No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1) (30 page)

I do believe she just implied I’m a snitch. You can call me a lot of things but a snitch isn’t one. “I’ve heard a bit of the album, and it’s rather good,” I lie, sort of. I did hear him working on one song. It could have been for the album. “And I most certainly did not call anyone. You see, my little website is doing quite well on its own,” I say in my most charming tone while a take a big slug of wine.

She looks vapid. “That’s great Aaron. You’ve let your new piece hear it, but you wouldn’t share with your daughter?”

“Excuse me,” I reply as I stand up, grabbing my clutch. As my mother always says,
lying just brings more trouble.
“I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

Aaron grabs my hand to stop me, but doesn’t take his eyes away from Grace. “Don’t leave on my sister’s account.”

I smile and once again use my easygoing voice. “No. No. Just need to step out.”

He lets my hand go, but drags his middle finger up my palm, sending shivers down my spine.

Bolting for the restroom, I text Bella.

Me:
So help me God, might have to knife a bitch.

She replies instantly.

Bella:
Who? What? I’ve got your back. I’ll be your alibi.

Me:
Aaron’s sister is something else. I just needed to vent.

Bella:
Can’t wait to hear all about it on Sunday.

I take my time freshening up my lipstick and fluffing my hair. I’m hoping back at the table the subject has been changed. I shouldn’t have lied. I stooped to Grace’s level, and I’m better than that. But did she really just insinuate that I notified the press Aaron and I were dining here to promote NoPinkCaddy? Really? I didn’t pose with Aaron for any photos. I was inside while he was talking to the media.
Oh God. This is part of the eighteen-wheeler full of baggage Aaron is hauling.

Realizing that when I made the reservation I used Johnny’s name, I feel sick. This was my fault. An employee probably tipped off the media so the restaurant would get the publicity. I lean against a wall for support. I’m so stupid. Grace was right. The paparazzi were my fault, just not for the reasons she implied. I have to tell Aaron.

Fortunately, when I return, some of the food has arrived and Aaron has had my glass refilled. Grace has switched places with a guy two seats down so at least I don’t have to look at her while I eat. The guy and Aaron are speaking English, but they’re using vocabulary I’ve never heard. I think they’re discussing something to do with sound. I don’t want to interrupt their conversation so I decide to make my confession later tonight.

On the table in front of my chair is a plate of shrimp and grits. It’s most likely the richest entrée on the menu. This restaurant makes their grits with heavy cream. I should have asked before I blindly went with Aaron’s choice. We clearly have very different diets.

Sliding into my seat, I smile as Aaron grabs my hand under the table. His finger strokes my palm again. It’s such a simple gesture, but about the most reassuring thing he could do.

Sam and Billy seem to be engaged in a deep conversation next to me, and I wonder if they’re dating or married. They seem overly familiar with each other. Once again, I wish I’d read more on the band, but I come up with a theory anyway. Sam and Billy are star-crossed lovers. When the band is together, they’re a couple. When the band is on a hiatus, Sam and Billy go their separate ways. It’s how they keep their relationship fresh.

Picking up my fork with my left hand, I decide I’d rather try to eat off-balance than break our connection.

No one talks to me for most of dinner, which is just fine. I eat what I can and push my food around my plate, hoping it’s not obvious.

I have a third glass of wine and am feeling a bit tipsy. Not wanting to make a poor choice because of alcohol, I force myself to eat more. My stomach feels rumbly, and I pray the rich food doesn’t upset me. How embarrassing. Fortunately, I catch the waiter’s attention and ask for some French bread. He’s more than happy to oblige.

As she drops her napkin on the table, Sam yells, “Alright, gang, where are we going next? Bourbon? Seedy strip club?”

Aaron looks in my direction. I’m not suggesting any place. If it were up to me, I’d take a cab home and let Aaron hang with his sister for the rest of the night.

“MK, this is your city,” a really young guy prompts. He’s super cute. Maybe twenty-one . . . maybe not. He looks sort of like Shaggy from the
Scooby Doo
cartoons.

Everyone chants, “M . . . K.”

Aaron glances my way with pride in his eyes, and he mouths
MK
.

I laugh. “Okay. You want bar, nightclub, what?”

“What about Eddy’s?” Aaron suggests.

I shake my head. “No. Eddy’s isn’t big enough.”

“Karaoke?” I propose.

They all scream no and shake their heads. Apparently, a famous musician singing karaoke in a club in New Orleans would gain too much attention. Who knew?

Grace says, “But seriously. Maybe that’s a good way to show the world that Johnny is still Johnny.”

The room goes quiet before Sam responds, “But is he?”

All eyes swing to Aaron. Even I turn to look at him. Dropping my hand, he stands up, pushing his chair back. It falls to the ground with a thud. “Fuck you all,” he responds, holding up his middle fingers and turning to ensure that everyone sees exactly what he’s doing. “I fucking made this band. If I hadn’t busted my ass and clawed and fought for us, there would be no ACE, and you assholes would be flipping burgers at McDonald’s. Show some fucking respect.”

Bella’s comment about Aaron having a dark side slaps me across the face. His behavior towards his band is egotistical. I’m witnessing a new side of his personality and I have to say, I don’t like it very much.

As he turns to storm out of the room, the molecules of air shift around him. It’s like they concede to his magnetism and get out of his way. The door slams with a thud behind him.

All eyes in the room shift to me. I roll my fingers over the linen napkin in my lap, wondering what I should do. Our relationship is so new. Do I go after him and make sure that he’s okay? Do I let him stew?
God, now it’s been too long, I guess I’m going to sit here and hope someone suggests something.

As if nothing happened, Sam says, “Let’s go watch live music but not at a pretentious club.”

What?

Billy adds, “Good idea. I haven’t heard good live music in a long time.”

They ignore Aaron’s departure.

“MK, can you suggest a place?” Sam asks.

My eyes cut to Grace. I’m hoping she has some direction for me.

Her face is stoic and offers me no support.

As I forgo the napkin for my cuticle, I reply, “I know a place and we can walk.”

Grace says, “Or drive, unless it’s next door. Johnny will be mobbed.”

This is bizarre. There’s no Johnny. He’s disappeared.

Grace pays the tab as the room breaks into small talk. I can’t take it any longer. Sam has been kind to me. Shifting in my chair, I ask, “Should I be concerned about Aaron?”

Her forehead wrinkles. “You mean about his temper tantrum?”

“Well, yeah,” I reply. “Should I’ve gone after him?”

Sam laughs and says, “That’s Johnny. We get reminded about all he’s done for us a couple of times a month. Bet ya a hundred bucks he’s bought a pack of cigs and is smoking in the alley.”

“Smoking?” Now it’s my turn to crinkle my forehead.

“When he’s mad or frustrated or fucked up,” Sam says this as if it’s no big deal. This is a great reminder that I still have so much to learn about the man called Johnny Knite.

When we exit the restaurant, there’s still no sign of him. After giving the address to Grace, who shares it with the drivers, Sam grabs my arm, pulling me into an SUV with her, Billy, and Shaggy whose real name is Malcom.

“What about Aaron?” I ask Sam.

She gives a dismissive gesture. “Grace’ll take care of him.”

Reluctantly, I buckle my seatbelt and hope I’m making the right decision. As we pull away from the curb, I see Aaron’s red car being brought to the valet stand, but I don’t see him, just Grace speaking with the manager of the restaurant.

I have a sick feeling in my gut that everything is not okay.

When we arrive at the club, I decide that I should take a cab back to the restaurant and look for him.

As we climb out of the SUV, I grab Sam’s arm. “Sam, I’m going back to the restaurant to look for Aaron. I’m very concerned about him.”

“Don’t, honey,” she says, taking my hand. “He’s a big boy. He’s fine.”

I listen to her instead of my own instincts.

The club is dark, but floor lighting and blue rope LEDs around the ceiling give it a nice atmosphere. This place has been in business for years. The owner is a friend of a friend. He bought it from the original owner two years ago. He’s local and deep in the New Orleans music scene. The bands who play here are top notch, and the club is known for being safe.

Grace must have called ahead because we’re ushered to a VIP area, which is a balcony overlooking the stage. Billy hangs back for Sam, and Malcom and I are joined by the guy with more ink than not. His name is Frank. Frank plays the violin, upright bass, banjo and backup guitar. He’s really a polite guy. He takes my elbow and helps me up the steep stairs.

A very large man who looks as if he’s made out of chunks of concrete sits with a tiny black-haired woman. They were both very quiet at dinner. He taps the barstool next to him, and I walk over to join them. Looking back over my shoulder, there’s no sign of Aaron, or Grace for that matter.

The woman is named Cara and the guy is the drummer. He says that I should call him Rock. It’s an appropriate name.

After we’ve ordered drinks, Rock asks, “How’s Aaron really doing?”

Smiling, I cringe a bit inside. “I didn’t know him before rehab so I can’t really say. He seems happy—well, except for his blow-up at dinner.”

Cara hits his arm, and I’m surprised she doesn’t grab her fist in pain. “It’s been a rough couple of years for him. He needs someone with the patience to love him.”

I don’t know how to respond so I just nod. Thankfully, Cara changes the subject and asks me about my blog. Apparently, Aaron shared my site with the band and their significant others. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I tell her about quitting my job and how I’m now focusing on it full-time. I also mention my new life mantra,
alis volat propriis.

“What does it mean?” she yells in my ear over the band.

“Basically it’s ‘with her own wings she flies.’”

“Love it. You should get that inked. I’m a tattoo artist.”

Before I know it, she has a bar napkin in front of her and a pen from her bag. She sketches me the most beautiful and simple art. “Down your ribs.” She demonstrates, beginning about the middle of my breast to the indention of my waist.

“Thank you.” I lean over, giving her a hug and dropping her art in my purse. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

“I’m based in Austin. Johnny has my info. I’ve done all of his.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Grace walking over to where Sam and Billy are sitting. “Excuse me.” I give Cara one more hug and nod to Rock.

As I’m walking over to Grace to check how Aaron is, I see him walking up the stairs.

Turning, I reach him as he climbs the last step. “You ready?” he asks. He smells like cigarette smoke, and his eyes have deep lines spidering from them. His black shirt has three buttons undone, revealing a bit of his heart tattoo. He’s agitated. I can almost see his body vibrating.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss his pec through his shirt. He feels as if he’s made of marble and doesn’t respond.

“I’m worried about you. You okay?” I ask as I push the hair out of his eyes.

“We’re leaving. You’ve spent enough time with my band,” he sneers.

I step back and decide to not make a scene. But in a very clipped tone, I reply, “I’m more than ready.”

He turns to walk back down the stairs.

“Wait. We need to tell everyone goodbye.”

“Fuck ’em.”

Suzanne Long
@ JohnnyKniteIsMine

Found these pictures of
RealJohnnyKnite
arriving at a restaurant. Doesn’t seem
NoPinkCaddy
was there. #HateNoPinkCaddy

Rock Star Groupies
@RockStarGroupies

Looks like
NoPinkCaddy
is a thing of the past.
RealJohnnyKnite
photographed alone. #PrayersAnswered

“What about your car?” I ask as he helps me into one of the SUVs.

“Grace had Seamus pick it up.”

“How many people do you have working for you? It’s like they keep coming out of the woodwork. I thought Seamus was gone now that Grace is back.”

He dismissively says, like it’s very common to have all these people around you, “I liked the kid so I hired him to do some of the things Grace doesn’t want to, like drive my cars.”

I drop it. Why do I care?

Aaron stares out the window, turned away from me. The car barely moves. Even when it’s not festival season, the Quarter is still packed on a Friday night. Drunk people walk by, slapping the car and yelling at us. The windows are blacked out so they can’t see inside, but I still feel like a Lion Fish in the aquarium.

Aaron’s brooding, and I don’t know what to do so I ask, “Want to talk about it?”

“Do I look like I want to talk about it?” he snaps without turning to face me.

“Look, Aaron, you’re being a jerk and I’m just trying to help.” Turning, I watch the faces of the people walking by the car. Most are happy and carefree. They’re either high on alcohol or life. It doesn’t matter. We’re surrounded by jubilance in a car that is filled with anything but.

“My place?” he asks after we finally make it through the crowded street.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re angry and being short with me. I would prefer to go back to mine—alone.”

“You’re pissed at me?” he’s incredulous, turning in his seat.

“Yeah,” I reply as I face away from the window and towards him. “You stormed off, throwing your little snit fit, and left me in a room full of people I didn’t know, one of them being your sister who’s anything but pleasant to me.”