Making Trouble (11 page)

“She didn’t, Rob,” I choked.
“You did.”

I got all the way to the front door before he
choked out my name.

I glanced back, up all those stairs he had
once carried me up—the very first night I spent in his house. I looked at him and remembered that night, how scared I was to tell him I was pregnant—and how surprised and thrilled I’d been at his response. He’d been so happy. We’d both been so happy.

“Sabrina. I love you.” He said the words like it was the last time he might have the chance. “
If you need time, if you need space… Just know I’ll be here when you get back.”

I nodded, putting my hand on the doorknob, not trusting my voice.

“Just… please… come back.”

That was the last thing I heard before going out the door.

It was funny how easy it was to sing about your heart breaking when it actually was. Or, maybe it wasn’t so funny.
I certainly wasn’t laughing most nights. Most nights, I cried myself to sleep, as quietly as I could manage, because tour busses, even big ones, didn’t exactly overflow with privacy. Not that anyone noticed. I was the opening act and I slept on the bus with the crew, most of whom were drunk or high by bedtime. I’d gone on tour with Trouble, but that had been an entirely different experience. I’d been with Rob then and his tour bus was a palace compared to this.

Not that it mattered. I didn’t notice how miserable it w
as most of the time, that the bathroom toilet sink work, that it smelled mostly like stale farts, cigarettes and beer, that my mattress sank so much in the middle it was like sleeping in a cocoon. Off stage, I might as well have been dead. It was easy to lose the last five pounds Arnie had grumbled about. The food on the road was all ordered in and I didn’t have any appetite. Besides, I was nauseous all the time anyway. Probably motion sickness from being on the bus all the time. I ate enough to keep my stomach from hurting and drank water like a fish. Tour busses were hot, and being under the lights was like burning in hell, which felt just about right.

I
t was only when I stepped out onto the stage that I came alive.

I put everything into those performances, night after night.

And before I fell asleep, I checked my phone for the zillionth time for a message or a text from him¸ knowing of course there would be none, because I was the one who told him I needed time, I needed space. And he was giving me that. It was just like Rob, to give me exactly what I’d asked for instead of what I really wanted. It was just like him to make the sacrifice, to tear out his own heart to make me happy.

Except I wasn’t happy. This wasn’t what I wanted, not really. 

I wanted him to protest. I wanted him to come after me.

But this had been my choice. My call.
This a personal hell of my own making.

“Great show, little lady.” Jimmy Voss caught me
coming out of the bus, my stomach insisting I find something to eat before bed.

“You too.” I gave him a tired smiled. “Picked the perfect venue for the recording.”

They’d recorded our live show that night and the crowd had been great. Sometimes I thought the energy of the crowds was the only thing keeping me alive. That, and my calls from home—Katie, Celeste, Sarah. They all told me how Rob was doing. The album was in the can and he spent all day in the music room, according to Celeste. He didn’t talk to anybody. Daisy had called and told me she was still feeding him, although he wasn’t eating as much as she would like and he was losing weight.

“You
were quite a find.” Jimmy grinned. “The crowds love you.”

“Thanks.”

“Where you headed?” he called as I sidestepped and went past him.

“I need a sandwich.”
I glanced over my shoulder, seeing him watching me walk away.

“I’ll say,” he snorted,
his gaze sweeping over me. “Come on, I know a great little diner.”

“No, that’s okay…”
I hesitated, but my stomach was growling.

“I insist.”
He waved me toward him and I went, reluctant but resigned. It was Jimmy Voss asking me to dinner—who was I to refuse?

I found it surreal to be pulling up to a diner at nearly midnight in a white stretch limo.

“You don’t do anything small, do you?” I had laughed when Jimmy insisted we use the band’s limo to go to dinner.

“Why live small when you can live big?” Voss had
winked, waving me into the car.

“What a great place.”
I looked around as we stepped inside at the art deco décor. It was right out of the 1950s with red upholstered stools at the counter and red leather booths. The floor was black and white tile and there were old, restored Coke and Pepsi signs adorning the walls.

“This used
to be a juke joint in the seventies.” Voss sat across from me in a booth, since the sign up front said ‘Seat Yourself.’

“You’re kidding me.”
I glanced around, trying to picture it.

“I played here with Bonnie Raitt
—and my brother.”

“Bonnie Raitt!
” I exclaimed, picking up a menu. They were already on the tables. “And your brother. My God, such a loss. He was such an amazing musician. But at least you’re carrying on the family tradition.”

“That I am.
Fighting the good fight.” He winked, leaning back in his seat as the waitress approached with a pad and a pen. She was wearing a poodle skirt and saddle shoes. At least they didn’t make her wear roller skates, I thought.

“I’ll have a salad, Italian dressing on the side, and water with lemon,
” I told her.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Jimmy shook his head, plucking the menu from my hands. “
Two Muddy Waters specials. Extra grease. And bring two of those Blueshound milkshakes.”

“Sure thing, honey.” The waitress winked at him, writing down the order.

“I’ll explode,” I protested when she left. I wondered if she knew who he was. I saw her looking at him when she was calling the order in through the window. There was no one else in the whole restaurant, but it was pretty late.

“I’ll pick up the pieces,”
he promised. “You look tired. Being on the road getting to you?”

“A little.”
I made a face. “It’s hard to sleep. Makes me understand how you can get addicted on the road. You travel all night, you need something to wake you up for the show and something to put you to sleep after.”

“That’s abo
ut the size of it.” He laughed. “Most of seventies is a blur to me. I didn’t come off all of the hard stuff until the late eighties. But I don’t recommend getting hooked.”

“No.” I smiled and thanked the waitress who brought two waters—with lemon. “
So far I’ve been able to avoid it.”

“Well, good for you.”
He took a sip of his water, studying me over the rim. “If I thought you’d take me up on it, I’d invite you to sleep on my bus. It’s got to be better than the Heart Attack Cadillac.”

“Is that what they call the crew’s bus
?” I laughed.

“Honestly—I’m not trying to be forward. You’re a beautiful girl, and if you weren’t engaged, well… I won’t say I wouldn’t give it the old college try.
” He dropped me a wink as he put his glass down on the Formica table. “But you are, and I respect that.”

“I know you do.”
It was true. He’d been nothing but a perfect gentleman. So had his band and crew. Being the opening act was something entirely different than touring with Trouble. In the past, I was only important because I was standing next to Rob. Out here on the road, everyone deferred to me, went out of their way to get me things—like extra pillows and Dasani bottled water instead of Aquafina at my request. It was a little unsettling.

“Good.”
He gave a satisfied nod. “So that settles it—you’ll move to my bus. I want to keep a better eye on you.”

“Maybe.”
The thought of comfier accommodations was tempting. That dip in my mattress was just getting bigger and my back was killing me.

“I thought you might like dessert first.” The waitress put two of the biggest milkshakes I’d ever seen in front of
us—and then added the mixing tins too. They were both a strange blue color and I couldn’t fathom their flavor just by looking at them.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Voss thanked her and she smiled, her ponytail flipping as she walked away, and I was pretty sure she knew who he was.

“Chocolate!” I announced as I hesitantly tasted the milkshake. The blue color had to be artificial, hence the “Blueshound” moniker. I moaned as I took another long sip, swallowing the sweet, milky chocolate heaven in huge brain-freeze inducing gulps. “Oh my God, I’ve missed milkshakes. This is fabulous!”

“They make the best milkshakes I’ve ever had.
” He plucked his maraschino cherry off the top of a cone of whipped cream and plucked it off the stem with his teeth. “So how is the fiancé?”

“Fine.” I had
been pretending with everyone, I might as well continue the charade, I decided. No one knew that the main reason I’d agreed to go on tour was because Rob and I were “on a break.”

“Have you heard from him today?” Voss raised his eyebrows at my perfunctory res
ponse. “After that article in The Enquirer, the rest of the press is going to pick up on it like piranha on a bloody cow.”

“What article?”
I frowned, touching my fingers to my forehead. Brain-freeze.

“You didn’t hear?” He d
ug his smart phone out of his pocket, fingers gliding on the screen. Then he handed it over to me. “Look.”

I saw the headline and my heart sank.
No.
It couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening. How?

Trouble! Rock Star Rob Burns Kills Father!

I didn’t have to read the article, although I scrolled through and skimmed it anyway while Jimmy drank his shake and watched me. It was just about what you’d expect from The Enquirer—sensational more than factual. They cited a source “close to the rock star.”

Catherine.

It had to be.

Had my visit prompted her to do this, to reveal what she’d kept secret so long?

“Is there any truth to it?” Voss put his phone back into his pocket when I handed it over. “These rags—they’ll make up anything. They once said I thought I’d been abducted by aliens.”

I smiled in spite of myself, and that gave me a little hope. Maybe no one would believe it.
How was Rob dealing with this? I could imagine Celeste was having a heart attack. Arnie too. What would this do to Trouble? And Rob… having his secret revealed like this. He had to be devastated. My heart instantly clenched and my throat closed, just thinking about him. I longed to put my arms around him so much they ached.

“
Unfortunately, in this case… it’s all true.” I confessed reluctantly, glancing up as the waitress brought over two of the biggest hamburgers I’d ever seen. There was a pile of French fries on each plate too. “I didn’t find out until just before we left on tour.”

“Thanks,” Voss said, tipping her a little salute as she put the plates down and asked if we needed anything e
lse. She blushed when he complimented her legs in her poodle skirt. Typical Jimmy—incorrigible flirt.

I didn’t think I’
d have an appetite after seeing that article, but I was wrong. I was so hungry, and it had been months since I’d indulged in red meat—let alone greasy, fatty red meat. I dug in, voracious.

“He was just a kid,” Jimmy remarked, wiping his chin with his napkin. They were very greasy burgers. The bun underneath was getting
deliciously soggy in my hand. “Do you know the circumstances?”

“I didn’t stick
around long enough to find out,” I admitted, feeling horribly guilty about that, dipping a French fry into my milkshake.

“I
imagine they were extenuating,” he said, looking amused at my strange dipping sauce as I ate the fry.

“Yes, I’m sure they were.”

Of course they were. How could they not be?

I could imagine Rob killing, but only in a few circumstances. I
f he was protecting someone, maybe. It was the only instance I could really imagine, unless it had been an accident. Had it been an accident? The paper only said it had been “drug-related.” I knew his mother had been an addict, before she went to jail and her children were taken away from her.

Oh Rob… I wanted to see him, hold him, talk to him, wrap ourselves in a cocoon, away from the world.
Because now the world knew. The world knew that Rob and Tyler were brothers. And that Sarah, who had been out of the spotlight so far, was their younger sister. The publicity machine would start to run. TMZ would have a field day. We always had the occasional photographer scaling the walls, trying to get pictures, especially pool-side. They seemed determined to catch me nude, although so far they’d only been lucky enough to get me in a bikini.

But now, the house
must be getting barraged. I imagined photographers and reporters outside the gates, calling all of Rob’s numbers, calling Celeste, Arnie. I reached into my pocket, realizing I’d silenced my phone before the show and hadn’t turned it back on. The front screen had blown up with text and phone messages, many from numbers I didn’t know. So they were calling me too.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket, feeling sick to my stomach. I didn’t know if it was the news or all the junk food I’d just eaten that my system was clearly not used to.

“He’s a good guy, your Rob.” Voss sucked up the last of his milkshake.

I nodded, swallowing hard. He was a good guy. In the end, I knew that. He was
my
good guy. And I’d walked away from him before he could even explain.

“He clearly loves you.”

“I know.” I pushed my plate away. I’d eaten almost all of the burger and more than half the fries. The milkshake was just a memory. I was stuffed and feeling woozy. “It’s just… Jimmy, the thing is… he didn’t tell me. He lied. It felt like such a betrayal. I had to find out from…”