Facing the Music (22 page)

“Well, I’ll start with congratulations,” he said at last.

Ivy frowned. She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. “Dare I ask what for?”

“For hitting number one on iTunes with your new single. Your live concert video already has over twenty million views on YouTube. Not bad for three days.”

Oh.
That
. Yeah, apparently this was her fastest-climbing single ever. She should be excited. Thrilled. And yet, she couldn’t work up the enthusiasm for it. That song was tainted. She would perform it when she had to, but that didn’t mean she would enjoy it. The song would haunt her, just like those images of Lydia half-naked.

“I find it kinda funny,” she said, “that I’ve made a career on songs about bad relationships and never had any trouble separating the song and the work from the dating drama. When I finally write a positive song about love and then break up, I’m overwhelmed with the emotions. I can’t even stand to hear it, much less sing it. And guess what? It may be my biggest hit ever!”

“Yes, and that’s why you’ve got to snap out of this funk, pronto. Your career is taking off in a whole new direction and you need to make the most of it. You’re not going to be able to float a career with your old, bitter songs anymore.”

Considering his words for a moment before speaking, he furrowed his brow. “You want to know why everything is different now?”

She shrugged.

“It’s because you didn’t care about any of those other guys. They were just tools you used to get in touch with your feelings for Blake again. The angst those guys caused was secondary. You needed it to help you relive the pain of betrayal and loss so you could write. None of those songs were really about John or Carey or Sterling. The lyrics might have sounded like they were, but the emotions behind every song were one hundred percent Blake.”

She eyeballed Malcolm, not quite sure how to respond to that. By his theory, she’d done nothing but moon over Blake for the past six years. She wasn’t saying it wasn’t true, but her life seemed so much more pathetic when he put it that way. “How much do you charge by the hour, Dr. Holt?”

“Only now,” he continued, ignoring her, “you can’t write those angry songs about him. You love him too much.”

“And I didn’t love him before? The first time?”

“Of course you did, but you were stunned by your first real heartbreak and you lost touch with everything but the pain. Now, your love is too recent and real, but so is your disappointment with how it ended. So of course you’ll be conflicted about that song. But you should embrace it. It’s a beautiful song.”

Ivy leaned back into the couch, tempted to reach for the remote to start her show again. This conversation wasn’t helping. Of course that song was painful. Conflicted didn’t quite touch it. “I just need some time. Eventually, I’ll get over him and the song won’t have such sharp edges anymore. I’ll date someone new. I’ll come up with some new songs.”

“Another pointless relationship that doesn’t get anywhere? How long are you going to keep dating men you’ll never commit to? It’s not fair to them. When are you going to admit to yourself that it never works out because you’re still in love with another man? I mean, you said it yourself—you’ve never stopped loving him
.
”

It was just like Malcolm to throw her own lyrics in her face. But he was wrong. She could get back on the metaphorical horse and things would be fine. With a new song, she’d be a hot commodity to be seen with. Finding a new guy wouldn’t be a problem. Looking at him and not seeing Blake . . . that was another matter.

Ivy got up from the couch and padded barefoot into the kitchen to get something to drink. A whole carton of Ben & Jerry’s would be better, but if she did that in front of Malcolm, he’d have her checked into a rest facility for emotional distress. “Do you want a bottle of water or something?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

Ivy reached into the refrigerator and pulled out one of her carbonated waters with citrus. “I just need to date you for a few months while I lick my wounds. That would keep the pressure off to start a real relationship. I can see you through your movie premiere. By the time all that is done, I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t need to waste time dating a gay man.”

Ivy slammed the door of the refrigerator and turned to him in irritation. “Last week
you
suggested we date!”

“Last week you hadn’t admitted to yourself that you were in love with Blake. You’re not going to use me to hide behind, sorry. You need to talk to him.”

“No way!” she shouted as she walked back into the living room. “You’re out of your damn mind!”

“No, I’m right and you know it. Despite everything, you still love him. There’s a part deep inside you that knows he was telling the truth about what happened with Lydia. It wasn’t what you thought it was.”

Ivy’s jaw tightened in irritation. “I could see her ass cheeks, Malcolm. That’s pretty hard to misinterpret.”

“Yes, but was he touching her?”

“Yes!” she said. They’d been over this once before.

“Where?”

She sighed and tried to think back to the unpleasant memory. The moment itself was a blur of lace panties and heartbreak. It look her a moment to conjure the exact placement of his hands in her mind. “He was touching her shoulders.”

Malcolm nodded thoughtfully. “That’s some sexy stuff. I know whenever I’m faced with a half-naked woman, I always go straight for the shoulders.”

Ivy frowned. Not the best example. “That’s because you’re terrified of lady parts.”

“Exactly! Blake, as you’re well aware, is not. He likes them. If he was interested in what Lydia was offering, I sincerely doubt he would’ve opted to put his hands on her
shoulders
.”

“He shouldn’t have had his hands on her
anything
! I don’t care if she was dancing around his office naked, throwing glitter.” Ivy’s brows drew together in irritation as she tried to rid herself of this pesky new image. “Why are you taking his side, anyway? You’re my friend.”

“I’m not taking his side. If he’s guilty, let him rot. But I just have to wonder, with the way things were going with you two, if you walked in on something else. You said Lydia was after him. Maybe she lured him there and put the full court press on him. It might not be the simplest explanation, but it could happen.”

“You’re grasping at straws. Aren’t I supposed to be the one doing that?”

“Yes, but you’ve got to admit that you have doubts about what you saw. You wouldn’t be so torn up over this whole thing if you didn’t. You’d be writing some song about lighting his balls on fire.”

A small smile curled Ivy’s lips. “I hardly think that would get airplay. But it might be therapeutic.”

“You need to let him know how you feel, Ivy.”

“He knows! The whole world knows. I got on that stage and announced to thousands of people that I loved Blake and always have. Even if he missed the song because Lydia’s tongue was in his ear, he has to have heard it by now. It’s all over the radio and the Internet. With as much money as we’ve already raised for the Rosewood Gymnasium Fund, someone has to be talking about it there. He hasn’t called or texted. He must not care.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. I think he knows he’s screwed up so badly that you might never give him another chance. He might be afraid to call you and tell you how he feels.”

“And how does he feel?”

Malcolm shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Ivy picked up the pillow beside her and threw it at him. “A lot of help you are!”

“But,” he argued, “I know how
you
feel. You’re miserable without him. You put your heart out there once; do it again. You’re going to be on
Late Night with Jimmy Jones
tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Her hiding away wouldn’t last much longer. Jimmy’s show was her first promotional performance. After that, she had
The Tonight Show
and MTV.

“Go on that talk show and sing that song the way you did before, like he’s listening. Pour your heart and soul into it and give him another chance to hear you the way he was meant to. I’m telling you, you’ll get a call within twenty-four hours.”

“And if he does, what do I do? How can I trust him, Malcolm?”

He scooted beside her, putting his arm around her shoulder to snuggle against her. Ivy rested her head on his chest, hovering on the verge of uncharacteristic tears. “When that phone rings, listen to what he’s got to say with an open mind and an open heart. Give him a chance,” he continued. “I want to see you happy, Ivy.”

She wanted to be happy. Having a taste of it with Blake convinced her that she did. But after everything that had happened, could he still be the one to bring her that happiness? She just didn’t know. She supposed she should do what Malcolm suggested.

Right or wrong, Ivy would find out one way or another.

Chapter Twenty-One

Blake was standing
on the arrivals curb at LAX the next afternoon, armed with nothing but determination and a small bag of clothes. But as he moved through the cab line, he realized he had missed a critical detail: he had no idea where Ivy lived. He didn’t think “somewhere in Malibu overlooking the ocean” would cut it.

He’d tried calling her parents, but they were both at work and neither was answering their phone. He could probably try to track down her manager’s information, but that could take a while. That meant he had to call her directly and hope she stayed on the phone long enough to give him the information.

Stepping out of the taxi queue, he went back into the airport and looked for a quiet place to call. He stared at his phone for a moment before he dialed her number. His palms were sweating like he was about to start in his first NFL game. “Man up, Chamberlain,” he said in his gruffest coach voice. It worked on his students and players; maybe it would work on him, too.

He hit the button to call her before he could stop himself. From there, he could only raise the phone to his ear and wait. It rang four or five times before someone picked up, but it wasn’t Ivy’s voice. It was a man’s voice.

“Hello?”

Blake stumbled over the unanticipated road block. “I uh, I think I might have the wrong number.”

“Blake?”

He stopped, a moment from disconnecting the call. “Yes,” he replied warily. “I was calling to speak to Ivy, please. Who’s this?”

“This is her friend Malcolm. Ivy is away from her phone right now. She’s actually in rehearsals for a talk show she’s taping in a couple of hours.”

Malcolm. Her “friend.” Just the sound of his name made Blake’s stomach start to ache with dread. He had ruined it. He’d driven her back into the arms of her ex with his stupidity.

“Do you want me to have her call you?”

“I don’t know. If you two are . . . uh . . . together, there isn’t much point.”

“Together?” Malcolm said with a hearty chuckle. “Did Ivy not tell you . . . ?” His voice trailed off. “Well, I guess she wouldn’t.”

The loud voice of the airport public announcement system cut into the conversation.

“Wait, Blake . . . are you in the airport?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?” Malcolm pressed.

“LAX,” he admitted with a sigh. What did it matter? He was about to try to get on a flight back home.

“This is going to be awesome!” Malcolm announced.

It didn’t seem awesome. “I think I’m missing something here. You two aren’t back together?”

“No,” Malcolm said. “Ivy isn’t exactly my type. I’m more into tall, dark, and handsome, if you catch my drift.”

“Ohhh,” Blake replied as his response fully sank in. “I didn’t realize that.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Good! It’s kind of a secret, but I’m letting you in on it since you’re practically part of the family now.”

Had he not spoken with Ivy about what happened in Rosewood? The drama? The naked woman? “I highly doubt that.”

“Then why are you in LA, Blake?”

“I’m here to get her back.”

Malcolm laughed low, the sound almost ominous over the phone. “I’ve got the perfect idea. You need to come to the studio in Burbank and surprise her on the show.”

“What?” That sounded like an incredibly bad idea, especially considering the event that broke them up. He was nervous enough about going to see her. Worried that she wouldn’t listen to what he had to say. He certainly didn’t relish the idea of it happening in front of a live studio audience. “I don’t think I want to be slapped on national television.”

Malcolm sighed. “She’s not going to slap you. Trust me on this—she loves you. She’s hurt, but she wants to believe she’s wrong about what she saw. Was she wrong about what she saw?”

“One hundred percent. The only reason I laid a finger on Lydia was to push her away. I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear. This is going to end well, I promise. Get a taxi to the Warner Brothers Studio in Burbank. I’ll get you on the list with security. Come to stage fifteen and call me on my cell phone.” Malcolm recited his number and Blake copied it down. “I’ll meet you outside.”

“So I’m just supposed to walk out onstage and surprise her? Tell her I love her?”

“Something like that. I’ve got to talk to the stage manager and get everything cleared with the crew so it’s only a surprise for Ivy. I’m sure they’ll be excited.”

“Malcolm . . .” Blake’s voice wavered with concern. “I need to ask you something.”

Malcolm hesitated before he answered. “Yes?”

“I wanted to ask her to marry me. I have a ring. Should I do it on the show or wait for later?”

“Hmm . . .” he said thoughtfully. “I think that depends on how Ivy reacts to all this. Play it by ear, have it on you. If you go out there and tell her you love her and she gets all teary and says she loves you too, go for it.”

“Okay.” It seemed like showboating, but if the only way to pin Ivy down was to confront her in front of a television audience of millions, so be it.

“Now get in that cab and get to Warner Brothers, quickly. The taping starts at five thirty and you’ve got the infamous Los Angeles traffic to fight.”

Ivy was nervous about
tonight’s performance. Maybe even more so than the first time in Rosewood. At least there, she felt like she was among family. Tonight, she was singing into a cold, lifeless camera lens and praying that the emotions would connect with Blake two thousand miles away.

But even worse was having to sit down with the host for a chat. This was her first interview since the release of her song. She had no doubt he would ask who it was about and pry into her sex life. She had made her sex life her business, so everyone felt free to make it their business as well. What was she going to say? That the relationship was already over? That the man she wrote the song about never even heard it?

Malcolm had told her to just smile and be coy about her new love. Her usual tactic was to neither confirm nor deny, and she should stick with that. “America doesn’t need to know a damn thing about your relationship with Blake,” he’d said. And he was right. She knew those pictures of her kissing Blake were likely to come up, but if she acted like things were fine, there wouldn’t be any reason for the host to pry into the dirty details of her breakup.

She had hoped Malcolm would be her support for the evening, but he’d run off while she was doing a sound check.

Ivy paced around the green room, ignoring the child star and his mother waiting their turn to go plug his new movie. They were watching the live feed of the show.

She glanced over at the craft services table, and the mere sight of the food made her stomach start to turn.

A stage assistant in a headset came in the door. “Miss Hudson? I’ll need you in staging in five minutes. Is there anything we can get you?”

“No, thank you,” she said with a curt shake of her head. She doubted there was anything the tiny girl with the clipboard could do to help her. Instead, she sat down and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

When the time came, she went out to staging. A few hair and makeup people encircled her and touched up the work they’d done earlier. The sound crew brought out her lapel microphone, getting her wired up with a battery pack. Last came the assistant with her guitar. She slipped it over her head and tried to shake out the tension in her shoulders.

“Stand by,” she was told.

“Please welcome Ivy Hudson!” she heard the host say. A roar of applause came from the crowd.

Ivy was ushered out onto the stage. She gave a wave to the crowd and the host as she took her mark in front of the band. The lead guitarist started the song and when her cue came, she started singing. This time, she focused on the camera. She tried to imagine Blake’s face instead of the lens and she sang as though he were standing right there.

When she was done, she winked into the camera and smiled as brightly as she could. The crowd cheered enthusiastically, although she wasn’t sure if it was because of her performance or the big light-up signs that said
APPLAUSE
overhead.

The host was seated on the far side of the stage behind his trademark desk. Ivy slipped out of her guitar and handed it off before taking a seat in the first red leather guest chair.

“Welcome, Ivy. We’re glad to have you come see us tonight and sing your new song.”

“Thanks for having me.”

“Now, let’s talk about this song. It’s a big departure from your usual sound. It’s a great tune, but it’s quite a bit more romantic than songs you’ve done in the past. What’s going on there?”

“It is a new sound, and I’m really excited to share my new album with my listeners. Relationships have their ups and downs. It’s true that most of my songs have focused on the downs, but I wanted to capture some of the good times, too. ‘I’ve Never Stopped Loving You’ is just the first of many great new songs inspired by my time back in my hometown.”

The host leaned in and cocked a curious eyebrow at her. “Time spent with a certain ex–football player, I hear. Blake Chamberlain, perhaps?”

Ivy tried not to flinch at the sound of his name. Instead, she smiled and nodded. “Have you been reading the gossip blogs, Jimmy?”

The talk show host hid behind his note cards with embarrassment. “Yes. It’s my dirty little secret. I can’t get enough of all the nasty details of people’s lives. So tell me, is this song about Blake Chamberlain?”

“Now, you know I never answer those questions,” she said in a chiding tone.

“Well, you know I’ve got to ask. I have to say, though, that if this new song
is
about Blake Chamberlain, it’s certainly a far cry from the last song he inspired.”

The crowd laughed. “I mean,” he continued, “every man in America felt bad for that guy when ‘Size Matters’ came out.”

“That is true,” she said, artfully dodging the question. “They’re very different songs that came from very different places in my life.”

The host tapped his cards on the desk and sat back in his chair. “Well, you know what I’ve always wanted to know? I’ve always wanted to know what Blake thought of all that. So you know what? Let’s bring him out here and find out!”

Ice water shot through Ivy’s veins. Every head in the audience, along with her own, turned toward the velvet curtains. A moment later, Blake came through looking more devastatingly handsome than ever before. He was wearing a navy suit with a light blue shirt beneath it that precisely matched his eyes. Eyes that were focused on nothing but her.

There was a smile on his face, but she could tell he was tense. She understood. Her own body was frozen, every muscle perfectly still to keep her from reacting to his arrival. The cameras were on her; they were waiting for her to react. Should she pretend she was happy and give him a hug and kiss? Ignore him? Give him a polite handshake when he sat down beside her?

She opted to stand and give him a hug like any other old friend she hadn’t seen in a while. Blake reached across the desk to shake the host’s hand, and then took a seat beside Ivy.

“So, the infamous Blake Chamberlain!” Jimmy began. “You look like quite a large man. You played college ball for Auburn and played in the NFL for the Texans before your knee injury. Not an average man in the slightest sense. I take it ‘Size Matters’ was just a metaphor?”

Blake laughed. “I’m not going to talk about the size of my anything on national television.”

Ivy smiled but tried to stay out of the discussion for now. She wasn’t quite sure how to react to all this. Had the talk show flown Blake out here? How would Kevin not tell her about this? This wasn’t one of those daytime shows where they spring your long-lost daddy on you.

“But we all saw the video, right? The one from a week or so ago where Ivy announced all sorts of positive things about your, uh, ‘package.’ Did that make up for some of the embarrassment brought on when the song came out? I mean, that had to be rough on your ego, even if you were packing a deadly weapon in your BVDs.”

Ivy held her breath and waited for Blake’s answer. If he just came on the talk show to publicly call her out for her man-bashing ways and embarrass her, this would be his opportunity.

“I actually prefer Fruit of the Loom,” Blake joked. “But seriously, there wasn’t any reason for Ivy to make up for
anything
. She wrote that song because I’d hurt her and took advantage of her love and trust. I deserved everything and anything she said about me back then.”

The host seemed surprised. This must not be the scandalous conversation he’d been hoping for when he’d brought Blake on the show. Ivy had a hard time disguising her surprise as well. She wished she knew what the hell was going on.

“Now, Blake, you just heard Ivy’s new song. What do you think about it?”

“I think it’s the best thing she’s ever written,” he said without the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Do you think she wrote this one about you, too?” the host pressed. “That naughty little minx will never admit what song is about what guy.”

At that, Blake smiled. “I don’t know if it’s about me or not. I think every red-blooded man in America would like to think that song is about him. Who wouldn’t want the love of a beautiful, talented woman like Ivy Hudson?”