Strike a Chord

by Salsbury, JB

  His blue eyes light with an unholy fire and he frantically pulls at my skirt. “Yeah, you want to get fucked. I knew it.” His gluttonous hands pull the fabric up past my knees. “Open.”

  When I don’t respond, he kicks my ankle. I groan as pain slices through my foot. He kicks again, harder, and white-hot pain shoots up my leg. I list to the side only to have him hold me upright.

  He shoves his knee between my thighs. “Open the fuck up.”

  “Don’t do this—” My words are cut off with a slam of his hand on my neck.

  “You want it. Don’t be a dick tease.” He shoves his hand between my legs, his fingers ripping the delicate lace.

  I wince, and the sound that comes from my lips is that of an injured animal. How can fingers make such beauty with a guitar and yet cause so much pain? With my legs free, I try to kick at him again, but my ankle must be broken. It can't bear my weight.

  I realize with glaring clarity that if I don’t do something, he’s going to rape me. The more I fight, the tighter his hand grows on my neck. I’m close to passing out, but at least if I pass out, I won’t be awake for whatever he plans to put me through next. With nothing to lose, I scream and thrash like a trapped animal.

  He throws his body weight into my neck. My head snaps against the wall. I gasp for air as my vision goes dark and my legs give out from under me. I welcome the numbness that overcomes me, beg for the darkness to swallow me.

  The door bursts open and chaos explodes.

  His hold on me disappears, and I fall to the floor in a heap of brokenness.

  Ethan

  Where the fuck is she?

  I double- and triple-check that she’s not at the bar before I call her phone. My eyes scan the surrounding area as her voicemail kicks on. Figuring she must still have her phone on silent, I try again, and one more time.

  I call over the bartender. “Excuse me, is there another bar nearby?”

  He points me in the direction of another bar and I stare over a sea of people, wondering if Taylor could’ve misunderstood which bar I meant for her to go to. I try her phone again. Nothing.

  I wave the bartender over one more time, pull up a photo I took of Taylor earlier in the night, and show him. “Have you seen her?”

  He looks at the photo and shakes his head. “Sorry, no.”

  I shove my phone back in my pocket and figure I’ll walk around the area. Maybe she ran into one of the guys and is hanging out with them. I should call—

  “Ethan!” A frantic female voice is accompanied by a firm grasp on my forearm.

  “Hailey?”

  Fucking Hailey Arenfield, the daughter of Mark Arenfield. She single-handedly blew up our old guitar player Chris’s marriage—and almost our band. To be fair, she had no clue Chris was a married man, so it’s not really her fault.

  “How have you been—”

  “You’re here with Taylor, right?”

  The panic in her eyes has my heart racing, and a wave of fear washes over me. “Yeah, where is she?”

  She drags me away by the hand. “I met her in the bathroom. I left, and when I walked out, Taylor Oakley was standing there with his security.” She’s talking so fast, her words all string together. “You know that guy is a scumbag, right? My dad’s spent a fortune keeping his ass out of prison. I had a bad feeling and tried to go back to check on Taylor, but his security told me the bathroom was being serviced.”

  We’re practically running now, shoving people out of the way. My stomach churns with fear, and I hope to God Hailey’s instincts are wrong and my Taylor is caught up in conversation rather than—I can’t even bring myself to think it.

  “I went to go get some help, but thank God I ran into you first.” We’re side by side in a dark hallway that leads to the restroom. “I have a really bad feeling.”

  Sure enough, two guys in black suits, shoulders the size of boulders, are standing with their backs to the door of the women’s restroom.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I bark.

  “The bathroom is being serviced—”

  “The fuck it is.” I shove between the men only to have them grab my biceps. I stare at one meaty hand. “Get your hand off me. Now.”

  “I’m calling my dad!” Hailey says with her phone pressed to her ear. “Let him go or you’ll both be removed from the property immediately.”

  One of them mumbles, “Fuck.”

  They share a moment of eye contact and I jerk out of their hold and kick the door open, surprised and grateful as hell it isn’t locked.

  All the air leaves my lungs when I see my Taylor fall to the floor. Taylor Oakley whirls around with lust-reddened cheeks and an erection tenting his slacks.

  I lunge. His aged body gives no resistance to my rage-filled muscles as I grab his lapels and slam him to the floor. The satisfying crack of his head against the tile fuels me as I deliver blow after punishing blow to his jaw. He doesn’t fight back, his head flopping to the side with every hit, but that doesn’t stop my barrage of punches. Warm blood hits my face. I continue until a vise grip wraps me up from behind and I’m thrown back even while my arms keep swinging.

  “We got ‘em. You can stop!” I register Jonny, my security guard’s voice. “Ethan, stop!”

  My Taylor is curled up in Hailey’s arms, her skin ghostly white and her panic-stricken eyes on her bloody attacker. I scurry toward her and drop to my knees. I reach to pull her into my chest, but she flinches with a cry of pure terror.

  “Taylor, baby.” My voice cracks and my eyes heat. “It’s me. Ethan.” I reach for her again only to have her curl deeper into Hailey, who shakes her head at me.

  Taylor’s neck is red and quickly turning purple in places. Her skirt is torn up to her hip, where the ripped lace of her panties hangs off one hip. I take off my jacket and cover her bare legs when my eyes catch on her ankle that is an angry red and swollen.

  “What did he do to you?” I whisper and swipe at an annoying tickle on my face. I look at my finger to see my tears mixed with Oakley’s blood.

  The bathroom is filled with security, and Mark Arenfield looks at Taylor Oakley in disgust with his phone pressed to his ear.

  Numbly, I stand, walk to the still unconscious body of Oakley, and slam my foot into his ribs. Jonny pulls me away but not before I spit on the rock legend. “You’re dead, old man. Fucking dead! I’ll kill you, you hear me! I’ll fucking kill you for this!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ethan

  “I already told you what I saw.” With my head in my hands, I repeat what I’ve already said a million times to the LAPD.

  “I’m sorry, I understand this is painful to relive.” The woman has compassion in her voice, but I don’t give a fuck about any of that right now.

  My Taylor was taken out the back door to an ambulance while the after-party still rages inside. Less than a dozen people know the horrors that took place in that bathroom, and only two know every detail—Taylor and the fucking monster who attacked her. He’s not talking because he’s still unconscious.

  “You said you don’t think there was penetration.” She clears her throat. “Because his erection was in his pants. Are you sure—”

  “I’m done.” I stand and make my way to the door. “I’m not doing this.”

  “Ethan,” Jesse says but doesn’t touch me. He knows better. His eyes are red and his expression matches the simmering fury I feel, his arms around his still-sobbing wife. “There’s a car out back, waiting to take you to the hospital. We’ll tie up loose ends here and meet you there.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief that he didn’t ask me to stay, not that I would’ve listened.

  Ryder, who sent Jade home to be with Katie, comes alongside me. “Let’s go.” He lifts his chin to Jonny, who jumps into step with us.

  Ben and Ashleigh left right away to be with Taylor at the hospital. Ben with his prayers, and Ash with her take-no-shit-from-nobody attitude as my Taylor’s advocate. And of course Hailey, who
saved my woman’s life, hasn’t left her side.

  We climb into the SUV without a word. Thanks to Arenfield pulling strings, we’re met by a hospital employee outside the doors of the emergency entrance and taken to a room in a private wing, where Ben and Ashleigh are waiting.

  I look between Ben and Ash, eager for an update. “How is she?”

  Ben jerks his head, silently asking me to join him away from listening ears.

  “I’m gonna lose my shit if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on,” I say as tears fall helplessly. I’ve stopped fighting them. It’s pointless.

  “She’s good,” Ben says quietly, calmly. “She told Ashleigh that she wasn’t raped, so that’s…” He blows out a shaky breath, his eyes glossing over as he fights tears himself. “Something.”

  “But I saw her…” My lips quake with a wave of sadness. “Her skirt… and…” I prop my hands on my hips and stare at the floor, shaking my head because I can’t bring my lips to say what I saw.

  “He touched her, Ethan.”

  “Fuck!” I pace two steps in both directions, a deranged energy whirling inside me without escape. “I’m gonna kill him.”

  “Don’t say that in front of the cops.”

  My feet freeze and I glare at my friend. “I am though. I’m going to slit his throat and laugh while he bleeds out at my feet. You think I won’t? I’ll gladly do life in prison if it means getting to look in his eyes while I drain the life from his body.”

  “No need to go to prison.” Ryder raises a hand. “I’ll bring the shovel.”

  Ashleigh raises her hand next. “I’ll bring the knife.”

  Ben looks between the three of us and sighs. “All right, but we should do it in the woods somewhere. And a second shovel wouldn’t hurt.”

  The man of God talking seriously about burying a body in support of me and my girl knocks a little of the edge off my anger. I almost smile. Almost.

  Jesse and Bethany show up an hour later, and after three cups of shitty coffee and a lot of pacing, a doctor finally comes out to speak with us.

  I jump up and meet the doctor two steps out of the door. “How is she? Can I see her?”

  Dr. Tina Baxter is embroidered on her white coat. She smiles sadly. “I’m sorry, she’s requesting no visitors at this time.”

  “What? Can you tell her Ethan is here and that I really need to see her?” I need to touch her, kiss her, see with my own eyes that she’s okay.

  “I’m sorry. She’s had a long night and she needs her sleep. I’m sure she’ll contact you when she’s ready.” Dr. Baxter looks around. “You can all go home, get some sleep. We’re going to keep her overnight.”

  I want to ask why, demand answers, but I’m not family. I’m not—oh fuck. “We need to let her dad know.”

  “Ms. Marsten is fully capable of making her own contacts,” the doctor says. “The best thing you can do for her is give her the space she needs to heal.”

  Even though I know the doctor is right, every cell in me revolts against her words. I want to help her heal, I want to be there for her, let her lean on me, cry in my arms. I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life. “Can you tell her I’m here, if she needs me?”

  “Of course.”

  A firm hand lands on my shoulder, then another on my other shoulder. I look back to see Ben and Jesse flanking me.

  Jesse addresses the doctor. “Thanks, Doc.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Come on, dude. Take a shower, get some sleep. She’ll call you when she’s up to it.”

  “No, I’m not going home. I’m going to stay a little longer.”

  “You heard the doctor,” Ben says. “She’s not accepting visitors.”

  “I don’t care.” I shrug the guys off me and take a seat, resting my elbows on my thighs. “I’m not ready to leave.”

  They all agree to leave me with promises that I’ll at least try to get some sleep. Yeah, whatever. I tell them what they need to hear so they’ll go.

  And I settle in for as long as it takes.

  Taylor

  I watch the sunrise over the city from my hospital bed.

  After asking a million questions and doing a lot of poking and prodding, the doctor gave me meds for the pain. Thankfully, I fell into a dreamless sleep and woke just as the sun burst through the dark. There’s so much hope in a sunrise. A new day filled with possibilities. I’ve seen the sun rise over more cities than I can count, and each and every time, they’ve filled me with hope for what’s to come.

  But not today.

  As the sun illuminates the hospital room, I’m reminded of last night. Ghostly hands grip my throat and the ache in my ankle throbs with brutal clarity. My pulse spikes, my breath quickens, and a whimper bubbles up from my chest.

  “You’re awake.” A sleepy voice calls my eyes to the opposite side of the room, where Hailey stands from her chair and scurries to my bedside. “Are you in pain? Do you need me to get a doctor?”

  “You stayed?” I remember her being with me all night, but I assumed once I fell asleep, she’d go home. Her kindness melts away some of the fear.

  “Yes. I couldn’t bear the thought of you waking up alone.” She rubs her eyes and yawns, and I notice she’s no longer in her gown but in a pair of hospital scrubs. “How are you feeling?”

  I brush my fingertips along my neck and wince. “Sore.”

  She grabs my hand and sits at the edge of the bed. “I talked to my dad this morning. I told him if he allowed lawyers to bury this, I’d never speak to him again.” A frown tilts her lips. “Half the money my dad makes goes to keeping musicians out of jail or out of the headlines. They’re all pigs, every single one of them.”

  Judging by the shine in Hailey’s eyes and the passion in her voice, I get the sense she’s speaking from personal experience. I squeeze her hand.

  She swipes at a tear that escapes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  “Who hurt you?” My voice is scratchy and it hurts to talk.

  She groans and shakes her head. “I don’t want to make this about me, you’re hurt and—”

  “I’ve told my story more times in the last twelve hours than I’d ever want to in a lifetime.” I try to clear the ache from my bruised windpipe. “Tell me yours.”

  She releases my hand to stand and walks to the end of the bed. “I hung out with Jesse Lee and his band on their last tour.”

  My stomach churns at the haunting sound in her voice.

  “Chris used to play guitar for Jesse. He told me he was divorced.” She turns around and meets my eyes. “I’d been drinking. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Anyway, we had unprotected sex, multiple times. I found out in the morning he was still very much married and they had a baby.”

  “Oh my god…” I can’t imagine anyone being that cruel.

  “I found out I was pregnant two months later. My dad’s lawyers buried it.”

  I don’t ask what happened to the baby, sensing the question would be more traumatizing than the story itself.

  She steps close to the bed. “My dad’s lawyers have buried a lot for Arenfield musicians.” Her gaze moves around the room, everywhere but on me.

  “Including Ethan?” I swallow hard and wince at the pain that has traveled to my chest.

  “You should ask him.”

  Dread swallows my stomach. “I’m asking you.”

  Her apologetic eyes find mine. “Now’s not the time—”

  “Tell me what you know or get out.” My pulse screams between my ears.

  Her eyes widen. She seems to think something over and coming to a conclusion she reclaims her seat at the edge of my mattress. “Ethan got a girl pregnant, a groupie. I don’t know the details, but I know a wave of lawyers went after the girl and made it all disappear.”

  Unable to hold her gaze—I can’t handle the pity in her eyes—I turn to look out the window.

  “And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the first time,” she adds.

  “How do you know this?”
/>
  “Bits and pieces of conversations I’ve overheard.” She grabs my forearm. “Including one just a few days ago.”

  I whip my head around to face her, and my brain struggles to reconcile her words with what I know. That day at Ethan’s house, he got a call from a man named Neil. Neil, the asshole lawyer from the after party. Ethan was upset after that call.

  “I’m so sorry.” Hailey hands me a tissue.

  I realize I’m crying and blot at my cheeks. “I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell me this.”

  His history with groupies is no secret. He assured me he always used condoms. Condoms break.

  “Oh my God.” I grip my head as a pounding starts behind my temples.

  “Do you need me to grab a nurse?”

  “No, I’m okay. I just…” Can’t believe I was stupid enough to think Ethan was different.

  “The betrayal.”

  “Yeah.” I suck in a breath and blow it out, wondering why Ethan’s lies hurt worse than Taylor Oakley’s attack.

  “With every day, it’ll get a little easier.”

  We cry together, our painful experiences joining us in a way that I’ve never felt connected to another person. It makes no sense, but we start to laugh. The unfairness of life, the vulnerability that comes with being a woman, all of it manifests in maniacal laughter.

  There’s a knock at the door and we scramble to wipe our faces.

  “Come in!” I say and burst into tears again when I see Prophet’s gigantic body dwarfing the space. “Dad!”

  “I’ll leave you two alone.” Hailey scampers out of the room.

  His expression is stoic, but his face is blotchy and his eyes are red and bloodshot. “Tommy girl.” His frown quivers. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  “Daddy…” A sob rips from my throat, and in seconds he’s at my bed, his big arms pulling me to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

  “Got nothing to be sorry for. I’m a stubborn old man. I should’ve—” His voice crackles and breaks. “Shoulda been there for you.”