Chapter 11
I’d just finished lacing up my Doc Martens when someone knocked on my bedroom door.
“Come in,” I called, covering my shoes with the length of my skirt and straightening up.
Violet stepped inside wearing a blush jumpsuit, strappy nude heels, and a necklace with enough carats that she’d probably topple over if she leaned too far forward.
Her pale hair was pulled back into a sleek high ponytail, and her makeup was minimal.
She glanced toward my bed as if expecting me to be curled up with a comic, then scanned the entirety of the room.
When she spotted me standing beside my vanity, her eyes widened slightly.
“So it’s true,” she said, her gaze drifting over the outfit I’d chosen for tonight. “Dad said you’d decided to come, but I didn’t believe him.”
“What gave it away?” I asked, picking an imaginary piece of lint off my sleeve. Any second now, Violet would comment on my black nail polish or the tiny silver pentacles hanging from my ears.
“Your outfit,” she answered, not picking up on my sarcasm. “You look really pretty, Indie.”
“I—ah, thanks,” I replied, her compliment catching me off guard.
For the premiere, I’d chosen a black long-sleeved top tucked into a pleated floor-length skirt that swished around my ankles when I walked.
The satin material was a brilliant emerald green, which matched the stone set into the choker around my neck.
“So,” she said, fiddling with her necklace. “What made you change your mind?”
I sighed. Of course she had to ask the one question I couldn’t answer. More likely than not, Violet would be pissed if I admitted the only reason I was coming to the premiere was to support Xander. “Well,” I said, a bit uncomfortably. “Should be fun, right?”
She frowned. “Right…”
We both knew I hated these kinds of events, so I tried again. “This is the last one, so I figured I should be there.”
“Okay.” Uncertainty laced her reply, but she let the subject drop. “I’m heading out in ten. Do you…maybe want to come with me?”
“Sorry, but no.” My answer was swift and firm, but I didn’t mean any offense by it.
Tagging along with Violet meant walking the red carpet.
“I’ll catch a ride with Dad.” Although his life revolved around Violet’s career, Dad was never one for the spotlight himself.
He avoided the press as best he could, which meant he’d be slipping in through one of the side entrances for noncelebrity folk. “He hasn’t left yet, has he?”
“Of course not. He’s in his office, like always.”
I blinked. For the second time tonight, Violet’s words had taken me by surprise. Never before had she acknowledged Dad’s workaholic nature. At least not in my presence.
“Well,” she said when I didn’t respond. “I need to touch up my makeup before leaving, so I guess I’ll see you there.”
“Yeah, see you,” I said, lost in thought as she closed my door.
Later that night, I clambered down from the back seat of a Cadillac Escalade, careful not to step on my skirt.
Dad slid out after me. When he hired a private car service to chauffeur us around for the evening, I’d assumed it was so he didn’t have to deal with LA traffic or worry about driving home following the after-party.
Once we were on the road, however, I realized it was so he could focus his full attention on work.
Any attempt I made at conversation was brushed off.
As the SUV pulled away from the curb, I hurried up the steps toward the theater without waiting for him.
“Hey, kiddo,” he called. “Wait for your old man!”
I didn’t stop, but he caught up to me before I reached the entrance.
Oblivious to my irritation, he opened the door with a flourish and a smile. “After you.”
“Wow,” I said, staring up at him in mock shock. “I’m so flattered you realized I’m here.”
Confusion creased Dad’s forehead. “What are you talking about?”
“Dad, you spent the entire drive on the phone.”
“I’m sorry, Indie.” An exasperated sigh followed his apology, and I knew he didn’t mean it. These were just words recited to placate me. “I had important work to get out of the way so I can give tonight my full attention.”
I cut Dad a cold look. “You mean Violet.”
“What?”
“You had important work to get out of the way so you could give Violet your full attention,” I said, trying to sound neutral and informative, but I was too angry. My accusation shone through, and Dad’s features hardened.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” he whispered so the security guard at the door couldn’t hear us, “but I don’t want your bad attitude ruining tonight for your sister, is that clear?”
His words pressed heavily on my heart, and the sudden urge to laugh bubbled up my throat.
It was the wrong reaction given the situation, but I felt like I’d lost control of my emotions.
“Five minutes,” I said, swallowing back my bizarre, inappropriate laughter.
“You couldn’t spare five minutes to talk with me. ”
“Indigo,” he said, frowning down at me. “We have all evening together.”
But between the actual screening and rubbing elbows with Hollywood’s elite, I knew he’d be too busy for me. Like he always was. “Whatever, Dad,” I said, throat tight, and I walked away before the stinging in my eyes could turn into tears.
He called after me, but I didn’t turn around to answer him.
I made my way up a set of stairs covered in tacky movie theater carpet and emerged into one of New Orleans’s historic cities of the dead, a hat tip to the show’s setting.
An ironwork gate guarded the entrance of the lobby, decorative and rusty with age.
Sun-bleached tombs, ornate mausoleums, and stone statues lined the edges of the room, while votive candles flickered from atop cocktail tables.
At least fifty people were milling around the cemetery.
I knew a lot of them from their involvement with IN, but I wasn’t in the mood to socialize.
Instead, I took advantage of the free snack bar, grabbing a soda and box of Dots before finding a secluded table to hole up at.
The next half hour was spent avoiding humans and waiting for Xander to arrive.
I was subtly trying to pick gumdrop from my teeth when a sharp voice sounded behind me.
“Indie, there you are.”
Somehow, despite choosing a table with a direct view of guests arriving off the red carpet, I’d missed Xander’s entrance, and he’d managed to sneak up on me.
I let out an involuntary breath at the sight of him—elegant, black tux; shaggy hair slicked back to magazine perfection; green eyes glinting from behind a pair of brow-line glasses.
He looked like a cross between James Bond and Q, dashing and nerdy at the same time.
A sudden urge to throw myself at him swept through me.
Then finally, I registered the twisted expression on his face, and it iced the desire stirring in my stomach.
“Ah, hi.” I glanced around for the rest of the Heartbreakers but didn’t see them anywhere. “Everything okay?”
Xander’s eyes fluttered closed, and he slowly drew in his breath. “Sorry,” he said, the edge in his voice softening. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”
“Okay?” I replied, still unsure what was going on. “Did something happen?”
At first, I thought Xander would paste on a smile and pretend everything was fine, but then he shook his head. “I know tonight is about your sister.” His tone was low with a hint of desperation. “But do you maybe want to get out of here?”
Still hurt from the conversation with my dad, I snatched up my clutch and took his hand. “There’s nothing I’d like to do more.”
* * *
Outside the theater, Xander extracted his phone from the breast pocket of his jacket and shot off a text. Countless questions danced on the tip of my tongue, but I bit down on them with every ounce of patience I could muster.
“So,” I said, searching for a safe subject. Until he was ready to open up, small talk would have to suffice. “How was the rest of your weekend?”
On Saturday, after Xander’s friends rejoined us and finished their food, we attended the concert Stella wanted to see.
The Sensible Grenade turned out to be a hardcore punk band consisting of three grouchy-looking dudes covered in piercings.
There was lots of angry screaming, stomping around the stage, and raging against the establishment.
The music wasn’t my cup of tea, but watching Stella enjoy herself was entertainment enough.
She jumped up and down, headbanged along with the lead singer, and shouted all the lyrics at the top of her lungs.
To each her own, I guessed.
When the show finally ended, I was ready to drop from exhaustion.
Oliver had passes for everyone to meet the band backstage, but it had been a long day, and I decided to bow out.
After I gave the guys instructions on how to remove their prosthetics and thanked them for their help, Xander walked me to my car.
“Drive safe,” he’d told me as I unlocked my door. “If you get sleepy, call me. We can talk until you make it home.”
“Don’t worry. There’s no way I’m going to fall asleep. This ringing will keep me awake the entire way,” I said, stuffing a finger in my ear and trying to wiggle away the pain. “But thanks for the offer.”
He nodded. “See you on Tuesday?”
“Yup.” I slid behind the wheel, keys jingling in my hand. “But you have to promise to sit with me during the premiere so we can laugh at all the corny lines together.”
“Even if I’m in the scene?”
I grinned. “Especially then.”
Now, I cast a sideways glance at Xander. His hands were jammed into his front pockets, and as I watched, he tipped his head back to stare up at the sky.
“Eh,” he said, shrugging in response to my question. “It was boring. We had a never-ending meeting on Sunday to finalize some tour details.”