30
James Bond has a license to kill, rock stars have a license to be outrageous.—Gene Simmons
“You sure you don't want to come with us?" Mel paused in the doorway. "You're welcome to."
Her date, a tall, athletic man whose name Rhett couldn't remember, turned to look back into the condo. "She's right. We have an extra ticket, and we'd love to have you along."
Rhett waved a hand in dismissal. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not a big Mavericks fan. Y'all go have fun. I'm just going to kick back and relax tonight."
The minute the door closed behind them, Rhett allowed herself to make a face.
The basketball game sounded kind of fun, but she couldn't think of anything more uncomfortable than being the third wheel on someone's first date.
The fact that Mel invited her along meant she was less serious about this guy than Rhett thought.
But then, Mel never got very serious about any of them.
In the three months since their mother's death, Mel had been dating with a vengeance, and Rhett assumed it was her sister's way of dealing with the loss.
That's what Mel did—date. As for Rhett, she picked up right where she left off, half-heartedly house hunting, checking out tons of books from the library, and wandering aimlessly around her sister's luxurious condo.
She thought the grieving process would have been much the same as it was when Todd died, but it wasn't. After her husband's death, Rhett had trouble remembering he was gone.
She kept tripping over the fact of his death like a pair of shoes left in the middle of the living room floor.
A bill would come in the mail, and her first instinct was to put it aside for Todd to look at.
Or she'd be planning meals and reach for the phone to call and ask if there was anything he preferred that week.
In fact, she didn't truly accept his death until she learned he'd cheated on her.
But her mother? Rhett knew she was gone. Maybe it was because she got to say goodbye to her. Or maybe it was because she was so relieved her mother was out of pain. Whatever it was, there were no moments when she forgot Bettina was dead. There was just emptiness where her mother had once been.
One thing her mother said during that long, nightmarish night stuck with her and caused her a lot of consternation.
Bettina said Mel was tender-hearted and covered it up with toughness, and Rhett was tough but covered it up by being tender-hearted.
Rhett never thought of herself as tough.
In fact, she spent her life rolling over for other people, both literally and figuratively.
Had she been tough before things changed?
Before her father walked out on them, and before Mel decided to become the most notorious female in Claiborne?
Was that when Rhett altered a basic part of herself?
In her desire to not be like Mel, maybe she swung too far in the other direction and lost her ability to stand up for herself.
Her eyes narrowed as she remembered the last time she really asserted herself in a way she thought of as tough.
Lilith was only a couple of months old and had been suffering from colic.
Neither Rhett nor Todd had gotten a full night's sleep in a week and were both on edge.
Compounding the situation was Todd's new job which had him laboring in the hot Texas summer sun all day, and Rhett's bone-chilling fear that she had no idea how to take care of a baby.
It all came to a head one night when they had a rip-roaring, screaming, throwing things argument.
Rhett couldn't even remember what it was about, but there was no forgetting the moment Todd raised his hand to hit her.
Thinking back, Rhett recalled the sense of calm that fell over her at that moment. Instead of being frightened, she had been cool, composed and unruffled.
"If you hit me," she told him, "you better make sure you knock me out. That'll give you a head start, because you damn sure better not be here when I wake up."
Todd never raised his hand to her again.
Rhett knew the only reason he did it that night was because he was a scared, exhausted eighteen-year-old boy who found himself in the middle of a situation over which he felt he had no control.
But had she not stood up to him, it might have started a cycle that was too horrible to contemplate.
Tough. Not an adjective she ever associated with herself.
But maybe she was. Holding it together after Todd died, quitting her job at Metal Specialties, chucking her life in Claiborne to move to Dallas, all those things were the actions of a woman who had a streak of toughness.
Even letting Rhys know in no uncertain terms that she wanted him took a measure of toughness.
In fact, the only time she really let anyone roll over her in the past year was when she let Sienna Collinsworth dictate her love life.
Rhett sat up straight, mouth open in shock.
She'd been so busy being pissed off at Rhys for giving into his daughter's demands that she hadn't realized she'd done the same damn thing.
Why had she stayed in Dallas feeling sorry for herself?
Why hadn't she gotten on a plane and got her ass to Chicago to show Sienna—and Rhys—that no teenaged brat was going to tell her who she could and couldn't see?
Rhett snatched her cell phone off the coffee table and stalked into her bedroom. Stopping in the middle of the floor, she brought up the text screen and typed out a message with firm, strong taps. Then she sat down at her desk and flipped open her laptop.
It was time to get tough.
Heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear, Rhett jerked open the backstage door of the Forum in Inglewood, California and dashed inside. Before she took two steps, Sara Kellum rushed toward her, arms outstretched.
"Thank God you made it." Sara crushed Rhett in a quick, enthusiastic hug, and then held her by the shoulders to look her over. "I'm so glad you texted me, though, or I'd have thought you changed your mind."
"That stupid snowstorm in the Midwest has got flights delayed all over the country," Rhett groused. "I was beginning to think I wasn't going to make it here before the show was over, never mind getting here before it started."
Sara took her by the hand and dragged her along as she took off at a trot. "Well, you did make it, barely. They've just started the encore."
"So, how's Rhys taking it?"
"Taking what?"
Rhett looked sideways at Sara, eyebrows raised. "Me coming here."
Frowning in confusion, Sara shook her head, making her ponytail dance. "Sweetie, he doesn't know, remember? The only ones who know are me, Ross and T."
Rhett wagged the laminated pass hanging around her neck. "Then how'd his initials get on this thing? I've gotta tell you, when it came in the mail and I opened it up, I almost passed out when I saw R.C. at the bottom."
"T took care of it, don't worry." Sara tossed a grin over her shoulder. "Believe me, this was the biggest covert operation since Parker's surprise birthday party in 2007. Here we go. Rhys's dressing room."
"Holy shit." Rhett stared at the beautiful abstract painting that covered the door from top to bottom.
She glanced to her right and saw similar artwork gracing the doors of all the dressing rooms. And speaking of all, each door had a sign above it with a band member's name emblazoned on it.
No hastily printed pieces of paper affixed with tape at this place. "Separate dressing rooms?"
"Girl, this place is amazing," Sara said, her eyes wide.
"They've got a room just for friends and family of the band that's swanky as hell.
There's even a game room back here with video games, bowling, virtual golf, all kinds of shit.
When they renovated this place, they did it up right.
Come on, let's go in and get you settled. "
The first thing that struck Rhett when she walked in was that Rhys hadn't done anything to personalize the room for his short stay.
It was almost like walking into a generic hotel room.
A gray suede jacket was tossed over the arm of a red leather recliner, and there was an open bag of Ricola cough drops on the marble topped coffee table next to a half-drunk mug of tea.
Rhett didn't need to taste it to know it contained a healthy slug of Johnnie Walker to soothe his throat.
On the floor next to the couch lay Rhys's black messenger bag and a pair of gray and black Vans.
Other than those few items, the room could have belonged to anyone.
Sara eased Rhett's overnight bag off her shoulder and tossed it on the couch. "Okay, how are you doing?"
Rhett laughed under her breath. "In general, or right now?"
"Right now. We'll get to in general later."
Blowing out a breath, Rhett pushed her hair back with both hands. "Sara, I'm freaking out. Maybe me springing out of his dressing room like a jack-in-the-box isn't such a good idea. What if he calls T in here and has me tossed out?"
"He's not going to do that."
"What if he does?"
"Rhett," Sara began, but broke off in a sigh. "If he does, and that's a big if, then you tell T I said to bring you to Ross's room, okay? But that's not going to happen, so quit worrying about it. I'm gonna get out of here before they get back, so take a deep breath and try to calm down."
"I'll give it a shot."
Sara enfolded Rhett in another hug. "I'm glad you're here. You're good for him, and he's going to be batshit happy to see you."