Rocked in Pieces (6 page)

“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said, still not looking at me.

“It’s okay.”

The bartender came around and handed me a towel. I wiped at the back of my shirt enough to keep it from dripping and thanked him.

“My pleasure,” he said. “You can go to one of the powder rooms to clean up if you want. There’s one on either side of the stairs.”

I smiled. “I’m fine, I think. It’ll dry. I’ll just drink some wine myself and won’t notice the smell.”

He laughed and looked at the woman, whose face I was still trying to place. “Ma’am, do you need help?”

She shook her head, sending the mass of red waves out in around her. “I’m fine. And please, call me Laura,” she added flirtatiously.

I could feel the bartender rolling his eyes along with me.

He bent over and picked up the glass and her heel and handed the latter to her.

She batted her eyelashes and him and put her hand on his arm. “Let me just slip these off so I don’t fall over.” She removed her shoes and then finally looked at me. “Hey… I know you,” she slurred.

“You do?”

She nodded, pointing her one good heel a little too close to my face. “You were at the show. Backstage.”

“I was.” The bartender and I exchanged a glance, and he headed back to work.

“What’s your name?”

“Ellie.”

“Hmm. I don’t believe I know anyone by that name. Here, hold these.” She shoved her shoes into my hand and reached down into the bodice of her dress. She pulled out a phone and tapped the screen a few times. “No, no. No Ellie.” She squinted up at me and then frowned, and suddenly I knew exactly who she was.

“You’re Laura Clark?”

She tossed her head and smiled, thrusting out her chest. “I am.”

“Julia’s mother.”

Her lip curled up in a sneer. “Manager. Julia’s manager. We still haven’t established who
you
are, however.”

“Ellie Martin. I work for
Hot Sheet TV
.”

She cocked her head to the side, thinking. “Martin… Martin…
oh
. Oh my, yes. You’re the woman who wrote those gossip columns about my dau- er, client.”

I sighed, resigned to getting another lecture about being a plague on humanity. But she surprised me by wrapping her arms around me and squeezing tightly.

“Those were fantastic, dear. Really excellent. I can’t tell you how many calls we got around those stories.”

“I… I… okay.”

She pulled back and grinned at me before reaching down into her bust again. This time she pulled out a little gold card holder. She opened it and handed me a business card. “Look, if you ever need someone to verify a tip, let me know. Or just keep in touch and I might have something for you every now and then.”

I took the card. “Um… sure, thanks. But actually, I’m working on something different now and…” but it was pointless. She wasn’t paying attention to me anymore. A man with silver hair in a gorgeous suit walked past us and her eyes zeroed in on him like a missile. She snatched her shoes out of my grasp, muttered something like goodbye and padded after him.

All I could say was, “Wow,” as I turned back to the bar.

The bartender asked the person he was serving to wait and handed me a glass of white wine. “To match your back,” he said.

I laughed and took it, wandering off as I sipped it slowly. My back was starting to feel sticky, so I went in search of a bathroom where I could do a more thorough job of cleaning up.

All the ones on the first floor were occupied, so I went up a grand staircase to the second level. It was quieter up here. There were still party guests, but most seemed to be either sneaking off to do something private or sitting in corners chatting about who knows what.

After strolling down a hallway lined with paintings of roiling seas, I found an open bathroom. I pulled my shirt up and wiped off my back as much as possible. Once I was done, I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled.

“Sticky stinky wine back or not, looking pretty good, El.” I reapplied my lipstick and went back outside. I wandered a bit more and found my way to a set of French doors leading to a large balcony. There was a small table and set of chairs, and a line of potted plants framing the view of the large backyard surrounded by dense forest. A few stars were visible in the sky and I sighed happily.

“Shit, even the sky looks better from a mansion,” I noted.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

I spun around to see who had spoken. It was Matthew. My mouth went dry.

“Sorry if I scared you.”

“You didn’t,” I squeaked.
Nice one, dumbass.

“Good.” He grinned, flashing a row of perfect white teeth. “I was following you.”

I choked on a breath and tried to cover it with coughing. “Why?”

“I was curious. Your back is all wet, did you know that?”

“Yes. It’s a long story.”

“Ah.” He leaned against the wall next to the door, clearly not in any hurry to leave. “I have time.”

“Oh. I… it’s not really a long story, I guess. Someone spilled on me. I came upstairs to clean up.”

Just seeing him made me nervous. Which was stupid. I’d been looking at the guy for a couple of days in person, many months in pictures and videos before that. There wasn’t anything unfamiliar about him. Except the way he made me feel. He just did something to me. It was attraction, interest, sure. But it was also beyond that. Some part of Matthew Daniels spoke to a place hidden deep inside me, one I was afraid of and excited by. Awash in contradiction and confusion, he left me off balance in a way I didn’t understand, but was coming to enjoy. And crave.

“And then I just came out here to get some air.”
Scintillating conversation there, Ellie.

He didn’t say anything.

“It’s peaceful, away from the party.”

Matthew stepped forward and I retreated until I was pressed against the railing as the wind sent my hair flying. He stared at me, his expression unreadable as his face filled my field of vision.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Say something.”

“Why are you always watching me?”

I shrugged, feigning indifference when my heart was about to hammer its way out of my chest. “If you see me watching you that must mean you’re watching me too.”

“I am,” he admitted. “Every time we’re in a room together I can’t see anything else. But I know why
I’m
doing it. I want to know why
you
are.”

“Maybe it’s for the same reason.”

He licked his lips and leaned in so close I could feel his breath on my face. “Mmm, I certainly hope so.”

I opened my mouth but no words came out.

Matthew smiled. “Now
you
say something.”

My entire brain was empty. I didn’t even think that was possible. But there I was, with literally nothing to say. Until one tiny thought sparked to life and escaped out of my mouth before I could stop it. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” His voice was low and melodic. Smooth, just like the way he sang.

“For the other night.”

“What do you mean?”

“I…” Oh no, he was going to make me say it. “When I saw you. I… I should have left.”

He put one hand on my arm and slid it up to my shoulder. It took all the willpower I had to keep from moaning.

“It’s all right, Ellie. I’m glad you saw me.”

My eyes went wide, not sure if I’d heard him right. “Why?”

His fingertips slid softly over my neck. “Because I was thinking about you.”

My knees locked and nearly buckled. I grabbed the railing behind me to keep from falling. “You were?”

“I was.”

They were the most amazing, sexiest two words I’d ever heard. Blood pounded in my ears. He was thinking about me. Touching himself. Was it possible that Matthew Daniels was even more interesting than I’d even dreamed? Quiet and smart and polite and talented. And… kind of kinky? Too much. Too hot.

While I was musing, he was caressing my jawline. “Your skin is so soft here. And everywhere, I bet.”

The sound I made was supposed to be noncommittal and cool. It came out more whimpering and pathetic.

He grinned and leaned in close again. He kissed me softly on the cheek right above his fingers, and I inhaled deeply, memorizing the smell of his skin and his hair.

His lips traveled up and over my ear. “Next time, open the door and join me.”

I’m pretty sure I slipped into some kind of erotic fugue state at that point, because the next thing I knew, I was watching his back – and his butt – as he walked back inside and disappeared.

I stood there for a long time, holding my hand over where he’d kissed me, wishing I’d been able to do something. Say something. And wondering where I’d left my wine. I felt the sudden need for a really big drink. And a cold shower.

The next day I had a terrible hangover, but couldn’t stop smiling. When Steven and I met for a call with our office, he kept looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I sipped at my coffee and nodded. “Fine, just tired.”

“Then why do you look like you’ve got brain damage?”

I laughed. “I’m just in a good mood. Glad everything went well last night.”

“We’ll see,” he replied as the phone beeped, indicating the others were ready for us.

Throughout the meeting my grin grew wider. Not only had the live-stream of the show led to huge viewer number growth on the rest of the
Hot Sheet TV
’s content, the buzz everywhere was amazing. New advertisers were flooding in, and the tech guys said we already needed infrastructure updates to keep up with the traffic.

In fact, things were going so well that the bosses were already in talks with publicists for a dozen bands and actors who wanted to help raise their profiles. And they were scheduling a meeting to see if they could send a second unit to join our tour to generate even more footage.

I couldn’t believe how amazing it all was. We’d barely begun and were already a huge success. When the call was over I hugged Steven and ordered us a full room service brunch to celebrate. Plus two carafes of coffee since we had another show tonight to cover.

While we waited, I stretched out on my bed. “So when do you think we should ask for raises?”

He grunted. “That’s not going to happen. More likely they’ll replace us with a new crew. A more famous face and shittier cameraman.”

“Why are you so down about this? We’re killing it, bro. We should be proud.”

“I am,” he said, coming over to sit next to me. “Of course I am. I’m proud of both of us. But there’s a lot of work to come, and plenty of time for failure. Right now the site is shiny and new and exciting. But once it gets to be old news, we’re going to have to come up with bigger news and better stories.”

“I know that. And we’ll get them. Can’t we just be happy for one morning?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” He smiled and tapped at my fingers.

I squeezed his hand quickly and then sat up. “How things have changed, huh?”

He nodded, tapping me again. “All those years ago, tapping at each other through the wall, hungry or scared. If you told those kids we’d end up here one day, they wouldn’t believe it.”

“Seriously.”

Steven’s expression turned serious. “Hey, let’s never forget that, right? We got here together and that’s the only way to succeed.”

“I know. You and me.”

“The only one we can trust and depend on is each other.”

“Forever,” I replied, as always. But I wondered if it was true. If the world was always going to be against us. If there weren’t others we could let in, more people to count on. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but a few short days had made me hope that years of struggle and pain could lead to better things for both of us. Professionally and personally. Broader experiences, better lives.

After the show there was another party, but I decided not to go. It was a smaller crowd, and not something we were going to film. Since we were hitting the road in the morning, I figured my time would be better spent packing up and sleeping.

It seemed like a good plan, but one my brain wasn’t cooperating with. I tossed and turned for hours and finally gave up after two o’clock. I paced my room for a bit and then remembered the swim I never managed to actually get in. Smiling at the memory of what had distracted me, I got my swimsuit on and headed down.

Like before, the gym was deserted and mostly dark. As I passed the sauna, I couldn’t help but peek in, but this time the room was empty. More than a little disappointed, I sighed and went across to the pool.

The room was silent and humid. I dropped my robe on long bench against the wall and climbed down the ladder on one end of the long tiled pool. The water was warm and so inviting. I dunked myself and then made my way to the roped off lanes in the middle even though it seemed unlikely there’s be many other swimmers.

I pushed off the wall and swam a few slow laps, enjoying the feeling of my body cutting through the water and my muscles stretching. After I felt warmed up, I pushed myself a little harder, turning the laps over faster.

When Steven and I were kids, during one of the periods when our foster parents were taking in kids like crazy, it would get so loud in the house that I thought I’d scream. Always someone crying or yelling. Laughing or singing. Feet running, doors slamming. I would sneak into the master bathroom – the only one with a tub – and run a bath in the middle of the day, and still in my underwear, climb in and hide beneath the water’s surface. I’d hold my breath and soak in the perfect solitude, where the only thing I could hear was my own heart beating. I would stay there as long as I could before someone found me. I always got in trouble, but I still did it again and again. Swimming alone in that huge pool was a version on a much grander scale and I felt refreshed and delighted.