The Girl in the Mirror (Sand & Fog #3) (34 page)

Chatter. Chatter. Why don’t they shut up?

They’ve made their point.

I know why they’re here.

No need to ruin this night for me.

Krystal’s worked so hard for this.

Damn it, she’s my wife. Have some respect here.

The second she’s on stage, I whisper into the microphone on my wrist, “Can’t you just leave me alone and be quiet until this is over?”

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were such a fan of ballet.”

“Fuck you, Bray.”

More laughter, but it melts, and thankfully, there’s silence after that. Slowly, I release my tension and am held captive by the mesmerizing picture that is my wife on stage.

Oh God, Krystal is killing it.

I’ve never seen her look more beautiful, more self-possessed or seductive than she does now. I’ve never seen her dance this way. The tech week performances can’t compare to this. Maybe it’s having a live audience. Maybe it’s her family being here, but she’s leaving it all on the stage.

Transfixed, the minutes pass, hover filled only with her, then the thunderous applause pulls me from my stupor right before she flings herself into my arms for a fast embrace.

“Did you see me?”

“Oh, babe, I couldn’t see anything else.”

She kisses me, fast and passionately, before fluttering away back onto the stage. I peek out at the audience. On their feet. Deafening applause.

Milo—fuck him—goes out onto the stage, the clapping intensifies, and he kisses Krystal’s hand as he sets a large bouquet of roses in her arms.

Leg stretch, toe point, and in graceful elegant moves he guides her off stage as the curtain lowers.

Fuck, they exited stage right.

When the hell did they make this change?

I hightail it down to the hallway behind the stage packed with dancers, weaving through them toward her dressing room. I hear applause from the corps. I spot Krystal moving quickly twenty feet ahead of me.

I race to catch her.

Door closes.

Oh fuck, Graham Carson sidesteps to stand in front of the door, blocking my entrance.

“The family’s in there,” he says. “You can give them a moment alone, can’t you? It’s a big night for them. She is their daughter.”

It’s a big night for my family
—but I don’t say it.

No point.

They’re going to fuck with me until they deal with me.

I get it.

It’s how these guys operated in Pacific Palisades.

I know I deserve it.

I collapse back against the wall. Damn it, I want only a few minutes alone with my wife, to tell her how spectacular she was and to say “I love you.” This is ridiculous.

I shift my gaze to Graham.

Who does he think he is?

One of Alan’s four horsemen of the apocalypse; stupid question.

I face Graham. “Listen—”

Those steely gray eyes silence me.

“Did you know when Alan first started taking the kids on the road, he entrusted his daughters to me to protect? An enormous compliment. He trusted me with the most important people in his life. Those girls are like my own daughters. I’ve known Krystal since she was this high.” He slowly lowers his palm, facing the floor, to mid-thigh level. “Duty. Loyalty. Service and
family
aren’t just words for me. They’re the tenets I live by. They’re Alan’s, too. You’re not needed here, kid. Go to the lobby. Dillon’s waiting for you.”

I stare at him, mouth gaping.

Like that, he thinks he’s going to give me the brush-off and order me away. Family? Whether the Black Star employees like it or not—whether Alan likes it or not—I’m family.

I have every right to be in Krystal’s dressing room.

Why the hell am I walking in the direction Graham instructed me to?

The second I step into the theater lobby, Dillon and Brayden intercept me.

“You’re riding in my car,” Dillon announces bluntly.

I shove my hands deep into my pockets and count to ten in my head. I slowly exhale. “Am I allowed to ask where?”

Dillon chuckles lightheartedly. “Central Park West.”

The location of Alan’s New York penthouse.

OK, not with my wife, but along for the ride.

I can put up with this a little while longer.

Brayden frowns. “Jeez, you’re jumpy. Where did you think we were going?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. A deserted spot on the Hudson.”

They both erupt in laughter.

I shake my head, a reluctant smile rising. Crap, that sounded idiotic. I need to get a grip. They’re only messing with me.

“She nailed it, didn’t she?” I ask, my pride over her fighting to get out, even here, with them.

“I don’t know anything about ballet, but she was pretty incredible to me,” Dillon says, surprisingly affable.

I smile. “You wouldn’t believe how hard she works. Ten hours a day, minimum, seven days a week to make that look effortless. Her parents have a lot to be proud of.”

“Extraordinary girl,” Brayden replies with uncustomary seriousness.

“Most amazing woman I’ve ever known,” I say before I can stop myself. Out of the corner of my eye I see Dillon shake his head, and I tense again.

We stay in the lobby, making idle chitchat until there’s no one left in the building. In my ear, I hear, “We’re moving,” from Graham Carson.

I rapidly scan the room. No sight of Krystal. Moving. Where are they moving her to?

A slap on my back.

I turn and find Dillon. “Come on. Let’s head for the car.”

Car? But she’s not here yet.

Fuck.

I follow them out.

Dillon points. “You’re riding in the back with me.”

He disappears inside the vehicle and I climb into the SUV as Brayden takes shotgun next to the driver. Three cars. One ahead. One that must be intended for the family. And the one I’m in to follow.

Great, fucking great.

I ignore the talk in the car as I rapidly search the pavement from the theater doors to the waiting limo. The doors open. Graham Carson followed by Krystal’s enormous family. Camera flashes from every direction from the waiting press. Hell, I can’t even see her in the pack moving toward the street.

Jackson Parker and his wife, Linda.

Alan.

Chrissie.

Kaley.

Bobby.

The twins.

My eyes lock on Krystal smiling at her sister Khloe, then she’s gone into the waiting SUV.

The vehicles merge into the slow-moving traffic. Thirty minutes of weaving streets later, we’re in Central Park West. The SUV stops parallel to an opening to an underground garage.

I stare down as Krystal and her family alight the vehicle.

The metal security gate lowers.

“All clear. You guys can head out,” I hear Graham Carson say.

Head out?

WTF?

I lean over the seat, facing the driver. “Stop the vehicle. I’m getting out.”

Dillon’s gaze shifts to me. “No, Jake. You’re not.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t keep me in this SUV against my will.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” Dillon says calmly. “But you fucked up, Jake. You’ve got one direction to go to make it better. The direction this vehicle is going. Sit back. Shut up. This is going to be a long night.”

After two hours of driving in silence, the vehicle pulls to a stop. I look out the window. What is this? They took me to a nightclub?

“Come on, Jake,” Brayden says without looking at me before he levers his body from the passenger seat.

My door opens. “What the hell are you guys doing? Ha, ha, ha. You’ve had your joke. You’ve messed with my head. Can we all just fucking stop this?”

Dillon says, “Get out.”

I roll my eyes, letting my irritation show. “Fine. Can I go home after this? You’ve had your fun at my expense. This is nuts.”

They bypass the long line at the door and are waved through by the bouncer. It’s packed. Strobe lights, loud music. Bodies everywhere. Three floors. Enormous monitors. Exactly the kind of place Krystal and I never go, and I didn’t go before her. A chic, trendy watering hole for the fast crowd.

“You ever been to The Blue Light?” Dillon asks above the ear-piercing sound.

“No, I haven’t.”

He smiles. “It’s Alan’s favorite club in Manhattan.”

My stomach drops.

Oh, fuck me.

Through a crush of bodies, I see them.

On a giant blue velvet U-shaped sofa.

Drinking and laughing

Alan, Graham Carson, Jared, Jamal, Bobby Rowan, Ethan and Eric Manzone—what the fuck, they let teenagers in here?—and none other than Jackson Parker. Oh shit, it’s like doom and who’s who in the music industry assembled as a fuck me squad.

Alan’s mesmerizing, penetrating black eyes lock on me, and I can hardly feel my legs the last few steps toward them.

Graham breaks off from talking to Jack and says, “Sit down. We saved you a seat, kid.”

Reluctantly, I do as instructed, but really, I don’t know why I’m still going along with this.

Alan fills a shot glass and shoves it across a low table to me. He doesn’t talk, but he doesn’t need to. It feels like I’ve been dropped in boiling oil.

“Take the drink,” Jared says, leaning forward, elbow on knees. I down the shot. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Yeah, I got a pretty clear idea.”

They all laugh, ratcheting up my tension.

“You’re fired,” Jared says without aplomb and I shrug because there’s nothing really to say, but hell, I’m sure this is the weirdest termination in the history of employee terminations. Maybe someday I’ll laugh over this. Right now, it’s awful and humiliating.

I wish they’d all stop staring at me.

“Do you have anything to say to me?” Alan asks suavely.

I shift my gaze to Alan. Crap, no words forming. I speak without thinking. “I’m sorry. No, wait. That’s not true. I’m not sorry. What do you want me to say? I’m in love with your daughter. We’re married. And that’s how it is. Get used to it.”

He smiles, half snarl and half I don’t know what, an expression I’ve seen a thousand times in glossy magazines. “There isn’t much Chrissie and I don’t know about our kids, but I’ve got to admit, this surprised me when Jared brought it to me two months ago. How long you kept it from us disappointed me. Krystal’s always been such a level-headed girl. There’s only one thing I can say about that…”

He lets his words trail off and every muscle in my body becomes a coiled spring.

“You can either be a man or a fuckup. No one can make you a fuckup unless you’re willing. Don’t be a fuckup.”

Oh shit.

What the hell does that mean?

“I’m sorry. I’m not following what’s happening here,” I manage to say through the pulsing muscles of my throat.

“It’s a family thing,” Jackson Parker explains, raking his silver hair from his face as he fixes his brilliant blue eyes on me. “It had to be said. Tradition. Right, Bobby?”

Bobby Rowan nods, jutting his chin. “The don’t-be-a-fuckup speech. A must in this circumstance.”

They’re all nodding as if that makes sense, but it’s unnerving. Like they get what’s happening here and I’m still in the dark.

I start to speak to Alan, but he cuts me off. “Sorry about firing you. It had to be done so we could welcome you to the family, Jacob,” he says before throwing back his head and letting out his thundering raspy laughter.

What?

In a second Dillon’s slapping me on the back.

Bobby Rowan leans into me as he refills my glass. “Alan’s been itching to fuck with someone since I eloped with Kaley.”

Graham Carson looks at me. “Gotcha, kid.”

Alan’s smile is happy and amused. “Let’s party. I haven’t been to a bachelor party since I married Chrissie. And fuck it. Who cares if you’ve been married over a year? We’re having a party.”

“Krystal”

“You were brilliant tonight on stage. Your mum cried from the moment the curtain went up. She squeezed my hand so hard I may never play guitar again. We both kept saying, ‘That can’t be our daughter. When did Krystal grow up?’”

I whirl from the concrete wall to find my dad standing on the terrace. “Are you proud of me, Daddy?”

Alan smiles. “Proud doesn’t touch it, baby girl.”

I nod, battling back my tears. “You’re not disappointed in me, are you?”

He laughs, sinking down on a chaise in a loose-limbed way. “Disappointed? No. Hurt?” He makes a small space with his thumb and index finger. “A little. To find out from Jared my daughter got married. Yes, that hurt. You and Kaley.” He does an affectionate growl. “Two peas in a pod, for all you both go on that you’re nothing alike. You seem very alike to me. When are you girls going to learn you can tell me anything?”

His expression brings home how wrong I’ve been to Alan—to both my parents. I settle on his lounger facing him, one leg tucked beneath me.

“Before we got married, Jacob wanted to tell you and I didn’t. I thought you wouldn’t approve and I didn’t want you to try and stop us. After we got married”—I crinkle my nose—“I think he felt bad and didn’t know how to tell you. He thinks a lot of you, Dad. Really respects you. It was my fault we didn’t tell you before, but he was the one who felt badly we didn’t. Then I think it took so long because we didn’t know how to fix it. Neither of us wanted you to be angry or disappointed.”

Alan shakes his head at me. “There’s only one thing Chrissie and I want for any of you kids: to be happy. Nothing else in life matters, love. Are you happy, Krystal?”

My smile comes quick and full. “Very happy, Dad. I love him. He’s a good man. I’m the lucky one. Not Jacob.”

Alan nods, his mouth scrunching up. “Then we’re happy for you, sunshine. That’s all you ever had to say and we would have welcomed him into the family.”

“You’re not going to do anything terrible to him, are you?”

He laughs. “No, of course not. But I need to have a talk with my new son-in-law man to man. We need an understanding between us. My expectations of him and what he can expect from me. That’s all I’m going to do tonight, baby girl.”

I alertly search my dad’s face, not sure if I should believe that. Separating us—not good. Having the security guys give Jacob a bad time. Alan’s up to something. I can feel it.

“Don’t be mean to him. Jacob doesn’t know it’s show.”