Mended
Page 5
“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming tonight. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Damon Wolf, head of Sheep Industries,” he says from the front of the room, flashing a fake smile. He’s wearing an expensive suit with a tie and has swapped his sunglasses for matching glasses with clear lenses. The crowd claps as he pauses, and Ivy holds her arms up high, clapping with a pride that guts me. I scan the room and see River and Dahlia talking to Garrett. Ivy’s eyes flick between the stage and the parquet floor beneath us. Her eyes go dull—there’s not an ounce of admiration in them as she looks at him. But when she also doesn’t look back toward me, I walk away.
The announcement was just as I thought—his father’s company had bought Jane’s label. At least, by the looks of it, her label is one company he doesn’t plan to dismantle. Most of the bands it holds are solid and their dynamics seem to work the charts well together. River, Dahlia, Amy, and I leave shortly after the announcement and head to my brother’s suite to discuss the tour, but there’s more than just the tour on my mind. I can’t wrap my head around Ivy being with Damon. Watching them function as a couple killed me. I knew they were engaged, but seeing them together is like one of my worst nightmares and just makes it all the more real. Every time I saw him touch her today it set my insides on fire—it was unbearable, intolerable, and I knew that if I stayed, I was going to have to drop him.
• • •
It’s five eleven a.m. and before I brush my teeth or take a leak, I roll over and snag my laptop from the nightstand to read what everyone on Facebook and Twitter has to say about the band and its lead singer. Surprisingly, not much, and I’m thankful. I want to wait to announce anything until after tonight. Before I close out, I search Ivy’s name. Why, I don’t know. She has a Twitter account but hasn’t tweeted since her engagement announcement. Hmmm . . . I wonder why.
Amy wakes up and sleepily looks over at me. The computer screen’s glow is the only light in the room. “What are you doing?”
“Hey, go back to sleep. I just need to send a few e-mails to Ena so she can get River and Dahlia set up for the tour.” I lie because I don’t want to tell her I’m stalking my ex-girlfriend and because I shouldn’t be thinking of Ivy when Amy is lying in bed next to me.
She rolls over and I set my laptop down and get out of bed. Once I’ve done a quick workout in the hotel gym, I head back to my room and hit the shower. I turn on only the hot water and let the steam fill the bathroom. Rubbing my eyes, I lean against the cool marble and think about Ivy—about how I didn’t realize how much a part of my life she was and how much I have really missed her. When I’m done, I head out to the living area and turn the TV on to find something mindless to watch. I’m slurping down my coffee when Amy joins me.
“Did they win?” she asks, pointing at the replay of the Brooklyn Nets game on the screen.
I nod. “Ninety-eight to eighty-five over the Lakers. It sucks, but I have to say the Nets have the best music sound bites in their game, so I watch them over and over.”
She laughs. “Only you would notice something like that.”
“I might even consider trading teams just to get one of our songs boomed over the PA as Johnson races toward the basket.”
“Are you serious? That music isn’t just prerecorded crap on replay?”
“No. Not at a Nets game, anyway. A guy named Period sits on the platform and punctuates games with amped remixes. It’s like he’s deejaying every game. It’s genius.”
“Well, you sold me,” she says, flopping down in a chair and pouring a cup of coffee.
“What’s your plan for the day?” I ask her. Today is pretty much a down day. I want to avoid the calls about Zane until after tonight’s show, and the guys are doing their own thing during the day. We’ll meet up for a short rehearsal before the show later tonight, so I’m up for whatever until then.
“I have to shower first. I tried to join you earlier, but the door was locked.”
I blow off her comment with a partial truth. “Sorry, a bus habit. I didn’t even realize I locked it. So, thoughts for after your shower?”
“I need to cut out by noon, but I wouldn’t mind lounging by the pool for a few hours first.”
“Sounds like a plan. We’ll eat some breakfast and head out there when you’re ready.”
“Pancakes?” she asks with a grin.
I shake my head no. That’s the one food I never eat—Ivy always made me pancakes. “Waffles sound great,” I respond.
I’m relieved that she’s leaving soon but feeling guilty that my mind has been consumed with Ivy. What the hell is wrong with me? I need to stop overthinking this. Amy and I have always been casual. Everything is cool between us.
After breakfast we’re sitting by the pool when Ivy and Damon set up a few cabanas over. I glance at Ivy, then study her. I know I shouldn’t, especially with Amy lying next to me in her skimpy green polka-dot bathing suit, but I can’t help it. Ivy looks amazing in a red bikini—seeing her makes my body ache. Her hair’s down and falls freely around her chin, making the angles of her heart-shaped face less pronounced—softer, not harder, even more beautiful. As she sits down, her head snaps in my direction. She squints and must see that I’m staring. I don’t care.
Damon follows Ivy’s glare and my eyes cut from hers to his. His expression goes dark, as he seems to recognize me. Does he know me? Or does he sense what Ivy and I have—had? He sneers at her, and I swear if I could bury him with just a look I would. He sits down on her chaise longue and pulls her to him, kissing her. Tension flows through my veins until she pulls away. He moves closer, speaking with animated gestures. Her facial expression signals that she’s not happy. My body goes rigid as I’m forced to watch this arrogant son of a bitch’s attempt to tame a girl who should never be tamed.
He practically f**ks her with his eyes, and I squeeze my fists at my sides, resisting the urge to smash his face in. Ivy pulls her robe out of her bag and wraps it around herself. For some reason this helps ease my rage. Then suddenly he stands up and snatches hold of her elbow, pulling her out of the chair. I stand up as well. She snaps at him and steps back, but he grasps her shoulders. A smirk spreads across his face as he presses himself against her. The vulgarity of his actions hits me like a punch. She whispers something in his ear, and he drops his hold but doesn’t surrender. He touches his fingers to her cheek and tilts her head toward him. As if to make a point, he slides his hands down and unties her robe, his gaze lazily scanning her body before shifting over to me. I know what the ass**le is doing—he’s demonstrating to me that she’s his. He obviously feels the need to antagonize me further by running his hands down her h*ps and slipping his fingers inside her bathing suit bottom. My stomach twists. She flinches, then gathers her things and walks away. But he quickly catches up to her.
At the sight of his seemingly aggressive behavior, I have to fight the urge to go over there and sock him, but my chance is lost when they both exit the pool area. My frustration and aggravation are surpassed only by my concern. I try to hold back my rage—how dare he touch her like that, look at her like that? With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I slip on my T-shirt.
Amy glances at me. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back. I’m going to run up and see why my brother isn’t down here yet.”
She giggles. “Have fun with that.” I just shake my head. I know why he’s not down here, and I’m not really going to his room. I promised myself that if he did this for me—made the decision to help us out—I’d cut him some slack.
I don’t know where I’m going, but my anger toward that arrogant ass**le has already taken hold. She might not be mine, but that doesn’t mean anything right now. I follow their path through the grotto and try to talk myself down, because I know where this is leading. With my fists balling at my sides, I can hardly control myself. When I turn the corner at a rapid pace, her stormy blue eyes slam into mine. For the briefest of moments, I stop in my tracks. My stomach lurches at the sight of what he did. There she is—my angel—with blood dripping from her lip and tears streaming down her face.
I rush over to her. “Ivy—” I whisper, my voice catching on her name. I take her face in my hands. Pulling my T-shirt up, I wipe the blood from her lip and blot the tears from her cheeks. “Are you all right?” I ask finally, filling the silence of the last twelve years between us.
For a few moments she lets me take care of her—like she used to. Then she blinks as if remembering that this is not then. She presses her lips together, but her scrutiny doesn’t waver from me as she pushes me back. I reach to help her, but she shrugs my hand away. “I don’t need your help,” she says forcefully. Her voice getting higher with every word, she unleashes what I can only assume to be years of pent-up anger at me. “I can take care of myself.”
I don’t blink. “Did he hit you? Does he hit you?”
She shakes her head, sadness mingling with determination on her face. “That’s none of your business. Leave it alone, Xander. I mean it.”
I reach for her face, my fingers brushing her cheek. “Tell me the truth. Does he hit you?”
“No, he doesn’t. Do you think I’d be with someone who does? Men with loose fists and men who cheat—they’re grown from the same mold and they can both go f**k themselves.”
She stares at me for the longest time and without another word she storms away—cold, guarded, and angry. The girl I knew with the hard exterior, but so fragile and sensitive, appears to be gone. Now she’s all hard edges, and she’s pissed as hell—at that ass**le, and at me.
CHAPTER 3
Under the Water
Listening to the beat, I can feel the strum of each chord in my chest, and my ears ring and my heart pounds as the green, yellow, and red fluorescent lights illuminate the stage and the darkness cascades above us. A feeling of relief takes hold of me. They’re almost done—they did it. My throat might be dry, and I’m out of breath from yelling, but I don’t care. Tonight they did it old-school and they killed it. No opening act, no fire, no smoke, no extras—just the Wilde Ones onstage at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater.
River’s certainly not planning on jumping back into doing another nine months in the studio, but my brother is in top form right now as he sings the last song of the night. In an “I’m in love croon,” with his six-string standing in for the synths and bludgeoning rhythms of the produced track, River gives “Once in a Lifetime” all he has. His raspy, soulful tone stands out as he sings the ballad acoustic style to his wife. The unplugged version is making the fans go crazy. Cheers and yells come from behind me and I feel like I’m part of the audience tonight.
I’m not backstage like I usually am. Instead I’m standing with Dahlia in the VIP section. She and River are staring straight at each other. Their connection seems to be pulling out all he has. And I have to say, her good mood has definitely rubbed off on me. Despite the events of the last two days, I’m having the best time I’ve had since the tour began. It’s just her and me and a select dozen or so other people in the roped-off orchestra section, and it’s been a blast. My cousin Jagger and his girl, Aerie, are here somewhere. Jagger arrived in town after I hit the road, so I never got to catch up with him. But I’ve talked to him on the phone a number of times and finally got to meet him before the show. So strange having a cousin you’ve never met, but when you live so many miles apart for most of your lives, I guess it happens. Jagger and Aerie together, though—that still makes me laugh. She’s so uptight and he, well, I don’t know him that well, but I’d say he’s anything but. He seems to be a lot like River. I invited them to join us up here, but Aerie was in full-on work mode and wanted to be out in the crowd, interviewing people. She said she’d catch up with us after the show. Unfortunately, my mother and stepfather, Jack, are in Paris, so they couldn’t be here. And my sister, Bell, had to work. She just recently started her own event-planning business in addition to keeping her day job, so catching up with her lately has been hard. But she seems to have found her place in this world. She’s happier and more put together.
Dahlia nudges me. “Hey, you watching? You seem someplace else.”
The show ends with crazed fans screaming at the top of their lungs for an encore. “More! We want more! Give us more!”
I give her a look as if to say, “Where else would I be?” but her attention is riveted on the stage again at the sound of my brother’s voice. River smiles at the crowd and catches us in his vision as he slips the microphone out of the stand. “More? You want more?”
Their response comes in unison. “Yes!”
He hits the edge of the stage and drags his fingertips along Dahlia’s outstretched hands. “I think we can do that.” He finds the microphone stand again and clips it in place.
Dahlia leans over to me. “I really have to use the restroom. I don’t think I can wait.”
I laugh and nod my head. “Come on. I’ll take you backstage now.” It’s my job to be her personal bodyguard tonight, and actually I don’t mind it. It obviously puts my brother at ease, and my sister-in-law and I get along really well now, after a bumpy start. Turns out she is exactly four months pregnant. She and River have decided not to find out the sex of the baby, but she showed me an ultrasound picture and the baby was sucking his thumb. I have to believe it’s a boy, for River’s sake, because another girl in his life to watch over just might push him over the edge. The thought makes me laugh, though.
The announcement was just as I thought—his father’s company had bought Jane’s label. At least, by the looks of it, her label is one company he doesn’t plan to dismantle. Most of the bands it holds are solid and their dynamics seem to work the charts well together. River, Dahlia, Amy, and I leave shortly after the announcement and head to my brother’s suite to discuss the tour, but there’s more than just the tour on my mind. I can’t wrap my head around Ivy being with Damon. Watching them function as a couple killed me. I knew they were engaged, but seeing them together is like one of my worst nightmares and just makes it all the more real. Every time I saw him touch her today it set my insides on fire—it was unbearable, intolerable, and I knew that if I stayed, I was going to have to drop him.
• • •
It’s five eleven a.m. and before I brush my teeth or take a leak, I roll over and snag my laptop from the nightstand to read what everyone on Facebook and Twitter has to say about the band and its lead singer. Surprisingly, not much, and I’m thankful. I want to wait to announce anything until after tonight. Before I close out, I search Ivy’s name. Why, I don’t know. She has a Twitter account but hasn’t tweeted since her engagement announcement. Hmmm . . . I wonder why.
Amy wakes up and sleepily looks over at me. The computer screen’s glow is the only light in the room. “What are you doing?”
“Hey, go back to sleep. I just need to send a few e-mails to Ena so she can get River and Dahlia set up for the tour.” I lie because I don’t want to tell her I’m stalking my ex-girlfriend and because I shouldn’t be thinking of Ivy when Amy is lying in bed next to me.
She rolls over and I set my laptop down and get out of bed. Once I’ve done a quick workout in the hotel gym, I head back to my room and hit the shower. I turn on only the hot water and let the steam fill the bathroom. Rubbing my eyes, I lean against the cool marble and think about Ivy—about how I didn’t realize how much a part of my life she was and how much I have really missed her. When I’m done, I head out to the living area and turn the TV on to find something mindless to watch. I’m slurping down my coffee when Amy joins me.
“Did they win?” she asks, pointing at the replay of the Brooklyn Nets game on the screen.
I nod. “Ninety-eight to eighty-five over the Lakers. It sucks, but I have to say the Nets have the best music sound bites in their game, so I watch them over and over.”
She laughs. “Only you would notice something like that.”
“I might even consider trading teams just to get one of our songs boomed over the PA as Johnson races toward the basket.”
“Are you serious? That music isn’t just prerecorded crap on replay?”
“No. Not at a Nets game, anyway. A guy named Period sits on the platform and punctuates games with amped remixes. It’s like he’s deejaying every game. It’s genius.”
“Well, you sold me,” she says, flopping down in a chair and pouring a cup of coffee.
“What’s your plan for the day?” I ask her. Today is pretty much a down day. I want to avoid the calls about Zane until after tonight’s show, and the guys are doing their own thing during the day. We’ll meet up for a short rehearsal before the show later tonight, so I’m up for whatever until then.
“I have to shower first. I tried to join you earlier, but the door was locked.”
I blow off her comment with a partial truth. “Sorry, a bus habit. I didn’t even realize I locked it. So, thoughts for after your shower?”
“I need to cut out by noon, but I wouldn’t mind lounging by the pool for a few hours first.”
“Sounds like a plan. We’ll eat some breakfast and head out there when you’re ready.”
“Pancakes?” she asks with a grin.
I shake my head no. That’s the one food I never eat—Ivy always made me pancakes. “Waffles sound great,” I respond.
I’m relieved that she’s leaving soon but feeling guilty that my mind has been consumed with Ivy. What the hell is wrong with me? I need to stop overthinking this. Amy and I have always been casual. Everything is cool between us.
After breakfast we’re sitting by the pool when Ivy and Damon set up a few cabanas over. I glance at Ivy, then study her. I know I shouldn’t, especially with Amy lying next to me in her skimpy green polka-dot bathing suit, but I can’t help it. Ivy looks amazing in a red bikini—seeing her makes my body ache. Her hair’s down and falls freely around her chin, making the angles of her heart-shaped face less pronounced—softer, not harder, even more beautiful. As she sits down, her head snaps in my direction. She squints and must see that I’m staring. I don’t care.
Damon follows Ivy’s glare and my eyes cut from hers to his. His expression goes dark, as he seems to recognize me. Does he know me? Or does he sense what Ivy and I have—had? He sneers at her, and I swear if I could bury him with just a look I would. He sits down on her chaise longue and pulls her to him, kissing her. Tension flows through my veins until she pulls away. He moves closer, speaking with animated gestures. Her facial expression signals that she’s not happy. My body goes rigid as I’m forced to watch this arrogant son of a bitch’s attempt to tame a girl who should never be tamed.
He practically f**ks her with his eyes, and I squeeze my fists at my sides, resisting the urge to smash his face in. Ivy pulls her robe out of her bag and wraps it around herself. For some reason this helps ease my rage. Then suddenly he stands up and snatches hold of her elbow, pulling her out of the chair. I stand up as well. She snaps at him and steps back, but he grasps her shoulders. A smirk spreads across his face as he presses himself against her. The vulgarity of his actions hits me like a punch. She whispers something in his ear, and he drops his hold but doesn’t surrender. He touches his fingers to her cheek and tilts her head toward him. As if to make a point, he slides his hands down and unties her robe, his gaze lazily scanning her body before shifting over to me. I know what the ass**le is doing—he’s demonstrating to me that she’s his. He obviously feels the need to antagonize me further by running his hands down her h*ps and slipping his fingers inside her bathing suit bottom. My stomach twists. She flinches, then gathers her things and walks away. But he quickly catches up to her.
At the sight of his seemingly aggressive behavior, I have to fight the urge to go over there and sock him, but my chance is lost when they both exit the pool area. My frustration and aggravation are surpassed only by my concern. I try to hold back my rage—how dare he touch her like that, look at her like that? With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I slip on my T-shirt.
Amy glances at me. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back. I’m going to run up and see why my brother isn’t down here yet.”
She giggles. “Have fun with that.” I just shake my head. I know why he’s not down here, and I’m not really going to his room. I promised myself that if he did this for me—made the decision to help us out—I’d cut him some slack.
I don’t know where I’m going, but my anger toward that arrogant ass**le has already taken hold. She might not be mine, but that doesn’t mean anything right now. I follow their path through the grotto and try to talk myself down, because I know where this is leading. With my fists balling at my sides, I can hardly control myself. When I turn the corner at a rapid pace, her stormy blue eyes slam into mine. For the briefest of moments, I stop in my tracks. My stomach lurches at the sight of what he did. There she is—my angel—with blood dripping from her lip and tears streaming down her face.
I rush over to her. “Ivy—” I whisper, my voice catching on her name. I take her face in my hands. Pulling my T-shirt up, I wipe the blood from her lip and blot the tears from her cheeks. “Are you all right?” I ask finally, filling the silence of the last twelve years between us.
For a few moments she lets me take care of her—like she used to. Then she blinks as if remembering that this is not then. She presses her lips together, but her scrutiny doesn’t waver from me as she pushes me back. I reach to help her, but she shrugs my hand away. “I don’t need your help,” she says forcefully. Her voice getting higher with every word, she unleashes what I can only assume to be years of pent-up anger at me. “I can take care of myself.”
I don’t blink. “Did he hit you? Does he hit you?”
She shakes her head, sadness mingling with determination on her face. “That’s none of your business. Leave it alone, Xander. I mean it.”
I reach for her face, my fingers brushing her cheek. “Tell me the truth. Does he hit you?”
“No, he doesn’t. Do you think I’d be with someone who does? Men with loose fists and men who cheat—they’re grown from the same mold and they can both go f**k themselves.”
She stares at me for the longest time and without another word she storms away—cold, guarded, and angry. The girl I knew with the hard exterior, but so fragile and sensitive, appears to be gone. Now she’s all hard edges, and she’s pissed as hell—at that ass**le, and at me.
CHAPTER 3
Under the Water
Listening to the beat, I can feel the strum of each chord in my chest, and my ears ring and my heart pounds as the green, yellow, and red fluorescent lights illuminate the stage and the darkness cascades above us. A feeling of relief takes hold of me. They’re almost done—they did it. My throat might be dry, and I’m out of breath from yelling, but I don’t care. Tonight they did it old-school and they killed it. No opening act, no fire, no smoke, no extras—just the Wilde Ones onstage at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater.
River’s certainly not planning on jumping back into doing another nine months in the studio, but my brother is in top form right now as he sings the last song of the night. In an “I’m in love croon,” with his six-string standing in for the synths and bludgeoning rhythms of the produced track, River gives “Once in a Lifetime” all he has. His raspy, soulful tone stands out as he sings the ballad acoustic style to his wife. The unplugged version is making the fans go crazy. Cheers and yells come from behind me and I feel like I’m part of the audience tonight.
I’m not backstage like I usually am. Instead I’m standing with Dahlia in the VIP section. She and River are staring straight at each other. Their connection seems to be pulling out all he has. And I have to say, her good mood has definitely rubbed off on me. Despite the events of the last two days, I’m having the best time I’ve had since the tour began. It’s just her and me and a select dozen or so other people in the roped-off orchestra section, and it’s been a blast. My cousin Jagger and his girl, Aerie, are here somewhere. Jagger arrived in town after I hit the road, so I never got to catch up with him. But I’ve talked to him on the phone a number of times and finally got to meet him before the show. So strange having a cousin you’ve never met, but when you live so many miles apart for most of your lives, I guess it happens. Jagger and Aerie together, though—that still makes me laugh. She’s so uptight and he, well, I don’t know him that well, but I’d say he’s anything but. He seems to be a lot like River. I invited them to join us up here, but Aerie was in full-on work mode and wanted to be out in the crowd, interviewing people. She said she’d catch up with us after the show. Unfortunately, my mother and stepfather, Jack, are in Paris, so they couldn’t be here. And my sister, Bell, had to work. She just recently started her own event-planning business in addition to keeping her day job, so catching up with her lately has been hard. But she seems to have found her place in this world. She’s happier and more put together.
Dahlia nudges me. “Hey, you watching? You seem someplace else.”
The show ends with crazed fans screaming at the top of their lungs for an encore. “More! We want more! Give us more!”
I give her a look as if to say, “Where else would I be?” but her attention is riveted on the stage again at the sound of my brother’s voice. River smiles at the crowd and catches us in his vision as he slips the microphone out of the stand. “More? You want more?”
Their response comes in unison. “Yes!”
He hits the edge of the stage and drags his fingertips along Dahlia’s outstretched hands. “I think we can do that.” He finds the microphone stand again and clips it in place.
Dahlia leans over to me. “I really have to use the restroom. I don’t think I can wait.”
I laugh and nod my head. “Come on. I’ll take you backstage now.” It’s my job to be her personal bodyguard tonight, and actually I don’t mind it. It obviously puts my brother at ease, and my sister-in-law and I get along really well now, after a bumpy start. Turns out she is exactly four months pregnant. She and River have decided not to find out the sex of the baby, but she showed me an ultrasound picture and the baby was sucking his thumb. I have to believe it’s a boy, for River’s sake, because another girl in his life to watch over just might push him over the edge. The thought makes me laugh, though.
