“Yeah. My stomach’s a knot, though.”
“It’s okay. Trust me on this, huh? Of any group of people, these people have your back.”
“Yeah.”
When they entered the room together, it almost seemed like everyone was waiting to see how Bonnie would react. While they had several women on the payroll, including techs and roadies, it was still a majority of men.
Once the hotel staff had served them and left them alone in the room, everyone focused on Mevi, waiting on him to say something, the way he’d always kicked off these dinners. In fact, the dinners had started because of him, an idea he’d had to try to keep their band from falling into the traps many other groups did.
This dinner felt far different than the one at the very start of the tour, in Chicago. Because while people didn’t know the deets, they all knew Mevi and Bonnie had a fall-out of epic proportions, one unlike anything before.
Mevi stood and picked up his glass of water, staring at it for a moment as everyone fell silent and watched him, waiting.
“I’m sorry,” he started. “I owe everyone in this room an apology I should have given you in Chicago. Something that was never a problem in the past became an issue that nearly destroyed me. I developed an alcohol addiction because I started falling back on it as a crutch. You all know what that fucker David did to me financially, and you were amazing in your support and love of me through all of that. This is solely on me. I take full and complete responsibility for it.
“I wouldn’t have blamed you all if you hadn’t given me another chance. If you’d written me off and sent me packing. You would have had every right to do it. But me…”
Fear gripped him, yet he pushed through it. “But me making full amends and taking full accountability means I need to admit something to all of you. I need it to stay private. To not leave this room.”
He glanced down at Bonnie, who’d sat next to him. She smiled encouragingly, nodding to him.
“I’ve already talked with Bonnie, and we’ve patched things up between us. The first and greatest apology and amends I owed was to her, because of the personal nature of this. Because I used her through the years. Not meaning to hurt her, but trying to protect myself and the band. She deserved far better than that from me.”
Another deep breath. “I’m gay.”
He glanced around the room, waiting, as some of them exchanged confused glances.
It was Garth who finally broke the fragile silence. “So? Is that the big deal?”
“What do you mean?” Mevi asked him.
“I mean exactly that. Your big secret is that you’re gay? Seriously?” He let out a harsh laugh. “Here I was, panicking you were going to reveal you had cancer or something. Fuck, man. Don’t scare us like that. Asshole.”
Many in the room nodded, also looking relieved.
“You…you’re okay with that?”
Troy rolled his eyes and turned to face everyone else. They were all seated around the tables, the main band at the head of a U-shaped arrangement. “All non-straights, hold up your hands. Including you kinky fucks who frequently ‘experiment.’”
A good half of them did.
“There,” Troy said. “You feel better now? Can we eat?”
“I…if this gets out, I don’t want it to be a distraction. I’d rather it not get out. At least, not right now. I have my reasons.”
“Yeah, fine. That’s cool. Can we eat now?”
This wasn’t anything like the reaction he’d expected. “I mean…you’re not mad at me for lying all these years?”
Pasch slowly shook his head. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m irritated at you for stringing Bonnie along all these years and causing fights, yeah. That’s her business, not mine. And I’m pissed off you thought we wouldn’t accept the real you. But that’s your business if you want to stay in the closet, not mine. Jesus Christ, give us some fucking credit, though. I thought we’re friends.”
Mevi’s hand shook as he took a sip of his water. “I’m sorry. Bonnie is going to help me keep this quiet for the rest of the tour. I don’t want the focus to be on me or my sex life. I want it to be on the band. I want to record our next album. I want to write music.”
He took a deep breath. “The band is my life. Music is my life. I don’t want us to fail because of me.”
“Then keep your head out of a bottle, dude,” Garth said, standing to hug him, as did Pasch and Troy. “Will it help if we make the common spaces totally dry for the rest of the run?”
“No, other people drinking doesn’t bother me.” He still had trouble processing that this was as…easy as it’d been.
Like maybe he was missing a step and doing something wrong.
“And I apologize to all of you,” he said to the rest of the crew. “I know some of you aren’t straight. I didn’t mean to disrespect any of you by not coming out sooner.”
It became one long hug fest as he worked his way around the tables, hugging everyone, before returning to his seat. He was in tears, wiping at his eyes as he did.
Bonnie smiled and hugged him last. “See? Told you.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“We’re family,” she insisted. “We always have been.” She raised her voice, addressing the rest of the room. “And yes, Mevi and I have patched things up. I get why he did what he did. It’s private between us. We talked, and he and I are okay. No more tiptoeing around us, okay?”
She smiled as she said it, earning some easy-sounding laughter from around the tables.
Garth raised his hand. “Now can we talk about tomorrow night, please? What we’re going to play? We never decided that. I was thinking keeping it softer, maybe an unplugged style. They told us there will be a couple dozen kids there, from about eight years old and up. I don’t want to do a loud set and startle them.”
“We can do that,” Mevi said, using his napkin to wipe his eyes, still struggling to absorb how…simple this had been. “I think that’s a great idea.”
When they finished up a little after eleven, the five of them walked to their rooms, where they were all gathered at the far end of a top-floor wing, hotel security on guard to prevent anyone from sneaking down there. As they all hugged Mevi good-night and retreated to their rooms, eventually he and Bonnie stood alone in the hallway.
“If you can’t sleep,” she said, “knock. We’ll watch TV together.” She kissed his cheek before retiring to her room.
Fighting another bout of tears, he turned and let himself into his room. As he locked the door behind him and slumped against it, he rubbed his left thumb over the tats on the inside of his right wrist.
No, as much as that idea was tempting, he couldn’t.
Not yet, anyway.
Giving up wasn’t an option yet. Putting a period on his story.
Maybe it was stupid, but he would continue to punish himself until he could make amends to the man he knew he’d hurt.
Only then could he finally release that burden and try to move on.
One way, or another.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tilly called Doyle bright and early two mornings later, not long after he’d accompanied Pippa to the studio for her call time. They’d given him a radio and he’d retreated to Pippa’s trailer to wait until she was done. If she needed him, a PA would call him, and he was a two-minute walk away. He’d started increasing their time apart to help her with the transitioning process to being alone again. Meanwhile, he could monitor radio traffic and keep tabs on how things were going.
“The stuff I ordered should be here tomorrow,” Tilly said by way of greeting. “What are your plans for tonight?”
He sipped his coffee. “Good morning to you, too.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“I’ll have to play it by ear and see how Pippa’s doing. A solid maybe. I can’t give you a better answer than that.”
“Is it a closed set, or can you get me in so we can talk?”
“I’m in her trailer ri
ght now. She’s in hair and makeup. Where are you?”
“I’m over on the north side in building B.”
He craned his neck. In the damp, grey early morning, he could see the buildings over on that side of the property. “Come on over. You’re inside the secure area. Wear your ID.”
“Duh. What trailer?”
He told her how to find him, and fifteen minutes later, she arrived. It was weird seeing her pull up in a right-hand-drive car. He hated driving in Britain and was glad that Pippa’s studio provided them with transportation every day. They had a rental car parked back at the hotel, but if he could avoid driving, he was happy to. Tilly carried a drink carrier with two coffee cups, which he welcomed, since he’d just finished his.
He opened the door for her. “Hey. That was fortuitous timing.” He held up his empty cup. “I need a refill.”
“I have my own coffeemaker,” she said, handing him one, along with sugar and creamers. “Love these people, but their coffee is shit. I will, however, cede them superior tea skills.”
He sipped it. “Nice. Gourmet?”
“Keurig.” She grinned. “I’m a diva. I admit it. I want what I want.”
He decided not to put things off. “What’d Clark say when you told him you’d found me?” He didn’t want to ask what—if anything—Mevi had said.
She glanced out the window. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“What?”
“I haven’t told him I found you, much less that I talked to you.”
“What about the others? Leigh and them?”
She shook her head before sipping her coffee. “Nope. Not any of their business. Besides, they’re not over here yet. They’re due in next weekend. Schedule change. I told the office staff I was handling some personal stuff this morning.”
Her gaze pinned him in place. “You going to let me take you out to dinner tonight so we can talk alone and uninterrupted?”
“Do you have a babysitter?”
“Since the baby’s in Florida with Landry, I’d say yes, I’d better have guaranteed child care, or he’d better run far and fast when I get home.” She smiled. “Fatherhood suits them both well. Talk about one spoiled little princess.”
He did want to spend time with her.
Scratch that. He needed to. To help regain some mental stability, if nothing else. Professional to professional, he knew she’d keep his confidences, even if they hadn’t been friends.
“Let me see how Pippa’s feeling later. She’s scheduled to be here until at least four.”
“Deal.” He knew that look all too well, and while it took her a moment to speak again, he’d suspected what she wanted to say even before she said it. “How are you doing?”
He didn’t bother insulting her intelligence or their friendship by lying. “White-knuckling.” He forced a smile. “I swear, once my time with Pippa ends, I’ll take some me time. I just can’t right now.”
“Are you really in a position to help her, though? In your current frame of mind?”
“I am. I won’t take on another client without downtime first, though.”
“What about The Compound?”
“Working there is different. It’s not as intense. It’s not all day, every day, twenty-four-seven like this is. I get breaks from them and have other staff who help them, not just me. I go home every night. Not that it feels much like home anymore. Being in Florida reminded me how much I miss it and everyone there.”
She set her coffee aside and leaned in for a hug, which he returned after setting his cup down. “Be kind to yourself,” she said.
“No lecture about me calling Clark, huh?”
“No,” she softly said. “That’s all up to you. But do you still love Mevi?”
He wished he could answer differently. “Yeah. My biggest regret. Even bigger than marrying Kathy without telling her I was bi. Although in that case, I hadn’t yet really admitted to myself I was bi when we got married. Problem is, I don’t see any way a relationship with Mevi ends happily. Especially not after how I left—if he really does love me and wasn’t playing me—and not with the logistics. So maybe it’s better I just let him go.”
“I think before you decide that for him that you should at least give the guy closure.”
He couldn’t answer her right away.
“You’re right.” He picked at his cuticle. “I’ll call Clark in a couple of weeks and pass along a message that I’d like to talk to Mevi. But not right now. Not with Pippa still needing me. I don’t have the strength to spread myself thin like that.”
Before Tilly returned to her office, she gave him one more hug. “So I’ll see you tonight unless you cancel. Dress nice. Not formal, but…nice. I’ll pick you up. No offense, the only thing I hate more than driving in this country is riding with someone as uncomfortable as I am at driving here.”
He laughed. “Because we’ve known each other so long, I’ll cede that one to you.”
“Cool. Because otherwise I’d have to knock you out and dump you in my trunk to get you there.” She grinned.
* * * *
Doyle heard Tilly knock on their suite door, but Pippa beat him to answering it. He knew the woman was starved for honest attention from people who weren’t trying to get something from her.
He couldn’t blame her. It was an all-too-common phenomenon. Especially among stars who didn’t have well-grounded personal staff they’d known before they were famous, people who weren’t simply hangers-on. Because of Tilly’s protective and nurturing personality, Pippa naturally gravitated to her.
“Hello, darling!” Pippa eagerly hugged her.
“Hey, kiddo.” She carried a small gift bag that she handed to Pippa. “This is for you.”
“Really? Aww, thank you!” She opened it and let out a happy squeal. “Mint Oreos!” She practically draped herself around Tilly. “Thank you, love!”
“How’d you swing those?” Doyle asked, amused and touched at how thoughtful Tilly’s gift was. He hadn’t discussed it with Tilly, so she must have picked that up from their talks at dinner the other night.
“I had Landry overnight two packages of them to me. Along with a couple of other things I needed that I’d forgotten, like thumb drives. I figured why not?”
“You are bloody amazing, Tilly!” Pippa was already trying to rip one of the packages open.
Doyle took it from her to show her the tab on top before she ruined the package.
“I think she’s in love with you now, Til,” he teased, handing the cookies back.
“These are my absolute favorite biscuits!” Pippa pulled one out and looked close to blissful as she nibbled on it. “I totally fell in love with these when I had to film in America last year. Even the regular ones taste different than the ones here.”
“Enjoy,” Doyle told her. “And if you need me, call me.”
“I promise. Night in front of the telly for me. I have the meditation album on my iPod I can play.”
“Good.” He grabbed his overcoat and gloves and let Tilly lead the way.
“You really good with my backward driving?” she snarked as they waited for the elevator. “Or you giving in because you know what a pain in the ass I am, and that I’ll just get my way anyway?”
“Your driving can’t be any worse than mine,” he said. “I hate driving here.”
“Car park,” she said in a British accent. “Lift. Nappies. Biscuits.” Then, back to Tilly. “I mean, they even talk weird. Why do they call cookies ‘biscuits?’ Chips are ‘crisps’ and fries are ‘chips.’ I just don’t get it. Sneakers are ‘trainers.’ Like most fucking people wearing sneakers aren’t training for anything other than sitting their ‘arses’ in front of the ‘telly.’ I don’t care what Landry promised me, nearly a dozen damn seasons and counting of Doctor Who still has not prepared me for this. And it’s fucking wet and cold.”
They stepped into the elevator.
“That was your first mistake. You should have watched Fawlty Towers. Fu
nny as fuck. And Landry’s a sadist. He just wants you to watch the whole series with him. Where are you up to, then? Tennant or Capaldi?”
“Who?”
He snorted, resisting the urge to turn the conversation into a sci-fi version of “Who’s on First?” “The actor playing the Doctor. Which one is he?”
“Baker. I think. I don’t know. Clown hair and a long-ass scarf. He’s like the fourth one we’ve watched now.”
“Oh, damn.” He laughed. “Landry started you with Hartnell in the original series?”
“Um, suuuure. It was in black and white, if that helps.”
“You still have a long ways to go, honey. You’re not even like halfway through the entire series yet.” They stepped out into the lobby and Doyle lifted a hand to the concierge as they passed. “Where’d you park?”
Now she went Cockney. “I slipped the guv’ner a quid I did to let me park right out front, what.”
“No,” he said. “You’re definitely an East Londoner kind of girl.”
She smirked. “Kiss my ass, Dr. Freud.”
That was one-hundred-percent Florida Cracker.
* * * *
“So where are we going?” Doyle wasn’t familiar with the area at all, but Tilly seemed to know exactly where they were going without even needing GPS.
“Dinner. Charity thing. Leigh and Lucas bought the tickets, but when their schedule changed, they handed them off to me.” She smiled at him. “Pediatric hospital that specializes in cancer research.”
“Ah. Worthy cause.”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
“Am I dressed okay?” He looked at his slacks and blazer, his overcoat protecting him against the damp drizzle.
“You’re fine. I would have made you change if you weren’t. It’s not a formal affair. It’s for kids and their families. Some of them will be there, talking about their experiences. Survivors and current patients.”
They weren’t in London proper, it appeared. In fact, it looked to be more rural, large houses and acres of land, upper class, if he had to guess.
“Where’s this being held at?”