Without Limits: A BWWM Collection of Passion and Desire, page 136
“Talk about a dive,” he muttered to himself and pushed open the door to the front room. Loud music assaulted him right away as if the DJ were playing songs for the partygoers in the next town over. People pushed past him with dazed looks on their faces, as if they couldn’t believe they were in such a place.
The phone in his pocket buzzed. He took the bag with his two basses off his back and set it on the floor. Pressing himself into an alcove, he pulled it out and checked the screen. Zoe. At least she would bring some cheer into his life.
“Hello?”
The first thing Zoe heard was a lot of fuzzy static and wondered why the cell service wasn’t better. Her chest was tight with an angry sadness, and she wavered between berating herself for trusting Salem so fast and a simple ‘how could he?’
When she finally heard his voice, which sounded as if he were speaking through a paper towel tube, she’d landed on the side of how could he. But she was going to ease into it, wasn’t she? She wasn’t going just to start the conversation on a—
“Hello?”
“How could you?” Her emotions spilled over her common sense, and the hurt came from her mouth on the back of accusatory words. “Why would you do this?”
The static-filled pause on the other end was unreadable. Was he thinking about what he did? Or was he going down the long list of things he had done to ferret out which one she was talking about? With each second of silence, her heart dropped lower, and she berated herself for even having a heart at all.
“—talking about. Zoe?”
“I’m talking about the Tell All website, Salem!” Zoe paced in front of the picture window, which showed nothing but grey, rainy weather. She pulled the curtains shut in frustration and turned on a lamp, hoping to warm up her mood. But it didn’t help. Even the cinnamon-scented steam of her hot tea didn’t soothe her.
“What website?” There was so much yelling and loud music in the background she could barely hear him.
“About me. About our relationship. How much did they pay you?”
More static, then a female voice screeching, Let’s go!
Salem said something she didn’t catch.
“What did you say?” Zoe clenched her teeth.
“I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words sounded as if the wind were whipping them from his mouth.
Pressing her lips together, she marveled at what a fool she had been. Did she expect him to confess and apologize? Well, she was the stupid one. “I hope they paid you enough, Salem. Maybe you’ll get even more when you publish the tell-it-all book.” Trembling with fury, she spat out her last words. “I trusted you!”
“Zoe, honey, please listen. I have no idea what’s going on. I haven’t been talking to anyone. I’ve been—”
The phone cut off, and she tossed it on the sofa in disgust, then burst into tears. She wasn’t going to call him back.
Salem looked at his phone as if it had just bit him on the ear. Bewildered at Zoe’s accusations, he barely registered Jamal tapping him on the shoulder.
“Let’s go, old man,” he said with a sneer. “We’re on in five. Get your ass backstage.”
“Yeah.” Moving in slow motion, he slid the phone into his pocket. He’d call her after the set. Dammit. By the time he finished, she’d be onstage for hers. He pulled his phone out for the second time and called her number. Much to his anguish it rang and rang with no answer.
“Backstage, arsch.” The drummer shoved past him; earbuds still jammed in his skull. “Now.”
“Geh zum Teufel,” he snapped. The astonished look the drummer gave him over his shoulder gave him a sneaky satisfaction. Though the actual language escaped him, the curse words were self-explanatory. “Fuck,” Salem mumbled under his breath and pushed through the crowd behind the burly band member. He’d try to call Zoe later.
Feeling that Way
Awful was not awful enough to describe how she felt. Her harsh words rang in her ears as she sat on the sofa. She always had been too quick on the draw, jumping to conclusions without having all the facts. But, she had been so overcome with a feeling of betrayal that she couldn’t contain herself.
To soothe herself, Zoe sipped vodka and dabbed at her eyes, swollen from crying. The alcohol would fry her already weak vocal cords, but she didn’t care if she sounded like she gargled with glass shards at tonight’s show. She tried not to think of anything at all. Someone knocked at the door, and she went to answer it, still sniffling.
“Hey, Zoe, I—,” Holland stood in the hallway. “What’s going on?” Arm around her shoulders, he guided her to the sofa.
“Nothing. Everything.” She put her hands to her face and sobbed. “There was a blind item on the Tell All website, and…I think it might have been Salem.”
“Well,” Holland said, reasonably. “Can you say that for sure? I mean, you don’t want to be jumping to conclusions.”
Zoe nodded, then shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said, her common sense flowing back. “Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was someone else.” She retrieved her phone, tapped to bring up the page and handed it to Holland. “Read it yourself.”
He read through the words, frowning at some parts, then handed the phone back to her. His eyes were sad. “Zee…” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Zoe sat and let the phone slide from her hand onto the coffee table. Shaking her head, she picked up her teacup and wrapped her hands around its warmth. “I can’t believe he would do something like this to me. He seemed…we seemed…” she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words that showed she’d opened her heart even the tiniest bit. “I guess I was wrong.”
Holland sat next to her and patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Zee,” he said again.
Sighing, she leaned her head on his shoulder. Holland was like an older brother to her, guiding her through the changes in the music business for the past few years. She trusted Holland. “You warned me,” she said softly. “You did.”
“I didn’t want to be right,” he said and hugged her. “Look here; you’ll get him out of your system soon enough. What you should be doing is resting up for the show tonight.” He patted her back. “It’s the last set, and we get to go home for the year.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I’m looking forward to going home and sitting on my own sofa. And you’re right. I’m going to lie down.” She stood. “Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime.” He nodded. “Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”
The next morning, Zoe rolled her knit skirt in slow motion while Renee packed her makeup bag. Zoe, though lost in her thoughts, missed Renee’s chatter. The overbearing quiet pressed down on her ears like cotton batting.
“Say something, Renee.”
Her assistant pushed a curl behind her ear and made a helpless gesture. “He doesn’t seem like that type of person,” she said thoughtfully. “I mean, that stupid website will write anything they think will get hits. I don’t know,” she concluded. “It doesn’t seem like something he would do.” Renee glanced at her, then away. “What would be the purpose?” She went back to her task.
Zoe flopped down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t even know anymore. I don’t. I called him. I probably shouldn’t have.”
Renee stopped what she was doing and stared at Zoe, her eyes wide. “Zoe, please tell me you didn’t.”
She nodded, feeling near tears again. “I did. I was angry. I—”
“You yelled at him? Over the phone? Long distance? Jeez, Zoe.” Shaking her head, Renee resumed packing. “I don’t know what to say.”
Zoe’s temper flared at the idea that her assistant was criticizing her. “It had to be him,” she said, anger renewed. “There’s no other person who I talked to like that.”
Renee opened her mouth to say something, but a look from Zoe stopped her. Instead, she increased her speed of packing and said nothing.
World Gone Wild
“Hey, Christmas Eve, right?” Jamal raised a glass of absinthe in a toast. “Few more days, and you go home to your girl, right?”
When he wasn’t drunk, or tense before a show, Jamal was tolerable. The older man was a veteran of the touring scene, had been for years. He often laughed good-naturedly (and sometimes not so good-naturedly) at Salem’s reactions to the entire experience. He’d even tried to teach Salem a few phrases in Czech and German, but nothing stuck beyond the curse words. Those were easy. If he were out by himself, Salem resorted to pointing, nodding, using a translation app on his phone. The money wasn’t a problem; he used his credit card most of the time and kept his fingers crossed when he used the local currency.
Budapest was cold, and the wind never stopped blowing. Even the extra layers he wore under his pea coat didn’t keep the damp chill from reaching his very bones. But never mind his bones, it was his hands he was most worried about. The band’s penchant for old soul and funk covers, especially Stevie Wonder, had his right thumb sore from too much slapping. He lost every pair of gloves he bought from street vendors, and he had resorted to ordering a cup of coffee every place they played, just to warm his hands.
According to Dana’s chirpy report, his mother was doing well in rehab and would be home after the New Year. She, on the other hand, was going to visit a friend for the holidays, since Salem wasn’t going to be home in time for Christmas. He almost asked her where she was going and with whom, but he kept his questions to himself. Knowing Dana, it would come out sooner or later.
The Christmas lights and decorations of the city were undeniably beautiful, which made him miss home even more. Zoe’s tour was over, and she was home for the holidays, whereas he had a couple more days to endure. He was counting the days where he could get to the airport and get somewhere warm and close to Zoe.
That is if she’d talk to him. With all the traveling at odd hours and the time difference, there was never a time to try to reach her. When he managed to squeeze in two minutes together the phone rang and rang with no answer. He nodded at Jamal and raised his glass of mulled wine. They could laugh if they wanted, there was no way he was drinking something green.
“Soon, yes,” he said and downed half his drink.
“Merry Christmas everybody!” Renee shouted as she waltzed into Zoe’s front hallway carrying two huge shopping bags full of presents. “We fucking made it!”
Zoe laughed and came to relieve her of her burdens. “Merry Belated Christmas, Renee.” She handed off the bags to Jeffrey, who took them into the living room and put them under the tree.
The two women embraced and kissed each other on the cheek.
Renee held her at arm’s length. “You look good, lady! Getting off the road agrees with you.”
Zoe shrugged. “It’s only been a couple of days.”
“Well,” Renee nodded. “That was enough to make a damn difference. Who’s got a drink for me?” She practically skipped into the dining room, where the bar was set up in a corner.
Manning his usual place behind the bar, Holland put a drink together quickly and gave it to her. “Gin and juice,” he said. “For you.”
Renee tipped the glass back and took a generous swallow. “That hit the spot, Holly, my dear.” She drained the glass and dropped it on the bar. “Hit me again.”
“Hey,” Zoe said, from the sofa. “Aren’t you driving?”
Renee picked up her fresh drink. “If you had attended three family Christmas parties in two days, you would not deny me these drinks.”
“Holland, give her one of those tiny straws.” Zoe fixed her with a steely glance. “You’d better be sipping that, or you’re staying over.”
The little family, minus Wallace, who had whisked his wife off to Hawaii at her insistence, chatted and reminisced about the tour, as they did at the end of year. When they moved into the dining room to eat, Zoe insisted everyone put their phone in a basket so as to not be distracted during the meal.
“I’m talking to you, Renee.” Zoe tapped the side of the basket. “In it goes.”
Renee looked up from her phone. “You can’t do this to me, Zoe. I’m gonna miss stuff.”
“Put the phone in the damn basket.” Zoe fixed her with a stern glare.
Reluctantly, Renee dropped her phone in the wicker basket.
“Ha,” Holland said. “How long do you think you’re going to last?”
Renee flipped him the bird.
“Give yours up too, Holland, or I’ll pat you down.” Zoe stuck the basket under his nose.
“That’s not the worst offer I’ve had.” He grinned but dropped his phone in the basket.
Jeffrey and Mitchell did the same. The dinner was laid out, buffet style on the dining room sideboard, everyone to serve themselves.
In the middle of dinner, Renee jumped up, claiming to have to use the powder room. On her way out, she snatched up her phone out of the basket.
“Renee!” Zoe called after her. “That’s not allowed.”
“Two minutes,” Renee said. “I promise.”
Holland scraped his plate. “God forbid she miss an email about a sale.”
The three of them laughed.
“Who doesn’t love a sale?” Zoe said good-naturedly and finished the wine in her glass. “I want to thank you, Holland.”
“For what?”
“You’ve supported me on this last go-round of touring.” She took his hand and squeezed it briefly. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Holland ducked his head and looked at his plate. “I…didn’t do so much. I mean,” He raised his gaze to hers. “I care about you, that’s all. I can’t stand seeing you upset. You know, Zoe—"
“Goddamnit, Holland, what did you do?” Renee’s face was flushed as she stood in the doorway. She held up the phone in her hand.
“What are you talking about?” He half rose from his seat. “Is that my phone?” He pushed back his chair and moved toward her.
Renee darted around the table, away from him.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Jeffrey.
Renee jammed the phone into Zoe’s hands and pointed. “It was you, Holland. You’re the one who contacted the website and told them all that stuff about Zoe.”
“Why the fuck do you have my phone anyway?”
Eyes blazing with fury, Renee ignored the question. “Why would you do that?” Renee put her hands on her hips. “Zoe has been nothing but straight and fair to you. You’re a douche.”
Zoe had never seen Renne so angry. Mildly annoyed – usually with her – , but never this full outrage.
“Give me my phone!” Holland put his hand out as he came around the table towards the two women.
“Hold on,” Mitchell said, standing to block Holland’s path. “What’s going on here?”
While Mitchell rounded up Holland, Jeff tried to mediate. “Why don’t we take it down a notch and act like y’all got some sense.”
The angry voices faded into the background as Zoe scanned the email on the screen. Hands shaking, she placed the phone in Holland’s outstretched hand and looked right into his eyes.
“Holland!” Anger chilled her so much that a shiver went down her spine. “How. Dare. You.”
“Zoe, I—” Holland’s eyes went wide at her tone. She had never spoken to him like this before. “I—"
“No.” She held up a hand to stop him. “There’s nothing you can say that is going to erase the damage you caused.”
Renee crossed her arms, daggers shooting from her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but Zoe put a hand on her upper arm.
“Renee.”
Holland shoved the phone into his pocket, looking defiant.
“All right then.” Jeffrey got up. “Looks like you two have something to talk about.” He kissed Zoe’s cheek. “Call me if you need anything.” To Holland, he said, “I’ve known you for years, and I never thought you would pull a stunt like that.”
Mitchell patted Zoe’s shoulder. “Catch you later, Ms. Zee. Thanks for the meal. We’ll let ourselves out.” They both retrieved their phones from the basket.
“Thanks, fellas,” Zoe said quietly. “Appreciate the company.”
Only when Zoe and Holland both looked at Renee did she drop her death glare.
She heaved a great sigh and gave Zoe a one-armed hug. “I have a shovel, just in case, okay?”
Despite her anger, Zoe giggled a little. “Okay.”
“You.” Renee looked like she wanted to spit. “Unbelievable.”
“I’ll call you,” said Zoe. “Thanks for coming.”
“Make sure you take the right phone,” Holland barked.
“Shut up and go fuck yourself.” Renee grabbed her phone from the basket and left.
Finally, it was her and Holland. “We have to talk.” She walked into the living room with Holland following like a chastised dog.
Once seated on the sofa, she patted the cushion next to her. She wanted him close enough to look into his eyes. “Sit.”
Gingerly, he sat. “Zoe, let me—”
“How did you know about us?”
“I saw him coming out of your room. The night of the second show. Then, you disappeared right after the third show. And I saw the texts on your phone.”
Shocked, Zoe could only stare at him. “You looked at my phone? Spied on me?”
“I’m sorry, Zoe.” He dropped his eyes to his lap. His phone vibrated, but he ignored it.
Zoe drew a breath and let it out in a long, weary sigh. “Just tell me why. Please. I need to know.”
“I was jealous.”
“Why would you be jealous?” As far as she knew, Holland had all the female attention he could handle.
“Don’t make me spell it out.”
Shaking her head, Zoe closed her eyes, then opened them. Now, it all made sense. His insistence on staying on tour, handling everything for her, and always taking the stress off her shoulders when she needed. Being there. For her.
