Tangled Up In You: A Rogue Series Novel Page 10

  It was easy to put the voice to the person, as Christian Hale stood taller than most. They greeted each other with a familiar hug.

  “How the hell have you been, mate?” Christian asked with a hearty Australian accent. “And more importantly, why didn’t you invite me to the bloody wedding?”

  Gavin laughed. Tabloids had been running with a story saying he and Sophie had secretly married in advance of her soon giving birth. “Ah, you know it hasn’t happened yet—not without you there, man. Listen,” he said and pulled Sophie closer to him, “meet my girl, Sophie. Sophie, this is my mentor, my great friend, Christian Hale.”

  Sophie smiled and found herself looking up at the singer of Australia’s most respected pop-punk band, Scandal. At 6’4” and with a white-blond crew cut and full-sleeve tattoos on his arms, he was an imposing figure. But his smile was welcoming and boyish, belying his thirty years.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Sophie said.

  Christian surprised her by pulling her into a quick hug. “Bloody marvelous to meet you, love. I don’t know why I had to learn about you through the rags, though.” He gave Gavin a scowl.

  “For fuck’s sake, Hale, I was going to tell you if you gave me a minute,” Gavin said with a laugh.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’ve been busy winning awards and playing the festival circuit, I get it. Don’t forget that I knew you back in the day, mate.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sophie, remember I told you we did a mini-tour opening for Scandal right after we got our album deal? Well, that’s when I met this bastard. He took me under his considerable wing and taught me a massive amount about the music industry—”

  “Look what it got me, too—now we’ll have to fucking support Rogue next tour. And we’d be lucky to get the gig!”

  Sophie watched the two men go at it, the mutual admiration a sweet thing to see. As they stood in the tightly packed crowd talking, she was amazed to find that girls were undaunted by her presence. They continually tried to interrupt the conversation by slinking in between the two men and while Gavin got most of the attention, the girls weren’t shy around Christian either. The wedding ring on his finger was no deterrent for them, but Sophie was glad to see that he was just as uninterested as Gavin.

  “I need to hit the jax,” Gavin said after a while. “Be right back, darlin’.”

  While Christian occupied Sophie with entreaties to visit him and his wife at their beachside home, Gavin sought out Conor. He found him standing at the base of wide staircase, leaning on the railing as he surveyed the scene. Surprisingly, he had only a bottle of beer for company.

  “Aye, Con,” Gavin said, “what’s going on?”

  “Nothing. You?”

  “Christian’s here. You should come over.”

  “Yeah,” he said and fell silent.

  Gavin looked out at the crush of people, spotting Christina Aguilera despite her diminutive height. The crowd around her had expanded to give her space as she and a couple friends danced.

  “I was a dick before,” Conor said.

  “That’s cool,” Gavin said quickly to put the matter to rest. He and Conor were not in the habit of fighting. Or apologizing to each other. He wanted to bury whatever had happened and move forward.

  “It’s just . . . are you sure she’s it? I mean, you’ve barely begun this whole thing again with her. Are you sure you know?”

  “I know it’s sudden. But I am absolutely sure.”

  “And her?” Conor asked, gesturing to Sophie at one of the clusters of seating. She had left Christian and was trying to get Shay’s attention. He sat on a sofa, headphones on as he blocked out the party. “You know for sure she’s ready for it to be just you?”

  Gavin nodded without hesitation. “I am. See, she’s only ever had me love her, if you take my meaning.”

  Conor eyed his friend for a moment. “You’re joking me.”

  “Almost too good to be true, aye? She’s still my pure girl.”

  Conor shook his head and laughed. “But still, marriage? Why don’t you just live together?”

  “Because I don’t want just that. I need her to be my wife. She’s . . . she’s my one. The one that makes everything bearable when I’m running empty, you know?”

  Conor took this in before saying, “Guess it’s meant to be then.”

  “Yeah.” Gavin exhaled and his body relaxed. They could move on now and establish the new norm, one with Sophie in it. “So, I’ve gotta take a piss. Then I’m getting us both a shot, okay?”

  “Bring the fucking bottle, why don’t you,” Conor returned with a smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  In a virtual reenactment of their first meeting, Sophie went to Shay unnoticed and leaned down to catch his attention. He glanced up and got an eyeful of her partially exposed cleavage and quickly pulled his headphones off.

  “Hi Sophie. Join me,” he said.

  Sophie held out her hand instead. “Come with me,” she said.

  He took it and stood up. “Where to?”

  Without answering, she wrapped her arm through his and led him up the stairs to the second level and then continued on to the third level where a private dining space had been set up as a lounge. Everyone seemed to be down on the first level, dancing and drinking with abandon and it left them with both the time and space to observe the scene.

  “I thought we could both use a break,” she said.

  “Don’t you want to be with Gavin, though?”

  “He’s making nice with Conor.”

  “I’m sorry he was so rude earlier.”

  Sophie turned her eyes away from the party below them to look at Shay. He had always had a level of sensitivity the other boys lacked.

  “You don’t have to apologize for him.”

  “Still—”

  “He’s testing me. Testing Gavin. I’m guessing he doesn’t even know that he’s doing it. But he’s threatened by me, worried that I’m going to change everything.”

  Shay nodded. “And will you?”

  The directness of the question surprised her, but she gave it thought. “I hope not. That’s not what I want.”

  He appraised her for a long moment. “It’ll be grand.”

  She knew his use of the word “grand” meant “fine” in his vernacular and appreciated this vote of confidence so much that she wanted to hug him for the support. But she knew that he would be uncomfortable with that.

  “So,” she said, changing directions, “don’t you take advantage of the girls, Shay?”

  He laughed. “You want the truth?”

  “Of course.”

  “I do, on occasion. Usually when I’ve had some drink in me.”

  Sophie saw him blush. “You’re still shy?”

  “A bit, but it’s talking about sex with you more than anything.”

  “I suppose we are practically strangers now.”

  “No, it’s not that. What’s weird is seeing you again, it feels like school was yesterday. It’s more about admitting to you that I do the rock star thing—it’s such a cliché.”

  “Yeah, I suppose it is. But, I know you’re not one of those guys that got into this for the girls. I know you do it for the love and art of making music.”

  Shay smiled and shook his head. “God, you can still do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “You have a way about you. You focus on the one you’re with . . . you can make someone feel like the most special thing there is.”

  Now Sophie laughed. “I can do that?”

  Before he could reply, Gavin joined them. “There’s my girl! Won’t this be a story—‘band’s drummer steals singer’s fiancée.’”

  “Hey, at least I’ll follow in Clapton’s footsteps of stealing George Harrison’s wife, yeah?” Shay asked with a sheepish grin.

  “Yeah, if you could manage the impossible.” Gavin smiled as he wrapped his arm around Sophie.

  ~

  The party was still going strong at four o’clock, as Gavin and
Christian held court on a set of sofas, a small crowd around them, including some of the members of The Strokes, as they exchanged tour stories.

  Sophie, not yet used to keeping these late hours, found herself close to nodding off so she wound her way past the third level and out onto the roof. The cool early morning air was a welcome relief. She felt refreshed and enjoyed the sense of expectation that came with the darkness softening as the sun began to edge its way up. Looking over the railing, she was surprised by the amount of foot and street traffic. Tilting her head back toward the opposite direction, she saw dozens of stories up to the top of the nearby Four Seasons Hotel.

  “This is a nice hideout,” Conor said, coming up behind her. He held a joint in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

  She glanced at him before looking up again, this time trying in vain to find any hint of stars. Both the city lights and the brightening sky blotted out whatever was up there.

  “What are you escaping from, then?” he asked.

  She looked at him again, wary. “Maybe you, depending on what you’ve got to say to me now,” she replied with a laugh.

  His smile was tight, contrite. He shook his head. “Care for any of this?” He held out the joint.

  “No, I’m good.”

  They shared in the burgeoning city noises together for a couple minutes as he smoked.

  “Listen,” he finally said, “drink got the better of me. Forgive me?”

  When she looked at him again, he seemed embarrassed. That was enough to let it go. “Sure. No harm—as long as you’ll admit that I’m not the enemy.”

  “Ah, I know you’re not, Soph.” He paused. “Really, I’ll not be giving you any more hassle.”

  She examined him and saw that he was sincere. Nodding to put an end to the awkward apology, she then looked down to the street again, wondering where so many people were going at this hour.

  He finished the joint, drained his water bottle, and stayed there with her.

  A breeze picked up and left her skin with goose bumps. She rubbed her arms and glanced at Conor. He had been watching her and didn’t stop his gaze now. It was a look she had seen from him before.

  “Connie, be a gentleman and give me your jacket.” She wasn’t that cold but she wanted to disrupt whatever lascivious thoughts he was having.

  Blinking, he set the empty water bottle on the roof ledge before pulling his leather jacket off.

  She looked back at the street in anticipation of the warmth of Conor’s jacket. Instead, she was tickled as he trailed his fingers along the bare skin of her back. Before she could pull away, he had his mouth to her ear.

  “Shame you’ve never known another man’s touch,” he said and rested his warm palm against the cool skin at the small of her back, his fingertips inside the fabric of her dress. “You’d like it.” He removed his hand but at the same time, leaned into her as he gently pressed his lips to her bare neck for just a moment before placing his jacket over her shoulders.

  The eroticism of his touch paralyzed her. She felt herself being seduced. The fact that he was able to have this effect on her was confusing. She didn’t want to admit she could be attracted to him and forced herself to shake it off. Taking in a deep, sharp breath, she pulled away from him and walked several feet toward the other side of the rooftop.

  She was bewildered, both by what his statement implied—that he knew Gavin was the only man she had been with—and by her response to his advance. It took a few seconds to convince herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong, that it was Conor who had crossed the line. She would have to revise her earlier declaration to Shay that Conor didn’t realize he was acting out. Because it now seemed to her he knew exactly what he was doing.

  When she turned back around to tell him as much, she found he had disappeared. The incident—or should she call it the test—was clearly over for him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The view from the heights of the Boom Boom Room at the top of the Standard Hotel High Line in the Meatpacking District was unparalleled.

  “The city lights from the Hollywood sign have nothing on this,” Sophie murmured to Gavin as they looked out through the floor to ceiling windows at a mesmerizing evening view of Manhattan across the Hudson River. The Empire State Building was clear among the glittering cluster of buildings in Midtown. The pleasure of this unique view came in second for Sophie, however, to watching Gavin taking it all in. He was truly amazed, and she was reminded once more that he was on sensory overload. The band had taken off much more quickly than even he anticipated and their success had opened up an overwhelming number of experiences.

  “Ah, but that is the view that is burned into my heart and soul, darlin’,” he said. “I’ll never forget being there with you and hearing you say ‘yes.’”

  Sophie smiled, charmed. She surveyed the interior of the nightclub. It was a party put on by Rogue’s label and there were so many people in the space that they had to slither past each other like snakes. They were mostly drawn toward the enormous circular, showpiece bar. It had a large Art Deco fountain-like sculptural centerpiece rising from the floor and reaching the ceiling. Sophie saw Conor at the far side of the bar, his arm around the waist of a stunning brunette who was gazing up at him adoringly.

  She had last seen Shay and Martin on the open-air part of the club one floor up. Shay’s excuse for lingering there was so he could smoke, but she teased him that he really wanted to eye the bikini-clad girls taking a dip in the communal hot tub.

  They had left the previous night’s party not long after her encounter with Conor on the rooftop of Tao. She had told herself to disregard Conor’s attempt to toy with her, and he had obviously done the same as he gave no sign of it when they all shared a late lunch together.

  She and Gavin had this evening and the next day together before another separation. Her official move to Dublin would take place in two weeks.

  Sophie would be living with Gavin in the house he had purchased in the suburb of Sandymount, an area she didn’t know well. When she lived in Dublin before, she was younger and directed in where to go and how to get things done. Now, she would be making a life for herself. They would be making a life together. The prospect was both thrilling and terrifying.

  Gavin soon took her mind off such things, pulling her with him to a get another drink.

  ~

  Gavin had been having a good time at the party, regaling a group of new “friends” with the story of how Rogue had come in dead last in a battle of the bands style contest the same week they were signed. But then someone mentioned a recent Yoko Ono sighting and that sent Gavin off thinking about John Lennon. Whenever he thought of Lennon, the line “I wanted you but you didn’t want me” from his song “Mother” came to mind. After that, there was no stopping the flood of thoughts that came with this, and something shifted inside him. It was a darkening of mood he couldn’t shake off.

  He had had the same sort of spells back in school where everything seemed fine one second and in the next he was on edge and prone to push everyone away. Conor had called it “The Clash,” as in their lyric, “One day it’s fine and next it’s black.” Sophie had never known how to handle these moods, opting most often to steer clear.

  She had nowhere to go at the moment, however, as she was wedged between Gavin and Conor in the back of a taxi cab. Conor had dropped the girl he’d been chatting up and volunteered to leave with them when Sophie hurriedly explained they were going. Gavin knew Conor had read his mood and decided to assume the role he had long played, one of subtle caretaker. It was a role Gavin had relied on for years.

  Gavin leaned forward and spoke to the driver. “Aye, mate, change of plan. Take us to the Dakota. You know where that is?”

  The driver, a middle-aged Asian man, nodded shortly. “Yeah, yeah,” he grunted. “West 72nd Street and Central Park West.”

  “Why are we going there, Gavin?” Sophie asked and exchanged a quick glance with Conor.

  Gav
in was quiet for a long moment, gazing forward. The streetlights illuminated the windshield off and on rhythmically as the taxi moved along.

  “Do you know that I was destined for this?” he finally said.

  “Gav,” Conor said, “don’t do this to yourself.”

  Gavin knew Conor was right. Knew he should shut his mouth, shut down these thoughts. But he couldn’t. He needed to purge it. To vent. To rage.

  “The moment my Ma walked out the door I had no other choice. I mean, it’s almost fucking funny.”

  “How does this help?” Conor asked with frustration.

  “Let him talk,” Sophie said quietly.

  “Look at all the musicians who were fucked up by their mother dying or some abuse. Hendrix, McCartney, Lennon, Bono, Geldof—their mothers all died early on. The list is laughably endless. And me . . . I don’t even know if my mother is alive. What do you think is worse? Knowing or not knowing?”

  “You know I can’t begin to imagine,” Conor said.

  Gavin knew the list of musicians he had referenced wasn’t unfamiliar to Sophie. He had shared with her his studies of their stories back in their school days when he finally confessed the truth of his mother’s absence. When he finally told her that his mother wasn’t, in fact, dead as he let most people believe, but that she had abandoned her family after the car accident that had killed his baby sister, Nora. He had explained to Sophie that after his mother unexpectedly checked herself out of the hospital, they never saw her again. They were in shock about it, making excuses for her until it became clear that it wasn’t going to be temporary. None of her family or friends had any explanation. His father gave up, talked about her as if she were dead. His brother, Ian, simply stopped talking about her at all.

  But Gavin had always chosen to believe his mother just needed time. Time to heal before her eventual return. He still remembered the conflicted sympathy on Sophie’s face as he told her this. At that point, it had been nine years since his mother had left. It was preposterous to still have hope that she would come back, but Sophie had allowed him his denial.