Asking for Trouble Page 12

  “I don’t want to be Yoko!” I wailed, pouting. “Want a bite of my tomato?”

  “Blech. I don’t know how you can eat them like that.” He made a face. “And if being Yoko means you’re my inspiration, then fuck ‘em, because you are.”

  I sighed, resting my head against his chest, hearing the knock on the door and ignoring it.

  “Let’s just stay here.”

  “In Milan?”

  “Mm hmm. I love it here.”

  “You say that about everywhere we go.”

  “Not Ireland,” I countered. “And England wasn’t that great. But I could live in Sweden or Italy.”

  “Rob?” The muffled voice belonged to Celeste and I sighed, letting Rob go answer the door while I sat and finished my tomato.

  “Thanks, Celeste,” Rob said from inside. The patio door was open, and I could hear the drift of their conversation. “What did he say?”

  Celeste’s voice was too low for me to catch all the words. I knew I shouldn’t, but I moved closer, standing by the door so I could listen.

  “Sonofabitch,” Rob swore under his breath. “When do we find out?”

  “The court date is next week,” Celeste replied. “We should know for sure then.”

  “But otherwise, she’s fine with the rest?”

  “You know she’s asking for the moon, so this drags out forever,” Celeste told him. “She doesn’t want you to marry Sabrina.”

  “I don’t care what she wants.” I knew that tone. That was Rob wanting what he wanted.

  “What if...” Celeste cleared her throat. “What if you agreed?”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Rob snapped. “Over my dead body.”

  Agreed to what? I wondered.

  “It was just a thought.” She sighed. “Here’s your phone.”

  Celeste had his phone on tour for safe keeping. It made me blush, remembering how many texts I’d sent him while he was on tour. Thank God I’d never sent him anything too risqué. We’d only done that when we were alone, via Skype. Ironically, if Celeste hadn’t been sick that weekend in Detroit, Rob and probably never would have met in the first place. She kept him organized, in line, and on task.

  “Rehearsal is at noon. You’ll be there?”

  “We’ll be there,” he assured her.

  “We?” Celeste asked. Of course, she knew he meant us—me and Rob. But I understood her tone immediately. She ran interference between Rob and the band all the time. Clearly, they didn’t appreciate me hanging out at rehearsal either.

  I slipped away from the door, going over to lean on the stone ledge. Below us, the city was spread out like a dream. It was stunning. I wondered how the band had been with Catherine, when she’d travelled with Rob. Had they liked her? Had they complained when she went to rehearsals with him? Of course, none of them ever said anything to me, or in front of Rob.

  Tyler, of course, was the exception. He thought I was okay.

  “Come on, Yoko, let’s write.” Rob came back out onto the patio, slipping behind me and sliding his arms around my waist, covering my belly, as they always did.

  “Why bother?” I sighed. “They’re going to hate it anyway.”

  “I don’t hate it.” He kissed my cheek, rocking me back against him, taking my weight in his arms.

  “What good is that going to do you if the rest of Trouble won’t record what you write?” I asked softly, glancing back at him.

  “Well maybe I’ll go solo then,” he replied, raising his eyes at my look of surprise. “What? Everyone will say it’s about time.”

  “You aren’t serious?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged.

  “Oh my God.” I startled, blinking in surprise at the sudden flurry of activity below my navel. “What the hell?”

  “What?” Rob looked concerned. “What’s the matter? Is it the baby?”

  “Yes.” My eyes widened as it happened again, but I was quick to erase that horrified look on his face. “No, no, it’s not bad. Feel.”

  I guided his hands to the place where I’d felt it the strongest.

  “What—?” Rob started but I cut him off.

  “Shhh. Just wait.”

  And there it was. She was kicking, moving and squirming in there. Rob’s eyes brightened, going wide.

  “That’s really Esther?” he exclaimed. “I guess she really likes those tomatoes!”

  “We’re not naming her Esther.” I laughed. “But yes, that’s her.”

  Rob dropped to his knees in front of me, pressing his cheek to my belly and closing his eyes. She had grown quiet again.

  “Talk to her,” I said.

  “Hi baby,” he murmured. “Hi Esther, it’s Daddy.”

  Nothing.

  “Sing to her,” I suggested, running a hand through his hair.

  Rob met my eyes, starting to sing the song we’d just been working on.

  One night, one life, one breath, one heart, one fire, one light, one love—

  A light so strong, there can be no night...

  The baby went crazy for it, her daddy’s biggest fan already, making me laugh and Rob’s eyes light up with wonder.

  “You’re going to be the best father,” I said when Rob stood and took me in his arms, swinging me and kissing me soundly on the mouth.

  “No pressure.” He snorted.

  “You are.” I insisted.

  “I hope so.” His hand moved between us, covering my belly. “I’m going to write a song about her. And sing it to her every night.”

  “Well let’s finish this one first, Mozart.” I laughed.

  “You got it, Yoko.” He took my hand and led me back inside where our music and guitars waited and before I knew it, we were in our own little world again, me and him, and nothing else mattered or even existed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Germans loved Trouble. We’d drawn in big crowds in Ireland and Italy, and an even bigger one in England, but the number of people in Germany far surpassed anything I’d ever experienced in the U.S. Back home, bands played in big venues where people sat in seats and there was a limited amount of space. Here, Trouble was playing a whole city. The “stage” was set up in the center of a town square that spilled over into a huge park. By the time the show was ready to start, it was standing room only and you couldn’t see even a hint of the grass they were all trampling.

  “How do you even sell tickets to a thing like this?” I wondered aloud at Celeste as we sat “backstage.” They had erected tents on either side of the staging area and the stage itself was covered with an awning, in case of rain. Rob paced, prowling back and forth, a water bottle in his hand. He was like this before every show. I was used to it.

  “Well, they did put up fences,” she said, looking up from her Blackberry. “But I heard they busted through them earlier today.”

  “It was like this the first time we were here,” Tyler piped up. He was sitting with his back to a post playing Flappy Bird on his phone, waiting for the roadies to clear the set after the opening act. I had tried it once and had given up after a few minutes. It was impossible, but it kept Tyler’s mind busy, which was what he needed before a show, or he got hyper. “Do you remember, Rob?”

  “Huh?” Rob stopped at the sound of his name.

  “The year we opened for U2,” Tyler reminded him, not looking up from his game. “Remember? They broke through the fences. They were climbing the light posts.”

  “Yeah.” A hint of a smile appeared on Rob’s lips. “That was our first album. We were the opening act.”

  “I saw that show!” I exclaimed. “Not in Germany. I saw it in the U.S. Katie’s dad got us tickets to see U2. That was when we fell in love with Trouble.”

  “Who would have thought, huh?” Tyler did look up from his game then, a smile spreading across his face. I knew he was thinking about Katie—I’d talked to her and knew the two of them were talking again. And according to Celeste, Tyler had curbed his wayward ways to monk standards. No drugs, no girls, not ev
en any alcohol. And he was talking to Katie every night, which made Katie cautiously happy, as far as I could tell from four thousand miles away.

  “Yeah, what are the odds?” Rob smiled down at me, reaching for my hand. I let him pull me in close, slipping my arms around his neck as he dipped his head to kiss me. “How’d I get so lucky?”

  “We’ve sure had a lot of happy little accidents,” I whispered, nuzzling his neck.

  “Hey, get a room, would ya?” Nick, Trouble’s shaved bald, tattooed drummer, nudged by us.

  Of course, he would catch us making out before the show. I tried to disengage but Rob held me fast, just making it worse as Jon, Trouble’s tall, long-haired keyboardist and Kenny, Trouble’s bass player, came around the corner and joined us. Since Rob had insisted I be backstage at every show, they’d started coming later and later. I was sure they all hated me, although we hadn’t said much more than “hi” to each other in passing since the tour started, and I couldn’t figure out why.

  I’d tried, I really had. Celeste, with Tyler’s help, had even attempted, on a few occasions, to bring us all together. She’d organized several things—a walking tour in Ireland, the Vasa Museum in Sweden, even visiting Buckingham Palace in England, but it was no use. Nick, Kenny and Jon didn’t want to have anything to do with me, no matter how nice I was, no matter how much I went out of my way to ease their minds that I had no evil plans to steal Rob away from Trouble.

  Tyler was the only one who would talk to me, aside from Rob and Celeste. The roadies were polite, but they kept their distance and seemed to stick together. They didn’t hang out with the band and Rob said it was, in part, because Tyler got into too much trouble when he hung out with them.

  The crowd was so loud it was deafening. I accepted the earplugs Celeste handed over. She was passing them out to the whole band—they all wore them on stage. If they didn’t, they might, literally, go deaf. That’s how loud it was.

  “Break a leg,” I whispered to Rob, kissing his cheek as the lights went dark on stage in preparation for Trouble’s entrance.

  “Have a great show!” I called after Tyler as he handed his phone to Celeste and put his earplugs in. “Everyone have a great show!”

  I didn’t know if they could hear me. None of the rest of the band acknowledged my existence, but that was nothing new.

  “They hate me!” I said to Celeste. Well, yelled, really. She shrugged helplessly, putting her own earplugs in. I’d done the research and was glad the tour would be over before the baby could really hear very well. I didn’t want to take any chances.

  Celeste sat back down but I couldn’t. The excitement of a show never got old, no matter how many times I saw them perform. I was still in love with their music, and especially with Rob. He and Tyler had always been the front men, the essence of the band. Their dynamic and banter fed the crowd, kept the energy spiraling higher and higher, song after song, as the sun set over the park and thousands of screaming fans.

  Night fell, but the energy didn’t ebb. I hadn’t even noticed I was shivering until Celeste put a jacket over my shoulders. It was Rob’s leather and too big on me, but I welcomed it, smiling at her as she handed me a bottle of water. She oversaw keeping me hydrated when Rob wasn’t around. I laughed, unscrewing the cap and taking a long gulp. They were coming up on the end of their first set. They’d run backstage and wait for the crowd to go wild before running on for the encore.

  I sang along to Can’t Break a Broken Heart, my favorite Trouble song since the very beginning—although if they recorded them, some of the songs Rob and I were writing now might change that. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe I was writing songs with Rob Burns for Trouble. This was my life now? Someone pinch me!

  The song ended, the lights went dark—and now that it was dark outside, that made a dramatic difference. The band rushed off stage, grabbing water bottles, towels, wiping off sweat. Rob grabbed the water bottle from my hand, tipping it back and gulping until it was gone.

  “That was mine!” I protested, laughing as he wiped the back of his neck with a towel, putting one damp, bare arm around my waist and pulling me in for a long, deep kiss that left me dizzy and breathless.

  “Are you ready for your big debut?” He had to yell for me to hear him over the chanting crowd, not to mention the ear plugs.

  I looked at him for a minute, sure I had misunderstood. My what?

  It happened so fast I didn’t even have time to protest. They’d planned it, Rob and Tyler and Celeste—that was clear enough in hindsight, the way Tyler and Celeste ran interference with the rest of the band while the roadies set up two stools and ushered me and Rob out onto the stage. Before I knew what was going on, I had an acoustic guitar strapped around my neck and I was sitting on a stool facing Rob, who grinned as the lights went on overhead.

  “We’re going to do something special for you tonight.” Rob said into the microphone. I had one in front of me too. That’s when I really saw the crowd. I mean, really saw them. There were so many people out there you couldn’t see the ground. It was just a sea of faces. “This is a brand-new song, something you’ll probably hear on our next album.”

  The crowd went crazy at the prospect. I glanced down at the front row and saw girls clamoring to get up on the stage, security urging them to back away.

  “Here to help me perform it is Sabrina Taylor.” Rob winked at me when I gaped at him, too stunned to do anything else. “Remember her name because I can guarantee you’ll hear it again.”

  Then he started to play.

  It was the duet we’d written, Light So Strong, the one we’d been playing and tweaking for weeks, but I’d forgotten all the words. I’d forgotten everything. If Rob hadn’t mentioned my name, I probably wouldn’t have remembered that either. He saw my panic and hooked his boot on one of the supports on my stool, pulling it closer and leaning in, away from the microphone.

  “Play, Sabrina!”

  I shook my head, staring out at the crowd like a deer in headlights. Was he insane? Play? Play what? I looked down at the guitar like I’d never seen one before.

  “A-minor!” Rob called out and I looked at his hands moving on his guitar and suddenly muscle memory kicked in, thank God. The song started started on A-minor. My fingers knew what to do and I began to play along, following Rob around the intro one more time before he started to sing.

  And then my world exploded.

  I’d been on stage with him once before, the first night we met. I got up on stage and sang Janis Joplin, shaking in my boots—literally. But this, this was something else altogether. This was magic. Alchemy. Utter transformation.

  Rob sang, looking at me:

  I saw your light, your heart beat so bright, my heart blinded by your radiation—

  When we pressed, sliding tight, matchbox friction, hearts alight, burning bright as one—

  Chain reaction of love, core meltdown, self-fueling, fusing the chambers of our hearts—

  No fallout disaster, no nuclear winter, consumed by the fires, love’s emergency shelter

  One night, one life, one breath, one heart, one fire, one light, one love—

  A light so strong, there can be no night

  One night, one life, one breath, one heart, one love, one light, one love—

  A light so bright, there can never be a night

  I met his lyrics with mine, piggybacking, meeting his shining eyes under the hot spotlight. I sang to him, for him. The crowd was going wild, but I didn’t hear them, not really. Rob was my whole world.

  Your stare pressed me to the wall, your heat undid my heart,

  you lit a fire inside my soul—

  You stole my sight, with a light so bright,

  you cut right through my lies with your x-ray eyes—

  Your love’s penetration filled my heart to completion, submission,

  overflowing two into one—

  I couldn’t lose myself, in our ecstasies, such deep mysteries,

  found in the searchl
ight of our love

  Then the chorus, our voices blending just like our bodies did when we had sex, fluid, perfect, so right it brought tears to my eyes.

  One night, one life, one breath, one heart, one fire, one light, one love—

  A light so strong, there can be no night

  One night, one life, one breath, one heart, one love, one light, one love—

  A light so bright, there can never be a night

  When the song ended, Rob put his arm around my shoulders and we both took a bow as the lights went dark again. Then we were backstage again, both of us talking and laughing at once. I could barely catch my breath. And I couldn’t hear a thing he was saying because I still had earplugs in. I didn’t see the rest of the band, not even Tyler, so I knew they were done for the night. We had been the encore.

  Celeste ushered us back to Rob’s trailer where we had waited between rehearsal and the actual show. We always waited out the crowds before even attempting to get back to the hotel.

  I realized, as she shut the door behind us, I was still wearing Rob’s oversized jacket and had been, through the whole song. I hadn’t even paid attention to what I was wearing—a pair of yoga pants and a loose-fitting top, nothing special. My hair was pulled back and I couldn’t even remember if I’d put on make-up!

  “You are so fucking amazing.” Rob’s lips moved but I heard him like I was underwater, laughing as I reached up to remove my earplugs.

  “You planned that!” I cried, punching him on the arm as he pulled his earplugs out too, faking being hurt by my onslaught. “You jerk!”

  “Oh, I know, making you live the dream in front of all those people,” he said, covering his head as I grabbed one of the pillows off the bed at threw it at him. “I’m such a mean, mean man.”

  “You could have warned me!”

  “Then you wouldn’t have done it.”

  He was right. Damn him.

  “But you loved it, didn’t you?” He ducked another punch to grab me around the waist and tackle me to the bed.

  “Shut up!” I cried, but I was laughing as we rolled on the little twin mattress. The trailer was nice inside but not big enough for a double bed.