My Unexpected Forever (3 page)

I
have my routine on the day of a show. It starts with a run at the nearest park, away from the hotel and the constant pampering. This was always frowned upon by Sam, but it helped me keep a clear head. She was always worried I’d bring back some groupie. The way I saw it, if they could keep up with me, they deserved to come back and hang out.

After my run, I seek out a local coffee shop and grab a cup and walk back to the hotel. Breakfast follows, then a shower before heading to the venue for rehearsal. A very mundane routine, when you think about it.

As I wake in the comfort of a down comforter and Egyptian cotton sheets with a snoring Quinn beside me, I know my routine can stay the same. I can get up and do the same things I’ve done over and over again, or I can change. The question is, how much do I need to change before she notices me for me? I see the way she looks at my tattoos. She definitely doesn’t look at Liam like that, just me. I don’t know why, but I want to change it.

I had planned to talk to her last night when we pulled in. Thought about calling her down to the hot tub with some excuse, but nothing I came up with was plausible. I almost stooped as low as bringing Josie into my devious plan, but knew I was asking for trouble.

Instead, I stood outside my door and watched her open hers. She looked at me briefly before the heavy door separated us, the loud clank sealing my fate yet again.

I stare up at the ceiling, wondering if I could count the tiny specks before Quinn wakes up and demands breakfast. The problem with this logic is that my eyes blur before I can even get passed five. Chalk up another failure.

I throw the blankets off and head to the shower. I should get back into my old habits. Josie could watch Quinn, or the maid on the floor could listen for him if something was wrong. He’s old enough to hang out in the room by himself for an hour and he has a cell phone. A simple text from me saying I’m running wouldn’t make him freak out. Although, waking up and realizing I’m not here would. The last thing I want is for him to be upset or for Katelyn to find out I left him alone. That’s not the image I need her to have of me.

I step into the shower and turn on the water. The cold pounds against my skin; I stand there taking the punishment, for what, I don’t know. Maybe this is my consequence for lusting after a woman who clearly doesn’t want me. Maybe those hints that I’m seeing are just my clouded vision and demented mind at work. She probably throws daggers at me every time I turn around.

I move further under the spray as the water warms up. Lathering up the soap, I scrub my body. I find a bare spot on my arm and think about setting up an appointment for some ink. A vision of Katelyn flashes before my eyes, bare skinned with her dark hair falling over her shoulders. She’s standing there, her hand tracing her hip. There’s ink, a delicate design of lilies spreading across her hip to her back. If the thought of her having one arouses me, I don’t know what I’d do if she ever got one.

I’d pass out if I were allowed to see it.

I’d die if I were allowed to touch it.

When I walk back into the room, Quinn is awake and flipping through the channels. He smiles at me before turning back to the television. He’s going to be eight soon and starting third grade. I can’t believe at one time I used to hold him while he slept. Now, he’s growing so much, I can’t keep up.

“Want to watch cartoons?” Quinn pats the spot next to him on the bed. He winks at me before he starts laughing. I can’t help but laugh. Not at him, but with him. He makes everything better in my life. I take the spot next to him, putting my arm around him. He cozies up against my chest. I rest my head on top of his and watch his morning shows.

Since moving to Beaumont, he’s adjusted so well. I’m sure he misses his tutor, but I like the idea of him getting on the bus every morning and sitting in a classroom. I don’t know what it’s like to make him a lunch and help him put his backpack together. He needs to be with kids his age and not depend on me or the television for entertainment. I like the relationship he’s developed with Noah, who has taken sort of a big brother role with Quinn. If I didn’t know better, I’d say things are looking up for us, except for me in the love department. Seems I’m jonesing after someone that doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.

I startle awake at the sound of knocking. My sorry ass saunters to the door. I’m not even sure what time it is, but the sun is blazing through the windows in my front room. I should remember to shut those before I go to bed. The knocking comes again, stronger this time. I rub my head, pulling at my hair. I need a haircut, it’s getting too long.

“I’m coming,” I yell out when the offender knocks again. I undo the chain and deadbolt. You can never be too safe in Los Angeles. I open the door to a nice little package. She’s tall and skinny. Her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail. My eyes drift down, her eyes hiding behind dark glasses. Her lips are painted a dark red and I wonder how long it would take me to get that nasty crap off them. She’s wearing a tight black t-shirt with 4225 West on the front. Lovely, I’ve opened the door for a groupie. Sam is going to have a field day with this one. I continue my once over, her tight jeans accentuating her rocking little figure.

She rests one hand on her hip and sighs. “This is heavy, can you let me in?” I look at her other hand, she’s carrying some type of large contraption and it’s making noise.

“Do I know you?”

“Of course you do,” she says with such confidence that I push the door wider, allowing her to step in. As she walks by, I notice the contraption is actually carrying a baby. This chick brought her kid to my house. I certainly hope I didn’t tell her I’d babysit. I know I was drinking last night, but pretty sure I’d remember offering to change diapers.

I follow her into the living room. She sits down on the couch and leaves her baby in the carry thing on the floor. I stand, across from her, against the wall, still not sure if I know this woman.

“Do you remember me?”

I shake my head.

“No, you probably don’t. You were pretty hammered.”

“I don’t get hammered,” I say in response her to statement. That is the one thing I’ve prided myself on, not drinking myself into a stupor. People make stupid decisions when they’ve been drinking.

“Well, you were that night.”

“What’s your name?” I’m quickly realizing that I’ve made a mistake letting her into my house.

“Alicia.”

“Alicia, what?”

“Tucker. Alicia Tucker. We met about ten months ago.”

I’m not stupid. I can do the math. I know it takes nine months for a baby to do its thing.

“Looks like you’ve been busy since we met.” This comment causes her to rip her sunglasses off her eyes. If looks could kill, I’d be dead right about now and she’d be cleaning out my checking account.

“We met ten months ago after one of your shows. I was backstage and we went to the bar. I bought you a drink and you brought me back here.”

“Okay.” I’m not sure what else to say. I can only imagine what happened when we came back here and sad to say it, but it wasn’t memorable.

“Anyway, this...” she points to the carrier on the floor. “Is yours.”

The last two words hang in the air. I heard her loud and clear. I don’t need her to repeat herself. I look at her and the carrier. The baby is mostly covered, except the face. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl. I really don’t care. This chick is nuts. I always wrap my junk.

“What makes you think he’s mine?”

“Because we slept together and I got pregnant.”

“Not possible. I don’t drink so I can avoid situations like this. I always wrap my junk. Your kid isn’t mine.”

“It is.”

“It? Do you not know what you gave birth to?”

She rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. I stare at her, not willing to give an inch. Her phone rings. She takes it out and looks at it, smiling. How can she be smiling? This isn’t anything to smile about. She’s blaming her mistake on me. She pockets her phone and looks at me.

“Listen. I had a crush on you. I went to your show, got backstage and met you. I bought you a drink and we ended up here. I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

“What are you thinking about, dad?”

I blink a few times, wondering why I was remembering the day he came to me.

“Not much, bud. We should probably get going.” He nods and climbs off the bed. I watch as he moves around the room with ease. He’s so used to this life and I sort of hate that for him.

W
e
arrive at the venue in time for sound check. The artist who is opening for us finishes as we arrive. The kid shakes our hands, raves about our music and goes on and on about how thankful he is. I leave Liam and Katelyn to talk to him, although I want Katelyn to come with me. I could show her how to play the drums, while she sits on my lap. I hate what she’s wearing. Her skirt is shorter and her shirt is one of our band shirts. I want to tear it to shreds so I can get to what she’s hiding underneath and that skirt would look fine on my floor or up around her waist.

I start my sound check, playing a few of the first few bars of our songs so Tyler can figure everything out. This will be his first major gig and I’d like to make sure it goes off without a hitch.

Liam finally joins us on stage and starts going through his list of requirements. He sings the first verse of each song on our set list for tonight. For the most part sound check goes fairly well. It was Tyler who didn’t like the way a few of the songs sounded, but the adjustments were made and we finished in time for the doors to open.

I walk out front and check in with Luke at the merchandise table. I hadn’t had an opportunity to see everything that Katelyn ordered for our shows. We have the standard band shirts with our new album cover, keychains, lanyards and five different images of me, Liam and JD. This is new, usually it’s just been Liam on the images, but now it’s all three of us. I have to say I like that she’s included JD and me.

I look up when my name is called. A few girls start coming toward me, but it’s not them who catch my attention, it’s Katelyn. She’s looking for me.

I can’t help but grin from ear to ear as I walk toward her.

I
should have an IV drip of coffee inserted deep into my veins today. I don’t know if I can do this. Liam made everything sound so easy and yet here I am about to jump off a cliff because I haven’t a clue as to what’s going on.

At first, when I opened the dressing room door, I thought this was normal. This being red roses everywhere. We are talking on every surface. I thought this venue was just being nice. A bit over the top – yes – but ass-kissing nice nonetheless.

That was until I heard the yelling, followed by the breaking of glass. I’ve never been in a violent home. My father dotes on my mother who would rather have something on her body lifted than to raise her voice. And Mason, he never raised his voice unless he was yelling at the TV. So this bone-chilling sensation running down my spine is rather unnerving and honestly, I’m a little freaked out and afraid to open the door.

I breathe in deeply and try to center myself. If it’s Peyton or Elle yelling on the other side of the door, I can handle it for the most part because I know what is causing their turmoil, but Liam… I can’t fathom.

The sight before me is pure anguish. Liam is throwing vase after vase against the wall, a string of profanities accompanying each shattering vase. Josie has her hands up begging him to stop. And me… I’m standing in the room not knowing what to do.

Jimmy runs by me, stepping in front of Liam and pushing him back into the chair. Josie rushes over to him, crying. She holds him like something has hurt him purposely.

“Katelyn, go and find Harrison,” Jimmy says, heavily, clearly out of breath.

I look at Liam and Josie; neither of them are paying attention to me and then back at Jimmy who signals for me to go. I turn and leave, holding my clipboard to my chest, while I try and figure out where in the hell I can find Harrison.

I search the stage. I ask Tyler if he’s seen him. I knock on DeVon’s door; he’s not there. The bathroom turns up nothing. He’s not in the greenroom with the kids, but Quinn says he likes to see what the fans are buying. Lovely. I take Quinn’s advice and finally head out to the concourse and see him immediately. You can’t miss the beanie, it doesn’t matter what color it is, I’d spot it anywhere.

“Harrison,” I say, not loudly enough. I guess I’m secretly hoping he won’t hear me and I can go back to Jimmy and tell him to find Harrison himself, but he turns, as do the heads of the women near him. He’s probably getting their phone numbers for later.

He keeps his head down when he walks toward me. For the briefest second I want him to look up so I can see his green eyes. Or are they blue today? I shake my head. I can’t believe I even know that about him. That’s crossing so many lines. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to cross any line, especially with him.

Harrison stops in front of me. His hands are pushed into the pockets of his cargo shorts. He’s wearing black combat boots today, they are unlaced and if this was Peyton I’d be on my knees tying them up for her. His black non-descript shirt accentuates his defined biceps. He’s not built like Mason. Mason was muscular, always working out. He didn’t need to flex to show off his muscles, they were there for everyone to see. Mason would have never covered his body in ink. Not like Harrison. I can’t see the skin on his arms without seeing ink. No, Harrison is nothing like Mason.

At the last moment, he looks up and I wish he hadn’t because now I don’t know what to say. His eyes, they’re baby blue with a hint of green today and are being overshadowed by his long eyelashes. I can’t look at him; when I do, I can’t think and I need to think.

I shake my head and rub my temple.

“Are you okay?” he asks and I wish that he didn’t. I don’t want him to talk, not right now.

“Jimmy said to get you. I don’t know what happened, but Liam, he’s upset and throwing the vases against the wall.”

Harrison looks down the corridor and back at me. I know he’s curious, but I don’t have the answers for him. I’ve honestly never seen Liam like that and only read about divas and their dressing rooms. I didn’t expect Liam to be one.

Harrison motions for me to go, but I shake my head. I don’t want him behind me. I fumble too much when he’s around and I don’t know why. I certainly don’t want to snag my heel on a step and fall on my face. I’ll gladly walk behind him.

And now that I’m behind him, I wish I wasn’t. I’m staring. I can’t help it. Once again the tattoo on his calf is begging for me to look at it. My mind wants to know what it is, but my mouth is definitely not going to ask. If the two of those would get in sync I’d greatly appreciate it.

We arrive at their dressing room. Harrison doesn’t knock. I suppose he doesn’t really have to, does he? He swings the door open with a, “What the fuck are you doing?” blurting out too loudly for my taste.

Jimmy is leaning against the wall, shaking his head. Liam is sitting in a chair with Josie rubbing his shoulders. I’m not sure I’d be touching him if I was her, but there she is, standing by her man.

“Why are there roses in here?” Harrison is looking at me like I know the answer. I shrug and look at everyone else in the room.

“Why did you add roses to the rider? Didn’t I tell you, no flowers?” This time it’s Liam speaking. There is so much venom in his voice and for the first time since I started working for him, he’s my boss and not my best friend. He’s angry and hostile. His face is red and his temples are throbbing. I know how he feels.

“Wh-what?” I stutter. Jimmy rolls his eyes. Harrison just looks at me. Liam throws his hands up in the air and jumps out of the chair, causing Josie to fall back a bit.

“The rider, Katelyn. Why did you add flowers?”

“I didn’t.”

“Let me see it!” Liam stalks over, his footsteps heavy and solid. This is a different Liam, this is Liam Page, the performer and I’m not sure I like him at the moment.

I fumble though my file, looking for the rider that I faxed over before we hit the road. My file drops, spreading my papers out all over the floor. Liam sighs and starts muttering a string of curse words that bring tears to my eyes. I will not cry in front of him. I have a feeling this will be my mantra.

I get down on my hands and knees and start gathering the papers. Now that they are all out of order, I’m not going to be able to find anything. My hands are shaking so bad. I hate this. Why is he suddenly being an asshole? If Mason was here, he’d kick his ass for yelling at me.

Mason pushes Liam up against the locker. Josie screams before I realize what’s happening. I’m grabbing Mason’s arms, but to no avail. He’s much too strong for me. Liam doesn’t push back. He’s letting Mason hold him there.

“What the fuck, man?” Liam spits out.

“Don’t what the fuck me, you rat bastard. I saw you yell at her.”

“She deserved it.” That comment earns Liam another slam against the locker.

“Baby, come on, let him go. It’s no big deal,” I plead.

“Did he yell at you?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts, no one yells at you, except me.”

I push Mason as hard as I can, causing him to lose his hold on Liam who easily slips away. “What the hell? Only you can yell at me? Is that what you think, Mason Powell?” I push him again and again. My small hands beating on his chest.

Mason looks over at Liam, who has his face buried in Josie’s neck. I know he’s laughing, I can see him shaking.

“I didn’t mean it like that, baby. Come on, you know I’d never yell at you.”

“I can’t believe you were willing to beat up Liam –“

“Hey now, he may have had me against the locker, but there was no way he’d get the drop on me.”

Mason looks at Liam and shakes his head. Me, I’m not too happy right now. I turn and walk to my locker, leaving the giant meathead standing in the hall.

Mason sets his hand on my locker before I can open it. “Come on, baby,” he whispers into my ear as he gently pushes me against the closed door. I can’t believe fighting turned him on. I can feel him and as much as I want to ignore him, he brings out so much desire in me. “I’m sorry I said that stupid thing. I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

“Mhm… how do you think?”

That’s all I need, to think about Mason for the tears to start. I wipe furiously at my face, afraid to show weakness in this intense moment. The last thing I need is for Liam to feel guilty because I can’t do my job properly.

“Let me help you.” I pull my hand out from under Harrison’s. I don’t know when he bent down to pick up the papers, but he’s staring at me and I feel flush.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Here, Liam’s looking for this.”

I nod and stand, handing Liam the paper he’s asked for. He shakes his head and crumbles the paper in his hand. He rolls his head, neck and shoulders before looking at me.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. Clearly the venue fucked up.” He throws the balled up piece of paper and storms out of the dressing room. I look wide-eyed at Josie, who chases after him. Jimmy follows, leaving just Harrison, an incredibly messy room and me.

“What was that?”

Harrison clears his throat. “Liam doesn’t like flowers in the dressing room. Sam did it once and he threw a fit. It has something to do with her, I think. I’m not really sure, but that’s why the rider is so important.”

“Why?” I ask. My back is still facing him. It’s easier to talk this way.

“Because, if you had put flowers on the rider, he would’ve fired you.”

“Just like that?”

Harrison appears in front of me like magic. I didn’t even hear him move. How can someone wearing combat boots not make any noise when they walk? He shrugs and reaches out to touch me. Why, I don’t know, maybe I have hair sticking to my face. Either way, I move before his fingers can touch me. He drops his hand and his gaze, choosing instead to look at the floor.

“I’d like to think he wouldn’t because he loves you, but I’ve never seen him rage like this either. Maybe something else set him off. It doesn’t matter though.”

“No? You don’t think him firing me matters?” I ask incredulously. “My job matters to me. I have two girls to take care of and a house to keep up. I need this job.”

Harrison steps closer. Close enough that we are breathing the same air. So close that if I move slightly, he’ll be touching me.

“I won’t let him fire you.” This time when he reaches out to touch me, I don’t move. His fingers push my hair behind my ear, causing chills to cascade down my back. He sighs and moves away without saying anything else. I jump slightly when the door shuts, leaving me alone with my rampant thoughts on what just happened.