Caressa's Knees (27 page)

“Excuse me.” She pushed around the woman when she looked like she might talk to her, and then Kyle took her under the arm outside the door and led her to a chair beside the cake table.

“Some people have brought presents, Caressa,” he said in a voice that she understood to mean,
Sit
your ass down here and open your presents
.

She parked herself in the chair and swallowed a protest when he made off with her nearly-full glass. There was a plaque of appreciation from the French orchestra, something she needed like a hole in her head, but she smiled and made a fuss over it before passing it to Kyle. There were a few bottles of wine from individual musicians, and a collection of gift cards to local sights and restaurants. As if she had the time or inclination to go out and gad about town like a tourist. It was like something Kyle would make her do. Jeremy and Nell got her an illustrated book about famous cellos and cello makers. It was actually a pretty cool gift. Had Kyle told them about her fascination with the great makers, with her own priceless
Peresson
? She thanked them, and thanked Aunt Denise for the earrings she’d bought her to match the pendant she already had on. Then Kyle handed her a silver bag with iridescent tissue paper. She knew this one was from him.

What had he gotten her? The room was so quiet now. Some of the guests had already gone but most were arrayed around her chair and she suddenly felt intensely nervous. Her fingers shook as she parted the tissue to pull out a small, plain bound book. It had the words
Les
Horaires
du RER, Metro, Train
et
TGV/
Eurostar
on the cover. She flipped the book open and realized like a punch to the gut what she was looking at. Her world went red.

“Train schedules, Kyle?
Really?”
She stood without thinking and threw it at him—and missed. She wanted it back so she could rip it to shreds in front of his face. He just stared at her, with reproach and longing. It enraged her. She forgot about everyone watching and started yelling at him. “Enough! Enough already! I get it. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t understand what you keep trying to say over and over and
over
!
”

He shook his head a little, but she was beyond stopping and shutting the fuck up.

“I hate you! I hate you for this. I hate you for all of this. You think you’re saving me?
Knight in shining armor?
Well, I don’t want to be saved. It doesn’t make you special and it doesn’t make me love you. I don’t want you to save me and get some fucking tattoo of my name on your chest. Don’t you understand that?” Her voice climbed in volume, to a hysterical scream. “Is that clear enough for you? You can take your fucking book of train schedules and—”

A shrill wail and the cry of an infant pierced the silence with the echoes of her tirade still bouncing off the walls.

Caressa broke off and ran. She heard Denise call after her but she only ran faster. She could hear the baby wailing still, and she ran like wolves were at her heels. He would come after her and she couldn’t bear that. She would fight him if she had to, to keep him away. Train schedules, God.

She sobbed all the way up the elevator and down the hall to the suite,
then
realized she didn’t have a key. She slumped against the door and buried her face in her hands. Denise came shortly afterward and hugged her until
Caressa’s
chest started to ache from the sheer weight of her tears.

* * * * *

Kyle sat at the bar, staring down at the bubbles in his seltzer water. God, he needed a real drink.
A stiff one.
But he couldn’t do that now. That would be pointless, complete destruction. There had been enough destruction tonight.

He didn’t know why he’d decided to give her the book of train schedules.
Spite?
Love?
Desperation?
It had been one of their first real conversations, when she’d told him about
Moeran
and the train schedules, one of the first times she’d really opened up to him. But too late, he remembered that conversation ending the same way.
Furious shrieks and screaming.

“I hoped I wouldn’t find you here.”

He turned at the deep familiar voice, hushed now in the nearly-deserted hotel barroom. “Don’t worry. I’m not drinking.
Yet.”

Jeremy sat beside him, signaling the waiter to bring him the same thing Kyle had.

“How’s Rhiannon?”

“She’s fine. Nell got her calmed down pretty quickly. Poor thing was tired anyway.”

The waiter brought the drink and Jeremy asked for lemon in passable French. The lemon was dispatched to the table and Jeremy squeezed it into his glass before he looked back at Kyle.

“These books.
Always getting us men in trouble.
You couldn’t buy her something else?
Flowers or something?”

Kyle frowned. “I wasn’t trying to make trouble. I was trying to get through to her. I was trying to send her a message.”

“Well,” Jeremy said with a sigh. “From what I saw, she got your message. She just didn’t like it very much.”

Kyle looked over at Jeremy’s drink. Jeremy hated seltzer. He was only drinking it because of him. Those were the kinds of things friends did for each other, to protect one another. Not wrapping up books of train schedules to make a point.

“She was right. I’ve pushed her and pushed her. She’s right to be angry.”

“Pushed her?” Jeremy fiddled with a stack of coasters. “You should have just stepped up the beatings a tad.”

Kyle laughed. “That’s your answer for everything.”

“I know. But it works.”

Kyle looked back at the bubbles in his glass, swirling them around with a fingertip. “So what do I do now?”

“You’re asking me? I’m the fuck up. You’re the one with a steady head on his shoulders.”

“You’re the one in a healthy relationship with a wonderful woman and a beautiful baby.”

“Love prevails.”

“Love only prevailed for you because I interfered.
On several occasions.”

“I’ve been trying to return the favor.”

Kyle fell silent at his words. It was true that Jeremy had helped him numerous times, but in this instance… He gave Jeremy a desperate look.

“You’re the famous one. Can’t you give me any insight into what she’s feeling? Why she plays when she’s so unhappy?”

Jeremy thought for a while. “I’m not sure I can give you any insight. I mean, she’s not famous like I’m famous. I act for petty reasons.
For attention and the fawning fans.
I act because I’m an egotistical jackass. I assume she doesn’t play for same reasons?”

Kyle didn’t even have to think about it. “No. Music is like a vocation to her.
An almost…religious experience.”

“Hm.
See, matters of faith and religion can be very personal.
And very mysterious.
I think you may have to face the fact that you may never understand.”

You don't understand. You don't understand.
Kyle’s mouth curved into a rueful grin. Jeremy was a jackass, but he could find insight at the most unexpected moments.

“You know, Kyle, there are a lot of things people do that I don’t understand. But that doesn’t mean I have a right to make them do things differently. That’s something I’ve learned in my advancing years.”

“You’re turning into a regular sage.”

“Thank you. Are you feeling any better?”

“A little.
I’m going to go up soon. You don’t have to sit down here with me. I’m not even tempted to take a drink.”

“I’m glad to hear it.
Oh,
and…thank you for letting go of Nell. She worried about you for so long. I think it was nice for her to see today that you really are over her.”

“What all have you told her?”

“Not everything. Not much. I kept your secrets. I didn’t tell her about the tattoo, because that was just creepy,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But she’s a sensitive woman. I think she knew a lot that she never talked about. More than either of us will probably ever know.”

Kyle saw a cell phone come out at a table nearby, watched the furtive clicking of the camera. From old habit he subtly angled himself to block Jeremy from the personal intrusion. Jeremy noticed and gave a resigned smile. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.
Part of the job.
Anyway, we’re back to Boston tomorrow. But if you need anything…”

“Thanks, Jeremy. You know, thank you for everything.
Really.”
Everything.
His job.
His sobriety.
Even Caressa in a way.
Jeremy had taken a country boy from Spur and brought him over a circuitous route to this five-star Paris hotel, and sat with him as he drowned his sorrows in a glass of seltzer water.

“You’re welcome,” Jeremy said with an easy smile. “And you want my best opinion? Give her some space and let her think about things.”

Kyle knew it was wise advice, but it would be really hard for him to do.

Chapter Thirteen:

In Concert

Caressa woke up in her aunt’s bed, where she’d cried herself to sleep the night before. Her aunt wasn’t there though. Caressa could hear the shower going. Damn the fucking hotel suite. She didn’t want to go out in the main room in case she ran into him, but she felt sick and hungry, and all her stuff was in her room. She went in Denise’s bathroom to pee.
God, all that champagne.
She’d slept fitfully and she felt like crap. She rubbed a spot off the steamed-up mirror to find she had bags under her red, swollen eyes.
Happy twenty-first birthday.
She didn’t look a day over eighty-two.

She went back out and lay on the bed to wait for Denise to finish in the shower. Her aunt came out a few moments later, toweling off her hair. She smiled at Caressa.

“How did you sleep?”

“Terribly.”

Caressa turned away as her aunt started to dress. Aunt Denise was only in her mid-forties, but she too looked older than she really was. Caressa never really considered all her aunt might have given up to support her music career.
A husband?
Kids?
A life out in the suburbs?
The idea depressed her. Caressa picked at one of her toenails and thought about how bad she had to shave her legs.

“So what are you going to do today?”

She looked back up at her aunt, considering her open-ended question. Did she mean it in a general, “what’s-your-schedule” kind of way, or was she talking about…

Ugh. The way she’d left the party. She was going to have to face Kyle eventually. Aunt Denise came to sit beside her on the bed.

“He would probably like a chance to talk to you, honey. I know he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He planned that big party for you—”

“So what?” she said in surly voice. “I don’t know why you don’t just let him go now. Why are we still paying him? The tour’s almost over.”

“He’s helpful to have along. He does a million little things for you that you probably don’t even realize.”

Caressa snorted and glared over at her. “Why are you taking his side now? I thought you didn’t like him.”

“There are no sides here. I just think we should hold onto him until we finish out the tour. It’s just a couple more weeks, Caressa. Do you really begrudge him the money?”

“I don’t care about the money.” Caressa propped her head on her knee. “It’s just…
he
kind of… I don’t know. I don’t need him anymore. I really don’t. I realized that last night. It’s like I’m putting myself through this drama and trauma that I don’t really need. I wish you would just fire him.
This morning.”

Aunt Denise looked at her a long moment, then shrugged. “I think that’s a little harsh, but you’re the boss. But he’s
your
employee, so if you want to fire him, you do it. Don’t put it on me.” Then she got up and went out into the other room before Caressa could think of a suitable retort.

Well, fine. She would do it then. It had to be done or she’d never survive until Rome. She opened the door and stalked through the main room to her bedroom. He was sitting there, waiting silently on the couch. Damn him. She threw on some clothes, trying to ignore the mess she’d already made of her luggage.
He does a million little things for you that you probably don’t even realize.
Kyle always cleaned up her messes, but she was pretty sure she could do it herself. She had done everything herself before he came along and started in with his kisses and caresses.
His orders and stern, scary looks.
Those fingers.

She opened the door before she could psych herself out of it. “Can you come in here, Kyle? I have to talk to you.”

She didn’t need him. She didn’t need the sex and the control. She didn’t need the disapproval, goddamn it. He walked into the room in his jeans and tee shirt and stopped just inside the door. She couldn’t even face him. She looked out the window, trying to think how to begin, but he spoke first.