"So, hang on, this song isn't about his dog dying or something?"

"You're not funny," I laughed.

"I so am." Jackson sniggered at the opposite end of the couch as Tim McGraw let rip about his kind of rain on the flat screen TV taking up the opposite wall. "Why do they all wear such big hats, do you think? I have a theory."

"Shush."

The way these people lived blew my tiny little mind. Jackson, lived in a place at the beach that was mostly a three-story architectural feat of steel and glass. It was amazing. Not ridiculously huge like the place in the hills, but awe-inspiring just the same. My Dad would have been in raptures over the minimalism of it, the cleanliness of the lines or some such. I just appreciated having a friend in my time of need.

Jack's house was clearly a bachelor pad-slash-den of iniquity. I'd had a vague notion to make lunch to thank him for taking me in but there wasn't a single speck of food in the house. Beer filled the fridge and vodka the freezer. Oh, no, there was a bag of oranges used as wedges to go with shots of vodka, apparently. He'd ruled out touching those. His super slick coffee machine, however, made everything right. He even had decent beans. I wowed him by busting out a few of my barista moves. After drinking three cups in the space of an hour, I felt a lot more like my old well-planned, caffeinated self.

Jack dialed for pizza and we watched TV late into the night. Mostly he found his joy in mocking my taste in pretty much everything: movies, music, the lot. At least he did it good-naturedly. We couldn't go outside because a couple of photographers were waiting on the beach. I felt bad about it but he'd just shrugged it off.

"What about this song?" he asked. "You like this?"

Miranda Lambert strode on screen in a cool '50s frock and I grinned. "Miranda is mighty."

"I've met her."

I sat up straight. "Really?"

More sniggering from Jack. "You're impressed I've met Miranda Lambert but you didn't even know who I was. Honestly, woman, you are hard on the ego."

"I saw the gold and platinum records lining the hallway, buddy. I'm thinking you can take it."

He snorted.

"You know, you remind me a lot of my brother." I almost managed to duck the bottle cap he flicked at me. It bounced off my forehead. "What was that for?"

"Can't you at least pretend to worship me?"

"No. Sorry."

With total disregard for my Lambert love, Jack started surfing the channels. Home shopping, football, Gone with the Wind, and me. Me on TV.

"Wait," I said.

He groaned. "Not a good idea."

First my school pictures paraded past, followed by one of Rosé and me at our senior prom. They even had a reporter standing across the road from Irene's, prattling on about my life before being elevated to the almighty status of Lisa's wife. And then there was the woman herself in some concert footage, guitar in her hands as she sang backup. The lyrics were your typical my-woman-is-mean, "She's my one and only, she's got me on my knees …" I wondered if she'd write songs about me. If so, odds were they'd be highly uncomplimentary. "Shit." I hugged a couch cushion tight to my chest.

Jack leaned over and fluffed my hair. "Lisa's the favorite, darlin'. She's pretty, plays guitar, and writes the songs. Girlies faint when she walks by. Team that with your being a young 'un and you've got the news of the week."

"I'm twenty-one."

"And she's twenty-six. It's enough of a difference if they hype it just right." Jack sighed. "Face it, child bride. You got married in Vegas by an Elvis impersonator to one of rock 'n' roll's favorite daughter. It was always bound to cause a shit storm. Given there's also been some crap going on with the band lately … what with Jimmy partying like it's 1999 and Lis losing her music-writing mojo. Well, you get the picture. But next week, someone else will do something wacky and all the attention will move on."

"I guess so."

"I know so. People are constantly fucking up. It's a glorious thing." He sat back with his hands behind his head. "Go on, smile for Uncle Jack. You know you want to."

I smiled half-heartedly.

"That's a bullshit smile and I'm ashamed of you. You're not going to fool anyone with that. Try again."

I tried harder, smiling 'til my cheeks hurt.

"Damn. Now you just look like you're in pain."

Banging on the front door interrupted our merriment.

Jack raised his brows at me. "Wondered how long she'd take."

"What?" I trailed him to the front door, lurking behind a divider just in case it was more press.

He opened the door and Lisa charged in, face tight and furious. "You piece of shit. You better not have touched her. Where is she?"

"The child bride is otherwise occupied." Jack cocked his head, taking Lisa in with a cool glance. "Why the fuck do you even care?"

"Don't start with me. Where is she?"

Quietly, Jack shut the door, facing off against his friend. I hesitated, hanging back. Alright, so I skulked in a cowardly fashion. Whatever.

Jack crossed his arms. "You left her to face Adrian and three lawyers on her own. You, my friend, are most definitely the piece of shit in this particular scenario."

"I didn't know Adrian would go at her with all that."

"You didn't want to know," said Jack. "Lie to everyone else out there, Lis. Not me. And sure as fuck not to yourself."

"Back off."

"You need some serious life advice, friend."

"Who are you, Oprah?"

Coughing out a laugh, Jack slumped against the wall. "Hell, yeah. Soon I'm gonna be giving out cars, so stick around."

"What did she say?"

"Who, Oprah?"

Lisa just scowled at him. She didn't even notice me spying. Sad to say, even a scowling Lisa was a thing of rare beauty. She did things to me. Complicated things. My heart tripped about in my chest. The anger and emotion in her voice couldn't be concern for me. That made no sense, not after last night and this morning. I had to be projecting and it sucked that I even wanted her to care. My head made no sense. Getting away from this girl was the safest option all round.

"Lis, she was so upset she took a swing at me."

"Bullshit."

"I kid you not. She was nearly in tears when I found her," said Jack.

I banged my forehead in silent agony against the wall. Why the hell did Jack have to tell her that?

My wife hung her head. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Seems you didn't mean for a shitload to happen." Jack shook his head and tutted. "Did you even mean to marry her, dude? Seriously?"

Lisa's face screwed up, her brow doing the wrinkly James Dean thing again. "I don't know anymore, okay? Fuck. I went to Vegas because I was so sick of all this shit and I met her. She was different. She seemed different that night. I just … I wanted something outside of all this fucking idiocy for a change."

"Poor Lizzy. Did being a rock god get old?"

"Where is she?"

"I feel your pain, bro. Really, I do. I mean, all you wanted was a girl that wouldn't kiss your ass for once and now you're pissed at her for the same damn reason. It's complicated, right?"

"Fuck you. Leave it alone, Jack. It's done." My wife huffed out a breath. "Anyway, she's the one who wanted the fucking divorce. Why aren't you giving her the third degree, huh?"

With a dramatic sigh, Jack flung out his arms. "Because she's really busy hiding around the corner, listening. I can't disturb her now."

Lisa's body stilled and her blue eyes found me. "Jennie."

Huh. Busted.

I stepped away from the wall and tried to put on a happy face. It didn't work. "Hi."

"She says that so well." Jack turned to me and winked. "So did you really ask the mighty Lisa Manoban for a divorce?"

"She threw up on me when I told her we were married," my wife reported.

"What?" Jackson dissolved into laughter, tears leaking from his eyes. "Are you serious? Fucking hell, that is fantastic. Oh, man, I wish I'd been there."

I gave Lisa what I hoped to be the meanest look in all of time and space. She stared back, unimpressed.

"It was the floor," I clarified. "I didn't throw up on her."

"That time," said Lisa.

"Please keep going," said Jack, laughing harder than ever. "This just gets better and better."

Lisa didn't. Thank God.

"Seriously, I fucking love your wife, man. She's awesome. Can I have her?"

The look I got from Lisa spoke of a much more reluctant affection. With the line between her brows, it was closer to outright irritation. I blew her a kiss. She looked away, hands fisted like she was barely holding herself back from throttling me. The feeling was entirely mutual.

Ah, marital bliss.

"You two are just the best." A chiming sound came from Jack's pocket and he pulled out a cell phone. Whatever he saw on the screen stopped his laughter dead. "You know, you should take her to your house, Lis."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Lisa's mouth pulled wide in a truly pained expression.

I didn't think it was a good idea either. Happily, I'd go through life without setting foot inside the house of horrors ever again. Maybe if I asked Jack nicely he'd fetch my stuff for me. Imposing on him further didn't appeal, but I was running low on options.

"Whoa." With a grim face, Jack shoved his cell at Lisa.

"Fuck," Lisa mumbled. She wrapped her hand around the back of her neck and squeezed. The worried glance she gave me from beneath her dark brows set every alarm ringing inside my head. Whatever was on that screen was bad.

Really bad.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Oh, you, ah … you don't need to worry about it." Her gaze dropped to the phone again then she passed it back to Jack. "My place would be cool, actually. We should do that. Fun. Yeah."

"No." For Lisa to be so nice to me it had to be something truly bad. I held out my hand, fingers twitching from impatience or nerves or a bit of both. "Show me."

After a reluctant nod from Lisa, Jack handed it over.

There could be no doubting what it was, even on the small screen. There was a lot of skin on account of my being bare from the waist down. My naked butt sat front and centre in all its pale, dimpled glory. God, it looked huge. Had they used a wide lens camera or something? The party dress had been pushed up and I stood, bent over a table while a tattoo artist worked hard inking my rear. My panties had been cinched down, barely covering the basics. Shit. Talk about a compromising position. Taking part in a porn shoot was definitely not part of the plan.

At the other end of the frame, our faces were close together and Lisa was smiling. Huh. So that was what she looked like when she smiled.

I remembered it then, the buzz of the needle, and her talking to me, holding my hands. At first, that needle had stung. "You were pretending to bite my fingers. The tattoo artist got mad at us for messing around."

Lisa tipped her chin. "Yeah. You were s'posed to be keeping still."

I nodded, trying to remember more but coming up empty.

People would see this picture. People had seen this. People I knew and strangers both. Anyone and everyone. My head spun woozily the same as it had then. Only alcohol wasn't at fault this time.

"How did they get it?" I asked, my voice wavering and my heart at my toes. Or maybe that was just what remained of my tattered dignity.

Lisa gave me sad eyes. "I don't know. We were in a private room. This should never have happened but people get offered a lot of money for this sort of thing."

I nodded and handed Jack back his phone. My hand shook. "Right. Well …"

They both just looked at me, faces tense, waiting for me to burst into tears or something. Not happening.

"It's okay," I said, doing my best to believe it.

"Sure," said Jack.

Lisa shoved her hands into her pockets. "It's not even that clear a picture."

"No, it's not," I agreed. The pity in her eyes was more than I could take. "Excuse me a minute."

Fortunately, the closest bathroom was only a short dash away. I locked the door and sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi, trying to slow my breathing, trying to be calm. There was nothing I could do. The picture was already out there. This was no death and dismemberment. It was a stupid picture of me in a compromising position showing more skin than I liked, but so what. Big deal. Accept it and move on. Despite the fact that everyone I knew would likely see it. Worse things had happened in the history of the world. I just needed to put it in context and stay calm.

"Jen?" Lisa tapped lightly on the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yep." No. Not really.

"Let me in?"

I gave the door a pained look.

"Please."

Slowly, I stood and flicked the lock. Lisa wandered in and shut the door behind her. No ponytail today. Her dark hair hung down, framing her face. She had three small silver earrings in one ear playing peek-a-boo behind her hair. I stared at them because meeting her eyes was out of the question. I was not going to cry. Not about this. What the hell was even wrong with my eyes lately? Letting her in had been dumb.

With a heavy frown she stared down at me. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Yeah, it is. I should have looked after you better."

"No, Lisa." I swallowed hard. "We were both drunk. God, this is all so horrifically, embarrassingly stupid."

She just stared at me.

"Sorry."

"Hey, you're allowed to be upset. That was a private moment. It shouldn't be out there."

"No," I agreed. "I … actually, I'd like to be alone for a minute."

She made a growly noise and suddenly her arms wrapped around me, pulling me in against her. She caught me off guard and I stumbled, my nose bumping into her chest. It hurt. But she smelled good. Clean, and good. Familiar. Some part of me remembered being this close to her and it was comforting. Something in my mind said 'safe'. But I couldn't remember how or why.

A hand moved restlessly over my back.

"I'm sorry," she said. "So fucking sorry."

The kindness was too much. Stupid tears flowed. "I'd hardly even shown anyone my ass and now it's all over the internet."

"I know, baby."

She rested her head against the top of mine, holding on tight as I blubbered into her T-shirt. Having someone to hold onto helped. It would be okay. Deep down I knew it would be. But right then I couldn't see my way clear. Standing there with her arms around me felt right.

I don't know when we started swaying. Lisa rocked me gently from side to side as if we were dancing to some slow song. The overwhelming temptation to stay like that with my face pressed into her shirt was what made me step back, pull myself together. Her hands sat lightly on my hips, the connection not quite broken.

"Thanks," I said.

"S'okay." The front of her shirt had a damp patch, care of me.

"Your shirt's all wet."

She shrugged.

I ugly-cried. It was a gift of mine. The mirror confirmed it, demon-red eyes and flushed fluoro-pink cheeks. With an awkward smile I stepped away from her and her hands fell back to her sides. I splashed my face with water and dried it on a towel while she stood idly by, frowning.

"Let's go for a drive," she said.

"Really?" I gave her a dubious look. Lisa and me alone? Given the marriage situation and our previous sober encounters it didn't seem the wisest plan.

"Yeah." she rubbed her hands together, getting all enthused. "Just you and me. We'll get out of here for a while."

"Lisa, like you said out there, I don't think that's a good idea."

"You want to stay in LA?" she scoffed.

"Look, you've been really sweet since you stepped through that door. Well, apart from telling Jack about me puking on you. That was unnecessary. But in the preceding twenty-four hours you dumped me alone in a room, went off with a groupie, accused me of trying to get it on with your brother and sicced your posse of lawyers onto me."

She said nothing.

"Not that you going off with a groupie is any of my business. Of course."

She turned on her heel and paced to the other end of the bathroom, her movements tight, angry. Despite it being five times the size of the one back home, it still didn't leave enough room for a showdown like this. And she was between me and the door. Because suddenly exiting seemed a smart move.

"I just asked them to sort out the paperwork," she said.

"And they sure did." I put my hands on my hips, standing my ground. "I don't want any of your money."

"I heard." Her face was carefully blank. My statement prompted in her none of the disbelief or mockery it had in the suited bullies. Lucky for her. I doubt she believed me, but at least she was willing to pretend. "They're drawing up new papers."

"Good." I stared her down. "You don't have to pay me off. Don't make assumptions like that. If you want to know something, ask. And I was never going to sell the story to the press. I wouldn't do that."

"Okay." she slumped against the wall, leaning her head back to stare up at nothing. "Sorry," she told the ceiling. I'm sure the plasterwork appreciated it immensely.

When I made no response, her gaze eventually found me. It had to be wrong, or at the very least immoral, to be so pretty. Normal people didn't stand a chance. My heart took a dive every time I looked at her. No, a dive didn't cover it. It plummeted.

Where was Rosé to tell me I was being melodramatic when I needed her most?

"I'm sorry, Jen," she repeated. "I know the last twenty-four hours have been shit. Offering to get out of here for a while was my way of trying to make things better."

"Thank you," I said. "And also for coming in here to check on me."

"No problem." She stared at me, eyes unguarded for once. And the honesty in her gaze changed things for me, the brief flash of something more. Sadness or loneliness, I don't know. A kind of weariness that was there and gone before I could understand. But it left its mark. There was a lot more to this woman than a pretty face and a big name. I needed to remember that and not make my own assumptions.

"You really want to go?" I asked. "Really?"

Her eyes were bright with amusement. "Why not?"

I gave her a cautious smile.

"We can talk over whatever we need to, just you and me. I need to make a couple of calls then we'll head off, okay?"

"Thank you. I'd like that."

With a parting nod she opened the door and strode back out. She and Jack talked quietly about something in the lounge room. I took the opportunity to wash my face once more and finger-brush my hair for luck. The time had come to take control. Actually, it was well overdue. What was I doing, bouncing from one disaster to the next? That wasn't me. I liked being in control, having a plan. Time to stop worrying about what I couldn't change and take decisive action on what I could. I had money saved up. One of these days my poor old car would die and I'd been planning accordingly. Because once winter hit, and things turned cold, gray, and wet, walking wouldn't always appeal. The thought of using my savings didn't fill me with glee, but emergency measures and all that.

Lisa's lawyers would draw up papers minus the money and I would sign them. No point worrying about that side of things. However, getting out of the public eye for a couple of weeks was well within my capabilities. I just needed to stop and think for a change instead of reacting. I was a big girl and I could take care of myself. The time had come to prove it. I'd go for the drive with her, sort out the basics, and get gone, first on a hide-away holiday, and then back to my very ordinary, well ordered life devoid of any rock-star interventions.

Yes.

"Give me the keys to the Jeep," said Lisa, squaring off against Jack in the lounge.

Jack winced. "I was joking about giving away cars."

"Come on. Quit bitching. I rode over on the bike and I don't have a helmet for her."

"Fine." With a sour face Jack dropped his car keys into Lisa's outstretched hand. "But only cause I like your wife. Not a scratch, you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah." Lisa turned and saw me. A hint of a smile curled her lips.

Except for that first day on the bathroom floor, I'd never seen her smile, never even seen her come close. This bare trace of one made me light up inside. My knees wobbled. That couldn't be normal. I shouldn't be feeling all warm and happy just because she was. I couldn't afford to have any feelings for her at all. Not if I wanted to get out of this in one piece.

"Thanks for putting up with me today, Jack," I said.

"The pleasure was all mine," he drawled. "Sure you wanna go with her, child bride? Fucktard here made you cry. I make you laugh."

Lisa's smile disappeared and she strode to my side. Her hand sat lightly against the base of my spine, warm even through the layer of clothing. "We're out of here."

Jack grinned and winked at me.

"Where are we going?" I asked Lisa.

"Does it matter? Let's just drive."