Page 59 of Mayhem

“I’ll call you back,” I mumble to Ian before hanging up the call.

I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to see the anxiety and confusion on my baby girl’s face. And I sure as shit don’t want to explain what the fuck is going on right now.

But I can’t lie to her either. That’s not how we do things.

My phone starts ringing again, and I see that it’s Tess. My heart lurches, wanting to take the call and explain myself, but I need to explain this to Charlie first. She’s my priority. Always.

Switching my phone off, I fall onto the edge of my bed, patting the space next to me for her to sit with me. She hesitates at first, wary of my sour mood, but jumps up and leans her head onto my arm.

“What happened?” she asks quietly.

Jesus. Where do I begin? Sierra was one of the few girlfriends that I had that got along with Charlie. At least, I thought they did. Maybe that was all a lie too. Then again, I was still in and out of parenthood at the time, and they really didn’t see all that much of each other.

“Do you remember Sierra?”

“Yeah. She was pretty.”

Charlie was around five when Sierra and I dated, so maybe her memory of her isn’t as solid as I’d thought. That could turn out to be a saving grace if she’s not expecting much from her.

“She was. Well, she’s telling people that she and I are back together…”

Charlie sits up straight, automatic defiance taking her small frame over. I see so much of myself in her right now. “But you’re with Tess. Not Sierra. She’s lying.”

I nod. “She is lying.” Memories of Tess leaving today’s rehearsal in a hurry come crashing into my mind. That’s why she left so quickly. What did Ian say? They overheard my conversation? Well, part of it anyway. They obviously didn’t hear the whole thing. Now it all makes sense. “And I think Tess might think Sierra is telling the truth.”

“But, why?” Charlie’s brow furrows, and her confusion is so relatable, but at the same time it strikes a chord of guilt through me.

I replay everything that I said to Sierra this afternoon, and for the life of me, I can’t imagine what they overheard to make her believe any of this. But Tess is no fool. There must have been something that triggered her. I’ve obviously done something to fuck things up.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’m going to call her now and try to clear this up.” It’s the best I can do. I can’t promise anything. “Give me a few minutes?”

She hugs me tightly, which is exactly what I need in this moment, and then slides off the bed. “Make sure you tell Tess that you love her, so that she can tell you’re telling the truth.”

My brows raise. “Love her? It’s a bit soon, don’t you think?” Am I considering dating advice from my eight-year-old? I think I am. But love? Really? Is that what we’re talking about?

She stops in the doorway, and glances back at me over her shoulder. “But it’s the truth, isn’t it? You love her?”

She disappears back down the hall before I can answer, let alone think of one.

Way to hit and run little one.

37

TRUE COLORS

TESS

He doesn’t answer. I finally got the nerve up to call and face whatever is going on, and he doesn’t even answer. Of course he doesn’t. He’s probably trying to avoid me at all costs, just like earlier at rehearsals. What else did I expect? For him to just come out and admit that he’s been stringing me along this whole time?

People don’t work that way. Especially rockstars. He’s probably got ‘girlfriends’ in every damn town they’ve ever played for all I know. Sierra is just the tip of the iceberg. There are plenty more where she came from, I’m sure. Guys like Brad don’t stick to just one person. They can’t. It’s not in their nature.

Eliza’s call had bolstered me into action. Be professional. Do my fucking job. Get the details. Spin it in whatever way is best for the band. For the label. For Brad.

But what about me? Where do I fit into any of this? Other than the one doing the clean up? How can I clean up a mess that has utterly destroyed me, only minutes after it happened?

All my life I have had to be the strong one. The one who fixes things. From my family to my friends, to my love life. It’s what I do, and I do it well, which is why this profession is perfect for me. But this is going above and beyond.

Being the strong one all the time is exhausting. I’m tested repeatedly, just to see how well I can take the hit, and I’m tired. Tired of getting back up and dusting myself off, only to be decimated again. Tired of being the person who isn’t supposed to react. Take it on the chin and ask for more.

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