The Devil's Lair (6 page)

“It has to do with both of you.” Leila takes one of her hands, “Paula, Jack and I would like to help you with all your medical bills. We also will be setting up a trust fund for Shane’s education.”

“I don’t know what to say.” She looks from Leila to me, clearly flustered with our offer. “I was just trying to make my son’s dreams come true. Give him some memories he could hold on to. I wasn’t looking for charity.”

A tear slowly runs down her cheek. Leila stands to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “We aren’t offering charity, Paula. We are completely invested in Shane’s future. We want you to enjoy your time with him, without having to worry about his welfare.”

Paula refuses to look at either of us. She’s humbled and embarrassed more than anything else. It’s clear on her face. Leila pulls her chair closer, still holding onto Paula’s hand.

“We also have something else we wanted to talk to you about.” My wife quickly glances my way before getting to the point of this meeting. “We want you to consider giving us guardianship of Shane. We’ve grown very fond of your son. We know it’s only been a short time, but he’s already stolen our hearts. In fact, he’s stolen our entire band’s hearts.”

Paula’s eyes expectedly well up with more tears. Still holding Leila’s hand, she quickly looks down at her lap to avoid eye contact.

“We know this is ripping you apart. We want to be there for you as well as Shane. Please let us be your support. Think carefully about our request. We don’t want to pressure you in any way.”

She swipes away at the tears rolling down her face. “I will.” She shakes her head, giving us a rueful smile. “I wasn’t expecting this. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful. I just...” She pulls in a deep breath. “I’m at a loss.”

“We’re here whenever you want to talk about this. We’ll answer any questions you have.”

I almost add that she should take her time. I thankfully stop myself before voicing my thoughts. She doesn’t have time, or much of it at least. This woman is about to make the single most important decision of her son’s life. The situation is atrocious. The facts surrounding it are unspeakable. Yet, it’s necessary. It’s required and it needs to be discussed. My gut clenches from the reality of how any future discussions will occur. Fuck, it’s not like we are closing on a real estate deal. This is a child. Her child. Her flesh and blood and we are complete strangers.

I only hope she sees how genuine we are, how absolutely committed we are to Shane’s future.

After Paula leaves, we sit side by side on the couch, watching our children playing without a care in the world, just as they should be. No words are exchanged. We don’t need to voice our thoughts. I hold Leila close as we quietly think about Paula’s situation. An occasional sniffle from my wife is the only evidence of her emotional state.

It’s a long time later when she finally says, “Jack, I’m scared for her.”

“I know, Babe. Me too.”

I am. I’m truly terrified for Paula Elliot. I’m not scared for Shane. He will be ok. He’ll grow up knowing what a selfless person his mother was. How brave and how courageous she was to make her final days all about him. As hard as it’s been for her to battle her illness, that’s not even the hardest thing she’ll endure. The emotions she will be fighting these coming weeks, months will rip her to shreds.

Paula’s hell is only beginning.

Hunter

We breezed through Germany and Portugal without drama. The nerves we all felt from touring in foreign lands are no longer an issue. We quickly acclimated to the travel schedule, the customs we experienced at each stop, and even having our wives with us for the first time since we became famous. It’s all like second nature to us now. We’ve morphed into world traveled rock stars without a conscious thought.

Routines were established regarding rehearsal time and down time. Tara has begun writing her book, interviewing us in between the two. Mandi and Patti even found their own purpose while traveling with their rock star husbands. Mandi has been helping Jen and Paula with the administrative part of the tour.

Jen is acting as agent and tour manager. Dylan is not able to travel with us since his wife Krista is very pregnant. Jen keeps them both busy with all the mundane crap that Dylan handled. They both know how to handle Jen. My wife can handle the devil himself if he were to suddenly show up. Her even keeled personality is just what is needed to counter balance Jen’s. Patti is much more confrontational and opinionated. By default, she becomes a preschool tutor to the twins and a kindergarten teacher to Shane. She loves kids, and may have found her calling in life.

At each show Jack would introduce Shane and have him perform his two-song set side by side with Trey. It became our norm, and Shane’s focus in life. On nights when we didn’t perform, he would hang out with the twins, acting like the child he is, carefree and innocent.

Paula has been unbelievably strong throughout. The air has been thick with the unspoken thoughts that plague us. To see her so happy and jovial, seeing her positive attitude is an inspiration to us all. How can I complain about nonsense when this woman is literally enjoying every minute that God hands her, knowing they are numbered?

She loves hanging out with us. Sometimes it makes it all too easy to forget her reality when she’s laughing at our antics. We love making her laugh and getting her drunk. She’s a riot when she’s tipsy. She has no filter and could stand toe-to-toe with Trey in a lewd joke battle. So with each day that passes, the tone and mood of our tour lightens once again. Such is life, right? Attitude is everything. Paula is unintentionally giving us all life lessons that we will carry with us from here on out. I know I will. Life is too short.

I have been doing a lot of contemplating lately. What is it that I want out of life? I have so much already. My career is kick-ass. My wife is stunning and gorgeous, inside and out. I have the best friends a man can ask for. I lack for nothing, except for maybe appreciation. I’ll admit it, I never really thought about it. Now it consumes my every thought. I allow myself to think of what it would feel like to lose my career, or worse, my wife. How would I survive that? I’ve lacked gratitude, until now.

I now wake up every morning thankful for what I have. I no longer assume we will be here tomorrow. It’s bewildering to suddenly have these thoughts invade your otherwise careless and oblivious mind. It’s very humbling. At my age it’s foreign to think this way. I’ve never had to think this way. Sure, sure, I’m always grateful for my good fortunes, but what exactly does that mean? Those looking in on my life see a handsome, very talented drummer who is a jokester and can sometimes act immaturely…act being the key word. It’s my fucking shtick.

That’s only part of who I am. The real me is very insecure. I’ve always had issues of not being worthy. Hours of therapy couldn’t fix that. Three weeks into this tour and I’m learning more about myself than I have over the past three decades. The core of who I am remains the same. I’m a good person. I love with all my heart. I’m funny. However, I’m also selfish in many ways. I argue that my selfishness doesn’t hurt anyone, so therefore it’s ok. For instance, I’m selfish when it comes to my own sexual gratification. As long as it’s the only time I am, and as long as my wife is okay with that, then no one can fucking fault me. I’m a man.

Speaking of sexual satisfaction, I have yet to use my new camera. It sucks. I’m busting at the seams. I haven’t pushed Mandi at all. We’ve all had so much on our minds, and so much tension to channel once we were behind our closed doors. We could use something to distract us. We arrived in Italy yesterday. We’ll be here for over a week, traveling from Milan to a beachside resort as we play shows in Florence and Rome. Mandi is soaking in the tub, and I’m sitting here trying to figure out a way to get my movie made. I haven’t mentioned it since fucking Trey last interrupted us. Of course, she hasn’t mentioned it either. She only does it to make me happy, but it’s not on her to do list. I can just set up the camera so when she emerges, there’s no need to ask the question. I can concentrate on the seduction versus the begging.

Good plan.

I busy myself setting it all up, I strip down to my boxers, and I sit waiting patiently for her to step into my plan. My cock swells from the visual I have playing in my head. Hoping she appears in nothing but a towel, I start the camera and call for her through the door.

“I’ll be right out,” she calls back. Her voice sounds closer than it should, which means she is done with her bath. When the door opens, she stuns me into silence. Her hair is long and curly, cascading around her shoulders. Her face is flushed, bare of makeup and even more breathtaking. What instantly causes my cock to tent my boxers is the sheer black bra and panty set she is wearing. I haven’t seen this one. It molds over her curves like a second skin.

A breathy, “Holy shit,” escapes.

She smiles when she sees the camera sitting at the foot of the bed. “You ruined my surprise,” she pouts. “I was going to suggest we do this.”

The fact that my wife thought of this on her own, without my usual begging, pleading, and downright groveling, is a complete and utter turn on. I hold my hand out to her and she walks closer to accept it.

“You have no idea what that does to me.”

She smirks adorably and reaches down to hold my betraying cock. “Yes, I do.”

I shake my head, “Not him. Me. The fact you did this on your own means more to me than you realize. Thank you.”

She kisses me slowly. “I’m sorry it took so long. I guess there’s something about being in Italy that brings out my inner minx.”

I wrap my arms around her back before lowering them to hold the curve of her ass. “I think that’s my cue to learn Italian.”

She laughs at my suggestion. “My dad would love that.”

“Eww. No mention of dad when I’m grinding my hard-on into your pussy, please?”

“Eww,” she repeats, scrunching up her nose in disgust.

My wife and I are both half Italian. Our Italian fathers get along beautifully. They are two peas in a pod. They are also two royal pains in the ass. Each and every time we are together, the grandchild conversation occurs. They revert to their native language to ensure we have no clue what they are saying. Our moms happily fill in the blanks whenever they can. We’re blessed with awesome parents.

Bringing them into this suite right now is wrong on so many levels. I literally shake my head to remove the visual of their smiling faces from my brain.

“Okay, I need to taste you now,” I admit, bringing her closer still. The first place I attach my lips to is the curve of her jaw. She tilts her head, giving me better access. I pull away almost immediately, confusing her. “If anyone knocks, if the phone rings, if the goddamn hotel catches on fire, we are not stopping.”

She laughs at my demands, “I promise.”

“Good. As long as we are clear.” I can now resume devouring my wife with a clear head. I skim the lace of her bra with my fingertips, “New?”

“You like it?”

“Not at all,” I say with a smile before dipping my head to nip at her hardened nipple. I repeat the motion with her other breast. She hums softly, both her hands gripping my arms. The more I pull and nip, the tighter her grip gets. “We’re wasting good footage. Ready?”

“Very.”

I’m pleased as a kid in a toy store by her eagerness. “I must say, this is a nice change. Usually I’m begging,” I admit my thoughts.

She smiles warmly and plants a soft kiss on my lips before leaving me alone with my camera. My baby does everything she knows I love. She pulls out all the stops. When her fingers dip into her panties, I can’t stand it any longer. I move to join her on film. Lost in the moment, I actually forget what it is I’m trying to accomplish. I actually forget the camera that sits only a few feet away. Her lips wrapped around my cock blanks my mind from all other thoughts. The taste of her on my tongue wipes away any intentions I had going in. Feeling her warmth as I slide deep inside of her consumes every fiber of my being. Her cries mixing with my moans do me in.

Once we lay chest-to-chest, arms and limbs wrapped tightly each other, I suddenly remember my task. “Oh, yeah. We did this on film.”

She laughs, disbelievingly saying, “You’re serious. You actually forgot?”

“I really did. See, this is why I love doing this. Total win/win situation. We just made sweet music together for the past hour, and now I get to watch it all again and again and again.” I drum a beat on her ass with my fingertips. A habit after we make love.

“You’re a smart man, Mr. Amatto.”

“I know. I’m brilliant.”