Well Rocked by Clara Bayard

Author:Clara Bayard [Bayard, Clara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1491252847
Amazon: B00E9DGJ1S
Goodreads: 18167838
Published: 2013-07-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

The next day there wasn’t time for talking to Dex or anything but work. The guys had interviews all day and then the night off. The next day was our last show in Paris. I had a ton of work, including untangling the mess Mia had made of the band’s online presence. I was tucked away in a corner of the suite we’d rented to host the journalists, trying to concentrate on what was in front of me. But Rick’s words kept playing over and over in my head and I found myself staring at the guys as they chatted and posed for photos.

Joe, as always, was the consummate professional. He charmed everyone, commanding the room. But I could see a bit of strain around his eyes. Probably because Liss would be going back to the States in a few days. I was going to miss her too, so he must have been crushed. Even though we weren’t halfway through the tour yet, it felt like an ending.

Dex and Matthew were huddled close. An unlikely pair, from physical to personality differences, their closeness was obvious. Dex seemed to bring the shorter man out of his shell a bit, and Matthew inspired a sweet, protective side of Dex.

And then there was Rick. Standing apart from the others, he only engaged a reporter when asked a specific question, and his face never cracked a smile for a photograph. I wondered why he was even in the band if everything made him so angry.

I frowned and turned my attention back to the work I was doing. Ryan had charged me with working harder, and I was going to do just that. Push away my own confusion and get things in order. I needed to prove to him that I could rise to the challenge. And I needed to prove to myself that no matter what happened, I could do my job and do it well.

And somewhere, in the middle of lists and calls and everything else, I stopped thinking about my problems and just enjoyed doing what I liked. From an early age, maybe as a response to the chaos of the creative-types surrounding me, I loved organizing things. Closets, boxes, books, anything. When I had nightmares, instead of crawling into bed with my father, I’d go into his home studio and arrange sheet music and his files.

Then, after he had the stroke, there was so much to do. A house to clean and organize. Boxes in the house, the garage, a storage facility. I whipped through it all, Getting his life in order while my heart ached with worry.

Even when he’d gone into the care home, I made sure his room was perfectly arranged. Selling the house had provided more distractions that appealed to my meticulous nature. Selling things, donating others, keeping a few mementos, I’d spend hours going through the remnants of his old life. Remembering good times and bad. Crying alone, surrounded by my past.

Maybe it was obsessive or weird, but I was good at keeping things together, even when I was falling apart.

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