Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  She lifts a brow at me and I can’t stop my smile. She’s a big Gone With the Wind aficionada. Though different, my words are similar, and hearing them will probably have her watching the movie again.

  I scratch my jaw. “I’d like to hire you to help her out.”

  “Hire me?” she squeaks. “To help? Like work or something?”

  She’s so incredulous, I laugh. At her giggle, our tension disintegrates. “Yes, spoiled brat. Work. What normal people do.”

  Her eyes widen and she looks around in an exaggerated contemplation of our surroundings. “When did we become normal people?” she asks, deadly serious.

  “Once Georgie gave birth to Bryn and needed assistance.”

  “Uh, Sloane, what the fuck do I know about babies?”

  “Fuck all,” I agree on a frustrated growl. “But you’ll be there to help Georgie with whatever she needs and to keep her company.”

  She squints. “So I’ll be like a duenna instead of a nanny?”

  “What the fuck’s the difference?” I ask, clueless to these terms. I know nanny, cook, maid, valet, chauffeur, gardener, groundskeeper, and butler. Anything else and I’m fucking lost.

  “Look it up,” she answers irritably.

  “Would you introduce yourself to Georgie? Offer to help her out?” I glare at her and find a term we’ll both understand. “Be her assistant?”

  “I haven’t fucking agreed to help her.”

  She cuts her eyes at me, and I narrow mine.

  “How long will I have to do this?” she asks like a petulant child and folds her arms.

  “I don’t know, Abby. All I know is she needs help.”

  “She may not want to have anything to do with me. I fucked her father.”

  “If she sends you on your way, then I’ll find someone else.”

  The logical choice is Zelda. My cook is like a mama bear, but Georgie would benefit with someone younger around her too, and something she’s never had—a female friend.

  “You’re a controlling asshole.”

  I’ve never denied that fact. “And?”

  “I’m not one of your lovers, who has to accept that.”

  “They don’t have to either. They choose to follow my directions.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Directions? Whatever.” She dismisses the conversation, knowing she won’t win this one. “What are you paying me?”

  “If you keep her company until I figure out what to do about Georgie, then I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  Her eyes light up and I know she’s onboard. She taps her manicured nails on the table, then she picks up her cell phone which sits under the newspaper. A moment later, she shoves it into my hands. “Everything on that model, I want.”

  The outfit is high fashion, which will cost me a fortune, but the fucking jewels bring on my scowl. Abby is serious about her wardrobe.

  “Fine,” I grumble. “You’ll have it by the end of the week.”

  Bouncing to her feet, she beams a smile at me. “Perfect.”

  “Wait,” I call.

  She twirls around, her silk robe flying around her legs and ankles. “What?”

  “You don’t get this shit if Georgie sends you away.”

  “Duh. I already figured that out, Sloane. I’d tell you to wish me good luck, but I’ll withhold the request knowing your bank account will suffer.”

  Without waiting for my response, she struts out.

  Bryn’s cries awaken me and I bolt up, squinting at the time. Eleven on the dot. Bryn has been waking up like clockwork, every two hours.

  Sunlight shines through the open window blinds. Not recalling them being open yesterday, I frown and stumble out of bed. Window blinds can wait. My daughter can’t. Scooping her up, I cradle her in my arms and nuzzle her belly. She quiets down.

  Detouring to the changing table, I replace her soiled diaper then head to the rocking chair.

  Kiln saunters out of my bathroom, adjusting his fly. Exposing myself to the dickhead isn’t something I want to do, so I backtrack and grab a blanket before finally sitting. Carefully, I guide Bryn to my nipple and arrange the blanket to cover my breast, before glancing at Kiln.

  Interest lights his blue-green gaze and he leers at me. He’s still completely bald, buff, and bad. His hard dick tenting his shorts grosses me out.

  “What do you want?”

  “You think I set you up,” he begins, focusing on my breasts as if he has superpowers and can see beneath the blanket. Only the baby’s little sock-covered feet peep out.

  “No fucking shit, dickhole. You did set me up.”

  That stupid fucking smirk blooming on his face should be drawn into his skin. He wears it so often. “I had no part in this. I can’t afford to. You, on the other hand, have everything to gain.”

  “Right. Sloane’s hatred, for starters.”

  “Sloane’s attention,” he corrects.

  “Oh, please. This isn’t the type of attention I want from him.”

  “Because you love him so much,” he says with insulting sarcasm.

  “I do love him.”

  Bryn gums my nipple and I suck in a breath at their mystifying soreness. It isn’t like she has teeth.

  “We lost money because of your suicide attempt. You were important then and you’re important now.” He gives me a hostile look. “You were a distraction then and you’re a distraction now.”

  “So you turned him in because—”

  “Shut the fuck up. I can’t afford to turn on Sloane,” he repeats.

  “Of course not,” I say crossly. “You’re riding on his coattails, too much of a dumb fuck to make your own money.”

  Laughing without amusement he comes closer to me, his cock larger and harder. Before he blocks me in on the rocking chair, I jump to my feet, displacing the blanket. My nipple falls out of Bryn’s mouth too, and she whines. Striving for nonchalance, I guide it back to her. The pig would bask in my fear.

  Kiln circles me, like a shark on the scent of blood. When he stops in front of me, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little baggie. I recognize the contents immediately. Coke. He’s brought me drugs.

  “You can let it all go, Georgiana. The pain and the loneliness. Remember how it helped you to escape?”

  Memories of being high and floating to a place where I wasn’t particularly happy but I didn’t suffer this empty misery, makes my heart pound and sweat pop off me.

  “Do a line,” he coaxes.

  My surroundings, my state of undress, no longer register. I’m hardly aware of Bryn. Only Kiln and the blow, and a sudden need poison my thoughts.

  Bryn moves and I tighten my hold, afraid I’ll drop her. “Wh-what do you want from me?”

  Kiln steps out of my path. “Put Bryn in her bed and suck my dick. I’ll give you the coke. I’ll even get you away if you’d like.”

  “To go wh-where?”

  He shrugs. “LA. I’ll set you up with money and drugs. You won’t have to live with the fear of Sloane suddenly tossing you out.” He gives me an under-eyed look. “Minus your baby. We both know that’s where this is going. Sloane doesn’t want you. He just has a sick fascination with you. Sloane has a few skin flick chicks as friends, who I’ll introduce you to.”

  Bryn gurgles and I rock her where I stand. Kiln’s words run through my head in a sickening wave. Funny the power words wield. What Kiln’s saying isn’t news to me. Sloane has said as much himself. But after last night’s visit, I believed he’d softened toward me. Shoving aside the depressing realization that I was wrong, I ask, “Who are skin flick chicks?”

  “Porn stars. Ever heard of Silver Night?”

  She’s the adult actress linked to Sloane months ago.

  “I know her.” He doesn’t bother to hear my answer. “I have other contacts, too. I can get you in pornos. Make you a star.”

  “To have sex with random men?” I squeak.

  “And women. The biggest female stars go both ways. You’d be making your own m
oney. Not having to rely on…” His voice trails off and he lifts a brow. We both know I have no one to rely on. “What if Sloane marries another woman? Who knows how long his wife will allow him to send you money? Women don’t like their men taking care of other girls.”

  “She’d have to go fuck herself if there’s court-ordered support.”

  “Really, Georgie? Court-ordered would be possible if he admits to being the baby’s father. But he isn’t, and you’ve gotten cold fucking feet on ruining his life.”

  My glare doesn’t halt him.

  “You’re pretty enough to make a good living fucking on camera.”

  “Why are you doing this? You want to turn me into a whore.”

  His lips tighten in a parody of a smile, but his eyes are frigid. “My father has already turned you into one. You may as well profit from it. No one will ever see you as anything more than the slut who tried to bring down a rock hero.”

  Grief sweeps everything away, and he snatches Bryn from me before I drop her. No one will ever believe me where Sloane is concerned. Without warning, Kiln grips my arms and yanks me around. He’s big and muscular, able to snap my neck with one hand if he so chooses.

  “You took all the pleasure of Sloane’s downfall away from me.”

  Bryn’s fussing in her baby bed, so I jerk away, stumbling back.

  “Leave, Kiln,” I order coldly. “You don’t care about Sloane. You only care you aren’t making him suffer. You’ve given me your message, now get the hell out.”

  The blue and green of his eyes clash and create a stormy gaze. But he holds up the bag of white powder again.

  Lips trembling, I fold my arms. “I don’t want drugs,” I stress, proud I pushed those words out though no one else would give a fuck. “I have to take care of Bryn.”

  “You need money.”

  “And? Unless I sell drugs, taking the coke won’t get me money.”

  “Take the coke. Suck my cock. I’ll get you money.”

  “No.”

  “Georgiana—”

  “I’ll waitress or something. And Sloane will pay child support.”

  “Sloane is taking Bryn from you. You can fight him, though. But will waitressing pay legal fees? Will your grandmother?”

  Of course not. Neither would happen.

  “You have nothing. No, skills. Not even a diploma to get into a trade school.”

  He’s one, brutal asshole. Tears rush to my eyes, but I don’t want them to fall. I’m already broken, but he’s trying to finish me off. I can’t allow it.

  “You’re useless,” he sneers. “Good for nothing but using your cunt. Now you have a baby.”

  “I’m not up for dealing with you right now.” The violent trembles in my voice match those in my body. I hate he’s getting the best of me, so I suck in a deep breath. “Dickheads require full attention.” I manage an admirable growl, gritting my teeth at his laughter and swiping at a covert tear.

  Kiln caresses my wet cheek, but I knock his hand away.

  “A violation of personal space, fucker.”

  “Touching you isn’t, but this is.” He takes my face between his hands and licks the tears. “Get on your knees and let me come in your mouth. I’ll take care of everything for you.”

  I bet he will. “Take care of Sloane. If you didn’t call me and you didn’t tip off Detective Jackson, find the fucker who did. I don’t want you. Why can’t you get that through your big, bald head? Stick your dick in one of your skin flick chicks.” I slap him as hard as possible, but he’s mountainous, almost impossible to move. “Leave me the fuck alone. Talk to Rand. Make him tell you the truth about your sister’s murder. Make him tell you he did it.”

  Shock yields quickly to anger and he grabs my neck. “Don’t ever fucking discuss my sister, you little piece of nothing slut. You believe Sloane, your murdering rock star. All he had to do was make you one of his skanks and keep his cock stuck down your throat. Believe him. That’s up to you. There are pictures proving his guilt, cocksucker.”

  His hold around my neck isn’t tight. He’s doing it to intimidate me. If he put some of his stupid bitterness to helping Sloane, they’d come out on top. “He’s your brother. Think about how your father is. The way he’s manipulated everyone. Sloane’s a lot of things, but he isn’t a murderer.”

  Using my throat as leverage, he shakes me. “Only a rapist, according to you. Right, Georgiana? And according to you, a deceitful liar who’s threatened my money, he isn’t a killer.”

  “Kiln.” Maybe, saying his name will bring humanity back to him and reduce his building rage. Lowering my lashes, I cede control to him and drop the subject before he strangles me. “I need a shower and stuff,” I mumble.

  His silence unnerves me. I glance at him and flush at his sexually degrading consideration.

  Releasing my neck, he rubs a finger along my cheek. “Do you need clothes? A dick suck gets you whatever you want. Drugs. Clothes. A skin flick deal.”

  Backing away, I go to Bryn’s bed. She’s on her back, resting contentedly and sleeping again.

  My head starts to pound. “C-can you leave, Kiln? I’ll…” What? I don’t know. I’m just scared.

  Sloane and I should be perfect for one another with such similar backgrounds. Except we disappointed each other, too.

  My door opens and I blink.

  “What are you doing in here, Kiln?”

  I look toward the sound of the familiar voice of Abby, whom I met months ago. She even got me into one of Sloane’s concerts, before I knew she was sleeping with my dad and helped drive my mother insane. Um, more insane.

  “What are you doing in here, Abby?” Kiln throws back at her.

  She holds up several, big black and pink shopping bags. “Clothes for Georgie.”

  “Well, leave them over there so I can finish up with her.”

  Abby sits on the bed, crossing her long legs and placing the bags on the floor. She’s wearing a red zebra print blouse with black shorts and heeled sandals, and she looks as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. Unlike me. “How about I call Sloane and tell him you’re in here fucking with Georgie?”

  Kiln’s intimidating stare is unsuccessful. He stomps away and slams my door shut.

  The moment he leaves, she glances at me. “Did he do anything Sloane should know about?”

  “No.” I don’t sound too friendly. I’m not sure why she’s here, even though she’s insinuated she’s bought me clothes. Mom and Grandma purchased clothes for me, too.

  “If you don’t want me here I understand, but Sloane wants me to help you. Be your assistant. I told him I wouldn’t force you to accept me. So it’s up to you, honey.”

  “My assistant?” Is Sloane insane? “I’m not important, so I don’t need an assistant.”

  “You’re very important. You have Sloane’s daughter. It doesn’t matter who believes otherwise. We know the truth.” Winking at me, she smiles. “Besides, you’re Helen Sanderson’s granddaughter. That definitely qualifies you as important.”

  I giggle at her teasing. “I’m just me.”

  “Well, just you, you’re important because you’re you. Don’t forget that.” She swallows. “You’re Parnell’s pride and joy.”

  In a roundabout way, she’s acknowledging the affair she had with Dad. Our gazes meet and so many questions pop into my head. How did she meet Dad? Did she know he was married? Why would she sleep with him if she did? Does she know why Dad cheated on Mom?

  She isn’t rushing me or judging me. I relax a little, still finding it difficult to wrap my head around the fact she’s Sloane’s aunt. She’s almost as young as he is.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No.”

  She smiles gently and cocks her head to the side. “Do you know how old I am?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like to know?”

  I nod. “I’m so curious.”

  “I’m almost twenty-nine. My father was an asshole just like Rand is. Two se
ts of children. My mother? She was twenty-two. Dad was three times her age and then some. Can you say gold digger and dirty old bastard? The result is…” She indicates herself with a sweep of her hand. “Mom’s fifty now and married to an eighty-year-old. He’s going to croak any day. So did I miss anything? What else do you want to know, hun?”

  Her tongue-in-cheek story covers a lot of background, but answers none of my questions about my parents. “Why’d you sleep with my dad?”

  At her blank face, I think I’ve offended her, until she shrugs. “I was bored and lonely, Georgie. He gave me the classic I-am-a-miserable-married-man. I fell for it. Did I encourage him to bring other people into his bed so your mother would easily accept me? Yes. He didn’t want to get a divorce, but he said he wanted us together and he didn’t want to sneak around. That was my solution.” She grabs one of the bags and pours clothes out on the bed, no longer looking at me. “What else?” The small tremble in her voice destroys her attempt at nonchalance. She thinks I’m going to be mean to her. I barely understand all that went on and I’ve done my own stupid things, so it’s hypocritical to judge her.

  “I, um, I need a shower. Will you watch Bryn?”

  Widening her eyes in shock, she pauses. After a brief consideration of me, she’s a flurry of activity again, shaking out a very cute nightgown. “Go ahead.”

  “O-okay.” At the bathroom door, I halt, afraid to trust her. Afraid to hope I can even think of trusting her.

  “Are you sure you’ll be here when I get out? You won’t take Bryn from me?”

  She raises her right hand. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I have an idea, by the way.”

  “You’re full of them, aren’t you?” I say with a half-smile.

  “You can say that,” she says brightly.

  “What’s your idea?”

  “That bathroom is ridiculous in its comfort. How about I get the baby and find a seat in there while you shower?”

  I swallow and a kernel of hope grows inside of me. “Really?”

  She springs to her feet. “As a matter-of-fact, you sit down and I’ll lay out your towels and whatever else you need. That’s what an assistant does, right?”