Rebuilding Forever

Cassie Bryant's assistant, Beth, entered her office without knocking and flicked on the TV in the corner.

"Beth, I'm in the middle of a budget review!"

"You have to see this."

Cassie shook her head and bent back over the spreadsheets on her desk. "We need to increase the transportation budget," she told her boss's face on her computer screen. She was video-conferencing with the head of the Aquila Foundation between her office in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and his winter condo in Boca Raton. "Fuel costs have gone up again."

"We'll need to reduce something else," he countered, his head bent over his own set of papers. He stopped writing and looked up with a frown. "Is that the television?"

"Beth, please," Cassie hissed, then went still. "What is that?"

"That," Beth said in a voice of doom, pointing the remote at the television, "is the rest of your life."

"Sir, may we please resume this later?"

Her boss must have seen something in her face because he didn't argue. "We can trim from the advertising and media relations budgets and find additional no-cost avenues for those. Then I think that will do it. I'll contact you on Friday."

"Thank you, sir."

Cassie clicked the button to close the video screen and stood, her eyes still on the scene on TV. "Tell me that's Justin Timberlake."

"That's not Justin Timberlake."

"Maybe it's Fitty Cent."

Beth snorted. "Not unless Fitty Cent has grown green bangs."

Cassie stepped closer to the TV, still attempting denial. "They could be imposters."

"You mean impersonators?"

"Yeah, that." But she didn't bother waiting for Beth's answer. She knew damned well who that was on the screen, holding a woman in each arm and kissing one on the cheek while the other stroked her hand across his shiny, electric-blue shirt.

But Julian Manchester, keyboardist and notorious ladies' man for the re-formed 80s band Blue Silver, wasn't the problem. His best mate, Blue Silver's lead singer, Seth Graham, was.

Cassie wasn't ready to address her fiancé's similar arm-drapery, or the tongue that was in his ear. "Does Georgie know about this?"

Beth shrugged. "I don't work for Georgie." She turned up the volume. The entertainment network's reporter said, in voice-over, "Silverettes are back in style, as Blue Silver returns to the stage. After the success of their new album and last year's club tour, the neo-retro musicians have rediscovered their core audience."

Cassie grabbed the phone headset off her desk and sank onto the arm of the battered sofa in front of the television. "Georgie Davis," she said, and the phone automatically dialed.

"Led by Julian Manchester, the boys-
cum
-men have been out on the town in London this evening, and appear to have returned to their previous lifestyle."

Cassie realized now that the footage was in front of a nightclub. Julian lifted an arm to open the door of a long black limo, while Seth turned his head to talk to someone behind him--Brad, she saw, who at least had his girlfriend Marci wrapped around him.

"Hello?"

"Georgie, Cassie. Turn on that entertainment network we both hate."

"Uh, oh."

A second later she heard an echo of the show behind Georgie's voice. "What am I not going to--oh."

"Yeah."

They watched in silence as one of the blondies clinging to Seth bit his neck. Marci swatted at her and looked like she would rather have slugged her, but was conscious of the cameras on them.

"Aren't they in London?" Georgie asked. "It's midnight over there, right?"

"About that, yeah."

"When did Marci go over?"

"Last week. She can work from anywhere, you know. Brad called, she went." Marci had admitted to them last summer, when they'd reconnected in their attempt to see the band, that she ran a phone sex company. "She's going to tear that bitch apart."

"You sound so bloodthirsty," Georgie teased. "Don't you trust your rock star fiancé?"

Cassie ground her teeth. She did trust Seth. He'd been and done a lot of things in their first short, disastrous marriage. Adulterous hadn't been one of them. "Seth's not the problem."

"What is?"

The phone rang in the outer office. "That is."

"What?"

"Hang on."

Beth tapped her own headset to answer the call. "Cassie Bryant's office, Aquila Foundation." She listened for three seconds. "I'm sorry, Ms. Bryant has no comment, and she does not take personal calls at work." She clicked off, her expression unmarred by emotion. Her unshakeable calm was part of what Cassie had loved about her even before she reconciled with Seth.

"Reporters," she told Georgie. "Seth isn't going to do anything to harm our relationship, not after working so hard to get us back together."

"Julian says he's been completely clean, even with all the stress of the album sales and stuff."

Cassie wasn't worried about Seth's addictions, either, but--

"Julian Manchester is clearly up to his old habits. One can only wonder if Seth Graham is, as well, and if those will prove to be deadly to his tender new relationship with ex-wife Cassie Bryant."

The phone rang again.

"There. That's the problem," Cassie griped to her friend. "Seth's not using, he's not cheating, but every time he goes out of the house we have to contend with reporters making insinuations and other reporters calling me to get my reaction, like I'm going to pull a Sienna Miller or something."

Georgie snorted. "The nanny was the one who blabbed to all the--"

"It doesn't matter."

Cassie was actually more worried about her friend. No matter how many times Georgie told her the thing between her and Jules was casual, Cassie wasn't convinced. She saw the look in Julian's eyes any time Cassie mentioned Georgie, and she felt the sparks when they were in the same room. When a year passed and those sparks were still flying--and the parties involved still snuck off to have sex in the closet--the thing was more than casual.

"So what do you think?" Cassie asked.

"About what?"

Julian bent and planted one on the wide, ruby-red mouth of the woman he handed into the limo, patted the bare knee that was about two feet below the hem of her "skirt," and straightened to mug for the cameras one more time before they cut to commercial.

"I told you, she's not available..." Beth's cold, clipped voice faded as she exited the office and closed the door. Georgie still didn't speak.

"Honey? You okay?"

When she answered, her voice was tight. "We don't have an exclusive arrangement," she said.

"I know, but..." But sleeping with women like that--not that Cassie could judge her by thirty seconds on TV--and then sleeping with Georgie, well, that was playing a dangerous game, whether emotions were involved or not.

"You protect yourself," Cassie wasn't sure what else she could say. Georgie knew what she was doing. She always knew what she was doing, starting with the moment she decided they needed another chance at that lost night twenty years ago. They'd all gotten more than they bargained for, but Georgie had never wavered.

"You know what pisses me off most." Georgie sounded normal again.

"That they called them Silverettes?"

"Fuck, yes."

Cassie grinned. "Me, too."

The lights were dim backstage, save for a couple of security lamps high on the hallway wall. Everyone had gone home--the crew and the suits and the hangers-on, and most of the band. Seth stumbled into the cavernous central dressing room and fell, missing the couch by a few inches.

"Bugger," he grumbled, slapping an arm on the couch and trying to pull himself upright. The vague shapes swam and stretched, making him dizzy.

"Watch it, mate." A warm, long-fingered hand shoved his away and a body rolled onto its side. "Unless you want to get serious about what you're toying with."

"Juli." The name came out a sob. Seth tried to pull himself together. "She's gone, Juli. What will I do without her?"

"Who?"

"God, you know who." Seth managed to crawl onto the couch. Julian shifted his legs to make room. Seth dropped his face onto his hands and leaned sideways until he rested on his best friend's shoulder. "Cassie. My wife. I can't--" He drew a deep, shuddering breath and licked the tickle in the corner of his mouth. It tasted salty. Was he crying? Of course he was. His wife had left him, the band was falling apart, their last CD was officially crap--his life was over.

Julian slowly rubbed his back and sounded more awake when he spoke this time. "I know, mate. I'm sorry." His hand came up to grip the back of Seth's neck. Seth turned into Julian's chest, craving the heat he gave off, needing something--something he didn't want to think about, just wanted to take. Or receive.

"I'm alone," he moaned. "Fucking alone. And Pete's blathering on about rehab again."

"You should go," Julian said, his hand tightening on Seth's neck. Anger surged through Seth, but instead of lashing out, he crowded closer.

"I don't need rehab, Juli." The words glided through his brain before they came out of his mouth, and his prick stiffened. "I need a fuck."

"You sure?" His friend's voice was more serious than Seth could remember hearing it, and the low rumble vibrated in his chest and made him even harder. The tight leather he still wore, his stage costume, put pressure on his dick. He started panting.

"I'm sure. Do it. I need it."

Julian's free hand landed on Seth's dick--

Seth jerked awake, his breathing harsh and loud in the quiet room. He knew instantly where he was--not in that long-ago backstage room, but in the comfortable, normal bedroom in his flat in London.

"Jesus Christ."

He rolled to his side, then rocked up to sit on the side of the bed. He half expected to smell vomit and stale smoke, taste the aftertaste in the back of his throat from snorting. But that had been nearly fifteen years ago, and it hadn't gone down like that. He'd gone on a bender after Cassie walked out, had sought solace after their last concert with the guy who'd been his friend since school days. But he'd never...never...

"Fuck me," he murmured, then cringed. He reached and flicked on the lamp next to the bed. The light was dim, but helped bring him back from that room to the present.

His cell phone vibrated on the table next to him. It flashed "Cassie" on the display, and he cursed again. She knew what time it was here. Whatever made her call, it couldn't be good.

He could let it go. Bad news in the middle of the night had been too frequent a thing for him. But Cassie might help drag him out of the clinging haze.

He flipped open the phone. "Cass." His voice was raspy.

"Hey, love. Were you sleeping?"

"What else would I be doing at--" He squinted at the clock. "Two in the morning?"

"I think the appropriate question is 'who else' would you be doing."

How the fuck did she know? "You invading my dreams now?" he asked without thinking. Then his brain caught up to his mouth. Of course she didn't know. Bugger it, he'd just made whatever her problem was a million times worse.

"I think you need to explain that." Her tone froze him.

Seth rubbed his hand over his face. "Nothing. It wasn't--I'm not dreaming about anyone." He knew he wasn't going to get off that easy. "What are you calling about?"

"You were on Nightlife of the Stars this evening."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

He fell back onto the pillow and heaved a huge sigh. "Cass, come on, you know I have no interest in those tarts."

"I do know that."

And he didn't think she suspected him of cheating. "Then what's the problem?"

"I just want to hear what was going on. Things looked pretty wild."

"We'd done a round of media crap, you know. Interviews and photo shoots. The whole day. Brad had Marci here and they wanted to go out, and Jules is always up for that. They talked me into it, that's all."

"Not to be a nag, but--"

"I know. I didn't drink anything. Didn't even have a fag. Coca-Cola and secondhand smoke all the way."

"So who was that woman with her tongue in your ear?"

Seth flinched. That hadn't been the most pleasant experience. "I don't know. She latched on to me as we were walking out the door. You know how the guys are, they bought a round for everyone in the place, so we were mobbed." He adjusted the pillow under his head. "Look, Cass, it was nothing. You know damned well how these tours go."

"You're not on tour," she snapped. "You're at home working on a new album, and
planning
a tour. I don't care how many women come on to you in a bar, Seth. You sleeping around is not the problem."

"So what the hell is?" This was not what he expected to happen when he asked her to marry him again. She knew what the life of a pop star was like. She'd lived it, for Christ's sake.

"Do you know how many reporters have called me,
at work
, asking for my reaction to your alleged philandering?"

"Oh," he said again. He hadn't thought about that.

"Yeah, oh." She growled at him. "We're repeating ourselves, Graham. Like I said. I trust you. But that doesn't mean what you do doesn't have an impact on me. And I don't have to stand for every bit of crap that gets heaped on me for the lifestyle you're leading again."

"I'm sorry, Cassie. I didn't realize that would happen. I mean, you're a world away, and I'm not used to being in the limelight in the Internet age."

She finally softened. "I know. We're both going to have a lot of adjustments. I shouldn't have woken you up. I should have waited until morning to talk to you about this."

Yeah, but then she wouldn't have been able to check to see if he had that tart in his bed. "It's okay. I'm glad you called." He was thinking about the dream and it must have shown in his voice, because Cassie picked up on it.

"So what made you so defensive about your dreams? Who was in them?"

He didn't want to say. But he didn't have secrets from Cassie. That wasn't how they were going to live their new life together.