Lick (Stage Dive, #1)(60)
“Why do you both still wear the earrings if it’s nothing?”
His hand flew to his ear, covering the offending items. “It’s not like that.”
“Why does she still work for you?”
“You said you trusted me,” he repeated.
“Why keep the house in Monterey all these years?”
“No,” he said and then stopped.
I stared at him, incredulous. “No? That’s it? That’s not enough. Was I supposed to just not see all this? Ignore it?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me,” I pleaded. His eyes looked right through me. I might as well not have spoken. My questions went unanswered, same as they ever had. “You can’t do it, can you?”
I took another step back and his face hardened to fury. His hands fisted at his sides. “Don’t you dare f*cking leave me. You promised!”
I didn’t know him at all. I stared at him, transfixed, letting his anger wash over me. It couldn’t hope to pierce the hurt. Not a chance.
“You walk out of here and it’s over. Don’t you f*cking think of coming back.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it. You’ll be nothing to me.”
Behind David, Ben’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Just as well. Even numb had its limits.
“Evelyn!” David snarled.
I slipped off the stupid shoes and went barefoot for my grand exit. Might as well be comfortable. Normally I’d never wear heels like that. There was nothing wrong with normal. I was long overdue for a huge heaping dose of it. I’d wrap myself in normal like it was cotton wool, protecting me from everything. I had the cafe to get back to, school to start thinking about. I had a life waiting.
A door slammed shut behind me. Something thumped against it on the other side. The sound of shouting was muted.
Outside the dressing room door Jimmy and Adrian were still deep in conversation. By which I mean Adrian spoke and Jimmy stared at the ceiling, grinning like a lunatic. I doubted a rocket ship could have reached Jimmy just then, he looked that high.
“Excuse me,” I said, butting in.
Adrian turned and frowned, the flash of bright teeth coming a moment too late. “Evelyn. Honey, I’m just in the middle of something here—”
“I’d like to go back to Portland now.”
“You would? Okay.” He rubbed his hands together. Ah, I’d pleased him. His smile was huge, genuine for once and glaringly bright. Headlights had nothing on him. He’d apparently been holding back previously.
“Sam!” he yelled.
The bodyguard appeared, weaving through the crowd with ease. “Mrs Ferris.”
“Miss Thomas,” Adrian corrected. “Would you mind seeing her safely returned to her home, thanks, Sam?”
The polite professional expression didn’t falter for a second. “Yes, sir. Of course.”
“Excellent.”
Jimmy started laughing, big belly laughs that shook his whole body. Then he started cackling, the noise vaguely reminiscent of the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz. If she’d been on crack or cocaine or whatever Jimmy had been digging into, of course.
These people, they made no sense.
I didn’t belong here. I’d never belonged here.
“This way.” Sam pressed a hand lightly to the small of my back, which was sufficient to get me moving. Time to go home, wake up from the too-good-to-be-true dream that had twisted into this warped nightmare.
The laughter got louder and louder, ringing in my ears, until suddenly it cut off. I turned in time to watch Jimmy slump to the ground, his slick suit a mess. One woman gasped. Another chuckled and rolled her eyes.
“Fuck’s sake,” growled Adrian, kneeling beside the unconscious man. He slapped at his face. “Jimmy. Jimmy!”
More burly bodyguards appeared, crowding around the fallen singer, blocking him from view.
“Not again,” Adrian ranted. “Get the doctor in here. Goddamn it, Jimmy.”
“Mrs Ferris?” asked Sam.
“Is he alright?”
Sam scowled at the scene. “He’s probably just passed out. It’s been happening a lot lately. Shall we go?”
“Get me out of here, Sam. Please.”
*
I was back in Portland before the sun rose. I didn’t cry on the trip. It was as if my brain had diagnosed the emergency and cauterized my emotions. I felt numb, as if Sam could swerve the car into the oncoming traffic and I wouldn’t utter a peep. I was done, frozen solid. We went via the mansion so Sam could collect my bag before heading to the airport. He put me on the jet and we flew to Portland. He got me off the jet and drove me home.
Sam insisted on carrying my bag, just like he’d insisted on calling me by my married name. The man did the best subtle, concerned sidelong glance I’d ever seen. Never said much, though, which I appreciated immensely.
I sleepwalked my sorry self up the stairs to the apartment Lauren and I shared. Home was a garlic-scented hallway courtesy of Mrs Lucia downstairs, constantly cooking. Peeling green wallpaper and worn wooden floorboards, scuffed and stained. Lucky I’d put the Converse on or my feet would have been full of splinters. This floor was nothing like the gloss and gleam of David’s house. You could see yourself in that sucker.