Strung Out (Needles and Pins #1) (39 page)

He hadn’t wanted the ice cream as much as he had wanted her to give it to him. Her handing it over held a deeper meaning. It had demonstrated feelings between them left unsaid. Back then, she hadn’t hesitated—she’d even offered the slightly larger half.

Tonight, it seemed like the world stopped while he waited the few seconds for her answer. A response he felt would reveal everything about where they were right now in this crazy relationship.

“Yes.” Her gaze never wavered, and before she’d finished nodding, he ground his lips to hers in a kiss of gratitude, servitude, and passion.

The queue of texts continued to roll in after I unblocked my mother’s number. Now I questioned the sanity of doing so.

The twentieth anniversary of Tyler Conterra’s death had dawned a clear hot day in L.A. Gazing at the city in the distance, I wondered if a cloud of smog had hung over it the day my father had died. Not long ago, Gage had driven me by the modest house in the hills with a similar view where my father had resided and passed away.

“Who’s blowing up your phone?” Gage paused his playing and rested the guitar against his chest.

“I was going to call my mom. Today’s always been hard on her.”

He scowled but said nothing. I knew what he was thinking. Henni Smythe had been about to trash the idealistic image of her ex-lover for millions of his adoring fans. If the date was sentimental to her, she had a strange way of showing it. I knew though. I’d seen my mother do many unscrupulous things over the years in the name of money. These things were more often a con—not what she personally felt.

“Give me some warning if you call. I need to be far away.” Gage’s look inferred he needed the distance to keep from throwing my phone over the wall into the canyon if that happened.

“I guess this is your warning. I don’t want to be caught off-guard by her at the screening tonight.”

I was going to the documentary screening in several hours. Not that I wanted to. If I had to see it at all, I’d prefer to do so in private. And of course, a coming out in public was the last thing I had wanted. But publicity pictures with Willard Ackard, the producers, and other suits behind the film was in my part of the legal jargon that had ensured my mother was completely removed from any connection with the film. My mother’s invitation to the screening had even been revoked, to guarantee she didn’t show up in a press picture. Somehow, though, I didn’t think things would go off without a hitch. Although my mom had been paid, she had now been betrayed by her own daughter, and the woman seemed to relish public scenes.

Wasting no time, Gage carried his guitar, retreating into the house, and he didn’t look happy about it. I loved him a little bit more for that—for letting me do what I felt I needed to do despite his disagreement.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed speed dial.

“Scarlette! Honey! Finally! What in the flipping fuck is going on with you?”

“Me? I’m just trying to clean up your mess. What were you thinking?”

“Every word was true.”

“No. No it wasn’t!”

“Scarlette. Listen to me―”

“No. I don’t care what’s true and what isn’t. You don’t fuck with a man’s memory like that. And just forgetting about the public humiliation you were about to bring on our family—did you ever think about what you were doing to me? What would make you screw up your daughter’s already messed up image of a father she never had the privilege of knowing?”

“You’re an adult now. Act like one. You can’t think―”

“No. YOU act like one.” I brushed the back of my hand over my eyes. “Don’t try to be there tonight. There’ll be security on the lookout for you. And I’m going to have security around me. We won’t be talking there. In fact, I don’t know when we’ll be talking again.”

“Scarlette! Calm down. You need to―”

“If you’re worried about money, don’t be. You may be cold and greedy, but I’m not.”

“What are you saying?”

My mouth twitched, a quirk of a disappointed smile. A crazy smile because there was nothing amusing about this. It wasn’t surprising my mom had ignored an attack on her character. The upcoming fortune was front and center in Henni’s mind, even with the five figures she’d very recently been paid for her traitorous interview.

“That you’re my mother. I’ll make sure you have what you need.”

“This is Gage, isn’t it? And his father. That man still has a vendetta against me. You and I need to talk alone. Soon.”

“Before my birthday?” I felt my lips curve again in delirious amusement. “Okay. We’ll talk before my birthday.”

“Alone. Just you and me.”

Ignoring that, I lifted my face to the barest brush of a breeze and eyed the smog cloud. “Mom? Take care of yourself today. Okay?” My throat burned with emotion and the words were hoarse.

Jabbing my thumb at the screen, I hit ‘End Call.’

Twenty years ago today, the world had lost an icon. My mother had lost a man she loved. And I had lost a father I’d never remember.

“I thought you went in.” I murmured when a sound alerted me that I was no longer alone.

“You looked like you didn’t need to be alone.” Arms wrapped me from behind, and I fell back against Gage’s familiar frame, inhaling the scent that was him.

T
he dark limousine tint cast an unreal spell on everything beyond the windows. Music thumped through the speakers at a low volume. Gage and Colt kept up a steady conversation above the beat. My fingers clenched and unclenched in my lap until Gage took one of my hands, twining his fingers with mine.

“You okay?”

He spoke low, for my ears alone, but Colt heard and interceded.

“Of course she’s okay. She was born for this.”

Gage ignored the other man and continued his concerned perusal, but I curved a bright smile.

“Sure. I’m fine. Like he said, it’s in the blood, right?” I loosely referred to publicity. “…And step-blood.”

The moment he was back to conversing with Colt, I let my facial muscles relax. No. I wasn’t fine. A quarter of an hour from now, I’d no longer be Scarla Smythe. I would again be Scarlette Conterra.

A block ahead was the destination of the documentary premiere and party. Traffic had already slowed to a crawl.

The public’s fascination with me might last barely beyond tonight and the several promotional appearances I had contracted to. Or I might never know another day of obscurity.

Gage squeezed my hand. The car was crawling to another stop, falling into queue. Up ahead, the strobe of camera flashes accompanied a passenger alighting. The car pulled away, and another rolled into its place.

Colt had been playing limo bartender, but he’d ceased mixing drinks. After tipping a black bottle of wine directly to his lips, he held it toward us. Gage waved it away, but I snatched it and ignored their surprised eyes as I swallowed several swigs.

I had been wary when the plan of both Gage and Colt escorting me tonight had hatched between the three of us. So far, the two were on their best behavior. However, things would get interesting when I had one on either side of me.

The headlines tomorrow could very well be ‘Fire Flight’s Frontmen Brawl at Famed Musician’s Daughter’s Feet During Memorial Anniversary.’ Instead of ‘Scarlette Conterra Daughter of Tyler Conterra Resurfaces at His Memorial Anniversary.’

“Sirs and ma’am?” The intercom came alive when the driver apprised us we were nearing the head of the line.

Too soon, the limo door was opened. Gage gave me a nudge when I didn’t immediately move. Aware of my propensity to trip when nervous, I took an extra few seconds to balance my weight on the short heels of the metallic Myslides encasing my feet.

My first few steps were met with hesitant flashes and then the murmurs crescendoed into chaos when I was recognized. The strobes flashed so fast they almost blended into one blinding light. Standing straighter, I angled my chin higher.

Gage and Colt both hung a half step back. Up ahead, I was motioned to the left. Immediately, perfect gentlemen in synchronicity, they closed in, each holding one of my arms. I was grateful of the support when I looked ahead and got my first glimpse of the step and repeat backdrop.

Tyler Conterra’s larger than life face filled several identical film posters. Each was spaced out along a logo backdrop. A velvet rope separated the hyper crowd, and I blinked in the brightness of the lighting.

The guys again paused to let me go ahead. When I found myself positioned in front of one of the posters, my shaky legs steadied as if my father was sending me strength.

“Scarlette!” The yells came from everywhere. “Beautiful dress, Scarlette!” The bids for my attention continued, and I turned with a smile, basking in the honor of who I was to the faces in the crowd.

Colt squeezed my elbow as we came to the end of the walk, and Gage grabbed my hand. I dropped my eyes, lest a camera flash catch my churning emotions, and it took a moment for the afterimage caused by the flashes to fade.

To those yelling my name, I was a link to an icon of their past. An afterimage. Gage’s thumb subtly caressed my palm, and I squeezed his hand tighter. To him, this man from my past, I was a present. Together, we would embrace whatever the future brought.

We were the lucky ones.

Lucky in love.

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Scarlette and Gage know they can’t hide their relationship from public eyes forever, but it should be easy enough to fly under the radar while they are separated by Gage’s rehab stay.

Or not…

When a viral sex video outs them as lovers, their very new and now long distance relationship is tested.

Chapter Scarlette

I could have been any rock star’s kid. My mom dated dozens of famous musicians over a decade and a half, and I use the word dating very loosely. Any one of them could’ve been the one.

But I hit the rock star daddy lottery.

That’s what people are acting like anyway. It’s sickening.

I’m Scarlette Conterra daughter of Tyler Conterra, rock icon who fatally overdosed three weeks shy of joining the twenty-seven club. His millions multiplied into billions over twenty years, and I’m days away from reaching trust fund age.

I’m not going to lie and say it won’t give me a thrill never again to worry about paying my bills. Being offered my own onyx charge plate and invited into elite social sites is also a strange kick. But I’d give it all up and go back to bartending my way through college to have one real memory of my dad—one little clip in my head or fuzzy image that I know for certain is not part of a YouTube video or a Google Image.

I can’t imagine anyone will believe that. But it’s true.

Achy eyes and blurred vision kept me from continuing. My thumb rested on the keypad of my phone while I squinted the almost tears away and read what I’d typed.

What the hell?

I was supposed to be writing a two-hundred-word essay on ‘The Biggest Misconception About You.’ It was one of five such questions on the application to my dream college of naturalistic medicine.

This rambling monologue, although very true, was unacceptable.

Extremely personal.

Bringing up a new screen, I watched the icon blink and thought back to a couple of months ago. What was the biggest misconception about Scarla Smythe? Never mind that girl faded into nothingness a few nights ago on the red carpet.