Deep (14 page)

“We’ll sort it out between us, like you wanted.” He seemed so calm, while I was anything but. “It’ll be okay, Liz.”

“That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in me.”

“We’re having a kid. We gotta start somewhere, right?”

There were scuff marks on my favorite boots. Quite a few of them. At least I wouldn’t be growing out of my shoes. My clothes, on the other hand, would probably need replacing before long. Most of my things were a little worn or were bought secondhand. Not as if I’d have been willing to ask Mal or Anne for a handout to fund a flashy new maternity wardrobe. They did so much for me already. It would be bizarre to not have to worry about money. We hadn’t grown up with much. I couldn’t really remember a time when money hadn’t been an issue.

“Right,” I mused.

“No big deal.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

“I appreciate you being willing to monetarily support us. That’s going to make a huge difference.” I told the floor, because looking at him seemed too hard just then. “It’s a real weight off my shoulders.”

“Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry about last night. And this morning. I’m just … I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Of course.” I smiled as bright as bright could be. “We’ll be friends for Bean’s sake.”

“Bean?”

My smile grew more genuine. “In the early stages they’re kind of bean shaped and sized.”

“Oh. Right.” His fingers lay laced in front of him, jiggling yet again. For a second, his gaze landed in the region of my belly before darting away again. “Give me a chance to catch up, get used to the idea. Then we’ll talk some more.”

“Okay.”

“And of course we’ll be friends,” he said. “We
are
friends.”

“Of course.”

He smiled back at me. But I don’t think either of us was feeling anything but fear just yet.

CHAPTER SEVEN

While the guys were down at the Chateau Marmont in L.A. being interviewed by
Rolling Stone
magazine, up in Portland a complete stranger was checking out my girl bits. The fancily framed medical degrees hanging on her office wall did nothing to detract from the awkwardness of where she put her gloved fingers.

Yep, going to the OB/GYN was just the best.

Everything with Bean was fine, by the way. And hearing her heartbeat for the first time rocked my world. She was real. This was real. I was actually going to be a mother. Amazing.

With the band touring and Ben’s ban from Mal and Anne’s apartment (also, I’m pretty sure he was avoiding me, despite all his fine words), it was a full four weeks after he filled my humble bank account to bursting before we laid eyes on each other again. It took that long for me to stop constantly barfing and to be given the go-ahead to travel. Due to having my head in the toilet, I’d missed out on Vancouver, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, and L.A. Anne and I met up with the band in Phoenix. We arrived near the end of their concert, having been delayed by a storm.

Sam met us and took us to the side of the stage to watch the encore. It was cool to see Stage Dive play live again. I was sitting on an empty box behind a massive screen that projected the happenings out to the stadium audience. I couldn’t see the people, but I could hear them. Roadies, set construction workers, and similar were also hanging out, waiting.

The minute the show was done, Mal attacked Anne. The man was all over her like a rash, rubbing his sweaty self against her and basically dry-humping in public. She didn’t seem to mind. We didn’t hang around, everyone heading straight to the hotel. Apparently any interviews and meet-and-greets were done before the show.

I got a welcoming chin tip from Ben, but that was it in the rush.

The line of luxury black Lexuses crawled to a stop as we neared the swanky hotel’s back entrance. Hands battered at the windows, people struggling to get close enough to press their faces up against the darkened glass.

It was freaky.

Dave and Ev were already inside, having been in the first vehicle. Ben, Lena, and Jimmy jumped out of the vehicle in front of us. Immediately, Lena and Jimmy hurried through the corridor made by security, into the safety of the hotel. But Ben delayed, signing autographs and shaking hands.

There were so many people out there. A veritable sea of women and men both, crying, screaming, and carrying on. I’d known how big the guys were, but knowing it and seeing it were two entirely different things. There were even TV crews among the mix, cameras catching it all.

“Shit,” I whispered, hunching down.

“Someone can’t keep a secret,” said Anne, sitting between Mal and me on the backseat.

Mal just shrugged. “Where we’re staying always gets out. This is the norm. Get used to it, ladies.”

A black-clad security person opened the door and the clamor hit me. It was staggering. A wall of mindless, maximum-volume, gray noise. Sweat wet my back but my mouth dried to nothing. Anne nudged me gently, nodding toward the door and the batshit-crazy crowd beyond. I swallowed hard and nodded back. Like it or not (
not!)
, we were going out there. Generally, agoraphobia wasn’t much of an issue (or enochlophobia, if you want to get technical about it). It didn’t stop me from doing anything. Get me anywhere near a loud swarming mass of people, however, and I’m rarely at my best.

I cautiously stepped down, feeling my way across the concrete. All of the flashes from the cameras were dazzling my eyes.

Crap.

The crowd surged forward, closing in, and the line of security struggled to hold them back. People were yelling shit, none of it decipherable over the sound of my heartbeat pounding behind my ears. They were chanting a name, and from the shape of their lips, I’m pretty sure it was Mal’s.

I stood frozen, gaping, totally immobile. Fuck. Nope. Couldn’t do it. What if I somehow tripped or got trod on or misstepped and accidentally hurt Bean?

Before I could turn tail and run back to the car, however, a strong arm wrapped around me, pulling my body in against the safety of his.

“I’ve gotcha,” he said, his breath warming my ear.

I wasn’t up to speaking.

Ben hustled me down the narrow corridor formed by security and into the building. Both of his arms were around me, holding me tight until he had to remove one to punch the button for the elevator. Cool air soothed my hot face while I concentrated on getting back my breath. God, what an idiot I was, losing it like that. Some great mother or psychologist I’d make.

Behind us, Mal and Anne were still out there, barely visible among the crowd.

“Let’s go.” Ben’s hand slid down to mine, grabbing hold to tow me into the elevator.

“Aren’t they coming? What are they doing?”

The elevator doors slid closed.

“With Mal, it could be anything. Don’t worry, they’re fine.”

I craned my neck, necessary for viewing him at close range. His hair was a little longer, tied back in a tiny man bun, his beard neatly trimmed. Still beautiful, damn it. His T-shirt, plain black with an Arizona postcard printed on the front, fit just right, being neither too big nor too small. The tang of salty sweat lingered in the air around him. I wanted to bury my face in his chest and breathe deep, over and over again, despite the scent of booze. I just wanted to get as close to him as physically possible. One day those feelings would fade. Hopefully one day soon.

He looked down at me with a tight smile, still holding on to my hand. The smile definitely didn’t make it to his eyes. If anything, I’d say the man looked nervous.

“Sorry about wigging out,” I said.

With a low digital tone, the doors slid open.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and let go of my hand, instead applying gentle pressure low on my back to guide me forward. His motions were sure, his steps steady. However much he’d had to drink, he was clearly still coherent. “C’mon.”

Cream carpet shushed our steps, baby chandeliers lighting our way. It wasn’t very different from Vegas, with the same pricey, luxurious appearance. Another couple of security guys prowled about up here, keeping an eye on things.

“Doesn’t that bother other customers?” I asked, nodding in their direction.

“Band’s got this floor. You’re two doors down in Mal and Anne’s suite.” Ben held up a card to the swipe thing. The little light turned green and he pushed the door open. “Might as well come on in for a minute.”

“Okay.” Not exactly a warm welcome. Man, this was all so hatefully awkward.

Inside, his suite was big, with a nice view and lots of comfy-looking couches in shades of beige. Quite a collection of liquor bottles covered the side table, the only visible trace of any rock ’n’ roll lifestyle in the otherwise pristine room.

None of my business what he’d been up to the night before. None at all.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” We sat down opposite each other. “The morning sickness has eased up.”

“Great.”

“Yeah.”

A nod.

“Thanks for the texts,” I said. “That was good of you.”

“No big deal.”

Morning and night, he’d sent me the same brief almost impersonal question:
U ok?
I’d responded in kind:
Fine! Great! Terrific!
A smiley face now and then. It wasn’t as if I could tell him I’d spent the morning hurling, feeling three days dead, with my emotions all over the place, my breasts aching, and my brain slowly being pickled by hormones. Things were too weird between us for such brutal honesty. Besides, he had a lot on his mind, with the concert and all. So instead I’d whined to Anne, and she’d been good enough not to tell me it was my own damn fault. The look lingered in her eyes now and then, but I could ignore it. No point feeling sorry for myself. Onward and upward—or outward as the case with my womb might be.

My hand strayed to my tiny baby bump, barely visible beneath my blue tank top, and Ben’s gaze followed. He rubbed the side of his hand against his lips, eyes stark. The look he gave my abdomen was one of great fear. I couldn’t take it.

“Do you have a juice?” I asked.

“Sure.” The man leapt out of his seat, obviously eager to be gone. He moved to the side cabinet where the bar fridge was cunningly concealed. The room was so silent. When he opened the small juice bottle, the pop of the air seal being broken made me jump.

“Maybe I should get going,” I said, rising to my feet. “Leave you to it.”

“But your juice…”

All of a sudden, the front door crashed open and a party walked in. There could be no other description. Laughter, beer, men and women, they all poured into the expensive suite until the room was close to capacity.

“Epic show,” yelled a lanky guy with long black hair and a woman attached to his hip.

He and Ben smacked palms. “It was good.”

Their talk got drowned out by Metallica. A tall guy covered in tats broke a beer off from his six-pack and thrust it into my hand. I took it out of sheer instinct, the wet can chilling my skin.

“Hey,” he said, giving me a grin. Pale red hair sat spiked up, and you really had to give it to him, he had a nice face. “I’m Vaughan.”

“Lizzy. Hi.”

“Didn’t see you here last night. I’d have definitely remembered you.”

What a flirt. Must have been the boobs. I’d done okay in the past, but I wouldn’t call myself a man magnet. Especially not in a room where half the women looked and dressed like lingerie models.

“Ah, no,” I said. “I only got in this evening.”

Vaughan opened a beer for himself, setting down the six-pack on the coffee table. “A fan, or attached to the band somehow?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Both?” His eyes lit with interest. “Well, you’re in Ben’s room, so I’ll assume you’re a friend of his.”

I just smiled. “How about you? How do you fit in here?”

“I play bass for the warm-up band, Down Fourth.”

“Hey, wow! I’ve heard of you guys. You’re great,” I said, clapping my hands all enthused. You’d think I’d never met a famous musician before.

His grin grew broader. Way to be cool, me.

“I really love that song you do … Shit…”

He laughed while my face slowly started to burn.

“No, I know the name.” How embarrassing and frustrating. “I do. I had it on repeat just the other day.”

“It’s fine.”

“Don’t tell me.” I closed my eyes, searching for the information inside my head. To have my own body rebelling against me, turning me into one big giant, idiotic walking baby-making machine. It wasn’t fair. “Just give me a minute.”

He laughed at me some more.

“Gah. Stupid pregnancy hormones.” I stopped dead.

The whites of Vaughan’s eyes suddenly seemed huge and glaringly bright. Yet again I faced down man fear. I don’t know why. It’s not like there could be any possible chance it was his kid I carried. The irony of a guy who got down to death metal being scared of a pregnant girl was not lost on me.

Way to keep a secret. The minute I said it, I wanted to slap myself silly. Either that or buy myself a muzzle. My pregnancy had been kept under the general populace’s radar, and I really wanted to keep it that way.

“I’d prefer that information didn’t get repeated,” I said, dropping my voice and moving a little closer to the man. “It’s just that it’s early days, and—”

“Vaughan.” Ben stuck his hand out to the man with an excessive amount of male zest. “How you doing?”

“Yeah, good, Ben.”

“See you met Liz.” He pushed the long since requested juice into my spare hand, liberating the beer from my other. Then he cracked the ale open and drank deep.

“Yeah, we were just talking,” said Vaughan, the fear of babies happily gone from his face, replaced once more with his friendly smile. Thank goodness. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything. “Turns out she’s a fan.”

“She is?”

“I am,” I confirmed. “I had ‘Stop’ on repeat all last week.”

Nailed it.

“How about that.” Ben’s smile looked about as natural, and as comfortable, as a polyester pantsuit in June. Whatever he was up to, it wasn’t good. Then, just to confirm my thoughts, he slid his arm around my neck, pulling me in close. Only not as you would a girlfriend or a lover. Nope, nothing like that at all. “Liz is Mal’s new sister-in-law. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”