Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance (16 page)

The imprint of his fingers on her butt cheeks evolved into a blur of splotchy crimson. Damn. That had to burn. He was breathing hard with the intensity of his emotions, and he let his hand rest on her waist. With one last look at his handy work, he rolled on a condom, positioned between her legs, and in three seconds had her purring in pleasure rather than pain.

It was Scar’s sweet hide he wanted to tan for turning him inside out… For hanging him out…

“H
e’s here!” Derrick’s excitement carried through the phone speaker.

I roused myself, blinking the sleep from my eyes and crackling the pages in a spiral notebook as I pushed to one elbow. “Who?”

His words ran together in his haste to get them out. “The man from the white car. Remember, I told you I’d seen him before? He’s here! At the hotel.”

Derrick had worked at an elaborate tourist resort since before his freshman year in college. I presumed that to be the hotel he was speaking of, but I wiped my bed-head hair from my face as I clarified. “Your hotel? How do you know it’s him?”

“The flame tattoo on his neck is pretty unique. Plus, I checked the reservations and he’s from L.A.”

“What name is he registered with?” My heart pounded, and I held my breath, knowing I’d never given Derrick the paparazzi stalker’s name.

“Wayne Ketchum.”

My air expelled in a whoosh, and the thumping of my pulse became painful. The mysterious man had been creepy enough outside my home. Turning up in the city I’d spent several of my growing up years in was taking stalking to a higher level.

But it was Belize. I talked myself down. A common tourist destination. Regardless, I called Mike. He had become my middleman with the security team the Remingtons—and lately I—employed.

He assured me of a contact in Belize who could have answers for him in a matter of hours. Sure enough, late the next evening, he phoned with answers that led to more questions.

“Ketchum had dinner with your mother.”

I felt as if a hammer had come down on the bridge of my nose. He followed with a few details and inquired if I wanted to probe further. When the call ended, I dialed my mom while finishing the stir-fry I’d been cooking up. The call went to voicemail, and in that same minute, Ivy rang from the gate. Without leaving a message, I interrupted my mother’s voice recording with a jab of my thumb and switched over to let Ivy in.

By the time my friend made it upstairs and inside the apartment, I had dished us each up a plate. After we exchanged greetings, I set the food on the tiny table with a flourish.

“Smells delish’.” Ivy sat and picked up the fork at her setting.

“Caroline had to work late and couldn’t make it in time, but she said she was going to try and stop by in an hour or so.” I spoke while pulling out a chair.

The fork froze midair, and Ivy whipped her attention from the food to my face. “I didn’t know Caroline was coming.”

I returned the skillet to the stove and regarded Ivy’s semi-horrified features. “She’s really cool. We’ve become pretty close over the last several months.”

“I didn’t know.”

Was my friend jealous? Guardedly, I reminded, “You’ve been out of town a lot.” Reaching for the cooling bread loaf wrapped in foil, I explained. “Mostly we only text back and forth, same as you and me. But I thought as long as I was cooking, it might be fun to have a girl’s night.”

“Yeah. Fine by me. I was just surprised.” Swallowing her current bite, Ivy moaned in appreciation and used her fork as a pointing stick to the food on her plate. “Good!”

“Thanks.” I tore us each a section of the bread loaf and eyed Ivy’s golden skin.

“Is that a mist tan or the real deal?”

Ivy scooped another bite into her mouth and eyed one of her bare arms. “Real. Gotta love Cali.” My gaze went to my own skin, and my friend lifted a brow, advising, “Work less. Sun more.”

“We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune in ten years.” I joked. But I speculatively eyed the heightened color in Ivy’s face. Ivy hadn’t emerged from the summer with this much color. The deep tan was a product of the last few weeks, and I wondered if it was a physical adjustment my friend was doing to accommodate her current movie role.

“You’re quiet.” Ivy forked the last piece of asparagus from her plate.

“When Derrick was here…” I began and then trailed off. By nature, I was private, and I reconsidered whether or not to tell Ivy the paparazzi stalker story.

“Oh, sweetie. Don’t let Gage make you feel guilty about Derrick. You know better than anyone. An addict does what they’re going to do and then blames the rest of their world.”

I abandoned what remained on my plate and stared over it. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought
you
were talking about it. Gage getting drunk and almost getting run over.” I felt my eyes widen, and Ivy continued. “New Year’s Eve. He flipped out and ended up drunk in some dive on Sunset.” With each sentence, Ivy waited as if it would prompt my memory—as if I’d forget something of that magnitude. “Fell off a curb in front of traffic. Told Colt he was torn up because you were with an old boyfriend. You didn’t know this?”

Shaking my head, I asked, “So, he’s using again?”

“No, no. Just alcohol. And only that one time, Colt is pretty sure.”

“How do you know it was just the one time?” A shroud of smothering guilt settled over me. I knew Ivy was right. Blaming myself was ridiculous. But I clutched onto the possibility it was one backslide and not total.

“Colt said Gage was furious with himself. Said he believed him when he said it was the only time he’s had a drink since rehab.”

Jumping up, I grabbed our plates and dumped them into the sink. Pivoting on a socked heel, I wondered, “When do you talk to Colt?”

“In the course of exchanging kids. Seth and Jeter are always together.”

“Oh.”
Of course
. Even though the explanation was plausible, Ivy seemed off. She was suddenly the one to jump up and insisted on loading the dishwasher. “Everything okay with you these days?” Ivy nodded, and I couldn’t glean much since she was facing the sink. My friend had been upset a while back over an Australian actress she felt was making a play for Bradley. Now I realized Gage and I had broken up around that time, and I hadn’t noticed when Ivy never brought that worry up again. “You and Bradley are doing okay?”

Ivy nodded again and ran a sponge over the granite. “You ever figure out if you and Logan are dating?”

“He kissed me.”

Dropping the sponge, Ivy whirled around. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It was a peck. No tongue. It was… strange. I’m not sure it would work between us for long.”

“Because of Gage?”

“Well, yeah.” I shrugged and then admitted. “And I’m not attracted to him like…” Wandering a few steps into the main room, I picked up my guitar and dropped to the couch. “I won’t find anyone else like Gage, will I? We just have one of those in a lifetime, don’t we?”

Ivy curved a sad smile. “I hope we get at least one. I’m still waiting.” She crossed in front of the couch and picked my purse up from the sofa table. “Damn, girl. You’re getting good.”

Was it conceited to know I was? Although I only managed a lesson from Seth every other week, I practiced by myself for hours. I had also found a few favorite guitar lesson channels on YouTube. The magic was often a tangible tingle, surging from my soul to my fingertips.

“I’ve got to go. Sorry to not hang around for Caroline, but it’s getting late for this girl here who has a six a.m. casting call.”

“I guess I can forgive you.” I teased. Excited for my friend who had so far had a minor part in a movie and now a lead in a pilot, I asked, “When will you know if the show is picked up?”

“Months.” Ivy pulled a face.

My fingers continued their dance on the strings for a few seconds more before I put the instrument aside and walked Ivy out. I waved to my neighbor who was smoking on the porch and sprinted back upstairs.

While I was downstairs, Caroline had texted that she couldn’t make it after all due to something going on with Jeter. As for Henni, my dear mother hadn’t returned my text or call.

Even though it was an hour later in Belize, I decided to phone her again.

“Scarlette! Thank God!” My mother gushed as if she had been the one trying to call all day. “Honey, we need to talk.”

“I’m listening.” Something told me I needed to sit down, but I didn’t. I paced.

“Will your graduation ceremony be the last week in May or the first in June?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m joining some friends on their yacht for a few days, and they were asking me―”

“Is this what you needed to talk to me about?” Impatient with trivial talk of floating on the ocean, I interrupted.

“Yes… Why? You sound upset, dear.”

“Because I thought you were going to explain to me what my freaking stalker paps is doing at Cochina’s with you!” I screamed out the restaurant where I’d been told my mother and Ketchum had dined. Here, I kicked at my couch and ignored the tears filling my eyes when I stubbed my big toe.

“How do you know that?” Henni’s reply was barely a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter. Just tell me.”

“I can’t tell you that. And I resent being spied on. Just because you’re paying my rent―”

“I wasn’t spying on you! I was spying on
him
! Any person who sits outside my house practically twenty-four-seven for months now is a concern to my security team. They’re good at what they do. Shit, Mother! Just answer.”

“Scarlette, don’t dig into this.” Henni suddenly sounded contrite—and tired. “I’m taking care of it. I’m going to make it go away like I always have.”

“You have always what? Make what go away?”

“Call the security off. Trust me on this.”

“Mom, you have to tell me what is going on…”

“I will. But now is not the time. Now about your graduation―”

A jab at the end button disconnected the call. I was about to call Mike back and have him look into it more, when I realized how late it was and opted to wait.

My phone lit with a text.

How? How was I to trust the woman who had never told me I had an inheritance? Who had stolen my debit card more times than I probably knew?

But the next morning, I didn’t call Mike. It wasn’t because I trusted Henni. It was because I didn’t. If Henni had flirted and given her number to Ketchum on Christmas day, and a relationship had sprung from that, there was no sense in investigating further.

C
olt blew out a breath of smoke, and before vaporizing into the spring day, it drifted in a cloud over his pool where Jeter and Seth and their ‘girlfriends’ were involved in a splashing war. “When are you going to ask her?”

“I’m not.” Gage was quick to correct the misunderstanding. And damn, just the thought of talking with Scar made his pulse throb in delicate places. “Jax is going to meet with her.

“Think she’ll do it?”

“No. Fuck no. Not without some convincing—by someone who is not me.” Gage rubbed his eyes and crossed his bare ankles when he slouched down more in his chaise. “She hates me. And if she thinks the offer has anything to do with me—as in, if she thinks I suggested she be my freaking babysitter on tour—she’ll decline.”

“So it would make it worse if I talked to her.” Colt let the statement hang as a semi-question.

“Yeah. But thanks. Logan is going to work on her.”

“Tell me he’s not still going out with her.” When Gage didn’t answer, Colt puffed his cheeks out with the next smoky exhale. “How are you so fuckin’ stupid? This is going to blow up in your face.” Colt glanced back to the now empty water and thrust the smoke to Gage when he hopped to his feet. “Hey! Where is everyone? Seth!” Striding to the edge of the terrace overlooking the second pool, he muttered, “Damn kids. Always disappearing the second I quit looking…”

While his friend chased down the horny teens, Gage resisted a hit, ignored Colt’s forecast about the Logan situation, and instead contemplated the Rattler tour.