“I could say the same of you.” Nate knew of only one way to get Melody off this particular subject. “How are things between you and Kyle? Have you talked yet?”
“Did you know that Trent hired Hunter to DJ twice a month at Club T’s?”
“He mentioned something about it. I told him it was a bad idea.”
Hunter Graves was Melody’s ex-boyfriend. Several months ago he and Melody had run into each other in a New York City club. As they were leaving, to keep from getting separated while passing through the raucous crowd outside, Hunter had taken Melody’s hand as they headed to a waiting car. The paparazzi had snapped several pictures of the couple and the media had ruthlessly promoted its theory that the former lovers had reunited.
Back home, while Kyle hadn’t really believed Melody was cheating on him, he hadn’t appreciated seeing the woman he loved hand in hand with her ex. And the months of separation had created tension for the couple, making Kyle even more reactive.
Melody sighed in Nate’s ear. “And to answer your earlier question, Kyle and I have exchanged several texts, but we haven’t sat down to talk.”
“Don’t you think that should happen soon?”
“I’m afraid if we have the talk we’ll just end up fighting and the subject of us being over will come up.”
“Kyle hasn’t come to Las Vegas and taken over temporary management of Club T’s because he’s ready to give up on you two.”
“He’s here because Trent’s in LA with Savannah and the club needs a manager.” Melody’s voice had a ragged quality that tore at Nate’s heart. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I really hope you’re right about him, but I can’t stop feeling like he’s going to use what’s happened between us since that photo came out to rationalize that we’re not really meant to be together.”
“He’s not going to do that,” Nate said. “Especially after he finds out what’s really going on.”
“What do you mean by that?” Melody sounded more wary than confused.
“You forget how hard it is to keep secrets on tours.”
“You and Mia managed.”
“That’s because the only one we had to keep in the dark was Ivy, and in general she’s so preoccupied with herself that she isn’t sensitive to what’s going on around her.” Nate circled back to Melody’s problem. “When are you going to tell Kyle he’s going to be a father?”
“Damn. Who else knows?”
“Both Dan and Mike commented that you were looking a bit off and mentioned that their wives had both been sick like that when they were pregnant.”
“Why did they tell you?”
“Because you’re like my little sister and I’ve made it pretty clear all along that anyone who messed with you would get their ass kicked by me.”
Melody huffed out of a breath. “I can take care of myself.”
“Aww, that’s cute,” he mocked. “But you really can’t. You are too sweet for your own good and people take advantage of that.”
The same could be said of Mia. And his mother. Nate recognized he had a pattern when it came to women. He didn’t actively seek out those most in need of protecting, but he did tend to gravitate to the ones who had a hard time sticking up for themselves.
“And you don’t let anyone take care of you,” Melody countered. “Case in point, tomorrow’s surgery.”
“Okay, we’ve both poked at each other’s shortcomings long enough,” Nate said with a laugh. “I’ll shoot you a text tomorrow after it’s done and let you know how it went.”
“I’m not kidding about coming to LA to sit at your bedside.”
“And I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather you take care of things there.” He paused before delivering his final bit of advice. “Talk to Kyle. He’s going to be thrilled.”
“I will. Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
After talking with Melody, Nate made a reservation for four at WP24, Wolfgang Puck’s contemporary Asian restaurant on the twenty-fourth floor of the Ritz-Carlton. He selected this particular restaurant knowing Mia would love the downtown LA views and the blackberry soufflé with key lime ice cream for dessert. Once that was done, he texted her the details and then headed to grab a late lunch with his former buddy whose music career had nosedived six years ago, thanks to a drug problem, but who was making a small comeback.
Nate didn’t return to his hotel until nearly six. He spent the time before dinner Skyping with his mother and letting her know in rapid ASL about the surgery the following day. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about being able to communicate with her over the next two to three weeks while he was on total voice rest. If only the rest of his clients understood sign language, he might be able to maintain his work schedule with barely a hitch.
At a little before eight, Nate stepped off the elevator on the twenty-fourth floor of the Ritz-Carlton and approached the hostess. His pulse kicked up as he looked around for Mia, but he didn’t see her or her family. The hostess confirmed they’d not yet arrived, and escorted him to a table by the windows. When the waiter arrived, Nate ordered a vodka on the rocks with a twist of lime. Normally he’d wait until his party showed up, but he expected Mia and her family to be late and they didn’t disappoint them. What he hadn’t expected, however, was Mia’s absence.
Nate stood as Ivy approached. She wore a strapless emerald dress that clung to her slim body and brought out the gold flecks in her brown eyes. Her five-inch heels put a sexy sway in her stride.
“Nate,” she cried in delight as if they were the best of friends. “It’s so wonderful to see you.”
They hadn’t gotten along particularly well on the tour. She’d made demands on everyone from the roadies to the tour manager, and some of her requests had been ridiculous. The amount of time Nate had spent running interference hadn’t sat well with him. And he had a particular distaste for how she treated Mia.
“Hello, Ivy,” he said, pushing down his annoyance at how he’d been stood up earlier. “Good evening, Javier.” He reached out his hand to Ivy’s father, a handsome dark-haired man trailing in the pop star’s wake. One member of the party was missing. “I made the reservation for four. Will Mia be joining us?”
Ivy settled into the chair beside his. “She wanted to come, but what’s the point?”
The annoyance that flared in his gut was familiar. Everything about this spoiled narcissistic brat made him long to hand off her album project to another producer, but his whole purpose in working with Ivy was to have time with Mia.
“The point is I invited her.”
“I thought the point of this meeting tonight was to discuss Ivy’s album,” Javier said, coming down on his daughter’s side. “Mia’s presence is unnecessary.”
“Of course.” Giving in was exceedingly painful. Nate could only imagine the conversation that had kept Mia away, and his heart ached that she’d received yet another slight from the people who should have had her best interests in mind.
The waiter approached before Nate could say anything more. Ivy ordered champagne and Javier ordered a gin and tonic.
“I’ve heard the food here is quite good,” Javier said.
Ivy