Ким Карр - Mended

“Don’t worry about it. You were actually a lot of fun and pretty entertaining.”

“Well, thank you for everything.” Meanwhile I’m wondering how the hell she thinks I was the least bit fun.

She places her hand over her smiling mouth like she’s putting on a show. “My pleasure,” she says, then adds, “I think I saw on your schedule that we’re both in Bristow, Virginia, next month. Call me and you can make it up to me then.”

“I will.” I’m starting to feel like the asshole Garrett just called me.

“’Bye, Garrett,” she says.

“Thanks for the delivery,” Garrett responds.

She climbs down the steps and disappears, waving to me as she goes.

“You’re a real knight in shining armor,” Garrett says mockingly, shaking his head.

I break loose from his grip. “I got this, man. I need a shower before I have to lie down and listen to the porn show going on.”

He laughs. “I’m guessing you were too drunk to get laid, then.”

“You could say that,” is all I say before hitting a cold shower for the second time today.

The black Escalade idles in downtown Manhattan. Rain pounds on the roof. Our show was rained out, so the band is heading to a Panic performance in New York’s Bowery Ballroom instead. We’re all ensconced in the chauffeured SUV outside the W, all except for Ivy. We’ve been waiting for her for at least twenty minutes. She got a phone call from Damon as we were walking out of the hotel and decided to take it in private. I try not to think about what that douchebag is talking to her about.

I’m in the front seat, turned around talking to Leif. We’re discussing the shredding abilities he demonstrated at last night’s show. Ivy sang a cover of “I Kissed a Girl” and out of nowhere Leif riffs during the chorus, making the song even more appealing to the audience.

“Hey, Xander, what’s with Panic’s underplay? I didn’t think they needed any promo assistance,” Nix calls to me.

Phoebe looks at him. “Underplay?”

He answers, “It’s when a big-name band performs in a small venue and instantly sells out. It helps get a new album noticed.”

“I think they’re a little nervous after coming off the momentum of their first two albums and because of the split. I think they just want to make sure they keep their groove going.”

The door finally opens and Ivy, covered by an umbrella, climbs in and sits next to Leif. She seems a little nervous and she’s definitely been crying. Leif leans over and whispers something in her ear. She answers him and he makes a face.

The driver slides the SUV into the traffic and spins a tight circle before accelerating. I stay twisted in my seat, my eyes glued on Ivy. “Is everything okay?”

She frowns and looks out the window¸ muttering, “Nothing that you need to worry about.”

My eyes flash to Leif’s and he shakes his head, making sure his eyes are locked on mine. He’s signaling me that everything is not okay. I turn around in my seat and watch the people on the street and the lights turning red and green, just waiting to get out of this car and talk to her.

We arrive at 6 Delancey Street, and it’s a mob scene. People are everywhere, waiting in line to get in, scalpers hovering to sell their tickets at a markup, and fans are camped out hoping to catch a glimpse of the lucky ones who got tickets and maybe even the band members themselves. Ellie somehow managed to get tickets for us. She’s been really on the ball and I’m thankful for her help.

The door opens and immediately we’re ushered through the crowds and into the club. Garrett and Nix stop at the bar to get drinks.

“Do you care what we get?” Garrett asks me.

I shrug my shoulders. “Anything is fine with me.”

I’ve had enough to drink the past couple of nights, so I’ll lie low on the alcohol tonight. I turn to ask Ivy what she wants, but she and Leif already went ahead. The place is split in two—one side is the bar and the other side is the club. On the club side, the room is decorated with big white wreaths and candelabras set on the balcony tables, and a violinist is standing to one side of the stage. A band I don’t know much about is already playing, but my mind isn’t on the show. It’s on Ivy and what’s going on.

As soon as I get the opportunity, I make my way over to her and stand behind her. Her hair’s pulled up on top of her head, and she’s wearing a tight sleeveless white dress with high-heeled silver sandals and her sapphire earrings, which sparkle in the light from the stage—she looks fucking amazing. But she’s also a little twitchy and constantly tucking pieces of her hair in place. I can tell the conversation with Damon really got to her.

“What’s going on?” I whisper in her ear loud enough so she can hear me but not loud enough so anyone else can.

She turns her head. “That was a really shitty thing to do!”

I whip her around to look at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Not showing up for the show so you could go out on a date with Amy.”

I sigh. “That’s not what happened.”

“Did you sleep with her last night?”

My jaw tenses. “No,” I snap and peg her with my eyes. “If I did, would you be jealous?”

“No.” She exhales. She presses her bright red lips together. “It’s none of my business anyway. Guess I was just curious. I shouldn’t have asked,” she says, shrugging and then looking back toward the stage.

“You can ask me anything, Ivy. You should know that.”

She doesn’t answer in any way—no words and no body language as she focuses on the stage.

I take the silence to mean that conversation is over, and so I shift back to my original question. “I asked you what’s going on with Damon. Why are you upset?”

She twists her head back toward me and her body leans into mine as her lips brush my ear. My hands move to her waist and I squeeze my fingers a little.

“Drinks for everyone,” Garrett says, shoving glasses toward both of us.

She steps forward and turns toward Garrett to take the glass. Wanting to close the last few inches she just put between us, I take a step in her direction and snatch the drink that Garrett practically shoves in my face.

“What the hell is this?” I ask, pointing to the pink straw extending out of the glass filled with ice and a blue liquid.

“It’s a mind eraser.”

Within moments Ivy sucks all of the liquid out of the glass in one swallow.

I follow suit and the cold liquid slides down my throat. “Fuck!” I yell. “That gave me a head rush.”

Ivy actually laughs, loudly. “It’s supposed to. That’s why it’s called a mind eraser.”

“Well, I’m done with those.”

She laughs again and I smile at her. For a moment there is no hostility, no tension . . . just us having a good time. I think I miss that most of all—the ease of being with her. Doing anything or nothing, we always had fun. She always made me laugh.

Garrett goes into detail about what the bartender put in the shot we just drank and then lists a multitude of other shots that have quirky effects. I’m not really listening to him—I’m thinking about Ivy and why she’d ask me about Amy, and about what’s going on with Damon. I just can’t stop thinking about her.

Finally, Panic takes the stage. It’s just them—no elaborate stage settings, no theatrics, just pure music. The kind of music I love. Ivy dances her way over toward Leif before I can bring us back to the conversation we left unfinished. He clutches her hips and starts dancing with her. He’s been pretty hands on since breaking up with his girl, and I’m starting to wonder if they do have something going on. As I watch them, the tension in my body starts to strain my muscles.

I try to direct my attention elsewhere for as long as I can. I watch the band, the people in the club, talk to Nix and Phoebe, compare notes with Garrett on the sound in the room, but my eyes keep landing on Ivy. Running my hand over the stubble on my jaw, I look at her with unrestrained longing, and she catches me. My heart skips in my chest when she sings along with the band and smiles at me. Watching her makes me weak in the knees. We stare at each other and I rock on my heels. She averts her eyes to pull her phone out of her purse. She glances at it and her smile fades quickly. When she shows the message to Leif, I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to drive myself crazy unless I talk to her.

Walking up to both of them, I address her. “Tell me what happened. I can tell you’re upset.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend.

“Everything’s fine,” Leif says, squeezing my shoulder.

I turn to him and with a scowl on my face, I hiss, “I was talking to Ivy.”

He puts his hands up in surrender and my gaze goes back to her. Her steely eyes stare into mine for the longest time, like she’s searching for something. Then finally she leans into me and on her tiptoes she whispers against my cheek, “It’s nothing, really. Damon just wants me back or he’s going to start legal action against me.”

Every muscle in my body freezes. How dare he threaten her! “Did you tell him to go fuck himself?”

“Xander, no, I didn’t. He’s serious. He doesn’t screw around. He says regardless of what my attorney says I’m in breach of contract—that I can’t just go out on my own without having the financial agreements prearranged. He’s going to sue me for everything I’ve earned on this tour.”

“I’m serious too, Ivy. You can do whatever you want. He doesn’t give a shit about the money—he just wants to control you. I hope you told him to take it all.”

Any softness in her gaze instantly drains from her eyes. “No, I didn’t. It’s none of your business anyway. I shouldn’t have told you.” She turns back toward Leif, who grasps her hips again as she runs her hand up his chest, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.