Very Twisted Things (Briarcrest Academy #3) Page 8

  The room had spun. Walk down the aisle in front of the media and all our friends? Get on a plane? “What?”

  “I’m ready for you to start living again, Violet.”

  I stared at him. In horror. Didn’t he get it? My parents were at the bottom of the Atlantic. My music was gone. I considered killing myself each day.

  “You need to move on, Violet.” Now, his voice was stern, and I saw him then. I saw how he was tired of my moping. Tired of my depression. He wanted his happy girl back.

  I stood, my hands tapping. I was screwed up, and he had no clue because his life was still wrapped in fairy dust.

  “I can’t,” came out of me. “I—I’m sorry.”

  I twisted the ring off my finger. “This piece of jewelry is the only thing that survived the crash. I lost my parents, my violin, all my luggage, even the clothes they found me in were later thrown away … everything is gone except this one thing.” I placed it gently on the table and ended the final chapter. “And now it’s gone. Goodbye, Geoff.”

  PHIL, MY NEW boss at Masquerade, was a real ass-hat.

  I should have known it from the interview when his eyes never lifted above my neck, but the needy musician in me had ignored it. Of course, he had hired me without actually hearing me play or knowing my full name, so I guess my boobs had come in handy for that at least.

  He smirked as he stood up from behind his desk and adjusted the waist of his slacks. Judging by his gut, he liked to eat, and even from here I could smell the garlic and cheesy bread on his breath. “You look pale,” he noted, “and lose the jacket and unbutton the top two buttons on your dress. This isn’t a nunnery; it’s a restaurant with a night club downstairs, so get with the program.”

  Keeping my face placid, I did as he asked and undid some of the buttons. Silky and fitted with a lace overlay, I’d picked the dress up today after I’d left Dr. Cooke’s office. It was just the little confidence booster I needed to encourage me to get out there on that raised dais in the center of the restaurant and play. I sucked in a breath. I could do this.

  “You busy later?” Phil asked as we left his office and walked out into the restaurant.

  “Yes.” If you count watching Glee re-runs.

  He gave me a smarmy smile and licked his lips, his eyes honed in on my cleavage. “You sure? I just got a new Lamborghini. We could take a drive up to Mulholland and I could show you the sights.”

  “That’s okay. I have a Maserati. It knows the way.”

  He gave me a sharp look. “Watch yourself, V. I don’t like smart-mouths.”

  I blinked. Had I been a smart-ass? Maybe. I grinned and clung to the brave feeling that bubbled up. I tried it on for size. “Are you sexually harassing me? Because if you are, I’ve always wanted to own an Italian restaurant.” Not true.

  He puffed up his chest and took two giant steps back from me as he held his hands up in front of him. “I was just making conversation. No one is harassing you here.” He cleared his throat. “Now, get over to the hostess stand and wait for me to call for you.”

  He marched off in a huff, and I mentally cheered. It was a tiny victory.

  I headed to the coat check to hang up my jacket.

  A young, female voice spoke from behind me. “Pssst, V.”

  I looked behind me and saw the redheaded hostess girl I’d met earlier. She waved and smiled broadly from behind her stand. It was hard to believe we were the same age.

  “Yeah?”

  She smacked her gum. “Come over here. There’s a guy in the VIP section who’s staring at you like you’re on the dessert menu. His eyes followed you all the way out of Phil’s office. Weird, huh?”

  I harrumphed. “He probably just has gas.”

  “He was staring so hard I’m surprised you couldn’t feel it.” She wiggled all over.

  I glanced down at my black ensemble. “He’s probably wondering why my dress is unbuttoned to my navel.” I buttoned it back up. Screw Phil.

  Her eyes flared big as saucers as she arched her neck to get a better view of him. “OMG, get this: he’s with Blair Storm, which means it’s him.” She flapped her arms around.

  I walked closer. “Um, you okay?” Maybe I should have applied at the Macaroni Grill down the road.

  Then alarm bells rang. “Wait. Blair Storm?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said as she covertly held her phone next to a menu and snapped pics. “They are so freaking beautiful. My roommate is going to die when I text her this.”

  Dread pooled in my stomach. I scanned the tables hurriedly, but didn’t see them. “Where?”

  She pointed and I found them at a big curved booth in the back with several other people. My heart jumped as Sebastian’s intense eyes met mine. His muscled arms flexed, calling attention to his hands—which were on top of the table cuddling with Blair Storm’s.

  Oh. I looked away, surprised by how much it hurt to see them together.

  Phil walked up to the stand and clapped his hands. “Quit gawking at the celebrities with your mouth open.” He looked at me. “Are you ready to play?”

  My chest tightened and my eyes bounced around. I landed on Sebastian. “There’s someone I have to say hello to first.”

  “Who?” he and the hostess girl said at the same time.

  “Ahhhhhh.” I nodded my head in Sebastian’s direction. “Guy at table eight?”

  She grabbed her chest. “You-you know him?”

  “He came over one night to go swimming. Saved a dog. Quoted Shakespeare to me.”

  “OMG, you’re going to be so famous,” she exclaimed. “Please, get his autograph for me when you go over there. And Spider’s too.” She closed her eyes, in the throes of a star-gasm. “‘Superman’ was like the best song ever. In the video, they danced in these fur coats during a snowstorm on a rooftop … only at the end, you see, they take off the coats, and they’re wearing these tiny bikini briefs, you know like the Europeans wear, and you can tell they have big cocks—”

  I held my hand up to stop the madness. “I get the picture.” I’d actually seen the famous video today when I’d googled them, but it had been their music that I’d noticed. It was wild and raw with lyrics straight from the heart. Toss in how gorgeous they were, and it was no wonder they’d hit it big.

  Phil put his hand on my arm. “We don’t flirt with the guests.”

  I shook him off. “It would be rude to ignore him—and he’s waving me over.” He totally wasn’t, but before I could change my mind, I grabbed the note pad the hostess thrust in my face and went for it.

  Anything to get my mind off playing.

  I made my way over to the VIP section.

  Just say hi. That’s all. Don’t look at Bubbles and think about how you’d like to stick a fork in her eyeball.

  I stopped at their table, my eyes widening when I saw Mila.

  “Hey, you,” she said in surprise, a big smile on her face.

  I filled in the gaps, remembering how she said she was a PR person.

  “Your clients?” I asked, indicating Sebastian and Spider, and she nodded. Relief filled me because I liked her. A lot. But if she’d been seeing Sebastian, then I’m not so sure how I would have felt. Not sure why that mattered anyway, since he was obviously seeing Blair.

  Spider looked from me to her. “You guys know each other?”

  “We bonded over coffee and a mutual distrust of boob jobs,” she said on a giggle.

  Sebastian crossed his arms, effectively dropping hands with Blair. His eyes darted over my shoulder, and I followed his gaze and found Phil’s angry face and the hostess girl’s look of rapture.

  I sighed. “That’s my boss. He didn’t want me coming over.”

  “You didn’t mention this is where you worked,” he said, a hint of accusation in his voice.

  “She did to me,” Mila chimed in. “I can’t wait to hear her play the violin.”

  I looked at Sebastian. “You didn’t mention you were coming here on a date,” I said.

  Bl
air’s eyes were daggers as they raked over me. “Well as you can see, he is on a date.”

  I ignored her and poked Spider in the arm and nodded my head at his drink. “You want me to come over tomorrow and make you another green drink? Don’t think I didn’t see you pour it out this morning before I left.”

  He grinned and toasted me with his whiskey glass. “This is the best hangover remedy I need, but if you do come, I’ll make sure I have my pants on next time.” He chuckled. “I just can’t promise I’ll drink what you make.”

  An older man sitting with them, who’d been studying me, spoke. “You must be the new neighbor Sebastian mentioned earlier.” He shook my hand. “I’m Harry Goldberg, their agent.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said warily. With stark white hair and beady eyes, he had a sharp look to him, as if there wasn’t much he missed.

  Blair’s face was hard as she looked at me. “Don’t you work at the coffee shop in the Grant Plaza? The one with the low-fat Frappuccino’s everyone raves about?”

  “No,” I said.

  Her eyes turned into slits. “You sure? I could have sworn I’d seen you there.”

  I smiled tightly. “I’m pretty sure of where I work. It’s here.”

  I gave Sebastian a searching look. Why was he with her?

  “No, really, I think I’ve seen—”

  “Can you join us for a few?” Sebastian asked, cutting her off.

  Here we go. Cold then hot. Up then down.

  “I don’t want to bother you during your meal, plus I have to go on soon.” My hands shook at the thought. I sucked in a breath, trying to chill out.

  Concern flickered over his face. “V, sit down. Please.”

  I touched my cheeks. They felt clammy.

  “You are so sweet to worry about some little waitress,” Blair cooed as she leaned in and kissed Sebastian lightly on the lips. I watched as Mila clawed at her like a kitten from behind. But I couldn’t laugh. I wanted to crawl under the table.

  Spider touched my hand, as if sensing my thoughts. “Here, sit by me.”

  I nodded and settled in next to him. He tossed a tattooed arm around me and gave me a little hug. His other arm was already around Mila. He glanced at us both and grinned. “Bloody hell, I’ve got two beautiful birds on either side of me. All we need now is a dark room, a big-ass bed, and some lube.”

  I burst out laughing along with Mila. He was just teasing, of course, but Sebastian’s jaw clenched as he stared at us. I let my eyes rove over the rest of him, taking in the tousled hair, the blazing blue eyes, the fullness of his lips—even if they did seem a bit tight. He might be with Blair, but he was angry that I was sitting next to Spider. It made no sense.

  As Sebastian and Blair ducked their heads to talk to each other, Spider chuckled from beside me and whispered. “Blair’s getting her knickers in a wad at the way you’re staring at her man.”

  Shit! I flicked my eyes over at her red face and then turned back to Spider. “Why does she hate me?” I whispered.

  Spider cocked an eyebrow at me. “Babe, you’re hot. Sebastian’s the one who’s making it worse. He can’t take his eyes off you. He saw you come out from the back with your boss and nearly flipped his lid. I think he thought you were on a date.”

  With Phil?

  “He blew me off last night,” I murmured. “I don’t think he really cares.”

  Spider nodded. “He’s had a rough time of it. Putting up with me, managing the band—and now Blair. I don’t know how he keeps it together. He’s my best mate, and if it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be dead. Or back in rehab.” He sighed. “We didn’t come here just to make movies, you know. Part of the reason he wanted to settle down in LA was to get me off the road for a while. He’s a good guy. Always has been.”

  I nodded.

  Harry said something to me and I turned back to face the table. “Sorry. What was that?” I asked.

  Harry spoke again, his keen eyes on me. “I asked if you’d ever worked on a set?”

  “No.” I shook my head, fighting the need to tap. Or squirm. Or something.

  “You have an agent?”

  “No.”

  “She used to live in New York,” Mila said to him. “She’s new here.”

  His eyes speared me. “Huh. New York? You look like someone I know—”

  “Why would she need an agent? She plays classical music in a restaurant,” Blair interrupted in a lofty tone. “And not the best one in town either. Really, Harry, what were you thinking in coming here? This place is truly awful.”

  “Her music isn’t classical by any stretch of the imagination,” Sebastian said softly, his eyes boring into mine.

  Blair stared at Sebastian, her face cold. “There’s a weird undercurrent between you two that needs to stop before anyone else notices.” She pointed out the window at a group of paparazzi who were standing on the sidewalk waiting for celebrities to walk by. “They don’t miss much of anything these days.”

  I blinked, unsure how to take her comments.”

  Wait, I do know you!” Blair exclaimed, turning back to me. I flinched. “You’re that girl who ran out of the coffee shop after making a huge mess. No wonder you didn’t want to admit you worked there. You’re also the girl Sebastian was with at the ice cream shop.” She sent Sebastian a scowl. “Did you plan this? Are you trying to ruin our careers?”

  What? That was insane. I didn’t want to ruin them.

  Harry, who’d been sitting quietly, surfing on his phone, snapped his head up, a look of triumph on his face. His voice boomed across the table. “You’re Violet St. Lyons, that heiress who was in the plane crash. I knew you looked familiar.” He proudly showed them his phone, scrolling through pictures of me being hauled up in a rescue helicopter and one of me coming out of the Dublin hospital.

  No!

  “Who?” Sebastian said, a look of confusion on his face as he studied the phone. I wasn’t surprised. It was New Yorkers who knew my face by heart.

  Harry added, “You know … the plane that was bombed on its way to Dublin? There were articles written about her for weeks. It was her eighteenth birthday, and they found her floating on—”

  “Stop,” I gasped out, my heart in my throat. I couldn’t breathe.

  All eyes swiveled to me, and memories hit me.

  The explosion.

  Bodies being sucked out the hole.

  My mother.

  My father.

  Water.

  Darkness.

  The panic attack took over, cold chills racing down my spine even as fire blazed over me. Hot. Cold. I clutched the table, lungs burning, black spots dancing in my eyes. My stomach rolled, and it felt like cotton was in my mouth. I swallowed convulsively, keeping down bile.

  Please, not here, not in front of Sebastian and his friends—and Blair.

  “V?” Sebastian said as he jumped up from his seat and scooted in next to me. He clutched my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  Breathe! It’s not that hard!

  I practiced my exercises. Inhale … exhale.

  “She’s losing it, mate,” Spider said, a worried tone in his voice.

  “Talk to me,” Sebastian said, trying to lift my chin.

  “Need … to catch … breath.” I closed my eyes.

  Someone pffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s obviously faking for attention or she’s trashed.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Blair,” Sebastian snarled. “She’s freaking out because Harry brought up that plane crash.”

  “Do we need to call an ambulance?” Mila asked.

  “I don’t know. Shit. Maybe,” Sebastian replied.

  I held my hand up. “Done this … before. Wait.” My chest rose rapidly.

  “I’m not waiting. This is crazy, V,” Sebastian barked out as his arms swept underneath me. He picked me up from my seat. “I’m getting you out of here.”

  Everyone in the entire restaurant was probably staring by now. I molded myself to him and hid
my face in the hollow of his neck. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Fuck. I’m so sorry,” he said, carrying me across the floor.

  He was sorry? I was mortified.

  I opened my eyes when Phil came up and guided Sebastian back to his office. He left us there as Sebastian carried me inside and positioned me on the couch.

  I pressed my face against the cool leather. God. I wanted to crawl inside it and disappear.

  “Here, this should help,” he said, and placed a bottle of water in my hands. He must have taken it from Phil’s desk.

  “I’m sorry,” I said after a few moments. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. Harry—”

  “Don’t,” I said. “What you saw out there, I’ve done numerous times. It’s part of the reason I don’t play in public.” I rubbed my face.

  “I get that.” He sat next to me and hugged me tight as if he did it everyday. I didn’t protest. He idly doodled on my arm. “What’s the other reason you don’t play anymore?”

  I sighed. “After my parents—it’s hard to be the person I used to be.”

  He gave me a squeeze. “Want to know what happened to me once on stage?”

  I gave him a small smile. “I can’t see you ever doing anything embarrassing.”

  He shrugged. “Ha, well, one night we were playing a show in New Orleans at the House of Blues—the biggest one we’d had at that point. I was only twenty and a nervous wreck, so I sucked down some vodka before the show. Then, right in the middle of a song, my drunk ass tripped over some wires on stage and I fell flat on my face. The whole place died laughing.” He chuckled. “Busted my lip, chipped a tooth, and broke my nose.” He pointed to his front tooth where I saw a minuscule line. “Had to get a veneer put on.”

  I sighed at the image of him on stage. Chipped tooth or not, he’d be beautiful. “My freak-out didn’t freak you out?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. Made me want to jump across that table and smack Harry for getting you upset.” He searched my eyes. “And, I’m sorry to hear what happened to you. I lost my parents too, so I understand how grief changes a person. I was just a kid when it happened, but the pain that comes with loss doesn’t have an expiration date.”