Tak: The A**hole Club Series

by Ivy Harper

  “There’s a first time for everything, now get out.” Jazz motioned with her chin to the door.

  Of course, but first. I grabbed the top of her towel and yanked. She yelped, too slow to slap my hands away.

  She released a shrill screech. “Tak.”

  I laughed, turning before I could get a full view of her body. “Now, now, Ms. Ryland, I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t any bruising from your dip in the pool,” I said, walking toward the door.

  “Son of a bitch,” she cursed as the door shut. I leaned back against the closed barrier, lifting the towel. I took a deep breath.

  “Hmm, she smells like me. Good.”

  Humming, I left her side of the house.

  I decided to stop cursing Kole. He’d sent me something amusing to play with, while I got to the bottom of my missing memory and supposed suicide. The sooner I found that thief, I’d feel less stressed.

  Dropping the towel in the hallway, I headed back to the studio. However, my phone vibrated. Taking it out, I looked at the name on the screen and grunted in annoyance.

  Debating on whether or not I should answer, I swung the phone between my fingertips. Well, I guess this would be as good a time as any to deal with the person on the other end.

  “Hello, my least favorite band member. How is your dick-filled life?” I crooned as I changed my destination from my studio to my bedroom.

  “It would be great if the lead singer of the band would get his shit together.” Came Jay’s annoyed response.

  I shook my head. “Sorry, that’s something that just can’t happen. It would ruin his image.”

  “Tak, you’re about to have no image if you don’t stop being reckless,” he nearly growled on the other end.

  “That’s incorrect. I would have an image, just a shitty one,” I continued, ignoring his warning tone. Silence met my words. “Ah fuck, don’t be so sensitive. I’m following the Kole commandments to a T.”

  “Is that so, then why did pictures of you at a pool party pop up all over the net?”

  Because I was plotting to piss off my bodyguard. Something told me that explanation would only piss Jay off more. Usually, I didn’t care about what others thought, but Jay had been one of the few friends I’d made outside of the five I called my brothers and sister. He’d welcomed my offer to join Rejected One, when we were nothing but freshmen and starving musicians with a dream.

  “I just wanted to celebrate a bit before I was put under complete house arrest.”

  “Right, and now I have to deal with Kole trying to get me to keep track of you. I already have a man in my life I want to keep track of, and that’s my boyfriend.”

  I smiled from ear to ear, getting Jay pissed was my special talent.

  “Aw, and here I thought I was the only special guy in your life. Damn, there goes my crush of ten years,” I said, grabbing the remote off my bed and hopping on it. “I’m now suffering from heartache. Let’s keep this short, why did you really call?”

  “Urgh, why are we friends?” he complained.

  “Because of destiny and fate. We’re tied by a red string, but unfortunately you left me for that evil Connor, the uptight—”

  “I’m calling to tell you not to forget what Ark said. He’s not coming to another rehearsal—whenever that is—unless you apologize to him.”

  I dropped my hand, making a thumping sound on the bed. “You’re fucking kidding.”

  “I’m not,” Jay deadpanned. “He’s been bitching about it at my house. Crying on and off about how you don’t trust us and should have told us about your pain.”

  I groaned. “I swear to God, I curse the day you added that emotional ass to our band.”

  Jay sighed. Yep, I’d been the one to write songs and music, but Jay had been the one who’d pushed me to actually build something out of it. Ark was our Irish drummer, who’d been the best in the area.

  He was all about comradeship, fucking rainbows and shit. He and I clashed like oil and water. I called shit how I saw it, and he cried about shit.

  “You should call him and reconcile.”

  “Reconcile what exactly?” I asked, rubbing a frustrated hand down my face. “I don’t understand why anyone believes the shit on the news. I didn’t slice my wrists. No, scratch that. I’ve been low, Jay, you’ve been there. Have I ever been the type to sit in a bathtub and do something like that?”

  Jay was silent for a long time. I wanted to yell at him, the urge was so fucking strong it felt like not doing it was giving me a headache. “Jay,” I snapped.

  “I don’t know what to believe.”

  I stood up. “Shit, I—”

  “Listen to me, Tak. Listen. All I know is that for the past year it’s felt like you’ve been running from something. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve watched you and when I heard what happened, a part of me couldn’t help thinking you’d finally done it.

  “You’d finally succeeded at leaving behind whatever demon that’s been riding you. I won’t pretend to understand everything about you, but since college you’ve always been the guy who everyone thinks doesn’t give a fuck about anything. I’m one of the few people who knows you’re not that person. So, yes, if you told me you had a moment of weakness, I wouldn’t not believe you because you were there for mine.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to repress the urge to lash out. I wanted to cut ties and tell him to fuck off, but that would hurt one of the few fucking people who called themselves my friend. I couldn’t do it.

  Actually, I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to, but I wouldn’t do it. Jay didn’t deserve any of my anger. My anger was for the blank space between the chase in the parking lot and waking up in the hospital.

  “Look, I’ll have to call you later.” I needed to get off the phone.

  “Wait, Tak—” I cut the call, staring ahead.

  My mood was shit now. I didn’t want to see Ark, the kid band member whose selling point was being nothing like me. He’d always given me a huge helping of the one thing I couldn’t stand, pity. I lifted my phone, pausing when I spotted Deacon’s number.

  Shaking my head, I tossed my phone down on the bed. Deacon had been calling me since the party and my lackluster attempt at death. The last person I needed was him breathing down my neck.

  “Shit, what am I going to do?”

  I still hadn’t called any of my crew about what had happened. I’m sure they were chomping at the bit. I probably only had the luxury of being left alone because Skittles was holding the others back. A part of me felt bad for not at least texting her.

  I’m pretty sure if I were to see Pit, he’d rip me a new one, but the one I really didn’t want to face was Deacon. Nope. No thank you. It wouldn’t do shit for my confidence to get my ass beat by that asshole.

  A knock on the door brought me out of my churning thoughts. “What?”

  “Mr. Jensei, your band member, Mr. Ark is here. He says y’all need to talk.” The voice of Jazzy oddly calmed me, but I wasn’t of the mind to explore that because that emotional fucker Ark was in my house.

  I marched over to the door and wrenched it open, ready to rip into him. Instead, he threw himself at me. Even if I wanted to dodge, I couldn’t.

  “Tak,” he cried, his blue eyes watering over.

  I stood my ground, closing my eyes, praying for patience. “Please tell me you’re not crying.” He sniffled. I stiffly placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed him back. “You’re crying.”

  “Don’t be an asshole and hug me,” he said, rubbing at his face.

  I didn’t want to hug him. I didn’t even want to be near him. The real reason I felt uncomfortable around him was his constant need to express his thoughts. I kept everything in, he told the whole world how he felt.

  “I was so scared you’d died,” he wailed.

  “Well, in this moment, I wish I had,” I muttered to myself.

  Feeling someone’s eyes on me, I turned just in time to catch Jazz’s amused stare before she looke
d away. I narrowed my eyes. At least someone was enjoying the fiasco.

  “Do you mind leaving us?” I asked as Ark’s wailing had changed to a slight screech.

  She shook her head, pursing her lips together. “I… I’ll leave you guys to it.”

  She beat a quick retreat, but not fast enough for me not to see the tail of a tattoo on her thigh peeking out from beneath her shorts. I tilted my head sideways, ignoring the fact that Ark had wrapped his arms around me again and pressed his wet face into my chest. The tattoo was a welcome distraction from the revulsion that ran through me.

  I wondered if she’d let me see the whole thing one day. Then I answered my own question, of course, she would. She would show me everything. After all, I was motherfucking Tak.

  Averting my attention, I lifted my arms and brought down my elbows on the back of the annoyance clinging to me.

  “Agh, what was that for?” Ark demanded as he staggered back, his arms crossed as he pressed his hands to his shoulders.

  I gave him a blank stare. “Sorry, I was aiming for your throat.”

  With a look of alarm, he placed his hands around his throat. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” I said, fed up with playing with him. “I thought you weren’t going to see me anymore until I apologized.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Sensing a but in there somewhere, I gave him a probing look. “But?”

  “Jay told me I should come over and at least hear why you did what you did,” he admitted.

  I made a face at that. “I have a better idea. Let’s let bygones be bygones and I let you borrow one of my cars as an apology for being a bad band member?”

  “Are you seriously trying to buy me off with a fucking car?”

  “Is it working?” I would do anything to not have to apologize to the crybaby before me. Anything. Emotional conversations weren’t my cup of tea.

  He flushed as he glared at me. “You know you’re fucked up for not reaching out to us and leaving us in the dark, right?”

  I barely held back from rolling my eyes. “Yes, which is why I’m offering up one of my cars to you as an apology.”

  “I shouldn’t take your offer.”

  “No, you really, really should,” I pushed. The faster he took my offer, the faster I could get back to enjoying my bodyguard.

  He glared at me. “Fine, I want the Lykan Hypersport.”

  This fucker. It took everything in me not to punch him square in the face. Out of all the cars that lined my garage, he had to pick my newest toy. I inhaled deeply through my nose and said, “And you’ll come to practice?”

  He nodded. “It’s been like a few months since our last one, but when you finally drag us back. I’ll be there.”

  Reluctantly I agreed. “Fine, you can borrow it. The keys are hanging near the front door.”

  “Okay, but don’t think you can buy me with a car if you do this shit again,” Ark warned before he left.

  With a tired sigh, I shut the door and pressed my back against it. I glared at the phone that still remained on my bed. Next time, I wouldn’t hang up so abruptly and let Jay finish. If I had done so earlier, I would have known the jolly leprechaun was coming. Grunting, I took off my cardigan and waterlogged shirt and tossed them both in the trash.

  Chapter 11

  Sweets

  Jazz

  * * *

  I’d expected Tak to leave at some point during the day, but since his friend, the drummer had come and gone he’d spent the day by himself. Seeing the two together had caused my heart to squeeze.

  Ark was the blond angel of Rejected One. The youngest and all-around favored amongst the fans for his willingness to communicate on social media and take pictures with them. If it wasn’t for the dark draw of Tak, Ark would have way more fans. In fact, those who stanned Ark were almost psychotic with their level of devotion.

  I paused in the hall to hug myself. My fingers ached to type this up and post it on my forum, but I couldn’t. That would be violating the NDA I’d signed, but boy did I want to.

  Inhaling deeply, I straightened, dropping my arms. “Clear, calm, and pure thoughts,” I muttered, before I finally choked the life out of my inner fangirl. Clapping my hands together, I made my way to the kitchen. “Time to see what food rock stars eat.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I murmured moments later, staring at the back wall of the fridge.

  There was almost nothing in it. My stomach released a grumble. How could he only have water and microwaveable rice? How the fuck did a man who was six-three with two hundred pounds of muscle survive on nothing but water and rice?

  I bit my lip, closed the fridge doors, and squeezed my eyes shut. Once again, I opened the doors. Still empty.

  I closed the doors and moved to the cabinets. Opening them, I found junk food in abundance. I couldn’t believe it.

  From Ho Hos to Twinkies. He even had a large ass bag of gummies. Apparently, he survived off sweets. The one thing in the world that would destroy the figure I’d worked so hard for. Ugh, an addiction was an addiction and apparently his was sugar.

  Letting the cabinet doors close, I turned around and stared in absolute terror at the counter. This would be the reason I quit. Not because of his harassment and not because I was discovered. No, because of the temptation of Twinkies in the cabinet.

  I had to do something. Thinking hard, I spotted my cell and then a mental light went off. Grabbing it up, I then searched for the app I’d been forced to download by Dutch—who left his house only when there was a death in the family or his mom was coming over, causing him to hide in Trisha’s apartment.

  Spotting the green app, I released a cry of happiness. I could order groceries and have them deliver it here and from there I’d be able to feed myself. And here I’d thought musicians were so anal about their diet they’d keep a chef on call.

  Then again, maybe it was only the people in my life who had their own chefs. Speaking of which, after ordering groceries, I made my way to my room and made a phone call.

  “You rang,” Dutch answered.

  “Did you hack the cameras already?” I asked, chewing on some gum that had been in the drawer in the kitchen. “I tried to hold off calling until there weren’t many people in the house.”

  “Am I Dutch? Do I not hold the most tags for computer invasions?” he bragged.

  I laughed. “Are you also the asshole who burned my Rejected One poster?”

  His arrogance diminished there. “I told you it was an accident. I was trying to see if the cloth from my cosplay costume was flammable or not. I didn’t think it would turn into a firestorm.”

  “Excuses,” I said as I threw myself on the bed. “I still owe you for the crack in Tak’s first guitar.”

  I heard Trisha yelling in the back before Dutch released a curse.

  “How was it?” Trish shouted. I moved my head back, staring at the phone, annoyed. “Did you steal his underwear yet?”

  “And why would I steal that?” I asked, insulted.

  I was a true Rejected Fan. We’d steal something way more valuable than some underwear. Ah shit, now the thought of stealing his underwear filled my mind.

  “Because you’re capable of anything when it comes to your favorite band,” she said sarcastically. “I still think you’re going to spend at least one day breathing in his shirts.”

  I flushed. “Can you put Dutch back on the phone, please?”

  “Oh Jazz, you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t,” I snapped. “Can I speak to Dutch?”

  “I’m back. That shrew invaded my apartment again. I swear, I’ll have to seal my door one day.”

  “Whatever, that’s on you. Did you tap the cameras?” I asked, eager to get this phone call over with.

  “Yeah, I have a tie into the feed, and I’ve been looking at the old footage from the cameras around his home. I thought I’d have better luck there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “At first, I
thought I wasn’t getting a hit because the Las Vegas police hadn’t taken prints because they ruled it a suicide. They wrapped up pretty quickly, since Tak’s label pushed it.

  “But then I cleaned up the images we have from Vegas and expanded the search. I ran them through the criminal databases, but nothing popped up. It’s almost as if someone blacked out any trace of them. It’s like they disappeared. I’ve tried over and over for those last two weeks. Nothing. You have to have a lot of power and money to do that.”

  I bit my bottom lip at that news, banking the information. “What about his rivals or his bandmates?”

  “From what I could find and there isn’t a lot. There isn’t really anything about his bandmates that gave me a red flag. Now, he does have six friends he hangs out with the most during his downtime, but again I couldn’t really find much on them accept their names and professions. Oh, and one is the mayor’s daughter.”

  I lift a brow but say nothing. Before my mind can take off, Dutch continues, taking my thoughts in an entirely different direction.

  “Though after a bit more digging, I found a report of an incident that happen when he was in high school, but it literally has almost zero information on it. It’s like someone started a report and didn’t finish it.”

  “Okay, when was it filed?” I asked, curious.

  Dutch hummed along to the sound of his fingers clicking against the keys. “It looks like whatever it was is buried pretty well. The only thing I can find is that it happened the night of your prom…” He stopped abruptly. “Ah, sorry.”

  I didn’t react, instead, I said, “Look into the accident and see if it might connect to someone who’s near him now. And can you do me a favor and ask Julius to call me.”

  His tone turned subdued. “Sure, but why?”

  “I’ve been getting a bunch of electronic invites from father about meeting Harrison’s son.”

  “Okay, and Jazz, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  “Don’t, it’s fine, Dutch. I’m going to call you back later. Okay.”