Insatiable (Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll Book 3)

by Michelle Hazen

  “You guys,” Jera says. “What the...”

  I catch Kate before she hits the ground. I’m a beat late to stop her, though, and all I can do is lower both of us, hugging her tight and hoping she doesn’t feel the tile.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her, because I know Danny won’t. It only makes her cry harder. She clings to my arms, shirt, her fingers digging in fiercely wherever they touch me, and I don’t flinch. “Breathe,” I tell her. “I’m here.”

  Jera’s whole body is still except for her hands, which slowly rise to her belly. Kate’s broken iPad sits on the floor, the clock reading thirty-eight past the hour.

  “Tell her,” I grit out.

  Danny turns away from us and goes back to sit on the couch. He’s not moving smoothly now, but he’s not guarding his stomach. It’s more like he’s guarding...everything.

  Kate’s tears soak through to my skin even though she’s holding her breath, shaking silently in my arms.

  “Tell me what?” Jera says. She doesn’t look to Kate, or even to Danny. Her eyes come right to me, and I straighten a little more, despite the weight of the woman in my arms.

  It’s been a long time since anyone looked to me in a crisis, but for once, I’m ready. I hold her gaze for a second, willing some of my newfound steadiness into her. God knows, she’s going to need it.

  Danny rubs his hands down his jeans, turns them palms-up and looks at them. He sets them down on the couch to either side of him and glances down at the iPad. “We should get on stage.”

  “Cancer,” I say.

  “Hey—” he bites off, but I talk over him.

  “He has cancer.”

  Jera’s face changes. It’s not that it goes pale. It’s more like how you can put as much makeup as you want on a corpse, but it’s never going to look like the person you love, not ever again.

  “He won’t see a doctor,” I say, holding Kate a little tighter. “Or get any treatment. And he’s going to fucking die without it.” I don’t know that for sure, but I know as much as the internet does, which is that his choices suck even more than mine.

  He bounds to his feet. “What, Jax? Like you’d be the first signing up to live your life as a eunuch? How about you stop hiding behind my wife, stand up, and tell me where you get off blabbing my private fucking business to the last person who needs to be worrying about me right now?”

  I don’t answer him. He’s very definitely not looking at Jera, but I am. She’s shaking, but it’s just the start of her peeling apart. She’ll run, and once she’s alone she’ll slowly go to pieces. We’ll at least have to find a way to get her to eat, for the baby’s sake. She could face his illness if she had the hope of treatment to cling to, but without it...

  Jera and Danny have always had each other. Before Jacob showed up, before Maya or Kate or even me. When I first met them, Danny had long hair and he was always swiping Jera’s hair elastics to keep it out of his face. They finished each other’s sentences and songs and gave each other endless shit in a shorthand I never learned to decode. I don’t know what one would be without the other, and I can’t help but wonder if they do, either.

  Her knees wobble. I tense, not sure how to hold Kate and catch Jera, too, but then she starts to move. She takes one slow step, and then a faster one as she shoves Danny back onto the couch, the cushion bouncing with his weight. He starts to snap something, but it gets lost somewhere when Jera crawls into his lap until she’s kneeling half on him and half on the sofa. His Adam’s apple bobs and he looks afraid. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen that expression on Danny’s face.

  Jera digs both her hands into his hair, knocking his beanie onto the floor as her fingers draw into painful-looking fists. She tilts his head, very gently, up to hers. “I can’t,” she says. “I can’t know you’re dying when I might have changed it. And I can’t feel like this with a baby inside me, do you understand that?”

  His eyes start to glimmer and I don’t believe this is happening.

  He blinks. “Okay, Jimi,” he says shakily. “Okay.”

  Kate collapses in my arms. I thought I was supporting her before, but now it’s like she has no bones, no speech left in her. She’s just crumpled paper, nothing left to hold her up after all these months of being strong for everyone else.

  I kiss her hair, feeling a little weird about it, and then Danny whispers, “I’m sorry, Kate.”

  Kate’s head lifts, a little unsteady as she focuses on her husband. Jera lets him go and takes a step back, her eyes narrowing. “Why would—”

  But he’s not looking at Jera anymore. “If the stress might hurt the baby, I can’t put off getting treatment. I can’t—”

  “Why are you sorry?” Kate asks, bewildered. “Danny, what can’t you do?”

  I figure it out before anyone else in the room. He can’t let nature take its course. Not if it would upset Jera enough to endanger the baby. His only other option is to submit to surgery, and probably impotence. Which means divorcing Kate.

  He just looks at her.

  She blasts to her feet. “No. Don’t you start that shit again.” She grabs his shirt with both hands and hauls him off the couch. “I don’t care what they have to cut off, I am not leaving you.”

  He catches her wrists. Soft and hard all at once. “It’s easy to say that now, when everything’s intense and scary. After a few years without sex, you won’t be able to help yourself. You’ll start wanting other things. Other men.” He tips his head, and her fingers falter on his shirt, though he’s not trying to break her grip. Not yet. “I’ll know, Kate. I always know those things, even when I don’t want to.”

  My heart rips through its next beat, and I want to look away. I forced him into this moment, but I couldn’t live with the future he’s describing, either.

  “Toys aren’t enough to satisfy you,” Danny says. Brutally. Calmly. “We tried that when you were on the road, remember? You said it was always like holding your breath until you could get home.” He takes the first step back.

  Kate’s trembling fingers lose their grip on his shirt as the tears spill over. “That’s bullshit,” she grits out, her voice broken in so many places I wouldn’t know it was hers if I weren’t watching.

  Danny doesn’t look away. “I’d rather leave now, while we still love each other,” he says, “than watch that love slowly choke you out.”

  The look in his eyes cripples me, my knees grinding into the carpet of the dressing room like I weigh more than I did a moment ago.

  “You’re right, Danny.” Kate’s shoulders straighten, the way I’ve seen them do a thousand times when other people falter and she steps in. She doesn’t even bother to wipe away the tears that make her gray eyes flash. “Toys aren’t enough for me. But neither is your cock. It’s you that satisfies me.” She takes a step forward and lays her hand on his chest. Not grasping, the connection between them surging to life without her so much as curling a finger. “It’s you I refuse to live without.”

  “Don’t,” he whispers, and his whole body wavers under her touch. “Please.”

  Her hands slide up his neck, over his jaw, and when she cradles his face, it’s gentle and absolutely ruthless. “You can’t protect me from loving you. No matter where I am, anything that happens to you rips into me, too.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I know it hurts you to watch me suffer. I know, Danny.” Her thumbs skim over his cheekbones, the thick silver ring he used to wear encircling her thumb now. “But I am not leaving you, and you don’t get to leave me.” Her voice climbs again, fierce and uncompromising. “Do you hear me, O’Neil? That’s my name, too. It’s our name. And I am not giving it up.”

  When he realizes he’s lost, he doesn’t slump. Doesn’t curse or argue. He just looks relieved, and more scared than I ever want to see him again. But the first thing he reaches for is Kate.

  Chapter 24: Apologies

  I kick one of the backstage cables out of my way, ignoring the bustle of activity around me, and all the unh
appy fans shouting from the stadium. None of that is important. Kate grabs my arm and I look up from texting Dean, my sudden spike of hope wilting when she shakes her head. “No one has seen her,” she says. “Jax, I’m sorry, but we’ve got to go. I called in every favor I’ve ever had to get Danny an appointment at this hour. You coming or not?”

  I hesitate. Everyone I love is hitting the end of their rope tonight, but I feel strong, purpose flooding into me like threads of sheer steel through my muscles. I’m done lurking in the background like a helpless junkie or a guilt-ridden criminal. Even so, I can’t be with everyone who needs me right now. I’ve got to choose.

  “Not,” Danny answers before I can. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “They’re going to be squeezing goo on my balls and rubbing them with a stick. Riveting stuff. Think you can skip it.”

  I raise my voice so they can make it out over the shouts of the frustrated crowd up front. “Are you sure? Because I—” The noise spikes all of a sudden until I can’t even hear my own voice.

  Kate shoots a glance at me, and I move to where I can see through the opening onto the stage. Holy shit, Ava’s out there, an oversized cream-colored sweater draping over the sleek black leather of her catsuit, her usual array of wigs and hair extensions nowhere in sight. The arm that’s not holding the microphone is hugged across her belly. She’s moving like Danny, like there’s a spike of pain deep in her gut and she’s clutching at it even as she tries to keep going.

  She stops dead center, doesn’t smile or raise a hand. I’ve never seen her so motionless on a stage. The wild cheering cracks and falls away to a low, concerned buzz as the fans recognize the difference as well.

  “Fuck,” Kate breathes beside me. “This is not going to be good.”

  “I know you came here for a big show. For a girl with spikes from her fake hair down to her stilettos.” She takes a breath, the microphone catching the shakiness of it and projecting it into every last inch of this massive room. “The truth is, I’ve been a better person for all of you than I’ve ever been in real life.”

  What the hell? I turn to glare at Jera. “Look, if this is about whatever you two dug up on her, you better tell me right now if I need to drag her off the stage before she does something she’ll regret.”

  Jera shakes her head, her hand fluttering to her belly as she stares out at the stage. Is she feeling bad about what she said now, one mother looking at another? “I don’t know, Jax, I’m sorry. I have no idea what she’s doing.”

  “I’ve only got one song left in me,” Ava says. “I’ll make sure you get your money back, because the show you paid for can’t happen tonight. But if you want to stay, I’d like to show you the rest of me.”

  My skin shivers, paper-thin and suddenly chilled.

  Kate checks the time on her phone, but when she tugs at Danny’s arm, he covers her fingers with his own, his eyes not wavering from the stage.

  “A few years back, I was with a man who twisted my head up, bad,” Ava says, looking impossibly tiny on that stage, in that too-big sweater. “He was a manipulator, but it took me a long time to figure out I wasn’t the problem—he was. I had already left him by the time the plus sign showed up on the stick and I was determined not to let it drag me back.”

  Somebody in the crowd yells a word that makes me flinch, and Ava looks down, nodding.

  “I was on the table—” Her voice breaks on the last word and I move toward the stage.

  “Jax, don’t.” Kate jumps forward to match my stride but doesn’t touch me. “Listen, if she’s doing it this way, it’s because she needs to.”

  I hesitate and my friend’s clear gray eyes lock on mine as the rest of my band catches up with us, just outside the reach of the lights.

  “I was already on the operating table,” Ava starts over, her voice quaking. “When I realized it was my daughter. My son.” She turns away from the crowd and the microphone scrambles a bit as it brushes against her sweater, her shoulders curling forward.

  I grab Kate’s hand, because I need to hang onto something, and I squeeze it hard. It wasn’t my baby, but it was Ava’s, and goosebumps claw across my body as it sinks in. What she’s been through. The secret she’s been carrying this entire time.

  It takes several long breaths before Ava turns back around again, lifting her chin like it’s filled with lead and she’s determined to carry it anyway. “I’m not saying abortion is the wrong choice for everyone,” she says. “If you’re ever in that moment, and you have to ask yourself if you can be a good mother...” She clears her throat and her voice gains strength. “The only one who can create the answer to that question is you.”

  “Jesus,” Kate murmurs, and I know she’s thinking of the press massacre this is going to create.

  “For me, it was the most wrong thing I could have ever done.” She takes a breath. “But it wasn’t the first time I abandoned somebody I loved in order to keep my career. No,” she corrects herself, “in order to keep being the person I was on stage.”

  Her sister. God, how can she blame herself for not keeping her sister alive, when she was still a teenager herself? After everything I told her?

  “The only way to stop doing that is to destroy AVA.”

  Ava takes a step forward, the click of her heels echoing through the empty air above all those people’s heads. She’s crying but not sobbing, tears glittering in the blast of spotlights trained on her.

  “This is me,” she says. “I’m weak and I am afraid. I’ve pushed people away when I couldn’t stand the way their mistakes reminded me of my own.” She looks away from the audience for the first time. Even though I know I’m hidden by the glare of the lights, I can read the hope and the resignation in her face as she searches the shadows for me.

  I let go of Kate’s hand and move forward, but Ava looks away just as I cross the border between light and dark. I’m not sure if she saw me. I hesitate, because this is her confession, her moment. I won’t take it away from her if this is what she needs.

  “This is my last show,” Ava says, and my knee joints go loose and shaky. She can’t mean that, can she? “It’s okay to stop buying my songs, to put away the old albums. I won’t blame any of you for walking out right now and deleting me from your iPod. But before I go, I owe you one last song, and I hope a dear friend of mine will agree to come out and help me sing it.” Instead of turning to search the backstage again, she closes her eyes tight and whispers into the microphone like a prayer. “Jax?”

  She must hear my steps, because as soon as I start to move, she turns to face me. She’s so courageous even now that she forces herself to hold my eyes when she says into the microphone. “The song is ‘Apologies’ by Grace Potter and the—”

  I don’t let her finish the attribution—or the apology—cocooning her in my arms even as I bend down so she can keep her feet planted on the floor.

  “You are so much more than I ever had any idea about,” I whisper into her ear, the lights searing me through my shirt. “And I love you so damn much. Jesus, I’m proud of you right now.” Her chest shudders with a sob, and I hold her harder. “You don’t have to do this, you understand? I’ll walk off right next to you and you’ll already be the bravest person I have ever met.”

  Ava steps back and as soon as she does I register the cheers and applause from the crowd. I ignore them as she shakes her head. “I need to say this, Jax. To you, to everyone. To me. I need to finally be real, you know?”

  “You don’t need to do it with a stuffy nose, though.” Kate appears on stage, ducking between us to shove a handful of Kleenex into Ava’s hand. Ava hesitates, guilt weighting her face as she braces for the other woman to say more, but instead Kate turns and gives me a quick hug. “Love you,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry we can’t stay to watch. Good luck, and call if you need us.” She squeezes my arm and jogs offstage.

  Ava blows her nose, and glances around for a place to put the tissues. I take them and shove them into the back pocket of my jeans. Turn
ing around, I nab a microphone and pause in front of my guitar in its stand. I’ve never been in front of a stadium without my band, or without the shield of confident, celebrity-brand magic that Ava just cracked wide open with her speech.

  In the end, I leave my guitar behind. When I return to my place at her side, I let Ava have the center of the spotlight. Following her lead, I fill my lungs and begin to sing. Without looking at the audience, without the clamor of in-ear monitors telling me every tiny thing I’m doing right or wrong. I just pour music straight out of my guts the way you can only really do as a singer.

  We do it a cappella. Without the cushion of rehearsal, there are places where the timing slips a bit, but the sadness of the song scrapes so raw in the air between us I’m not sure anyone notices. My lower voice wraps hers in depth, and Ava soars. Gone are the half-growled rock songs and wailing electric guitar of her usual set. Her voice is pure, unadorned beauty.

  I thought she intended this song for her baby, but she sings it straight to me, the shame in her eyes fathomless beneath the well of tears as she hits the last two lines. I fall quiet and let her sing about how it’s past the time for dignity, and all that’s left is the apology—one that hits me so much deeper because she sang it. In front of the entire world.

  The air is clear and quiet between us when the last note finishes, and I’m so glad my friends already left for the hospital.

  Because every one of them would try to stop me from what I’m going to do next.

  THE HEAT OF THE LIGHTS drops away dizzyingly fast as soon as we cross back into the shadows, only then do I reach for Ava’s hand. I wanted all her fans to see her walking off the stage of her own free will, without needing help from anyone.

  “Ava, listen to me.” It’s too loud to talk back here. The fans are insane, screaming the house down behind us. Her fingers, so steady on the microphone, are trembling against my palm. My jaw clenches. I want to rip a hole in the side of this building and escape with her to the sunlight and softness of her bedroom in Brazil. She gave me a refuge when I needed it, and I wish like hell I could do the same for her.