Fight the Spark: Sons of Sinners Part 1 (A Rock Star Romance)

by Grace James

  “Why don’t we sit down and talk about it then?” I asked quietly.

  He snorted. “Talk about my fucked up family? That what you want? For me to cry on your shoulder? Not happening. Get the hell out and leave me alone.”

  The venom in his face shocked me; I dropped my hand away from his cheek and took a step back. This was a side of Connor that I had never seen before; a side that I wouldn’t have believed existed before I walked through the door. “No – no, that’s not what I meant. I just meant…you don’t need to do this, we can –”

  “You want to fix me, Amy?” he spat. “Is that why he let you in here? To fix me? ‘Cause I can’t look after myself?”

  “Connor.” Blake murmured a low warning from behind me.

  “Fuck you.” Connor shot at him, before looking back at me. “Well?” he demanded.

  I couldn’t stop my lower lip from wobbling, so I bit down on it to try and stop the tears that were threatening to fall.

  “WELL?!” Connor shouted in my face, his face contorted into a violent scowl. “You come in here judging me –”

  “I wasn’t judging, I just –”

  “GET OUT!” he roared.

  Frightened, I took a step back – and hit something solid. It took a second for me to realize that it was Blake. His hands landed firmly but gently on my upper arms and he turned me around, keeping my back to him, and pointed me towards the front door. “Go wait outside,” he ordered, his voice low but hard as granite.

  I didn’t even think about arguing, I was too upset, too astounded by Connor’s behavior.

  I just walked out without looking back.

  The door shut behind me with a bang and I just stood on the stoop, waiting.

  For what, I didn’t know.

  34

  I heard raised voices inside the house. I couldn’t make out everything, but I got the gist. Connor was pissed as all hell at Blake for letting me come over – and for some other things I couldn’t quite get a grasp on – and Blake was…well, he seemed to be trying to calm the situation with a fairly equal mix of aggression and diplomacy. I didn’t hear a scuffle, but I assumed there was one because it went quiet for a few moments and then I heard Blake yelling “SIT THE FUCK DOWN YOU LITTLE SHIT OR I’LL KNOCK YOU INTO THE GODDAMN GROUND!”

  That seemed to do the trick. After that there was just silence.

  A few moments later, Blake emerged and herded me down the steps and away from the house. When we got to the gate at the end of the yard, he stopped. “So, that went about as well as an orgy in a convent,” he said wryly.

  “Really? You’re making jokes right now?” I snapped, swiping angrily at the tears that had escaped down my cheeks.

  “Not a joke, Princess. Just an observation,” he said quietly.

  “Is he – was he…” I bit my lip and looked away, determined to stop my stupid tears. I hated that I was crying in front of Blake – Blake, of all people. But I couldn’t help the fresh tears that fell to my cheeks when I remembered the way that Connor had looked at me, like he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me.

  “Oh, fuck. Don’t cry.” He stepped towards me and raised a hand, as if he were going to touch my face, or pat my shoulder, or do something in an attempt to be comforting. But then he clearly thought better of it, and lowered his arm, ramming his hand into the pocket of his jeans.

  I sniffled. “I’m not crying.”

  “Okay. You’re not.” His voice was soft. “Look, you should go home, get some sleep, he’ll come around.”

  “What was that in there?!” I asked, needing to understand what had just happened.

  Blake sighed and tipped his head back. “That was Connor being Connor.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “That wasn’t him, I don’t know who that was, but it wasn’t him.”

  Blake leveled me with his gaze. “Yes, it was,” he said simply. “Maybe that wasn’t the Connor you know, but that was him alright. When he’s stressed, when shit doesn’t go his way, that’s what he does.”

  “What? Snorts coke and intimidates his girlfriend?”

  Blake winced, but he held my gaze. “Yes.”

  I just stared at him for a second, speechless. Then I turned on my heel and flew towards my car.

  “Wait!” Blake called. “Amy, hang on.”

  “Why? So you can tell me how much of a dick my boyfriend is?” I shot over my shoulder.

  I heard him jog up behind me. “Wait, that’s not what I’m doing.”

  I whirled towards him. “Really? Because it sounds like that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

  “I know. But I’m not, I swear. I’m just being honest. And I’m gonna tell you something else, too: he is different with you. He hasn’t gotten like this once since you guys started dating, not until this thing with his mom. He’s gonna wake up tomorrow and realize what a fuck-up he is and he’ll come apologize, okay?”

  I looked at him closely, searching his eyes for a hint of mockery – but there was none. Surprisingly, he seemed genuine. And worried. I suddenly felt a small rush of compassion towards him. He may be an ass, but he clearly cared about his cousin.

  “I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position by calling you,” I said. “I’m sorry if I made it worse.”

  He shrugged wryly. “Not your fault. I’m sorry for inviting you over here to get yelled at, I just thought it might help. Epic fail, obviously.”

  “You were just doing what you thought was right.”

  “Yeah, for all the good it did.” His brow furrowed as he glanced back at the house.

  “Are – um – are you okay?” I asked hesitantly.

  He shot me a sardonic look that told me my question was ridiculous. “Don’t worry about me, Princess. I got this.”

  I nodded and offered him a small smile as I turned and walked towards my car. As I drove away, just before I turned the corner at the end of the block, I glanced into my rearview mirror. Blake was still standing there, a solitary shadow in the glow of the nearby streetlight.

  35

  I went to college. I went to work. I studied.

  But Connor was on my mind the whole time.

  The more I thought about it, the angrier I got about the way that he had treated me…but Blake’s words kept going around and around in my mind.

  He IS different with you.

  He’s gonna wake up tomorrow and realize what a fuck-up he is and he’ll come apologize, okay?

  Only tomorrow didn’t come.

  I felt like I was going crazy. All I wanted was for Connor to show up and wrap me in his arms – and for none of the past week to have happened.

  Mel and Hayley knew I was upset, and they tried to pull me out of it.

  “Hey there, Care Bear, do you want to go get tapas tonight?”

  I blinked and looked to my side. Hayley was standing there; we were both working the cash registers at Realm Records and there was a lull, all the customers were browsing the shelves. Hayley’s head was cocked to one side, and she was looking at me with big, concerned eyes.

  “Why...the hell...did you just call me Care Bear?” I asked.

  “It’s a pet name. You call people by pet names when they’re upset.” She said like duh!

  “I’m not upset.”

  I could tell Hayley didn’t believe me. I had told her and Mel all about what happened the night I went to see Connor. Mel had been angry on my behalf; Hayley had been sympathetic – and was continuing to be sympathetic with sickening nicknames, apparently.

  “Wrong, you totally are.”

  “Nope. Not upset. At this point I’m furious with a sprinkling of rage.” I grumbled.

  She pointed a finger at me and drew a circle in the air. “Well, whatever this is, it needs fun with girlfriends tonight, not moping about idiot boyfriends.”

  “Or ex-idiot-boyfriends.” I sighed.

  Her mouth fell open in surprise. “You’re breaking up with him?!”

  “No – maybe – I don’t know…b
ut either way, I’m starting to think that he’s broken up with me and I just haven’t gotten the memo yet.”

  “I know and I don’t blame you, but for what it’s worth, Derren said that Connor feels really bad.”

  My stomach lurched a little at the thought. “He does?”

  “Yeah. They had a gig last night out in Boulder City. Derren said Con was miserable the whole time and he ended up getting wasted afterwards.”

  “That doesn’t mean he feels bad, that just means he’s still on a bender.” I pointed out.

  “Maybe, but I’ve known him a long time, and God knows he does some stupid things, but he does seem different around you. Tamer, I guess. Don’t give up on him just yet.”

  “Blake said something similar,” I admitted.

  “Well, there you go. Blake knows him better than anyone.”

  “That’s what worries me,” I muttered, fiddling with the fliers displayed on the counter in front of me.

  Hayley snorted. “Okay, you do have a point there.”

  I sighed. “Right, no more talking about Connor. Let’s talk food instead. So, tapas when we’re done here?”

  “Yes! Absolutely. I’ll text Mel.”

  A few hours later, Hayley and I met Mel at the tapas place, Casa del Mar. It was a rustic little place with whitewashed walls and little stained glass lamps dotted all over the place. We sat in a booth next to the window, where we could watch the world go by, and ordered an array of spicy dishes. We talked about anything and everything but Connor and they worked really hard to keep my mind off of him. It failed, but I loved them for it all the same.

  “Derren’s letting me paint him naked,” Hayley announced as she dunked a spicy chicken wing in a bowl of garlic butter.

  I choked on a chick pea. “Completely naked? No strategically placed sheet?”

  “Nope, balls n’ all,” she chirruped, grinning.

  Mel cackled. “Is this for college or just for fun?”

  “Little of both,” Hayley admitted. “But I’m gonna submit it for my Still Life Study.” Hayley was in her junior year at UNLV, working towards her bachelor’s in Art.

  “I bet you guys don’t get much painting done,” Mel muttered, popping a garlic mushroom into her mouth.

  Ugh. I didn’t want to hear about happy-couple-painting-sex.

  “Did you see that thing on T.V. last week about serial killers?” I changed the subject, jamming my fork into an unwitting piece of chorizo.

  “Um, nooo,” Hayley said cautiously. “Care Bear, are you –”

  “Hayley,” I warned, pointing my incapacitated chorizo at her. “No more pet names.”

  “I saw it,” Mel cut in. “Sooo interesting, I love the crazies! That’s gonna be my field, I’ve already decided.”

  “You wanna work with murderers?!” Hayley squeaked.

  “Not just murderers, crazy murderers,” Mel clarified. “I’ve already spoken to my professor and he’s recommended some really interesting internships for the summer.”

  “Aren’t all murderers crazy?” I asked.

  “Nope, some just suffer from momentary insanity, then they’re ‘normal’ again and full of remorse,” Mel tore off a fluffy piece of pita and dipped it in some hummus. “They’re the boring ones. The ones who get off on it repeatedly, they’re the interesting ones.”

  “I’m a little scared of her,” Hayley whispered to me across the table.

  “Hey, at least you don’t have to live with her,” I whispered back.

  Mel snorted. “What can I say? I’m a Psych major, you knew that when you moved in with me. And anyway, just because I like studying murderers doesn’t mean I am one. Well, I mean, there was that one time in Reno, but I don’t talk about that…” She picked up her knife and stroked it lovingly.

  We all dissolved into giggles.

  36

  After dinner, when Hayley went to paint Derren (or have sex with Derren, or paint Derren while having sex with him, I wasn’t completely sure), Mel and I went home and watched a movie together. We ended up eating a bucket load of ice cream while Norman Bates laid out his crazy for all to see. Psycho was Mel’s choice – obviously. I’d let her pick without argument because all of the movies I would have chosen reminded me of Connor.

  He had rendered my Tarantino collection useless.

  I was Quentin-less and pissed.

  But, for the first time in over a week, it wasn’t a struggle for me to fall asleep. Dinner with my girls had cheered me up a little, and that, coupled with a full stomach and sheer exhaustion, finally pushed me into a deep sleep.

  But it didn’t last for long.

  I woke up to a loud knocking penetrating my sleep-fog. Shoving myself out of bed, I checked my phone, seeing that it was twelve thirty. I figured I knew who it was. The only person I could think of who would show up at this time of night was Connor. Suddenly I was wide awake.

  Fitting the chain, just in case it wasn’t Connor, I opened the door a crack.

  “Heeeey, Amy Scott.” Connor’s lazy drawl filtered through the small opening as I peeped out at him. He still had dark circles under his eyes and his stubble was thicker than he’d ever worn it before but, damn, he was still gorgeous. And, I strongly suspected, still not exactly sober. As I looked at him, his face split into a wide grin. “Let me in, I need to see you.”

  “Are you drunk?” I hissed, conscious of the fact that it was late and Mel was in bed.

  “No, I swear, I’m not drunk.” As he spoke he lifted his hand to his mouth and took a deep pull on a cigarette, leaning his head back and blowing the smoke up into the night. “Can I come in?”

  “Not really, Mel’s asleep, she has early classes tomorrow.”

  He fixed me in place with his earnest green eyes. “Come on, I don’t want it to be like this.”

  “It didn’t have to be, Connor,” I snapped.

  He let out a half-sigh, half-groan. “I know, you’re right...but I miss you. Just come out and talk to me if you won’t let me in. Please?” His low voice was full of dejection and misery. Despite my hurt and anger towards him, I couldn’t ignore it when he begged me to talk to him. After all, that was what I’d wanted all along wasn’t it?

  “Okay,” I sighed. “Give me a minute.” I retreated back to my room and pulled on an oversized hoodie over my pajamas and shoved my feet into some slipper boots. When I went back and opened the apartment door fully, I saw him still puffing on his cigarette. I stepped outside and closed the door quietly behind me, folding my arms across my chest. He closed the gap between us quickly, popping his smoke between his lips and throwing both his arms around my waist, hoisting me into the air and spinning me around. I squealed in shock, laughing a little even though I really didn’t want to.

  He plopped me back to the ground and looked down at me, his eyes drinking me in like he hadn’t seen me in years.

  “Did you miss me too?” he asked.

  “No comment,” I said tersely as I waved away his smoke and scrunched up my nose at the acrid smell. Then I took a closer look at what he was smoking. “Are you seriously smoking a doobie right now?!”

  He shrugged.

  “Connor! I can’t believe you!” I shouted, my fury at him overflowing.

  “What? It’s just a little green!”

  I pulled out of his grasp and stepped back, glaring at him.

  “Okay, okay,” he mumbled, throwing it to the ground and scrunching it up with his foot. “Gone. Happy now?”

  “Not really,” I snapped. “Why are you here, Connor?”

  “I told you, I don’t want it to be like this.”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  “That’s not enough?”

  “No.”

  He sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I really want to make this right. How can I make this right?”

  I was ready for that question. “For starters, you can come back when you’re sober.”

  “I smoked one joint, that’s it!
And half of it’s on the ground –”

  “I don’t care, Connor. I’m not comfortable with it, especially after the way you were the other night – actually, can you even remember that?!”

  He hesitated, dropping his eyes to the floor. That was enough of an answer.

  “Like I said,” my voice was cold. “Come back when you can think straight.” With that I went back inside my apartment and slammed the door in his face, locking it roughly and then storming back into my room before I could change my mind and run the other way – into his arms.

  By the time I made it back into bed, I was shaking. Half of me felt invigorated, proud that I’d stood my ground; the other half felt terrified that I would never see him again, that he would call my bluff and just disappear.

  I didn’t sleep a wink for the rest of the night.

  37

  As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long to find out which side Connor would come down on. When I got back to my apartment after work the following evening, he was waiting for me. He was sitting on the steps out front of my apartment block, looking down, slapping his hands on his thighs in a fast beat, tapping his right foot as if he were playing a kick drum.

  I stopped a few feet away and watched him.

  After a few moments, he looked up and spotted me, stopping his drumming instantly. For about five seconds we just stared at each other. His eyes were clear and he had shaved; he was wearing a simple white t-shirt that made his eyes seem even greener than normal.

  He stood and took a couple of steps towards me. “Can I make it up to you?” He asked.

  I didn’t want to say ‘yes’ right away, but I also didn’t want to turn him away, so I settled for somewhere in the middle. “What did you have in mind?”

  “A surprise.” The ghost of a smile lit upon his lips. “An adventure.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “I can’t make it up to you if you don’t at least let me try,” he said quietly.

  That was a good point; it also had the added benefit – for him – of making me seem entirely unreasonable if I said ‘no’. And, to be fair, he did seem completely sober. But I had to be sure. “Where’s your trusty hip flask?”