“I’m sorry, I wasn’t finished with my question,” Number eight says.
“That’s not my problem.” Number eight sighs, but doesn’t sit back down.
“Layla, will you and your daughter be visiting or moving to Beaumont now that it’s been revealed that Liam Page is her father?”
“Are you f –”
“Liam Page is not the father of my daughter. My daughter and her dad have a very good relationship. He’s very active in her life and always has been. This is the last time I’ll discuss this with anyone so I suggest each and every one of you print it clearly.”
I want to applaud Layla for standing up for me and to the reporters, but I’m so fucking pissed off I can’t see straight. My recovery time is nil as the next number is called.
“Number eleven.”
“What’s the best part about performing and recording music?”
Yet again, Lem starts speaking before Layla can and all four of us turn to stare at him. He clearly doesn’t care because he’s rattling off a diatribe about his life. By the time he’s finished, we’ve all forgotten the question.
“Number twenty-two.”
“Liam, how does your wife feel about you being here rekindling old friendships while she’s at home preparing for your new arrival?”
That question gets the reporters riled up and they start firing off questions right and left. It’s not a secret we’re adopting, but it isn’t exactly public knowledge either.
“My wife is fine. Our son is playing in some very important baseball games right now, so she stayed home with him,” I say, dodging the question about the new arrival.
“And the baby?”
“At the moment, my wife isn’t pregnant.” I leave it at that, hoping they get the hint.
I refill my water glass, wishing it was something stronger. I’m starting to get agitated and wonder if Moreno set this shit up on purpose to prove that we need someone like him. Yet again, I find myself suddenly missing Sam because if she were here, then it would be guaranteed a few of these questions wouldn’t be asked.
“Number six.”
“Liam, I’ve read the biography by Calista Jones and am wondering how it feels to have your lover’s personal diaries made public?”
“Fuck this shit,” I mumble under my breath. “Do you really want to know?”
All the reporters nod. Assholes.
“Anything you read from Sam Moreno should be taken with a grain of salt. She was mentally unstable and in need of psychiatric care. We took her and Moreno Entertainment to court for a restraining order, which Mr. Moreno is hell bent on breaking... repeatedly. This Calista Jones wrote a book without my authorization and if I could sue the shit out of her I would. Are you out there, Calista?”
To my surprise a woman stands up. “I am.”
“Perfect, do you have any other intrusive questions for me or are we done here?”
“I actually have one.” It’s Mr. Moreno who steps forward. “You just made a comment about my daughter, one that I find very offensive, to say the least. Are you honestly going to say that you weren’t in love with her?”
I slam my hands down on the table and stand up. “Never have I said I was in love with Sam. I don’t give a shit what she put in her diary. Even this long after her death, I’m still finding out about all of the dishonest things she’s done or said. She lied about being pregnant and she kept my son away from me, or was that you? Your daughter was sick, and when she didn’t get her way, she wreaked havoc on anyone in her path. If I was so in love with your daughter, I wouldn’t have tattooed another woman’s name across my chest for her to see every day.”
I pause and rest on my hands, catching my breath before looking back at the reporters. “I don’t think you understand the damage you can do to someone’s life. You take your fucking pictures and make up your shitty headlines just to cause problems. You use computer programs to manipulate images into something they’re not, and laugh your asses to the banks while lives and marriages are destroyed. You want to write that I’m a pig because I hugged a fucking friend who I hadn’t seen in ten years, and that I’m cheating on my wife… look in the fucking mirrors and ask yourself if you’re a decent human being. I’m here to tell you, you’re not.
“Do you want to know why we left LA? So we could raise our kids without the likes of you assholes looming around us. I’m so fucking done.”
I walk away and can hear footsteps behind me. As soon as I’m in the green room the lamp closest to the door is flying across the room, shattering into a million pieces. The door shuts, and when I look behind me it’s Harrison and JD.
“I’m sorry,” I say, running my hands over my face. “I lost it and you’ll be the ones to suffer in the end.” I wouldn’t be surprised if they ditch me for another band. I’m hotheaded and my temper sucks. Families should be off-limits, but they’re not, and mine is going to be paying dearly because of that fact.
“You were right to get up and leave,” Harrison says, as he sits down.
I shake my head and sigh. “I shouldn’t have said that shit about Sam, even if it is true.”
“She brings out the worst in ya, mate.”
“The thing is, she wasn’t always like that. I did that to her. All she wanted to do was love me and make me this big star, but I was so fucking hung up on my mistakes and my past that I refused to let her in. When I did, it was for sex because she was easy. I knew she wanted me and I led her on repeatedly.”
A knock on the door stops me from speaking. JD answers it, and Calista Jones is standing on the other side.
“Sorry darlin’, I’m pretty sure that anything you have to say is going to result in a no comment from us. Move along, now.” JD tries to shut the door but her hand stops it.
“I think you should listen to what I have to say.”
“Alright, we’re all ears. Say your peace, then be on your way,” JD instructs.
“I’d like to speak privately with Liam.”
“Nice try, but that ain’t gonna happen, love,” JD says, clearly in control of the room right now.
“Fine,” she says, straightening her suit jacket. “Mr. Page, I’ve done nothing wrong. The diaries were sent to me, along with a list of people I should contact about you. Your threat to sue me has not fallen on deaf ears but I must warn you... if you do pursue legal action, I’ll publish Sam’s diaries in full and I don’t think you want that.”
“Are you threatening me?” I ask, as I step forward.
“No more than you are threatening me. Let’s call it an impasse, shall we?”
She turns on her heels and leaves, closing the door behind her. My mouth hangs open and while I’m tempted to call bullshit, I know she’s not bluffing. Who knows what the fuck Sam said in her diaries? One thing I know for certain is that I don’t want to have to defend myself for the rest of my life. I’ve already had enough.
I dial his phone repeatedly. It rings eight times before going to voicemail. He’s either not near it, or just doesn’t want to answer it. At least I can take comfort in knowing that he isn’t declining my calls. Before I give up, I leave him a message telling him that I love him and that we need to talk as soon as possible. I know he’ll be able to hear the distress in my voice, and pray that his love for me is just as strong as mine is for him so that no matter what’s going on, he’ll be honest with me.
Bianca and Noah are sitting in the family room when I come out. Noah’s going to suspect that something is going on and I’ll have to get creative with my answers to his probing questions when he asks them. The fact is, I won’t know what’s going on until Liam calls.
The sound of my voice echoes from the television, causing Noah to laugh. “What on earth are you watching?”
“Your DVD’s,” Bianca says, handing me a cup of tea. “Sit down, he’ll call soon.”