Chapter 11
A bby
Nightfall came and went, and when I finally woke up, it was morning, and the rain had finally moved on. Had we really just spent the night together? Lying next to a sleeping Liam, checking out his strange, symbolic tattoos on his arms and back—a tribal design with some words elaborately written in cursive, I thought about what I’d done. I’d never, in the four years I’d been having sex, made love like that. Samuel was the only other man I’d ever been with, and I’d always had to either fake it, tell him it wasn’t going to happen, or take care of it myself later.
What made Liam so different?
It might have been his energy, his passion for life, for music, and for me that made the difference. Samuel, a junior accountant, was passionate about numbers, order, logic, and old episodes of Mystery Science Theater . Though he did have a sense of humor, there was no vigor in anything he did. Not that I was a wild woman, but…I could be .
It just took the right person to pull it out of me, apparently. Who knew?
I was positive my phone was in another room somewhere, its battery dead. There would probably be a hundred texts and phone calls waiting on it, too. We hadn’t told anyone where we were going, as far as I knew, since I hadn’t seen Liam use his phone all day yesterday other than to look at his maps.
Next to me, he stirred. In just a minute, upon his waking up, everything would be different. One way or another—whether we were now a “couple,” or whether we went back to our regularly scheduled programs—things would never be the same. I’d had sex with Liam Collier. I’d slept with a famous man, my arm over his shoulder for most of the night. Would he regret it, or would he smile? Even though I had no right to him, I had to admit I would be horribly disappointed if he returned to just being a rock star and a womanizer, no more, no less. It would be painful to see him backstage, going in and out of buses, or anywhere else we might cross paths.
Maybe I should have thought that through a little more before I let my body do the thinking for me. Gazing at his back, tracing the lines of the swirling design and thorns, I followed the curve of the scripted letters— Veni, Vidi, Vici.
I’d heard of Vici before. Somewhere.
Suddenly, Liam’s phone started ringing from the floor. He mumbled, stirred, then sat upright in bed. “Shit,” he said, and my heart sank. This beautiful dream was about to end. Perhaps I should’ve woken him last night and insisted we get back. He dove to the floor, and I averted my eyes so as to not look directly at his naked body. What was the big deal? I’d just seen him completely naked last night, hadn’t I? Still, it was one thing when you were in the middle of making love and quite another when a guy was bending over searching for his phone.
He found it and pressed it to his ear. “Yeah…” He listened, running a hand through his hair. I could hear someone’s exasperated le cturing on the other end of the line. “I know. I know, I know, trust me, I know. Okay, I’m on my way.” He hung up.
I’m on my way. Not we’re.
“Is everything okay?”
“Robbie’s pissed.”
“Because you’re not there?”
“Because I hadn’t checked in.”
“I can understand that. Can’t have a show if the front man isn’t there, can you?”
He shrugged, picking up his jeans and shirt. “I guess, but he had no reason to worry. I’m always there.”
“I should have woken you last night. I’m sorry,” I said, covering myself with the sheet. “I just didn’t…”
He faced me, dropped the clothes on the bed, and took my hands. “No, you didn’t have to do anything. I loved spending time with you. It was beautiful and perfect. You’re perfect. It’s just that we have to go now. They’re probably looking for you, too.”
He was right, though I didn’t want to leave the serenity of this isolated, empty house.
“Before we go, though…” He held up his phone.
I arched a brow. “You want another video?”
His eyes widened, and he burst out laughing. “Uh…definitely a topic to discuss another time. But right now, with you looking so sweet and gorgeous and rumpled, I’d like a selfie. You okay with that?”
Hesitantly, I nodded, but I clutched the sheet tighter to me. With a grin, he just leaned in to me, touched his face close to mine, and extended his arm with the orientation of the camera flipped so we could see ourselves on the screen. My breath caught at our image. Tousled. Intimate. Warm. Then he snapped the picture and showed it to me for my approval.
My heart tightened as I stared at it. We looked…right. We looked happy.
I blinked rapidly as tears filled my eyes, and to cover, I gave him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek then quickly rose, tugging the sheet with me. “We better get going,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice how husky with emotion my voice sounded.
We gathered up our things, packed away the cello, which I’d left out all night with this humidity, and ran to the car. Giving the house one last look, in case I never came here again, I climbed into the Porsche, and Liam showed me what the car could do, swerving and flying all the way back to downtown Seattle. He held my hand and stole looks at me often. That was a good sign. He didn’t avoid me and was still being sweet. Not an act. I didn’t know why I had expected anything otherwise.
I just hoped we didn’t get stopped for speeding and end up being even more late. Watching the scenery go by, I was keenly aware of one thing—I was grinning from ear to ear. When we were one block from the hotel, about to turn the corner to part ways, he pulled to the curb, tucked his hand under my hair, and gave me a long, sweet kiss. “Can I see you tonight?” he asked. “Offstage, that is?”
“Are you sure, Liam?” I asked nervously. “Neither of us can make promises at this point. That’s what we said back at the house.”
“I know.” He nodded. “But like I said before, I want to make you promises. And I haven’t felt that way in a very, very long time.” He pressed his lips to each of my cheeks and then my forehead. “Let’s meet later and decide where to go from here.” He smiled big as well, and my stomach turned into a thousand knots.
“Okay,” I said, against my better judgment. He was returning to his normal life after a day with me. Anything could happen, that was true—but I couldn’t be afraid of the what ifs.
Or rather, I couldn’t let my fear of what if s stop me.
No, if I wanted a chance at fulfilling the good what ifs —the ones that meant I’d see Liam’s house again and be in his arms again—I had to face head on the potentially bad ones with the potentially good.
Robbie hadn’t killed Liam too badly, just gave him a lengthy tongue lashing when we pulled into the hotel’s back driveway. Rosemary got over her worries quickly when I told her what happened and where I’d been, and when I divulged all in our hotel room, she squealed like a little girl. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe you fucked Liam Collier! You little tart!” She laughed.
I laughed, too, albeit weakly. I immediately wanted to correct her. Tell her we’d made love , not fucked. But of course I couldn’t say that. I was nuts to even think it.
“Abby, you just did what women the world over only dream of doing! So, please kiss and tell. Was it…any good?” She gave me a hopeful shoulder shrug.
“Well, not like I have a wealth of experience, but yes. He…did it for me,” I said, blushing and covering my face from pure embarrassment.
“Of course he did!” Rosemary cried, throwing a pillow at me. “Oh, my God, I AM SO JEALOUS!” She screamed until the people next door knocked on our wall to shut us up.
Our second Seattle show was on fire! As Liam would say.
It was a brilliant, clear night for a rock concert. The crowd ate up all of Liam’s antics, which seemed to include more energy, more wildness, more of everything. They sang along to all the songs, which fed his enthusiasm even more. And I got a wonderful response from the audience at the end of my solo for Save Me Tonight . Liam had faced me onstage, bowed to me, and blown me a kiss with a wink right in front of everyone. Rosemary even turned in her seat to give me an all-knowing look.
Had us being together last night brought something out in me? I felt like I’d woken up from a long, dark sleep, as if all was right with the world, and Liam was the reason. My mind knew better than to attribute all success and happiness to one person, but I really did feel on top of my game tonight, like everything had changed for the better. Whereas before I was here just for a paycheck, now I was here because I wanted to be—the song was starting to mean a lot more to me. Had I “saved” Liam last night, after he told me he had some darkness in his past? Had he written that song while desperately longing for someone to save his soul?
I loved to think I was that person, but all dreams must come to an end.
After the second set, before the encore, Rosemary felt the need to warn me backstage. “You know, we’re going to Vancouver next,” she said, arching an eyebrow.
“And?”
“And that’s where his ex-girlfriend is—Giselle Vici, the model.”
The name stopped me. Sure, I’d heard it before, but this time, it sent lead into the pit of my stomach. Vici was part of his tattoo. Was she the reason it was there?
Rosemary prattled on. “I’ve heard people talking about it. They’re wondering if he’s going to go see her or if she’ll show up. Basically, they’re placing bets to see if they’ll hook up again.”
Her words were like little daggers to my heart. I wanted to foolishly believe that being with me had changed all that, that Liam wouldn’t be interested in anybody but me at this point, that I’d at least keep him from seeing his ex-girlfriend tomorrow, but I wasn’t so sure.
And while he’d said he wanted to make promises to me, he hadn’t made any.
“Although…” Rosemary shrugged. “I’m sure it’s not going to happen. I mean, now that he has you.” She smiled and rubbed at a smudge on her violin case .
Yeah, not very reassuring, I could tell you that much. I had to face it. I was now in direct competition with a world-class supermodel, not to mention women more sexually experienced than I in every city. Well, I’d done my best. I’d been open and natural and myself, and hopefully, he appreciated that last night. It was the best I could do. If I wasn’t good enough for him—so be it.
After the show, it was time to wrap things up and get ready to leave for Vancouver. But Liam and I had agreed to meet backstage, so I should at least show up. He’d warned me about backstage activities during our car ride through Seattle. Beyond that, I’d already seen some of it. I knew to take whatever I saw with a grain of salt. If we were ever going to be together, I would have to learn to trust him. If we were going to be together.
Rosemary and I hovered closer to the backstage private rooms where some of the male members of our string section were invited in. Outside the door, girls in skimpy clothes waited. Some of them looked barely old enough to drive, though they were all ID’d by the security guard manning the door.
What would make them clamor to be let into this VIP room? The chance to say, “I gave Tucker Benning oral sex?” Why was that worth bragging rights? How would one brag about it in the first place, by putting a plaque on their wall that read: “Best Blow Job – Point Break – Feel the Burn Tour ”? I didn’t understand it and never would.
“If he invites you into the room, are you gonna go?” Rosemary asked, nervously scanning our increasingly party-atmosphere surroundings.
People flitted every which way. I felt like a frog trying to cross the street. I scooted back to let a dark, brunette exotic dancer by. Her gold bangles shook as she walked .
“I don’t know. Not sure I want to see what’s in there,” I admitted.
“I get that. But it would be a tremendous honor, don’t you think? Him letting you into his private circle.” Rosemary’s eyebrows did that Spock thing.
“I suppose so.”
Just then, Liam’s friend Helen strolled by with a few other girls, all wearing Feel the Burn concert T-shirts. She spotted me hovering near the center of the action and gave a gentle scoff, elbowing her friends, who all looked over as well. Great, high school all over again. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up? Waiting for Liam?”
“Not really,” I answered, not caring to tell her what was up . Though the way she asked the question made me think that Liam had already told her what was up. Besides, why else would I be standing here like a fish out of water? An uncool, nerdy fish. With Rosemary, the Taylor Swift of giraffes off the prairie.
“Oh.” She laughed with her friends. “He’s probably inside already.” Then she mumbled something I couldn’t hear, though it didn’t take a neurobiologist to understand what she probably said, considering that was the room where free blow jobs were being handed out like water bottles. She gestured toward the VIP room, though I hadn’t seen him enter, and I’d been standing here since the last set finished.
She pulled out her phone and fiddled with it. Was she texting him?
At that very moment, Wes and Corbin strolled by in their ripped jeans, tattoo-covered arms, and open shirts showing off smooth, tanned chests. Then, I spotted him. Liam and Tucker came running up behind them, bouncing up off the floor, and using Wes’s and Corbin’s shoulders as springboards. “Yeeeaaahhhhhh!” Liam cried, landing and sliding along the floor. Tucker tumbled, and Liam helped him up with a strong hand.
I looked at Helen. He was inside already, huh? If I didn’t know better, someone was trying to thwart my presence backstage. As expected, she looked away.
The four of them were having a moment of brotherhood bonding, while Rosemary and I talked about music and pretended not to be privy. But I could clearly hear what Tucker was saying to Liam. “What do you mean, you’re not gonna hang out with us?”
“I’m just tired, dude.”
“Tired from what, relaxing all fucking day yesterday? Bro, we didn’t see you yesterday, we barely saw you today, and now you’re taking off again.” Tucker slapped Liam’s arm, urging him to join them for some fun, and secretly, I prayed that he’d decline again. I knew it was probably hard for him to tell his buddies no, but I needed to know where I fit into his life—if I fit into it at all.
“He doesn’t know you’re here,” Rosemary pointed out over the noise, shielding me.
“I know. It’s so awkward,” I whispered back.
“Come on, man,” Wes said, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Just chill with us. Have a drinky drink. It’s cool if you’re in love.” He laughed, bumping elbows with Corbin.
“In love? Man, please,” Corbin said, taking a hit of what appeared to be weed, judging by the smell of the smoke. “We’re almost in Vancouver. That shit will end like a brick against a wall.”
“Yeah, man. Wait till Giselle finds out he spent the day with Asian Persuasion,” Tucker said.
“Why would she find out?” Wes asked rhetorically.
“Dude, call her Asian Persuasion one more time…just one more time…” Liam pushed his face right into Tucker’s, and my heart sped up from the sheer adrenaline of his words and the tone of his voice.
“You heard that?” Rosemary asked me.
“Yes.” Nervously, I chugged from my water bottle.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tucker said, putting on sunglasses and walking toward the VIP room. “I forgot you can’t take a joke. Perhaps you’d prefer the name Ball and Chain instead?” He laughed, bending and shaking his head at his own joke.
It happened fast.
Liam lunged at Tucker, grabbing him from behind and slamming him against a wall. Tucker fell back and swung out, clocking Liam in the temple, and in the nanosecond it took for Liam’s face to rebound back to center, his eyes met mine. Then he was back to pummeling Tucker. Everyone scrambled to stop them, and soon, they were surrounded by bandmates, Robbie, and a bunch of roadies trying to stop the fight.
Rosemary tugged on my arm in alarm. “They’re fighting about you.”
“What do we do?” I asked.
“Did you hear me? They’re fighting about you .”
They were. Fighting about me. Liam had stood up on my behalf to his best friend, while Helen, Corbin, Wes, Robbie, and a multitude of others watched in disbelief. He did it for me, because of me. If he didn’t care about me, he wouldn’t have bothered. He may have even laughed at the joke and brushed it off.
I was in awe.
Helen materialized from the middle of the crowd. “God, she’s right there, loser,” she said to Liam, pointing at me.
Liam came out of the crowd, his face a scratchy mess with a horizontal bloody mark on his forehead. He ambled toward me, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to do, where I belonged. Then I remembered last night, the special time we’d shared. That was real. And something that didn’t go away just because the sun came up.
“Let’s go,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me out of the madness.
Rosemary smiled and gave me a thumbs-up, and off I went with Liam.
Twenty minutes later, we were in a private room on the opposite side of the venue, away from the circus madness that was a rock show after party. Liam locked the door behind us and dropped onto a leather sofa. Inside the lounge was a mirror, two more comfy sofas, and several vending machines.
I grabbed a washcloth, wet it, and dabbed at his forehead, but the scratch had stopped bleeding. As I tended to him, Liam stared at me. With a sigh, I set the washcloth down. “Are you okay?” I sat down next to him and hugged him tightly.
He nodded. “Just Tuck being a drunken dick. I’m kind of over it.”
“Why does he care if you like me?”
“He doesn’t care. Not really. But he might be scared it’ll mean the end of us as buddies, as wingmen, I bet. Don’t take it personally. Please.” His hands smoothed down my hair and back. One hand reached into the back of my shirt, maybe just to feel the warmth of my skin.
“I’m not. I mean, I don’t know what to think.” It was frightening to consider that I might be coming between him and his friends. I certainly didn’t want to be responsible for friction. “Liam?” I asked, my cheek against his chest. His heartbeat raced within. “What are we doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, is this what you want? I don’t think I fit into your life.”
“Says who?” He pushed my shoulders back gently to look at me. “Why would you say that? You fit just fine.”
“Liam, just look at us. You, the highly wanted, high-profile lead singer of a famous rock band, and me…the backup cellist. Your friends are going to make fun of me. Your friend Helen makes fun of me.”
He shot me a wary eyebrow. “Why do you say that? ”
“A girl just knows.” I sighed, laying my head back down. “What I’m saying is…what if we see more of each other? If that ever happens, it’s going to come at a cost. The first one being that your friends will give you shit for it.”
“Listen to you, cursing and all. I love it.” He chuckled, his chest reverberating against my eardrum. His arms held me tighter. We remained in this tight embrace for a while. I loved the silence that came with us wherever we went, the way we carved out time for each other amid the craziness. But I still sensed some hesitation and fear buried deep in his voice. “Abby, eventually we might have to nail things down, but for right now, let’s keep this simple, okay?”
I hesitated. Simple. Was he serious? There was nothing simple about us spending time together. Every time we did, I fell for him even more. But saying that would scare him, and I didn’t want to scare him. I wanted to give what we could be together a chance. So I said, “okay.”
I almost asked him about Giselle, about his plans now that we were going to Vancouver. I needed to know where I stood. It was okay if he wanted to see her, but I needed to safeguard my heart if he did. Put up an iron wall and set up lots of cannons. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t be mad—I just wanted up-front honesty. However, the scent of his body and the salty taste of his skin where I started to kiss him—his neck, his collarbone—drove me into a tizzy, reminding me all about last night.
“I don’t care if they give me shit.” He sighed, leaning back farther, arms tightly clamped around me. “And I don’t care if I miss the after-party blow jobs. Since I met you, they don’t even tempt me.”
“What if they start to again?” I asked.
“Then I’ll tell you.”
His words sent a surge of trust through me. I didn’t know if he really meant it or not, but it sounded true. Maybe this life did come with an expiration date. Maybe he was getting tired of it all. But that was no reason why a different kind of fun couldn’t begin. I raised my chin to kiss him, and he accepted it with an even deeper kiss of his own, his mouth and skin tasting so delicious, it sent a wave of warmth into my panties.
“Who said you wouldn’t be getting a blow job?” I asked, my fingers on his zipper.