What Now? (14 page)

Words
began to tease his mind. He wrote and re-wrote and then put them together with
his melody. He hadn’t written like this in ages. He’d hardly had any time
recently, with the concerts and the rehearsals. Also, the label was trying to
push a lot of the stuff that he didn’t even write himself. He had missed this.
This was the kind of music he wanted to write, not the crap like “Moving On”. 
Granted, it was at the top of the charts, but what was it really about? Some guy
telling a woman that he’d outgrown her and he was moving on.

Granted,
he hadn’t been the best husband in the world, but he wasn’t that cold and
heartless. However, “Moving On” was selling and that’s what kept the record
company happy. But what would keep him happy? What about his music? If he
didn’t use it, would he lose it? Had he gained the whole world only to lose his
soul?

He
looked at the lyrics that he’d written and began to strum his battered acoustic
guitar and put the words to the melody. His guitar had travelled more than many
people had in their lives and it had been faithful to him. He’d left it for
long periods of time and played with many better-looking guitars, but when he
came back to it, it never failed him. Oh, to find a woman like that who would
be there for him every time he came back; who would be faithful. He swore that
if he found such a woman, this time he would be faithful. This time he would
make it work.

The
temperature in Miami was a warm 75°F. A brisk wind teased Shari’s curly hair as
she stood at the rails of the fifty-foot luxury yacht that the band had rented
to ferry them between the mainland and Fisher Island. She had looked beneath
deck briefly while they were waiting to cast off and was amazed at the luxurious
fittings. The rental could comfortably sleep six if any of the band felt
inclined to sleep on it.

Although
she found it fairly impressive, it was dwarfed by the hundred-foot and bigger
yachts that were berthed near it. When Nick and the band had walked down the
pier to board, they were hardly given a second glance by any occupants of the
mega yachts who happened to be on deck waiting to set sail.  Shari concluded
that millionaires don’t gawk at rock stars probably because they lived larger
than life as well.

She
forced herself to get back into work mode after the few days of holiday with
her mother and began to succeed only when the mainland receded. What was wrong
with her? She never had to force herself to think about work, although sailing
around on luxury yachts, flying in private jets and staying in the best hotels
hardly seemed like work. Maybe that was the problem.

The
others seemed content to head downstairs to the bar for the brief trip to the
island. Lily had complained that the wind was too high for her and had joined
them below deck, leaving Shari practically alone except for the crew and Brian
who stood at the stern filming their departure.

Brad
had introduced her and Brian to the new drummer, Paul Granger, whom he’d hired
during the break. He seemed to be a vast improvement on Tim and she hoped that he
would fit in with the group. Apparently they knew him from playing with another
band which had recently broken up so they’d snatched him up. At least they
would have a couple of days to bring him up to speed on their songs before the
concert.

Nick
quietly walked up behind Shari, his footsteps masked by the engine and the slap
of the waves against the side of the yacht as it plowed through the slightly
choppy waves. The bare nape of her neck drew him as if it was exuding a
magnetic pull. He knew that she would be mad, but he couldn’t seem to help
himself. He leaned forward and quickly trailed his lips from her hairline to
the base of her neck. Stepping back, he braced himself as Shari whipped around,
sure that she would slap him, and with good reason.

“Nick
Badley, I told you never to touch me like that again! I could file sexual
harassment charges against you.”

Nick
held up both hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to harass you, Shari, but I
couldn’t resist. You look great! Relaxed. The time at your mum seems to have
agreed with you.”

He
looked wonderful to Shari as well, but he would never know it from her.
“Listen, I’m working and you’re my subject. I don’t mix business with
pleasure.”

“Ah,
so you admit that was pleasurable. Does that mean that once you finish the
documentary we can pursue other pleasures?” 

She shook
her head in exasperation.

“Please
stop flirting with me, Nick. Perhaps it’s time for you to find someone to have
a relationship with so that you will stop hitting on every woman you meet.”

“I’ll
have you know that I don’t hit on women. I don’t have to.”

“Then
why are you hitting on me?” she asked pointedly.

“I
can’t seem to help it, Shari.” He said this so seriously that she was shocked
into silence. What game was he up to now? Was he an actor as well as a singer?

Turning
back to the rail, she focused on Fisher Island which was still a mere speck on
the horizon. She’d been to Miami many times, but she never knew about the
resort on the private island. It was a bonus that it was only three miles from
the American Airlines Arena where the band would be performing. She wondered
how Nick felt about the upcoming concert.

“Did
you enjoy the time with your mother?” he asked, coming alongside her at the
rail.

“Yes,
thanks. What about you? You seem a lot better.”

“It
was a good break. I was able to forget about Chicago some of the time and I was
able to sit down with my guitar and write a couple songs. It’s been a long time
since I’ve been able to finish a whole song.”

“Do
you write your own material?” She was all work again.

“Some,
but not as much as I would like. The label finds songs that they think will
sell and that work for the band and we record them.”

“So
you didn’t write “Moving On”?”

“No.
Surely you don’t think I’m that heartless.”

“I
don’t know you well enough to say.”

“I’m
hurt,” he complained, putting his hand over his heart.

“Nick,
I’ve known you for less than two weeks,” she reminded him.

“Funny.
It seems longer than that. And you probably know more about me than most
people. I don’t know where you get your low opinion of me, but it’s erroneous.”

“Nick,
please. I’ve seen you with three women leaving your bedrooms in one week alone
and who knows how many you were with in the last few days. Forgive me if I find
it hard to believe that you’re some sort of saint.”

“I’m
not claiming to be a saint, Shari. But I’m not the worse sinner either. Maybe I
just need a nice girl to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

“The
last thing you need is a nice girl, Nick. You would just trample all over her.”

“I
can’t trample all over you, Shari, which is why I find you so appealing. But
I’d like to kiss all over you,” he added in a husky voice. His eyes, shaded by
sunglasses, were unreadable, but Shari’s skin felt hot under his gaze.

“Nick
Badley –” she began.

“OK,
OK. I promise not to make any more suggestive remarks…for the rest of the day.”

She
blew out her breath in frustration. She was relieved that Fisher Island was
becoming clearer and soon they would be docking. She needed to get out of
Nick’s radius so that she could regain her equilibrium. She didn’t know what
was up with him, but for some reason he was playing with her and she didn’t
like it one bit. This Nick Badley was dangerous.

The
yacht pulled into the guest marina and the crew dropped anchor. Several golf
carts waited near the end of the dock to transport them to the lobby where they
were checked in very efficiently. Shari was charmed by her Guest House Suite
which led off from a courtyard with a fountain in the center of it. She dropped
across the bed and smiled in delight. She really was getting used to this life.

She’d
love to see Nick’s suite. He, Steve and Paul were apparently sharing the famous
Rosemary’s Cottage which she had seen online when she had researched the island.
She had begun to look forward to seeing Nick’s rooms as they moved from hotel
to hotel. Most of the properties were the height of luxury, so Nick could
complain for nothing except, as he said, not being able to sleep in his own
bed.

The
last thing she wanted to do was see Nick in his current flirtatious mood, but
she really should interview him before the concert to capture how he was
feeling so that she could show the vulnerable side of him to the audience. She
knew that he probably wouldn’t want to talk about it, but there was no way she
could omit his reaction to the tragedy in Chicago from the documentary.

She
picked up her phone and searched her contacts for Nick’s number which he had
sent to her, as promised, even though she had hung up on him. In a fit of conscience,
she had sent him a text apologizing for doing so, but he had not replied. She
wasn’t sure if he had been mad at her for disconnecting him or if he didn’t
check his messages. Knowing him, he probably didn’t check messages. After all,
he was Nick Badley.

Nick
answered after about four rings. She’d almost hung up.

“Hi,
Shari. What’s up?” 

“Hi,
Nick. I know that you probably don’t want to talk about Chicago, but I don’t
think the documentary would be complete without having you share about it. So I
was wondering if Brian and I could come to your suite and do a quick interview
after lunch and before you guys go off to rehearse, especially since you’ll
probably be rehearsing most of tomorrow.”

“If
you must.”

“Yes.
We’ll be there around two. Brian will get some footage of you since we don’t
have any of you being interviewed yet.”

After
lunch, with Brian in tow, she knocked at the door of Nick’s cottage. The
entrance was charming and the stone sculpture over the door reminded Shari of
photos she’d seen of some of the villas in Barbados. She looked forward to
seeing inside.

“Hi,
guys. Come on in.” So she was one of the guys now. Fine. That was better than
him flirting with her, wasn’t it?

“This
is fabulous,” she said, looking around. From the living room she spotted a
small kitchenette and, from her research, she knew there were three bedrooms
and three bathrooms. “It reminds me of some of those West Coast villas in
Barbados with that blue upholstery and the dark furniture.”

“You’re
right. My room even has a four poster bed. Want to test it out?” He leered exaggeratedly
at her. Brian laughed, to her annoyance.

“Please!
You stayed on the West Coast when you went to Barbados?”

“That’s
where the celebrities stay, isn’t it?” he joked. Shari rolled her eyes, but it
was true. “I can’t remember the name of the villa, but it was pure luxury. Just
talking about it makes me feel like going back. I wonder if it’s available for
New Year’s Eve. Want to go to a party in Barbados?”

“Sure,”
she agreed facetiously. It must be great to be able to go wherever you wanted
to, thought Shari enviously. No wonder he didn’t have a bucket list.

“Where
would you like to do the interview?” she asked, feeling slightly ashamed of
herself for envying Nick.

“The courtyard.
It’s private and it’s such a great day, I want to be outside,” he said, leading
the way.

“The
natural light would be better,” agreed Brian.

The
courtyard was walled in and featured a sunken Jacuzzi. Palm trees and tropical
flowers added softness to the setting while two tables surrounded by
comfortable chairs provided somewhere for them to talk.

“Oh,
you have a Jacuzzi!” exclaimed Shari. “I’m so jealous,” she confessed.

“I
plan to relax in it tonight. You’re welcome to join me,” invited Nick.

“I’ll
pass,” teased Brian.

“I
didn’t mean you, Talbot.” Brian laughed. “You’re welcome to use it, Shari.”

“That’s
very kind of you. Maybe when you’re at the rehearsal. Shall we get started?”

Brian
set up his camera on a tripod as Nick began to speak.

“To
tell the truth, I’m not looking forward to this. I want to forget that Chicago
ever happened, but then that would diminish the importance of the lives that
were lost. Sometimes it seems so unreal, I can’t believe it happened.”

“How
has it affected you?”

“It’s
given me a new perspective of the responsibility that we as musicians have.”

“What
do you mean?”

“Well,
although I know that I’m not personally responsible for what happened, I feel a
sense of responsibility towards our fans. They wait in lines for hours just to
see us. If they can’t get in, they could begin to panic and may rush the gates
like what happened in Chicago. That means that we need to have a greater level
of responsibility concerning where we’re booked, how safe it is, the type of
seating being offered and things like that. If an arena is small, it has got to
be reserved seating only.”

“How
do you feel about the concert coming up here in Miami since it’s the first
since Chicago?”

“To
be perfectly honest, I’m dreading it and looking forward to it at the same time.
The short break we had has helped me to start the recovery process, so I’m
looking forward to performing again and keeping our fans happy. I know that the
AA Arena is very safe and security-conscious, but I can’t help feeling a bit of
anxiety. You know what I mean?”