Page 28 of Mysterious

“Was it the stalker?” Crystal asks in a voice full of fear.

“No. It was just a bunch of people out having a good time that got a little out of hand. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. I think the scratch on my shoulder happened when someone fell into me and I caught my arm on a barstool. Seriously, you don’t have to worry about me. Liam would never let anyone do anything to harm me.”

Crystal lets out a heavy sigh, clearly relieved by what I’m saying, but Ainsley simply sits next to her shaking her head. I so don’t need her ridiculous anger about the only man I can truly trust right now.

“What? Why are you sitting there giving me that look and shaking your head?” I snap, challenging her to give her opinion, even though I’m not in the mood for it.

I can see in her eyes she wants to tell me what’s on her mind, but she merely shrugs, keeping her ideas about Liam to herself for once. “Nothing. I’m just scared after seeing him bring you in and the blood on your shoulder. You know how I get whenever I see blood. A nurse I could never be.”

“Well, you don’t have to be worried or scared or anything. Liam took care of everything, including me. Nobody touched me. Nothing bad happened. It just got a little edgy for a few minutes there. If anything, it was my fault for telling him I wanted to go to a bar tonight. I should have known there would be people there who might want to meet me.”

Ainsley listens to all I have to say and then leans forward toward me. “But how did they know it was you? You were wearing the blond wig.”

Suddenly, I realize I don’t have it on anymore. I feel the top of my head and know that wig is long gone somewhere in that bar. Looking at Crystal, I reach my hand out to take hers.

“I am so sorry. In the ruckus, it must have slipped off. I’ll replace it. I promise. I’m sorry, Crystal.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s okay,” she says, genuinely happy only her wig got lost in the shuffle. “I have lots of wigs, and I even have a few exactly like the one you were wearing. You don’t have to replace it, but if you want, you can get me a nice long one. I’ve been thinking that’s the next one I want to add to my collection. A nice long, platinum blond wig. I saw one a few weeks ago and it was so great! Wait until you see it!”

Ainsley sits back and folds her arms across her chest. “Well, that’s all well and good, but shouldn’t Liam have made sure no one could touch you at all? Isn’t that his entire job?”

My emotions nearly boil over at hearing her attack him like that, and I swing my feet off the sofa to stand up because I need to get the hell away from her right now. She stares up at me in shock that I don’t answer either of her asinine questions before I march into my bedroom and order everyone to leave.

“Time to go, guys! I need to get some rest. Feel free to hang out in the outer room, if you want.”

I hear someone walking behind me, so I spin around to see who it is. Ainsley stops dead and levels her gaze on me, like she expects that I’ll answer either of her questions now before I go to sleep.

“Whatever you’re trying to say about Liam, you need to back off. He did exactly what I wanted him to do tonight. I wanted to go to a bar, so he accompanied me and made sure I was safe. It’s not his fault some assholes got into a bar brawl and knocked into me. So I don’t want to hear your opinion, Ainsley. Good night!”

She stands in the doorway wide-eyed and surprised I’ve shut down any chance for us to talk about this issue right now. I might not even talk about it tomorrow or ever, for that matter. Her opinion about him means nothing to me. Ainsley needs to learn if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

Her mouth opens like she wants to rebut all I’ve told her, but I slam the door before she can utter a single syllable. If she wants to talk tomorrow, that’s fine, but if all she has to offer is more negativity about the man I’m crazy about, she can keep that to herself.

I close my eyes and fall back onto the bed, exhausted but thrilled about tonight. Liam and I slept together, and it was incredible! Now I just need to convince him nothing that happened at the bar was his fault. Knowing him, that will be easier said than done.

Then a thought occurs to me. Maybe it would be easiest sung.

Scrambling across the bed to look for my journal and pen I keep with me whenever I travel, I begin to jot down some ideas for a song that will let him know how much he means to me and how much none of tonight could be blamed on him. For the first time in a long time, my mind works faster than my pen, so I have to hurry to keep up with my thoughts. They come faster than I can keep up, though, so I begin to sing them in the hopes that I’ll remember each one better.

I sing and write, and it all comes out quicker than I ever thought a song could come. The music practically writes itself, a song meant to be sung by me alone with only a piano on stage. I imagine the lights dimmed and only a single spot on me as I share my feelings for Liam with the entire world, but only he’ll know I’m singing about us. Everyone else will think it’s just another love song written by Mia.

By the time I finish nearly two hours later, I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to. I have to get this song recorded. I can’t wait to be sure the track is down so I can listen to it and see where it needs little tweaks.

It has to happen tonight.

Grabbing my phone, I call my mother to get her onto the task of having the plane ready for me. She answers in a groggy voice like I’ve woken her up out of a sound sleep. I look over at the clock and see it’s barely midnight.

“I need to fly to Miami right now. Get the pilot and the plane ready. I’ll leave as soon as I can get to the airport.”

The response I get is silence from her end. Did she fall back to sleep, or is she simply in shock that I want to fly down to the recording studio I love the most to get this track down before dawn?

“Are you there? You heard what I said, right?” I ask, already irritated by her lack of enthusiasm.

She knows if I’m saying I want to go to Miami that I’m planning to record something. You’d think she’d be all for that. More songs to please the fans and bring more money in. She usually cares more about that than anything else.

“I heard you. I’m just not sure I understand. You want to fly to Miami tonight and do what?”

How is she not getting this? Inspiration has struck, and I’m sitting here trying to explain the basics of what I want to do tonight. Some manager she is.

---