Lori picked up on our exchange but chose to remain silent. Everyone around the table knew how hard it would be for me.
Oblivious to the underlying concern, Cannon jumped in and said, “Wow, that’s really nice of you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Yeah, guys. That is really nice. We look forward to it.” Lori replaced the concern with a gracious smile.
“Who said you’re invited?” Leila zinged her back, breaking the tension… and I’d never been prouder of my friend.
Chapter 3
Trey
After leaving the studio, I called my therapist and asked if he could squeeze me in for a session. Even though I’d just had one a few days ago, the party for Cannon had me feeling anxious. Getting through tonight would be difficult in so many ways. Granite had been our stomping ground for years, the place we partied, thus an ultimate temptation.
But Granite was also where we’d gotten our start in the New York City bar scene. It was all due to Hunter booking us to play there early in our careers that had many noticing our talent. The social hot spot was as big a part of my journey as moving to New York had been.
We celebrated birthdays and engagements there. We’d played for our closest friends and family before embarking on our first tour. At times, Jack and Leila would still arrange DL to play there for charitable organizations they supported.
Now that I was back with the band, I needed to reintegrate Granite into my life. In fact, living as a successful musician meant there would be plenty of triggers I’d have to deal with. Until now, not trusting myself had me shying away from party invites. Dr. Rutherford felt it was time. I had come a long way this past year, but I still had a long way to go. By the time I walked out of his office, I felt all talked out on the subject.
With the clock ticking down, and anxiety flapping hard in my gut, I forced myself to get ready for the party.
When my driver texted me that he had arrived, I locked up and headed down to the lobby. I was still trying to get used to not jumping on one of my bikes and taking off. I hadn’t ridden since… well, it’d been a long time. I wasn’t sure I could ever get myself on a motorcycle again. Just another hurdle during my recovery, and with so many that I faced I was mentally exhausted all the time.
“Good evening, Mr. Taylor.” Not in the mood to talk, I offered a wave to the new guy at the desk.
Just as I walked out the front doors, a woman stepped away from the wall and said, “Trey Taylor.” Before she went into full fan-girl mode, I nodded at her and quickened my step toward my waiting ride. “You don’t remember me,” she then said, pulling my attention back toward where she remained. Maybe it was her rigid stance or the way worry painted lines on her pretty face that had me stopping to study her. “Not that I expected you to.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m Camilla Deron. We met during a backstage meet and greet when your band played out on Jones Beach about seven years ago,” she added quietly while nervously fidgeting with the strap of her handbag. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember who she was. I wasn’t proud to say the women I’d hooked up with over the years had all become a faceless pack. But the more I stared at her, the more familiar she seemed. I think it was her dark-brown eyes, the kind any man could get lost in.
A sexy mass of mahogany waves, a petite curvy frame, and a perfectly pouty mouth, along with those eyes, made her a stunner.
She didn’t seem the type to gush over seeing a famous rock star. In fact, nothing about her screamed groupie. There was most definitely a commonality with all the women who obsessed over their musical crushes, and the most obvious was how they all spent hours trying to make it appear that they were naturally that put together.
Yet, from what I could make out in all of the sixty seconds since first seeing her, Camilla didn’t fit the mold in her comfortable jeans, basic white T-shirt, androgynous Chucks, and absence of heavy makeup.
She said nothing more during the time I analyzed her. We just stood there, sizing each other up—until Alec, my driver / security detail, exited the SUV and came toward us. “Everything okay here?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” I responded with my eyes still trained on her. On my admission, Alec moved away, but only slightly to hover near the curb.
After another long, tense span of time had passed, she finally spoke again. “I… um…” she said, only for her voice to crack as her deep-brown eyes desperately held on to mine. “I was hoping to run into you.”
“Do you live in this building?”
“Um… no.” She brought her attention back to me. “Actually, I live in Queens. I know you’re a busy man, and I hoped that maybe we could talk.” Her request meant this wasn’t a random encounter, which caused my hackles to rise.
“How did you find out where I lived?”
She didn’t answer but instead looked at me with a desperation that tugged at my conscience. “I know this looks strange, and I promise I’m not some wacko. But I do urgently need to talk to you.”
“Are you sick?” A very long pause had me convinced that was the case, until she slowly shook her head. Losing my patience, I said, “I’m sorry. I have to be somewhere.”
“Is there a time tomorrow when we can meet? Wherever you want. I’ll meet you at the police station if that would help any apprehensions you have.”
“Look… I really don’t know what this is about, but I don’t appreciate you ambushing me outside my home while being evasive and—”
“Okay,” she cut me off. “I understand.” When she reached into her bag, Alec lunged toward me, causing her to jump while raising both hands. “I promise, I mean no harm.” Once she was sure Alec believed her, she pulled out a thick envelope and held it out for me. “This explains everything. My contact information is inside. I just ask that you please call me.” The white paper package remained suspended between us until I took it from her hand. After one last pleading glance, she turned and walked down the street without looking back.
What the fuck just happened? My mind swam with questions while the envelope weighed heavily in my hand. And needing those answers forced me to release Alec.
“Do you want me to stick around a bit to be sure she won’t come back?”
“That’s not necessary. Apologize to Oscar for me,” I said before heading back up to my apartment.
The trek upstairs seemed to take for-fucking-ever. I didn’t even bother to shut my door before I tore into the envelope with shaky hands. The first thing I read caused my stomach to plummet into a free fall. The more I flipped through the papers before me, the more I felt my own throat closing in on itself.
The last thing in the packet was a photo of a stranger staring at me. I didn’t want this to be true—it couldn’t be. But the more I studied the picture, the more my gut churned, because the little girl who stared back at me had eyes exact to mine.
Hours had passed, yet I hadn’t moved from the chair I fell into. My phone once again buzzing in my pocket added a surge of guilt to the deluge of confusion plaguing me. Having ignored the first two calls and not wanting to continue to cause them concern, I answered the third call.