by Jenna Jacob
Shoving my insecurities down deep, I started brewing a pot of coffee and grabbed a box of oatmeal from the pantry. Dragging down a bowl, I heard a loud knock at my front door. I tugged the cuffs of my robe over my wrists, crossed the room, and flipped back the lock. I turned the knob and partially opened the door, making sure to keep the bruises on the right side of my face hidden.
Trudy stood on the stoop, hands on her hips, brows arched high, and lips pressed in a tight, thin line. “So, the rumors are true. You really did decide to come home. Tell me, were you planning on coming back to work? Planning to tell me what the hell happened to you out in LA? Or were you just going to sit around in your robe all day watching soap operas, eating bonbons?”
Trudy never held back. She said what was on her mind without filtering a thing. It was one of the many reasons I admired her.
“I just made a pot of coffee. If you’d like to come in and join me for a cup, I’ll be happy to answer your questions.”
“I would. It’s a lot better than standing out here freezing my nipples off.”
I smiled and pulled the door open wider.
As she stepped inside, she saw my bruises and did a double take. “Holy chocolate fuck-nuggets, what the hell happened to your face?”
“It’s been a rough few days. Let’s go sit in the kitchen. I need coffee.”
“You look like you need to see Doc Everly. Who the hell beat the shit out of you, Caris?” Trudy asked as I poured us each a steaming mug and joined her at the table.
The sudden concern in her voice eased my angst, but the fact that Trudy knew I’d been beaten ignited a million questions.
“Not many people know that Darrell ain’t my first husband,” Trudy announced as if reading my thoughts. “I quit high school when I was seventeen. I was young, stupid, and thought I was in love, so I ran off with this badass biker named Hoss. He was a badass, all right, but I didn’t know just how bad till after we’d been married by a justice of the peace in Salina, Kansas.”
I quietly sipped my coffee and listened as she spilled her secrets.
“The first time he hit me, Hoss told me he hated to hurt me, but I’d stepped out of line. Then he promised he’d never slap me again.” A sardonic scoff rolled off her lips. “He kept that promise. He started using his fists and beating me instead. Six months later, I ended up in the ER and nearly died. I finally told the doctor what Hoss was doing.”
“Jesus, Trudy. I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“I’m not. That doctor helped me move into a safe house. All the women there were like me, with one exception. They were the strongest, most determined, and most remarkable women I’d ever met. Most had endured years more abuse than me, but they didn’t let the past define the future. They worked their asses off and rebuilt their lives, found happiness within themselves instead of from some damn man.”
“And you did the very same.”
“I did. Now tell me, what’s the name of the sack of monkey spunk who used you for a punching bag?”
I opened my mouth to repeat the story I’d told Betty and Herb but snapped it shut when Trudy held up her hand.
“The real story, not the bullshit one Betty Warner is telling every living soul in Diamond City,” Trudy stated, before nodding toward my coffee cup.
Glancing down, I bit back a curse when I saw the sleeve of my robe had slid back, exposing the ugly scab on my wrist.
I sucked in a deep breath and spilled the truth…as much of it as I could.
Chapter 7
Syd
Smile pasted in place, I stood beneath the blistering spotlights, playing the notes and singing the lyrics—by rote—while the fans inside the arena screamed their lungs out.
Funny, I couldn’t remember if we were performing in Philly or Toledo. The past six days since we’d left LA—since Caris left me—had been nothing but a blur. In the end, it really didn’t matter what city we were in. As long as I did my part to feed and water the fans, nothing else mattered.
At least on the outside.
Inside, I was till beating myself black and blue for letting Ozzy talk me out of looking for Caris. Not knowing if she’d made it back to Diamond City was eating me alive.
When Ross started pounding out his drum solo, I automatically laid down the accompanying beat with my bass.
“Our badass beast on drums…Ross Walker,” Burk introduced, waving his hand toward the big man.
Like they had for Ozzy and Darren, the fans went wild. Their cacophony of screams and cheers swelled to a deafening level.
Seconds later, the spotlight landed on me.
Shoving all thoughts of Caris—the sweet taste of her sinful mouth, her ripe, lush naked body, and the two years she’d sat in that fucking jail cell paying for my sins—I screamed, “Fuck yeah, baby” into my mic, and plucked the strings, nailing my solo like a boss.
“Give it up for our resident ladies’ man, Syd Wilson,” Burk yelled into his mic. “He lays down all the beats right—”
“And fucks sweet pussy all night,” I barked into my mic.
Drawing out the last note of my solo, I tossed a fist in the air. The women screamed as if they’d lost their ever-loving minds. When they started tossing panties on stage, I flashed a crooked grin, waggled my brows, and licked my lips.
The fans didn’t give a steaming, hot elephant shit if I was a pussy-whipped mess inside. They’d shelled out plenty of hard-earned money to see Syd Wilson, the wise-ass, fun-loving class-clown—they knew and loved. I’d be damned if I was going to disappoint them. I waited for the screams to ebb, then waved my arm toward Burk.
“And last but definitely not least, the main man with pipes of steel and a steel pipe his woman won’t let him share with you wet and wild ladies anymore…” I glanced at Sofia waiting in the wings and laughed when she shot me a scowl and flipped me off. “The one and only rock and roll super-stud…Burk Jennings.”
A louder, raucous roar that shook the stage and my bones, erupted from the fans.
“One, two, three,” Ross counted out from behind me.
I turned and grinned as he tossed his drumsticks in the air, caught them, and banged his snare. In perfect unison, Ozzy played the intro chords to our platinum-winning single “Nasty Nymph.” The fans—who’d been on their feet since Mia, a.k.a. Phoenix took the stage before us—dragged out their cell phones, illuminated their flashlight apps, and began waving them in the air.
I couldn’t lie, hearing their screams and seeing the joy on their faces was thrilling, humbling, and totally mind-blowing. But standing on stage, watching a sea of lightning bugs swaying in time to the music was downright awe inspiring.
With thoughts of Caris now locked deep in my brain, I got lost in the music, the roar of the fans, and actually found a sliver of comfort in the normality of performing. Before I realized it, my fingers were sliding along the frets and I was plucking the notes to the last song of our set, “Dirty Road.”
Three and a half minutes later, the spotlights blinked out, the fans screamed for more, as the five of us jogged off stage. Mia, still sporting her rocker gear from her opening performance, Sofia, Harmony, and Tori, who’d flown in from Oklahoma to surprise her man, Darren, were waiting in the wings. As us sweat-soaked musicians made it backstage, the women mauled their significant others with hugs and kisses.
For a split second, I imagined the thrill of locking eyes with Caris and pressing my wet body to hers before devouring her lips. But I shook the fantasy away and let reality come crashing in. I was the only one without a woman. I didn’t like the fact that I was the odd man out now, but I hadn’t done a fucking thing to deserve a happy ending like my bandmates.
I clapped Burk—who was attempting to remove Sofia’s tonsils with his tongue—on the back. “I’ll meet you pricks back on stage for our encores,” I yelled over the fervent screams and thunderous pounding of seats and feet reverberating through the arena.
Peeling his mouth off Sofia’s, Burk sent me a puzzled
look. “Keep your pantyhose on. We’ll go out together, like always.”
Dammit. My mask was slipping. Mentally supergluing the bitch back in place to keep my bitter jealousy from leaking out, I flashed him a crooked grin and a two-fingered salute.
“You got it.”
A few seconds later, we charged back on stage to the euphoric delight of the zealous crowd and rocked out our mega-million hit, “Make Your Fortune.” Then finally ended the concert with our triple-platinum fan favorite, “Empty Nights.”
The lights went out again as we jogged off stage, wiped the sweat dripping off our faces, and grabbed a bottle of cold water. Thankfully, the women were no longer waiting to suck face with the men. Security had already escorted them to the bus. It was easier on everyone to get them past the jealous, insult-spewing band bunnies before we headed to our dressing rooms.
I wished security would escort me past the hungry horde. I had no interest in touching, let alone fucking any of the desperate women since seeing Caris again. So far, I’d feigned a headache, upset stomach, and exhaustion after our concerts in New York and Philly. Guess that means we’re in Toledo. I was running out of excuses to keep from taking the horny women up on their offers. It wouldn’t be long before the guys started asking questions and busting my balls about my lack of sexual activity.
Wiping the sweat from his bald head, Ross quirked a brow. “How you feeling tonight, man?”
“Great,” I replied automatically, then inwardly cursed.
“Good to hear. I was starting to wonder if you needed Viagra or something.” A taunting grin tugged the big drummer’s lips.
“Bite me.”
“No, seriously. You haven’t let Daddy out to play with the kitties since the tour started again.” The prick was far too observant. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that little mouse you lost back in LA, would it?”
“Mind your own fucking business,” I growled as we started down the hall.
Ross tossed his head back and laughed. “That’s what I thought.”
“You don’t know shit, fucker.”
“I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do.”
I wanted to punch the self-righteous smirk off his face. Instead, I rolled my eyes and veered toward my dressing room. I’d only managed two steps before several women pushed off the wall and surrounded me, boldly offering everything from blow jobs and threesomes to anal sex.
I suddenly knew how the cow in Jurassic Park felt when they lowered him into the velociraptor cage. It was definitely feeding time, and I was the only piece of meat left on the menu.
“Sorry, ladies,” I said with a fake-as-fuck chuckle. “I got a bus to catch. We’re heading to Nashville tonight. I can’t miss my ride.”
“I’ll give you a ride, Syd. A hot, wet ride,” a buxom blonde, with heavy dark lines surrounding her hungry eyes and red, glossy lips purred. “I’ll ride so long and hard you won’t be able to roll out of bed for a week.”
I opened my mouth to tell the bold girl that I wasn’t into strap-ons when a familiar voice called my name. Craning my neck, I quickly scanned the faces of the women rubbing their tits on my chest and their pussies on my legs.
“Syd. Over here.”
Tracking the sound of her voice, I turned my head to the left and saw a petite redhead wearing a halter top, blue jeans, waving at me. She looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t until she flashed me a wide smile that I realized it was…
“Tina,” I cried, brushing the writhing women off me. “Come here, baby girl. Lemme get a look at you.”
A pink blush stained her cheeks as Tina raced to my open arms.
“Get off him, bitch,” one of the women sneered. “He’s got a bus to catch.”
As I hugged Tina tightly, she lifted onto her toes and whispered in my ear, “I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”
Smoothing a hand down the crown of her hair, I cupped her neck and whispered back, “I remember you, but I almost didn’t recognize you. You look amazing. Amazingly healthy.”
I released her, then cupped her shoulders and took a step back, drinking in the sight of her filled-out body.
“I know you probably have to go, but…” She bit her bottom lip pensively. “Do you think we could spend a little time together like we did last time?”
As the question rolled off her lips, Ross strolled by and abruptly stopped.
He arched his brows and a shit-eating grin curled his lips. “Good to see Daddy’s finally back in action.”
Instead of correcting him, I sneered. Ignoring the whines and cutting remarks the other women were flinging at Tina, I wrapped my arm around her lush waist and led her inside my dressing room.
Without hesitation she sat down on the fluffy, padded futon, smiling proudly.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, opening the mini fridge in the corner of the room.
“A soda would be great if you’ve got one.”
Inwardly cheering because she didn’t ask for a diet soda, I grabbed a couple of sugar-laced colas and joined her on the futon.
“Am I right to assume you’re now seeing someone?”
“I am. Her name is Dr. Shroyer. She’s phenomenal. I had no idea that my eating disorder was an attempt to get control of my out-of-control life.”
A wide smile speared my lips as I listened to Tina talk about her recovery from bulimia. I’d met her last year, when we’d played this same venue. She’d been standing in the hallway, thin as a rail and pale. I’d pegged her for a meth-head, but after I’d invited her into my dressing room to try and talk her into getting clean, she confessed her struggle with bulimia.
I didn’t know shit about eating disorders, but I knew purging and binging was as addicting as drugs. I didn’t touch her, kiss her, or attempt to drag her beneath me that night. She had enough issues to deal with. Tina didn’t need me using her as a come receptacle. Instead, we sat, like we were doing now, and talked.
“I’ve gained twenty wonderful, fluffy, fat pounds, found a full-time job, and three months ago I moved into my own apartment. I’m no longer living under my mother’s controlling thumb.”
“You did it!” I cheered. “You took control of your destiny.”
A soft giggle slid off her lips. “I did, but I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you, Syd. You save my life.”
“I didn’t do anything but talk you into getting some help. You’re the one who’s done the hard work. I’m so fucking proud of you, baby girl. I’m fucking bursting at the seams with pride for how you’ve turned your life around.” I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
“There’s something else,” she whispered shyly.
“What?”
“I-I’m…I’ve been dating a guy for four months. His name is Brian. He’s a mechanical engineer, handsome, supportive, and he loves shar-pei puppies as much as me.”
My smile grew impossibly wider as I listened to Tina tell me about the new man in her life and the happiness she was discovering with each day. Her contentment was contagious and started smoothing the jagged edges of my raw, rejected heart.
Forty-five minutes later, my soul actually felt lighter as I ushered Tina to the door. She’d inadvertently lessened my anger and pain…inadvertently reminded me that I had to champion my own destiny, too. I’d lost sight of that over the past six days. I’d given Caris the power to steer my ship straight down the River Styx.
No more.
I’d tried to apologize to Caris. Tried to ask her for a second chance. Tried to show her I was no longer a scared teen but a capable man willing to do whatever it took to protect and care for her. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. Maybe we’d both changed so much we couldn’t exhume the past and grow forward. The reasons didn’t really matter. Clearly, I wasn’t the kind of man she wanted in her life now. I had to find a way to accept and honor her decision and take back my life, start living for myself again, like Tina had done.
“I expect an invitation
to the wedding when you and Brian set a date.”
“Oh, my god. You’d really come to our wedding?”
“If you give me some advanced notice, the guys and I will even sing at it, too.”
Excitement and shock crawled across her smiling face. “You’re on.”
I pulled out my wallet and pressed Quinn’s business card in her hand. “This is my agent. Send the invitation to the address on the card. I’ll tell him to call me when it arrives.”
“Oh, Syd. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Tina threw her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.
“You keep working on you. If I don’t see you before, I’ll look for you next time we come through Toledo.”
“I’ll be here, and hopefully Brian will be with me.”
“Good. I want to meet this man. I gotta make sure he’s good enough for you.” I winked and opened the door. “Keep kicking ass.”
“I will. Promise.”
She blew me a kiss, then turned and strolled down the now deserted hall.
I closed the door and gathered my things, and as I strode from the arena toward our shiny new tour bus, resignation settled deep. Despite the blistering kisses we’d shared, Caris wasn’t my soul mate. If she was, she would have stayed. The realization burned like acid, but I knew it was time for me to exorcise her from my heart and soul. I just didn’t know how. They say time heals all wounds, but the past fifteen years, it hadn’t done shit. A part of me feared I’d still ache for the sassy little spitfire when I was old and gray.
Chapter 8
Caris
“Order up, Chris,” the new fry-cook Shane Sims called from the window of the kitchen. With a cocky grin, the annoying prick tapped the loud bell on the laminated ledge five fucking times.
