I texted Gabe in the morning and asked to meet for coffee. Thirty minutes after our set time to meet, Gabe moseyed into the hotel Starbucks.
“Thanks for coming,” I said, handing over the coffee I’d ordered for him. I decided not to make a big deal of the time. He had been late, I had lied to everyone about everything using Gabe as a ploy—I considered us even. He wore a black hat, the name of the college football team he played for emblazoned on the front. He took a long drink of the coffee. “Rough night?” I asked. He had dark circles under his eyes.
“I slept at the hotel down the street, cheapest place I could find. The walls are paper thin. The couple next door fought all night, kept me awake. I thought it might’ve been you and War but this morning I saw they were at least a decade past fifty.” It was Gabe’s attempt at a joke.
A smile ghosted my lips. “I’m hoping we can call a truce for today.”
Gabe stared down at the lid on his coffee. His ball cap shaded his face and I couldn’t see his expression. “I don’t like fighting with you. But you can’t spend your whole life hiding behind me, worried about your dad’s opinion.”
The words were easy to say. Much harder to do. And Gabe could never understand. Pete and Mel, his parents, were like the Cleavers—understanding, warm, forgiving. I let his comment be. I didn’t want to talk about it, about the constant baggage I lugged around, the nagging fear of abandonment. Instead, I said, “It’s a long ride to Portland. I downloaded a bunch of movies. You don’t have to talk to me. Just watch.” My cheeks hurt from smiling, keeping a brave face, trying to make everything okay between us. Please let me fix us.
He looked up, his blue eyes soft. “Not Twilight.” Ah, an olive branch. I’d take it.
I smiled. A real smile. Things with Gabe were always so easy. He let me off the hook. With Warren, it was the opposite; he was always challenging me, holding me accountable. Super annoying. “Not Twilight. I’ve got every zombie movie from 1980 on.”
Gabe groaned, hand to his chest. “It’s not fair, you know my weakness.”
A flutter of commotion in the lobby drew my attention. Wild Minds had come down, and fans had noticed. Their security formed a wall around Ash, War, Derren and Lix. Grim satisfaction set in, seeing Warren looked haggard. He hadn’t slept well either. Join the club, jerk face.
The band passed the small café, but didn’t see us, too intent on exiting and diving into an idling black Suburban. Another thing I hadn’t considered. Being Warren’s wife meant stepping out of the shadows and into the limelight. I was semi-used to the public eye and imagined I’d adjust okay. But Lily wasn’t—she wouldn’t. She valued her privacy, her anonymity, her independence. I wondered if that was what had really scared her off Ash.
Gabe tapped my cup with his. “I’ll watch zombie movies with you.”
I breathed out. Gabe still seemed a little mad but he was willing to work on it, to work it out with me. I could accept that. All I had to do was get to the same point with Billy and Warren. They might be angry at first, but they’d come around. Everything would be okay. Wouldn’t it?
Twelve hours and six zombie movies later, we arrived in Portland. I’d seen enough mutilated flesh and cannibalism to last a lifetime.
It was after dark, early evening, and cool but dry outside. The band played tomorrow night at the Moda Center. Once we rolled to a stop, Billy sat up, stretched and declared, “Family dinner tonight at nine. I expect all of you to be there.” He pointed directly at Gabe and me. During the trip, my father had been unusually quiet. It made me suspicious. Gabe and I had secluded ourselves in the back of the bus, in Billy and Daisy’s “love nest,” laying down several blankets to sit on. Every time I emerged to use the bathroom or grab a snack, Billy would track me with his eyes. He wouldn’t say anything. But his lingering, questioning looks spoke volumes. He knew something was up. He was sniffing me out, a bloodhound that had just picked up a scent.
“Sounds great, Billy.” I gave him an overly bright, semi-creepy smile. Grabbing Gabe’s wrist, I pulled him behind me. “We’re going to go explore.”
Billy’s lips twitched as if he was going to say something. Daisy called from the back of the bus. “Billy, I need you.” Saved by my former nanny, I didn’t waste any time and deboarded.
Gabe and I wandered the streets of Portland for a while, spending most of our time in a giant used bookstore Lily would have loved. Kelly kept us company. Eight thirty rolled around and with all the reluctance of a cat held above water, I made my way to the steakhouse where Billy had reservations. Or rather, where Daisy had reservations on behalf of Billy.
On time, we were the first to arrive. The thin-mustached maître d’ perused the three of us, eyes lingering on our casual clothing. This place definitely had a dress code. One we definitely didn’t meet. At length, he smiled politely and showed us the way to a private room. The table had been set with candles and crystal. The lighting was low. All in all, it was cozy, classy. Too bad Wanks and Janks would be here to destroy it soon. I frowned, counting extra seats. With the band, Gabe’s folks and Daisy, we didn’t need such a large table.
“Addison!” Mel’s sweet voice drifted to me. I smiled, turning just as the plump woman embraced me. I hugged her back. She smelled like laundry detergent, and I took a long inhale before letting her go.
Pete was beside her. The retired cop looked the same as when I’d met him at age four, save for the smile lines on his face and the salt and pepper in his hair. “Addy,” he said, hugging me too. I’d always had a sort of hero worship of Pete. He’d been the officer to enter my mother’s apartment and find me. He’d saved me.
“Oh, hey, Mom and Dad. Remember me?” Gabe joked. Mel and Pete laughed, hugging their only child.
Wanks and Janks rolled in. Billy shook Mel and Pete’s hands. More hugs. We sat down. The table had an odd vibe, kind of like the Cleavers meet the Mansons. The waiter came for drink orders. “We’re still waiting on a few,” Billy said. On the tail end of his words, our other guests arrived. All four members of Wild Minds walked through the door.
I stared at them, stunned. I couldn’t even muster any joy seeing Derren carrying his donut pillow. I guessed his tattooed ass still hurt.
Billy noticed. “Problem, little bird?” he asked, brows high.
We sat across from each other. I leaned over the table so only he could hear. “You invited Wild Minds?”
“Course I did,” Billy said. He smiled and it reminded me of a shark, all teeth, predatory. “We always include opening bands in our family dinners.”
“They’re not an opening band anymore,” I gritted out.
“They used to be. And they should remember that,” Billy announced, a little too loudly. On purpose, no doubt.
“What’s that, Bill?” Ash asked, taking a seat at the head of the table.
“I was just telling my little bird here that it’s important you don’t forget where you came from. Isn’t that right?” Billy asked me.
I sucked in my stomach. “I guess.”
Derren and Lix sat near Ash, leaving one spot open, next to me. Warren pulled the chair out, landing heavily in the seat, his body posture rigid. Gabe sat on the opposite side of me. The butterflies inside my stomach grew barbed wings and began to flutter.
A waiter arrived with a tray full of glasses of water. He set one down in front of me. War and I reached for it at the same time. “Sorry,” I muttered, withdrawing.
“You’re looking kind of peaky, little bird. You feeling all right?” Billy asked.
“I’m fine. I think I’d like a drink.” A big drink. I signaled the waiter and ordered a vodka and cranberry. I almost called him back to nix the cranberry.
“You know, that sounds good,” Mel said. She and Pete sat at the other head of the table. She smiled sweetly at the waiter. “I’ll have a glass of wine.”
Separate conversations started. Derren, Lix and Ash laughed loudly about something. Daisy whispered to Warren, chatting about sound check tomorrow. Apparently, there was a new sound board operator. My drink arrived and I took a healthy swallow—not nearly enough vodka.
“So I bet you were over the moon when you heard Gabe and bird were back together,” Billy said, spreading his arm behind Daisy’s chair and toying with a lock of her red hair.
I nearly spat cranberry and vodka all over the table.
Mel’s eyes misted over. “Is that true?” she asked. Fuckity. Fuck. Fuck. Mel had always wanted a daughter. And when Gabe and I were dating, she’d spoken fondly of having me as a daughter-in-law one day.
Gabe’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, Ma, it’s—”
“Not true,” I interjected. The room went silent. All eyes zipped to me.
“Oh.” Mel’s look of disappointment shattered my heart.
Billy put a hand to his chest in mock mortification. “Little bird, are you saying you’ve been lying to me?”
All of Billy’s sly looks, his insistence Mel and Pete join us for family dinner, inviting Wild Minds—it all added up. My father had manipulated the whole situation, an elaborate plan to make me come clean. “You can cut the crap, Billy,” I said. “You’ve known this whole time Gabe and I weren’t together.”
“Of course I have. You two have less chemistry than a fart and a piss.” Whatever that meant. “Everyone here thinks I’m some sod and don’t see what’s going on right in front of my face. But I ain’t.” His crossed his arms, chin up.
“Billy,” Daisy said quietly.
“You stay out of this, love. This is between my daughter and me. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
Daisy’s eyes became twin pools of hurt. Billy had stuck his foot in his mouth again. Without intending it, he’d placed Daisy outside of the family. Daisy was sweet, but her spirit was made of steel. She shot Billy a look. “I’m going to let that pass because I know you’re hurting and lashing out. But we’ll talk about it later. And don’t expect to sleep in my room tonight.”
Billy dipped his chin. “That sounds fair. I appreciate you being understanding.” He cupped Daisy’s cheek and mouthed ‘sorry’ before turning back to me to start the interrogation again. “Where were we?” he asked. “That’s right, you were just admitting you’ve been lying to your old man.”
Under the table, my fingers flexed. “You’re right, Billy. I haven’t been honest with you. But I think this is a private conversation.”
Billy snorted. “Whatever you’ve got to say, you can say in front of everyone. We’re all family here, right?”
Nobody answered him. Nobody needed to. Everybody was glued to their seats, faces shell-shocked. The waiter had returned to take orders. Even he was frozen, pen poised above his pad.
I risked a glance at Warren. His glacial eyes were burning, intense, expectant and on Billy. I could feel his desire for me to fess up, come clean. I swallowed. No time like the present. I managed a weak smile. Warren ran his thumb absently over the serrated edge of his butter knife. His other hand rested on the table. I set mine on top of his. He opened his hand, our fingers linked—a small gesture, a big statement. One that didn’t go unnoticed. I managed a weak smile. “Warren and I are together.” Adrenaline surged through my body. Fight-or-flight mode had definitely kicked in. And what did I always choose? Flight. Despite that, I stayed planted in my seat.
Billy’s lip curled up. “I knew it. I knew you and this little prick had taken up again. Didn’t I tell you?” he asked Daisy. Then to me he said, “Are you doing this to spite me? Is that what this is, some way to get back at your old man?”
Warren sucked in a breath. I squeezed his hand, a silent plea to hold his tongue. “It’s not like that,” I said. “I love him.”
Warren seemed to relax a bit.
Billy stared me down. “You don’t know shit about love. You’re twenty-two.”
Pete cleared his throat. “I think it might be best if we all take a deep breath here, before we say things we’ll regret.” Silently, I thanked Pete, always the voice of reason.
Billy whipped to Pete. “I think it might be best if you took your lovely wife and got the fuck out of my family dinner.”
“Billy,” Daisy gasped. A murmur of disapproval ran through the table. The waiter was still there in the corner, eyes wide, cataloguing everything, memorizing everything.
“What?” he said to Daisy. He threw his arm wide, gesturing at Pete and Mel. “I’m sick of these two always interfering. Calling me all the time to check in and offering unsolicited parenting advice.” He went back to Mel and Pete. “You’re not her parents. I’m her pop. And her mom was a drugged-out groupie. Addy’s a Wanks. And Wankses don’t date little pricks like him.”
Billy had officially lost his mind. My eyes filled with liquid. Stupid tears. I’d been sucker-punched. Everyone knew about my mother, but we never talked about the ugly truth. I felt raw, exposed, and it was my own father who was roasting me.
Mel put a hand to her chest. “Oh, dear.”
“I’m sorry,” I said to them.
Pete’s mouth settled in a firm line. “No need to apologize.”
Billy demanded my attention again. “I won’t stand for it. He’s a user of the worst kind. What kind of man hits on a seventeen-year-old girl right under her father’s nose?” So, Billy had decided to dredge up the past. Never mind that Warren had been just a week or two over nineteen when we’d first met. In Billy’s eyes I was still some naïve little girl. “I forbid it. You two will stay the fuck away from each other for the rest of the tour.” That said, Billy crossed his arms over his chest. He was done with the conversation. I could feel myself shrinking, shriveling under my father’s disapproval.
“I don’t think you can do that,” Daisy whispered.
“Course I can,” Billy stated. “What’s done can be undone, starting now. Addison Wanks, you will never see him again, not if you want to stay in my life.”
Absolute dead silence. I couldn’t speak. The worst thing I’d ever thought could happen was happening.
Warren shifted beside me. A clear sign he was done being quiet, done letting me handle things on my own. “That’s going to be kind of difficult, since we’re married.”
Someone gasped. My stomach contracted. A sea of curious faces surrounded me.
My gaze flew to Warren. This was the moment of truth. If he looked happy, then I’d know. I’d know his true motivation for spilling our secret. What I saw in Warren’s expression wasn’t pleasure. In fact, he looked pained and resolved. Like he thought he was doing what was best for me. All kinds of screwed up and wrong, but understandable.
Billy looked as if he might be choking on something, then his face drained of color. Hurt replaced anger. He gripped his chest. “That’s not true,” he said, eyes beseeching. “Tell me that’s not true.”
I tried to remove my hand from Warren’s, but he held tight. “Surprise,” I muttered, smiling, a weak attempt at levity.
“When?” Billy asked, fury flashing in his eyes.
“Please,” I said. I didn’t want to tell, to drive the knife in deeper.
Billy straightened. I managed to pry my hand from Warren’s grip. “Three years ago.”
“Three years ago you were in school,” Billy said.
My chest felt tight. Could you suffocate on your own sadness? “I… I lied. I joined Warren and the band on tour. We got married in Greece.”
“You didn’t want us at the wedding?” Daisy asked, voice laced with pain.
I faced her. “It was spur-of-the-moment. Something childish and stupid, but I don’t regret it. We love each other.” My hand returned to Warren’s, seeking strength and comfort.
Billy’s nostrils flared. He turned his cheek. He wouldn’t look at me. Wow, that hurt—what I imagined a boulder might feel like as it crushed you. My heart started a frantic dance. I was losing him, my father. And it was my fault. I’d destroyed my tiny, precious family unit with all my good lies. I needed to get Billy back, get him to look at me, to shout or cry or anything, just come back. So I said the one word I’d uttered only a handful of times—when I’d skinned my knee riding my first bike, in a hospital visiting Billy when he got a concussion crowd-surfing at a concert, at the airport right before boarding a plane to live with Mel and Pete. “Dad,” I whispered.
Whenever I said it, his eyes would soften. But today they didn’t. They hardened, they closed off. That was it. I’d lost him for good.
He pushed himself from the table. “I can’t be here right now.” He eyed the rest of the table. “And for those of you who knew, you’re all a bunch of fucking traitors.” Then he left.
I bowed my head. My hands shook. I sniffled. The silence felt heavy, a shroud around my shoulders. Nobody spoke. What more was there to say?