Ripped: The Price of Loyalty by Tania Joyce
Chapter 21
London, Los Angles, San Francisco, Chicago, Miami, and now, after three weeks, Kyle arrived back in New York with Gemma and Hunter for the last night of their promotional tour—a live outdoor performance at the Rockefeller Centre. At the lunchtime rehearsal, Kyle picked his bass guitar off the rack and headed over to his mic. He waved to the screaming fans hanging out the windows and standing on the balconies of the surrounding buildings, and those already filling up the area in front of the stage.
Kyle adjusted his mic. The Late Night Show production crew and technicians, and Everhide’s backup band and support team were all in position for the final run-through. All except Hunter and Gemma.
A loud laugh caught his attention, and he turned. Gemma and Hunter strolled toward the front of the stage, play punching each other in the arm. Halfway across the stage, Hunter grabbed Gemma in a headlock and ruffled her hair. She squealed and tickled him in the ribs.
Kyle twisted the microphone stand between his hands and stretched his neck from side to side to release the tension. But it didn’t work. Because over the past three weeks during every performance, every show, and every interview, Kyle’s suspicions about the relationship between Gemma and Hunter grew. It simmered through his veins like a slow-release toxin infecting his body.
He shouldn’t be worrying. Gemma spent every night in his bed. But he didn’t know how to get rid of the jealousy. He’d never seen Gemma and Hunter get along so well. They’d written some new incredible songs together, they were more affectionate toward each other than they’d ever been, and the hardest thing not to notice were the looks that they exchanged.
“You guys done?” Kyle’s sharp and acidic tone slid through his gritted teeth.
With a final smack on her butt, Hunter released Gemma from his headlock.
“Yea-p.” Gemma tied her hair up with her hairband and hooked her guitar strap over her head.
Hunter’s lip twitched, and he jutted his chin in Kyle’s direction. “What’s wrong with you, bud?” He grabbed his guitar and headed to his mic. He ran his hand down the neck of the guitar, filling the air with the electric twang.
“Nothing.” Kyle tugged on the cord of his in-ear monitors.
But everything was wrong. Why couldn’t Hunter keep his damn hands off Gemma?
“Good. Let’s get rehearsal over with.” Hunter turned to his mic, circled his finger in the air, and cued their backup band behind him.
Lights shone, cameras moved, and production crew flitted about. The music intro of “Black Book”, the third song Everhide were going to sing tonight, filled Kyle’s in-ears. He adjusted his guitar strap on his shoulder and stamped his foot on his phaser, and Hunter sang.
I’ve got a little black book,
Full of all the girls that I know,
But you’re on top of the list,
You’re what I need when I’m feeling low.
I’m looking for a good time, don’t need a long time.
I’m looking for a good time, don’t need a long time.
The three of them hit perfect harmony in the chorus.
I wanna call you,
Come on over.
No need for small talk,
Coz you know what I’m after.
Let’s hit the bedsheets,
Wanna make you sweat beneath me.
Wanna make love to you all night,
Until the morning light.
You’re the fix that I need,
Until I just can’t breathe.
Oh baby, you’re what I need.
I need.
Need right now.
Then Gemma’s voice took over the stage.
I’ve got a little black book,
Of all the boys I could ring.
But you’re on top of the list,
Just you is all you need to bring.
I’m looking for a good time, don’t need a long time.
I’m looking for a good time, don’t need a long time.
Kyle loved singing this fun, flirtatious song, but then he looked up and saw Hunter staring right at Gemma, as if she was the only one in the world. Kyle’s heart faltered. Nausea flooded his belly.
Fuck.
Hunter was still into Gemma. Was she still into him?
Kyle clenched his jaw and gripped the neck of his guitar until his knuckles ached.
Gemma was his. Not Hunter’s.
His.
Kyle caught sight of Amie, her icy eyes glaring in Hunter’s direction. Her arms were folded tightly across the front of her chest. Had she noticed the vibe between Hunter and Gemma, too?
Then, the strangest thing happened. Gemma missed her high note.
He swung around. She never missed a note. She coughed, touched her throat, but kept on singing.
Then, she missed the cue to change positions with him.
“Cut.” Kyle sliced his hand in front of his throat, pulled his guitar off, and strode over to her side.
“What’s eating you? We’ve played this song one million, five hundred and seventy-three thousand, four hundred and twenty-three times.”
“Four . . . I’ve played this song one million, five hundred and seventy-three thousand, four hundred and twenty-four times.”
“Then what’s your problem?” His voice went up several notches.
Gemma’s eyes darted around the stage, landing on the musicians eager to get on with rehearsal. She looked at Hunter, then at her feet, rocking from side to side on her Vans.
She lifted her chin, her brow furrowed, and anguish crept across her face.
He stepped in closer to her, turning his back on everyone else, and lowered his voice. “Gem, what’s going on?” Afraid of the truth, his throat constricted, as if someone had seized him around his jugular and started to squeeze.
She raised her chin and stared at him. “It’s my mother.”
“So why were you goofing around with Hunt before?”
“What?” Confusion flashed across her face. Then she groaned, reached inside her jeans pocket, and pulled out her vibrating cell phone. She showed him the caller ID. Janine.
“I should’ve turned the damn thing off. She’s been calling and I’ve tried to ignore her, but she hasn’t let up.” She winced. “I’m sorry. Give me five minutes, and I’ll give her a quick call to make sure it’s not an emergency.”
Kyle shuddered, hating himself for thinking the worst. He had to find a way to kill his jealousy issues with Hunter before it caused problems. “Want some support?”
“That’d be nice.” She put down her guitar, walked over to the side of the stage and stood in behind the tower of speakers.
Hunter strode over. “What’s up?”
Kyle raised his finger. “Stay out of it. Gem needs a quick break.” The more distance he could keep between the two of them, the better. “Five minutes,” Kyle called to the crew and band who replied with mumbles and grumbles.
Hunter jerked his chin in Gemma’s direction. “What’s bothering her?”
“Something about Janine. I’ll get to the bottom of it.” Kyle left Hunter standing in the middle of the stage with the crowd of screaming fans and rushed over to join Gemma.
“Hey Mom. I’m in the middle of rehearsal.” Gemma swiped her phone onto speaker so he could hear when he reached her side. “Why have you been calling?” She picked and scratched at the fragile sticker on the equipment trunk near the speakers. “Is there an emergency?”
Kyle leaned in to listen. The crowd out the front of the stage was loud, but it sounded like Janine was in the middle of a party.
“Yes, it’s an emergency.” Janine’s hysterical voice wailed from Gemma’s cell phone. “Are you with Kyle? I saw the photos.”
Kyle winced, and his chest constricted.
“Are you shitting me?” Gemma collapsed against the speaker tower and rubbed her eyes. “I’ve walked away from rehearsal thinking there’s an emergency, but all you want is gossip. For fuck’s sake, Mom. I don’t know what photos you’re talking about.”
“The ones of the two of you in Miami,” Janine said. “At a restaurant and then walking down the street. Kyle’s got his arm around you.”
Gemma’s hand trembled. Her eyes, hooded with worry, locked onto his.
Kyle’s throat ran dry. He remembered after their final show in Miami, all the band—Amie, Kate, Bec, and half a dozen others, had dinner at Estefan Kitchen, drank too much, and had to be escorted down the street to their car by their security team. The photographers. The flashlights. Concerned for Gemma’s safety in all the jostle, Kyle had put his arm around Gemma.
“Shit,” Gemma mouthed and rubbed her brow. “There’s nothing to tell, Mom.”
Kyle’s stomach flipped at hearing another lie. The lies they told everyone kept on getting bigger and deeper . . . and more believable. Some days he and Gemma lived the lie more than they spent time together, and he was finding it harder to shift between the two.
The distinct pop of a champagne bottle blasted through Gemma’s phone.
“Where are you, Mom?”
“I’m in Nice, having a late dinner with a bunch of girlfriends.” Janine’s nasal laugh cackled down the phone. “Baby girl, is Kyle there? Maybe he’ll tell me what’s going on.”
“Janine, I am here. We are in the middle of a rehearsal.” Kyle gripped the side of the stack of speakers to steady himself and his voice. “Gemma’s not dating anyone. We have to go. Is there any other reason for your call?”
Janine sighed heavily. Let out a long moan. And sighed again. Gemma rolled her eyes, clearly not impressed with her mother’s melodramatic ways. “Well . . . the main reason for my call is to let you know that . . . Victor and I are getting divorced. I filed the papers last week.”
“You what?” Kyle reached out and caught Gemma by the arm to steady her. “So is that why you’re having a party? You’re celebrating another divorce?”
“I see no need to wallow.” Janine said pompously.
“Yeah. You don’t sound upset. At all.” Gemma mumbled.
“Oh, you don’t know what it’s like being the mother of someone famous.” Janine’s woe-is-me tone caused a nerve to twang in the side of Kyle’s neck. “Victor hated all the attention.”
Gemma gripped onto her phone, her knuckles ghostly white. “Mom, you could easily go about unnoticed, but you’re the one who craves attention. I’ve seen you twice in the past two years; don’t blame me for screwing up your fourth marriage.”
“How can I not?” Her voice scaled upwards. “How am I going to find someone who’ll put up with you as my daughter? All the fame, the news—the celebrity life I constantly have to put up with.” Janine’s cruel innuendo raised Kyle’s blood pressure to boiling point.
“Janine, that’s enough,” he snapped. “Don’t talk to Gem like that. She’s done nothing wrong.”
“Oh, what would you know, Kyle?” He pictured her looking down the bridge of her nose at him.
“If you don’t like Gem’s life, stop calling her.”
“Oh no. I can’t do that. I’m her mother,” she gushed.
“Then act like one,” he snapped.
“Kyle, it’s okay.” Gemma’s face turned ashen. “Mom, I gotta go.”
Gemma hung up, and her eyes glassed over. Every muscle on her face hardened as if she’d injected Amie’s Botox. She swayed on her feet, slid to the ground, and sat staring at the stage floor.
Kyle squatted beside her. “Gem, this has to stop. I don’t like seeing you upset. I’m sorry I ever said to you in the past that you should keep in touch with her.”
“How can you say that after—”
The hollow in his chest flared. “My parents were nothing like your mom. Hunter’s aren’t or anyone else’s I know.”
“But what can I do? She’s my mom.”
“She may be by blood, but not by nature.”
“She makes me feel like shit.” Gemma wiped a tear from her cheek. “She rides off my fame, then blames me when things go wrong. Why? What have I ever done to her? Nothing I do is good enough for her. Whoever I’m with will never be good enough. She doesn’t care about me. She doesn’t want to be part of my life. Never has. All she wants to do is gossip and find the next man with a big wallet. How can you be with me knowing what she’s like?”
“Because I’ve known her for years, and I don’t care what she thinks. And I know it’s hard, but you need to do the same. She’s not worth it, Gem.”
“But she’s the only family I’ve got.”
“That’s not the way family treat each other.” Kyle said with a heaviness pressing against his chest. His parents had been full of love and kindness, supportive and respectful. Janine, on the other hand, possessed none of those qualities. “You’ve got me and Hunt. We’re your family. We’re the ones who count. And I’ll be here for you no matter what. I promise.”
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Now was probably not the best time to bring it up, but with all the lies being told he’d lost sight of the truth. He had to know what was going on with her and Hunter to put his own heart and mind at ease. “But Gem . . . are you having second thoughts? About me? I’ve seen the way you and Hunt have been acting over the past few weeks. Are you questioning being with me? Do you think you made a mistake? Do you still want him?”
“What? Don’t be stupid.”
“The two of you have been getting along so well, I thought—”
“We’re happy. He’s getting laid. And so am I.”
Kyle sucked air hard into his lungs, alleviating the ache lodged in his chest.
“You’re not jealous, are you?” Gemma reached out and stroked the side of his face. “Please don’t be. You’ve nothing to worry about. I’m yours.”
Kyle kissed the back of her hand. “That’s good to know.”
“You really need to talk to Hunt more,” Gemma said. “Isn’t it obvious? Hunt’s fallen for Amie in a big way. It’s strange to see him act like this. But I think he’s actually in love with her.”
“No way.” Kyle gasped.
“Yea-p.” Gemma nodded.
So that was what was wrong with Hunter. It explained a lot. The doe eyes. The stupid look on his face. The song lyrics. Kyle pulled his shoulders back and the huge dark cloud disappeared from around his head. He stood and pulled Gemma to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a hug.
“What was that for?” She clung to his shoulders.
“I love you.” Relief flooded through him at knowing his mind had concocted up his horrid superstitions. “And don’t worry about your mom. We’ll survive anything and everything together. Even her.”
The hairs on Kyle’s arm prickled. He turned to see Amie storm toward them.
“This is taking longer than five minutes.” Amie clapped her hands. “Time’s up. Back to it.”
“Sorry, it was my mom,” Gemma said, stepping out from behind the speakers.
“Oh, how sweet,” Amie said with a double dose of sarcasm. “Now, get back to rehearsal.”
Kyle followed Gemma back to their mics, but when Hunter gave Gemma a warm smile, the embers of his jealousy glowed bright. He wished there was something he could do to eradicate his insecurity over Gemma. He wanted to believe wholeheartedly she was his. What could he do to get rid of his fear of losing her? He wanted to show her he was fully committed. Buying her a ring was out, she didn’t believe in marriage. Not after her mother’s track record. Write her a song? Hell, he’d already written more than two hundred. What would put his mind at ease?
“Okay, lovebirds.” Amie stepped between Kyle and Gemma. “Whatever issues you have, get over them. This rehearsal has taken too long. Gemma, do you want to bring the song down a key if it’s a struggle?”
Gemma’s face reddened, and she shook her head with a short sharp jerk. “I can do it. You know I can. I just needed a minute.” She reached for her water bottle and downed the entire thing.
“Excellent,” Amie said. “I have to leave and go into the office for a quick meeting. So sort your shit out.” She turned to leave but stopped after taking one step. She clicked her fingers and swung around to face Gemma. “Don’t make plans after the show. When it finishes at around eight o’clock, I’d like to take you out to dinner. Just you and me.”
Dumbfounded, Kyle watched Amie walk off stage. The crowd was getting restless, eager for them to get on with their rehearsal.
“What the fuck is that all about?” Hunter held his arms wide and walked toward them from the back of the stage where he’d been waiting with the band. “What did Amie want?”
“I don’t know. You tell me?” Gemma threw Hunter an evil glare. “I hope she isn’t wanting to become my BFF just because you’re sleeping together.”
“I doubt it.” Hunter said. “Why? What did she want?”
“After the show . . . she wants to take me out to dinner. Why would she want to do that?”