The Comeback (BWWM Interracial Romance Book 7) (6 page)

They wandered around the room, talking to people, and Amber felt a swell of pride at how good Brenton was at doing the social gathering dance properly. He looked gorgeous; he was able to speak intelligently. In the back of her mind, Amber hoped that Kobe would see the press on her attendance at the event. She hoped that he read an article about how good she was looking, about how sharp and intelligent her new boyfriend was. It would serve him right, she thought to herself. Kobe had done her wrong and he deserved all the pain of knowing that she was perfectly happy without him, getting ready to move forward in her life and to put out a new blockbuster album.

Everyone asked about her date, about her new music, and Amber answered as honestly as possible for the situation. She was mindful of what the purpose of the evening was: to lend her star presence to the charity for the evening, and to gain some more respectability in the press for her participation. Her album was getting more and more press as it developed, with speculation about what the subject would be, what her sound would be. Amber kept the specifics to herself as much as possible; everything was kept on as tight a lockdown as possible to avoid leaks.

Later in the evening, she went up onstage, performing one of her biggest hits for the audience—and for Brenton, watching her in the wings. After her song, Amber addressed the audience, and the press with remarks her publicist had penned for her. “I am proud and pleased to be here this evening, and to be supporting women of color in the music industry.” Amber looked around the room. “This is a big event every year, and every year I see more and more faces in the crowd, new people coming up and that’s such a beautiful thing. We all have to do our part to make it easier, better, fairer for women of color in this industry.” Amber went through the practiced piece, and finally came to her ending. “Because I believe in this organization so much, I am donating one quarter of all of my profits from my upcoming album. We need to make this bigger, better, and badder for every woman who wants to pursue a life of music.” The audience gave her a standing ovation.

Finally, it was nearing time to leave, and Amber leaned on Brenton slightly, a little tipsy. “What did you think of my speech?” she asked him as they departed through the back of the venue.

Brent laughed. “I thought it was a great speech, and the performance was even better.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Are you really going to donate a quarter of your profits from the album?”

Amber nodded. “Absolutely. I’m still making royalties on the older albums, and a quarter of what they’re projecting me to make on the new record is a lot to them—but not so much that I’ll miss it.”

“You’re really into helping women in the music industry, huh?”

Amber smiled. “It’s a big thing for me. It’s tough—I mean, you’ve seen it.” She sighed. “But it’s getting better.” Amber considered for a moment, their conversations from earlier in the evening catching up to her slightly fogged-over brain. “Why are you so worried about me meeting Felicity?” she asked Brenton abruptly.

“What? I’m not worried about you meeting her.”

Amber stopped, a few feet away from their waiting car. “If you’re not worried about it, then why do you keep putting it off?”

Brenton’s face went pale. “I—it’s her grandparents.”

Amber rolled her eyes. “It’s always your in-laws. You can’t go out with me after all because they won’t take her. Or I can’t stay the night because you have to go pick her up. Or I can stay the night but I have to leave before they come to drop her off in the morning.” Amber shook her head. “Tell me what the real issue is.”

Brenton pressed his lips together. “It really is them,” he told her. “They give me a hard time over everything—every little thing I do, they’re either disappointed, it’s not good enough, or they do something bigger and better. If I buy Felicity a rocking horse, they buy her a kiddie car. If I get her a coloring book, they buy her a painting kit.”

“We’re not talking about them,” Amber said sharply. “We’re talking about why
you
don’t want
me
to meet Felicity.”

Brenton hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet her—I do want you to meet her. I just don’t know if it’s the right time.”

Her emotions and her slight buzz got the best of her, and Amber raised her voice. “We’ve been seeing each other for months now! I know we’re not all that serious yet, but you could at least introduce us. Call me your friend! Or am I just not good enough to meet your daughter?”

Brenton grabbed at her wildly waving hands. “Shh, Amber. You told me yourself that the press is always waiting for you to act up. Let’s get in the car.”

Amber scowled. “You just want to change the subject again.” But Amber let herself be led to the car.

They rode in silence for a few minutes before she started the topic up again. “If you’re not ashamed of me, if you’re not ashamed to introduce me to your daughter, why do you keep putting it off?”

Brenton shook his head. “I don’t. We’re both busy; we’ve both got a lot going on…”

“No. Uh-uh. Whenever I drop even the slightest hint about meeting her or doing something with her, you make an excuse. Just admit it: you’re ashamed of me.”

“I’m not ashamed of you. She’s just so young, and I don’t want to give her high hopes when I’m not even sure how seriously you’re taking the relationship.”

Amber felt as though she’d been slapped. “How seriously
I’m
taking the relationship?” She scowled at him. “How seriously are
you
taking the relationship that you won’t even let me meet your daughter?”

“I’m serious about it,” Brenton protested. “I’m really serious about it.”

“Then why won’t you let me meet Felicity?” Brenton stared at her in silence. Amber took a deep breath; they were getting closer to Brenton’s house. She made a decision. “You know what? I think we both need some space. I think you need some time to think of just how serious you truly are about us.” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat.

Brenton looked at her, his bright green eyes fading slightly, full of sadness. “If that’s what you want,” he said, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah,” Amber told him, inching away from him on the back seat of the hired car. “That’s what I want.”

Brenton pulled up to his friend Chris’ house, feeling as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Normally, he would have called Amber; normally he would have had plans with her. Over the past several months, any time that he had free from his job as well as from his daughter went to the woman he loved first, and then the other people in his life. But ever since they had fought at a charity event a week ago where Amber had been a guest as well as a performer, things had been chilly between them. Brenton knew that Amber was in the studio; she was spending more and more time there, and a sneaking, creeping suggestion in the back of his mind pointed out that David Underhill, the producer for her new album in progress, was not a bad-looking man.

Brenton knew Amber well enough to know that she would never cheat on him; but he couldn’t blame her if she considered him a rebound after Kobe. He remembered just how hurt she had been by the man who had cheated on her—she would never do that to him, but Brenton would not be surprised if she broke up with him to be with the brilliant producer who was helping her to reinvigorate her career.

Brenton shook the thought and shut off the ignition, taking a deep breath and opening the door of his car. He stepped onto the gravel driveway and looked around him. Chris’ house was always so comfortable—and his friend, who had been in his unit, had left the military a few years ahead of him with the skills and experience needed to live comfortably as a civilian with his wife. At first, Brenton had had more than a little envy; Chris had the happy family life that Brent had wanted from the time his parents had broken up: a wife that loved him, in-laws who thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread, and three well-behaved, healthy kids that he got to spend plenty of time with. But his friendship had outlasted the envy, and Brenton had come to depend on his former brother-in-arms for advice and guidance in more than just adapting to the post-military world.

“Uncle Brent is here!” Lucy, the eldest of Chris’ children, called into the house from the porch where she was playing with paints. A year and a half older than his own daughter, Lucy was an engaging, bright, beautiful child: she had Chris’ tow-head blonde hair, her mother’s blue eyes, and a combination of their personalities. Brent picked her up happily and gave her a big hug, depositing her back in her spot on the floor of the porch before heading to the door.

Chris was a few steps away, crossing the living room with two beers in hand—Lone Stars, of course. It was something they had shared a taste for when they were far from home, a taste of Texas. “You should’ve brought Felicity with you,” Chris said, gesturing to the other two of his children: Jaime, his son, who was the same age as Brenton’s daughter, was playing with blocks in front of the TV, and Jackie, the baby—barely a year old, was sitting with the look in her eyes that said she was about to make another unsteady foray into walking to go after something she wanted.

Brenton cracked his beer and took a long sip. “Her grandparents wanted her,” he said simply. Chris held his gaze for a long moment before nodding his understanding.

“It’s a real shame your mom doesn’t have her more often,” Brenton’s mother had remarried while he was in the military, and she was more involved with her new step-children and her new husband than she was with Brenton or his daughter. His father lived on the east coast, apparently happier to be away from the family altogether. Brenton got the occasional email from the man, but mostly they gave each other space.

“I think she wants to pretend like the past didn’t happen, and I’m a bad reminder of it,” Brenton told his friend, as he sat down on the couch to watch the two youngest children playing. He wished he could have brought Felicity as well; but his in-laws had suggested that he was going to be driving drunk, and insisted that if he didn’t bring his daughter to their place, they would call the cops, or have him investigated. It hadn’t been worth calling their bluff, even if Brenton would never even remotely consider driving drunk whether or not Felicity was in the car. A couple of beers, a meal with Chris and his family, and he would head home sober.

“So what brings you for dinner?” Chris asked. “I mean, I know I make the best barbecue you’ve ever put in your mouth but I would have figured that you’d be with Amber.”

Brent shrugged. He glanced at the distracted, playing kids and then turned his attention back onto his friend. “She’s in the studio today and tonight. Working hard. And, you know I screwed things up.”

Chris laughed, shaking his head. “I expected to hear you were in the dog house. How’d your in-laws like that picture of you and Amber at the charity thing hashing it out?”

Brenton groaned, bringing his free hand to his face and rubbing at his temples. One photographer had managed to grab a shot of Amber and him before they got into the car; it wasn’t a big fight, and from what Brenton understood of the way the entertainment industry worked, it wasn’t even a very big story—after all, the argument hadn’t lasted that long—but the fact that they’d had “a lover’s spat” was common knowledge. “They said that it was only more evidence that Amber was unstable and not at all the kind of person they wanted around their grandchild.”

Chris shook his head and leaned back in the recliner slightly, taking a sip of his beer. “You need to grow some balls and tell them you are her father and that as long as Felicity isn’t being abused, it doesn’t matter what kind of person they want around their grandchild.”

Brenton rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, that would be great. Tell Howard and Betty where to go when they were already threatening to call CPS on me just because I wanted to bring Felicity here.”

Chris’ eyes widened. “Really?”

Brenton nodded. “They claimed that I was going to drive drunk with her in the car. Because that’s the kind of person I am, obviously.”

Chris shook his head. “God, they’re disgusting.”

Brenton nodded. “I’m with you on that one, brother. I just don’t know how to get around them.”

Chris shrugged. “You may end up needing to deal with CPS. I mean, I’d hate to see you have to go through that, but you’re a good dad and you know it. CPS will know it too.”

“I don’t know that Howard doesn’t have some kind of contact in CPS. He could get Felicity taken away from me.”

Chris considered the problem. After a moment, he shrugged. “The way I see it, if you don’t stand up to them sometime, you’re going to end up probably losing Felicity one way or another. You’re never going to have the family you want as long as they’re ruling your life. So sack up, brother—grit your teeth and get through it.”

“I wish it was that easy.” Brenton raised his can of beer and then drained a third of it in a few fast gulps. “Now if only I could solve all my problems by calling bluffs, I’d be a happy man.”

Chris smirked. “Amber?”

Brenton nodded. “What’s going on with her—what’s the issue?”

Brenton shrugged. “I haven’t let her meet Felicity. Partly because of Howard and Betty and partly because I’m not sure how serious she is. I mean… I know how serious I am, but she’s not that long out of her relationship with Kobe. How can I introduce Felicity to her without knowing she’s in it for the long haul?”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “She’s been with you a few months, right? If she was just looking for a rebound, she wouldn’t have stuck around that long. Do you have any reason to think she’s not serious?”

Brenton thought about it for a long moment. “Just… she’s a totally different person when she’s in front of the cameras. I don’t know what part of her is real and what part of it’s the image.”

Chris rolled his eyes, draining his beer. “If she’s a certain way with you when no one’s watching, that’s the real her. You know that—hell; you’ve known her since she was a kid. You’re just gun-shy. Come on, dude, and get your act together.” Chris shook his head. “You’re a great dad, and it isn’t your fault Kelsey died. It’s not your fault your in-laws are assholes. What you gotta do is make the decisions that make the most sense for you and Felicity. If you’re really not willing to let Amber meet her, you gotta ask yourself why.” With that, Chris stood in a quick movement, crushing his empty can and gesturing for Brenton to follow him out to the back yard where a huge brisket was smoking away. Brenton said hello to Vielka, Chris’ wife, and settled into the comforts of his friend’s house, thinking about everything that Chris had said to him. It was a lot of food for thought, for sure.

Amber took a deep breath as the playback came on through her headphones. She had done three takes already, and David had told her each time that her delivery was too cold, too technical. Her mind was a million places at once. She knew for a fact that she wasn’t focusing entirely on the lyrics in front of her. She wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing; she was resting on the automatic technique that years of performing and singing had drilled into her. That might—occasionally—work for a live show, but in the studio, it always came through that she wasn’t actually feeling the music. She closed her eyes, listening to the melody that David had built up around the sparse line she had come up with in her bedroom.

Amber began to sing, focusing on her lyrics, on the meaning behind the song. It was about Brenton; it made it harder—with all the strain and stress of their relationship in the past week since they had had their argument—to even want to focus on the song itself. She heard her voice catch, but recovered, determined to salvage the take. Maybe the catch would even be good. Amber took a deep breath between verses. Kobe had called her that morning; he had left her yet another message that she had deleted unheard, but the call had shaken her. Specters of her relationship with Kobe had filled her life ever since the fight with Brenton—reminders like their song coming on the radio as she drove to the studio, an article about Kobe’s most recent music video showing up on her social media feeds. It was impossible to avoid thinking about him, and to avoid thinking about the fact that her relationship with Brenton seemed to be going so wrong—just the way her life with Kobe had gone wrong.

Before she knew it, Amber was crying outright, shaking from her middle, her voice dying out on the microphone. She heard her own sobs in the headphones, heard the playback cut off. “You okay in there, Amber?”

Amber looked up to see David peering into the studio proper, where she had fallen to her knees. “Yeah—I’m…I think we need a break.” Amber swallowed, scrubbing at her tear-dampened face and shaking her head. “I need to go outside and get some air.”

David responded that she could take as long as she needed. “We’re ahead of schedule anyway. Take your time, babe.”

Amber pulled herself to her feet and stopped long enough to reach into her purse for her phone. She walked through the studio, heading to the secluded area outside, managing somehow to regain her composure as she flipped through her contacts list. For a moment, her gaze lingered on Brenton’s number in her phone; she wanted to talk to him—she needed to hear his voice—but at the same time she was terrified of actually contacting him. Of reaching out to him with the conflict that was raging in her mind. Instead she continued scrolling until she came to Cara’s number.

Amber sank down onto the concrete patio as she waited for her best friend to pick up, hoping that Cara wasn’t out, or doing something that would preclude talking. On the third ring, Amber felt a flood of relief as she heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line. “Hey, Am-bear, what’s up? Thought you were in the studio.”

Amber sighed. “I am. I just had a complete meltdown in the studio, in fact.” She wiped under her eyes carefully with her fingertips.

“What’s up, sweetie?”

Amber hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Should I be with Brenton?”

Amber heard her friend sigh on the other end of the line.

“Yes, you idiot.  Of course you should. You guys are happy together, you obviously love each other, you should be with him.”

“Yeah, but what if it all goes south the same way it did before? He won’t let me meet his daughter; he keeps me completely separate from his real life—it’s like he’s ashamed of me or something!” Amber brought her hand down on the floor. “What if he ends up getting tired of me the same way Kobe did? And starts fooling around while I’m on tour or something?”

Cara laughed. “First of all, Brenton would never cheat on anyone he’s dating—especially now that he has a daughter to think of. He’s going to put her first, and he’d hate to be that horrible a guy and ruin his daughter’s trust in men. Second of all—and I can’t stress this enough—Brenton is not Kobe. He’s a decent guy. You’ve known him since high school! We all have.”

“I’m so scared,” Amber said. “He asked me… when we fought he said he wasn’t sure how serious I was about our relationship.”

“That’s a fair comment,” Cara pointed out. “Are you sure how serious you are? Because it doesn’t sound like you are. It sounds like you’re really unsure.”

“Well—while he’s keeping us from moving forward—” Cara sighed again.

“Baby-girl, what’s keeping you from moving forward? Is it that he won’t let you meet Felicity, or is it that neither of you knows where you stand?”

Amber stared at the ground in silence for a long moment. “Thanks, Cara,” she said finally, smiling slightly.

“Any time, Am-bear. Now get out of that damn studio and go talk to the guy you actually want to talk to.”

Amber hurried back into the studio after ending the call with her best friend and told David that she just wasn’t feeling it; she needed to get home and get some rest.