Someone to Watch Over Me (10 page)

Levy paid no heed, smiling
wider in response. He pointed his plump finger in Tate’s direction.
“Yew tuttle.” Which only made me laugh harder.

“No respect,” said Tate with
disgruntlement. “Try to help the kid out. That’s so not cool. You
share that with anyone, and I will take you down to Chinatown. I
have a big pee pee.”

“Yew tuttle.”

Biting my lip, I looked
apologetically to Tate. “I’m sorry. We can go now. Seriously. I’m
done. I won’t laugh anymore. Swear.”

“I would, but I think I’m lost.
I’ve been driving haplessly since you started talking. And since
you’ve only,” he flicked the gas gage with the tip of his finger,
“a quarter tank, I can’t keep driving in circles acting like I know
where I’m going.”

“Appreciated.” I tapped the
screen of my faithful GPS. “What’s the address?” We were stopping
at his temporary residence so that he could shower and change.
He was staying with
Carter’s sister, I
believe. She had a house with five bedrooms and a carriage house
with another two. Enough rooms for the band and then some.

“I don’t remember the house
number. The street is Cold Spring Road. It’s in Buckingham.”

“Close enough.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

It was a little out of the way.
Well, a lot out of the way, but he needed a fresh change of
clothes. “It’s fine. As long as I can make it to work by six.”

“You could call out.”

“No, I really can’t.”

“Are you sure? You could help
me out with my issues.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I
still can’t call out. That would leave the other girls shorthanded.
I’ve been there. It sucks. I can’t do that to them unless it’s a
real emergency.”

“Everyone needs a break once in
awhile, Coop.”

“It’s not just that. If I call
out tonight and then Levy gets sick
tomorrow
, I’ll be screwed. I have to be careful with
my time.”

“If I begge—”

“No.”

“If I was sick?”

“No!” I exclaimed,
laughing.

“Damn. I feel used. You invited
me over just for sex, didn’t you?”

“And the laundry
,” I reminded him
.
“Especially
the laundry.
”

Beside me, Tate laughed. It was
a warm, comfortable sound. I tried
not to
dwell on it. No point in building castles in the air. He was
probably flirty and at ease with everyone. Instead, I enjoyed the
now. Since he was driving, I stared out the window, taking in the
scenery.

Chapter
5

A
fter
stopping for gas, during which Tate took time to purchase a handful
of Slim Jims, a pint of Red Bull and a king sized Hershey bar, we
pulled onto Cold Spring Road.
The house
was an estate if I ever saw one. I’m talking manicured lawns and
sprawling pastures filled with sleek thoroughbreds. Ok, maybe they
weren’t thoroughbreds. I couldn’t tell the difference between a
pony and a horse
, but
they were
definitely sleek
and stately, nothing
like the nags at
Mr. Craig’s
farm. And
the grass had those fancy lines in it that only professionals could
master
.

The driveway was long. Flanked
on either side by lengthy stretches of pristine white post and rail
fencing. Massive white oaks stood sentinel in even pairs leading up
to the main house.

Currently, it was
bustling
with traffic. Cars and trucks, or should I
say Jags and Beamers cluttered the turn-around. Others were parked
between the rows of trees at the far end of the drive. Explaining
the pile up, two large bouquets of primary colored balloons hovered
at either side of the door. As well as the redwood arbor that led
around to the back of the house.

Tate did a loop around the
circle, pulled to a stop by the stoop and beeped the horn. One of
the many loiterers looked over, beamed a smile and trotted over,
ducking along my window.

“Twat!”

“Dick.” Reaching across me,
they locked hands.

“What the hell is this?” Dick,
if that was really his name, gestured to my car.

“It’s Coop’s car. Just toying
with it. Dick, this is Cooper. Cooper, Dick. He’s Carter’s brother
in law, and the band’s attorney.”

“Twat?” I asked, taking Dick’s
hand.
He clasped my hand firmly, accompanying it
with a welcoming smile. He was handsome, in a fatherly sort of way,
with thinning, mousy hair. His smile was large, with pointed
cuspids that gleamed bleach white against his tan
complexion.

“Tate Watkins. Twat. Kind of
like J-Lo or K-Stew, but better.”

“Yeah, but his name’s really
Dick.”

“Richard,” Dick corrected.

Tate
grinned.
“Dick.”

“Dick
!
” Levy added
with an angelic
smile
. I blushed ten shades of red. He was asleep. Or had
been. I knew he’d be repeating that word persistent
ly
from
here forward
. Kids
have a natural capacity for picking up words they should never
repeat and then repeating them at the most
untoward
moments.

“Oh dear,” said
Richard
, genuinely contrite. “Didn’t see him back
there.”

“That’s Mini Cooper
,
”
Tate said in
introduction.

“Levy,” I explained. “My
son.”

“Sorry about that.” Leaning
further
into the car, he took a good look
at Levy. “Did you come for the party? We have a moon bounce and a
ball pit. And there’ll be pony rides later.”

Interest piqued, Tate raised
his brows. “A ball pit?”

“I can’t,” I said impulsively,
glaring at Tate. In one of the most humiliating displays of
femininity, I
ran a hand through my hair
,
and smoothed out
my clothes.

“What?” Tate asked, oblivious
to the reason for my distress.

“I just—” rolled out of bed, I
almost said. But that would’ve sounded trashy. Though it was true.
“I didn’t dress for this. I would’ve worn something nicer.”

“You’re fine,” said
Richard
. “You’re dressed like most of the other kids
here.”

My lips pressed tightly
together. God. I was officially white trash. He just called me a
kid. I was a kid with a kid. I was the floozy that showed up on the
arm of the rock star and crashed the party. This was so not
happening.

“I’m in,” said Tate, climbing
out of the car. Tugging the back door open, he began unfastening
Levy from his seat. “What do you say, Mini Cooper, wanna go in the
ball pit?”

“Baw pit?”

“That’s right. The ball pit.”
Giving his hands
a
sharp clap, he pulled
Levy into his arms. “Come on Coop. We’re going in the ball
pit.”

“Mon M
om
ma, in da baw pit!”

Tate gave me that crooked smile
from over his shoulder and took off running, Levy bouncing in his
arms, squealing gleefully. With no other choice, I slid out of the
car.

“I’ll park
it for you
,”
Richard
assured. “Go on. Have fun.”

Fun? I
thought
doubtfully, and started after Tate and my
son. I was seriously regretting the Juicy pants and the white
jersey tee. They were ok for the playground but an estate with a
lawn set up for afternoon tea, they weren’t the ideal choice of
garb. Ok, it wasn’t as formal as I expected. There was a great big
red moon bounce and a coordinating mustard yellow ball pit, as well
as a large white pavilion set up beside the in-ground pool. They
had a barbeque going that smelled divine, and a game of horseshoes
commencing along the back of the property.

I found Tate by a table,
chatting with his friends, swinging Levy by his ankles. Levy
appeared unbothered by the detour, or the rush of blood to his
head. I could hear him giggling from across the yard, his platinum
hair fanning like a halo around his puce face.

“That’s not a boy,” said some
woman with long, silky brown hair. “He’s
got
longer hair than Gabi. And the color…I think I
might actually be
jealous.”

“Thank you,” I said politely,
reaching for Levy. Tate took a step backward, twisting so that Levy
hung behind his back, just out of
my
reach.

“
Are you
coming in the ball pit with us?
”

“
Well, I
wasn’t going
in
the ball pit. I was going to watch him from
outside.
”

“
Then
you can
stay here and shoot the breeze
with Jess and the rest of the ladies.” Jess was the only girl at
the table, but I grasped the intended insult thrown toward his band
mates.

“Tate—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll bring him
back when his diaper needs chang
ing
.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No one ever accused me of
being selfish.”

Once again, Tate ran off with
Levy in tow. I watched with part distress, part amusement as he
lifted him by the waist of his pants and reeled back to toss him in
head first, but at the last second he stopped short and dropped him
gently through the canvas flap
, glancing in my
direction with an errant smile
. Toeing off his shoes, he
dove in after him, growling and snarling like a fiend. The ball pit
shook and shu
ddered
. Through the netting,
I could see balls flying left and right. Levy’s screams of
delightful terror
pierced the air
.

“I swear all men age backward
in dog years,”
Jess
commented
. “It’s the only way to explain the enigma
of their maturity
.”

“That’s what makes us so
lovable,” Carter
replied
. “We’re always
kids at heart.” Shocking the hell out of me, he smiled congenially.
“Have a seat Cooper, and tell us why you wear a dress suit five
days a weeks when you’ve got lungs like Bessie Smith
.
”

“Geez, Carter,
a compliment?
” I smiled back. “You must’ve had your
sugar today.”
I was once in awe of his talent,
but he had burned that image away when he insulted my
driving.

“He scraped half the icing from
Gabi’s birthday cake. So, yeah, he’s feeling just chipper today.
Name’s Jess.” She extended her hand. I was surprised to find her
hands rough. A working girl. “I’m Carter’s sister and Richard’s
wife. I imagine you met him coming in.”

“Yes, I did. Nice to meet you.”
I could see the resemblance now that she pointed it out. She had
the same curls as Carter. The same winsome smile. “So nobody really
calls him Dick?”

“Just Twat.” My smile widened
on its own accord. She took a sip from her glass of tea. Tilted it
in my direction. “Sit, sweetheart. Can I get you something to
drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m good.”
I didn’t want to impose.

“Nonsense.
Jake
, go get the girl a glass of tea.”

“Me?”
Jake
objected,
pointing
a
finger at his chest. He was the California boy with the
sun-bleached hair.
He played keyboards for the
band.
“You’re the hostess!”

“
Jake
, you’re not a guest in my house. You’re a
revolving resident. Now go get
her
a
glass of tea or you can sleep in the bus tonight. Comprendes?”

“There used to be a day when
you hung on my every word,”
Jake
complained
, vacating his chair. Jess
winked, smiling over the rim of her glass. I realized
a second later
her focus was over my shoulder.

“That was before I met Richard
and all his money.”

“And that money’s supposed to
pay for your silence,” Richard scoffed, coming up behind me. “What
good’s the arm candy if everyone knows it’s all a charade?”

“Because you’re the only one I
need to fool.”

“
Words of
true love. Be still my heart.” After pressing a quick kiss to
Jess’s cheek, he turned and dropped my keys into my hand. “Great
first car.”

“
Thanks,” I
said, though it was my second car. My first car was somewhere in
California. We’d left it behind when I flew home. Dad sold it to
another student on campus.

“So Carter tells us you sing.”

“
On
occasion.” I cringed inwardly. They were granting no mercy with
their line of questioning. I wouldn’t call the twit stuff real
singing, and up until last night, that’s all I sang.

Sitting back in his chair, Carter spoke up.
“She’s being modest.”

“
I only do
it for the ex
tra cash,” I said in
dismissal. “Once, twice a week during intermissions. And I don’t
make much at all. It’s no big deal. Really.”

“
You’re
getting paid,” Shane observed.
He was the
drummer with the bottle black hair. “That’s something. Most
musicians don’t make anything at the start of their
career.”

Carter’s
gaze flickered toward
his friend, the corner of his mouth crooking derisively. “That’s
why Tate and I handle the negotiations for the band. If you were in
charge, we’d all still be playing for drinks.”

They
exchanged a friendly fire of flip-offs before Carter turned his
attention back to me.
Much to my
disappointment. “I still say you’re selling yourself short. You’ve
done enough intermissions that you have your own following. You
should have your own gig.”

“
He’s
right,” Richard agreed. “If you’re as good as he says, your boss
might be waiting for you to step up. Take the
initiative.”