Never Enough (4 page)
She shook her head. “ ’Course not! You play Monopoly with me and you remember my favorite stuff. I know it’s dumb to be worried. But sometimes my stomach won’t listen.”
He hugged her tight. “It’s okay, you know. To feel worried or scared. That’s only natural. But I want you to know you can always talk to me. Call me if I’m not here, e-mail me, text me, whatever. I love you something fierce. As do your mom and dad and Aunt Erin and Todd and Ben, Aunt Ella and Uncle Cope too. And don’t forget about Alexander. I bet Marti’s first word will be
Rennie
, just like Alexander’s was.”
Rennie
, just like Alexander’s was.”
Her face brightened. “Really? I don’t want to bug you or nothing.”
“I know you have lots of people to talk to already, but of course. I’m your uncle, it comes with the territory. It’s not bugging me at all. I like talking to you. I just wish I could help. I know it’s hard right now. Is there something I can do to make this better?”
She paused, thinking, and then shook her head. “You already did.”
Brody came out the front door looking for them and caught sight of the two of them there on the rocker. “Everything okay?” He reached out to touch Rennie—an automatic, sweet caress of her head. It was so clear his brother loved Irene totally. And when she leaned into Brody’s hand, it was clear she loved him totally right back.
“Hey, Dad. I was just talking to Uncle Adrian about stuff.” She kissed Adrian’s cheek and hugged him tight. “I’m better now. I promise,” she whispered.
Over the top of Rennie’s head, Brody looked at Adrian, worried. Adrian gave him what he hoped was reassurance, indicating things were all right.
Turning his attention back to his niece, he gave her a look up and down. “How much practicing have you done this week?” He’d started to give her guitar lessons and like her mother, she was an easy, quick study.
She hopped up. “One hour a day, just like you said. Momma makes sure I do it. You are gonna be so impressed!”
Seeing the return of his happy, ebullient niece, Adrian felt better. “I’ll be in to see what you’ve learned this week. If you kick it like you claim, cupcakes on me.”
Her eyes widened and she hopped to it, running past them and into the house.
“What’s going on?”
Being caught between Rennie’s privacy and Brody’s concern wasn’t a fun thing. But he’d been there enough between Brody and Erin to know it was important to talk to Brody. Plus, he knew Rennie would only benefit from the extra attention and reinforcement.
“She wanted to know if I loved Alexander and Marti more than her because she’s adopted.” He put his hand out to stay his brother a moment. “She knows it’s not true. But knowing something in your head isn’t always connected to how you feel about it.”
“Elise and I worry. We keep an eye out for it because of course Marti gets so much more attention than Rennie does. How can she think I don’t love her just as much as I do her sister? She’s my daughter. Period. Do you think I show any preference?”
Adrian might get a little jealous of just how together his older brother was and always had been, but he never ceased to respect him and his heart. When Brody Brown loved you, he loved you to the bone and that was that.
“She knows you do. She does. And she’s excited and happy and full of love for you and her sister and this family. That is who Rennie is all the way to her toes. But she’s ten and she’s growing up and with the good has to be some being scared and a little jealousy and even a sliver of anger.
“But she knows with all her heart that you love her just the same as if she’d come to you another way. It’s not the
how
she came to you, but that she did. She knows she’s your daughter.”
how
she came to you, but that she did. She knows she’s your daughter.”
“Elise says it’s a good thing she’s so close to you. Mind you, I agree.”
Adrian laughed. “As big a cliché as it sounds, it’s really the other way around. I’m lucky to have her. I love your kid. Both of them. I love that she can come to me and trust the parts of herself she doesn’t think are as pretty.” He was proud of it. “I guess you raised me right.”
“Enough mush. Come on inside.”
3
With great care, Gillian chose her clothes for the day. Miles was at school and she was heading over to Seattle to go to Brody Brown’s tattoo parlor.
She bound her hair at the nape of her neck after braiding and coiling it. Not too much makeup. Subtle colors. Messages were important and she didn’t want to give an impression that she was tatty or in need of money. Or looking for any interaction but the one she detailed. Men sometimes assumed things about a woman. Though it was really stupid and their own issue, Gillian had lived with enough judgment and assumption that she was a slapper looking for a few extra quid simply because of who she was related to; she didn’t care for it to happen ever again.
She hadn’t always had control over most things in her life growing up, but her outward appearance was something she could control. Yes, yes, she knew it was silly, but you did what you could to get through the day without maiming anyone.
Her accent had smoothed out over the years living in America. But the flavor of England was in her forever. To her bones. She’d never lose it entirely and she figured she may as well use it to her advantage. Most often she fell to the posh one, the one her piano teacher had used back when she and her mother and sister had lived in a council flat in Newham. The Queen’s English. It came in quite handy with teachers, policemen, authority figures. The other, the heavier cockney she was born with, well, that one only came out when she really got angry or frustrated, and her close friends and Miles knew to be careful when she started dropping consonants.
On the drive over, she went through her short, simple speech several times. It was best if she told Adrian face-to-face. It wasn’t something she wanted lawyers and third parties to handle. This was about a real person who deserved some respect.
So she ignored the nausea and nervousness and found the place easily enough using her borrowed GPS. Her hand froze, clutching her keys in her palm so hard her knuckles were white. She made herself relax, took in the surroundings. Mixed commercial neighborhood. A café next door, a hipster hardware store a few doors down. Brody Brown’s tattoo shop was called Written on the Body. Hm. Nice name. Not a cliché.
It took four tries to get out. She even restarted the car once. But in the end, she found herself walking through the front door and asking to see Brody Brown.
It wasn’t that she didn’t expect a very large, tattooed man—the place was positively full of them. But it was his eyes she hadn’t expected. Warm, friendly. His smile was genuine and open.
Gillian found herself responding, relaxing a little.
“I’m Brody. I hear you were looking for me?”
She held a hand out, which he shook. “My name is Gillian Forrester. I know this is most unusual, but I need to get in contact with your brother.”
The warmth shuttered. Not entirely, but he clearly put some distance between them.
“What’s this about? He has management if you want an interview or a personal appearance.”
Gillian shook her head. “No. No, it’s not like that. I have some information for him. I need to tell him in person. I’m not trying to be coy, though it might appear that way, I’m sure.” She put an envelope on the counter. “What I have to say, I need to say in person. My contact information is in there.”
Brody looked at the envelope and then at her, long and hard. She had nothing to hide, and damned if she’d do anything but look him right back. No one would ever make her feel guilty or ashamed when she was doing the right thing.
“I’m his brother; I can pass it along. You can tell me whatever it is.”
“I’m sure you’re a trustworthy person. It’s in the eyes, you know.” She brushed down the front of her sweater, brisk now that her message had been delivered. “But it’s not something he should hear from anyone but me.”
She stepped back. “You don’t know me from Adam. I’m sure you get people in here trying to get at your brother and I respect that you’re protecting him. All I can do is repeat that I need to speak with him about something very important and that my contact information is in that envelope.”
He took the envelope, sliding it into the cash register, under the cash drawer. “I can’t make any promises. Your best hope is to contact his management. It’s at his website.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
Brody watched her go with long, precise, ground-eating strides. Which was all the more impressive given that she couldn’t have topped five foot one or two. Big brown eyes that, if he wasn’t mistaken, deftly sized him and the shop up enough that he’d lay odds she wasn’t an easy mark.
Not the usual sort of woman in the shop trying to find Adrian. He watched her turn the corner and went back to the register where the envelope was. He took it and headed back to his office to call his brother.
Adrian picked up on the first ring. “Yo.”
Brody snorted a laugh. It was such a common greeting from his brother that even Alexander had picked it up.
“I just had a visitor. A woman looking for you.”
“Novel.”
“Har har. No, this one was different than the usual breed of star-fucker who comes sniffing around for you. Graceful. The way she moved reminds me of Elise. Though she’s more . . . bold, maybe? Something. Anyway. She left an envelope here with her contact information.”
“Did she say what it was about?”
“She wouldn’t tell me. But she did say it was important.”
“They all say that, Brody. If it’s important, she’ll contact Jeremy and he’ll tell me.” Brody heard the plunk of strings, knew his brother’s focus was on the music.
Brody paused. “Adrian, I think you should call her.”
“Why? Dude, she’s going to want something from me. A donation for a charity, a night at a bachelor auction, whatever. I have management for this. I’m sorry they come in to bug you, man. I know it’s a pain.”
“It’s not a pain. She’s . . . well, she’s different. Call her. I think you need to do it yourself.”
“What does the info say?”
“I haven’t opened it yet. It’s to you.”
Adrian barked a laugh. “Christ, dude, do you always have to be so fuckin’ honorable? Open it up and tell me.”
“Asshole.” Brody muttered it as he opened the envelope and then scanned the sheet within. “It’s a sheet of paper with her name. Gillian Forrester. Two contact numbers and an e-mail. Says she has to give you some important information and she needs to deliver it in person. Apologizes for sounding mysterious.”
“Fuck this noise. I have better things to do than get hooked in to some scheme with a chick looking to get laid. Seattle’s got plenty of musicians; I’m sure she can get her itch scratched elsewhere.”
Brody heard the world-weariness in his brother’s voice. It had alleviated some in the months since he’d been home from this last tour. He’d grown concerned over the last few years that Adrian was getting too jaded. All that industry stuff was destructive. Fake. Obsessed with things that simply didn’t matter. Worse, the walls between his private life and his public one as a celebrity had begun to crumble. People camped out at Adrian’s front gates on a regular basis. He’d had multiple stories fed to tabloids about his sex life, most of it totally untrue. Hell, even a paternity accusation three years prior. Brody and Erin had encouraged Adrian to take a step back and put some paid staff between him and the public and thank goodness he’d listened.
What did matter was Adrian’s music. Of course Brody had been proud and wanted his brother to continue to be successful. Just not at the expense of the rest of Adrian’s life.
Brody’s gut was rarely wrong, and it told him his brother needed to contact this woman. “She’s different. I said it and I’ll say it again. Adrian, what harm can it do to call her? If she’s full of shit, hang up and block her number forever.”
Adrian sighed and Brody knew he was putting his guitar down, moving aside the notepad and bringing his full attention to his brother. “Fine. Fine. If she asks me for money, beer and pizza is on you next time.”
Brody grinned. “I can call her for you, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was about when she was here and I don’t think she’d do it on the phone either.”
Other books
The Witness by Sandra Brown
Skinny Melon and Me by Jean Ure
A Royal Bennet by Melanie Schertz
Inventing the Enemy: Essays by Eco, Umberto
She Had No Choice by Debra Burroughs
Saints and Assassins (The Sentinels) by Hunter, Melinda
Karen Memory by Elizabeth Bear
A Ladys Pleasure by Jolie Cain
Homecoming by Cooper West
Holy Sh*t: A Brief History of Swearing by Melissa Mohr
