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At two a.m., bless her sweet soul, Nancy pushed open the door to Hot Shots. A few bleary-eyed stragglers sat in the all-night coffee shop, some wasted, hungover, trying to get sober enough to head home; some binge studying for an exam or test tomorrow.
Kennedy sat in the corner, crying over her hot chocolate.
“Date didn’t go well, I take it?”
“More like I got scared and ran,” Kennedy said through her sniffles. “We’re having a rough go of even starting this relationship. Maybe it’s too much for either of us to endure. I mean, it’s not like I have an ordinary past hanging over my head. No, not me, I have royal intrigue and scandal. Alcoholism and addiction. And he has his own issues.” She made a sour face.
“Tell me more,” Nancy said, as she settled opposite Kennedy. She placed her hands on top of Kennedy’s, offering warmth and open-hearted support.
“We were having a great time. I did as you suggested, earlier, and let Dante in. I told him where I went and he seemed fine with it. Supportive, even. After that, things proceeded splendidly. Fantastically. Amazingly well.” She let out a sigh. “And then I ran into one of his friends in the bathroom who spilled the beans on this other friend doing a deep background check on me at Dante’s request.”
She shook her head and reached for another napkin to dab at her eyes. “And then, to top it off, when I confronted him, he stood next to the Marquise de Manhattan and she had her hands all over him. And all these cameras went off which means the whole thing will be warped and skewed in the gossip rags.” She sighed. “I thought I left all that behind in Africa. Dating a royal prince had its share of media exposure.”
Nancy sat silently, stroking her hands, saying nothing.
“I’ll never be good enough for the likes of Mosi and Dante. Why do I even bother?” She continued to boo-hoo, acutely aware Nancy said nothing. “What?” she said, defensively.
Nancy made a face. “Simply sitting here, listening.”
“I’m feeling sorry for myself, aren’t I?”
“Your words, not mine.” Nancy smiled.
“Crap. I am feeling sorry for myself. And I keep running from Dante. What an idiot.”
“He might be kicking himself, too. Maybe he was afraid. People use the Internet all the time to check on one another. Anyone can access information about another person in this day and age. What’s his story?”
“His girlfriend died of a drug overdose,” Kennedy said glumly.
Nancy tsked. “I’d be scared, too, honey. Best to ask him or give him a chance to clear himself. Don’t jump to conclusions. Sometimes the most obvious explanation is far from the truth.”
“I’m such an idiot,” Kennedy lamented.
“That doesn’t help. You made a mistake. Nothing more. Own it, take responsibility for your actions and move on.”
Kennedy blew out her breath. “Who knew dating could be so difficult?”
“You did land a big fish,” Nancy said, laughing.
“I did. Let’s hope Dante’s still on the dock flopping about.”
After conversing for a while, she finished her hot chocolate and pulled out her cellphone, thumbing through Dante’s messages. The last couple didn’t make sense, making her think he’d been drinking. Where are you?
Nifraps.
??? She typed.
Bar, he responded.
Are you okay? She typed. She waited.
Dfin ok, he answered, several seconds later.
I’m sorry.
Then I’m ok.
Have you been drinking? She asked. No response, but she felt fairly certain she knew the answer. Dante? How much have you been drinking? No response. I’m coming to drive you home. Don’t want you dying or getting a DUI on my account. She waited for his response, vulnerable, feeling stupid for wanting to take care of him. She glanced at Nancy. “Do you think it was a mistake to offer to drive him home? He drove us to the bar.”
“Do you think he’s inebriated?”
“If his last few texts are any indication.”
“Then, no, not a mistake. Let’s see if Dante mans up and accepts your offer.”
Kennedy waited. And waited. And waited some more. “Well, that answers that. I’d best get home,” she said to Nancy when her phone chimed.
Thnk u, she read. I’ll wat 4 u. She smiled, musing. Wat 4 me? Wat, exactly will you do?
A half hour later, she found Dante slumped over the same table in the back, between Gia and Mia. Heat and Keys were nowhere to be found, while Zander, Trisha, and Kent were huddled together at the bar, laughing and talking.
“I’m so sorry,” Mia blurted. “I didn’t know it was a secret.”
“Don’t worry about it. I only want to get Dante home safely at the moment.”
“He’s been a total mess,” Gia said. “He tried to play it all ‘I’m cool, I’m still the life of the party,’ but he knew he fucked up with you. He really likes you, Kennedy. I’ve never seen him so smitten with someone, ever. I’ve known this guy for years. We met in his Brooklyn street rat days when we were both working the circuit, trying to get noticed.”
Kennedy nodded, wondering how she’d get Dante to his car, where his keys were and how she’d drive a Porsche.
“He used to talk about you, back in the day.”
Kennedy’s eyebrows launched skyward. “He did?”
“Yeah. He told me about his first big failure. He said he got with you on graduation night at high school, got to first base, but lost touch with you. He tried calling you.”
“He did?” she repeated.
“Yeah. Your dad refused to give him your whereabouts. Said you’d moved on. Dante seemed heartbroken about it. Wrote all these sappy, stupid love songs.”
Kennedy’s heart clenched. All this time she thought she’d meant nothing to him.
Dante mumbled something as if he were listening.
Gia laughed. “They were weak songs, man.” She shoved his shoulder.
He lifted a wobbly hand to push her away, then gave up and let it drop on the seat, mumbling more incoherent ramblings.
“We’ll get those two wankers to help carry him to the car.” She beckoned to Kent and Zander, but they seemed to ignore her. “Do you know where he lives? Have his address?”
“Yeah.” Kennedy nodded.
Gia shoved her hand in his pants pockets and fished around.
More mumbles came from Dante but nothing anyone could discern.
“The dude is wasted,” Gia said, laughing some more. “See what you do to him?”
Kennedy didn’t know whether to be alarmed or flattered. Being with someone with a substance problem was the last thing she needed, but maybe this was a one-off. “Is he...does he do this often?”
“What? You mean drink himself stupid?” Gia asked. She continued to fish in his pockets. “Ta-da!” she said when she’d retrieved his electronic key and his wallet.
“Yes.”
“No. Don’t worry. He’s usually the mother hen among us, telling us to lay off and cool it. He’s an astute businessman when it comes to the business of being a rock star. Wears the world on his shoulders. Assumes responsibility for things that are none of his business. Being with you...well, he’s already started to lighten up. In a good way, I mean, not this,” she said, waving her hand at his slumped form, bursting into laughter again.
Kennedy’s mind swirled, trying to process everything Gia said, and deal with the situation before her.
Gia handed her the key. “Driving the Porsche is a dream. You’ll never want to drive anything else again. He let me drive it to shut me up once. I whined and whined to have a go in it. Anyway. Once you get to his apartment, drive around to the back garage. This card...” She slid a key from his wallet. “Opens up the garage. There’s a night guard on duty if you have any problems. His spot is number seven seven seven. This card...” She slipped another one out of the wallet. “Opens the door to the elevator. And this card...” She retrieved a third. “Allows access to his penthouse. Hold it in front of the indicator in the elevator.”
“Okay,” said Kennedy. “Garage, elevator, penthouse.” She tapped each of the cards.
“Hopefully, he’ll sober enough, so you don’t have to roll him into the foyer. If you do, tuck a blanket around him, so he doesn’t catch a chill.” Gia continued laughing as if she couldn’t stop. Clearly, she enjoyed this whole moment. “We’ll be in the recording studio tomorrow, he has an interview later in the day, and he has to at least look decent.” She whistled and waved her hand at Zander, Trisha, and Kent, gesturing for them to come close.
When they sauntered to the table, she said, “Help Kennedy get this dude to his car. She’ll drive him home.”
“Hey. Moron.” Gia poked at Dante’s side.
“Quit it,” he muttered.
“Dipshit.” She poked him again. “Your chariot awaits. A beautiful goddess has come to rescue you.”
“Nope. I lost the beautiful goddess.”
Gia lifted one of his eyelids. “She’s right here, you idiot.”
Dante blinked and jerked upright. “Shit. Kennedy. You came back. I’m...I’m...”
“Brilliant, mutt. Mia, get this guy some water. He needs something besides alcohol in his bloodstream.”
“Got it,” Mia said, nodding and turning toward the bar.
Kennedy marveled at Gia’s command of the situation. She felt kind of awkward and out of place, wondering if this is what it was like for all the people who’d helped her before she cleaned up her act, putting up with her belligerence and back-talk. She’d been a bitch of a drunk. Drinking brought out her worst side. Still, if Gia’s words were true, she was in the exact right place she needed to be...with Dante Vega.
Dante continued to blink himself back to the present. “Thank you,” he said. It came out sounding garbled. He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Shit,” he said again. He shook his head as if to convince himself to stop making attempts to speak.
Zander and Kent stood at the ready.
Trisha brought the water and handed it to Dante.
He downed it as if hoping for a miracle recovery. He blinked some more. “I’m...” Whatever followed, came out a garbled mash. He shook his head again.
Kennedy wanted to laugh. “You’re trying so hard, Dante. Give it up and let me and your friends take care of you.”
“Come on, dude. Up and at ‘em,” said Kent.
“I’ve got this. I can walk.”
At least that’s what it sounded like he said. Kennedy was beginning to get the hang of Dante drunk speak. “I know you do. But can you walk safely?”
“Arm around my shoulders, man,” Kent commanded.
Dante pushed him away, took a step and stumbled, lurching into Zander.
“We’ve got you, buddy. Relax. Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been here a time or two.”
They finally got him outside, retrieved the car from the valet, and practically carried Dante to the Porsche.
“I’ll take care of the valet,” Gia said.
Noticing the way Gia eyed the handsome young male, Kennedy had no doubt she would take care of him in more ways than one. As a snack, she thought, remembering Dante’s commentary.
Dante slumped in the passenger seat. He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. “Thank you, baby. Thank you for coming back for me.”
Kennedy’s heart lurched. Not only did he speak clearly, but he also conveyed his fears of her not returning. “How could I not come back? It’s you we’re talking about, not some guy on the cover of a magazine.”
He lifted his head to look at her, nearly flat-lining her with the expression of longing and gratitude in his eyes. She got the car started, waved to the crew who stood at the edge of the sidewalk, watching her, and navigated the streets of the city to take her lover home.
