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Lauren laughed but didn’t answer the question. All five of The Kingmakers had a long list of escapades that would, someday, make an epic band memoir—but until then, there were secrets that stayed with the band. And who she, or anyone else in the band, may or may not have had a threesome with was one of them.
“Can I ask you something else?” Carolyn asked after they stopped laughing.
“Sure.”
“How’s the sex with Danny?”
“Carolyn!”
“What? I’m pregnant, my hormones are off the chart—I can say whatever I want. So 'fess up. Is it better than you remembered? Worse? What?”
“Better,” Lauren said, feeling a blush creep up her neck. She drained the rest of the rum and Coke as her thoughts churned.
“If things are so good, why do you look so sad?” Carolyn asked.
“I don’t… Shit, I don’t know.” Lauren did know, though. It didn’t take a psychic to know this was all going to end. She went back to the patio fridge and reached for the rum. As her hand grasped the cool neck of the bottle, she changed her mind. Drinking wasn’t going to solve anything. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Have you guys talked about what’s going on here?” Carolyn asked as her sister sat down again, a can of soda in her hand.
“Not as much as we should,” Lauren said, the admission rankling her. “We skirt around it, but it’s the elephant in the room. And it’s getting bigger. If I ever get my head out of my ass and write some good songs, the album will be finished. Then I’m gone. Something’s got to give before the tour starts.”
“What do you think’s going to happen?”
Lauren gulped her drink and felt the sadness drape over her. “I think I’m going to go down with the ship. One way or another, I’m going to lose him. Again.”
Even as she said it, a little voice in the back of Lauren’s head laughed at her pain. That little voice that had been cropping up more and more. The one she thought she’d left behind a decade ago.
ChapterThirty-Eight
Danny’s head was splitting. After dinner at his father’s house the previous week, he’d only seen Lauren briefly. She’d obviously had an awful time at her sister’s, but all she would say was that she was never speaking to Jackie again. After that, she’d disappeared into the studio, and he’d been sucked into a kidnapping case that had dominated his thoughts and his time.
Because of the case, Danny hadn’t been home for close to 24 hours. It was early afternoon, and his lieutenant had sent him and Matsui home to get some rest. He walked into his house and threw his wallet and keys on the counter. He’d felt the pain of the kidnapped boy’s parents to his very core, and all he wanted right now was to hug his sons. Every day he missed them more, but tonight? The ache bordered on unbearable.
After throwing on old shorts and a t-shirt, he stared into the refrigerator. His choices were pitiful. He grabbed a container of leftover Chinese takeout, gave it a sniff, and judged it edible. He flopped down in his recliner and reached for the remote. Next to it was a picture of his family. He picked it up—it was from a trip to the beach last summer. The whole family was smiling and happy.
We looked happy back then, but were we? How can you go from happily married to living separate lives and wanting something more? Were we ever happily married? Can I fix this? Should I?
Despite how tired he was, Danny got up, grabbed his keys, and headed out. He drove to St. Catherine’s but then idled in front of the church. Gunning the engine, he pulled away. Twenty-five minutes later he found himself on the other side of the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge and on Staten Island—and in the parking lot of St. Sylvester’s.
At the door of the church he paused, dipping his fingers in the holy water, and making the sign of the cross. His feet felt rooted, but he squared his shoulders and walked with purpose to the confessional. Sitting in silence, he almost bolted, but soon there was a rustle of cassocks and a soft thump as the priest sat down. Danny bowed his head.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…”
In the city, Lauren was brooding. She hadn’t seen Danny in three days and on the phone, he’d been distant. She’d seen the headlines about the kidnapping and tried to chalk it up to that. Nevertheless, a nagging feeling something else was going on, that something was wrong, ate away at her.
She took her ever-present notebook and went out. In the park, she found a bench and started to people-watch. Jotting down notes about things she noticed, she created tiny stories. It was a trick she’d used before to jumpstart her writing. The sticky, late August heat and humidity clung to her and didn’t improve her mood. Lauren soon retreated to the cool of her apartment to shower the stickiness away. It was close to six o’clock when she stepped out onto the bathmat, wrapping herself and her hair in plush towels.
When Danny called later to tell her he was pulling up to the building, hearing. his voice softened her whole disposition. She hung up the phone and sighed, relieved that she’d be able to see him. Whenever she was out of sorts with the band, all the crap and frustration seemed to fade and disappear when Danny was around.
She puttered in the kitchen until she heard the door open. He was wearing faded jeans and an olive-green t-shirt that said ARMY across the front. She liked how he looked in jeans. He might have to wear suits for work, but Lauren far preferred him in casual dress.
“I missed you.” Lauren gave him a kiss, but the one he returned was distant. In an instant, she was wary and on edge. He took her hand and led her to the living room.
“Everything okay?” she asked as she sat next to him and put a hand on his leg. She told herself the serious demeanor could mean anything and hoped no one was sick.
“Lauren… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
“Oh.” Lauren drew her hand back. His somber tone sent tendrils of unease through her body. This wasn’t about anyone being sick. This was about her.
