“He wasn’t used to the attention?”
“Yeah. And some groupies took advantage of that. Guys like Gavin can spot manipulation, but Tyler’s too trusting. He’s easy to hurt.”
“He’s easy to love.” I shock myself and Beryl with this admission.
“That too. Do you love him?” Her eyes are wide and I look at my hands and fidget.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Does he know it?”
I shake my head. “No way. We’re not—we’re only just figuring each other out. We haven’t been intimate, exactly.” Is this a lie? The toe-curling orgasm and the shower that could have lasted forever were both intensely intimate.
Beryl catches my specific meaning: we haven’t had sex. She’s surprised and tries to lighten the mood. “Is that a new record for you?”
Shame and the word “easy” slither over me and I frown. Because, yeah, it is. And that totally sucks.
“He’s worth the wait, Stella,” Beryl says quietly, aware that she’s hurt my feelings.
The taxi pulls up to a brownstone and Beryl pays for the cab as I slide out. Before we walk up the steps to Kristina’s apartment, Beryl grabs my arm.
“Everything you felt after that director left you, every way that Blayde made you feel bad about yourself, all that’s behind you,” she tells me. “Tyler will be worth the wait.”
“Tell me what you think, if it matches your story.”
Violet pushes her laptop across the table and I stare at the photograph on the screen, angling it away from the Sunday brunch crowd at a cozy restaurant called Hearth.
The light in Tyler’s loft is golden, shining off the band’s sweat-slicked muscles and gleaming instruments. Each band member’s face is deep in concentration, their expressions absolutely immersed in their instruments.
I’m open-mouthed and panting slightly, drinking in every detail of the full-screen image. “If I hadn’t been there when you took this…”
I can almost hear the deep thrumming of Tyler’s bass chords as I look at the picture.
Violet smiles. “Do you think it will work?”
“Oh, hell yes. This is ferociously sexy, especially because it doesn’t look like they’re trying to be sexy. It looks like you got a sneak peek without them even realizing you were there.”
“Awesome. That’s what I wanted—something candid that didn’t look like another posed rock-god photo.”
I giggle. “But you’ve got to admit, those abs—”
“Yeah. I know. Some girls go for abs and some go for butts and legs, but I’m obsessed with shoulders. And biceps.” Violet takes a quick drink of her coffee as if she’s just admitted to something naughty.
“Anyone’s biceps in particular?” I raise my brows to tease her and Violet’s pale neck flushes with embarrassment.
“No. Stella, cut it out.” She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes closed, wisps of deep red hair escaping from her messy bun.
I push the laptop back across the table to Violet and sit back in my chair to give her space. I’ve touched a nerve, and we don’t have the history Beryl and I do for teasing. “Sorry.”
I wait.
“Violet, seriously, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d …”
What? Overreact to the slightest suggestion that she could be attracted to one of the guys? I’m pretty sure even eighty-year-old women find Tattoo Thief attractive.
Violet looks up at me with eyes lined with worry. The dark circles beneath them when I first met her are lighter, but not entirely gone beneath her translucent skin dusted with freckles.
Violet closes her laptop lid. “Let’s not go there, OK? I’ll send that picture and a couple more over to your editor tonight. And I brought your stuff.” She gestures to a bulky cloth bag at our feet.
“Thanks for schlepping that over here.” We’re not too far from the Lower East Side apartment she shares with Neil, and I’m curious. “So how do you know Neil?”
“Friend of a friend. I got a job teaching last September and had to move really quick, and his ex-boyfriend had just split.”
Ah, the lovely real estate cycle of New York relationships. I swear people are more freaked out about finding a new place than breaking up. I was when Blayde kicked me out. Maybe that’s why Neil and Violet took pity on me and let me crash in her room while she was gone.
“You’re a teacher?”
“Was.”
“What did you teach?”
Violet grimaces. “I wanted to do art education, but there’s not a lot of funding for that, and nothing full-time. So I also taught sex ed.”
I laugh. “That sounds like a blast. Did you have to show horny eighth graders how to roll a condom over a banana?”
Violet presses her lips together to hide a small smile and drops her voice. “My favorite question was, ‘What if you can’t find the hole?’”
I throw my head back and laugh, but Violet’s nodding. “True story, true story.”
“Wait. You said you were a teacher? What happened?”
“I got fired.”
I’m still laughing and I can’t rein it in. “For what? Explaining how to find the hole?”
Violet’s creamy complexion pales and she shakes her head, her eyes rimming with tears.
“Oh, God, Violet. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. That sucks. I’m sorry you got fired. You don’t have to—”
“Unprofessional conduct,” she whispers.
But she doesn’t reveal anything else. I’m curious, but I don’t want to push her. After the way Tyler pushed me yesterday, I understand acutely the need for space.
I haven’t touched alcohol since Tyler and I talked, even though I craved some hair of the dog yesterday afternoon. And I’m not ready to answer the real question: where is this going with Tyler?
That thought kept me awake long into last night as I tossed and turned on my air mattress.
“So, are you going to get a different teaching job or freelance more? Because you’re really good.” I offer Violet this compliment to lift the mood and because I mean it.
Violet snorts. “I doubt I can get a teaching job again. But I’ve always been into photography, so I’m giving this a shot. I was really grateful when Neil recommended me to your editor and you took a chance on me.”
“The nudes in your room are impressive,” I add. “Do you sell those?”
“I don’t do nudes anymore. I’m working on a different kind of project now.” Violet gives me a tentative smile. “It’s a secret.”
TWENTY-TWO
“You wanted sex. You got it.” I steel myself against Heath’s criticism as he glances over my story on his screen. I filed it an hour ago but had to wait for Heath’s reaction while most of my colleagues took off for Monday night happy hour specials.
I so need a drink right now. Even though I’m avoiding Tyler and the hardest part of our last conversation, I’m at least doing this for him. In case he asks. Which he hasn’t.
He’s hardly said more than a few words to me, just instructions for the premiere tomorrow night. I can’t believe he still wants me to go.
“It’s sexy, I’ll give you that. But where’s the conflict, Stella?” Heath asks.
I want to snap my fingers in front of my chest and say, “Eyes up here, buddy,” but instead I cross my arms over the small amount of cleavage he can see. “I think the conflict is in building the song, the different ways each member of the band wants to take it.”
I wait for Heath’s reaction as he scans my story again. It’s not the breathless scandal he’s asked for. Repeatedly.