“Hell of a fucking coincidence,” said Jim, adding more baked salmon and broccoli to Lena’s plate.
“Thanks, babe.” She dove right in.
It was beautiful, the way he way he paid such keen attention to her. The woman was clearly his world. Lena had no sooner looked at something than he was serving it up. She shifted in her seat and he ran for more cushions. A queen couldn’t have been treated better. The love in her eyes and the soft smiles every time she looked at him made my heart ache. It was an intense love, so open and honest. Every love, every relationship, was different. And no way could anyone who wasn’t on the inside understand how that couple worked. Let people judge. People didn’t know shit. Shoot. At any rate, I didn’t need to be the center of Ben’s world. But I knew me. I did need to be up there, vying for top position with his music, having his trust.
One day Ben and I would get there. Without a doubt.
Each of the Stage Dive couples was pretty much variations of the same. Maybe that’s the way musicians and artists loved, how they committed. All or nothing. They were in touch with their passions, so those passions tended to run large through their lives.
We’d all attended the concert tonight to hear the first performance of one of the band’s new songs. Not a slow love song, though there’d been a lot of love in it. More of a hot, raw, rock ’n’ roll, doing-my-girl-makes-me-pretty-damn-happy kind of thing. A little awkward when you knew the guy and girl in question. David did like to write songs about his wife, and damn he did it well. The crowd had gone wild.
Yesterday we’d had a day off. Given that the news of my whorish money-making scheme had hit the papers just the day before, Ben and I had stayed in. It’d been nice. We’d slept until ten and had a late breakfast in bed. I’d even bravely dealt with all the missed calls from my mom. There’d been some yelling and tears on her part. A fair amount of what would the neighbors think. Thing was, my mom checked out of my life a long time ago, to Anne’s and my detriment. That I permitted her back in at all was sort of a miracle. Her opinion on my life was not required. I let her carry on for five minutes exactly and then told her I had to go and hung up. My life currently held enough drama without her getting involved. I didn’t want to hurt her, but nor would I allow myself to be hurt by her. The end.
Ben and I watched movies and caught up on some sexing. In the afternoon a plethora of boxes and bags from places like A Pea in the Pod, Neiman Marcus, and some boutique called Veronique arrived. All the maternity wear and then some. I didn’t dare ask what it cost. Ben gave me the Look. What with now being in a relationship and having my own Look, signifying a line which should not be crossed, I respected his need to support me and Bean and wisely let it go. At seventeen weeks, I looked rockin’ good that night in my maternity jeans and black tunic, both of which actually fit for a change.
But back to the dinner conversation.
“Marty can definitely be rabid when she puts her mind to it,” said Mal, his arm slung around the back of Anne’s chair. “Wouldn’t have thought she’d sic the press on someone, but like Jim said, hell of a coincidence, timingwise, for the story to break the day after her visit.”
We sat gathered around a big mahogany dining table in David and Ev’s suite, sharing an extravagant dinner. The chefs in these places knew their stuff. Foodgasms galore.
“I don’t buy it.” David sat back, fingers pinching his lips. “She knows that’d only lead to them being all over Ben too. For all her faults, she loves her brother. No way she’d do anything again to directly fuck with him.”
“She didn’t do it.” Ben remained adamant. And rather peeved, if the furrows on his forehead and sliver-thin lips were any indication.
I put my hand on his leg, gave him a small smile. Frankly, I wouldn’t put anything past the crazy-ass bitch. Right now, though, Ben needed me on his side. With next to no evidence, I’d be cautious but I wouldn’t damn her just yet. Nor would I be letting her near me, however. “What does it even matter who did it? It’s done.”
My sister gave me a long, assessing look.
“It was bound to come out sooner or later, especially with us on tour,” said Anne, taking my back. “God knows how many different people have seen her coming in and out of Ben’s suite, or just seen them together in general. And she’s showing now. It wouldn’t take much to put two and two together. There’d be big money up for grabs for a story like that. Especially once they had the right pic to sell it.”
“Exactly. I doubt the girl will be throwing me a baby shower anytime soon. But let’s not assume the worst until we know more.”
Ben gave my hand a squeeze of appreciation.
“Pumpkin’s right. It was bound to get out. Fact is, we’ll probably never know who the helpful little shithead was who ratted Lizzy out.” Mal swirled a glass of red wine before downing it in one fell swoop. “Let’s just enjoy our night off.”
Various nods and murmurs of agreement. Thank goodness.
“Hear Down Fourth are breaking up after the tour,” said Ben, one hand holding mine and the other holding a beer.
“No shit?” Jim hand-fed Lena a chocolate-covered strawberry.
“Keep that up I’ll be as big as a house,” she said after swallowing it down.
“Making babies takes a lot of energy.”
“Lead singer got offered a solo deal and their drummer’s moving on to Ninety-Nine,” continued Ben.
“Hard on Vaughan and Conn,” said David.
“Nature of the business. Some bands are just pit stops on the way to other things. Surprising, though. They’ve been together a long time.” Mal beat out a rhythm with thumb and forefinger on the table. “Vaughan’s actually a damn good guitarist with not a bad voice. Heard him messing around the other night. Think he just got stuck playing bass for them. Might be a chance for him to trade up.”
“Nothing wrong with bass,” said Ben, giving the drummer a foul look.
“Be fair, Benny-boy. There’s nothing right with it, either.” Mal grinned. “Is it true bass players can’t count past four?”
“Says the dickhead that can barely hold two sticks.”
“Enough,” said David, raising his chin. “The girls wanted a nice dinner, with no arguing for a change.”
“A noble dream,” chuckled Mal. “Seriously though, bands breaking up happens all the time. Takes a fair amount to put up with the same people day in, day out.”
“This your way of saying you’re out?” asked Jim, smirk in place.
“Damn, man,” said Ben with a straight face. “We’ll miss you and shit.”
“Wait, what was your name again?” asked David, scratching his head.
Mal gave them all the bird. “Ha-ha. You useless fuckers. You’d be lost without me.”
David lobbed a bread roll at the drummer’s head.
“No,” shouted Ev. “No food fights. We’re behaving like adults for once. Stop it.”
“Way to be the fun police, child bride,” chided Mal, setting a profiterole back on his plate.
A waiter in a fancy suit stepped into the room, carrying a silver platter with a single white-frosted cupcake sitting in the middle. He stopped beside Lena and with great pomp and pageantry offered her the dessert.
“What is this?” she asked Jimmy, pointing at the cake like it was toxic. “We talked about this.”
“Yeah, and I disagreed.”
“You don’t get to disagree.” A distinct little line appeared above her nose. “You asked, I said no. End of discussion.”
Clear blue eyes unimpressed, the man sat back in his seat, propping his ankle on his knee. “Sure I do. Put on the ring, Lena.”
Crap, he was right. I don’t know how I’d missed it. But there was an almighty chunk of bling sitting in pride of place on top of the cupcake. Holy hell, it would have made Liz Taylor weep with envy.
Lena narrowed her eyes on the man. “I said no. I still say no.”
“No worries, babe. You don’t want to get married, we won’t get married. But you’re still wearing the ring.”
“Why? Why is this so important to you?” she asked, mouth drawn in frustration. Or maybe she too was slightly astounded by the size of the rock. And I’d thought Anne’s and Ev’s rings were huge. This one bordered on accidental-eye-gouging ridiculousness.
“’Cause you’re mine, and I’m yours. And I want that clear to everyone.” Jimmy sat forward, staring her down. “I love you, Lena. Put on the fucking ring.”
“Put on the fucking ring,” she mumbled, doing an apt impersonation of the man. In a discreet show of emotion, the very pregnant brunette sniffed. “Honestly. You didn’t even say ‘please.’”
Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Please.”
“Fine,” she grouched, plucking the rock out of the cake and sucking off the icing. Then she slid the massive diamond onto her ring finger. “I’ll wear the stupid thing. But we are not getting married. I don’t care what you say. We’ve barely known each other half a year.”
“Whatever you want, Lena.”
She snorted. “Yeah right.”
There was a stunned sort of silence around the table as Jimmy sucked down some mineral water and Lena got on with eating the little cake. Like nothing had happened.
Finally, David Ferris cleared his throat. “Did you two actually just get engaged?”
Lena shrugged.
“Yeah. Pretty much,” said Jimmy.
Barely holding back a laugh, Ben raised his beer. “Congratulations, guys.”
I, David, Mal, and Anne likewise raised drinks in salute. With a gasp, Ev clasped her hands to her mouth, eyes glossy with emotion.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” said Lena. “It’s just a ring. The way I’m retaining fluid, it won’t even fit me by next week.”
Jimmy rolled up the cuffs on his fitted white shirt. “No worries. I got you a nice matching chain necklace for you to wear it on.”
“You do think of everything.”
“Anything for you, Lena.”
She gave him a dry look.
“What about you two?” asked Mal, tipping his freshly refilled glass of wine in Ben’s and my direction.
“You’re the only one left now,” said David, his amused gaze on Ben.
My boyfriend shifted in his seat, letting go of my hand. He licked his lips and fussed some more, clearly uncomfortable with all of the attention. Fair enough. We’d been dating for like two of the seventeen weeks I’d been pregnant. We’d known each other for only a few months before the miraculous conception. Now was definitely not the time to put on the pressure and rush into marriage.
“Don’t know if I’m really the marrying kind,” he said with a deep, not so humorous laugh.
Shit.
Every eye in the place apart from his turned to me, waiting on my reaction. Of all the things for him to say, the hundred and one ways to put off the question. God, laughing at it alone would have done the trick. I kept my gaze down, concentrating on my mostly empty plate. My stomach clenched, a weird, wiggling, vaguely nauseous sensation rising up inside. Meanwhile, you couldn’t have found a more profound silence in a church.
The ringing of Ben’s cell broke the quiet. He answered it with a manly grunt. Did I even want to marry someone who answered the phone with a grunt? I don’t know. And apparently I’d never need to decide. He wasn’t the marrying kind. All of a sudden the safety I’d found with him felt precarious indeed. The ledge that was our relationship had begun crumbling beneath my feet.
“Yeah … sure, send her in.” He turned to me, sounding relieved to change the subject. “Ah, Martha’s here. She wants to apologize to you for the other day.”
I just looked at him.
“That’s all right, isn’t it?” he asked, obviously referring to his sister. Sadly, I was still stuck back on his awesome announcement.
The door opened and the woman herself walked in, head held high and a big black patent leather handbag slung over one shoulder. A brief flash of pain crossed her face at the sight of David, her nose wrinkled at Ev.
Ben pushed back out of his chair and stood, going to her side.
“Make it good,” he ordered in a low voice.
As if I had any interest in an apology, good or otherwise, from this woman.
Ben’s words twirled around and around inside my head. We’d never even talked marriage, not really. I guess the fairy tales had been playing out in the back of my head, though, the usual fantasies of tulle, silk, and eternal love. The odd dove or two. Cake.
Yeah. Not so much, apparently. I needed to leave right now. Go be alone for a while until I had things figured out again, now that my bright shiny future had been flushed down the toilet.
Martha retrieved a couple of papers from her handbag and shoved them in my general direction. “You want me to believe you’re not just using my brother and this child to make some money? Prove it to me. Sign this.”
The whites of Ben’s eyes were huge, massive. “Martha—”
“What is that?” I asked, the noise of my voice coming from far, far away.
“It’s the contract he had drawn up, covering shared custody and a more than fair payment for maintenance—upon proof of paternity, of course,” she answered.
“Of course.”
“Shouldn’t be a big deal for you to sign.” She took another step forward, still holding out the papers. “Your own sister signed a prenup. Did you know that?”
“It’s what Anne wanted. You’ve got no fucking business talking about that, Marty.” Mal slowly got to his feet, a hand on my sister’s shoulder. “And I am very unhappy at Adrian for discussing that shit with you.”
“He didn’t.” The snake of a woman sneered. “But his new little secretary is very chatty. Not the brightest, though, unfortunately for her.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” said David. “Now, Martha.”
“Doesn’t concern you,” she said without sparing him a glance. Still looking at me, she continued, “You want to prove to me that you love my brother? That you have his best interests at heart? Sign it.”
I just stared at the papers, perplexed.
“Martha!” David kicked back his chair.
“When?” I asked Ben, doing my best to meet his eyes, but not quite managing. I stared off over his thick shoulder at the lights of the city below. It was all just too raw, too painful. “You agreed we’d handle this between us not twenty-four hours after you found out I was pregnant. So when exactly did you ask for this contract to be drawn up?”
He stared at me, unmoving.
“Let me guess. You had it drawn up ‘just in case’?”
“Lizzy.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Did you think I wouldn’t understand your need to protect yourself?”
“You didn’t like the idea when I first brought it up.”
“I barely had a chance to get used to the idea,” I cried. “Christ, Ben. Most people would be a little wary at the mention of having lawyers sicced on them, don’t you think?”
“What’s it matter?” he asked, jaw shifting angrily. “I haven’t asked you to sign it.”
“Don’t play stupid with her, Ben,” Martha sneered. “Adrian sent you a copy weeks ago. His little secretary said he asked her to double check that you still had it last week. He was wondering what the holdup is.”
Ben glared furiously at Martha, but he didn’t deny it.
“Just in case.” I wrapped my arms around myself, holding on tight. “Why are we even doing this? I mean really. You lied to me, Ben. You’re just waiting for this to fall to apart, aren’t you? You’re not the marrying kind? Honestly, I don’t even know that you’re the relationship kind. In a lot of ways you’ve avoided commitment at every step. I was just too stupid to see.”
“Check it out, Ben,” said Martha, voice low and hypnotic. “This is what happens when you threaten their money. The claws come out and you find out what they were up to all along.” She turned on me. “So go on then. Storm out and lawyer up all you want—but everyone here has seen you for what you really are now.”
“God, you…” There weren’t words bad enough for this sort of bitch. I snatched the contract from her hands, slapping it down on the table. It was surprisingly slim, only three or so pages. “Pen!”
Martha hunted through her handbag for one.
“Don’t,” Ben said, pushing the word out through gritted teeth.
I grabbed the pen Martha was offering. Funny, there was none of the triumph or venom remaining on her face now. If anything, her gaze seemed confused, cautious. Like I could care. This had nothing do with her anymore.
I moved my dinner plate aside and flipped through the papers, finding the big, juicy number meant to buy me off. Fuck’s sake, he’d already put half a million into my bank account. How ridiculous. Without hesitation I scribbled out the number and wrote in a big fat zero. Then I read through it, doing a check on the custody and other assorted details. As promised, Bean would be shared evenly between the two of us. Any disputes would be sorted out in family court, in the event of mediation failing. Good. It all seemed standard.
There. Signed and done.
If they needed anything else they could catch up with me later. At a mutually beneficial time when I wasn’t about to have a messy emotional breakdown, possibly involving puking my guts up.
His sister snatched up the contract, hurriedly examining it.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d give me an hour to remove my belongings from the room before returning to it,” I told Ben, not even bothering with the pretense of facing him this time.
“We need to talk,” he said. “Liz.”
“You signed it,” Martha said. “You even crossed out the money.” The look on his bitch of a sister’s face would have been hilarious had I not been in the middle of getting my heart broken. Her brows might never return to normal, they’d risen so high on her perfect forehead.
“I don’t give a fuck about the contract,” Ben snarled, grabbing hold of my arm.
“If you didn’t give a fuck about the contract, then it wouldn’t exist.” I tugged my arm from his grasp. “You sure as hell wouldn’t be carrying a copy of it around with you.”
“Sweetheart—”
“No. Never again. I’m never … ever … going through this with you again.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t feel too bad about it, Ben. You did warn me, after all. I was just stupid enough to believe that maybe I could matter to you as much as you do to me. My bad.”
Still, Martha stared at the papers, stunned.
“You do matter to me,” he said, breathing hard.
“But not enough. Not enough to be honest with me. Not enough to talk to me about this, about your fears … God, did you really think I would be like her?” I pointed a thumb at his abomination of a sister. “That I would cheat? Lie? Use you for money time and again, messing with your life?”
“I love my brother,” Martha shouted.
“You shut your god damn mouth!” Tears poured down my face. I was beyond caring, really. Beyond everything. I rested my hand on my belly, feeling that strange stirring sensation within again. Bean apparently didn’t care for shouting. I lowered my voice accordingly. “I will deal with you when I am good and ready.”
Martha shut it, face still stunned.
“I was never trying to change you,” I said, finding my last ounce of bravery and staring Ben in the face. “I just wanted some of your time, your attention. I wanted to be a part of what you love.”
Dark eyes gave me nothing but grief.
“You’ve got another six or so weeks on tour. I don’t want to hear from you during that time,” I said, turning away. “I’ll make sure any medical updates are forwarded to you. Otherwise … I just … I need a break. From all of this.”
“You’re going back to Portland?” he asked, obviously unhappy. His man-feelings had been hurt. Too bad.
“Yes.”
As expected, Anne opened her mouth, rising to her feet. She’d have my back, of course she would. But I halted her with a hand. “Later.”
She nodded.
I turned toward Martha, tamping down the need to beat her with the nearest solid object. “I don’t have much family, and sadly, your brother seems all too willing to tolerate your borderline personality disorder. But you will never treat my child in a way that is anything less than loving and supportive. Is that understood?”
Numbly, she nodded.
“Good.”
Anne took my hand. Solidarity among sisters, etcetera, and thank god for it. I really needed her right then. Together, with Mal behind us, we left.