The Devil's Lair (7 page)

“Hunt, what the hell is wrong with you?” Jack asks for the third time. I’m off. I’m not on my game. This rehearsal has been torture for me. This never happens to me.

“Let’s start from the top.”

Jack sighs and shakes his head. “Fine. From the top.”

The next run through goes off perfectly. So does every song for the rest of our rehearsal. The reason is because I’m concentrating like a bitch on each hit I make with my sticks. I usually can play my part in my sleep. I don’t need to think about it…ever.

After rehearsing the last song in our planned encore, Jack steps over to where I’m still sitting, staring into space.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

He shakes his head before saying, “Dude, you sucked ass earlier. That was scary.”

“I’m fine. It was a fluke, don’t worry about it.”

A lie…a big fat motherfucking lie. I know exactly what’s wrong, and I’m not fine. I’m a dead man. My wife is going to kill me. She is going to cut my goddamn dick off. She may even make me wear it around my neck at my own funeral. Everything she feared is now dangerously close to coming true.

Why will I wear my dick as the latest fashion statement?

It’s because I’m an irresponsible asshole.

I am positive of three things:

I removed the card just as I always do after we finish our thing.

I lost the card.

I’m dead.

Shit, just thinking about this makes bile rise in my throat. How am I even going to tell her?

“
Oh, by the away, Baby, that SD card you were so afraid would get into the wrong hands? Yeah, well, I lost it
.”

It was in my hand as I unassembled the camera from the tripod. There was kissing, a phone call, a shower, the gang came by to chill before we headed out to dinner. We had an amazing Italian meal, got back to the hotel, and that’s when I broke out into a cold sweat. It was only then that I realized I don’t remember putting it in my usual safe place. I flew to the said safe place just to find it empty. I waited for Mandi to go to the bathroom so I could crawl around on my hands and knees searching under every piece of furniture in our suite. I checked my jeans pocket, my jacket, and the trash. I looked everywhere. I have no idea what I did with that fucking card.

The entire band was in my suite, and so was housekeeping. Someone had to have found it and taken it, but who?

Trey is the only one who knows about my little hobby. Could he be messing with me? I wouldn’t put it past the fucker to try. I watched him during rehearsal, trying to pick up any hints that he’s trying to fuck with me. He hasn’t let on that he is. Of the two possible scenarios of who could have this card, Trey is actually who I’m hoping for. I can handle him, and I’d get it back. If housekeeping found it and recognized an opportunity, I’m fucking sunk.

I wait until he and I are the last ones left on stage. As he packs up his bass, I step up behind him and demand, “Hand it over.”

He gives me a sideways glance, but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. Once his case is snapped shut, he turns to face me.

“Hand what over?”

“You know.”

“I know what?”

“Stop playing around. Just give it back.”

He folds his arms, eyeing me suspiciously. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The possibility that he doesn’t have it actually makes me feel sicker. I was banking on him and his normal prick-like ways. I’m taking a huge risk confiding in him. I am well aware of that and the realization that this can most definitely haunt me and or backfire.

The alternative is far worse.

I sigh heavily, mimicking his position. “I left the SD card out by mistake, and now it’s gone. You’re the only person who knows about it, so hand it over.”

He loses it…full-blown hysterics. He doubles over while holding his knees as his laughs bellow out of his fucking face. “Oh my God, this is beyond hilarious.”

“You asshole. Just think of Mandi and stop being a prick.”

He wipes his eyes with a grin still splitting his face in two. “I don’t have it, man. I don’t. I wish I did, but I don’t. Sorry.”

Fuck.

“You must promise me something, though. Please let me be there when you tell her.” The asshole cracks up all over again. His laughter and the pounding of my feet are the only sounds that fill the arena as I storm away.

I’m so dead
.

Jack

That rehearsal was awful. It has left me feeling very unsettled. We’ve all had our bad days, except Hunter. He never has a bad rehearsal, until today.

I watch Leila and the twins playing on the floor. She senses my eyes and looks over at my frowning face.

“Babe, are you still thinking about rehearsal?”

She walks over and settles on my lap, the smirk on her face tells me she thinks I’m brooding unnecessarily. Bad rehearsals bring me back to the days of our first tour when every bad one we had was a direct result of the crap we were dealing with at the time. Like an anemometer that measures wind before a massive storm, you could say I equate a bad rehearsal with signs of trouble ahead. It’s probably a stupid way to think, and I hope I’m wrong.

“He never fucks up,” I blurt out and Leila shoots me a dirty look.

“Jack.”

My eyes fly to the twins, who continue to play oblivious to my gutter mouth. If Madden had heard me, he would have repeated it. Crap. I’ve been so good with that.

“If there is something going on with Hunter, he usually can’t hide it well. With luck, he just ran out of
Froot Loops
.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

I shake my head. “No, if something is up, he’ll tell us. I just…” I grip the back of my neck, stalling for the right words. I hate bringing up those days. It upsets her.

“What?” She instantly calls me out.

“It’s me. It’s my issue. I’m overreacting.” She gauges my facial expression, and I know she isn’t convinced by my words. I give her a chaste kiss, “I’m fine. I swear.”

We both glance over at the twins. Madden becomes increasingly frustrated when the car he is playing with won’t fit into his back pocket. The kid shoves everything into his pockets. Leila and I exchange a look and openly laugh at our son. She once found a teaspoon, a cookie, and the head of one of his sister’s dolls in a pair of his jeans.

He looks up to see us laughing and comes running over. “Mama.” He hands Leila the car and turns around to offer his back pocket.

“This won’t fit, sweetie. It’s too big.” He pouts for a second and takes off for a smaller car. When he runs back to her, she places the car in his pocket to appease him. “Okay?”

“Ya.” He nods before taking off for another thing to swipe, I’m sure.

Someone knocking derails him immediately. He runs to the door, trying to open it with both hands.

“We really need to teach him to be more fearful,” Leila says as she follows him. “I worry he’d let an axe murderer in.”

His twin, who is opposite in every way, comes running over to me. She climbs onto my lap as her brother and mom open the door.

“Hey, Paula.”

“I’m really sorry to bother you. Do you guys have a minute?”

“Of course,” Leila moves aside to let her in.

I cross the room to greet her, “Hey, Paula.”

“Hi, Jack. Hey, Siarra,” she says, offering her hand. Siarra smiles, but makes no move to accept her hand.

“Come, sit.”

She nods slowly, following us further into the suite. The twins take off for their toys as we settle in the living room. Leila picks up on Paula’s nerves and sits beside her. The pessimist in me immediately thinks she has made her decision. Leila and I have been discussing the possibility of Shane joining our family. It’s been several days since we spoke to Paula. Her being here so soon can’t be a good sign.

“I’ve thought about our last conversation a lot,” she takes a deep breath before continuing, “I was surprised by your request, more importantly, I was stunned that you would do that for my son. I think you would give my son an amazing, loving life. He deserves that. I just think I need to move forward with my original plan.”

Leila and I look at her confused. “What plan is that?”

“When I decided to join you guys on tour, I was hoping I’d be well enough to travel until it ended. Of course there was no way of knowing, so I needed a backup plan. When the time came that I became too ill to travel, I would return back to the States with Shane. I researched the foster care system in my state and formed some relationships with the social workers in my area. I wanted some control over his future. I decided that I would be placing Shane into a foster care home that I choose before I…” she stops to take a few deep breaths. I watch my wife desperately try to control her own emotions. Paula smiles warmly at her and continues, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to control how I say goodbye, or how not to at least.”

“I don’t understand,” Leila admits.

“I don’t want him seeing me in that way. I’d rather let him go sooner rather than later.”

“Paula, you can’t do that to him. I lost my mother when I was ten. She tragically died in a car accident. I never had the chance to say goodbye.”

Paula takes Leila’s hand. “How do you remember your mother?”

Leila smiles fondly. “Young, beautiful, full of life.” Her own words help her realize what Paula’s point is. The realization hits her immediately as Paula smiles at her and nods.

“Exactly.”

Leila loses her battle, and a few tears escape. She quickly wipes them away, embarrassed at her lack of control and mutters an apology.

“Don’t be sorry. Your reaction only supports my opinion of you. You’re very loving, very compassionate. If I had to choose the perfect mother for Shane, it would be someone just like you. But I fear that you guys are caught up in the situation I’m in, and because of your compassion you are making rash decisions. When you embarked on this tour, you didn’t think you’d return home plus one. I know you said you’ve thought it over, and you said I should take my time. I feel you should as well. I would arrange for Shane to have open visitation rights from you when you return. I’d also leave a stipulation in my will that if you decided to adopt him, then it would be with my blessing.”

Conflicting emotions tear my wife apart. Paula gives us each a few minutes to process all she’s just said.

“Paula, speaking for both of us, we won’t be changing our minds.”

“I would feel better knowing you took some time to think it through.”

I understand where she’s coming from. It only supports my initial concerns. This is her child. Of course she needs to be sure, but we do as well.

“When will you be leaving?” I ask, wondering if we have days or weeks to be with him.

“Soon. Probably within the next two or three weeks.”

That gives us some time, but even if we were to convince her by then, what’s next? Does Shane stay with us? The thought of Paula leaving without him is gut wrenching.

Shit, this situation is not good.

The women continue to chat quietly, but my mind wanders to my own kids. They have a very long line of people in their lives that love them. This little boy had one person in his life. Now he has at least three. The more time he spends with us, the more people fall in love with him. Paula was meant to meet us. My life has been a string of fateful events that all changed me as a person, getting me to this exact moment in my life. It was fate that brought Paula and Shane to us. There isn’t a doubt in my mind he belongs with us.

Milan was beautiful, but a very short visit. We don’t have many stops that we’ll be in and out of like we were in Milan. For the next week, we’ll be staying at the gorgeous Tuscan beach of
Castiglione Della Pescaia
and performing in Florence and Rome. The beach is very family friendly, and the commute to both arenas is fairly quick. My wife handpicked it, and she made a spectacular choice. Beverly and the kids can settle in for the week while we are rehearsing or performing.

My wife, being Italian, adores it here. She has hinted she would live here in a heartbeat. Of course I know she doesn’t mean that literally, but vacationing on the Tuscan coast will definitely be something I’ll surprise her with in the future.