Deep (Stage Dive 4)

“What?”

He scratched at his beard. “Transferred money into your account today. It’s all done.”

“How did you get my account number?”

“Anne gave it to me. I think she meant it as a dare.”

My eyes felt wide as wide could be. “How much money?”

“Enough that you don’t have to worry for a while.”

“How long a while?”

He just stared at me.

Oh, whoa. Something told me a millionaire rock star’s version of a while was a whole lot longer than mine. The thought made me panicky, my fingers twisting together in my lap. Legal documents were scary, but the thought of him giving me masses of his money seemed even worse. “But lawyers and contracts and stuff. What you talked about this morning.”

“We’ll sort it out between us, like you wanted.” He seemed so calm, while I was anything but. “It’ll be okay, Liz.”

“That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in me.”

“We’re having a kid. We gotta start somewhere, right?”

There were scuff marks on my favorite boots. Quite a few of them. At least I wouldn’t be growing out of my shoes. My clothes, on the other hand, would probably need replacing before long. Most of my things were a little worn or were bought secondhand. Not as if I’d have been willing to ask Mal or Anne for a handout to fund a flashy new maternity wardrobe. They did so much for me already. It would be bizarre to not have to worry about money. We hadn’t grown up with much. I couldn’t really remember a time when money hadn’t been an issue.

“Right,” I mused.

“No big deal.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

“I appreciate you being willing to monetarily support us. That’s going to make a huge difference.” I told the floor, because looking at him seemed too hard just then. “It’s a real weight off my shoulders.”

“Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry about last night. And this morning. I’m just … I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Of course.” I smiled as bright as bright could be. “We’ll be friends for Bean’s sake.”

“Bean?”

My smile grew more genuine. “In the early stages they’re kind of bean shaped and sized.”

“Oh. Right.” His fingers lay laced in front of him, jiggling yet again. For a second, his gaze landed in the region of my belly before darting away again. “Give me a chance to catch up, get used to the idea. Then we’ll talk some more.”

“Okay.”

“And of course we’ll be friends,” he said. “We are friends.”

“Of course.”

He smiled back at me. But I don’t think either of us was feeling anything but fear just yet.

CHAPTER SEVEN

While the guys were down at the Chateau Marmont in L.A. being interviewed by Rolling Stone magazine, up in Portland a complete stranger was checking out my girl bits. The fancily framed medical degrees hanging on her office wall did nothing to detract from the awkwardness of where she put her gloved fingers.

Yep, going to the OB/GYN was just the best.

Everything with Bean was fine, by the way. And hearing her heartbeat for the first time rocked my world. She was real. This was real. I was actually going to be a mother. Amazing.

With the band touring and Ben’s ban from Mal and Anne’s apartment (also, I’m pretty sure he was avoiding me, despite all his fine words), it was a full four weeks after he filled my humble bank account to bursting before we laid eyes on each other again. It took that long for me to stop constantly barfing and to be given the go-ahead to travel. Due to having my head in the toilet, I’d missed out on Vancouver, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, and L.A. Anne and I met up with the band in Phoenix. We arrived near the end of their concert, having been delayed by a storm.

Sam met us and took us to the side of the stage to watch the encore. It was cool to see Stage Dive play live again. I was sitting on an empty box behind a massive screen that projected the happenings out to the stadium audience. I couldn’t see the people, but I could hear them. Roadies, set construction workers, and similar were also hanging out, waiting.

The minute the show was done, Mal attacked Anne. The man was all over her like a rash, rubbing his sweaty self against her and basically dry-humping in public. She didn’t seem to mind. We didn’t hang around, everyone heading straight to the hotel. Apparently any interviews and meet-and-greets were done before the show.

I got a welcoming chin tip from Ben, but that was it in the rush.

The line of luxury black Lexuses crawled to a stop as we neared the swanky hotel’s back entrance. Hands battered at the windows, people struggling to get close enough to press their faces up against the darkened glass.

It was freaky.

Dave and Ev were already inside, having been in the first vehicle. Ben, Lena, and Jimmy jumped out of the vehicle in front of us. Immediately, Lena and Jimmy hurried through the corridor made by security, into the safety of the hotel. But Ben delayed, signing autographs and shaking hands.

There were so many people out there. A veritable sea of women and men both, crying, screaming, and carrying on. I’d known how big the guys were, but knowing it and seeing it were two entirely different things. There were even TV crews among the mix, cameras catching it all.

“Shit,” I whispered, hunching down.

“Someone can’t keep a secret,” said Anne, sitting between Mal and me on the backseat.

Mal just shrugged. “Where we’re staying always gets out. This is the norm. Get used to it, ladies.”

A black-clad security person opened the door and the clamor hit me. It was staggering. A wall of mindless, maximum-volume, gray noise. Sweat wet my back but my mouth dried to nothing. Anne nudged me gently, nodding toward the door and the batshit-crazy crowd beyond. I swallowed hard and nodded back. Like it or not (not!), we were going out there. Generally, agoraphobia wasn’t much of an issue (or enochlophobia, if you want to get technical about it). It didn’t stop me from doing anything. Get me anywhere near a loud swarming mass of people, however, and I’m rarely at my best.

I cautiously stepped down, feeling my way across the concrete. All of the flashes from the cameras were dazzling my eyes.

Crap.

The crowd surged forward, closing in, and the line of security struggled to hold them back. People were yelling shit, none of it decipherable over the sound of my heartbeat pounding behind my ears. They were chanting a name, and from the shape of their lips, I’m pretty sure it was Mal’s.