts two fingers beneath my chin and lifts my gaze. “Whose shirt are you wearing?”

“Yours.”

“Who gets to kiss you?”

“You do.”

“Who’s missed you more than anything?”

I circle his wrist and move his hand, so I can lean in and hug him again. “You.”

As I say that word, all the stress from the past few days melts away. I feel better, but a new hurt starts to grow. One for Latson and what he’s going through.

“Come on,” I say and lead him toward the bed. I prop the puffy pillows against the headboard as he takes off his shoes. It’s just now that I notice he doesn’t have a bag or a suitcase with him. “Did you bring any clothes?”

“I left my backpack with Dean,” he says. “I’m only here for the night.”

I wish he didn’t have to leave so soon, but I know Oliver is weighing on his mind. Plus, arrangements need to be made for his mother. I crawl to the center of the bed and he joins me fully dressed. We scoot together, and I end up tucked against his side. He wraps his arm around my back, and I thread my legs through his.

“I don’t think you know how much you calm me,” he says.

I’m sure things haven’t been easy. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Oliver. Your mom. Whatever you want.”

He’s quiet. My fingers find their way to his side and trace patterns over his shirt.

“You know,” Latson says, “I actually thought she was getting better.”

My tracing stops. “Before she fell?”

“After.” His arm tightens around my waist. “For about five minutes my mom was completely lucid. She asked about Oliver and his last day of school. She asked about the bar and Dean. I thought it was impossible for her to remember anything, but she was her old self. Her personality came back.”

I give him a tentative smile. “Then what happened?”

“My dad came into the room. She called him by name and he dropped his coffee. She laughed and called him a klutz. I haven’t heard that laugh in years.” He sighs and runs his palm over his tired eyes. “A few seconds later she asked where Audrey was. As fast as she appeared, she slipped away again. The fall didn’t help her disease. It couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“It was stupid to think she was recovering. No one recovers from dementia.”

I lift my head and kiss the corner of his mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with having hope.”

His eyes meet mine. “I wish you could have met her. The real her, not the shell.”

“Me, too.” We study one another, until I say, “Although, in a way, I have met her. Part of her is in you.”

Latson scowls. “You’re wrong. She was a good person. I’m not –”

“Stop.” I cut him off. “You’re good.”

He gets sarcastic. “Does a good person use his mother’s illness against his parents to gain custody of his nephew?”

My mouth falls open. “What?”

“Does a good person fight with his drug addicted sister when he knows she will use any excuse to get high?”

I shake my head to sort out what he’s saying.

“That’s what I thought.” Latson lets his head fall back against the headboard. “I’m not my mother.”

No. “Hang on.” I sit up and kneel beside him. “You couldn’t love your nephew more if he was your own child. You give him everything. There was no choice but for you to take him. Your mother was sick and your dad works a million hours. He would’ve ended up with a nanny.”

“Mrs. Gibson is a nanny.”

I groan and let my head fall back in exasperation. How can he not see all the good he’s done?  “As far as Audrey goes, you fought with your sister. What brother doesn’t fight with his sister?  You had no idea she was going to OD. Knowing you the way I do, you were probably arguing with her to stop her from using. Am I right?”

The muscles in Latson’s neck tense. “I confronted her the night she died.”

“And?”

“Levi was in her suite. I knew there were only two things they could be doing: lines or fucking. Neither of which Oliver needed to see.”

My eyes grow wide. Hopefully he showed up in time. “You were fighting with her because you cared about her. Not to provoke her.”

Latson sets his jaw. “I knew she was unstable.”

“Your heart was in the right place.”

“I stormed out.”

“You were pissed.”

“If I had stayed she might still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“My father thought so. He said I killed her.”

Defeated, I let my shoulders sag. “I don’t understand how your father could accuse you of anything.”

Seconds pass before Latson takes a deep breath and reaches for me. “You know we never saw eye to eye on music,” he says as I settle into his side. “My dad was angry about a lot of things, and when he found out that I left Audrey after an argument, he said some really shitty stuff to get to me. When I got custody of Oliver, I cut him off.”

“Until now,” I say against his chest.

“No. Not until now. Until you.”

I look up at him, confused.

“My dad pulled me aside when you were admitted to the hospital.” He pushes my hair back from my forehead. “He tried to apologize and blame grief for his actions. I ignored him. I told him it was two years too late, asked him to take care of you, and left.”

I can tell his father’s words made an impact. “But you still listened.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what he said.”

Propping myself on my elbow, I lean forward and kiss him. “I’m glad.” I hope things work out. If not for him, then for O.

I curve my body against his and, after minutes of silence, I start to fall asleep. Latson is tired too, and that’s okay. His presence alone is comforting. I feel warm and safe surrounded by him, and that thought makes me realize just how hard I’ve fallen for this man. We don’t have to do anything but be together, and I feel sated. Yes, he has some baggage and I hate the sad circumstances that brought him here tonight, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make him feel better. I once told him his hurts are mine. I still believe that.

“Jen?”

I look up at him. “Hmmm?”

“Do you think you could come to the funeral?  I’d really like you to be there.”

“Of course. I’ll talk to Roxanne about it tomorrow. Whatever you need.”

Latson’s eyes lock with mine before he cradles the side of my face. He leans in slowly and gives me a tender kiss. “You,” he says. “I’m going to need you.”

~~~~

The following week, I pack a small bag to take to Chicago. The funeral is tomorrow, and I’ll be staying with Latson for two nights. Dean flew out ahead of me, to spend time with the family and attend his foster mother’s wake. The Union won’t be opening for Ariel in Atlanta because of our absence, but Dean and I will fly back together to pick up the tour in Nashville.

Opening the closet, I pull out the black dress Ariel helped me find. When I told her what had happened, she volunteered to go shopping with me for something appropriate. Being out in public with Ariel was a trip. She was in disguise, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, but a few people still recognized her. Before we left the hotel, she told me she wanted to visit a few baby stores, but we never made it. Luckily the madness started after we found what I was looking for.

I hang the dress up in the bathroom, so I can remove any wrinkles with the steam from a hot shower. I start to get undressed when someone starts pounding on the door like the hotel’s on fire. I jump at the sound and race to open it.

You have got to be joking.

“I just wanted to let you know I’m back.” Heidi crosses her arms and a shoots me a superior look. “I talked to Caleb.”

My eyes narrow. I thought I ran the chance of running into her in Chicago, not Atlanta. My tone is acerbic. “I don’t even want to think about what you did to get into his good graces.”

I start to shut the door, but she slams her hand against the wood to stop me. “We’re having a party tonight to celebrate.”

“And?”

“You’re not invited.”

Does she think that hurts my feelings?  I stare at her stupefied. “I’ll be sure to write that in my diary later.” I slam the door. Apparently, she feels vindicated. Fine. Whatever. Leave me alone.

When I get out of the shower, Roxanne is already tucked in bed, her face illuminated by her Kindle. I no more than tell her who’s back when I understand the reason Heidi brought up the party.

It’s happening in the room next to ours.

Loud music, laughter, and later, moans, filter into our room throughout the night. It’s impossible to sleep, no matter how hard we try. When Heidi starts to scream Caleb’s name, I’m fully aware of what she did – or will do – to stay on this tour. It’s pathetic.

“That’s it!”  Roxanne jumps out of bed and rips the handset off the phone. “I’m calling the front desk!”

Like it will make a difference, I think. Not with Caleb involved. He’ll probably toss some extra record label cash at the manager and continue his sexcapades. I bury my head beneath the pillows as Heidi starts up again. Good God, she has to be faking by now.

As predicted, the complaint to the front desk yields zero results. It’s three a.m. and I have to get up in two hours. I’m dead tired and pissed as hell. It’s almost as if they’re doing this on purpose. I throw my blankets off and march to the door.

“Where are you going?” Roxanne sits up straight.

“To shut them up,” I snap.

I pound on their door like Heidi did earlier. It takes a few times before the noise stops. Satisfied, I start to walk away when the door opens. Caleb stands there, half-naked, holding a sheet around his waist.

“Would you two keep it down?” I hiss. “People are trying to sleep!”

“Jen.” He looks me over. “I didn’t know you were next door.”

“Does it matter?  Just shut the hell up!”  I start to walk away.

“Don’t leave.”

Against my better judgment, I turn around. “Did you get my flowers?” he asks.

He wants to discuss this now?  I groan. “Yes. I gave them away. I don’t want anything from you, Caleb.”

Suddenly, Heidi appears behind him and shrieks, “You sent her flowers?”

“As an apology,” he says.

She starts to pummel him with her fists. “No!  No no no no!”  He tries to block her. “She can’t have you, too!”

“Calm down. Christ.” Caleb moves and tries to ward her off. “What is wrong with you?”

I hear the distinct sound of a door open across the hall. Fantastic, I think. We’re waking up the whole floor. “Guys!”  I try to whisper-yell. “Knock it off!”

“You bastard!”  Heidi continues to wail on Caleb’s chest, her red hair a tangled mess. “How could you?”

“Nothing’s going on!”

He lets go of his sheet to catch Heidi’s flying fists, and it falls to floor. Oh, Jesus. I slam my eyes shut, but not before getting a full view of Caleb’s naked ass. Their struggle stops and I hear, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me, asshole!”

A door slams and I open one eye. Caleb has been left in the hallway sans bed sheet. He faces the door, sets his hands on either side of the frame, and hangs his head. I can’t help but notice that’s not the only thing hanging.

My eyes find the ceiling and I sigh. “Would you like some help?”

He turns and faces me, covering himself with both hands. “Yes, please.”

We look at each other, and I try not to laugh. This is ridiculous. We’re standing a few feet apart and he’s totally naked. I’m wearing nothing but Latson’s t-shirt and my underwear.

“Come on.” I turn to walk the few steps back to my room. No one deserves to be Heidi’s victim, although he did bring it on himself by getting involved with her.

When I open the door, Roxanne sits up in bed. “What happened?”

“I stopped the sex.”

Caleb follows me into the room. “Hi.”

Roxanne’s eyes bug out of her head. “So you brought him over here for more?”

I shoot her an “oh, please” look. I open the closet, find an extra blanket, and toss it at Caleb.

“Thanks.” He catches it with one hand against his leg. “Can I use your phone?”

After he calls the front desk and apologizes to us, he leaves to meet someone with another key. I fall back into bed and close my eyes. Apparently he and Heidi have separate rooms, which I’m grateful for. I don’t want to hear arguing or, god forbid, make up sex. I’ve seen Caleb in all his glory; I don’t need any more to add to the visual.  All I want to do is get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be hard enough; attending a funeral is always sad. I want to be as alert as I can for Latson, and I can’t wait to hug O.

Unfortunately, when my alarm sounds, it’s way too soon. I’ve never been a morning person, but this feels especially torturous.

Forcing myself out of bed, I get dressed and catch a cab to the airport. When I make it to my gate, I take a seat and look up to watch some news channel playing on the TV. It’s not long before my eyelids start to droop and I close them for a few minutes. Thankfully Pete is picking me up when I land and taking me to his apartment before the service. I hope he doesn’t mind if I nap on the way.

“Excuse me?  Miss?”

Someone nudges my shoulder. When I open my eyes, I’m face to face with a kind-looking elderly woman.

“Yes?” I say, my voice scratchy.

“You’ve been sleeping for quite some time,” she says. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss your flight.”

“Thank you.” I smile. “But my plane doesn’t leave until eight a.m.”

Her face falls. “Oh, honey. It’s after nine.”

It can’t be. My eyes dart to the monitor behind the ticket desk. Bold white letters advertise the time and the temperature, along with the flight number and location. Instantly, my stomach knots. I’m not going to Topeka, Kansas. Panic starts to set in.

I missed my flight.