What Now? (12 page)

Lily
opened the door to her knock and invited her in. Shari was warmly greeted by
the band as she followed Lily into the suite. She wondered if they knew what
had happened although they gave no indication of it. Her eyes automatically
searched for Nick, but he didn’t appear to be around. She chided herself for
being disappointed that he wasn’t. Don’t go there, Shari, she warned herself.

The
buffet had been laid out on the marble-topped island in the kitchen and Lily
invited everyone to dig in now that Shari had arrived. As she surveyed the
offerings of the buffet, Nick emerged from his bedroom and made a beeline for
her.

“How
are you today?” He asked quietly.

“Better.
What about you?”

“Getting
there.”

“This
buffet looks delicious, Lily,” Shari commented, putting some seafood salad on
her plate, a bit of Greek salad and a piece of smoked salmon.

“You
hardly have anything on your plate,” Nick pointed out. “Here, have some of this
ceviche or some sushi.”

“Don’t
be controlling, Nick,” she chided. “I have what I want. Besides, I don’t fancy
raw fish.”

He
held up his hands in mock surrender. He was secretly pleased to see that his Shari
was back. His? Where did that come from?

“Yes,
ma’am. The lady knows what she wants.”

“And
she doesn’t want you,” Steve joked, joining them at the table.

“You’re
not good for a man’s ego, bro,” complained Nick.

“Thanks,
Steve,” Shari said, laughing.

Shari
was glad that some of the heaviness of the morning had lifted from the group,
at least for now, and they could joke around a bit.

After
lunch, Shari told Lily that she had to leave for the airport and Lily gave her
instructions on where they would meet up in Miami. She said her goodbyes to the
rest of the band and headed for the door.

“Hold
up, Shari. I’ll walk you to your room,” offered Nick and she gladly accepted.

“So
what will you be doing until Miami?” he asked as they got in the elevator.

“I’m
going to spend a few days with my mum since she’ll be going to Barbados for Christmas.”

“Barbados?
Awesome! I was there last year. Have you ever been?”

“Not
yet, but I plan to someday. My great grandparents came from Barbados and we
still have family there. I did a family tree a few years ago and managed to
track down some relatives, so my mother has been in touch with them and is
going to visit in Christmas.”

“Really?”

“Yes.
My great grandfather was from Barbados. He helped to build the Panama Canal,
like a lot of Barbadians, and after that was finished he moved to New York and
once he’d established himself he sent for my great grandmother. They had four
children. My grandfather married an Italian immigrant and they had my mother
who married my dad, who was also of mixed race, and they had me.”

“You’re
definitely an exotic mixture.” Shari smiled and changed the subject.

“What
are you going to do with your unexpected holiday?”

“I
think I’ll go visit my parents too. My mother called me this morning to see how
I was and begged me to come and stay for the few days. I’ll use that
opportunity to tell her that you’ll be coming for Christmas.”

“About
that, please don’t feel that you have to. I know Lily put you in an awkward
position.” They were now outside her door.

“I
know I don’t have to, Shari, but I want to. See you in Miami,” he added,
walking away, “and say hello to your mum. Tell her not to stop praying for me.”

Shari
opened her door and went inside, wondering why she felt so disappointed that
Nick hadn’t kissed her again.

Silence
greeted Tim as he unlocked the door of his oceanfront condo and dropped his
suitcases in the foyer. The place had an empty feeling to it that told him that
his wife was out, or she had left again. Strolling into the kitchen, he saw
that the percolator had the remains of coffee in it and there was a cup
draining in the dish rack. At least there weren’t two cups, he observed, so
maybe she’d been alone. With the way things were going, he wouldn’t have been
surprised to walk in and find her in bed with his best friend or found that
she’d left again. At least the joke about the drummer being homeless when he
broke up with his girlfriend didn’t apply to him; he owned the condo free and
clear. If Sarah left, she’d be the one who’d be homeless. She’d sold her place
when they’d gotten married.

Opening
the pantry door, he found a bottle of vodka and a glass and poured himself a
shot. The fridge yielded up some orange juice which he used to add a little
color to his drink. The deck overlooking the beach beckoned to him and offered
a bit of solace that he badly needed. He unlocked and slid back the glass door
and took a deep breath of the fresh air. The brisk breeze seasoned with salt
blew over him, temporarily taking away his tiredness and depression.

However,
by the time he leaned against the hand rails and raised the glass to his lips,
the reality of his situation crashed on him like the waves pounding the sand
just yards away. When he’d been arrested last year for possession, he’d thought
that he was done for, but, thankfully, Brad had gotten some fancy lawyer to get
him off. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to count on Brad for help this
time. Brad had fired him. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually been fired.
Not to mention that he’d been ordered to check into a rehab center or else that
hypocrite, Shari Goodwin, would press charges.

She
wanted it; he knew she did. It was just because Nick came in that made her act
like she didn’t. He tossed back the rest of his drink. What the hell did he
need rehab for? He was fine. He hadn’t had anything in days. Well, two days. He
wondered if his local guy could sort something out for him today.

“Tim?”
Sarah’s voice caused him to stop the search of his contact list. She appeared
in the doorway, looking bewildered.

“Hi,
darlin’,” Tim greeted her, crossing the deck to pull her into an embrace. She
stood stiffly in his arms. Her reception was about as warm as the ocean at this
time of the year.

“I
heard about the tragedy in Chicago. Are you OK?”

“Yeah,
I’m doing better now. The concert in Cincinnati was cancelled because of what
happened in Chicago so we have a few days off.” Shoot, how was he supposed to
tell her he got fired? Maybe Brad would give him another chance if he told him
he’d found a rehab center and he would check himself into it after the tour.

“I
saw you guys on TV yesterday. Did you go to take flowers to the victim’s
families?”

“Nah,
the guys were going today, but I had to catch my plane around the same time.”
That was pretty lame and he could see that Sarah thought so too. “So, how are
you doing?”

“I’m OK.
I’ve started painting again and it’s helping me to deal with stuff.” 

“Good.
Good.”  He sounded distracted.

Sarah
was an artist, although before they’d met she had put her art on the shelf to
pursue a career in advertising so that she could pay the bills. However, after
they’d gotten married, she had started to paint again and had begun to have
fairly good success. She’d claimed that she’d lost her desire to paint when
they’d begun to have trouble in their marriage. Tim really didn’t know what her
issue was. While he was flying from city to city and living in hotel rooms to
earn a living, she was enjoying their condo by the beach with the studio that
he’d added on for her. What did she have to complain about?

“What
about you? Are you and Nick getting on any better?”

“We
have our ups and downs.” What an understatement, especially since it was all
down at the moment. Not meeting her eyes, he walked over to a lounge chair and
settled onto it. She followed him over to the chair.

“Are
you still doing coke?” she asked, looking down at him. Boy, she didn’t believe
in circling the runway. She didn’t understand that he just used it to deal with
the pressure of being in the business. He could handle it, so he wished she
would stop adding to the pressure. And he hoped she wouldn’t start about the
women she believed that he slept with on the road. They didn’t mean anything to
him. 

“I
haven’t had anything for a while.” Two days was a while.

She
gazed steadily at him as if she was trying to discern if he was telling the
truth or not. He must have looked convincing enough because she nodded slightly
and turned to go back inside.

“I’m
going to my studio. I just popped out to buy some supplies. Do you need
anything?”

Only
my wife to love me again and my job back, he thought morosely. “No. I’m fine. I
have everything I need. I’ll see you later. Maybe we can go out to dinner.”

“Sure.” 
She didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

Maybe
I would have had a better reception at the rehab center, he thought, finishing
his drink.

Sarah
closed the door to her studio. It was a beautiful room with light pouring in
through huge windows which also provided a great view of the deck and the
beach. As she looked across at the deck she could see Tim on his cell phone
talking to someone. Probably his supplier. He’d said that he hadn’t used
anything in a while, but she knew it couldn’t have been a long while or he
would have been more agitated. She knew the signs by now. She wished he would
get help. Both times she’d left he’d promised to clean up, but it never lasted.
At least when he was on the road she didn’t have to deal with his habit, but
then she had to deal with seeing him in the media with some woman or the other.
That’s when she’d stopped sleeping with him. After all, she didn’t want to get
some STD.

Their
marriage was dead. She should just go ahead and call the undertaker, a good
divorce lawyer. She didn’t really know what was stopping her. Did she still
love Tim? Looking at him stretched out on the deck chair, she felt nothing but
pity for him. She hated to see him destroying himself that way. Why couldn’t he
just clean up and be the man she’d met four years ago? He had been such fun to
be with and he’d been so crazy about her. What had happened? Did it start when
the label had begun to promote Nick and dropped the name of the band? She could
understand how he felt, but it wasn’t as if they were suffering financially
because of it. If anything, the band was making more money from tours and
records than ever before.

Something
nagged at her. Tim had said he was home for a few days but, judging by the
amount of luggage he had left by the front door, he wasn’t home for only a few
days. If that was so, he would have sent on a couple of bags to the next city
in the tour. Wait, it was here in Miami, wasn’t it? Maybe he was telling the truth.
She would soon find out.

She
dug in her handbag and pulled out her cell phone. She typed in “Nick” and Nick
Badley’s number popped up. If her paintings stopped selling she could always
auction off his number, she thought wryly. She was joking, of course. She liked
Nick in spite of his less than pristine image. He’d always been good to her and
had called her and given her his number when she had left Tim the first time.
It was because of him that she’d given Tim another chance.

Clicking
on the number, she sat down and angled her chair so that she could see if Tim
got up. She didn’t want him overhearing her conversation.

“Sarah?”
Nick sounded surprised to hear her.

“Hi,
Nick. How are you doing?”

“I’m OK,
considering everything that happened. Are you alright?”

“Yes,
I’m fine. Tim’s home for a few days and I’m inspired to paint. What more could
I ask?”

“Great.”
He waited for her to continue, knowing that if everything was so fine she
wouldn’t be calling him.

“Nick,
is everything OK with you and Tim?”

“Why
do you ask?”

“Since
you’ve answered my question with another question, I know that you’re avoiding
giving me an answer.”

Nick
gave a brief laugh. “You’re not slow, Sarah. Look, I’m sorry, but the truth is
that Tim has been fired from the band.”

“Fired?”
That was the last thing Sarah expected to hear. “What for? Or can I guess? It’s
drugs, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,
Sarah. Among other things.” No way would he tell her what “other things” he was
referring to. She had enough on her plate without hearing that her husband
tried to sexually assault another woman.

“I
don’t know what to do, Nick. He needs help, but he won’t admit it. He told me
that he hasn’t had anything for a while, but I’m not convinced. He said that he
was home for a few days! He never said anything about getting fired.” Tears
pricked her eyes as hopelessness settled on her. She suddenly felt too drained
to even contemplate picking up her paintbrush. How could she feel so inspired
to paint one minute and so totally empty the next?

“I’m
sorry, Sarah. Brad gave him an ultimatum and told him to check himself into
rehab because he isn’t getting any better and he’s angry all the time and not
performing at his best.”

“What’s
he going to do, Nick? The band is his life.”

Nick
felt bad, but then the image of Shari’s terrified face caused his heart to
harden.

“You
need to convince him to get help or he’s not going to like the consequences.”

“What
do you mean?” Sarah sensed that there was something that Nick wasn’t saying,
but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to hear what it was anyway, even as she
asked the question.

“I
mean that he’ll find it hard to get back into a band again,” Nick prevaricated.

Sarah
nodded distractedly although Nick couldn’t see her. “OK, Nick. Thanks. I’ll
talk to him and see if he will listen to me.”

“Good
luck. Call me anytime you need to.” 

“Thanks.” 

Nick
disconnected the call. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Sarah just how low her
husband had sunk. He really hoped that Tim would try and sort himself out.  He
knew of too many people in the business who had messed up their lives and their
careers because of drugs. That’s why he’d stopped that scene a few years ago.
He had too much at stake to mess around with drugs.

Tim
disconnected the call angrily. He’d been calling his guy every five minutes and
the call was going straight to voicemail. He needed something now. The more he
thought about not being able to contact his man, the more anxious he felt. He
didn’t know where he could go to score in his town and be discreet about it.

The
sound of the sliding door made him close in eyes in frustration.  What did
Sarah want now? He thought she’d be engrossed in her painting for a long time.

“Tim?
Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fired?”

He
sat up abruptly. “Who the hell told you that?”

“I
just spoke to Nick –”

“Nick
told you I’ve been fired? I bet he couldn’t wait to call and tell you why. But
it’s a lie –”

“He
didn’t tell me anything and I’m the one who called him. I assume it was because
of your drug use. Is there another reason?”

Tim
didn’t answer, but she could see that he was fuming inside.

“Tim,
you need to get help. I want to help you, but if you’re not willing to help
yourself then I’m out of here. I can’t take this anymore. I really tried, but
this is the last time. You either check into rehab or I’m leaving and for good
this time.” She quickly turned and walked hurriedly back inside, heading for
the solace of her studio.

Tim
dropped his head into his hands in despair. Everything felt as if it was
against him. He’d lost his job and he was about to lose his freedom if he
checked in to rehab and, if he didn’t give up his freedom, he’d lose his wife.
This was all Nick’s fault. He seemed to live a charmed life while his seemed to
be cursed. Well, if he was going down, then Nick was going with him.