Page 46 of Still Her

“Doesn’t sound possible,” I respond as I shake my head, trying to fathom the idea.

“Trust me, it is. It’s just different.”

I nod. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. But are we ever going to talk about what’s going on with you?” I drop my head in response, letting my hair fall in my face. “Something’s going on. I’m assuming it’s with your agent. Thought you were going to fill me in,” he reminds me.

I draw in a deep breath and let it out as I bring my head back up. I did say I’d fill him in, but dammit, saying the words now are as hard to say as they were to Ian back home. So much has happened since Eli made his first move, making the situation so much more monumental and harder to talk about.

“Yeah, it has to do with our agent, Eli Costa. Ever work with him?”

“No.” George answers, putting his own pool cue down and picking up his glass. “Heard of him though. We were already locked in with Excel when his firm started getting attention.”

I nod as I lean back on the pool table and polish off what’s left in my glass before setting it off to the side. I grip the side of the table as I run the other through my hair and decide to spit it out. “He’s after my wife, man.”

His jaw drops and his eyes widen as he takes a step closer to me. “Jack…” he starts, I’m sure trying to find something encouraging or compassionate to say. He looks around the room for the words. “What is he –,”

“Please don’t make me say anymore,” I plead, resting both hands beside me on the table.

He’s silent for a moment before bringing his shoulders up and asking “What can I do?”

I shake my head and give a one shoulder shrug. “We’re handling it.” That’s a lie.Mayzie’shandling it. While I stand by, useless. Helpless to protect her. We leave for New York late tomorrow afternoon, and then it’s a ticking time bomb. The band has several appearances to make in addition to the two shows we are doing at Madison Square, and who knows which time the motherfucker will choose to move in. My mind hops on a train and I quickly assess where it’s going.

“What are you doing after thatRock into the Holidaything tomorrow?” I ask as he holds up the bottle of Johnny with a raised eyebrow and I shake my head, politely declining.

“Nothing planned,” he answers, as he pours himself another shot. “Not touring right now, as you know. Erin and I are taking time to get to know the little one and the rest of the guys are catching their breath too. We’re just doing occasional appearances so we maintain our presence. Why?”

“I think I thought of a way you could help. I’m not entirely sure… but maybe,” I say, nodding at the floor before pushing off the table to address him head-on. “Can you come to New York? You and the band?”

He nods gently, considering this. “I think so. At least I can. I’ll have to check with the other guys, and Erin would have to get back to L.A.. One of us has to get back to the baby. This is our first time apart from her.” He lifts a shoulder and shakes his head back and forth before dropping it. “But if it will help you…”

“It’s hard to tell yet, but it might.” I nod as if trying to convince myself while searching his eyes.

“You got it,” he answers without a waiver. It’s then that Erin appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Hey doll,” George addresses her affectionately, and she blushes slightly at him.

“Where’s Maze?” I inquire.

“Asleep,” she informs me with a sigh. She’s giving us a small smile, but I detect a hint of somberness underneath, like maybe she’s disappointed. I think she sees me noticing and quickly tries to correct it, taking on a lighthearted disposition. “Yeah, she came up with about twenty-six different uses for the word ‘douche’ and then ppppt...” she makes the sound between her lips as she sweeps her hand flat through the air. “I lost her,” she concludes with a flippant shrug.

I smile faintly and chuckle inwardly to myself, shaking my head as I look down, not sure what to make of this. On one hand, I’m glad Mayzie was able to let go and relax a little, enough so that she’s finally getting some sleep. On the other hand, I’m pissed that we’re at a place that she needed it so badly.

“Her getting to bed on her own is not going to happen, by the way.” Erin adds. This time I chuckle aloud.

“S’okay,” I muse, letting the fondness of a memory overtake me and bring a warm smile to my lips. “Won’t be the first time.”

The warmth in my heart grows greater as I walk into the other room and find my baby curled up on the end of one of the couches with her hand tucked beneath her chin. Her other hand is clutching an empty wine glass to her chest and her lips are closed, making her cute little snore barely audible.

Later, when we’re in our own room and I’ve gotten her dress off her and gotten her in bed, she rolls toward me. Still not conscious, she reaches over and presses her warm hand to my chest and I’m overwhelmed by the feeling it gives me; the feeling of being grounded, like she’s seeking me even in her sleep, needing the comfort and safety she gets from being near me. I take that thought and hold on tightly to it. I reach over and put my arm over her body, tucking it into mine. I may not get to stand in front of her when she faces off with that pathetic excuse for a man, but this… this I can do.

* * *

MAYZIE

I wake up the next morning feeling less than stellar and am greeted by Little Demon Fucker Eli banging pots and pans inside my head. Stupid alcohol. It totally acts like your friend and then the next morning, it stabs you in the back. Needless to say, I pass on a mimosa when Jack and I join George and Erin in their suite for brunch before he and I have to head out with the band.

Before we got up, Jack let me know that he’d confided in George and told him the gist, but hadn’t given him all the details, which is fine. I get why he did. It means Erin knows by now too, most likely, which is okay too. Last night I was just so exhausted and also worried that she’d take some kind of action out of genuine concern, I just couldn’t muster up the gumption to tell her myself.

We keep the conversation light and away from Mr. McDouche, focusing instead on exchanging stories of baby and tour shenanigans. We talk about future plans and ventures here and there, but a cold, shady feeling washes over me each time we bring up a prospect. The reality of the situation quietly rears its head each time, reminding us that the fate of our future may or may not be certain, depending on what happens in New York. When Jack brings up a future album, we go quiet for a moment. The same thing happens when George and Erin suggest going to the Grammy’s together. That douche-weasel - yeah, I thought of a couple more in the shower this morning - is just sucking the joy out of everything.

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