The sight of Mike was jarring, and her limbs were heavy with grief. Then, as she listened to Mr. LaFontaine inform the world that this was a pay-per-view event, only on HBO, her nerves took over. “Oh shit, I don’t think I can do this, Elliott,” she said, making a ninety-degree turn to let the baby see the screen. (She would have to stop cursing, but probably not for another few months.)
He wobbled his head in response.
“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Your mom is going to be up on that stage and on TV in front of millions of people around the globe.” Pat. Pat. Pat. “She wrote a brand new, terribly sad song that she’ll perform.”
Elliott let out the belch of a much larger child, accompaniedby an enormous rush of spit-up. Claudia sighed as it warmed her shoulder. Why hadn’t she put on a burp cloth? There were literally six of them within reach.
Turning off the television, she lifted her son into the air so she could look at his content little face. “But forget about the concert because today is a very big day. We’re going to your first photo shoot.” She listened to make sure the shower was still on. “You’re going to meet your dad today. Your real dad, not the one I’ll tell you is your father.”
He reached out and put his little hands on her cheeks, his blue eyes staring at her intently, as if he understood the gravity of the situation.
“I promise you I won’t cry. Well, I’ll try not to. It’s going to be emotional for everyone, though. Except you. You’ll be fine. You’re a very sensible young man.”
An hour later, everyone was dressed and ready to go to the recording studio for the photos. Claudia was in tall brown leather boots and a wrap-around dress but had been told to leave her face bare and her hair down for the professionals. Amélie had dressed the baby in a pair of Osh Kosh overalls and a blue and yellow striped long-sleeved onesie. Amélie herself was in a tight black and white off-the-shoulder striped dress that showed off her thin body, and Claudia could clearly see the threat she must have posed at her first job.
“You look lovely, Amélie,” she said.
“Merci,” she said. “I am dressed for finding a rich husband. There will be several rich men there,non?”
Claudia blinked quickly, feeling immediately threatened at the thought of this young goddess setting her eye on Zane. “No. I mean, yes, there will be, but the men in the band are … no.”
Amélie grinned at her. “Don’t worry. I know the band isall yours. I’m not after a rock star, anyway. Too unpredictable. A music executive though…”
Swallowing hard, Claudia, said, “I didn’t realize this.”
“Oui.It is why I came to America, but don’t worry. I won’t leave you before finding someone else to care for baby Elliott.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean, unless the right man comes along. Then, all bets are off. But he would have to be perfect.”
The doorbell rang, putting an end to the conversation. It was the driver the studio had sent over to collect them. It took him twenty minutes to figure out how to install the car seat properly, which put them behind schedule. Claudia’s worst nightmare was that Zane would see her before the makeup artist and hair stylist had finished with her, but she got lucky. He didn’t show up until she was camera ready. She heard his voice before she saw him, and her heart stilled as if it was winding up to beat as hard as it ever had.
The makeup artist took off her cape and gave her the nod. “You’re gorgeous. Off you go!”
Claudia’s legs felt wobbly in the tall suede stiletto boots. A rush of cool air made its way up her skirt, causing goosebumps across her skin. Elliott was asleep in his car seat, with Amélie next to him, perched on the corner of the coffee table in the dressing room.
Claudia looked down at her. “Well, let’s get this over with.”
Amélie stood up, then took hold of Claudia’s shoulders. “Press them back. Be strong. You’re not here to hide yourself. You’re here to be seen.”
A lump formed in her throat, and Claudia fought the urge to hug the nanny. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
“Yes, I know.”
She carefully lifted Elliott out of his car seat and handed him to Claudia. “Here. Go show off your son to the world.”
When they entered the studio, the men were waiting.
All but one.
Seeing the remaining members together made the reality of their lives hit hard. Mike was never going to join them again. He’d never pick up a guitar and tune it, then play a few riffs to warm up. He’d never smile at her or laugh at her jokes or nuzzle her neck or tell her she was beautiful. But this wasn’t a moment to grieve. It was a moment to perform.
Rusty and Steven hurried over to greet her, their voices quiet and their eyes shining with emotion. “How are you, mama?” Rusty asked.
“I’m good. Well, you know.”
He rubbed her arm. “It’s hard.”
