Love Songs for the Road (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Crane House

A door swung open and slammed. Ryan woke with a start just as Miles climbed up on the bed.

“Miles,” she said, pulling the sheet up to her neck. “You scared me.” She glanced at the clock. It was six fifteen.

“You’re in Daddy’s bed,” Miles casually observed.

Ryan’s T-shirt and underwear were within arm’s reach, thank God, and as Miles, who’d quickly lost interest in her, padded around the room, she scrambled into them. After the concert, Ryan had gotten lost in the moment, and let Marcus talk her into staying the night in his room. How could it matter, he’d asked. The kids loved her and their budding relationship. Plus, she would only be their nanny for a few more days. Soon, they’d get to know her in a whole other context.

Still, Ryan wished they’d held off. For now, she was still Marcus’s employee, and being busted like this made her feel like a jerk.

“Do you know where your dad is, sweetie?” Ryan asked Miles, eyeing her jeans, slung over a chair near the door that she calculated she could reach in about 2.5 seconds. She made a mental note to add sprints to her training regimen.

Miles didn’t answer, distracted by an action figure he’d left on the couch—Ryan remembered it digging into her back as Marcus, ever the adventurous one, had made those comfy pillows the first destination of their around-the-room romp, post-Superdome—so she made the dash while the boy was no longer staring into her eyes, but into those of Spiderman.

“Good morning!” A fully-dressed Marcus bounded into the room as if the sun had been up for hours, rather than minutes. “Couldn’t sleep. Got us a couple lattés downstairs.”

Ryan scooped her butt into her jeans just as Miles turned and stared at her.
Great, now both Troy men have seen me in my underwear this morning.

“I don’t
want
a latté,” Miles said.

Marcus put the tray on the coffee table, and swept his son up in his arms, cradling him upside down and blowing kisses on his bare stomach as Miles arched his back and cackled. “That’s why I got OJ, toast, croissants, eggs, fruit salad, and a few slabs of juicy bacon, just for you, buddy.”

“Wow, a real feast,” Ryan said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Marcus, come here for a sec, will you?”

“Good morning, my dear.” Marcus plopped next to her and kissed her on the cheek. Ryan was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, while Marcus looked like he’d just swallowed a fistful of happy pills. She couldn’t help but smile, but still…

“Marcus, Miles woke me up. He saw…well, pretty much everything. I wish I hadn’t stayed over.”

“And I’m glad you did.”

“Are you sure? It just feels irresponsible.”

“Why? Because you’re their nanny?” He pulled off his shoes and tossed them on the ground. “Well, the tour’s over. Why don’t I just fire you, and then we can do whatever we want?”

Ryan laughed. “Nice try. But you need cause for that. In forty-eight hours, we’ll be back in Bigfork. I’m their nanny till then.”

“That’s right. Just two days until you go your way and I go mine.”

That took Ryan by surprise. “Is that…the way you want it?”

“Of course not.” He pushed her hair back behind her ear. “Which is something I’ve wanted to talk to you about. Are you
sure
about this Michigan thing?”

Marcus was always moving too fast for her. But she was starting to get used to it.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Do you have any idea how hard I worked to get in?”

“And you know the winters are rough out there, right?”

Ryan laughed. “You do realize I grew up in Montana, don’t you?”

“Out where?” Charlotte said, still in her PJs as she grabbed a piece of bacon from the coffee table.

“Michigan, sweetie,” said Marcus. “Where Ryan’s going to go get her PhD.”

“What’s PhD stand for?” asked Miles.

Marcus didn’t hesitate. “Permanent head damage.” Ryan and the kids laughed.

Ryan didn’t know whether this impromptu family meeting was the best place to get into all of this, but as usual, Marcus wasn’t giving her much of a choice. “So, anyway, I’ve chosen Michigan as the best place for me to go and get my head messed up, yes.”

Marcus walked over to his bedside table, picked up his tablet, and woke it up. “What do you think of this?” he asked, handing it to Ryan.

On the tablet’s screen she saw a slide show featuring something called the “Crane House,” a midcentury modernist home designed by a guy named Robert C. Metcalf. Surrounded by century-old trees on a grassy hillside, it looked contemporary but not cold, and was filled with beautiful furnishings.

“Marcus…” Ryan said.

“What? You don’t like midcentury? I’m a fan myself, but I’m easy, architecture-wise. What do you like?”

“What are you talking about?” she whispered. Miles was clueless, but Charlotte always had an ear trained on them; that was just how she was wired. “
Living together
?”

“Hey, relax,” he said. “I’m just talking about getting a place near you, so I can visit. I looked up Ann Arbor properties, and this place was one of the first listings that came up. It’s available, and reasonable. And best of all, it’s two minutes from campus.”

“But what about Bigfork?”

“I’ll live there, too, and have the kids there. But Kalispell to Detroit? It’s just a three-hour flight. A piece of cake.”

“You’re crazy. You’re actually going to buy this place?” Ryan had been trying to get used to the possibility of a long-distance thing, but if Marcus was going to have a house just around the corner from campus, it’d sure make it easier to be together. More importantly, it would mean, without a doubt, that he was for real about the two of them.

Marcus smiled broadly, as Charlotte nodded appreciatively at the tablet over Ryan’s shoulder. “I won’t crowd you, I promise,” he said. “I just want us to be able to, you know, continue what we started.”

Ryan flipped through the slides again. The Crane House was light and airy, comfortable but stylish—a dream home. It was hard not to get excited about the possibility of carving out a little study corner under that roof.

“Don’t you want that?”

“Are you kidding me?” Ryan said. “Of course I do. But…
buying a house.
”

“Hey, I told you it was reasonable, didn’t I? I’m just doing it because it’s a good investment.” He winked at her.

“Ha. Very funny.”

Okay, so it wasn’t
living together
, but somehow, Marcus’s suggestion seemed even more outrageously adult to her. What would her parents say if they found out one of the world’s most famous rock stars had bought a beautiful vacation home in Michigan, just so he could date her?

Marcus leaned in and nuzzled her. “What do you think?”

Ryan looked up at him and smiled. Would she ever find a man like this again in her life? There was just no way. He was so sweet and giving and…scrumptious from head to foot. His faults weren’t even faults—they were just the circumstances that came along with the great success he’d achieved.

“I love it,” she said, kissing him.

…

Minutes later, Marcus was reading a novel on his tablet, lazily delaying his shower so he could enjoy the morning for a few more precious minutes. It was almost eight. He had a full itinerary planned with Ryan and the kids—a walk through the Garden District, a little antiquing, lunch at Café Atchafalaya, then maybe a trek across town to Bayou St. John. Dinner at Mimi’s in the Marigny, or Booty’s in Bywater, and then,
sans enfants
, drinks and rice and beans at Vaughan’s. There were so many spots to visit, and so little time to fit them all in.

Ryan had already helped Charlotte and Miles get ready, and was now back in her room preparing to leave. Marcus knew he had to get it in gear himself. With a melodramatic sigh, he roused himself from the plush, comfy couch.

A knock on the door. “Come in, Serena,” he said. It was a 50/50 shot between Alex and her, so he figured he’d roll the dice.

Indeed, his assistant walked in the door. She frowned, an iPhone in her hand.

“Don’t tell me,” Marcus said. “You’ve got something you just
have
to show me.”

“I’m sorry, Marcus.” The poor thing looked miserable.

“Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s not
your
fault.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Marcus wasn’t worried. The hearing was over, and the lawyers were already drafting a new custody agreement. The judge wasn’t going to reconsider her carefully rendered decision because of a power-ballad and a kiss. “Which blog is it? I’ll put it up here.”

“
The New York Post.
”

“Awesome.”
The Post
had always had it out for Marcus. He typed the URL into his browser. “Okay, then, what am I looking at?”

“It should be right there, above the fold,” Serena said, leaning over him on the couch and pointing.

At first, Marcus was distracted by “Syrian Rebels Sorry for Beheading Wrong Guy” and “Woman Trades Wedding Ring for Lakers Tickets,” but then he found it: “Meow! Troy Nanny Scratches Her Way to the Top!” The photograph, from the Superdome, showed an irritated-looking Ryan seeming to scowl right at the camera while Marcus, his back to the audience, serenaded her on one knee. Had the photographer simply caught an awkward expression, or had Ryan maybe
not
enjoyed her appearance last night as much as he had?

Marcus read:

Two months ago, no one in America had heard of small-town beauty Ryan Evans, including her employer, rock icon Marcus Troy. But in a few short weeks, the no-name nanny has changed her fortunes by carving herself a place into the heart of the musician, who many friends say is trusting to a fault.

“Ryan’s clever, I’ll give her that much,” said up-and-comer Jacey Richards, the opener on Troy’s summer tour. “She’s sweet as pie around Marcus, and has those kids of his wrapped around her little finger. But when he turns his back, the nails come out.”

Richards went on to describe more than one incident in which the innocent-seeming nanny was quite decidedly the aggressor. “The first night I met her, Ryan threatened to attack me in the hotel room we were sharing. She was this close to hitting me over the head with a table lamp.”

Later, Richards claims, “It was obvious Ryan was gunning for Marcus, a musical career of her own, or both. She said I was the opening act for a reason, and that I’d always be the opening act. She was going to become the headliner, though—in her words, ‘the main attraction.’ It’s unbelievable how calculating this girl is.”

But Jacey Richards isn’t the only casualty of Evans’ manipulations. “She stole my kids from me,” says Bianca Troy, Marcus’s ex and the mother of the two children they share. “I don’t know who she had to sleep with—besides my husband—to make this happen, but the judge at our custody hearing this week decided my children should be spending more time with this complete stranger than with their own mother.”

Ms. Troy, who plans to appeal the judge’s decision, said that during a ninety-minute limousine ride the two shared together in Southern California last month, “Ryan refused to speak to me, and gave me the stink-eye the entire time. She pretends to be shy, quiet, and sweet, but she’s always plotting and manipulating. How else could she have gotten to where she is now?”

Evans has had brushes with the press, too. Reporter Benjamin Little says that “Ryan got physical with myself and a photographer at one of Marcus’s concerts. It came out of nowhere, really.” No one got hurt, but, says Little, “with her, the threat of violence is always just under the surface.”

“Wow,” Marcus said. “Jacey couldn’t have timed it better. She waited until the tour was over so I couldn’t fire her.”

“Looks that way,” said Serena.

“What room is she in?”

“She checked out this morning.”

Marcus stood, massaging his temples, trying to stay calm and figure out what his next step would be. “I need to go to Ryan’s room, talk to her before she sees this. The kids are ready to go—can you get them on the bus so Ryan and I can have a few minutes alone? This isn’t going to be easy for her.”

“Sure thing.”

Marcus had spent a lot of time over the last decade weighing the pros and cons of his profession, but the negatives seemed to be stacking higher and higher lately. Could he do this anymore, balance the demands of his music with his personal life? He couldn’t imagine not being a musician anymore, giving up on the dream he’d had since before he could remember. As he walked the short distance from the suite to Ryan’s room, he wondered whether he simply wasn’t supposed to be in a personal relationship, ever. Maybe that was the price he had to pay.

Every woman he’d become serious about since becoming successful as a musician had run screaming from the chaos that his career created. Marcus had a lot of love to give, he knew, and could be a great partner if given the chance. But he knew that nobody got
everything
they wanted. He wanted Ryan, badly, but he feared she might make a hasty exit herself, unless he was able to persuade her otherwise.

Chapter Twenty-Six

God Closes One Door…

Ryan sat on the edge of Marcus’s bed, the tablet on her lap. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. Worse, she couldn’t believe that, after being burned once, she’d allowed this to happen a second time.

“Marcus, you said everything was going to be fine from now on.”

He kneeled in front of her and took her hand. “It is, don’t worry. The worst is behind us.”

“Behind us? They’re making me out to be a monster.”

“I know, but the hearing’s over, and the tour’s over, too. The court knew all this tabloid stuff was just a bunch of bull. They can’t come after me or the kids anymore.”

Ryan stood up and waved his hand away. “Are you really that selfish? Don’t you care about what this does to me?”

“What do you mean? This article will blow over.” He stood, too, then offered his hand again, but she wouldn’t take it. “What do
you
have to lose?”

“I’m entering a graduate program in child development. I’ll be doing field work—that means being in the same room with kids, interviewing them, studying them. If you were a teacher or a parent, would you let your kid in the same room with the girl in this article? I mean, ‘the threat of violence is just under the surface.’ I wouldn’t be surprised if I get a call from U of M’s admissions department about this. I could be a danger to the school.”

“
You’re overreacting. Really. This will pass in a couple days.”

“Not for me. Any time somebody Googles me, this is the first thing they’re going to see.”

“Ryan, you have to be able to look beyond that. People read all kinds of lies about me when they look
me
up, but I’ve learned not to let it bother me.”

“Only because you don’t have a choice. And because you get to enjoy all the good things about being famous, too.”

“I guess.” Marcus looked as innocent and clueless as Miles. But he had to see how unbearable it was to be in the orbit of his fame.

“Come on, you get to do what you love,” Ryan said. “And you can’t live without playing to thousands of people every night, or having strangers adore you. At least admit that.”

Now Marcus was pacing the room. “So, what are you asking me to do, stop playing music? Give up everything I’ve worked for just so I can pursue a relationship? You’re talking about my life’s work here.”

“Well, I may not be old enough to talk about my ‘life’s work’ yet, but I’ve worked hard to get where I’m going, too.”

“Please don’t make comparisons. You can still do anything you want. You can change—I can’t. Even if I never made another record or played another concert in my life, I’m a household name. Wherever I go, I’ll be Marcus Troy.”

“Exactly, and can’t you see how impossible that makes it for me to be with you? For anyone to be with you?”

“Again, there’s no need to make comparisons. Let’s just stick with you and me, here.”

He wasn’t trying to hold her hand anymore. He looked hurt, and angry. But did he have more of a right to be hurt than she did? He wasn’t the one who’d just gotten smeared across every corner of the Internet.

“It’s hard to stick with just you and me, Marcus, when there are so many other people always trying to get between us.”

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about that. And you knew exactly who I was
before
you started coming on to me.”

“Me, coming on to you? You were the one who hit on
me.
” Ryan couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Come on.” Marcus shook his head. “From the minute you drove up my driveway, you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”

“Only because you were half naked! And I ran out of there as fast as I could, because you were so obnoxious.”

“But you came right back, didn’t you? Why? Because you were attracted not to me, but to my celebrity, my fame, just like everybody else.”

“I came back because I needed the job, you jerk, and that was the only reason.” She was so mad, she wanted to scream. “You’re really impossible, you know that? You think the entire world revolves around you and your career. Maybe that’s why…” But Ryan stopped herself. This was one comparison she didn’t want to make.

“Go ahead, finish your thought. I’m the most self-centered person in the world, right? My personality’s too big, my celebrity is overwhelming, and it’s suffocating you.”

“Well, yes, sometimes it does feel that way. It’s suffocating me, and maybe it’s suffocating you, too.”

“Well, that’s how every woman in my life has felt, so why should you be any different? You love the ride, until you hit a couple bumps, and then it’s
adios.
”

“Marcus, who’s doing the comparing now? I’m not Bianca.”

“Well, you’re acting just like her—punishing me for circumstances that are way beyond my control. It’s crazy.”

“Don’t call me crazy.”

“I didn’t. I said—”

“I’m not crazy, and maybe Bianca wasn’t, either.” As soon as she said it, she wished she could have the words back. But it was too late.

“Well, she left me. And now it looks like you will, too. Maybe you’re more alike than I realized.”

“Marcus, I…I think I should quit.” She tried to walk past him, but he grabbed her forearm and held her.

His eyes flared angrily. “You can’t. I already fired you!”

Ryan glared at him. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Fine. I’d better be on my way, then.”

Marcus released his grip, and she was free of him. She brushed past him on her way out, and slammed the door behind her.

…

On the flight to Kalispell, Ryan, truly alone for the first time since the road trip had started, exhaled for what felt like the first time since June. She hadn’t spoken to Marcus again after storming out of his room. After a quick good-bye to the kids, during which she’d panicked and said only that she would “see them soon,” Ryan was finally free to go.

The chaos that had followed the
Post
piece had been extraordinary. The “rock star nanny,” as Ryan was now being called, was generating international attention. Though Ryan no longer spoke directly to any members of the press, not to mention the publisher or the two film executives who had asked for the rights to tell her story, she’d had to change her phone number and delete her social media accounts. She felt like she was going into hiding.

Ryan’s parents picked her up at the airport, and she surprised herself by bursting into tears at baggage claim. Her mother embraced her, and let her cry into her shoulder all the way home, while her dad drove in silence. Would Ryan ever be able to find a love like theirs, to make the kind of simple, trusting bond that had sustained her parents for decades? After Nick, after Marcus, it didn’t feel like she ever would.

“There, there, sweetie,” her mom said. “You’ve got a whole, happy lifetime ahead. Everything under the sun awaits you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Just remember, sweetie. ‘All good things…’”

Ryan hadn’t finished the sentence. She wasn’t feeling very patient at the moment. Burying her head in her mother’s shoulder, she cried harder than she had since she was a little girl.