Plat, page 6
“I don’t cook in mine, either, but my housekeeper keeps it ready in case I ever get the urge.”
“Is she a live-in housekeeper?” she asked.
“No, she comes and goes. More when I’m home, less when I’m on the road. She comes by almost every day when I’m in town, to make sure I have food and stuff. Betty’s a lifesaver. She’s been with me almost a decade. I’d be lost without her.”
“Does she cook for you?”
“Sometimes. She’s mostly like a house manager—makes sure the cleaning service comes, the lawn service, exterminators, all that kind of thing. She does the grocery shopping and will cook if I know I’ll be home for a few nights in a row. And on the rare occasion I have people over, she’ll come to set up and stay to clean up. But that’s maybe three times a year.”
“I’ve never entertained at my house,” she said quietly as we walked into the house through the garage.
“Never?”
“Nope. Dad has, with his friends, but not me. I stay locked in my room on those nights. Mostly he has poker nights, but he’s had a few parties and I avoided them like the plague.”
“Every once in a while, I get a bug up my butt,” I said, turning on the lights, “but I’m usually a hermit when I’m home.”
“Oh, this is stunning,” she exclaimed as we walked through the kitchen. She ran her hand along the quartz countertop and looked around. “The backsplash is amazing.”
“Yeah, I was afraid it might be too girlie, but once I moved in, I realized I loved it.” The backsplash was a sea-glass color, a fantastic combination of greens with touches of blue, created in glass, tile, and some kind of stone I couldn’t name. Since I hadn’t built it, I didn’t know the details, but I loved how it looked with my stainless-steel appliances, gray cabinets, and white countertops.
“I could cook something in here,” she said, grinning.
“Well, feel free if you get the urge. I mostly use the grill out back or fry eggs. I’m a pretty simple guy.”
She turned to me, narrowing her eyes a little. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
“What’s makes you say that?”
“You’re one of the most well-known bass players in the industry, with two successful bands behind you, which means fame, fortune, and everything that goes with it. And yet you’re lonely. That tells me you’re anything but simple.”
“Maybe not,” I agreed. “You want water or anything?”
“Water would be great, thank you.”
I grabbed two bottles and brought her into the formal dining room. “This is a room I almost never use even though I bought the fancy dining table and buffet.”
“When I was little, I used to dream about having big family get-togethers and sitting at a table like this,” she said, leaning against the wall. “I promised myself I’d have them when I had a family of my own.”
“Do you want a family?” I asked.
“I do, but I’m not sure I can. Bipolar Disorder can be genetic, so it makes me a little nervous about passing it on, but deep down, yes, I’d like one.”
“Is there genetic testing or anything that can be done?”
“I honestly don’t know. I haven’t thought about kids in a long time since, you know, I’ve been single my entire adult life.” She paused. “Do you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, a whole house full of them if the woman in my life was willing. Maybe even foster a couple.”
“I know I keep saying this, but you’re so damn nice…”
“I try.” I moved her through the family room, den, and past the stairs that led to the bedrooms.
“Powder room over there,” I told her. “Sliding glass doors lead out to the patio and pool. But this is my second favorite room in the house.” I opened the door to my home studio, and her eyes widened.
“Oh, wow, this is incredible.”
I didn’t have all the bells and whistles because I could use Casey’s professional recording studio any time I wanted, but mine did what I needed it to. I could write songs, play music, and record it in my little set-up, though, of course, the quality wasn’t top-notch. It was enough for me to putter around, though, writing my own songs and just hanging out.
“I probably spend a lot more time here than I should,” I said, “considering I have six thousand more square feet to use, but other than the balcony off my bedroom, I love to sit here with my guitars, writing, singing, doing my thing.”
“Do you sing, too?” she asked, frowning a little.
“Not lead singer quality, but I’m good with background vocals, and I can hold my own.”
“I’d love to have a room like this, but Dad said it was a waste of space since I spend so much time on tour.” She made a face.
“You don’t like touring, huh?”
“Not particularly. I don’t mind performing now and again, but the drudgery of being on the road is miserable. Me with my dad and any number of his buddies or, worse, his pick-up of the night, either sitting in a tour bus or on planes… Hell on earth.”
“Your dad has hook-ups in front of you?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You have no idea. It’s so hard to watch. I mean, they don’t actually have sex in front of me, but he’ll sit there and hit on women backstage or wherever we are, and then walks around with his arm around them like he’s important. I wouldn’t mind if he had a girlfriend, someone serious in his life, but watching him trying to act like some kind of stud? Gross.”
“And you don’t get to date?”
“Technically, he can’t stop me from dating, but it’s what he does behind the scenes that makes it hard. Like turning off my credit cards or setting the limit to something ridiculous like five hundred dollars. He can make my life hell if he wants to, and no one can stop him.”
“That’s fucking bullshit,” I said incredulously. “Why haven’t you fought the conservatorship?”
10
Ariel
It was a hard question to answer. I’d thought about it a lot lately, but the truth, if I had to generalize, was that I was afraid. I hated admitting that out loud, but I didn’t want to lie, either.
“I’m scared to,” I said after a moment. “He’ll be furious. And if I lose? He’ll make my life a living hell. Emotionally, financially… Hell, he could try and have me institutionalized again. And I’ll die before I go through that again.”
“Again?” He looked horrified.
“When I said I learned a lesson after punching that cop, I wasn’t exaggerating.”
“Damn, babe, I hate hearing that kind of thing.”
“It’s okay. I don’t think about it much and definitely not when I’m with you.”
Our eyes met and we smiled.
“Wanna see my balcony?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
“I should probably say no,” I laughed. “But I’m not going to. I really do want to see it.”
“Come.” He took my hand and led me up the stairs. We passed the room Stu was using while he was staying here, went to the end of the hallway, and Tyler opened double doors that led into the master suite.
And it was incredible.
“Oh, wow,” I breathed, looking around. “I have to say, I love my bedroom, but yours is…amazing.” I looked around at the rich, mahogany furniture, the thick, luxurious carpet, and a view of Las Vegas that took my breath away. I hadn’t realized we were close enough to the Strip to see the lights, and though they were relatively far away, it was still gorgeous.
He’d moved to the other side of the room where he was opening double doors that led out to the balcony he’d mentioned. There were two cushioned chairs and a small table out there, and I was immediately drawn in that direction.
“I’d be out here at dawn every morning,” I told him, “drinking my coffee and doing a little yoga. This is so peaceful.”
“Don’t you do that at your house?”
“Not usually. Dad has schedules on his schedules. We’re always running to this appointment or meeting with a trainer, creating ‘casual’ photo ops around town to keep me relevant in social media. It’s never-ending. I don’t have time to breathe most days.”
“The more you tell me about your dad, the more I want to kick his ass.” Tyler slid an arm around my shoulders and I leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder.
“I know.”
“You want to sit down and hang out for a while?” he asked softly.
“Yes.”
We sat in the two chairs and didn’t talk, staring out at the pretty grounds and the night sky. It was October, so while it was warm during the day, it got chilly at night, and I shivered a little. Tyler got up and went inside, coming back out with a light blanket. He put it over my shoulders, and I smiled up at him.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Sometimes I wonder where I would be and what I would be doing if I hadn’t become a star,” I said, looking up at the sky. “Would I have spiraled if I’d just been a regular teenager, or did I get out of control because I was too young to handle the fame, the money, and of course, my mom’s suicide.”
“Your mom committed suicide?”
I nodded. “When I was fourteen.”
“Oh, damn, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It seems like a lifetime ago.”
“That’s probably not something that goes away, no matter how long it’s been.”
“She was bipolar and went off her meds, so that’s why Dad is so overprotective. I understand it, I just wish he’d understand that I’m not my mother. I’m not going to make the mistakes she made. I haven’t had an episode of any kind since I’ve been medicated, and I don’t plan to. I want to live a quiet life, with the right man, writing music and making the occasional television appearance. I’d love to do a movie someday, with a role I could really dig into. But what I want doesn’t matter. All I am to my father is a money machine. I make it, and he gets to both control it and spend it. I’d give it all up for him to leave me alone.”
“Maybe that’s your answer,” Tyler said, meeting my eyes. “Refuse to do any more work. The money will start to dwindle, and maybe he’ll give you your freedom.”
“There’s plenty,” I said. “And he’s squirreled away a lot more than he says. He thinks I’m stupid and don’t understand the financial reports, but I read every word of every document, so I know exactly how much there is and how much I should have.”
“You mean he’s stealing from you?”
“Not stealing, so much as putting my money away in accounts that he can say are for me but are really for him. Places I can’t get to them.”
“Sonofabitch.” His voice was soft, but a handful of emotions flitted across his face. The most recognizable was anger, and I reached out my hand. He put his in it, and I gave him a soft smile.
“It means a lot to me, seeing how angry you get when I talk about my dad, but it’s okay. I’ve learned how to manage him for the most part, and I’ve got a safe deposit box he doesn’t know about. I have proof of everything he’s ever done, from printed copies of emails I’ve gotten, texts where he’s threatened to leave me penniless, and proof that he’s taking money that doesn’t belong to him. One day, when the time is right, I’m going to take him to court. I just have to be sure I can win, because if I lose, well, he’ll probably have me locked up again, and I might never get out.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Tyler said automatically. “I don’t know much about how your conservatorship works, but I promise, if he tries to lock you up, I’ll do whatever I can to help you fight it.”
“I don’t know if I’ve told you in the last five minutes, but you’re very, very sweet.”
He was staring into my eyes, and everything tilted on its axis. Being here with him like this was wonderful. I felt safe, happy, and comfortable, as if I belonged here. Belonged with him. My temporary boyfriend.
This time when he leaned in, I was ready. We weren’t in a restaurant where people might see us, and I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do more than kiss him again. Our tongues tangled, and every other guy I’d kissed was immediately replaced in my psyche. Being intimate with Tyler was nothing like kissing the guys I’d kissed as a teenager. This was ethereal, his mouth taking mine with sensual possessiveness. As if we were meant to kiss like this.
He tugged me by the hand until I got up and joined him in his chair, sitting on his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck. His lips were soft but firm, and his tongue was amazing. He stroked mine with precision, taking deep pulls and then backing off enough to make me whimper with need. His fingers skimmed my thigh, the curve of my hip, and up to my shoulders. The faintest touch gave me goose bumps, and I sighed into his mouth.
“I wish I didn’t have to go home tonight,” I whispered.
“I don’t want you to go home,” he breathed against my lips. “If I only get a week with you, I want to spend every minute together.”
“I want to. More than anything, but I honestly can’t stay tonight—I don’t have my meds with me, and I take them before bed.”
“That’s a bummer.”
“If there’s a next time, I’ll be better prepared.”
“If?” He leaned in to kiss me again. “You’re going to pack up your things, move them here, and then there’s going to be one long, continuous next time.”
That sounded like the best offer I’d had in my entire life.
Tyler texted me in the morning to remind me to pack a bag before leaving Casey’s in the morning, and I was doing just that when someone knocked on the door. Since Casey’s guest house was on the grounds of her very private, gated estate, it could only be her or someone from her security team, so I wrapped my bathrobe around me and padded to the door. All I saw was a huge bouquet of flowers, and I blinked, opening the door.
“Good morning.” Casey peered around the bouquet.
“Good morning.”
“These came for you, and I thought I’d bring them over myself since I’m leaving in a few days and this might be our last chance to chat.”
“Are you going to Limaj?”
“Yes. There’s so much going on, we can’t be away any longer.” She put the flowers down on the counter, and I absently opened the card.
Then I smiled.
Ariel—
It’s been a while so I’m a little out of practice, but flowers are something boyfriends do, right? I hope you like roses.
--Tyler
“Are they from Tyler?” Casey asked after a moment.
I blushed. “Yes.”
Her eyes twinkled with delight. “Are you two officially a thing now?”
“I…” I hesitated. “I don’t think so?”
Casey laughed. “You don’t know?”
“My life is so complicated.” I lightly fingered the petal of one of the delicate pink roses. “And he’s so damn nice.”
“And hot.” Casey looked completely serious.
“Oh, well, that’s a given.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“It’s complicated.”
“If you ask me—and I realize you didn’t—I think you should do whatever the hell you want and tell both Darren and your dad to suck rocks.”
I chuckled. “Believe me, I think about it every damn day.”
“Tyler is one of the best guys I know,” Casey said solemnly. “He’s so ready to love someone and be loved in return—and I genuinely hope it turns out to be you.”
I hadn’t been prepared for her to say something so serious, and I stared at her in confusion. Tyler and I barely knew each other, and my life was a hot mess.
“You can’t mean that,” I said after a moment. “Do you have any idea what my life is like? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, much less someone I care about.”
“Tyler’s a big boy who can take care of himself.” Casey leaned over to sniff the roses. “And sometimes it doesn’t take months or years to know when you have something special; sometimes you just know.”
“But how? What if it’s all hormones and sexual attraction and the forbidden element since my father would never let me date someone like Tyler?”
“There’s only one way to find out, right?” Her eyes met mine.
“I suppose there’s that.” I made myself a cup of coffee as she set the flowers up on the counter. “So, when are you leaving?”
“Friday.”
“For good?”
“My oldest daughter is going to stay here and finish college, but we’ll be in Limaj probably eighty percent of the time. Erik has to be there, and I don’t want to be away from him. Frankly, you only live once, and Erik and I learned that the hard way, so trust me when I say, if you think there’s something special between you and Tyler, run with it.”
I couldn’t even articulate how much I wanted to.
11
Tyler
I’d tossed and turned all night after I’d dropped Ariel off back at her car. Nothing had happened. No sex, no vows of undying love or any such romantic nonsense, and yet I’d told her I wanted to be her boyfriend and she’d agreed. As if that was fucking normal. Then we’d kissed like hormonal teenagers, and most of our “date” had been staring into each other’s eyes. So, of course, the first thing I’d done this morning was send her flowers. Was I desperate, pathetic, lonely, or what? I had it bad for her. If we took things to the next level—and that was going to happen sooner rather than later—things were going to amp up in way I couldn’t yet imagine.
“Hey.” I was surprised to see Lexi already at the studio when I arrived.
“Good morning.” She was putting a box on the counter.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Cupcakes,” she said, grinning. “A little birdie named Casey told me you guys always had cupcakes in the studio when you were recording, so I thought I’d pick up the tradition.”
“Awesome,” I said, peering into the box. “These look great.”
