“I don’t believe this,” I bitched. “My Valentino boots are actually sticking to the floor. That’s how gross this place is.”
Lizzy just smiled. “Told you to dress casual.”
“I am.”
The smile widened.
“Jeans and a tee is casual.”
“A tee? It’s velvet, Martha.” She held a bottle of beer up to her lips, taking a sip. “I said we were going to a dive bar. You have only yourself to blame for the fashion faux pas.”
“But velvet is in!”
“Would you two quit talking? I’m trying to listen,” said my brother, Ben. The big hairy idiot was slouched back in his chair, bopping his head in time to the music.
Lizzy shuffled closer all conspiratorial-like. “I know why you’re all dressed up.”
I said nothing. There was nothing to be said.
Next her gaze went to the man standing at the end of the bar across from us. No, no, I would not turn my head. I would not fall prey to her bullshit. After all, I’d managed to successfully avoid him for the forty-eight or so hours since my not so triumphant surprise return to the West Coast. Even with us both being in the same house. A very big sprawling house, but still.
On the other hand, it should probably be mentioned that he looked awfully good tonight in jeans and a white T-shirt with a leather jacket. Samuel Rhodes, otherwise known as Sam. Not a pretty man with his harsh features and bull-like neck, but something about him appealed to me. As always, his head was shaved and his body was built and my idiot fingers itched to explore.
Okay. So I guess at some point I must have turned my head. And shit, he caught me looking.
The corner of his lips rose just a little, just enough to mess with me, before he returned to doing his job by casually surveying the packed room. My heart did not speed up due to anything done by him. Clearly, I hadn’t totally caught my breath from when we’d walked in half an hour ago or something. That was all. Interesting to note, he did none of the checking me out typical of a heterosexual male who might have been into me. In fact, he didn’t really give me any signals at all. Ever.
What did the odd almost smile mean? Not a hell of a lot. It wasn’t like he ran around all of the time anyway. Sam tended to be kind of scary as per the job description. No, Lizzy had to be wrong, the man did not have a thing for me. A small amount of chemistry and weirdness didn’t amount to a whole hell of a lot. Not if he wasn’t willing to act on it. Because God knows I wasn’t about to, not with my convoluted romantic history.
“Ooh, busted,” said Lizzy. “The bodyguard caught you looking.”
“Shut it.” I inched my chin up a bit, trying not to frown because frowning gave you lines. “Sam and I have known each other for years and nothing has ever happened. You’re completely wrong about this.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, there’s nothing between us.”
“So that’s why you were staring at him?”
I chose not to answer that. “And you know he prefers to be called executive protection officer instead of bodyguard.”
At this, Lizzy burst out giggling, a malicious glee in her eyes. No wonder I liked my sister-in-law these days.
Ben shot us both an irritated glance. We both ignored it.
Of course, I’d known Sam would probably be here. Rock stars going out in public could be a delicate thing. People had a tendency to get overexcited. And while one person wanting an autograph wasn’t a problem, twenty or thirty of them suddenly swarming definitely could be. Having once been part of the entourage, I’d seen it happen to Ben and his fellow Stage Dive band members enough times to be wary. And you couldn’t get by with ordinary security. Rock stars needed protection from their over-zealous fans, but on the other hand they didn’t want the fans roughed up or hurt in any way. It required a delicate balance: control, experience, and a whole gamut of scary physical skills. Hence Sam.
Still, Portland seemed generally less crazy than the good old days back in LA. All of the guys seemed calmer and more settled away from the constant craziness of the party scene. Not to mention the effect of all of the wives/partners and various offspring. The biggest rock band in the world had officially been domesticated.
It was kind of cute. Or sad. I don’t know.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stir you,” she lied. “What do you think of your brother’s new musical bromance?”
On the small stage set up in the corner of the room, a young man wailed his heart out while playing an acoustic guitar. Much angst about a girl who only called him after midnight. Trust a rockster to turn a simple booty call into a heartbreaking ballad. The song was damn good though. He had talent. If only I hadn’t had my fill of the type when I was younger. The kid looked to be in his early to mid-twenties. Lanky with lots of tattoos. Your typical rock ’n roll Prince Charming. Gag. These days my type ran more toward…actually, what I needed or wanted in a male was a total mystery.
And my gaze did not stray back to Sam. That did not happen.
“He’s not bad,” I said, staying on topic. “And his stage presence is good, which is where the money is nowadays. So there’s that, at least.”
“Not bad?” Ben scoffed. “He’s fucking brilliant.”
With a smile, Lizzy held up her hands, making a heart shape out of her fingers.
“I saw that,” grunted her husband.
“Adam is the new musical genius.” She held her beer up to her lips again, downing a mouthful. “He’s moving into our pool house because his cruel and vicious girlfriend kicked him out for being more into music than spending time with her. He’s been sleeping on friends’ couches ever since, poor boy.”
I shook my head mockingly. “Women.”
“We ruin everything, right? What is even wrong with us?”
“Where to begin…we could be here for a while…”
Ben bit back a smile. “Go easy. He’s young, be plenty of time for him to date and shit later.”
“And shit,” repeated Lizzy. “The pure romance of it hurts my soul.”
“I’ll give you romance.”
On account of his size, my brother could just lift his wife out of her chair and deposit her on his lap. His hands went into her hair and their mouths met, the man kissing the life out of her. God, the amount of tongue going on and in public too. Married people. Couples in general. I could really do without having to see this sort of thing. Only when I turned away, Sam was watching me with what might almost be interest. What did the look in his eyes mean? I wish I knew. Something on the cell phone in his hand distracted him and our brief staring competition ended.
Up on stage, Adam the tortured musical genius finished his song and the room broke out into applause, whistling, hooting, and hollering. He certainly had the audience in the palm of his hand. With the right guidance, he’d go far.
Finally, much saliva later, my brother and sister-in-law came up for air. Nice to see their marriage was going strong. I’d been a disbeliever, but it was actually good to be proven wrong. They were both still stupidly romantic and happy. Must be nice for some.
“They love him,” I said.
Ben nodded. “Adrian’s interested in signing him.”
“Shit human. Great manager.”
“We don’t use him for his winning personality.”
“True enough.” I nodded. “You’re letting this guy move in with you? Isn’t that a bit risky? What do you actually know about him?”
“Sam’s checked him out. It’s fine. And it’s not like the place isn’t big enough.”
“True.”
Music filled the room once more, the strumming of guitar strings and distant thump of the guy’s foot hitting the floor. It was when Adam opened his mouth that the magic really happened, though. The boy could sing.
“Hey,” said another voice…one I knew far too damn well. David Ferris, lead guitarist, head song-writer, and my ex, slipped into the seat Lizzy had so recently vacated beside me. Like the one on stage, he was long and lean. Beautiful in his own way. We kind of froze at the same time, exchanging pained looks. So much messy ugly history between us. Young love gone wrong with cheating involved. My fault, not his. I liked to think that since then I’d lived, learned, and grown, etcetera, given it all happened a decade ago. But mostly, I’d just lived. In particular, I’d lived by never letting myself come even close to falling in love again. Love and I clearly didn’t mix if it made me lose my mind and do dumb things. Maybe that counts as learning. Two out of three ain’t bad.
“Martha,” he said.
“Hi, David.” My smile felt so brittle it almost hurt. “How are you?”
“Good. You?”
I just nodded.
Pleasantries exchanged, he shifted the chair back a bit from me and focused on my brother. “Benny, this the one you wanted me to hear? He’s good.”
“Yeah, was talking to him earlier. I’m going to produce his album, get him started.”
“Cool.”
“Got the equipment there, figure we might as well use it,” said my brother. “Keep busy while you take some down time and work on the next album.”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
Lizzy gave me something between a worried/sorry type look. God, I so didn’t need that. David and I had been finished a long, long time ago. While my heart no longer broke at the thought of him, the sight of him wasn’t exactly welcome. I mean, why would anyone want to revisit some of their worst moments? Sure there’d been some good ones in there too, but still. At least he hadn’t brought his wife.
And what I needed right now was some space. “The ice has melted in my drink. I’m getting another.”
“Do you want me to come too?” asked Lizzy.
“No, it’s fine.”
Movements stiff and awkward, I made my way through the crowd. Some interested gazes from strangers tracked over me, but I ignored them all. Flirting and what might follow wasn’t high on my list of interests right now. Luckily, the bar wasn’t far. The place might be packed, but the air-con was pumped up so my makeup hadn’t melted off. Thank goodness. I’d been waiting at the bar for all of about point five of a second when Sam appeared alongside me. First hint he didn’t need a drink, he was facing the wrong way, his gaze still on Ben, David, and the crowd. Second hint was when he opened his mouth and said, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He tipped his chin.
I scowled in return. “Do you need something?”
“Nope.”
“Shouldn’t you be working then?”
The sly sort of curve of his mouth happened again. “No need to switch on bitch mode just because someone expresses concern for you, Martha.”
“Who said I ever turned it off?”
His smile broadened almost imperceptibly. I watched it happen out of the corner of my eye.
“Good to see the years spent in New York haven’t changed you any,” he said.
Not too sure about that.
“I was surprised to hear about your return.”
“Spur of the moment type thing.”
He just nodded, eyes now narrowed on me slightly. Like he could read my mind or something. Heaven help me if he could.
Valentino boot tapping against the hideous sticky beer-stained floor, I scowled some more. Something about the man just brought up my hackles. Like I couldn’t afford to have a soft underbelly. Ever. He knew too much. “Sam, this place is gross.”
“It’s not so bad.”
“Don’t you hate having to wait around all the time?”
“I’m not waiting, I’m working,” he said. “It’s a plus he’s good.” He nodded toward the young man on stage.
“Developing an ear for talent, are we?”
“I’ll leave that to Ben and Dave. And you.” He leaned back against the bar. “Still remember that time you picked Jimmy Page playing on that Texas punk album. That blew everyone away. Davie didn’t know whether to be proud of you, or jealous as hell that his girlfriend had picked it before he had.”
I tried to keep my smile from showing. “It was nothing really.”
“Nothing? For the next month Mal thought you had freaky musical powers and he’d shut up awestruck every time you opened your mouth. Anything that can silence that man is something to write home about.”
It was nice of Sam to remember, even if it was just a little thing, long ago. Some time after Stage Dive’s first album. Mal had been getting into Texas punk, of all things. With his usual irrepressible enthusiasm, he’d play air-drums to his mix-tape non-stop on the tour bus. Jimmy’s always hated punk and wasn’t shy about expressing his opinion, which of course just made Mal double down on it. Texas punk became all we ever heard.
Truth be told, the music was actually pretty good. But no way would I admit as much to Mal. Don’t feed the animals. That’s my motto when it comes to dealing with crazy drummers.
But this guitar track just came out of nowhere, somewhere in the middle of the mix tape. Hypnotic and melodic, but woven seamlessly into this frenzied, fast-paced cacophony. Breathtaking. Me being me, I’d said something totally inappropriate, like, “No way some garage band nobody plays guitar like that.” Mal had fetched me the album cover, and sure enough it turned out the lead singer had sent the song to a friend in a band he’d once opened for, who had liked it enough to lay down a guitar track, and sent it back.
The friend was Jimmy Page. A year or two before he formed Led Zeppelin. Ain’t rock ’n roll a crazy thing?
Sam lingered, still smiling at the memory, and shaking his head. I blushed a little, wishing that his esteem for me didn’t matter quite as much. Time to steer the conversation back to safer terrain. “So why do you say he’s good then?”
He shrugged modestly. “You can hear talent. I can read a room. Ninety percent of this job is situational awareness and threat assessment. He’s got them eating out of the palm of his hand. Makes life easy for me.”
That made sense. “But what if Ben and Dave get recognized?”
“A couple of people have spotted them already, but they’ve been content to leave them be. It helps that the kid on stage is keeping the crowd occupied. But if the atmosphere changes, I’ll get them out the back and Ziggy will have the car waiting.”
“Is that what the phone is for?” I asked, nodding at the cell in his hand.
“We’re keeping in contact.”
“You’re all prepared.”
“That’s what I’m paid for.”
“And here I was thinking you were just hired muscle to make them look important.”
“You think Dave needs me to look important?” Ouch. I take a shot at Sam’s work, he twists my words around to target my old injury. Sometimes I wonder how much he sees the world as a perpetual sparring session. Always reading the situation, finding vulnerabilities, turning defense into attack. And always in control.
His gaze slipped to the side. “Bartender’s waiting to take your order.”
“Hmm? Oh.” I turned, getting my thoughts in order. “Vodka and soda.”
Sam clicked his tongue. “Manners.”
“Please,” I simpered. The woman behind the bar just raised a brow, hands already busy making up my order.
“It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to people, Martha.”
“Why risk it?” I handed the woman a ten-dollar bill, the cost of the drink and a healthy tip, thank you very much. Proof I could be nice in the ways that mattered. But Sam had already wandered back to his post by the end of the bar, within closer range of the guys.
Time to go back to the table. Kill me now.
I pasted a smile on my face and pushed my way back through the crowd. If any bastard spilled booze on my boots I’d maim them. It wasn’t like I had the money to replace them these days.
Lizzy still sat in Ben’s lap, leaving my chair next to David free. Yippee. As soon as I sat down, his jaw firmed in a certain way. Fuck. He was going to try to make conversation. I really wished he wouldn’t. “So, Martha, how long are you in town for?”
“Haven’t decided yet.” I took a healthy gulp of vodka. Magical potato juice was definitely required.
“She’s going to help look after Gib while Lizzy starts back at school,” provided Ben. “We hadn’t found a nanny we were happy with yet, so…”
“I’m delighted to be filling in.”
David’s forehead filled with worry lines. “You’re going to look after a two-year-old? You?”
“She’s going to be great!” Lizzy couldn’t have smiled any brighter or less convincingly if she tried. “Excellent bonding time between aunty and nephew.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Anyway, how hard can it be?”
“What do you know about children?” asked David. “I mean, you couldn’t even keep a mouse alive.”
“That wasn’t my fault.” This was the problem with associating with people who’d known you during your childhood. “It got sick.”
“You killed a mouse?” Lizzy’s expression morphed to something much less confident.
Ben scratched at his beard. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“Only reason you remembered to feed it and give it water was because I reminded you every day,” said David, who really needed to fuck off right about now. Not helpful at all. Not that I expected him to be.
“I would have remembered eventually.” A headache was coming on, I could feel it. “I was sixteen. Everyone’s useless when they’re sixteen.”
“So what was your excuse for the following decade then?” Ben snickered at his own genius.
In true sisterly fashion, I thumped him in the arm. Mostly it just hurt my hand, the muscly bastard. Family and exes sucked. Maybe I should just go back to New York. Out of nowhere, a shiver worked its way down my spine. Nope. New York wasn’t an option.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” said my brother, patting me on the head. Like it hadn’t taken me quality time to get the slicked-back ponytail just right. The idiot. “Sorry, Martha. I have confidence you won’t let my child die like you did the poor innocent mouse. May it rest in peace.”
Meanwhile, open alarm filled the child’s mother’s eyes at the jokes.
“Nothing will happen to Gibby, I promise,” I said, grabbing her hand. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Sure. Of course.” And that did not sound convincing. Her giving my brother a worried glance didn’t boost my confidence either. Perhaps this was a bad idea. I was a hell of a long way from Mary Poppins. Even if I did happen to love the kid in question.
“Sweetheart, it’ll be fine.” Ben kissed her on the cheek, tightening his hold. “Seriously, relax. We’re just giving Martha shit. But she’s a mature responsible adult and I’ll be right there in the house if there’s a problem. Sam will be there too. There’ll be plenty of people around to help out if need be.”
“Okay.” This time her smile didn’t seem quite so panicked at least. I wished it hadn’t taken the mention of Sam to ease her mind about my inability to look after her child. But such was life.
Shoulders squared and tits out, I presented my most confident face. “I can do this.”