To be honest, I kept waiting for something to go wrong. For everything to go wrong.
Adam returned carrying multiple shopping bags bearing the labels of high-end boutiques. “Like I was saying, they keep things casual. But Martha thought you’d like something nice to wear. She got a local place to send some things over so you wouldn’t feel the need to rush home to change or whatever. Sound good?”
“I feel like you’re trying to buy my affection.”
“Bullshit.” He placed the bags on the counter. “If I was doing that, you’d already love me again because of the check. In all honesty, it’d be much easier. But here I am, wooing you.”
“You’re wooing me?” I asked with a smile.
“Me and Martha, apparently. We clearly have a Cyrano de Bergerac thing going on. What has she sent over?” He pulled out a black wool bodycon-style dress with long almost modest Chantilly lace sleeves.
I squealed in untold delight, pushing the remains of my breakfast aside. “That’s new season Valentino. Give it to me.”
The man did as told.
“What else is there?”
He opened a box, pushing aside numerous layers of tissue paper. “Army boots?”
“Louboutin Combat Booties. Oh, look at them, they’re beautiful.” I clicked my fingers. “Gimme.”
“Why didn’t I think of this? I should have thought of this,” he mumbled. “It hasn’t even occurred to you to try and shove this back in my face like you did with the check.”
“They’re so shiny.”
“Ah…underwear, stockings, shit like that.” He reported on the contents of another bag. “This one is jeans and a fluffy sweater.”
“Fluffy? You mean cashmere. How lovely.” I happy sighed. “It’s just like Christmas but better. Your manager has amazing taste.”
“Glad you approve. This one has makeup and some jewelry boxes.”
“Great,” I said. “You wear that battered old black leather jacket over your shirt and I’ll wear the dress and boots and we’ll look amazing. Trust me.”
“Whatever makes you happy.”
“Thought you didn’t take fashion advice.”
He laughed. “I don’t from stylists. But I know enough to do what you tell me.”
“Wise man.”
“So you’re good with going to the party?” he asked, a hint of a smile still lingering about his beautiful mouth.
“Oh. Absolutely.”
* * * *
“Always carry sunglasses and a hat,” directed the Lena Ferris. A fabulous curvy brunette with tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose. She was married to the singer from Stage Dive, Jimmy Ferris. He was hanging over with the dudes on the other side of the room, drinking beers with my maybe/maybe not boyfriend. Or ex. Whatever. But the moment Adam and I had entered the apartment, the women had surrounded me. It was mildly scary but also kind of thrilling.
“Long hair is useful because if you have your head down, it kind of curtains your face, you know?” Anne demonstrated aptly, letting her red hair hide her. “Nothing to see here.”
Lizzy, married to bass player Ben, sighed and ran a hand through her short, layered blond hair. “I miss being able to do that. Mind you, it only takes me a minute to wash it now, which is awesome.”
“It looks fantastic,” I assured her.
“Thank you.”
“Just don’t do what I did and hold a bag up in front of your face and then proceed to just about walk into a pole.” Evelyn Ferris handed me a glass of white wine. “If Sam the bodyguard hadn’t been there, I’d probably be brain dead now.”
Despite the packages, Martha and her new husband Sam weren’t at the party. They were apparently having alone time while they could get it what with the upcoming tour and everything. I made a mental note to thank her for the shopping next time I saw her. Assuming I saw her again.
“He keeps watching you. It’s so cute.” Anne peered over at Adam from behind a bottle of soda. She was off the hard stuff due to breastfeeding, her infant son currently blowing bubbles with his father. Not so surprisingly, there was dribble on both of their chins. Jimmy reached over with a rag to tend to the baby’s chin. The drummer and father however was left to his own devices.
Twin girls and one boy child, all around three or four years of age, were off watching some Disney film in one of the spare bedrooms—along with popcorn and a nanny to keep an eye on things. Ah to be rich and famous and have help with your small children. Not that I necessarily wanted kids. I didn’t know about that either.
“This your first time on tour?” asked Lena.
Awkward. “Oh. Um. Yeah. I’m not sure I’m going yet.”
Evelyn grinned. “But he asked you to go?”
“As tour hairdresser.”
“Europe is cool,” said Anne. “The summer festivals he’ll be playing at are really fun.”
Lena nodded. “Kind of a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
“Don’t push her,” chided Evelyn. “It’s a big decision. And touring is hectic and exhausting, even if a bit exhilarating.”
“My apologies.” Lena did a half-bow from her sitting position on the couch with a flourish of the hand. “We love to see true love triumph.”
“How do you know it’s true love?” I asked, taking another sip of wine.
A small wicked smile curled her lips. “Because if someone wrote songs like that about me, I sure as fuck wouldn’t still be sneaking hot looks at them unless they were embedded in my heart so deep, I didn’t have a chance of getting them out.”
“She has a point.” Anne nodded.
“That damn album.” I slumped back against the chair. “I mean, I’m glad he’s been successful. He’s super-talented. He deserves it. But I feel like it enters the room before me half the damn time, you know?”
Ev snorted. “The whole world
