Plat, page 20
“Tyler?” My dad’s voice instantly calmed me, even though we weren’t that close anymore, but he’d always had that effect on me when I let him.
“Hey, Pop.”
“Shalom, b’nai. What’s wrong?” he asked automatically. Hello, my son. The rabbi in him always knew when something was bothering someone. Especially when it came to his kids.
“Fu—er, everything.” I tried not to cuss in front of my dad even though I did it sometimes anyway.
“Your band.”
“Yes.”
“Your girlfriend.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“So…mid-life crisis?”
I chuckled. “I think I’m a little young for that, but maybe a mini-one.”
“You want to talk?”
“Do you have time?”
“For my son? Always.”
“Dad, I’m so conflicted about every damn thing. My band, my girl, my life.”
“You’re with your brother. Is he not better able to counsel you on things like this? I know very little of your personal life, Tyler.”
“Neither does he,” I admitted. “Neither does anyone, to be honest. I’ve been so busy being a star… I don’t know who the heck I am.”
“You’re Tyler Rabinowicz. A wonderful human being, as well as a talented musician and good son.
“Am I…a good son?” I asked quietly. “I mean, I haven’t been much of a son lately.”
“Your mother and I have busy, fulfilling lives. We raised two strong, intelligent, hard-working boys. What else do parents want in life? For you to live in our basement?”
“Attention? A relationship?”
“This is a relationship, no?”
“Dad, I don’t want you to be nice to me,” I grumbled. “I need a lecture. I need someone to set me straight.”
He chuckled. “You’re far too old for a lecture. You know what you need to do. You don’t need me to tell you.”
“I think I do.”
“You love her?”
I hesitated. “It’s only been six weeks.”
“I knew I was going to marry your mother the day we met.”
I smiled to myself. That was essentially the same thing Casey had said. I’d thought maybe my parents were an exception, but I was beginning to see a pattern with people who really loved each other: as soon as they felt it, they knew. And I’d been feeling it since the first time I laid eyes on her. I just didn’t know how to deal with it because, unlike everything in my life, this relationship was hard. It was also important and fulfilling and so many other things that were hard to explain.
Indescribable.
That’s what we’d called our first time together.
And nothing had changed.
She’d become indescribably part of me, and I’d let her go.
I had to fix this as soon as possible.
Dad and I talked for another thirty minutes as I told him about Ariel, her father, Darren, and Whiplash Records. He listened patiently, occasionally tsk-tsking when I told him things she’d been through and what we were dealing with now.
“Sounds like she needs friends and family more than ever,” he said when I finished. “And she definitely needs you.”
“The fact that she’s bipolar doesn’t scare you?”
“Scare me? Why would it scare me? I’m not frightened of someone with cancer, and this is another disease, just like that. Luckily, not usually a fatal one, so that’s a bonus. You’ll find a good doctor and learn exactly what she needs once she’s free of her father. I’ve never known you to back away from a fight, Tyler. I hope this isn’t when you start.”
“I have to go, Pop,” I said after a slight hesitation. “Thanks for listening.”
“Of course.”
“I’m going to come to New York to see you and Mom soon. I promise.”
“Bring Ariel with you. I want to meet her.”
32
Ariel
I was exhausted when I got to L.A., but Madeline had sent a car for me. I was driven to a secure apartment Madeline’s law firm owned, where they often put high-profile clients and witnesses. She assured me I wouldn’t be bothered, and I got into bed fully clothed, sleeping for twelve hours. It was weird to be back in California, and I padded to the window after I’d showered in the morning. Madeline was on her way to meet with me, and we had a full day planned, but I took a minute to stare out at the busy streets. We were somewhere in Santa Monica—I hadn’t really been paying attention last night after traveling for more than twenty-four hours—and I saw the ocean in the distance. The view was beautiful, but I found myself longing for the gardens of the palace in Limaj.
Longing for Tyler.
I hadn’t taken my meds in two days, and though I’d been terrified, Erik had listened to the whole story on the flight from Hiskale to London. He’d let me cry and talk about my dad and how much losing my mom hurt. No one had ever listened to me in quite the same way, and I would always be grateful for his friendship, and Casey’s. He’d sat up with me half the night in London because I’d worried about not taking my meds, even as he gently reminded me there was nothing but ibuprofen in my purse. That while I still might be bipolar, I hadn’t been taking bipolar meds for the last seven years.
The last thing he’d said to me before I’d left for the airport was that if I needed him to be a character witness at the hearing, he’d be there for me. A real-life king had my back when my own boyfriend didn’t. That might have been the thing that hurt the most.
I couldn’t think about that now, though. I wasn’t a priority in Tyler’s life, so he couldn’t be one in mine. Not right now anyway. The beach and palm trees outside the window were a stark contrast to the snow-covered grounds of the palace, jolting me back to the present, and I reluctantly turned away as Madeline texted that she was on her way up.
I opened the door and was surprised at the woman standing in front of me. I’d imagined someone larger than life, but she was probably no more than five feet tall, with pixie cut jet-black hair and striking green eyes. She wore a power suit and sensible flats, but her eyes gleamed with intensity.
“Good to meet you,” she said, pumping my hand.
“Thank you for handling everything,” I said sincerely, moving aside so she could come in.
She put a bag of something that smelled wonderful on the table and smiled. “I thought breakfast would get us through the morning. I made sure there was coffee and tea here for you.”
“Yes, I appreciate it. I was just about to make a cup. Would you like one?”
We made small talk for a few minutes while I brewed two individual cups of coffee and she set out fresh bagels and muffins, with butter, cream cheese, and lox. We sat across from each other at the small but functional table, and she peered at me over the top of her reading glasses.
“How are you, Ariel? For real. Tell me the truth.”
I managed a shaky smile. “About to fall apart if you so much as look at me cross-eyed.”
“Well, I try not to look at anyone cross-eyed,” she said with a faint smile. “And I’ll be gentle today. But we have to be realistic. It’s going to be an uphill battle to prove to your father has been giving you ibuprofen and not actual bipolar medication. They can say you switched it out.”
“I know.”
“However, I’ve got an appointment for you this afternoon with one of the most well-respected psychiatrists in L.A. She’s extremely well-known, and most judges will take her seriously. Nothing is guaranteed, but she’s going to be helpful to us, assuming you’re not actually bipolar.”
“Okay.”
“And we need to get into your house to get your things. I’ve hired security to go with us because I’ll be there as well. It’s your house, and he can’t stop you from getting your stuff, but he can make a scene, so you absolutely cannot let him goad you.”
“Got it.” I nibbled a bagel thoughtfully. “Once I have the key to the safe deposit box, we can pick up all the evidence I’ve saved as well.”
“Right. I’d like to do that as soon as we can. Are you up for it this morning?”
“I’ll never be up for it, but yes, let’s get it over with.”
“It’s going to be okay. I’m not going to let him do anything.”
“When are we going to court?”
“I don’t know yet. We’re still compiling evidence. I need to know everything we’re up against first, but I’m going to file something this week.”
“My stomach is in knots just thinking about facing my father at the house, so I’d like to go over there now and get it over with.”
“Let me contact the security firm I hired, and we’ll head over in a little bit.” She cocked her head slightly. “It’s going to be okay, Ariel. You have to trust me.”
“I have no choice,” I whispered.
We pulled up to the gate in front of my house, and I told the security guard driving the code so he could punch it in. As we drove up, I was pretty sure I was going to puke and glanced at Madeline nervously.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“This is your house,” she whispered. “Bought with your hard-earned money. He only lives in it.”
I swallowed and nodded, waiting for one of the guards to open the door of the limo for me before getting out. Madeline was right behind me, and she marched right up to the front door like she owned the place.
“You have your keys?” she asked me.
I nodded and pulled them out, unlocking the front door. I stepped inside, and though it was familiar, of course, it was also like I’d never been here before. The house was fairly dark, as if either no one was home or Dad was still in bed, and I looked around warily.
“Where do we need to go?” Madeline asked, looking at me intently.
“My room. Upstairs.” I turned in that direction just as she told one guard to come with us and the other to stay downstairs.
We got to my room, and I quickly went to my closet, getting out one of my suitcases.
“Don’t pack everything,” Madeline said gently, “just what you’ll need for a couple of months. Your favorite things, important papers, the like.”
“Right.” I was a little overwhelmed, but I functioned on autopilot, getting this done before Dad got home or woke up the only thing on my mind. The key to the safe deposit box was in a tiny hidden pocket of one of my suitcases—something Dad would never think to search—and I made sure it was there before tossing in my favorite jeans, tops, skirts, and a couple of dresses. I tossed the bulk of my underthings in without even looking at them and filled a carry-on-sized tote with my toiletries.
“Shoes?” Madeline asked, standing beside me.
“Shit.” I stared at the rows of shoes in my closet. I had so many it was probably wasteful, and I had no clue what I would need between now and when we hopefully resolved this, but I grabbed two pairs of heels, a pair of boots, and a pair of flats. I’d just stuffed them in my suitcase when I heard steps in the hell.
“Who the hell is in my house?” Dad yelled, coming into the room in nothing but a robe, a baseball bat in his hand. “Ariel. You’re home.”
“I’m just getting my things,” I said quietly.
“You’re not going anywhere. We have a lot to talk about.”
“We don’t have anything to talk about,” I said, tossing a scarf in with my toiletries.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Fuchs.” Madeline stepped between us, holding out her hand. “I’m Madeline Aronson, Ariel’s attorney.”
“Attorney? What the fuck are you doing with an attorney, Ariel?”
“Just trying to get my life back, Dad.” I grabbed some of my best jewelry, zipping it all into a pouch on the inside of my suitcase.
“You can’t go anywhere if I don’t allow it,” he yelled.
“Douggie… what’s going on?” A tiny blonde who couldn’t be a day over twenty years old came padding into the room in nothing but a see-through nightie. Her hair was sticking up and she looked half-asleep, eyeing me warily. “Who the hell is she? Are you married, Douglas?!”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the task at hand, tossing a few final things in the suitcase before zipping it closed.
“Lacy, go back to bed,” Dad growled.
“Douglas.” Lacy actually stomped her foot. “You promised you weren’t married.”
“He’s not.” I gave her a bright smile. “I’m his daughter. But don’t get too comfortable; this is my house.”
“Ariel, stop.” Dad used his most commanding voice, but it somehow wasn’t as scary with Madeline and the very large bodyguard she’d hired in the room.
“I’ll see you in court, Dad.”
“Court? Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Away from you.”
He met my gaze and slowly narrowed his eyes. “Where’s your boyfriend, Ariel?” I faltered for a moment, and he smiled. “So, he saw the real you and dumped you, huh? I told you that would happen. Don’t you understand the power I have? This isn’t going to work. No judge is going to overturn the conservatorship once they see what you’re doing. Whoring around with rock stars, cheating on your fiancé, getting—”
“Enough, Mr. Fuchs.” Madeline stepped between us, shaking her head. “We’ll let the courts decide. Come along, Ariel.”
“No one loves you but me, Ariel,” Dad called after me. “They’re all going to leave you, just like your mom left you. And Tyler. And all your friends. That’s why you’re alone, Ariel—you’re unlovable!”
I managed to get into the limo before I burst into tears.
33
Tyler
When Lexi’s name flashed on the screen of my phone, I grimaced as I reached for it. It was time to face the music, and I didn’t know how. Everything I’d thought I knew had flown out the window when Ariel left, and after two days without her, I was lost. I didn’t want to lose her, but I didn’t want to lose my band, either, which was what made this so hard.
With a sigh, I took the call. “Hey, Lexi.”
“Hey, we’re all here. You can enable video chat if you want.”
“Oh, okay.” I hit the button and rested my phone on a stand on the table so I wouldn’t have to hold it. All six of our faces showed on the screen, and I braced myself for what was to come.
“How’s Ariel?” Lexi asked.
“I, um, don’t know.” I took a breath. “We had an argument, and she left. I think she’s back in L.A.”
There was a strange silence before Stu said, “She’s back in L.A. without you?”
“Like I said, we argued.”
“Not about me, I hope.” He was frowning.
“Not exactly, but some stuff happened since we’ve been here, and she needs to find a new psychiatrist. It’s complicated. But I’m sure you didn’t call to talk about me.”
“Well, yes and no,” Bash said. “We wanted to make sure Ariel was okay and staying strong. We also wanted to make sure she knows we don’t blame her.”
“You don’t?” I blinked.
“We were all a little frustrated when the record company passed, and all this social media bullshit is a pain in the ass, but that’s what we wanted to talk about. We’re committed to Nobody’s Fool and the music, in spite of what’s going on. Stu offered to quit, so we could move forward with shopping the demo tape, but Lexi, Ford, and I think that’s bullshit. We wanted you to weigh in, too, of course.”
“Well, yeah, I’m all in. Stu is one of us.”
“So the only question now is what to do next.” Bash seemed completely relaxed about the whole thing.
“I don’t understand,” I said slowly. “When you and I talked last, you sounded frustrated and annoyed, both at the situation and with me.”
“Yeah, that was my bad. I was pissed about the demo tape, but once I talked to Stu, he set me straight. Then the rest of us talked and everything’s cool.”
Great. Too bad no one had told me any of that.
“There’s been a lot of talk about Nobody’s Fool,” Lexi said, picking up where Bash left off. “I think their plan to hurt us is backfiring. It got a buzz going, and a few radio stations have started playing ‘Wicked X.’ Club Inferno even wants us to come back for a paid gig because the members loved it so much.”
“But what about the Special Kay situation, Lexi?”
“Zaan and I are going to buy me out. My lawyer is negotiating a dollar amount, and even though it’ll strap us short-term, it’s not like we’re broke. He makes a lot of money, and I still have royalties coming in. I’m not worried about it. Darren and Whiplash can fuck right off.”
“But—” I began.
“I’m going to sell my house in L.A.,” Ford said, interrupting me. “And move in with Bash short-term, so that’ll free up plenty of cash for me to live on.”
“Once I give up my place in L.A.,” Stu added, “I can live in Vegas full-time as well. I can stay with Bash for a bit and then rent a small place. That’s all I need, somewhere to lay my head.”
“But—” I tried again, but Bash cut me off this time.
“It won’t cost us much to record the album at Casey’s studio, and even though it’ll be a shit-ton of work, I think you and I could finance a small tour to get us started.” He met my gaze questioningly, the look he gave me speaking volumes that didn’t need to be verbalized.
“Yeah, for sure,” I said slowly. “It, uh, sounds like you guys have come up with a plan.”
“Well, we figured you had your hands full helping Ariel navigate all her stuff,” Lexi said, “so we got together to plan this out.”
“The wild card was me,” Stu said. “I hate dragging you guys into my shit, but… Well, I appreciate the lot of you. You’re good friends. I have a crisis control publicist that I used when I first got out of prison, and I’ve retained her again to help me out with the bad press. She’s located in Vegas, so it works out pretty well. She’s already working on a way to get it all to die down, so I hope it won’t be an issue going forward.”
