“Worth a try, right?”
“We don’t even have anything valuable. Hoodies, t-shirts, stickers… that’s what you’d be looking at.”
“I saw this auction for the original pages where Tandie Monroe wrote the lyrics and notes for some of her songs. You have anything like that?”
“That was only valuable because she’s fucking Tandie Monroe. No one cares about our songs yet.”
“Yet. So they might be worth something one day?”
Stupid, Xander. I lean my elbow on the table and massage my forehead. “That’s not what I’m saying. Besides, I write on my laptop. A printout of lyrics is hardly going to interest anyone.”
“What about those voice memo things you do when you have a melody or song idea?”
“Are you serious? You want my voice memos now? What the fuck would you even do with those?”
She quiets, and I can only guess what wicked plot is running through her brain. “No, that probably won’t help me much right now. Guess I’ll just have to stop by and say hello tonight. Can’t wait to see Matty. If I had to guess, he doesn’t even know we’ve been talking, does he? He’ll be so surprised to see me in the audience. General admission, right? If I leave now I can probably get into the front row.”
“No!” I clench my eyes shut, my chest tightening. “No, just… Maybe I can get a little money. I saved some of my cut of the advance.”
“Advance? I knew it! You were holding out on me, Alex. Not nice.”
I shudder at her tone. ”How much do you want?”
“How much do you have?”
“Not a lot.”
“Ten thousand would help me out right now.”
“Ten?! Come on.”
“Fine,” she grunts. “Seven.”
Seven. I close my eyes. “Mom, please don’t do this. Please.”
“Okay. Five, but I want it in cash.” Her tone hasn’t changed from my plea. I officially mean nothing to her.
I blink away emotion as I grip the phone. “I can’t get that kind of money in cash on short notice.”
“Fine. Then a check. Five thousand. I won’t go less.”
That’s everything I have. Nausea rushes through me. Prison riots rage in my head, slamming doors, weapons firing at will in bloody massacres. Don’t do it, Xander. You can’t. But what the hell choice do I have?
“If I do this, will you stop? No more posts. No more calls. You will leave us alone for good?”
She quiets, and I stop breathing as I wait.
“Fine. But I want the check tonight, in person, and I swear to you, if it bounces you’ll be sorry.”
“It won’t bounce. Just promise me you will leave Matty out of this. I’ll find a way to meet you somewhere after the show.”
After sucking back more painkillers, I manage to take my place at the kit nearly pain-free except for the dull ache that will plague me for the next few days. My state is more cloudy than sore, and after the first two songs, I even start to forget I’m drugged up. No, my brain is fully occupied with an entirely new crisis and the heavy effort of a coverup. Still not sure how I’m going to slip out of the meet-and-greet without causing a stir, but I can’t risk Matty finding out about any of this.
The show goes fine, but I’m grateful Lydia already cancelled plans to record the Limelight cover at this one due to my health. She wanted to wait until my head was one hundred percent. God, if only she knew where it was right now. I decide to use the migraine excuse one last time, and tell the others I need to go back and rest instead of hang out with the fans like we usually do.
After exiting the building through the back, I glance down at the text from my mom to double check her instructions. I wanted discreet, but this seems a little extreme. A block away to a back lot of an abandoned warehouse building? My pulse picks up the closer I walk in the darkness. I see a car parked right where she said, old and rusted, but not one I remember. There are three figures inside, and I clench my fists, fighting the urge to run. Something doesn’t feel right. Glancing over my shoulder, I see how alone we are. There’s zero chance of help if something goes south. But why would it? My own mother wouldn’t hurt me, would she? I almost laugh out loud at that.
Pulling in a breath, I brace myself and charge forward, the check folded in my pocket.
A woman exits the passenger seat of the car, and I cringe at the familiar face. Bitter memories come screaming back, slamming into the walls of my head as I force my legs forward. Her eyes are more sunken than I remember, her hair stringy and capped by gray roots. She’s thin too, painfully so.
“Alex! So good to see you.” Her arms flinch at her side as if she’s considering a hug, and I step back to thwart any attempt.
“I don’t have much time. I have to get back. Here. Then we’re done.” I hold out the check, stretching my arm as far as possible to keep my distance. My gaze flickers to the car where I can now see two men clearly. One lifts something to the window, and my heart slams against my ribs. A gun? Is this… no. A camera. Fucking…
“Wait, are you… What is this?” I hiss, tucking the check back in my pocket.
Her fake smile falters as she tracks my gaze to the car. “Nothing. Exactly what I said it was. You’re just helping out your mother. No big deal. The check, please?”
“So why the paparazzi?”
“Who, Tim? He’s just a friend.”
“A friend? With a camera?” A cold sweat breaks out over my skin. “Oh my god, you’re going to try to blackmail me again! I can’t fucking believe you!” I lock my hands on my head, breathing hard as I stare at the devil herself. “I don’t have money! Why can’t you accept that? I can’t fix your problems!”
“You have five thousand.”
I drop my arms, shaking my head. “Not anymore, I don’t. You broke our deal.”
I turn and start stalking away. What was I thinking? Why would I trust anything she had to say?
“Fine. Then I’ll see if Matty will help.”
I freeze, shaking as I force myself back around. “You know he can’t,” I growl in a low voice.
“Do I?” she shrugs. “What was his cut of the advance? He’s even been in a magazine. He’s probably worth more than you are anyway.”
I can’t breathe as I study her, trying to piece together the fragments of the prison that’s exploded in my skull.
“Fine. Just…” I grip the check which is now completely crushed in my fist. Moving forward, I shove it toward her and drop it in her outstretched hand. “But this is everything I have. Everything. If you try to use—that,”—I wave toward the photographer in the car—“it won’t get you anywhere.”
A small smile spreads over her lips as she flattens the slip of paper in her palms. “We’ll see. It was good to see you, Alexandre. Good luck with everything.”
I glare at her, my blood boiling in my veins. It’s everything I can do not to slam my fist into the ghastly grin she now wears. “Do not contact me again. I swear to you, if you so much as breathe a word to Matty, I will expose you for the demon you are, consequences be damned. I’ll give up my career to see you in prison.”
And in the cold silence that follows, I realize I mean every word.
CHAPTER 14
LYDIA
Xander pushes back from the lunch table and crosses to the trash, completing yet another meal without a word to anyone. Since our awkward encounter at his hotel room door, we haven’t spoken more than three sentences to each other. Was it me? I thought so until I noticed he’s avoiding everyone. He stayed in his bunk until the bus emptied out this morning, so unlike the man who’s usually hard at work by the time the rest of us wander out. I only know he didn’t skip breakfast because a crew member saw him grab something from catering after all of us were finished. No one saw him the rest of the morning. Not until lunch when he stuck his head in the room, as if checking to see who was here. He hesitated for a moment, but finally entered and took a plate to the back, away from us. The other guys ate a while ago, so i
t was only Kate and I left to exchange concerned looks at Xander’s behavior. After his grunted return of the polite greeting Kate attempted, neither of us tried again.
Now he’s gone, and Kate’s face reflects what I’m feeling.
“He seem weird to you?” she asks.
“Weird isn’t strong enough.”
She nods. “I’m worried about him. He’s always been guarded, but lately it’s… I don’t know. Something’s up. Has he mentioned anything?”
My fingers tighten around my fork. At what point is a promise to protect a secret eclipsed by the cost? Briefly I flirt with the idea of telling Kate the truth, but I push away the temptation. I at least owe him a confrontation and a chance to explain his decision to carry so much baggage alone.
“I read the after-effects of those migraines can last days. He’s probably still not feeling well.”
“Hmm… maybe. Okay, well, I have to check on something for Matty. You okay by yourself?”
“Totally.”
She smiles and scoots back from the table. “Oh, and tonight would be a great venue to get that ‘Jonas’ cover you’ve been talking about. The lighting and energy are fantastic at The Terrace.”
“Sounds good,” I return with a quick smile—assuming we can get our drummer back on his game.
Shortly after Kate leaves, I set out in search of Xander. I know he won’t be on the bus or anywhere he might see others, so after confirming he’s not at his kit, I search the rest of the building for a secluded spot that could hide an elusive drummer. The building isn’t huge, so it surprises me how long it takes to search and how many awkward encounters I manage to have with the staff. I waste a good forty-five minutes of my afternoon before I finally find him in a damp storage room, doing pushups on the concrete floor. He pauses when I enter, staring up just long enough for me to see the storm on his face. Without a word, he resumes his workout at a rapid pace. One, two, three, four, five… When he gets to ten I realize he has zero intention of speaking to me or acknowledging my presence any further. Fine. He wants to play it that way?
I close the door and plant myself on the floor right in front of him. He glances up, hesitating for only a second before continuing with thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen. I drop to my butt, cross my legs, and scoot even closer. His chin practically lands in my lap now. He finally stops, cursing as he shifts to a sitting position.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” I ask. His skin is slick with sweat, his shirt clinging to his chest and shoulders as he sucks back water from a bottle. Has he been doing pushups this entire time?
“Nothing.”
“Xander.”
He shrugs and tosses the empty bottle beside him before moving to resume his workout.
“Xander!”
He ignores me.
“Will you just…”
Nothing.
I grab his arm and yank it out from under him. He adjusts to catch his weight with the other and glares at me. I glare right back.
“I said nothing’s wrong,” he mutters, finally giving in and leaning against the cold, stone wall beside me. His body radiates a heat that draws me toward him, and we end up closer than I intended. Definitely closer than we should be.
“And I know that’s bullshit. So you can either tell me what the hell is going on with you, or I will tell Matty about the phone call with your mother.”
He shakes his head, unaffected. “You wouldn’t do that.”
I sigh and inch even closer. “Fine. I wouldn’t, but still.” Our arms are almost touching now. Sparks snap in the microscopic gap between us. “Please, Xander. I can’t watch you like this anymore. Is it her? Did she contact you again? Is it me?”
He pulls his knees toward his chest and shoves his hands in his hair. He sits in silence, some weight I can’t see crushing him into a ball before my eyes.
“Xander, please,” I say softly, closing the remaining space between us. I slip my arm around his, tugging until he surrenders it to me. A mistake? Yes. A huge one, because once I have it wrapped in my grasp, my fingers entwined with his, there’s no chance he’s getting it back. My heart pounds as I rest my head on his shoulder, nestling as close as possible. I hold onto him as if I’m buoying both of us in the middle of a dark, angry ocean.
He doesn’t say anything as I trace his skin with my other hand. Each finger, the back of his palm, his wrist. Up, down, wishing that my touch was a magnet to draw out the poison inside him.
“I saw her, Lydia,” he says finally, quiet as if the words don’t make sense to him. “Last night. She called me and threatened Matty, and I…” He shakes his head, rubbing his free hand over his face.
“What did she want?”
“She said she’d come to the show. That she’d confront Matty and do the same thing to him she’s doing to me. What was I supposed to do?”
He looks over, his haunted eyes ripping at my heart. I can’t breathe. “Oh my god. Xander, what did you do?”
He blinks, tears filling his eyes, a pain so deep it makes me wish for the migraine. “I didn’t have a choice. She would’ve gone after him.”
“What did you do?”
“Gave her what she wanted.”
Nausea climbs through my stomach, lodging in my throat. “How much did you give her?”
He jerks a hand across his eyes.
“How much?”
He shakes his head, his lips trembling from the violence inside him. “Everything I had.”
“Xander, no.” I don’t have other words as he breaks down, completely shattering before me. I pull him into my arms, desperate to absorb just a fraction of his pain. God, how can one person carry so much? Why should he have to?
I hold on as his tears soak into my shirt, snaking my fingers into his hair so I can pull him as close as possible. We’re one body, and it’s still not enough. How can I be falling in love with a man I can’t have? Who’s done nothing but push me away? And yet, we’ve only been fighting a relentless tide that’s been dragging us together since the moment we met.
I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of him. Fresh, crisp forests. That’s where he takes me when we’re together, and I’d give everything I have to escape to an isolated corner of the wilderness where I can protect him. I see us there now, me standing outside our cabin with an ax, daring the demons to try to reach him.
“I fucked up,” he whispers. “I know I did. I just…”
“Shh. We’ll figure it out.”
He shakes his head against me. “You don’t understand. She had a guy taking pictures. I think she’s planning something, but I don’t know how to stop her this time. I tried, Lydia. I’m trying so fucking hard!”
“Hey.” I shift even closer, turning until my lips are at his ear. “You’re not in this alone anymore.”
Then my lips are on his cheek, resting against the stubble they’ve wanted to touch for so long. They press harder, the heat of his skin burning, inviting. It’s not enough. It’s never enough with him. I don’t think it ever could be, and soon my mouth is drifting. His too, slowly, tilting up just a fraction. I could pull back and avoid the collision, but every magnet inside me has suddenly rushed to my face. I have no control as my mouth drives toward his.
A second later I learn his lips are the only soft thing about his body.
My other hand shoves into his hair, locking us together before he can change his mind. He straightens his legs, and I straddle him, sinking down hard on an erection I’ve been imagining for weeks. I groan at the contact through his sweatpants, rocking into place until he gasps out a curse. His kiss intensifies, his tongue searching for mine as if he’s living a fantasy of his own. He tastes like the ocean: salty, sweet, violent. A beautiful and endless abyss I’m longing to drown in. He hisses in a breath when I bite his lip, his hands running under my shirt to find the clasp of my bra. I’m panting for his touch, arching to give him better access to my breasts.
“Touch me,” I breathe through our kiss. “Please.”
A moan leaks past my lips when he does. Just a brush at first, then his fingers clamp down, teasing my nipple. I writhe into the contact, my hand releasing from his hair to explore his body. His chest is the cliff I imagined. Hard and warm with devastating angles that lead straight to the ripple of tense abs. I’m still pulsing on his lap, sucking in his kisses instead of air. Scorching from his touch that’s gotten bolder. When my fingers reach into his pants, his groan leaves us both in agony.
“Lydia…” he gasps as I run my palm over him. First down, then up. The feel of him, hard and hot has my blood pounding in response. Desire rushes south, settling in my core until my breath descends into shallow gasps. His intoxicating mouth still stealing air from mine doesn’t help.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmur against his lips. “Say it and I will.”
“You know I can’t.” His response is pure ecstasy. Pure agony.
I’m not playing fair. I sense his fight, see how conflicted he is, but instead of releasing him, I double down with a firm grip. He groans, his head tipping back against the wall. Yes, I see his struggle. I also see a restrained need that almost matches mine. How, despite everything, he’s still prepared to sacrifice his world to hold up someone else’s.
I’m not letting him. Not this time.
I rub my thumb over the smooth tip of him, loving the way his eyes clench shut. Surrender, that’s what I have now. I pull his lips to me again, matching the rhythm of our kiss with the rhythm of my hand. He tries to speak, but I cut him off. This is happening. For one minute of his tortured existence, he will let go. He will have what he wants.
His breathing is rapid now, his muscles hard beneath me. My greedy hands long to explore every inch of him at once. My greedy eyes wish his perfect body was naked and fully on display while I work it, but fantasy is done. This is cold, hard realty, and I’m taking everything I can, frantic at the thought that there won’t be another chance. Xander Silva can’t afford mistakes; I know he’ll never make the same one twice.
So as the ocean tide turns violent inside me, I become merciless in my pursuit. I own him in this moment and exploit every bit of that gift.
Falling North: A Turner Artist Rocker Novel (The Turner Artist Rocker Series Book 2) Page 12
