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Before Lauren could ask any more questions, Heather’s fingers tightened, talon-like, on Danny’s arm. “We should get going,” she said. “The boys need to get their sleep.”
“Mom!” Lucas sounded mortified.
“Heather!” Danny’s tone was a rebuke as they exchanged acrimonious glares. Their dynamic made Lauren wonder what was really going on with them.
“I understand,” she said to Danny. “I’m sorry we didn’t have longer to catch up. Hard to cover almost twenty years in twenty minutes. But it really was so good to see you.” She almost asked Danny if he could stay so they could talk more, but she refrained.
Without even thinking, she and Danny hugged again. As he pulled her close, Danny whispered in her ear. “I’ve missed you. More than you know.”
She closed her eyes and let her cheek press against his. “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered back.
After a final round of goodbyes, Lauren watched one of Martin’s security officers usher the Padovanos to the exit. Another guard caught her eye with a subtle wave. He told her that her car was there. She nodded to acknowledge she’d heard him but lingered backstage for a long time.
ChapterEleven
Just before 8:30 in the morning the next day, the wind and rain chased Augie into Velocity Studios. He shook the water from his shoulders and muttered to himself about better weather in California. He was surprised to find Tisha ensconced behind the reception desk on a Sunday, but before he could even say hello, the sound of a muffled f-bomb drifted down the hall.
“What time did she get here?”
“About six-thirty, I think,” Tisha said. “She grunted a hello when I saw her. Other than that, it’s just been, well,that.”
“And you’re here on a Sunday… why?” Augie selected one of the coat hooks—some trendy and modern triangle-shaped pieces of walnut along the wall—and hung his coat.
“Favor for Fitz. In case you all need anything.”
“You see Sandoval last night?”
“I did. Great interview until, well… they both looked like they’d seen a ghost.” Tisha dropped a folder into the file cabinet and closed the drawer.
“I have half a mind to rip Sandoval a new one myself, but I’m sure Lauren took care of that.” Augie knew his cousin wasn’t just going to forgive and forget something like this. But Lauren’s ability to hold onto a grudge with terrier-like tenacity wasn’t the real reason Augie was concerned. That worry was one hundred percent centered on Danny.
He remembered how much Lauren had loved Danny, how many regrets she had. He also knew how much the end of their relationship had fueled Lauren’s descent into addiction—trying to put Danny behind her was the main reason she’d careened through a spate of failed relationships and spun out of control. She’d been looking for a way to forget him, to fill the empty part of her where Danny used to be. And as she’d so aptly remarked the night before, she’d filled it with all the wrong people and all the wrong things. And Augie’d had a ringside seat to the whole debacle.
Tisha got up from her desk and brushed some invisible lint off her artfully ripped jeans. “I’m making coffee. You want a cup?”
“Love some.”
“Like hers?”
Augie scrunched up his face. “Hell, no, dude. Black with one sugar. None of that extra light extra sweet BS.”
“You got it, hon.”
As he appeared in the door of the conference room, Lauren flung her pen down in disgust. He didn’t even get the chance to say good morning.
“It was Roberta. She set the whole fiasco up, and I fired her ass last night.”
It was a statement, a challenge, as Lauren dared him to disagree with her. But Augie didn’t take the bait. He’d always had a good sense of how to handle his cousin. His level head and mellow attitude often softened her drive and sharpness. Instead, he answered her in funny, cartoonish voices, playing both parts of the conversation.
“Good morning, Augie. How are you? … I’m good, Lauren. My mom said to say hello to you. … That’s nice. How’s she doing?”
“Point taken,” Lauren said, humbled. “Let’s start over: Hi, Augie. How are you?”
“Not bad. How areyou?” Augie ignored all the chairs and hopped up to sit on the edge of the table.
“I can’t write a goddamn song to save my life.”
It wasn’t the answer he expected, but he was glad she’d said it. Lauren had been evasive about her songs, and he’d wondered if something was wrong. But that was a discussion for later.
