Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
W ith just eight days left in paradise, Mattie woke up alone and disappointed. She’d sent Adam home the night before because when he stayed neither one of them got any sleep. They had to be fresh for the work session today, a fact she’d told him several times before he reluctantly agreed.
Now she felt the pang of regret as she pushed herself out of the empty bed.
Mattie pulled her phone out of the drawer for the daily check-in.
Della had sent a flurry of texts during the night, or rather happy hour, if Mattie was doing the time zone calculation right. Assuming, of course, that Della was in New York now, and not LA. It was a big assumption. Della wasn’t on tour anymore. She could be anywhere.
Mattie tensed in anticipation of what her little sister had to say.
Talk to me.
Please?
That guy’s a pickle headed donkey wipe .
Mattie giggled at the phrase Della had come up with when they were kids. It was the worst possible insult her six-year-old brain had been able to come up with.
That song is all you. Anybody can tell.
He wouldn’t have a hit without you.
Want me to set the Bell Babes on him?
Mattie shook her head. It wouldn’t do any good to have a horde of enraged Bellamy fans attack Devon on Twitter. Better if he just faded away into obscurity.
It was ironic her own work guaranteed that wouldn’t happen. The song she’d written with Devon was still number one on the charts.
Della’s texts continued.
I’m so, so, so sorry. About everything.
I was wrong.
I should have talked about it with all of you first.
I should have done a lot of things.
I was a selfish bitch.
If I could take it back I would.
How can I make it up to you?
Please tell me how to fix this.
I miss you. So much.
She stared at the texts, absorbing the pain and admission of guilt from her little sister. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
She tapped out a response. Miss you too Dell Bell.
Three dots appeared to indicate Della was responding.
Are we okay?
Can we talk?
Mattie sighed and tapped out a reply. Not now. Heading to work.
Mattie pictured the three of them back on stage together. It was easy to do. She’d spent a good portion of her life living that way, and she knew the sounds, the smells, and the emotions that bounced from the crowd, to them, and back again.
Most of all, she knew the way music caressed the souls of everyone in the room. The way it lifted hearts and minds. The way it connected them all so tightly that the buzz lasted for hours after.
Longing for what used to be poked at her, hard.
The problem was, she knew even if they did get back together, it wouldn’t be the same. They were different now. Older. They’d navigated years apart. They weren’t the tight unit they used to be, and she didn’t think they ever would be again, even if they tried.
Della sent, Mattie? Still there?
Some conversations needed to happen face-to-face, and this was one of them. Will talk later. Promise.
She flicked to Piper’s message and read it. Hey, have you seen this?
The link Piper sent directed Mattie to LA POP , one of the seedier celebrity gossip websites. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach when she saw the grainy photo of her shaking hands with Adam at the band’s studio.
The headline read, Bellamy Babe Banished?
Mattie quickly scrolled past the photo to read the article.
Adam Brooks was last seen in the company of Mattie Bellamy, well known for her ability to snare men in her web, and now both have vanished without a trace. Are they together? Perhaps on some island retreat where anything goes? Or has she ensnared him somewhere closer to home? You’ll know when we do!
Her gaze fixated on the words “island retreat.” LA POP would say anything to get clicks, but the fact that it was true left her feeling cold and unsure.
“Assholes,” she muttered out loud, then texted the same to Piper for good measure.
Seconds later, a video call from Piper chimed. She accepted it, then propped the phone on the lamp. Piper was in bed but didn’t look like she’d been sleeping.
“Hey, Pipsqueak.” Mattie frowned. “What time is it there?”
“Ten at night.” Piper set the phone down on something, then lay back against her pillows. “I was about to call you. Wanted to make sure you saw the text.”
Mattie bit her lip. “It’s just speculation. Right?”
“I’m not so sure. It seemed a little too on point. They mentioned island retreat like they saw you land or something. Are you sure there’s no paparazzi there?”
Mattie looked out the window. All she could see were trees, but trees provided excellent cover for long-range lenses. She knew that all too well.
“I’m pretty sure. It’s a private island with no roads. How would they even get in without being noticed?”
Piper snorted. “They crawl through cracks like roaches. Trust me, they can get in anywhere. How many other groups are at the resort? Has anyone recognized you or the band?”
“We have the place to ourselves, and the staff photographer’s the only one I’ve seen with a camera.”
“Staff photographer. Right, you mentioned him before.” Piper leaned forward. “What’s his name? ”
“Dan something?” Mattie furrowed her brow trying to remember. “Or Don. That’s it. Don.”
Piper picked up the phone and the screen blanked out with the word “Paused” in the center. “Don from Syer Island resort. Has he taken any other shots?”
Mattie thought of the night she spent with Adam on the beach. “I don’t think so. We haven’t done anything that would need photos.”
Piper’s face came back on screen.
“What about the other night? You wore the red dress, right? Are you telling me no photo-worthy moments happened?”
“Well, actually, Adam called right after we hung up to invite me on a picnic.” She kept her voice casual.
Piper’s eyes widened. “Nice. Did you say yes? Where was the picnic?”
“Yes, and yes, I wore the red dress.” Mattie did her best to look innocent. “We went to Lanmou Bay. It’s beautiful. There’s a waterfall and a small private beach.”
“Lanmou Bay. I saw that on the website. That’s what they call their lover’s hideaway.” Piper grinned. “You actually did it. You did the naughty tango with Adam Brooks.”
She rolled her eyes at her sister. “We had a picnic.”
“Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days?” Piper’s voice was filled with amusement.
“You did say I should relax and have a fling.”
“Yeah but I didn’t think you’d actually do it. I’m impressed.” Piper golf clapped her approval.
Mattie checked the time. “I should go. We start session in fifteen minutes.”
“Wait.” Piper pushed herself up higher on the pillows. “You have to give me some details before you run away. How was it? ”
“It was nice.”
“Nice. That’s how you’d describe wallpaper. Surely he was better than nice.”
“I’m not going to give you a play-by-play if that’s what you’re hunting for.” Mattie lifted her chin and looked away, pretending disdain.
“Just rate him on the scale of your last five. Was he better than Devon?”
“Bitch.” Mattie glared at the phone. “I never slept with Devon. You know we only kissed once and that was the worst kiss in the history of all kisses. His nose was literally wet, like a dog.”
Piper flashed an unashamed grin. “So Adam’s nose was toasty warm, was it?”
“I’m not playing this game with you.” Mattie flung the pillow aside. “I have to go.”
“What about Hank the Tank? He was a lot of fun, if I remember right. You said he could hold you with one hand while he—”
“Adam’s better than that,” Mattie interrupted. “Hank was rough and in too much of a hurry. Besides, that was years ago.”
“Tim the Tool?”
“He isn’t a tool, he’s a tailor.” She glanced at the closet. One of her favorite dresses had Tim’s label on it. “He makes great clothes.”
“Yeah but did he make you scream more than Adam?” Piper wiggled her eyebrows.
Mattie huffed in exasperation. “Your mind is always in the gutter, you know that?”
“Just answer the question. Was Adam better than your last five hook-ups?”
Mattie thought about the massage Adam had given her and couldn’t stop the sly smile. “Not just better. Best. Ever. ”
“Oh really?” Piper’s wicked grin was half hidden behind the pillow. “Do you like him, or is he just good for a romp or two?
Happiness wrapped around her as she thought of him. “He’s really sweet. A little too enthusiastic sometimes, but yes. I like him.”
“Enthusiastic?” Piper looked confused. “Like a puppy?”
Mattie laughed. “No. I mean, he jumps into things with his whole being, you know? Like this room.”
She picked up the phone and showed all the vases filled with pink and white hibiscus. “The whole villa is filled with these because I said I liked the petals on the cabana bed.”
Piper whistled. “Nice touch, Romeo. He really goes all out when he wants someone, doesn’t he?”
“I don’t think he had to pay for these flowers. He just had to ask the butler to bring them over.”
“Not the flowers, silly.” Piper flicked her hand out in an isn’t-it-obvious gesture. “He rented the whole damn island just to have some place to be alone with you.”
“No he didn’t. He didn’t even know me when they planned this trip. He told me they do these writing retreats all the time.”
“Uh-huh. Sure they do.” Piper’s voice and face dripped with sarcasm. “Do you have any idea how much those villas cost per night?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Take a guess.”
Mattie glanced around at the room. White marble, rich wood, and fine sheets gave the impression of understated tropical elegance, but she knew that kind of look cost a lot of money to achieve. She’d experienced a taste of that expense when she renovated her bathroom.
The villa wasn’t small. Hers had three bedrooms, three bathrooms, plus the living spaces. She assumed the others were the same. The band could have shared one villa and had plenty of room to spare, but they each had their own. She hadn’t thought about how much it cost to take over that kind of space at a resort until Piper mentioned it. “A thousand?”
“Try five. Each.”
Mattie gaped at her. “Five thousand for a week?”
“A night. There are eleven or twelve of them, do the math.” Piper nodded knowingly. “I looked it up when you said you were going there. Not to mention what it must cost to keep the main house empty. Plus all the staff. And you said you have exclusive access to the entire island for a month.”
“Oh my God.” Mattie ran through the numbers as Piper spelled them out.
“My best guess is this little work retreat is costing somewhere around one and a half million. That’s a lot of money even for a band as successful as Delusions of Glory. If they did this every time they put out an album, they’d be flat broke.”
“What are you trying to say?” She felt a little sick.
Piper propped her chin on the pillow in her arms. “I’m saying there’s a possibility Adam might have planned this little vacay as an excuse to get to know you.”
Mattie stared out the window, thinking through every conversation she’d had with Adam. “He’s careless with money but surely he wouldn’t spend that much just to get me alone.”
“Why not? You’re worth it.” Piper tilted her head. “You’re a Bellamy Babe. We were famous before Adam and his glory boys had their first hit.”
Piper’s seed of doubt took root in Mattie’s stomach and grew tendrils of uncertainty. “I told him if I came it would be just about the songs. He agreed.”
“Of course he did. He wanted you to say yes. Out of curiosity, in a strictly scientific experiment, ask them about their other writing retreats. If they do this kind of thing all the time, they’ll have stories, right?”
The phone buzzed, and a text from Adam popped up on the screen. Ready to go?
He was probably waiting for her outside her bedroom door. “I have to go. Adam’s waiting.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know what I find out about the camera guy. Love you.” Piper waved.
“Love you more.” Mattie ended the call, picked up her bag, and hurried out to meet Adam.
After a morning spent hashing over the same four lines until Mattie thought her ears might bleed, even she had to admit it was time for a break.
She didn’t understand why that break had to involve windsurfing. She clung to the boom with both hands while the board wobbled in what felt like ten-foot waves and wished she were anywhere, anywhere , other than here.
“Turn into the wind,” Adam shouted as he zipped past her for the fourth time.
“I am turning into the stupid wind,” Mattie muttered.
She pulled on the boom. It moved a few inches, and the wind caught. The sail billowed, and her feet shifted and slid. The sail tilted toward the water in slow, horrifying motion. She squealed as it dumped her into the ocean for the fifth time.
“Ten out of ten for style, Mattie!” Cooper shouted from the top of a wave. He rode it almost back to the shore before he caught the wind and zipped off in the opposite direction.
Sputtering salt water and swear words, Mattie draped her upper body across the board and let the waves push her wherever they wanted. She’d never understand why they found swallowing gallons of salt water and getting beat up by fabric so exciting .
Adam splashed into the water nearby and swam over to her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Why did he look so exhilarated when she felt so exhausted? “My arms are going to fall off and I can’t feel my legs, but that’s okay. I don’t need them.”
“Ouch,” Adam said with a hint of laughter. He patted her back in what he probably thought was a reassuring manner but came off as mostly condescending. “You’ll get the hang of it. You’ve already mastered getting up on your feet.”
“That’s not mastery. That’s panic.” She clung to the scrap of wood harder as a gentle wave rocked past. “My whole body is shaking. I need a break from this break.”
“Come on, I’ll tow you back to shore.”
“No, no, no. You’re having fun. I can get myself back.”
“Hey, brother!” Brandon called out. “Race you to the buoy over there.”
Adam gave Mattie a questioning look. “You sure?”
She waved him off. “Go kick his ass. I’ll be camped out on a lounge chair with an enormous adult beverage when you’re done.”
“Save me one.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and pushed away from her. “Loser buys the first round at O’Brians when we get back.”
Brandon whooped and promptly fell into the water.
It took a second for Mattie to realize he’d done it on purpose. Adam, Brandon, and Cooper all lined up in a row in the water next to their boards.
Flynn sat on his board in front of them with his hand high in the air. “Okay, men, keep it clean and wet. On your marks. Get set. Go!”
The three racers lifted their sails up out of the water. Brandon was the first one to get his sail up over his head and into the wind. He stepped out of the water and onto the board with casual ease and shot out ahead of the other two.
“Eat my wake!” Brandon shouted, already a good distance out in front.
Adam was the next one to right himself and take off, with Cooper close behind him.
Mattie would have cheered them on, but she was too tired to lift her arms. She watched for a few seconds, then paddled her way to shore. LT waved encouragingly at her from the shore, then disappeared into the tree line with Malika.
Flynn was close behind her when she rolled onto the sand and stood up. She splashed water at the sand on her legs while she waited for Flynn.
“You looked like a pro out there.” Flynn winked at her.
She snorted at that. “A pro what?”
“Hey, every pro starts learning how to windsurf with their ass up. The only difference between Brandon and you is he kept getting back on the board.”
They walked back up the beach together. She was glad it wasn’t far to the lounge chairs that surrounded the bonfire pit. Her body shook with overexertion. She wanted to sit and not move for the next three hours.
A cooler filled with bottles of beer and other beverages waited for them next to a table holding snacks.
Flynn grabbed a beer, while Mattie ordered a fruity cocktail called Exotic Passion from one of the servers. Then she collapsed onto one of the lounge chairs facing the ocean.
Adam, Brandon, and Cooper looked like ants riding kites on the vast expanse of waves. She couldn’t tell who’d won the original race because they zipped in and around each other on their way to some other destination.
“They make it look so easy.”
Flynn flopped down into the chair next to her with his beer in one hand and a sandwich in the other. “They should. They been doing it their whole lives. Brandon learned to surf before he could walk, practically. He won the Junior Windsurfing Championship two years in a row.”
Mattie squinted out at the three now racing toward the dock on the far left. “I guess that makes sense, growing up in California.”
A server arrived with her cocktail, which Mattie took a grateful smile. Two long sips and her entire relaxed into the chair. “Oh, that’s better. I’ll be sad when we leave this place. It’s been a lot of fun.”
“Me too.” Flynn took a swig of beer. “This is definitely the jam on my bread. Ten out of ten, would do again. Hey, maybe you can convince Adam to come back next year.”
The comment hit Mattie like cold water on a bad tooth. Some of the lazy haze slopped away as she remembered the conversation with Piper earlier.
Adam planned this little vacay after he met you, so he could have a chance to get to know you. Ask them about their other writing retreats. If they do this kind of thing all the time, they’ll have stories.
Mattie glanced at Flynn. He’d finished his sandwich and was sprawled on the lounge chair with his head back against the pillow. His sunglasses made it impossible to tell if his eyes were open or closed. Either way, he was relaxed, and it was just the two of them. She was never going to get a better chance to get answers.
“Flynn…where else have you gone for writing retreats?”
“Huh?” Flynn lifted his sunglasses to squint at her.
“Writing retreats.” She offered him a dripping-with-Southern-charm smile. “You know, like the one we’re on now. Where else have you gone?”
“Hell we’ve never gone anywhere like this.” Flynn barked a laugh. “Usually Johnny J and Adam go to some dive bar and bang it out over cheap beer and stale peanuts. Sometimes Coop and Brandon go with ’em, but most times not. Me and LT never come in until it’s ready for spit ’n polish in the studio. I could sure get used to this, though.”
Could Piper be right? Had Adam engineered this entire trip as some sort of seduction?
No. Her heart rejected the idea. Adam wasn’t like that. He wasn’t.
But what if he did?
She told herself it wouldn’t matter, because she was just having a fling, but that was a lie. It was more than that now. It was the start of something—or at least the possibility of something—more.
The thought that he might have manufactured an elaborate scenario to spend time with her didn’t feel sweet. It felt like something Devon Morales would do. It felt like a trap.
She needed to talk to Adam to figure out what was real and what was just paparazzi-induced paranoia.
She watched Adam chase Brandon across the waves while her thoughts bubbled.