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“Then don’t make me regret this decision,” I stated, staring pointedly at Wiggy until he grew uncomfortable and looked away. “Another comment about my wife, and it won’t be rehab you’ll be visiting for care next time, it’ll be a trip to the ER.” The shock on his face told me my words had hit home because I’d never been one for violence. From his stunned reaction, I saw he finally felt the gravity of my words and the deep feelings I had for Billie.
* * *
We picked up Strings and it was the first time we’d all been in one place in almost ten long months. We were headed to Oregon and our tour was due to take us down the North Pacific Highway, taking in San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix and finally finishing at The Palms Resort in Las Vegas.
Strings made us laugh when he told us about his sister’s new boyfriend, and how he’d fanboyed over Strings, much to Monica’s disgust. He began delivering one-liners and banter and Hammer joined in. Wiggy sat quietly and listened, which told em he’d taken my advice and kept his thoughts to himself.
At one point, I sat staring at Wiggy on the plane, mouth open, eyes closed, and dead to the world in sleep. It was easy to see he was clean because he’d been bored and distracted, then eventually he’d fallen asleep. Normally fidgety, he was completely still.
Sorry was my strongest feeling in relation to Wiggy. I knew I should’ve felt bad for hitting him, but I didn’t … not even a little. This thought worried me because it was my failing for letting him get to me, but I also knew if our band was to continue with the current line up, Wiggy needed to toe the line. He also needed to learn, if he wanted anything in life he had to begin to behave as if it wasn’t an automatic right or he didn’t already own it. Privilege, respect and acceptance had to be earned.
We all felt beat by the time we checked into our hotel in Portland and headed to the restaurant for a quick dinner before bed. Strings and I had our own rooms, but Hammer and Wiggy were sharing, with the understanding if Hammer hooked up I’d look after Wiggy for the night.
There was a note on the account that no alcohol was to be served to their room and indeed the barman was told not to supply Wiggy with anything other than soda, fruit juice or water. We’d stayed in the same place a few times before and the staff all knew us and had been used to this request in respect to Hammer. The hotel room minibar had been stripped out and filled instead with sodas and fruit juices, candy, and chocolate. There was also a supply of fruit, chips, and nuts. I was determined to do everything I could to keep my band on track.
“Sawyer?” A sweet girl’s voice asked as we were sitting down to eat. I turned my head, a frown creasing my brow because the way she said it was as if she knew me.
“Oh, My, Goodness, it is you,” said this very beautiful redhead, who looked vaguely familiar. My curious eyes took in her flaming red hair, sweet pretty features, and a Cupid’s bow mouth, but my mind came up empty and I couldn’t quite place her. Taking in the rest of my group I saw uncertainty flash through her eyes. “You are Sawyer Wild, yes? You don’t remember me?”
“I’d definitely remember you, sweetheart,” Wiggy chipped in with a leering tone. Turning toward him, I scowled, my lips pressed in a line of frustration, my narrow eyes warning him to knock it the fuck off. Taking my hint he dropped his gaze to his flatware, picked up a spoon and studied his reflection in the back of it.
Shoving my chair back, I stood knowing I knew her from somewhere, and felt slightly embarrassed I didn’t recall her name. For a moment I thought I’d fucked her, but something told me that wasn’t it, so I smiled slowly, looked sheepish, and shook my head.
“Forgive me, I meet so many people, it’s hard to keep track sometimes,” I answered, honestly.
“Antonia Bennett?” she asked, and my eyes widened in sudden recognition.
“Fuck, Toni?” I questioned, already knowing it was her. Of course it’s her. Toni’s father and mine were joint CEOs of a Fortune 500 company, but I hadn’t seen her since she was about fourteen years old.
Last I’d heard she had gone to a Swiss finishing school, but by then I’d grown up, left home, and was living with Charlotte. Toni was a couple of years younger, but we’d once spent a family summer at my father’s’ luxury cabin on Lake Tahoe’s north shore.
“Have you eaten?” she asked, glancing down at the table we had been seated at, which was only big enough for four people. Taking one look at the guys, I shook my head. “Just got into town, we were grabbing a bite before bed. You?” I asked, already knowing the answer. My mind raced because Toni was a very refined girl when I knew her, and the last thing I had wanted was more crass remarks from Wiggy toward her.
“No, I’ve been here since yesterday, my meeting was postponed until tomorrow and I was going stir-crazy. I hate eating alone, but I forced myself down here at the risk of going mad otherwise.”
Turning to the guys I began to introduce them, but I had already decided in my head we’d ask for another table to talk. There was no way I wanted to catch up with her in front of them for several reasons; they’d have no clue who we were talking about, Wiggy’s unpredictability, and the wealth aspect that may have crept into the conversation. The guys knew I came from money, but I was the last to thrust the extent of this in their faces.
“These are my bandmates, Hammer, Strings, and Wiggy.
Wiggy had been about to stand up and Hammer tugged on his jacket. “Stay.” I smirked at Hammer’s order.
“If you guys don’t mind, I’ll grab another table for Toni and I, we’ve got a decade or more to catch up on.” Without waiting for a reply, I waved the waiter who’d brought us some drinks over and asked him to seat Toni and me somewhere else.
Once seated, she grinned sweetly and I remembered her pretty face from all those years ago. I recalled she’d had an infectious laugh back then too. “So, a band, huh? I always thought you were a rock star,” she stated, confidence positively oozing from her.
“Yeah,” I chuckled. “Not so much a star as a musician. It’s always been about music, not fame.”
She nodded, grabbing the pitcher of ice water from the table and pouring herself a glass.
“I swooned when you sang at Lake Tahoe,” she admitted, and I chuckled. I must have been all of sixteen when I last sang in front of her. “I had a huge crush on you back then.”
My eyes widened. “You did?” I replied, playfully.
“You’re even better looking now than you were back then.”
“I’m also very married these days,” I stated, proudly waving my hand with my shiny gold band on it.
“Pity,” she replied, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table, which was totally against the normal etiquette for a girl of her standing.
