33
SCARLETT
Same Ol’ Mistakes
Four days later, Scarlett was waiting in line at a café around the corner from her bandmates’ house. After three hours of rehearsing, she’d run out to get them some coffee.
While she waited to place her order, she exchanged a series of flirty texts with Viggo, who was just leaving practice and heading home to pack. He was hitting the road for another stretch of away games. He’d be gone for eight days, and she was trying really hard not to think about it. She’d just spent an amazing weekend with him, so she had no right to feel cheated because he was leaving again. She’d known what she was signing up for when she started dating a pro athlete. Frequent separations were part of the deal.
After getting her coffee order, she turned and headed toward the door.
“Hello, Scarlett.”
She looked to her left, tensing when she saw Audrey standing in line. She nodded to her and kept walking.
To her annoyance, Audrey stepped out of line and followed her outside to her car. She was so not in the mood for this shit.
“I’m sorry to hear that you and Viggo are having problems,” Audrey said smugly.
Scarlett turned around, her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Oops.” Audrey put her hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not supposed to know.”
Scarlett’s stomach tightened on a kick of nerves. “Know what?”
Audrey smirked. “Weren’t you at the last two home games? Viggo didn’t exactly play his best, did he?”
Scarlett frowned. “The whole team struggled this week, not just Viggo. They’re a little rusty from the All-Star break, that’s all.”
“Oh, c’mon, Scarlett,” Audrey chided. “Don’t make excuses. We both know your man has been playing erratically lately. Being the All-Star MVP doesn’t change the fact that he’s been inconsistent in games that actually matter. It’s become a concern to management, and rightfully so. There’s a lot at stake this season—”
“I’m aware of that,” Scarlett said stiffly. The Rebels had slipped to second place in the Central Division. They couldn’t afford to lose too much ground if they hoped to make a deep run in the playoffs. Which they absolutely had to. It wasn’t even debatable. This was their year.
“Viggo is one of the best players in the league,” she said vehemently. “People need to stop panicking over a few bad games.”
“Management disagrees with you,” Audrey said with a smirk. “My uncle and Coach Bohler met with Viggo this morning to address his inconsistent production before it becomes a bigger problem.”
Scarlett frowned, shaking her head. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Audrey sighed, pretending to study her flawless manicure. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
“But you did,” Scarlett gritted through clenched teeth. “You were so determined to say something that you got out of line and followed me outside. So stop being coy and just tell me what you’re obviously dying for me to know.”
There was a vicious gleam in Audrey’s eyes. “During the meeting this morning, Viggo basically told my uncle and Coach Bohler that your relationship has become a major distraction.”
Scarlett went cold all over. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true,” Audrey gloated. “I met my uncle for breakfast right after the meeting and he told me everything that was said, verbatim. He said it took some prodding, but they finally got Viggo to admit that your relationship has been throwing him off his game. He knew it was becoming a problem, but he said you’d recently gone through some family drama and he wanted to be there for you.”
Her words sent a dagger through Scarlett’s heart, nearly causing her to drop the drink carrier she was holding.
No way, her mind rebelled. No fucking way would he betray me like this. And definitely not after the weekend we just spent together!
Audrey looked at her with fake sympathy. “I can only imagine how hard this must be for you to hear—”
“Receipts,” Scarlett croaked.
“Receipts?” Audrey shot her a confused look. “I’m not familiar with—”
“Proof,” Scarlett bit out. “You claim Viggo threw me under the fucking bus? I need proof.”
Audrey gave her a condescending smile. “How am I supposed to give you proof? The conversation wasn’t recorded, and my uncle asked me to keep it confidential. Like I said, I wasn’t supposed to say anything. But then I saw you and I just thought you should know how your boyfriend really feels, since he obviously doesn’t have the heart to tell you himself.”
Scarlett was reeling with hurt and anger.
“If I were in your shoes I’d want to know the truth, no matter who was the messenger.” Audrey pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. “I have to say, Scarlett. I’ve definitely noticed an unsettling trend with Viggo. He doesn’t seem to play his best hockey after he’s spent a lot of time in your company.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes. “So now you’re saying that I’m bringing him bad luck?”
“I’m not saying it. But that’s obviously the way Viggo feels. And can you really blame him? I mean, let’s look at the evidence. He didn’t play well against the Maple Leafs after he spent Christmas with you. And he didn’t play well this week after spending All-Star Weekend with you.”
Scarlett smirked. “He played pretty damn well against Chicago when I was right there in the stands. I believe that was the night you and I met, wasn’t it?”
Audrey lifted her chin. “There are always exceptions, of course. But didn’t you fly into town for one night? So you hadn’t been with him for days before that game. And when he scored his hat trick way back in December, were you guys even a couple? Like, weren’t you on tour at the time?”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “You seem to know a whole helluva lot about our relationship. Do you have spies or something? Are you a fucking stalker?”
“Of course not,” Audrey said with a light laugh. “I guess I pay closer attention to gossip blogs than I probably should. And you and Viggo seem to be turning into an ‘It’ couple whose every move makes headlines.” She barely contained her smirk. “All I’m trying to say is that for whatever reason, your boyfriend is having a hard time balancing a serious relationship and hockey. I mean, I don’t know, Scarlett. Even Superman has his kryptonite. Maybe you’re Viggo’s.”
Scarlett didn’t want to hear that, didn’t even want to consider it.
Audrey’s voice became unnervingly gentle. “We both know that as amazing as the Rebels are, they won’t go all the way without Viggo. My uncle says all the key players have to be on top of their game for them to win the Cup. If you really care about the team as much as you say you do, consider putting their needs above your own.” She smiled. “Just a friendly suggestion.”
Friendly suggestion, my ass.
“I have to go,” Scarlett muttered darkly.
“Just think about what I said,” Audrey urged. “Be a hero, Scarlett. Take one for the team.”
Scarlett went back to rehearsal and beat the living shit out of her drums, hitting the skins so hard she broke one of her sticks.
“Fuck!” she shouted in the middle of the song.
Abruptly the music stopped, guitars whining. As she hurled the broken stick across the basement, her bandmates turned to stare at her.
“What the hell just happened?” Ryu asked.
“Sorry,” she grumbled. “I broke my stick.”
“I’m not surprised,” Gage said irritably. “You’ve been out of sync with the rest of us for the past hour. What the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled. “Let’s take a break so I can get another stick.”
“We just took a break,” Traeger reminded her. “When you went on your little coffee run and came back all pissed off and raging. What the hell happened out there?”
“Yeah,” Zander chimed in. “Did you start your period or something?”
She flipped him the bird. “Fuck you!”
Shaking his head, Traeger put down his bass and unplugged from his amp. Then he went to the refrigerator and grabbed a cold beer.
Scarlett frowned at him. “Can you wait until we finish rehearsing? You know how you get when you start drinking—”
Gage snorted harshly. “That’s rich coming from you.”
She shot him a narrow-eyed look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re lecturing Traeger about getting wasted, but he’s not the one who’s distracted right now. You are.”
Resentment stiffened her spine. “How am I distracted?”
“You’re kidding, right? You’ve been distracted ever since we started recording this album!”
“That is not true!”
“The hell it isn’t!” Gage yelled. “Practically every damn song you’ve written for this album is about Viggo—”
“Bullshit!” Scarlett shouted, jumping up from her stool. “You know that’s not true!”
“Yes, it is!”
“So a song addressing political corruption is about my relationship? What about a song celebrating individuality? Or a song protesting human rights violations around the world? Seth says ‘Collision’ will probably win us a fucking Grammy!”
Gage glared at her. “All I’m saying is that we could have been in the studio last weekend, but you just had to run off to Nashville to be with Viggo. I know he’s footing the bill, but just because he told us to take our time recording this album doesn’t mean we have to. But that works out for you because it gives you more time to play house with him.” Gage frowned. “You just broke your fucking drumstick because you’re pissed off about something that probably involves him. So don’t stand there and tell me you’re not distracted because I know better. We all do.”
His stinging rebuke took the edge off Scarlett’s anger. She closed her eyes, blew out a heavy breath and dragged her hand through her hair.
“You’re right,” she mumbled sulkily. “I just got some upsetting news, but I should have left it at the door. I’m sorry for disrupting rehearsal. It won’t happen again.”
Three of the four accepted her apology. “It’s okay, Scar. We all have our days.”
Gage wasn’t as forgiving. “I just think you’re losing sight of your priorities. If given the choice between rehearsing and running home to suck Viggo’s dick, you’d probably choose the blowjob.”
The crass insult shot her hackles up. “Fuck you, Gage! I can’t believe you just said that to me! I’d expect some shit like that from Traeger, not you!”
“Hey, don’t bring me into this,” Traeger protested, holding up both hands. “I don’t have a problem with Viggo, and I sure as hell don’t care how many blowjobs you give him. Dude’s a lucky motherfucker.”
Gage scowled. “I don’t have a problem with Viggo.”
“Sure sounds like it,” Scarlett snapped. “And another thing. If you don’t like my songwriting, you’re more than welcome to contribute your own shit!”
“Calm down,” he grumbled. “I never said I don’t like the new songs.”
“I actually think it’s some of your best work,” Ryu piped up.
Traeger and Zander vigorously agreed.
“Oh, sure,” Gage said sarcastically to them, “make me look like the bad guy.”
Scarlett snorted. “You’re doing a fine job of that all on your own.”
He scowled. “I’m not the only one who has concerns about the band.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What concerns?”
“For starters, you seem to be the one getting all the attention. You’re the one doing magazine spreads with your boyfriend and other musicians. You’re the one getting approached about collaborations. You’re the one who just got an invitation to sing the national anthem at a Rebels game. For fuck’s sake, Scar. Maybe the rest of us are getting cold in your goddamn shadow.”
“Is that what this is about?” she said in disbelief. “You think I’m hogging the spotlight?”
Her bandmates exchanged uncomfortable glances.
“Unbelievable!” she hissed, glaring at them. “You guys can be so fucking ungrateful!”
They scowled. “We’re not ungrateful.”
“Yes, you are! Especially you, Gage. After everything Viggo has done for us, how can you stand there and complain about me spending too much time with him? Need I remind you that he’s my boyfriend?”
Gage’s expression darkened. “I’m well aware—”
“Look around,” she spat, gesturing to encompass the basement. “We wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Viggo. The van wouldn’t have a new fuel pump and we sure as hell wouldn’t be recording our third album if he hadn’t fronted us the cash!”
“You’re right,” Gage jeered. “How dare we complain when you kept your end of the bargain and got us a Sugar Daddy?”
Her lips twisted into a bitter sneer. “Glad to know I’m good for something.”
Gage glared at her.
She glared right back.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Everyone whipped their heads around to see Viggo coming slowly down the stairs.
“Hey,” Scarlett said weakly.
He came off the last step. “I knocked and rang the doorbell, but I guess you guys couldn’t hear me over all the shouting.”
Scarlett stared at him, stricken. How much had he overheard?
“I wanted to see you before I left.” He looked at her and then glanced around the room. No one else would meet his gaze.
A muscle clenched in his jaw.
Scarlett moved toward him. “Let’s go upstairs.”
He gave the others a long, hard look before following her up the stairwell. She didn’t want the guys to overhear their conversation, so she led him out the front door.
He walked to the edge of the porch and stood with his back to her, tension vibrating off him in potent waves. He had on a charcoal suit like the one he’d been wearing the night they met at Reid and Nadia’s engagement party. It seemed a lifetime ago.
She folded her arms across her chest. “I hear you had a meeting with the coach and GM this morning.”
He turned and stared at her. “Who told you that?”
“Audrey.” She smirked. “We ran into each other at the coffee shop and had a friendly little chat.”
His eyes narrowed. “About what?”
“She told me they’re panicking about your so-called inconsistent performances. So they called a meeting to find out what’s going on with you, and you basically blamed everything on me.”
His eyebrows slammed together in a formidable scowl. “Is that what she told you?”
“Yes.” Scarlett raised her chin, holding his gaze. “Is it true?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think!”
“That’s a fucking shame.”
She felt a quiver of uncertainty. “So you didn’t tell them that our relationship has been throwing you off your game?”
“No, I didn’t. In fact, your name only came up twice.” He held up two fingers. “The first time was when McCaskill asked me point-blank if you were becoming a distraction. I told him no. Period. End of story. The second time your name came up was in reference to you singing the national anthem when we play Tampa Bay. Coach mentioned what a great singer you are and said he was looking forward to your performance. That. Was. It.”
Scarlett could feel her face burning, could feel tears creeping into her eyes.
Viggo glared at her, his eyes flashing like gathering storm clouds spiked with lightning. “What else did that psycho bitch tell you?”
Scarlett swallowed. “She said you told them that I was going through some family drama and you wanted to be there for me. She was talking about my brother, Viggo. How the hell would she know about that?”
“I don’t fucking know!” he roared.
She wanted to believe him. She really did. But if he was telling the truth, that meant she’d just made one of the biggest mistakes of her life.
Viggo shook his head at her. “You’re playing right into her hands. You know that, don’t you?”
“Am I?” she challenged defensively. “You act as if I have no basis for believing you might have said those things. Aren’t you the one who admitted that missing me puts you in a bad mood? I don’t know, Viggo. Maybe our relationship has become a distraction.”
“Or maybe it’s not about you.” His voice was like ice. “I’ve been estranged from my grandfather for six years, but he recently started calling and texting me. It’s been fucking with my mind and dredging up bad memories. So maybe I haven’t been as focused as I need to be.”
Scarlett stared at him. “How the hell was I supposed to know that? Every time I ask you about your grandfather, you clam up on me!”
He gave her a dark smirk. “And you were so fucking eager to bare your soul about Myles, right?”
She flinched as if he’d slapped her. Taking a step back, she stuffed her trembling hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “I don’t ever want to be a distraction to you, whether or not you think I am.” She swallowed painfully. “Maybe we should just take a break until the season is over.”
His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Is that what you want, Scarlett? To take a break?”
“It’s not about what I want. It’s about doing what’s best for you—”
“Spare me your martyr bullshit,” he said scornfully. “If you want to break up with me, just fucking say it.”
“That’s not what I want!” Her voice broke with frustration. How had this argument spiraled so out of control?
Viggo moved to stand directly in front of her, so close that their chests brushed against each other. He leaned down and angled his head over hers, their mouths separated by mere inches.
As she stared up into his stormy eyes, her heart was beating so hard she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.
“That was an interesting convo you and your bandmates were having.” Each word was enunciated slowly, conveying just a hint of his seething fury. “What was Gage talking about?”
Scarlett glanced away from him. “Nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing.” He roughly cupped her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. “Is that what I am to you, Scarlett? A fucking Sugar Daddy?”
“Of course not!”
“You sure about that?” His lips twisted into a sneer. “Maybe now that you got what you wanted, you don’t need me anymore.”
His words cut deep. “What I wanted?”
“Yes, what you fucking wanted,” he snarled.
“Did I ask you for anything?” she fired back. “I appreciate everything you’ve given us, but I never asked for any of it. In fact, I seem to recall refusing your money several times!”
“You’re right, Scarlett. You didn’t ask for any of this.” His jaw hardened to granite. “And neither did I.”
The temperature of his tone sent a chill through her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I have a plane to catch.” He stepped away from her and raked her with a coldly dismissive glance. “Enjoy your rehearsal.”
Panicking, she grabbed his arm. “Viggo, wait—”
He shook off her hand and pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses, shoving them on as he turned and stalked across the yard toward his truck.
She went after him. “Viggo, please—”
He hopped up into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Before she’d gotten halfway to the curb, he gunned the engine and roared off down the street.
She watched him go, her anger giving way to tears of pain and frustration. Spinning on her heel, she stormed back into the house and pulled up short when she saw her bandmates gathered at the top of the basement stairs.
They looked concerned. “Scarlett—”
“Leave me the fuck alone!” she screamed, running into the powder room. She kicked the door shut behind her and slumped against it, then covered her face with her hands and broke down sobbing.
* **
She couldn’t bring herself to return to Viggo’s place that night, so she stayed with her bandmates. The next morning, they drove her to the penthouse so she could pack her belongings and move out.
It killed her to leave, completely gutted her heart and wrenched her soul. But she figured Viggo wouldn’t want to see her when he came back home. So she saved him the trouble of putting her out like yesterday’s trash.
Her bandmates helped her load up her stuff in the van. When they were done, Traeger climbed behind the wheel and started the engine, but made no move to leave. From the backseat, Scarlett watched him stare at the Lamborghini and Bugatti Veyron parked in Viggo’s carport.
She grew impatient. “What’re you waiting for?”
He turned around in his seat to stare at her. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
She gave him a cynical look. “What’s wrong? Worried he’ll cut off our studio funding?”
“No. I haven’t even thought about that.” Traeger’s blue eyes searched her face, serious and concerned. “I’ve never seen you this messed up over a guy before.” He paused. “Not even Myles.”
Fighting hot tears, she turned to stare out the window and whispered, “Let’s just go, please.”
Her bandmates exchanged worried glances before Traeger put the van in drive and headed toward the freight-style elevator. She remembered her awestruck wonder the first time she saw the futuristic contraption. The realization that she’d probably never see it again made her want to cry.
On the way to her parents’ house, they stopped for gas. Traeger got out to fill the tank while Ryu and Zander headed into the convenience store to buy beer and snacks. Gage stayed in the van with Scarlett.
A strange silence hung between them. Normally they would have been laughing and joking around, talking hockey or giving each other feedback on a melody or riff that was stuck in their heads.
But today there was only silence. When it had stretched past the breaking point, Gage spoke from the passenger seat. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you yesterday.”
Scarlett stared out the window. “Did you mean it?”
He didn’t answer right away. After a long hesitation, he mumbled, “I don’t know. Maybe some of it.”
She swallowed a hard knot. “Don’t ever question my commitment to the band. That’s a low blow and you know it.”
He pushed out a deep breath and dragged an unsteady hand through his thick Bohemian hair. “You’re right. I went too far. I’m sorry.”
She fell silent.
“I feel really bad for fucking things up between you and Viggo,” Gage said gruffly. “If you want, I can call him and explain the whole ‘Sugar Daddy’ joke—”
“That’s okay.” Her tone was bitterly sardonic. “I don’t think he wants to hear from any of us right now.”
Another weighty silence passed.
“Scarlett, I l—”
“Don’t, Gage.” She stared at the back of his head. “Don’t say anything that will change our friendship or make things painfully awkward between us. We’re good the way we are. Please don’t change us.”
He leaned his head back against the headrest and blew out a heavy breath. “I just…after yesterday, I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I don’t,” she said quietly. “I could never hate you. I love you, Gage, and I always will. You don’t ever have to worry about losing me.”
He dropped his head forward, his broad shoulders sagging in relief.
That coaxed a smile out of her—the first smile in what felt like ages. She sat forward, reached around his headrest and playfully ruffled his hair.
He caught her hand and held it, staring over his shoulder at her. “I hope he comes to his senses soon.”
Heart constricting, Scarlett swallowed hard and whispered, “Me, too.”
A few moments later the others piled back into the van, and they were on their way again. When they reached her parents’ house, Scarlett let herself inside using her key.
Her father came out of his study and gave her a small, welcoming smile. “Hi, baby girl.”
She smiled weakly. “Hi, Dad.”
“Your mother told me you called and said you were moving back home.”
“Yeah.” She dropped her gaze, sheepishly scuffing the floor with the toe of her Chucks. “Is that okay with you?”
“Of course it is. This is your home. Always has been, always will be. You know we’re both happy to have you back. But something tells me it came at a high cost.”
When she lifted her head, his concerned eyes probed hers. “You all right?”
“Not really,” she whispered.
Her dad frowned. “I warned him not to hurt you. Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She blinked back tears. “I hurt him.”
Expression softening, her father folded her into his arms and gently patted her back. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured soothingly.
As she cried into his chest, her mother walked up and tenderly hugged her from behind.
Her bandmates came to the door carrying her bags. When they saw her parents embracing her, they put the bags down and joined them, creating one big group hug.