Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “I guess,” I answer with a shrug. “I’ve never had one.”

  “Neither have I, so let’s learn together.”

  “Okay, but Bryn will be awake in about forty-five minutes,” I say glumly, wanting to sleep and rejuvenate myself. “She wakes up without fail every couple of hours.”

  “Then let’s get a move on.”

  By the time Bryn starts to cry, I’ve showered, taken care of my hair, eaten cereal, raw fruit, and drank freshly-squeezed grapefruit juice.

  Before I move from the table in the sitting room, Abby brings Bryn to me. I spend the day holding my daughter, even while she sleeps, looking through a stack of magazines and listening to Abby regale me with her escapades.

  “You want what?”

  Mother’s incredulity annoys me. At least she affords me a small glance before she returns to the documents in front of her on her desk. I don’t understand why she’s so shocked I’d want to raise Bryn. It’s been two days since I presented my idea to Parnell, and I’ve only just been able to meet with Mother.

  “Bryn. Georgie’s baby. Parnell wants me and him to reconnect with our daughter and raise our granddaughter.”

  She turns the page on the contract she’s reading. We’re in Mother’s home office, but it’s far from dainty. It isn’t even masculine. The Eighteen Century French Provincial furnishings and dark red décor are hideous.

  Clearing her throat, she makes a notation before she graces me with the courtesy of a response. “Georgie will never agree.”

  I narrow my eyes. “And? Didn’t you hear me? I’ve finally figured out how to repair my marriage.”

  She flicks one of the pages and pins me with a filthy look. “Let me get this straight, dear. Last week, you found a couple to adopt the baby. Which we decided wasn’t in your best interest. Then you agreed to Reed being the baby’s father. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, you want her?”

  I nod.

  “Do you understand what we’ve done to your daughter?” she asks with a sigh. She’s been doing a lot of that lately around me. It’s damned annoying. “I removed Georgiana from her baby’s father,” she rages. “Broke the child’s heart. Isolated her from the world. Threatened her with a closed adoption if she contacts Sloane—”

  “She’s with him anyway!” I screech, but control myself at the tightening of her lips and decide to play on her ego and pride. “You’re losing your touch.”

  “Indeed?”

  Instead of hurting her, she gives me a condescending smile, and I glare at her.

  “There’s been a death threat against Georgie. A phony nurse went to her room.”

  She blurts the shocking news in a flat voice. A death threat? From her look, I know she expects me to show concern and outrage on Georgie’s behalf. It isn’t inside of me.

  With an exasperated huff, she refocuses on the sheet of paper. Flips the page. Pens another note in the margin. I wonder what deal she’s putting together, whose life she’s ruining, but I don’t ask.

  “Your snit is unnecessary, Cassandra,” she chastises.

  Since my release from the mental facility, she’s turned into the dominating authority figure I remember from childhood. Although she gives me whatever I ask for, she’s taken away whatever self-worth left intact after Parnell began his affairs, and Sloane threw me over for Georgie.

  “Do you want to know why you’re expending unnecessary energy?”

  Not really.

  I nod. She wants to tell me why. If I want my way, I have to give her hers.

  “Sloane’s daughter is involved.”

  “Meaning?”

  She glances away as if she’s not telling me the truth. How utterly ridiculous. Mother never dissembles about anything.

  Clearing her throat, she pastes a smile on her face. “Once he discovered the threat on Georgiana’s life, I couldn’t keep him away.”

  “He denies Bryn is even his,” I flare, a niggling voice insisting Mother is fibbing about something. Perhaps, I should contact him myself and ask if there really has been a death threat against Georgiana. For the time being, I play Mother’s game. “Also, he shouldn’t be anywhere near her if he doesn’t want his bail revoked.”

  “As if I’m in the boy’s mind, dear. He’s always been the wild card. Uncontrollable. Willing to risk everything for her.”

  Her. Georgie.

  I hate her.

  Mother’s brows draw together as if something has just occurred to her. Deep in concentration, she taps her pen on her jaw.

  “If I get the baby, Parnell will love me again.”

  She cackles. “The thought is charming. Doubtful, but charming,” she adds with an evil smirk. “Mr. and Mrs. Miserable.”

  “Mother, please. I swear if we get Bryn, Parnell and I will be happy again.”

  A long stretch of silence slides on before she speaks again. “What if there’s an alternative, dear?”

  I shake my head, frantic at the idea she’ll destroy my life instead of fixing it like usual. “Parnell wants Georgie and Bryn.”

  “And you only want Bryn,” she retorts with disgust and disapproval.

  “I can put up with Georgie.”

  A skeptical lift of her brow and she lays the pen aside to focus solely on me. “Suppose I give Georgie options? Give up Bryn or be disinherited and disowned. She doesn’t have to know who gets Bryn. If she makes the wise choice, she stays in the family and you have Bryn. I’ll find a way for Parnell and Georgie to mend fences without Georgie ever coming near you or the baby.”

  My mind spins. Not only because Mother sounds…calculating. More calculating. Her mind is horrible, always adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing. If she stuck to numbers, life would be good. Or, if she subtracted me from her awful little schemes and just did it to everyone else.

  Mother has always had a soft spot for Georgie, although I’m her main priority, as the one she gave birth to. Maybe, my apprehension she’s up to more than meets the eye stems from her regret over Georgie’s broken heart and concern about the death threat.

  She shrugs. “Perhaps you, Parnell, and the baby can relocate,” she continues.

  In Houston, I have social standing. The house I’ve meticulously decorated is an envy of every woman who wishes to be me.

  “You have to give something for this to work, Cassandra.”

  “But my house, Mother?”

  “Georgie may decide to keep the baby and walk away from us.”

  I roll my eyes. What woman in their right mind would give up wealth?

  “If she prefers to leave, you have to accept that, dear.”

  “I’d prefer her to leave.”

  “I mean with the baby,” Mother snaps.

  Georgie’s a little idiot, but even she wouldn’t turn down her inheritance for a baby. She can have more. I rub my temples. “Parnell won’t agree. He misses Georgie.”

  Mother waves a dismissing hand. “He’s agreed to everything else, hasn’t he? Leave everything to me, dear. Don’t overtax yourself.”

  I beam a smug smile in her direction, still unable to place the gleam in her eyes and still not liking it. But she’s given me what I want, as usual.

  Mother nods to the half opened door, and I get to my feet.

  “Relax in your old room, Cassandra, while I see to several urgent calls. Afterward, we can enjoy champagne and a light lunch.”

  Having no reason to complain, I head to the door, overcome with relief. Whatever Mother is planning, I can live with. I’m sure I’ll have Bryn, which means I’ll finally have Parnell back.

  Chapter Nine

  “Knock, knock.” Adam’s words accompany my sitting room door opening and him sauntering his ass in as if I responded.

  I shove a fried shrimp into my mouth and set my book face-down on the table. It crowds an already small space, but my reading material is no one’s fucking business. “If you’re coming in here to invite me back into the band, get the fuck out. I’m not inter
ested.” One day, the words won’t gut me.

  Today, the tips of Adam’s crew cut are blue. “Quint said he talked to you the other night.”

  Three nights ago. When Georgie called so frightened. In turn, it led me to order the What To Expect series. Abby should’ve delivered Georgie’s set to her. I need to know what the fuck’s going on so I can help her, too. Besides, I’m bored. I’m also determined to stay away from television, radio, newspapers, magazines, and the internet if I don’t want to read or hear something about Georgiana, her lack of character, and decency. She’s being annihilated and it’s pissing me the fuck off at how easily I’m forgiven and an innocent girl is picked apart. Speculations about her whereabouts range from an undisclosed location with a family friend to verified sightings of her at various locations around the world with a variety of men.

  Fuck. Throwing Adam a drop-dead-motherfucker-look, I target him with my bad mood. “We’ve established my position, so save your breath and get the fuck out.” I need to return to my reading. I’m only halfway through with What To Expect While You’re Expecting. Georgie needs me to know the information contained in book two, What To Expect The First Year.

  “I’m not here to ask you to rejoin. Not saying I wouldn’t like it.” Adam shrugs. “That’s on you, Sloane.”

  The potato wedges are delicious. I chew one and then dip a second into ketchup.

  “We’re playing a small gig tonight.” He glances toward the window, where the rain has abated long enough to usher in dusk. “In a couple of hours.”

  “You better get going.” Swallowing half a bottle of very cold beer hides my longing to join them. “Enjoy.”

  “We’re not asking you back in the band, but we want you to play with us. It won’t be long. It’s a nightclub owned by a friend.”

  Finishing off my beer does little to mend the wound deepened by the information. “I assumed you all were hanging around to see if I made bail. I did. Four days ago. There’s no reason for any of you to stay. LA’s calling.”

  “We’re waiting to see if the complete and total humiliation you intend for Georgie works, fucker.”

  “Get the fuck out of here. What I’m doing to her is none of your fucking business.”

  “You’re going to regret hurting her. You love her.”

  Glaring at him, I eat another shrimp. I haven’t visited her since I left her asleep, though if I’m not in the music room, I’m in here with my door ajar, listening for her.

  She hasn’t ventured out of the White Suite and my worry for her outweighs my belief she went public with our affair. I’ve considered moving her in here with me, but having her near me will be my downfall. I’ll never be able not to love her. Just knowing she’s here helps me. But what about her?

  Nosy motherfucker walks to my side and grabs my book, flipping it over. He reads the title aloud and the content registers. Amusement lights his pale eyes.

  “Not a fucking word.” I rise and snatch the book out of his hands.

  “Not a peep from me, Daddy,” he mocks. “I’m pleased to know you’re still as obsessed with her as ever.”

  “It’s for my daughter’s benefit.”

  Asshole howls with laughter. “Yeah, because little Bryn is expecting.”

  “Fuck you. Georgie had questions. I need to know shit in case she has more.”

  My explanation sobers him and I lay the book back on the table, regretful that I didn’t purchase eBooks. When I ran across recommendations for these titles on a maternity site, an image of Georgie reading actual books when we were in Mississippi flashed in my mind, so I thought she’d prefer physical copies.

  Thunder rattles the window panes and a streak of lightning flashes. The storm’s resuming with increased intensity.

  Adam rocks back on his heels and sighs. “We aren’t asking you to rejoin or to come to LA with us whenever we go. Everything’s on hold for the time being. Until we know about you. We’re here to support you. Tonight’s nothing big. Nothing to do with Rand. It’s just us, performing because we love it. We wanted you with us. For old time’s sake.”

  He departs, leaving me with longing and nostalgia. The frayed edges of my life rip a little more and I’m torn right down the middle. As much as I want to ignore the request, I miss performing.

  Thunder rolls again and my thoughts return to Georgie. If the lights go out, she’ll be frightened. Rainstorms don’t scare her, but darkness does. After summoning Amika to bring me a flashlight, candles and a box of matches, I go to Georgie’s room, expecting to find Abby with her. Instead, it’s quiet and dim in the sitting room and the bedroom, identical to my last visit. Even Georgie is curled up in bed, staring at Bryn as she sleeps.

  I set the stuff I carry on the nightstand. By the tensing of her shoulders, she knows I’m in the room. The key I gave her still lays in the same spot on her nightstand. The four books I had Abby deliver are stacked behind the lamp.

  Georgie’s guilt or innocence is like a whisper in the wind, an inescapable reality with rapidly diminishing importance. Compared to her sadness and isolation fucking with my head, my own anger and hurt are inconsequential. It’s the dichotomy I’ve always faced with her. My desire for her was wrong but our time spent together was right. My anger over what she did is natural, but my response to it, to her, isn’t.

  I’ve never wanted Georgie hurt and, yet, I’ve crushed her. I’ve allowed my father to crush her. If my sole reason is to remain free, I could understand. But I just wanted to strike back.

  I sit on the side of her bed and lay my hand on her hip. Nothing in my life is right and I don’t know how to undo all the damage I’m responsible for.

  “Have you visited the library downstairs?” I ask, knowing she hasn’t.

  She shakes her head. “Thanks for the books. I started on the First Year copy, but I got really curious about what was said about pregnancy, so I went back to it.” She peeps over her shoulder and offers me a half-smile. “I’ve gotten to chapter three.”

  She’s always preferred novels to non-fiction. “I’m halfway through it.”

  At my admission, her eyes widen and she lays on her back. “You’re reading it, too?”

  “In case you had more questions.”

  “I called Lindsey yesterday, but she couldn’t talk long. The lady Grandma hired to keep me company and keep me out of the way,” she explains at my lifted brow. “Kind of like how you did with Abby.”

  “It isn’t my intention to keep you out of the way. I’ve been hoping you’d leave this room.”

  “I like it here,” she confesses, her voice as sad and confused as her eyes. “I don’t have to face anyone and I can’t mess up. I’m safe.”

  “Georgie, you can’t become a recluse. I won’t allow it.”

  She sits up and some of the spirit that frustrated, amused, and lured me, returns to her face. “As if you have a say. Or even care,” she adds on a mumble.

  “I care.”

  Her shrug brushing off my words annoy me. “I care,” I grit, though she has no reason to believe me.

  Drawing her knees up, she lays her cheek on them and glares at me. “You care enough to leave. Again.”

  “I was coming back to you. When you turned eighteen.” Just as she needed to know about Cassandra, she deserves to hear that from me. Though I started out lusting after her, it turned into something more.

  “Why? You had your girlfriend and all your groupies.”

  “I never had a fucking girlfriend and you know it.”

  “Do I? What was reported—”

  “Isn’t always true. Something you know when you fucked up facts of my life. I’m fucking human. I make mistakes. I thought…fuck!” Frustration heats my words and she scowls at me when Bryn makes a little noise.

  “She’s a light sleeper, dickhead,” she whisper-yells, “so lower your voice or get out.”

  Glaring at her, I remain silent until the baby quiets, considering my options. Georgie needs an explanation about why I believed I coul
d stay away from her. “I hurt you, Georgie, and I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll tell you my reasons, but you must promise not to tell anyone. Especially Helen.” Helen swore if I told Georgie, she’d go ahead with her plans.

  “I promise,” Georgie responds.

  “Say something,” I direct once I’m done.

  Silent tears run down her cheeks and she scoots closer to me, settling herself onto my lap. “Your intentions were good and noble and understandable,” she whispers. “But you knew what hung over your head before I conceived. Why get me pregnant and then concede to Grandma’s demands?”

  I have no answer for her. Telling her I’d thought to marry her when I came back for her will sound like a lame attempt to gloss over my fucked up behavior.

  “Are you telling me this now because you believe I’d never intentionally hurt you? To clear your conscience? Why?”

  “Georgie, I don’t know what to believe right now. You spoke to the detective…We’ve been through this. I came in to check on you, not to get into any of this.”

  “I’m fine,” she assures me, scrambling off my lap and returning to her curled position, her back to me. “Thank you for coming. Bryn should be waking up in about half an hour to nurse.”

  “You can’t hide in this fucking room. Or any fucking room. You’re not that girl. You need to be around people.”

  “No, thank you. If I’m alone no one can hurt me. I won’t have to worry about being left because I’ll have no one around to leave me. As long as my baby is with me, I can be locked in a dungeon. I’d prefer to be.”

  While I understand she’s been hurt and betrayed by everyone, me included, her attitude fucks me off. I stand. “Get up.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, baby, do you really want to fucking challenge me?”

  She whimpers, knowing if she doesn’t submit willingly I’ll make her do it.

  “You’re not a fucking quitter. You survived without me for months, so I know you can stand on your own. Giving in to your fears is bullshit. Now, get the fuck up.”

  “Fuck you. I can be anything I want to be. It’s my business, not yours.”

  “It’s my business as long as my daughter is in your custody,” I growl, not giving her the chance to refuse me or respond to my unspoken threat. Fueled by frustration, I lean over and scoop her into my arms. Georgie can’t give in. She’s fought her way through too much, to throw in the towel now.