F*CKER

by Amo Jones

  “Nope. He must have something going on.” Just as I placed my drink onto the table, my phone dinged from beside me.

  “Speak of the devil?” Indie asked, picking up my glass. “I’ll get us refills and make sure Nikos is… comfortable.” Her eyes drifted and a small smile came to her lips.

  I shook my head, clutching my phone in my hand. “You’re so bad.”

  When she had walked out, I swiped my phone to unlock it and opened his message.

  Ryker: Sorry, baby. Lost my phone, just found it. How you feeling?

  Me: Feeling…good. How’d you manage to lose your phone?

  Ryker: What are you wearing?

  Me: What?

  Ryker: Do we need to look at getting you some glasses? That’d be sexy as fuck.

  Me: Not laughing, Ryker.

  Ryker: That’s not what I was aiming for.

  Me: What is it exactly that you were aiming for?

  Ryker: Hmmm, you giving me options?

  Me: Are we talking about the same thing right now?

  Ryker: If it has to do with your ankles wrapped around my neck, then yes.

  Me: I’m not that flexible.

  Ryker: We can work on that.

  I shook my head as Indie walked back through the door, clutching our drinks.

  “Was that him?” she asked, and I nodded.

  “Yep,” I answered, tipping the slushy, icy liquid down my throat. “I just don’t know, Indie.”

  She smiled, resting her head back on her seat. “I know. I know you don’t trust him in some aspects, and that’s understandable. But,” she said, bringing her eyes to mine. I swallowed, knowing I was about to get an Indie one-liner. She gave them as good as Becca. “He went to jail for you.”

  My jaw flexed and I placed the glass on the table. “I didn’t ask him to do that, Indie. And what? Does that mean that because he did one very, very big thing for me, I should turn a blind eye on everything else? Him doing that for me, is that supposed to make me trust him and make everything okay? No, Indie. It doesn’t. I don’t want this. I don’t want to have to owe another person in my life.” I took a breath, my voice shaky and my fingers trembling.

  “I’m sorry,” I added, blowing out a breath between tightened lips. “It’s just that… I have spent the last four years being with someone because I owed it to him for not snitching on my friends and bringing down my dad. Although Ryker and I are completely different, there are layers of that which still feel similar to me. I love Ryker, I do. I don’t know if that ever stopped, but I can’t jump from one messed up relationship to a crazy one, Indie… because that’s what Ryker and I will be. Crazy.” I looked toward her and swiped the stray tear that had fallen down my cheek, skimming over my lip and leaving its salty residue on the tip of my tongue.

  She smiled, walking toward my seat and pushing me over so she could squeeze in with her arm draping over my shoulders. “I know, honey.”

  I rested my head on her shoulder, staring out at the twinkling city lights and palm trees that were alight from the fairy lights woven through them. “We get lost in each other, Indie. Our bond is consuming and I just don’t think I’m ready for it. I don’t want to mess things up again for him and me. And then there’s all the fame? God, girl, it’s chaotic. I just don’t know if I want to be a part of that.”

  She exhaled, swiping my hair off my forehead and kissing my head. “Well, I guess you need to ask yourself that question.”

  I pulled up from her shoulder, wiping my eyes. “What’s that?”

  She smiled softly, placing her hand over mine with a reassuring squeeze. “Whether you want to stay and work through it with him, or put it on the back burner for now. But you need to tell him.”

  Nodding my head, I closed my eyes briefly. “I know what I need to do.”

  It was Friday night, and everyone knows that on Friday nights, Tommy likes to throw parties. This weekend, I opted for it to be at my place, since Bryleigh was back in Hollywood for a few days. I flicked my phone between my fingers and waited for her to reply last night, but it never came. Then I called her. Twice. She didn’t answer, so I called Nikos to see if they were okay, since my first thought was her safety. He said they were drinking out on the patio and were all staying at Indie’s, which was good.

  To be honest, I didn’t want Bryleigh back at the place she’d shared with Todd. I knew that would upset her too much. It still didn’t answer my question on why she wasn’t answering her phone though. Downing my fourth drink, I pushed my chair back and made my way inside. I walked into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. When I closed it, Alyona Shayk was standing there, leaning on the wall with her long brunette hair dropping over her huge-ass tits and small waist. I dragged my eyes down her body, and she smirked, pushing off the wall and walking toward me.

  She ran her hands down my chest. “What happened to you at the wedding?” Her eyes looked up to mine, hooded in lust. Aly was a supermodel; she was hot in the obvious way where she knew it, or why else would people throw millions at her just for her to wear their clothes down a runway? But you put her next to Bryleigh, and Aly’s so-called beauty evaporated.

  I pushed her hands off my chest with a smile. “I happened,” I answered, my eye slightly twitching.

  “No need to be hostile.” She smiled up at me and I twisted the cap off my bottle, raising the rim to my lips and taking a large pull of the cold beer. “What do you want?”

  Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she stood on her tiptoes, bringing her lips to my mouth. “I want you inside me again, filling every inch of me until I’m screaming your name.”

  My eyes narrowed, and just as she pushed her lips onto mine, I looked up to find Bryleigh standing in the living room, her mouth open and her head tilted.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, gripping around Aly’s arms and pushing her off me. “Bry, wait!” I yelled, chasing her until she pulled open the front door, and I followed her out. She paused on the first step, her back turned to me.

  “I was going to choose you,” she whispered hoarsely, in disbelief. She spun to face me. “I was going to choose you, dammit!” she yelled, walking toward me, stabbing her index finger into my chest.

  “Bry,” I whispered, clutching onto her finger.

  She pulled it away like my touch stung her, and I could kill Aly.

  “Shut up, I’m talking now. This,” she waved her hands in the air, “this, I don’t have time for, Ryker. But my healing, I was willing to heal with you. But this,” she pointed to the floor, shaking her head, “this I can’t do. Won’t do. I won’t compete for you! Not with supermodels, not with groupies, and not with the rest of the damn world. We’re done here.” Like fuck we were.

  I launched forward, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her body against mine. Dipping my mouth down to her ear, I inhaled her scent, before growling, “You, you compete with no one, Bryleigh. Wanna know why?” I asked, squeezing her tighter as my heart clenched in my chest at the thought of losing her again. “Because I fucking love you, Bryleigh. I never stopped being in love with you.” My voice was an angry whisper that I was trying to imprint into her brain.

  She wiggled away from me with a frustrated scream, turning on her heel to face me. “You don’t get to say that. Not this time.” She spun back around and ran.

  And I let her go.

  My blurred vision meant nothing up against my broken heart. I continued to make my way back to the SUV, where Nikos had parked, hoping he was still in there so he could take me to the airport. I needed to get away from this town, away from anything that had to do with Ryker, which was impossible, because everything reminded me of him. That’s how many memories we had.

  I pulled open the back door to find Nikos still in the driver’s seat, talking on his phone.

  “Ah, yeah, all right, bye.” His eyes drifted to mine in the rearview mirror.

  “Can you take me to the airport, please?”

  “Okay.” His eyes stayed on mine as he put the ge
ar into reverse and pulled out.

  Pulling up to the airport, he pulled into the loading zone and I smiled at him. “Thank you for everything, Nikos.”

  “Hey, no problem, Bryleigh. Do you want me to walk you in?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s okay. There’s a flight in a couple hours that I booked on the drive over here. Thanks though.”

  I pushed open the door with my mini suitcase in hand, pulling the handle up before walking into the building to check in.

  The flight felt horrendously long, and my eyes were so red and puffed that I could barely keep them open. I hailed down a taxi and directed him toward Indie’s apartment. When we pulled up, she was already walking out of her townhouse in a bathrobe, with her hair messy and worry evident on her face. Billy, the gateman, looked at her sideways, but shook his head with a smile. Indigo Reed is all you needed to say, and anyone who knew Indie would know that was enough explanation for anything crazy. Though, if you called her by her full name, Indigo, she’d probably kill you.

  I paid the taxi then walked up to her. “Honey?” I said, approaching her carefully. “You know you’re out here in the street dressed like that, right?”

  “Are you okay?” She ignored my statement.

  “Yes. I think. No, not really, but I’m here.”

  “Okay. Now can you please escort me back inside while shielding me so no one sees, please?” Her eyes looked desperate as she silently pleaded with me, but I knew internally she was having a meltdown. That was Indie; she was loyal to those closest to her before herself. I squeezed her into the side of me as we walked toward the doors. Indie looked at Billy—who was approaching his seventies—and rolled her eyes. “Oh, quit it, Billy. You so would’ve tapped this ass fifty years ago.”

  He laughed, shaking his head as we quickly walked to the steps that led to her little house. “Drinks tomorrow night? Dominic’s brother, Jake, is throwing a party at Silk. Shall we go? We can go drink at a karaoke bar before?”

  I laughed, resting my head on her shoulder. “You know I can’t turn down karaoke. Then maybe I’ll get drunk enough to spill all about my night to you.”

  ***

  The fact I was standing on a stage at the local dive bar, waiting for Indie to choose the song for me to sing, showed just how very drunk I was. I downed the rest of my drink, giving it back to Indie, who was walking past the stage, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

  She winked. “I think this song is appropriate.”

  “What?” I prompted, as she walked back to the table, fishing out her phone. I rolled my eyes at her, my head hazy. Evanescence’s “My Immortal” started playing, and my smile dropped, eyes narrowing in on her.

  She shrugged, bringing her phone up. I thought about running off the stage. I was drunk, and the people in this bar were drunk, but I knew Indie would create it into a bigger mess than what it really was.

  So I sang. When the guitar came through with the band, I lost it. My throat clogged with unseen feelings, feelings I didn’t know were there. I missed Ryker, and anything to do with a guitar was going to break me; I knew this. So why were tears dropping from my eyes as I ended the song?

  Quickly swiping them away before anyone noticed, the music ended and the crowd all clapped, some standing for a round of applause. I bowed at them dramatically, placing the fake smile I carried so well onto my face before jumping off the stage and walking back to Indie.

  Her head tilted. “That was beautiful, Bry. I knew you could sing, but you would give Amy Lee a run for her money with that song.”

  “Why that song?” I asked, taking a seat beside her and picking up my now full glass of vodka. Well, at least she’d topped me off.

  She smiled. “I never told you this, but one day, Becca and I walked in on Ryker playing that song in acoustic on his guitar. It was after all that shit blew up, and Becca said it reminded him of you.”

  “He told her that?” I asked her, shocked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, he did. He has always loved you, Bryleigh.”

  I swallowed more vodka, hoping it would take me someplace else, where no one knew Ryker Oakley so I didn’t have to face him at every blink of an eye. “Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  She smiled sadly. “Enough of that anyway. Let’s get you nice and thoroughly drunk! You ready to get under someone else?”

  I whipped my head toward her. “What? No! No, Indie.”

  She laughed, waving me away. “Just kidding.”

  She wasn’t kidding.

  “You better be.”

  After finishing our drinks, we made our way toward Silk, the bar where Jake Abrahams was holding one of his exclusive parties. The only reason we could go was because he was Dominic’s brother. Jake Abrahams was a record producer, and one of the biggest. He had a monster mansion in Calabasas with one hundred cars and one hundred blondes to match.

  I hooked my elbow into Indie’s, smiling at her and inhaling the fresh air on the boulevard. She started singing and hopping on her feet, while her hands flung out to the side dramatically and sang out Guns N’ Roses’ “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” I smiled, joining her.

  Memories of Becca began flashing through my mind and my throat caught. God, I missed her. I looked ahead of me, picturing her smile beaming as she twirled around and curved her finger toward me and Indie, swinging her hands in the air to the slow beat of the song. Before I broke into tears, I turned to Indie, her smile so similar to Becca’s. This was all the therapy I needed, my best friend.

  The line to get into Silk was long, but luckily Dominic had put both mine and Indie’s names on the list, so we were sent through immediately.

  “You okay?” Indie yelled into my ear, with Fetty Wap’s “679” playing in the background, the deep bass drowning out her voice.

  I pulled back, sloshing my drink around with my straw. “Yeah, I’m fine. Shall we find Dominic?”

  She shook her head, leaning back into my ear. “No need. Let’s just have fun, yeah?”

  I nodded my head in agreement before she pulled me onto the dance floor.

  Many songs later, our bodies had created a glistening sweat from all the dancing and laughing. We were both well and truly drunk. It was around midnight, so I decided to drag her off the dance floor to make our way back to the bar, hopefully to down a glass of water. Only, Indie had other plans.

  “Two rum and Cokes please,” she said, bobbing up and down in her spot.

  I narrowed my eyes, twisting my body so I could face her. “What’s your problem?”

  She smiled, running her eyes between me and the bartender. “Me? Nothing.”

  “Don’t bullshit me.”

  She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “It’s just, okay, don’t lecture me, but… you remember Frost?”

  I fought the urge I had to rub my temples.

  “Yes, the biker? From Vegas?”

  She nodded, taking a sip of the fresh drink that was placed in front of her. “Well, you know how I’ve never had to work hard to get anyone, ever.”

  “Go on,” I replied, interested in where she was going with this.

  “Well, he wouldn’t come near me. I hit on him left, right, and center, but he discarded me like I was nothing.”

  My shoulders slacked and I sighed, hoping I didn’t have to have this conversation with her. “Babe, he’s a biker—not that I’m an expert on them—but maybe he just wasn’t chasing that night,” I offered casually, deciding to join her on our new drinks.

  “Nope, ever, apparently. I asked Ryker about him, and he said he doesn’t even chase. He just fucks who he wants, but it’s usually only their… What are they called? The girls who hang around their club?”

  “I don’t know. I know nothing about that world. But, Indie? You need to be careful. I’m serious. He might be too much trouble, even for you.”

  She scoffed, downing the rest of her drink, the bright strobe lights flashing through the dark club, with the deep bass pounding. I looked outside as the
club doors opened when people came in, to find paparazzi out there snapping photos.

  I finished my drink, placing it onto the neon countertop, and turned to Indie, who was facing the entryway of the bar. “What?” I said, tilting my head at her. “What is it?” I turned around and saw the piles of photographers trying to shove through the front entrance, snapping pictures. I looked back to Indie, who was already looking at me with a questioning glare.

  “What, Indie? It’s Hollywood, and this is a Jake Abrahams event.”

  She shook her head, hooking her arm around mine just as Dominic and Jake walked toward us. Dominic was the older one. He stood around six-foot, and the fact he owned the most well-known gym in Hollywood could probably paint a clear enough picture on what kind of abs he was packing. Which was more like an eight-pack, machine guns as arms, and calves built for football players. He was hot too. The sides of his head were shaved close, with the top longer and slicked back. He pulled it off, gave him an edge. Jake was the cocky one of the two, I think. I had never met Jake before, but I had seen him in the magazines enough; he ran his empire and was worshipped here.

  Indie smiled, pulling Dominic in for a hug. “Hi! Sorry, I thought you guys might be too busy, so we just entertained ourselves for most of the night,” Indie explained, stepping back. I smiled at them both, and Jake’s eyes ran over my body casually.

  Oh dear.

  My throat felt raw and my lips dry. I raised my hand up to my throat, running my tongue over my bottom lip to moisten it. When my eyes came back into focus, which was off Jake and his eyeballing, Indie was saying something to me.

  “Sorry, what?” I asked, tilting my head at her.

  “This is Jake, and you’ve met Dom.”

  “Hi, yes, I’ve met you, and it’s nice to meet you.” I smiled politely at Jake.

  He grinned. “Not right now, but it will be soon.”

  My head cocked in confusion. Jake was hot in the rich, preppy way. There were a lot of rumors that had circulated through the media about him, though mainly centered on him being a hothead and occasionally losing his shit.