Page 62 of Before Eve
“I’m not, okay?” Although I am.
“No, it’s not okay.” He shoves to his feet. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why won’t you just talk to me?”
I clench my jaw against the tears pushing at me from within.
“Is it about your back? I don’t care. Do you hear me?”
Sucking in a breath, I cover my face with my hands so I don’t have to look at his pain.
“I don’t care,” he repeats. “Just talk to me.”
His voice, his words, they pull at me, but I shake my head and groan. “Just go away.”
“Fuck,” he hisses, and I wince. “I don’t need this shit.” With that, he walks away, and something deep inside of me aches with each step he takes.
He’s doing what I asked, but way down deep, I wish he would’ve just pulled me into his arms and insisted everything’s going to be okay.
CHAPTER 32
December arrives.West hasn’t said a word to me. He hasn’t looked at me, texted, or anything, and with every silent moment, the knot of anxiety in my stomach grows.
“All yours,” Ford says.
I cock my right ear toward the stage, listening closely, then reach with my left hand to adjust the mid-range on the equalization rack. Ford gives an affirmative nod that brings me a swell of pride. This is the first song he’s let me mix since shadowing him.
Taking a step back, I survey the Minneapolis crowd. With as much as it’s snowing out, I’m surprised so many people showed up.
The set ends, and into his mike, West says, “We’re going to do a little something different tonight. Two very special girls are turning eight tomorrow. Can I have Lexi and Maya on stage?”
The place goes wild as spotlights crisscross the crowd. Over to the left, I catch sight of a security guard escorting two little girls down the aisle.
Ford says, “Those are my buddy’s kids.”
“Ford…how unbelievably sweet of you.”
He jokingly waves me off. “Just don’t tell anyone.”
I turn back to the twin girls walking on stage. I’ve never felt comfortable around children, well, except for West’s niece, Maria. Truthfully, I’m scared I’ll slip up and treat them the same way I was treated.
West was great with Maria. Playful. Funny. A pang hits me at that thought. His whole family was great. Man, did I royally screw that up.
He takes their little hands and leads them over to two stools already set up on stage. He and Simon help them climb up, and then West gets down on one knee. Every girl in the house screams. His image flashes onto the giant screens, and my belly does a slow roll. He’s dressed for rock in black jeans and a black T-shirt. With his dark, spiky hair and tan skin, he oozes sexiness.
In his liquid voice, he sings the twins “Happy Birthday,” and the entire venue joins in. The two little girls have perma-grins that they’ll probably have the rest of the week. Heck, the rest of their lives.
The song ends, and he gives them each a kiss on the cheek. The girls in the audience scream and scream and scream some more. I know all too well what a kiss on the cheek from West Wolf feels like, and remembering it makes me all kinds of sorry.
Sorry for everything.
Ford stretches his fingers across the sliding bars, transitioning them into the last song of the evening. The encore comes and goes, people clear out, and a couple approaches the sound area with the birthday twins.
“That was incredible!” the couple screams in unison.
“Glad you liked it.” Ford looks at the twins. “What’d you all think?”
Still with their perma-grins, they enthusiastically nod.
Ford turns to me. “This is Eve. She works on the sound crew. She’s going to take you backstage to meet everybody.”
