Sexy Lies and Rock & Roll (25 page)

No doubt, I was fucking reeling. I sat my ass down on the couch and stewed between bouts of nausea while Tyler somehow managed to get the woman up off my bed and out of my bus. She gave me a saucy wink as she stumbled by with Tyler’s arm around her waist.

A few hours later and one sour confrontation with Red, I found out Emma had insisted on renting a car and driving back to Raleigh because she didn’t want to subject Sirius to a plane ride, and that set me off big time.

“Do you really think she was in the right frame of mind to make that kind of trip by herself?” I shouted at the big, burly bus driver.

He didn’t take kindly to that and got in my face. “Maybe if you weren’t such a royal fuck up, she wouldn’t have been upset.”

“You’re fired,” I yelled at him.

“Fuck off,” he yelled back at me. “You don’t employ me. The tour company does.”

Asshole, but he was right about that. I let it go though, because, deep down, I’m glad he was there to look out for Emma.

I figured Emma would eventually answer my phone calls. I tried every ten minutes. She didn’t answer, so I left panicked and pleading voice mails. After about the fifth voice mail I’d left, she’d changed her message to, “This is Emma. Please leave a message. Unless you’re Evan Scott… In that case, fuck off.”

If I weren’t so utterly fucking out of my mind with worry and fear, I would have laughed at her new, sassy attitude. As it were, those words sliced into me deep, as I was pretty sure she was lost to me forever.

I wasn’t ready to give up though, and I was also completely wigged out that I couldn’t remember much of the night before Emma arrived. The last clear memory I have is being in a club with Tyler, Frank, Rick, and Kenny. I remember drinking beers, and then bourbon. A really expensive bourbon.

And then I don’t remember anything else, except a tiny sliver of a memory.

Me huddled over the toilet and puking my guts up, I think even getting it all over my shirt, but I’m not sure as it’s so hazy.

And then… Emma standing there at the foot of the bed, looking so unbelievably heartbroken, I felt a corresponding pain deep in my chest.

I know without a fucking doubt I didn’t do anything with that woman. While I don’t have any memories, I know it to my core. We were both dressed, and I was so fucking drunk, I’m quite sure I couldn’t have gotten it up. On top of that, the girl had dark red lipstick dried on her lips, not an ounce of it smeared or out of place and not a fleck of it on me anywhere.

There’s just no fucking way.

That day Emma was here and saw me in that compromising situation was possibly the worst day of my life. And I had a show to do that night, and I did it because it’s my job and I had to. But it fucking sucked. I wasn’t into the music. There wasn’t a flicker of excitement within me. The evening dragged on, and I couldn’t wait for it to be fucking over. I didn’t give an encore.

Instead, I went back to my bus and I barked at Tyler to leave me the fuck alone when he tried to come in, explaining I needed to attend the after-party. He backed away and has stayed out of my way since. No clue what he told people to explain my absence.

The following day, I couldn’t stand the not knowing. I couldn’t live with the blank spots in that evening, wondering how in the fuck I ended up with a woman in my bed when Tyler said he’d left me alone. Specifically, he said he’d been there when I’d puked, helped me get my shirt off, and got me into bed.

So I called Frank to find out more details. I couldn’t get him on the phone, so I called Rick. He answered and I didn’t pull any punches, told him exactly what went down with Emma. Then I asked him what in the fuck happened after that club.

And I was somewhat heartened.

“Man… I have no clue how you ended up with a woman,” he said in confusion. “All you talked about all night was Emma. At the club, it was Emma. Tyler wanted to take us all to the strip club, but you wouldn’t… because of Emma. We got back to the bus, drank some more, and ordered pizzas. And it was all Emma, Emma, Emma. We left when you got sick. The limo took us to the hotel Tyler had arranged. Dude… you were in no shape to entertain a woman, I swear to fucking God.”

Yes, that was some vindication, but I needed more. At some point, a woman ended up on that bus with me.

I probably would have never figured it out if it weren’t for Midge.

While I’ve not talked to her by phone as I’m in a brooding and ignoring mood, she did text me not long after Emma arrived in Raleigh. I was grateful for the news that she was safe, but not overly grateful at Midge’s text.

What in the hell happened, Evan Michael Scott?

I always knew she was pissed at me when she called me by my full name. I was also pissed because Midge was my aunt and she needed to be a little worried about her heartbroken nephew. Our text exchange went a little like this.

Me:
I’m not in the mood for your dramatics.

Midge:
Tough shit. Emma’s in her dad’s guest room crying her eyes out.

Me:
Well, maybe you should ask her.

I know it was a shitty thing to say, because none of this was Emma’s fault.

Midge:
I did. She just said that it was clearly a bad idea to try to surprise you.

Me:
She has that right.
And because I had to tell her the truth but I was still prickly, I said,
She found me in bed with another woman.

Midge:
EVAN MICHAEL SCOTT! HOW COULD YOU?

Me:
I didn’t do anything. It’s a complete fucking catastrophe, but I swear I didn’t do anything.

There was a long pause. Like a ten-minute pause and I was pretty sure she’d cut me from her life.

But then, she wrote:
I don’t understand. Tyler knew she was coming in to surprise you. How could he have let you get so drunk?

When that text chimed, I was relieved Midge hadn’t disowned me, then I became so overwhelmed with rage when I read her words that I thought I was going to stroke out. My vision actually went hazy, and I had an undeniable urge to murder Tyler.

That fucker knew Emma was coming in to surprise me?

And he let me get that way?

And whoa… wait a fucking New York minute… when I told him Emma was here, he acted surprised. Like he didn’t know.

And that fucker knew according to Midge.

I didn’t respond to her text, but barreled right off the bus. We were at a rest stop about an hour outside of Indianapolis, our next concert stop, and my eyes lasered onto Tyler. He was standing outside of the other bus, laughing with some of the road crew.

He didn’t see me coming.

Not until the last second anyway.

His head turned to me, his face awash with a cheery smile, and all I remember is it sliding off when he realized an enraged bull was charging at him.

Then he was on the ground, and I was on top of him. I got in one solid punch to his face, felt his nose crunch, and then Red was pulling me off him. The road crew guys helped Tyler up, blood leaking from his left nostril.

“What the fuck?” he yelled as he wiped at his nose with the back of his hand.

Red had me held from behind but I raised a shaking hand at him. “You goddamn motherfucker. You knew Emma was coming in to visit me the next morning. You acted surprised when I told you, but you knew. You lied to my fucking face about it, and I want to know why.”

“I didn’t,” Tyler shot back at me, but his voice gave him away. His eyes filled with guilt gave him away.

“You goddamned liar,” I snarled at him. “You set me up, didn’t you? You were the last one to see me before Emma arrived. You knew she was coming in a matter of hours. You put that girl in my bed to drive Emma away, didn’t you?”

“That’s ridiculous,” he sneered at me.

“You hated the fact I was into her,” I shot out, continuing my accusations. “You hated that she had my ear and held influence over me, even though she never once tried to exert it. You couldn’t stand not getting your way, and so you tried to remove what you thought was the obstacle.”

“You can’t prove it,” Tyler shot right back, and I found it very telling he didn’t try to deny it. Merely said I couldn’t prove it.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said as I pulled out of Red’s grasp, but I didn’t make a move toward Tyler. I jerked my head over my shoulder at the bus. “Get your shit off that bus. You’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me,” Tyler cried out. “You need me, Evan. We’re friends.”

“Your brand of friendship sucks,” I muttered as I started to walk away.

“You can’t—” I heard him call out again, but then I heard Red’s voice. “You heard the man. Get your shit off the bus.”

“I’m your boss,” I heard Tyler sneer, but I didn’t turn around to watch the exchange. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Jesus Christ,” Red muttered. “How many times do I have to say it… the tour company hired me, not you, you little piss ant.”

I smiled to myself, but the victory was not long lived. None of that solved my dilemma with Emma. I may have figured out what happened, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help me because it was clear Emma probably wasn’t going to believe a damn thing I had to say as an excuse.

My phone starts ringing again, and my eyes blink as I pull out of the memories, but remain focused on the wall.

Midge.

Again.

With a sigh, I lean sideways on the couch and grab the phone from the side table, answering it before the voice mail can pick up.

“It’s about damn time you answered,” Midge snaps at me as soon as the phone gets to my ear.

“Hello to you too, Midge,” I say dryly.

“It’s a good thing you picked up as I was getting ready to hop a flight to meet you in Detroit,” she says.

I ignore that, because while I have no doubt she’d do it, it’s a moot point since I answered. “What can I do for you?”

“Seriously, Evan,” she says in exasperation. “You’ve been radio silent for four damn days, I’m going out of my mind with worry about you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” I challenge her. “I lost the girl I love because my so-called ‘best friend’ set me up, I haven’t done a damn thing wrong, and there’s no way out of this. So what the fuck do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me you’ve got a plan figured out,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Emma’s completely shut down. She won’t talk to her father or me. The only one she’ll talk to is that goddamned furry beast of hers.”

“She’s still with Cary?” I ask curiously.

“No,” Midge says in resignation. “She went back to her house yesterday. Won’t return our calls. Hasn’t come into work.”

“You need to go over there and make sure she’s okay,” I growl at Midge.

“We have,” she assures me. “She was polite, opened the door, and told us to go away. That she just wanted some time alone.”

“Fuck,” I mutter as I scrub my hand through my hair.

“So what are you going to do?” she persists.

“I have no clue,” I tell Midge with brutal honesty. “She won’t answer the phone or return any texts to me. But I did figure out what happened.”

“What?” she asks hesitantly.

So I tell her the whole gory truth. About what I’d been able to piece together about that night. Told her everything Rick recounted to me, including my refusal to go to a strip club. How I got blind, stinking drunk off bourbon that Tyler practically poured down my throat, and how ultimately, I could do nothing but assume Tyler set me up since he lied to my face about not knowing Emma was coming in to surprise me.

“He probably drugged you,” Midge says speculatively.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought that,” I tell her. “But I can’t prove it, and it doesn’t matter… I fired him. He’s long gone.”

“Good,” she says. “Now all you have to do is tell Emma all of this. I’m sure she’ll listen.”

“Not if she won’t answer my calls,” I point out.

“I swear,” Midge says with a sigh. “Sometimes, I wonder about that brain in your skull. How about sending her an email? You know she’ll read it.”

Well, fuck.

I am apparently a dumb motherfucker.

“Gotta go,” I tell Midge, and I don’t even let her say another word.

I disconnect and then run to the bedroom where I keep my personal laptop.

Emma

T
he elevator doors
slide silently open, and I step into the marbled foyer of Knight & Payne. The front-desk receptionist, Amanda, looks up at me with surprise.

“Welcome back, Emma,” she says sweetly.

“Thanks,” I say flatly. I don’t want to be here, but I figured if my dad’s back at work, and he had a broken heart so to speak, then I could do the same.

Amanda sniffs at my rebuff and turns her attention back to her computer screen.

I, on the other hand, hitch my shoulders back and head into The Pit.

Rather than turning left to wind my way through the desks to get to my own, I spare a brief glance to see my dad sitting behind his desk, and then turn right. I follow the perimeter of the room, not looking anywhere but the direction I’m walking. When I reach the adjacent wall, I turn left and walk straight toward Midge’s office.

Her secretary looks up from her desk as I approach, a cool smile on her face.

“Can I help you?” she asks pleasantly.

“Nope,” I say and glide right past her. Taking the doorknob to Midge’s office firmly in hand, I turn it and push the door open while her secretary scrambles up from her desk, saying in a frantic voice, “You can’t go in there without an invite.”

Midge is at her desk and her head slowly rises to look at who would dare intrude into her personal space. Her secretary comes in right behind me and says, “I’m so sorry. She just barged right in. Shall I call security?”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t spare her a glance. Instead, I walk right up to one of Midge’s guest chairs and plop down in one. I set my briefcase on the floor and look at Midge expectantly.

Midge stares back at me for a thoughtful moment, her face exquisitely blank. I brace for her to throw me out, but her gaze slides past me and over my shoulder where she says to her secretary, “It’s fine. You can leave us.”