Plat, page 18
“I don’t know. I need to talk to the band, see what they want to do next.”
“Do you want to order dinner and watch a movie? Keep it simple tonight.”
“That sounds good.” He set his bass down and got to his feet, reaching out to help me up. He pulled me against him and lightly kissed me.
“I missed you today,” I whispered against his mouth.
A knock on the door interrupted us, and I sighed as Tyler went to see who was there. Marcus stood there and handed Tyler an envelope.
“This came for Ariel from the embassy. I think it’s her passport.”
“Thank you.” Tyler paused. “You want to come in?”
“I’m on duty, so I have to get back. See you later.” He disappeared, and Tyler closed the door, handing me the envelope.
“Oh good.” I opened it and checked to verify it was correct. “I feel a lot better now that I have this.”
“Yeah, it’ll be good not to deal with anything when we get back to the U.S.”
“What do you want to order for dinner?” I asked, putting the passport in my travel bag so I’d know where it was.
“I haven’t had pasta since we’ve been here. Casey said something about the cook making a mean carbonara.”
“Perfect. Will you order while I straighten up a few things?”
“Sure.” He picked up the phone, and I grabbed the bag with my medication. I opened it as I went into the bathroom, where I kept my pill bottles. I took vitamins and supplements in addition to my bipolar meds, and I opened my current bottle. I had four pills left, so I’d just throw them into the new bottle and only have one to keep track of.
I opened the new one and was just about to pour my remaining pills in it when I noticed something odd. I tapped a few pills into my hand and frowned. They looked completely different than what I had. I looked at the bottle and frowned. It was the right medication with the correct dosage, but my regular pills were small, round, and white; these were oblong and a pale green color. It made no sense. It was the brand name, not a generic version, and the label information was identical.
“Tyler?” I called to him.
“Yeah?” He padded into the bathroom.
“Look at this.” I showed him the two bottles and the different pills.
“Is it generic?” he asked automatically.
I shook my head. “Usually, a generic will show whatever the long medical name is, and this is the brand name.”
“Let’s look it up.” He went out to the main room, and I followed him, both pill bottles in my hand. He opened his laptop and typed out the name and dosage of the medication and then clicked on the images tab. The green pill came up automatically, but there was nothing that looked like my little white tablet. He changed his search and looked for the generic version, but that was yellow.
“This is weird, right?” I was confused.
“Yeah. You’re going to have to ask Casey to hook you up with the pharmacist because this doesn’t make sense.”
“I only have four more,” I murmured.
“I’m sure Marcus or someone can take you to a pharmacy tomorrow.” He kissed my forehead. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure it was an honest mistake. Don’t worry.”
I did worry, though, and after discussing it with Casey on the phone after we ate, she promised someone would take me to the pharmacy the pills had come from. It was the one that the royal family used. The pharmacist was an old family friend, and they trusted him implicitly, so I was up early in the morning, anxious to sort this out. I’d never missed a dose of my meds and didn’t intend to start now, as we were gearing up to fight the conservatorship. I’d get on the next flight to the U.S. if I had to because I’d come too far to screw it up.
“Welcome.” The pharmacist was expecting me, and I approached him with a friendly smile. “I am Dr. Filipo.”
“Hello. Do you speak English?”
“Yes. I went to school in Great Britain.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much for seeing me. I’m sorry to be a bother, but I’m confused about my pills. This is what I normally take.” I got the bottle out of my purse and opened it, showing him a pill. “And what you sent for me looks totally different.”
He frowned as he took the bottle from me. “May I?”
“Of course.” He read the label carefully and then inspected the pill I’d handed him. “Madam, this is not your medication.” He went to a shelf and pulled a big bottle out. He showed it to me, pointing to the manufacturer name, the name of the drug, as well as the dosage. “The drug I gave you is correct.”
“But how can that be? Then what is this?”
He met my gaze and appeared almost embarrassed as he answered me. “This is ibuprofen.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Please wait a moment.” He disappeared into the back and came out with another bottle. He opened it, and sure enough, the pills inside were identical to mine. And it was ibuprofen.
I must have gotten pale because my stomach felt funny, and the pharmacist was watching me carefully. “Are you okay? Can I call someone for you?”
“N-no. I’m fine. I…” I swallowed. “I think there’s been a terrible misunderstanding. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” I grabbed my pill bottles and rushed out of the pharmacy, back into the waiting car.
“Everything okay?” A young palace guard named Natalia had driven me, and I managed a shaky nod.
“Yes, thank you.”
But nothing was okay.
My entire life was a lie.
For the last seven-and-a-half years, I’d been taking ibuprofen.
Which meant I wasn’t bipolar.
And my father was a fucking liar.
29
Tyler
I was trying to decide what to do until Ariel got back from the pharmacy and opened Twitter on my phone. I’d only scrolled past a few posts before I saw it and my heart skipped a beat. There shouldn’t have been a picture of Stu being led away in handcuffs from the scene of the car accident that sent him to prison. That had happened five years ago, and he’d served his time. It had been a terrible accident, albeit one that caused the death of one of his friends, and he never talked about it anymore.
When we’d first formed Nobody’s Fool, he’d said he wouldn’t talk about it, that it was in the past, and he hoped we’d respect his wishes on the topic because it had caused him enough pain. He didn’t want to relive it because the media had done a number on him when it first happened. None of us had a problem with leaving the past where it was, and I’d all but forgotten about it, so it was jarring to see it all over Twitter. Worse than that, it was trending.
It was nine in the morning here, which meant it was eleven at night in L.A., so I picked up the phone and called Stu. This was partly my fault, and I had to get in front of it.
“Hallo, mate.” Stu sounded lit, and I mentally grimaced.
“How’s it going?”
“Been a long day,” he replied, “but I’m feeling better now that I have a lovely lass to keep me company and Mr. Beam helping me sort out my feelings.”
“I’m sorry, man.” I sighed. “This is on me. Ariel and I—”
“Isalright.” He was slurring so much it sounded like one word. “I unnerstand… Imma go get pissed, ’kay?”
“You at home?” I asked worriedly.
“Safe and sound.” He disconnected, and I stared at the phone for a minute.
This sucked. Maybe it was time for me to get in front of this. I probably needed to talk to Darren Randall directly. We’d worked together for more than a decade, so there had to be some camaraderie, didn’t there? We hadn’t been close, of course, but Pretty Harts had made a lot of money for Whiplash over the years, so he owed me a conversation, if nothing else.
The problem was what to say.
Did he really believe Ariel was going to marry him? Did he consider me some sort of homewrecker? I didn’t know exactly what was going on with Ariel, but I knew she wasn’t engaged to him or even remotely interested in him. Maybe if Darren understood that Ariel had hired a lawyer and that Douglas wouldn’t have control of her for much longer, Darren would back down, and we could go back to a business relationship.
I felt like I needed to stop what was happening because it went beyond them deciding not to sign the band. It was personal now. I hadn’t cared so much about the news that Darren and Ariel were engaged because I knew it wasn’t true, but now they were going after my band. My friends. And that wasn’t cool at all. Stu had done his time, and while what he’d done would always be with him, it shouldn’t be trending again because I was involved with Ariel.
I needed to clear my head, so I opted to go for a walk, even though it was cold as fuck outside, so I grabbed my phone and room key. I’d just gotten to the bottom of the stairs when I saw Marcus going in the opposite direction, and I nodded a greeting.
“How’s it goin’?” I asked him.
“Another day at the office.” He grinned, falling into step beside me. “What’s going on with you? I saw some stuff about your guitarist.”
“Yeah.” I sighed, unsure how much to say. I didn’t want to say anything that would get him ragging on me about Ariel, but I needed to talk to someone. He was my twin brother, and if I couldn’t talk to him, what did that say about our relationship?
“You okay?”
“I’m struggling,” I admitted.
“Where are you headed?”
“Was gonna take a walk,” I said. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“I can’t go outside right now, I have to do a sweep of all the exits, but you can walk with me while I do it.”
“Okay.”
“What’s going on? Trouble with Ariel?”
I eyed him. “If you can’t be open-minded about her, there’s no point in us talking.”
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m open-minded. Tell me everything. No judgment. Promise.”
I hesitated and then blew out a breath. “I don’t know what to do. I’m falling for her hard, but all this drama and now the blowback on the band. I was okay with taking it myself, but I don’t want it to impact my friends just because I’m in lust with this super-hot pop star and can’t keep it in my pants.” There. I’d said it. I was a world-class jerk, but I’d said the main thing rooting around in my subconscious.
“Hang on.” He opened a door I hadn’t even noticed, checked the locks, ran his hands along the doorframe, and then closed and locked it. “So, there are some different parts of this to consider. First, is everything good between the two of you? Are you happy? Are you in the type of relationship you could be in long-term?”
I hesitated. “I am. Well, I was, until recently.”
“Meaning?”
“The sex thing was fun, but now I’m nervous she was having some kind of manic episode and I enabled it by being a willing participant. I knew she was bipolar going in, so this shouldn’t be a deal-breaker for me, and it’s not, but when I tried to talk to her about it she got really sensitive. I know her father has made her feel self-conscious about her illness, so I get it, but at the same time, if we’re in this for the long-haul—and I don’t know if we are yet—we have to be able to talk about it. Right?”
“Absolutely.” He was staring straight ahead thoughtfully.
“Come on, spit it out,” I said quietly.
“No, I’m not thinking anything in particular. If she was someone I was involved with, I’d want to meet with her psychiatrist and get an in-depth understanding of how the disease impacts her personally, versus generic shit you read online.”
“Well, that’s part of the problem. She doesn’t have a shrink she can trust.” I told him about Douglas choosing them for her and how she didn’t like any of them.
“I’m sure she could find an English-speaking one here in Limaj, but my guess is you won’t be staying much longer.”
“She wants and needs to stay here longer, but my band needs me.” I turned to him. “How do I choose?”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “If you love each other, neither of you should ever have to choose between each other and the people closest to you. I think it’s telling that even this early on, you’re in a position where you have to.”
“Even though it’s not really her fault? I mean, everything going on is because of her father.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“She’s what? Twenty-five?”
I nodded.
“How can he have so much control over her? I mean, that doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t she have fought him before now? No matter what she tells you about him controlling her money and all that, she still has a huge net worth and reputation. I can’t imagine any big-time L.A. lawyer is going to say no to taking her on as a client if they think they can win. So either she’s lying about the control he has over her, or she’s already tried and no one will take the case because there are legit reasons she needs a conservator.”
I frowned. “You think?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I’m playing devil’s advocate because you came to me. I get that you care for her. I see the bond between you, and to be fair, when you’re together, I don’t see anything negative. At all. She’s beautiful, articulate, and talented. When she looks at you, her heart is in her eyes, so I don’t see deceit or anything that raises my spidey senses, and that’s what I do for a living. However, she could be in love with you while simultaneously unaware of how bad her disease is impacting others. Or she could just see you as the perfect ally to help her get away from her father.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I countered. “If she loves me but doesn’t understand her disease because her father has always controlled it?”
“Not necessarily. You have to consider everything, though. Including the fact that she’s an entertainer, an actress in addition to a singer. What if this is all about using you to help her get away from her dad?”
I frowned. “I don’t want to believe that.”
“I know.” He paused in front of another door and did the same thing.
“What are you looking for?” I asked, since there didn’t seem to be anything else to say about Ariel.
“Trip wires, explosives, jimmied locks that could be opened in the middle of the night when we’re sleeping. Anything that could help a bad guy get into the palace when we’re least expecting it.”
“You do this every day?”
“Someone does it every day, but a different guy, at a different time. The only one who has the schedule is the head of security, Joe. He’ll call someone who’s on duty and say ‘door check time.’ And we do it. Sometimes at six in the morning, sometimes at dinnertime, other times at midnight. So no one who works here, like a cook or a maid, sees a schedule and could do something based on knowing someone checks the doors and locks every day at nine.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
He smiled. “Wanna be a bodyguard?”
“No thanks.”
We chuckled together.
“What are you going to do?” he asked as we continued to walk.
“I don’t fucking know. I think we need to have a heart-to-heart, but it has to be framed in a way that it won’t upset her because she’s really sensitive about it.”
“After living with the disease for so long, it’s weird that she’s like that, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. Kinda.” I felt so disloyal right now, but I was struggling with this.
“I’m here if you need to talk. Things between us haven’t been great, but I’m never going to say or do anything to hurt you or someone you care about. I just want to help, in whatever way I can.”
“I know. I appreciate it.”
“Come on, hang out with me for a while. We don’t have to talk about any of that, but we can talk while I check the doors and exits. Did you hear what Eli Horowitz did?”
Eli was a guy we’d gone to high school with, and I hadn’t heard his name in fifteen years. “Uh, no. I don’t really keep up with the people we went to school with.”
“Well, let me fill you in on the old neighborhood.”
30
Ariel
Tyler was gone when I got back to our suite, so I’d just opened my phone to text him when I saw multiple texts from Lexi.
LEXI: The shit is hitting the fan. Are you around?
LEXI: I should be going to bed, but I’m wide awake. I can’t sleep.
I sank onto the edge of the bed and called her instead of texting.
“Hey.” Lexi answered on the first ring.
“What’s going on?”
“Have you seen the social media explosion about Stu?”
“No! I was out at the pharmacy…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to make this about me, even though I had big news. “What happened?”
“Looks like your dad or Darren have made the accident front page news again, talking about how Nobody’s Fool’s lead guitarist is a murderer and how no record company should sign us…”
I groaned. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I have so much going on, so much to do…”
“I also got an email earlier today.”
“What kind of email?” My gut clenched painfully; whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.
“Whiplash has decided to exercise their right to force me to do another Special Kay album. As per the contract.”
“Are you serious?” I got to my feet and started to pace. “Who told you? Darren?”
“Of course not. The legal department requested a meeting. I told them I was busy and then they responded quoting language from the contract and saying they’d been willing to let it go when it looked like Nobody’s Fool would be signing to the label, but now that we’re not, they need me to fulfill my contractual obligation.”
“But I thought you bought yourself out of it?”
“I bought myself out of finishing the tour. The remaining album I owed them has always been on the table, but we had a kind of handshake agreement. Now it’s going to get ugly.”
