Читать книгу In For Keeps / Under His Touch - Taryn Belle, Cathryn Fox - Страница 16

“DID YOU SAY PARIS? You must mean the town in Texas, right?” Kiki’s father, Lawrence, chuckled over the phone.

“No, Dad, I mean the real deal,” Kiki said. Moving toward the window of her hotel room, she pulled the gauzy curtains wider to take in the nighttime view. The Eiffel Tower, lit up in the dark, was framed in the distance as perfectly as a postcard. She still couldn’t believe she was in the city she’d only ever dreamed of going to, staying at the famous Hotel George V no less. If only she could be experiencing its romance with Dev at her side instead of just in her head.

She banished the thought.

“I wish I could show it to you, Dad. Do you know what I had for lunch today? Two chocolate croissants. Well, it might have been three—”

“Three croissants, huh?” Lawrence cut in. “Is that just ‘when in Rome,’ or has something got you stressed out?”

Kiki sighed; she should have known she couldn’t get one by her father, who understood her better than anyone on earth. It was 5 p.m. back in Atlanta, and Kiki could just picture him sitting in his favorite armchair with his Time magazine and his black coffee. She could see the lines around his eyes that fanned out like rays of sunshine, the head of hair that was now fully gray. Looking at photos of him from when she was a toddler, it was hard to believe the person with the smooth skin and sandy hair holding her up like a prize was the same man. She knew her mother’s departure had aged him, even if he rarely talked about it. Lawrence Becker was a man of action more than words; when it became clear his wife wasn’t coming back, he’d simply risen to the task, doing his best to raise his only child on his own until he’d eventually remarried.

Kiki sighed. “I’m fine, Dad. My new job is...interesting. It’s just...” She paused, wondering how much she should say. Though she longed to spill her guts to someone about Dev, that was a conversation better saved for a girlfriend. But there was something else on her mind that she knew she could unload on her father. “This is a little crazy, but I found a woman who could be Mom. I haven’t reached out to her yet, but I will soon. And I guess I’m a little scared.”

Kiki knew there would be silence, but it seemed to stretch on forever. “Well. I know how important this is to you,” Lawrence replied finally. “I’ll say what I’ve always said about it—that if you find her, your life will never be the same. That’s not necessarily good or bad. Just be prepared, that’s all. She might not be what you’re expecting.”

“I know. And this woman is in Sydney, so it’s probably a dead end.” She hesitated. “Unless—unless you can think of any reason she’d end up there?” Kiki knew the question was as good as hypothetical, but she still had to ask it. Her father had always refused to say much about her mother—especially when it came to possible reasons for her leaving them—and while she admired his neutrality, she sometimes wished he’d be more forthcoming.

“Nothing comes to mind, honey. Sydney isn’t a place she ever mentioned.”

Kiki nodded resignedly. “That’s what I thought. But since I’m going to be there anyway...”

“Indeed. It’s worth a try.” When he paused, Kiki knew the subject was closed. “Deirdre will be sorry to have missed you,” Lawrence said after clearing his throat. “Why don’t I have her call you when she’s back from the library?”

“No, Dad, it’s okay. It’s almost midnight here and I have an early morning.” Kiki sank down on her bed, trying to ignore the familiar tug of guilt she always felt when it came to her stepmother. Her father had married Deirdre when Kiki was ten, and she’d tried hard to form a bond with her stepdaughter. But back then Kiki was still convinced her mother would return and that when she did, Deirdre would go right back to where she came from. And though logic and reason told her adult self that it was a ridiculous notion, wasn’t there a tiny part of her that still wanted it to be so?

After she hung up, Kiki sat on her bed staring at the wall in front of her. She’d booked the hotel rooms, so she knew Dev was on the other side of it.

Or was he?

She’d been avoiding him as much as she could since that night in his dressing room. It was an impossible situation. Sleeping with him again was sure to end in heartbreak, and watching him move on would be excruciating—either way, she lost. But she had to stop kicking herself for getting into this situation and keep her eye on the prize: Sydney.

Dev started awake from a thin sleep. How long had he been out? His bedside lamp was aglow and the Netflix show he’d been watching was still playing, showing a young couple in the middle of an argument. He’d probably only dozed off for a few minutes, as per his regular pattern of sleeping and waking throughout the night after a show.

Staring up at the ceiling, Dev focused on making sure his head was straight. One by one he recited the facts. He was in Paris. Tonight’s audience had been wild enough to get security involved when two women tried to climb the stage. His hand had been sore, so he’d taken a non-opioid painkiller along with his usual pills. After the show he’d downed two bottles of water and greeted a few VIP fans. Then he’d taken a limo to the George V for his last night in a hotel; as of tomorrow the band would be using their tour buses for the remainder of the European dates. And even if the idea of being on a metal tube for hours on end filled him with dread, at least it was familiar. It was something a little closer to home than this damn hotel room.

An Ambien would put him out. He should take one, he thought. But the fact that he hadn’t cracked that bottle yet felt like a small victory—even if it meant lying in bed drowning in regret and self-doubt. He gave his pillow a hearty punch and closed his eyes, wishing for oblivion. But instead, memories of his first tour tumbled through his head. Twenty years old, nearly a solid year on the road, homesick and scared shitless. After his first show, he’d learned to dull his nerves with whatever he could get his hands on to keep from disappointing anyone. He’d discovered that there were so many people to keep happy—his record label, his booking agent, his business manager, his tour manager, his fans, the press. He would have dropped out right then and there if it hadn’t been for the money he owed his record label. Something no one had told him before he got famous was that the million-dollar advance that had seemed so huge would get eaten up by recording fees, management, lawyers and taxes, leaving him with almost nothing. On the day his first album went platinum, he had less than five thousand dollars in his bank account and an increasing debt to his record label, forcing him to continue touring to pay it off. After that he’d figured out that even the most successful musicians didn’t get wealthy by playing music—they got it by accepting endorsements. Pushing everything from watches to guitars to foreign cars were what had padded his bank account over the years. That took care of his money troubles, but nothing could fix the homesickness and loneliness.

Dev opened his eyes again. On TV, the same couple who had been arguing were now furiously ripping each other’s clothes off, evidently having made up. Dev nearly groaned aloud. For a guy with a near-fucking-permanent hard-on, a year and a half minus his one night with Kiki was a hell of a long time to go without. Sometimes he thought it would be easier to just go back to his old ways, when he’d stay up all night partying with the band and fans before taking his pick from the gorgeous women presented to him to bring home. But everything had changed. After the shows everyone went home to their families now, even Scotty and Stuart, who got on to FaceTime with their wives and kids the moment they could escape. But for Dev, after being showered by attention all day long, home was an empty hotel room or tour bus. And he was so goddamned tired of it. He wanted his room, his bed, his life to be filled with another body—with her body. He rolled sideways, grabbed a pillow and chucked it across the room in frustration. The monster was raging hard in his head tonight, and fans were such an easy Band-Aid. They threw their numbers at the handlers, who always tucked them into their pockets for their own use if Dev wasn’t interested. One phone call to Chester would be all it took. Within thirty minutes, he could have three women in his bed if he wanted to.

Fuck it. He wasn’t going to get through to Kiki.

Or was he?

Dev sat up in bed. He knew one sure way to find out.