Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  She’s so soft against me. I tighten my hold on her. “You didn’t,” I assure her. “I was in the music room.”

  “I interrupted a session?”

  “No. I quit the band.” She gasps, but I ignore it. Considering everything, my resignation is the least of my worries. “I…my father used me to get Stefanie to the boat.”

  “Your father is a wicked fucker,” she fumes, once I finish the story. “Blaming you for his crap, knowing the guilt you suffer because you couldn’t save her. Fuck him, though. He would’ve found another way to kill her.”

  “I’d like to believe that, but I don’t think Steffie would’ve put herself in a situation to be around him, if not for me. I never knew about her sexual proclivities. That day? I’d been determined to find a man for her. I teased her for being a virgin. Dad killed her for being a lesbian. She died without ever knowing I wouldn’t have cared who she loved. She must’ve felt so alone. Everyone wanting to change her. No one loving her for her.”

  Georgie lifts herself up on her elbow and stares down at me with a grave look. “You loved her for her, and she knew it, Sloane. Do you think she wanted to burden you?”

  “We were family. We looked out for each other.”

  “And you thought your parents could do no wrong,” she counters. “Your sister loved you enough to not want to burst your bubble. She wouldn’t want you to fall for Rand’s tactics. I know it and so do you.”

  I’m used to my father’s fucked-up mind games. Usually the same bullshit with a new twist. This new information aims right at the burden I’ve carried around since my sister’s death.

  Georgie caresses my jaw and gives me a sweet smile, though her eyes are sad and teary.

  “How many stitches do you have?”

  “Why’d you quit your band?”

  “Does it matter to you if I’m a famous singer or just a regular guy?”

  She shakes her head. “No,” she answers, then settles her head back into the crook of my arm. “I’m still your number one fan.”

  “I’m no longer sure why I quit,” I admit.

  “When you figure it out, tell me.”

  I smile and ask again, “How many stitches?”

  “Six.”

  Keeping her head on my arm, I turn my body to hers. “What about the lochia?”

  She frowns. “What?”

  “A Greek word.”

  “Meaning painful and fucking disgusting?”

  Laughter rumbles from me, though she’s dropped several f-bombs in the past twenty minutes. Besides, she’s covering her embarrassment over this conversation with a smart-ass comment.

  I thumb her chin and brush my lips across hers. They’re warm and dry. “Thank you for her. The baby,” I whisper, caressing her hip. “You kept her safe inside of you. Are you having a lot of pain?”

  “Bad cramping.”

  I kiss her again. With her head still on my arm, I use my other hand to slide her nightgown up, baring her legs, thighs, and finally, her panties.

  Tearing her mouth from mine, she stiffens. “Don’t. Please.”

  Before I explore her body, I know what I’ll find, after reading about it online to arm myself with the knowledge to help her. The information also helps me to understand her reaction. I nip her lips and rub my nose against hers. “You’re beautiful, Georgie.”

  Nothing I say will ease her shame. Laying my hand against her thigh, I swirl a finger on her soft, sensitive skin.

  “Have you noticed an increase in anything?”

  Dancing around the direct question as much as possible, I lick the pulse point on her neck. Her heart pounds between us and I know my touch affects her. She’s a very sensual girl, another thing I love about her.

  “I don’t want you to start hemorrhaging,” I tell her when she doesn’t answer. “I never realized how hard a baby is on a woman’s body.”

  She blinks, her eyes filled with vulnerability. “I don’t know what to say. The changes in me are mortifying and—”

  “I know your body as well as I know mine, Georgie,” I remind her, biting her earlobe. “You gave birth because of me.” Possessiveness overwhelms me. I’ll never tire of repeating that to her. My words make her even shyer, so I go for an X-rated tactic. “I sucked your cunt.” She inhales and melts into me a little more. “I tongued your clit until you came all over my lips. You spread your legs for me and let me explore your pussy with my fingers and my mouth.” She mewls like a little kitten, but grabs my wrist when I begin to pull her panties down. “Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay. I promise. Let me look.”

  Her small, white fingers hesitate, but I’m giving her the choice, not ordering her and adding to her humiliation. She squeezes her eyes shut, a little sound of distress escaping her. Her belly’s still stretched and misshapen, expected since she just gave birth several days ago. I kiss around her navel, down to her bare pubic mound. Her body flushes. She knows where I’m looking and what I’m looking at.

  I don’t take long to reassure myself she isn’t bleeding too much. Finished, I take her into my arms again and caress her back, kissing her hairline.

  “I thought you didn’t know about—”

  “I don’t,” I concede, “but I think I’d know what too much looks like.”

  Grimacing, she stares at my chest. A moment passes before her hand dips into my pajama bottoms and wraps around my aching dick, stroking me. She fingers my cock head, spreading the pre-cum leaking from my slit, then caressing the thick vein on the underside.

  “Oh, fuck, baby.”

  Trembles race through me. She’s an expert at making dicks feel good with her hands and her mouth. I growl at the thought, glad she mistakes it for a sound of pleasure and not murderous jealousy.

  Threading my fingers through her hair, I slant my mouth over hers and plunder past her lips. My nuts throb and my nerve endings tingle, the fast movement of her hand drawing cum from me. It jets into the air, onto my stomach, and her hand.

  I use her top sheet to wipe her hand. “Fuck. I felt that to my ball root.”

  She giggles. “Do balls have roots?”

  “I don’t give a fuck.” One hand job by Georgie is worth twenty dick sucks by random women.

  A little sigh escapes her and she relaxes against me. “Only you can turn what’s happening to my body after Bryn’s birth into something sexual,” she murmurs with a grin, then drifts off to sleep.

  Shaking my head and smiling, I ease my arm from under her head and stand. Before I leave, I check on Bryn. Her pacifier has fallen to her side, but her mouth still moves, sucking on a phantom tit.

  I guide the pacifier back in place and repair the covers she’s kicked aside, falling a little more in love with my daughter and wondering if there’s any future for me with her mother.

  Returning to my room, I know sleep is impossible, so I change into a pair of shorts and running shoes and go for a run to clear my head. With the exception of getting Georgie back and my time with her, I’d love to rewrite most of yesterday.

  The early morning air invigorates me and helps to put my mother’s position into perspective. She didn’t know about Dad’s blackmail. Though her ignorance doesn’t completely excuse her, she never gave up the illusion of our flawless family. There’s no such thing as perfection. I learned it long ago. Mom never did.

  When I return to the house, the sun is just beginning to rise.

  Still in sweats, his sleep attire, Kiln meets me in the foyer and hands me an unopened bottle of water. “Rand wants to talk to you. Can’t keep dear old Dad waiting,” he mocks.

  Ignoring the bait and setting the water aside, I head to Dad’s office. He’s sitting behind the desk reading a report, while Jaeger is in one of the chairs in front of it. Dad and his Mini-me—not in looks but style—are already dressed in suits.

  “Ready to rejoin the band?” Dad asks without preamble. He pushes back and rests an ankle on his knee. “Ticket sales are in the gu
tter. Two merchandisers have already dropped us.”

  “Yeah, Sloane. We’re losing money left and right,” Jaeger adds with a worried frown. “And I haven’t even announced you’ve left the band. We’ve just sent out tweets about meet and greets in LA and posted information on the Facebook page. Speculation is rampant about you.”

  Whatever ideas forming in my head about the band after my conversations with Quint, Maitland, and Georgie disintegrate. I’m not in the fucking office good before they began their campaign to have me back in the group. For fuck’s sake, sweat’s still pouring from me after my run. At least allow me to cool down and wipe off before they began their useless talking. Desperation doesn’t become them, though I understand the basis. Their bank accounts are in danger, so they need to tap their fucking ATM again. Only, not to ask for money I’ve already earned.

  “Tough shit,” I say in bored tones, swiping a forearm across my brow. “This might happen anyway with the crimes I’m accused of.”

  “Not many people believed you were guilty before Rand’s interviews and press conference at the jail. Now everyone is solidly in your corner,” Jaeger tells me. “We were still selling seats around the world. One merchandiser wanted more items. Twenty-four hours later he’s pulled out.”

  “Again, not my fucking problem.”

  Dad gets to his feet and walks to one of the windows, tugging the drapes aside to glance outside. “DNA results will be back in a few days.”

  I glare at his back, hating him. Hating the predicament I’m in brings back my anger toward Georgie. Whether she turned on me or not, she opened her fucking mouth to a detective. If she’d shut the fuck up, none of this would be happening.

  He faces me and a muscle in my jaw ticks. “Did you hear me?”

  “Am I fucking hearing impaired? I heard you.”

  “I’ll give you until then to come to your senses, Sloane.”

  Or else. It’s unsaid, but so fucking loud and clear, I’d hear it from the other side of the world.

  “There’s a jail cell with your name already on it,” Kiln says from behind me. “You’re guilty of two crimes. If you don’t rejoin, it seems to me you should go down for one of them. You’re no longer good for my bank account, so you need to pay for Steffie’s murder, fucker.”

  Jaeger can’t prevent me from punching Kiln in the mouth, but he and Dad hold me back from doing serious damage.

  “You’re good stock, Sloane. A child rapist and a woman murderer.”

  “Get the fuck out of here, Kiln,” Dad barks in fury.

  “You stupid motherfucker,” Jaeger whines at Kiln’s retreating back. “He’ll never cooperate now.”

  “No, he isn’t cooperating because he can’t keep his mind off Georgiana,” Kiln returns from just outside the doorway.

  Jaeger slams the door in his face. “Ignore him.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Sloane.” At Dad’s voice, I realize I’m still within his hold and jerk myself away. He holds his hands up. “She’s in this house, Sloane, when you shouldn’t—”

  “I know what the fuck I shouldn’t do,” I snarl, my insides shaking with rage and hopelessness. “Don’t fucking tell me.”

  “Kiln’s just venting, so forget this ever happened. Stay away from that girl.”

  “That girl has my daughter. Not another motherfucker’s. Mine. She went her whole fucking pregnancy without me. She’s ignorant about what’s going on with herself now that the baby is here. You want me to turn my back on her again? Fuck you.”

  “You’ve got to end it,” Jaeger concurs from behind me with a weary sigh. “There’s no fucking spin I can think of to explain why you’re suddenly with her after she turns eighteen. As for now, I wouldn’t need to do it, since you’d be locked under the fucking jail, with the key buried in cement and thrown in the Mariana Trench. Get it through your fucking head. You and Georgiana CANNOT be together.”

  Before I respond, Dad talks again.

  “She’s here. Where will she be if I throw her out? If it comes to that, you’ll be in jail because I’ll let it be known you got her without my knowledge and broke the terms of your bail. What will happen to her then?”

  “Let me get this straight,” I say slowly. “You’re threatening me with jail if I go near Georgie and if I don’t return to the band? Only, one will be for rape and the other for murder?”

  Jaeger flushes and looks away. Dad nods.

  “Then I see no reason not to turn myself in. The world will know her baby is mine and she’s the only innocent one in this whole entire affair.”

  Instead of searching out Abby to help Georgie, I’m going to ask her to bring her to her condo. If I’m in jail, she needs to be somewhere safe.

  “Wait, goddamn it!” Dad snarls, stalking ahead of me and blocking my escape. “You’re not thinking clearly.” His tone turns conciliatory. “There’ll be no pressure on you to do anything until you’re cleared. Try to stay away from her for now. You know she’s in the house. No one will disturb her. A lot can change in four months. By the time her birthday comes around, the public will have forgotten she existed and maybe you can quietly marry her, if you want. But you have to play this smart, Sloane. If you go to jail for any reason at this point, she’ll be blamed. Do you want that for her? Labeled as the girl who ruined the band and sent you to jail?”

  He knows he has me, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement. He steps aside and allows me to stalk away.

  “Thanks,” Abby’s voice floats to me, and I redirect my steps to the breakfast room, brushing past a maid as she departs, relieved my aunt’s here and already seated. The morning newspaper is spread on the table and a plate with eggs and sausage rests near the edge.

  Wondering why her posture has stiffened, I grab a piece of toast and sit next to her. “I didn’t know people still read those?”

  She lifts her head and narrows her eyes at me. Free of makeup, hair in a single braid, she looks pretty. Definitely not like the sexpot she enjoys being. “What?”

  I nod to what she’s reading and point. “Newsprint. Nowadays, everything is digital. You don’t need to kill trees just to satisfy your thirst for information.”

  “You’re such an asshole.”

  “Me? An asshole?” Finishing off my toast, I lean back against the chair, hands braced behind my head. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  She snorts, then returns to reading. My aunt’s angry with me Why, I don’t know. How much bullshit am I capable of handling before I fuck something up?

  I sigh. “Spit it out, Abby. What have I done to piss you off?”

  “Nothing to me,” she says with a sniff, closing her mouth when a maid comes in and sets a cup of coffee next to her.

  The woman looks at me. “Do you need anything, Mr. Sloane?”

  “I’m fine,” I tell the maid, who won’t leave until I answer. Once Abby and I are alone again, I glare at her profile. I’m only acquainted with a handful of her friends and I haven’t seen any of them in a year. “What have I done and to who, for you to act so shitty toward me?”

  She sidles me a glare, sips her coffee, then snaps a page. The newspaper crackles with effect. “Georgie,” she says as if that explains everything.

  “What the fuck do you mean? Georgie?” I sure the fuck don’t know.

  “This whole thing, Sloane. She’s here with your baby and locked in a room like a prisoner.”

  “She has a fucking key to use at her discretion,” I snap.

  She ignores my defense. “Meanwhile, I hear the guys are planning some party, complete with whores and porn stars.”

  “So?” I have no clue about a fucking party. If she paid fucking attention, she’d know I’m no longer in on any plans those motherfuckers may have. But no, she’s jumping on my shit. “You could show me a little sympathy.”

  Her face whips toward me and her lips thin. “Why, asshole?”

  “Do you remember what she’s accused me of?” I ask in outrage th
ough I’m trying hard to forget. “I didn’t take anything from her. What I got, she gave to me."

  “Shove it up your ass, Sloane. Georgie was sixteen. You were the adult. The authority figure. She was obviously willing to listen to anyone showing an interest in her. I was nice to her, told her I could get her into one of your concerts, and she believed me with no proof. So fuck you. You seduced her, impregnated her and rejected her. Now, she’s at your fucking mercy.”

  Abby’s words arrow straight to my gut. This is what she thinks of me? Nothing good. Intending to walk the fuck out, I rise and halt. I’ve got to become more accountable for my actions, to unravel my fucked up world. Dad blames everyone else for his fucking crimes. I don’t want to follow in his footsteps. It’s bad enough I pulled an underhanded move and offered to turn myself in on behalf of Georgie. Just to prove her loyalty to me. That’s the same trick Dad used on Mom. As Mom sided with Dad, Georgie sided with me.

  Fuck.

  “Helen insisted—”

  “Fuck Helen,” she fumes. “You were in a position to follow your heart. I wasn’t. Parnell was never going to leave Cassandra. I deserved better. If I thought I’d had a chance of a snowball in hell, I would’ve fought with everything in me for him.”

  She glares at me and the hurt I detect in her startles me. I thought she was with Parnell just because she could be. That isn’t the case, though. She really cared for him.

  “What’s wrong with you? You were on Georgie’s side. Remember? Until she needed you for the long term.”

  Having no defense to offer, silence is the best solution. Our quietness stretches, slides into a minute, then two. The sweat has dried on me, and the air-conditioning is blowing across my skin, chilling me. A clock ticks in the background. Distant sounds of a lawnmower can be heard.

  Abby doesn’t intend to talk to me again. She thinks I’m a piece of shit. She hasn’t said it, but her words and actions tell me she’s on Georgie’s side.

  “You believe Georgie was justified?”

  “Fuck, yes!”

  “At least I know where you stand. I’m not fucking here for me. Georgie needs help. She doesn’t know anything about taking care of a baby.”