I know she’s right. He will be an absolute shit if he goes with me.
“I’ll break up with him before I leave,” I tell her. I cut off her smile, adding on to my promise. “After my last day at work. No sense making everything awkward when I only have a few weeks left.” I put my notice in since I’ll be gone for so long.
She pats my hand. “Good idea. Just don’t leave it until the last minute. He might be an ass sometimes but that’s cruel.”
A knock on the door lets us know our food is here. Abby get it and unpacks the bag onto the table.
“I won’t wait until the last minute, mum. Can we eat now?” I ask, done with discussing Logan.
Abby doesn’t respond. She simply picks up her chopsticks and stuffs her mouth full of tangerine chicken. I take that as a yes and dig into my own container of beef chow Mein .
Dax
“Hell that felt good,” I exclaim as Adam, Gavin, Hawke and I head out of Ross’ office.
“About time, yeah?” Adam punches my arm, grinning like a fool.
Gavin glances around with a nervous tic as we exit the lifts and cross the enormous lobby of our new record label.
“You alright, mate?” I ask, watching as his bloodshot eyes dart back and forth suspiciously.
“I’m fine,” he snaps. Dismissing me completely .
Hawke grimaces at Gavin’s back but keeps his thoughts to himself. Adam is going on and on about our new label and how great it will be to have more creative control.
Me? All I care about is the fact that I won’t have to deal with Lila fucking Griffin and her mountain of bullshit anymore.
Gavin’s Range Rover is waiting for us out front. Ross’ secretary must have called to have it brought around. Outside, it’s a real scorcher, even for L.A. in July. Hot enough to roast your bollocks if you stay in the sun too long.
Gavin hurries around the front of the SUV and jumps in, slouching down behind the wheel.
“What’s up with him?” I nudge Hawke’s arm and point towards Gavin with my chin.
“Oh, nothing. It’s probably the heat, that’s all.” Hawke opens the passenger door and climbs in next to Gavin.
“Okaaay,” I say to myself.
When I climb into the back seat, I turn expecting Adam to be following me, but I’m alone. I look outside and realize he’s made a few new friends. A group of girls has him surrounded, smiling and taking selfies with their phones. Adam is grinning, playing along and signing whatever scraps of paper they come up with.
“Fucking asshole. Always gets the girls,” Hawke mutters.
“Oh fuck off,” I say lightly. “You get so much pussy you’re buried in it.”
That’s no lie. Women really really like Hawke and his tattooed, skater boy look. Hell, they like all of us, although Adam gets the most attention by far.
He makes it look so easy. You’d never know by his public behavior how miserable the bloke is. Adam’s only sober this morning because we had a meeting with the executives for our new label and if he fucked it up for us, we’d have killed him. Inside that tortured mind of his, I’m certain he’s counting the minutes until he can get his hands on his next drink.
Adam waves, expertly extracting himself from the groping hands. “Thanks ladies. Cheers!”
He climbs into the seat next to mine, grinning like an idiot.
“Can we go now, your highness? Or is your fan club still needing your service?” I ask, pointing at the now very large group of girls he’s left squealing on the sidewalk to take pictures of the SUV.
Before Adam can answer, Gavin slams down on the gas, rocketing the massive vehicle out into traffic. A loud horn sounds as the squeal of breaks echoes up and down the street.
“Jesus, Gav, watch it!” Hawke yells from the front seat. “Fuck! That car almost hit us.”
Hawke is freaking out over the near miss, hurling a slew of insults at his best friend. Gavin mumbles an apology under his breath, which only causes Hawke’s face to darken with fury.
Adam and I exchange glances, but stay silent. Gavin’s been off lately. Edgy, nervous, like a rabbit being stalked by a fox. He looks like something you’d find in the bottom of your bin, not the posh, well-dressed man I’m used to seeing.
Hell, between the four of us, you’d think at least one of us could be a normal, functioning member of society. But no, we’re all equally fucked in the head, it seems.
Bloody brilliant.
Gavin drops us off at Hawke’s place, a nice house he bought up in the hills. We decided to grab a bite to eat and Gavin begged off, saying he had something to do. He tore out of the driveway so fast I’m wondering if he’s stable enough to be behind the wheel.
Whatever is bothering Gavin, that near accident made Hawke shoot him a look so dark, you’d think Gavin went and dropped a clanger on his living room carpet.
“That was strange,” Adam quips, before heading straight for Hawke’s liquor cabinet.
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. Telling Adam not to drink does absolutely nothing. If anything, it makes him more determined , even if he does appreciate our concern. Banging my head against a wall isn’t something I enjoy.
“Let it go,” I tell Adam, though it’s more for Hawke’s sake. “If Gavin has something he wants to discuss with us, he will.”
Hawke laughs, “Yeah, because we’re all the type to sit down and have a sharing of feelings moment.”
“Fuck off, Evans.” I flip him the finger, American style, and smile.
Hawke and I set to making lunch, or in this case, pulling out food Hawke’s housekeeper has stocked in his fridge. Adam plops down on the sofa with his drink, singing along with the XM channel he selected.
Miley Cyrus, wonderful.
I glance at Hawke and catch his eye. “We need to hurry,” I whisper. I have to get him back to the hotel before he’s too pissed to move.”
Hawke nods. “I have plans later. I can’t babysit his ass tonight, but he can crash here if he has to.”
“It’s your call, mate.”
Hawke’s dealt with drunk Adam before. Hell, we all have. He shrugs and I take that as a yes.
“Right then. I’ll eat then call a cab so you don’t have to drive me back to the hotel. It’s only a few minutes away.”
He agrees and we dig in , serenaded by international rock star Adam Reynolds as he belts his way through an impressive rendition of Wrecking Ball.
Fuck, if the public only knew.
An hour and a half later, I collapse onto one of the leather recliners in my hotel suite, new contract in hand.
No more Lila.
I close my eyes, trying to imagine how great it will be to work and go on tour and not have to deal with her. No more of that stupid bloody show of hers, either. Thank god for that. I’ve avoided her as much as possible, but she still catches me with those damn cameras now and then. When she does, I try to curse a lot so the footage will be useless.
I chuckle at the thought, my eyes still closed.
A sharp rap on my door breaks my little fantasy.
Hell, it better not be Adam. I’d be shocked if Hawke brought him home already. We both live in the Chateau Marmont. Each of us for similar reasons. Neither of us particularly cares for L.A. and neither of us wants to settle down in a house alone. That would be admitting that we’ll never get our girls back.
Pathetic? Maybe. I can’t be bothered to give a shit.
Stupidly, I yank open the door without checking who it is and find myself face to face with Lila Griffin, surprisingly without her camera entourage.
“What the fuck do you want, Lila,” I growl, feeling the hostility heat the blood in my veins like a match to gasoline.
“Why yes. I’d love to come in,” she says acerbically, shoving past me into the suite.
I slam the door a little, okay maybe a lot, too loudly. “Why are you here, Lila?” I cross my arms over my chest and give her my most intimidating stare.
She stands her ground. I’m impresse
d. She’s either brave or stupid. “You think you’ve gotten rid of me?” she snaps out. “You haven’t. Not by a long shot. I’ll make you sorry that you left my dad… that you left me.”
So she knows we’ve jumped ship from her dad’s record label. “Like I give a fuck what you do.” I stalk over to where she’s standing, hands on her hips and a hideous, twisted grimace on her face.
Towering over her, I make myself perfectly clear. “Get out. Don’t ever come back. If you do, I’ll make your life a living hell. Daddy isn’t going to be there to control me anymore so you’d better hope I never see you again.”
Lila’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She quickly contains her reaction, her mouth spreading into a flat evil grin. “You fucked up, Dax. You could have had it all. My dad’s power and influence, my show to make you a household name, me . Now I’ll make sure you know what it feels like to be fucked over.”
Who the hell does she think she is? She’s a bloody nutter.
“Leave. Now.” I walk back over to the foyer and open the door. “Or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
Lila does as I ask, swinging her hips as she teeters on those ridiculous heels of hers. I step back when she attempts to touch my chest as she walks by, her hand swiping nothing but air.
That smug smile of hers disappears. “See you soon, Daxey.” Then she walks out the door.
And out of my life.
I haven’t felt this good since… let’s just say it’s been a long time.
Kate
“Let’s go out!”
“Abby, I’m knackered. I don’t want to go out,” I whine.
My flatmate comes into the lounge and frowns. “You’re leaving in two days. I’m not going to see you in forever. You need to get up and do something with me. We’re going out and you’re not saying no.”
“Ugh!”
“Quit moping. For someone who’s about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime, you’re not excited enough and we’re fixing that tonight.” Abby is serious, crossing her arms and staring down at me.
“But Abby, I’m about to go through brutal training. I’m trying to catch up on my sleep before I go.” The whinging sound of my voice doesn’t escape me.
She makes a dismissive noise. “Whatever. This is our last chance, sister. You’ve slept enough for the next four months. C’mon. Get showered and dressed. You look awful.”
Abby grabs my hands and pulls me up off the sofa. “I’m going through a rough patch, Abby. You’re not a nice friend. You should be spoiling me while you have the chance. Let me eat ice cream and watch the telly all day.” I stick my lip out, pouting. Not that she knows the extent of my troubles. All she knows is that Logan and I broke up, she doesn’t know how badly he reacted.
Is every bloke a complete and total bastard?
“You can’t eat ice cream and watch T.V. all day, you’re an Olympic athlete. You need to be in peak form. Now it’s time to party. You broke up with a boyfriend who you say you didn’t think you loved and had been acting like an ass so there’s no point in moping. No more excuses. Go get ready.”
She shoves me bodily into the bathroom and pulls the door shut behind me. Damn, she’s stronger than she looks. And with her psychology degree, she’s always analyzing my moods. It’s like I can’t have a bad day without her wanting to dive into why I’m sad and what happened to cause it.
Okay, so maybe I’ve had a lot of bad days over the last few years, but Christ, I’ve only just begun to stop obsessing over everything—Wes, Logan, my career, Dax. The last thing I need is Abby trying to crack into my head.
It’s not like she hasn’t been hiding something herself. Dodgy phone calls and unexplained absences. The only reason I don’t ask is because I don’t want her to turn the tables on me. And I’m afraid it might have something to do with Hawke, and that hits a little too close to home.
“I hate you!” I call out to the closed door as I strip and get into the shower.
“You love me!” she yells back.
Yeah, I do. Once I leave and don’t have her there to keep me sane, I have no idea what I’ll do.
“Admit it, this is fun,” Abby says loudly over the pulsing music of the club.
“It is,” I agree. Abby decided we needed to dance, so she dragged me out to Phoenix, a popular club off Wilshire Boulevard.
“Another?” she asks, pointing at her empty glass. I look down and see that mine is empty as well.
I shrug. “Sure! But two is my limit.” No way will I ever end up drunk again.
By the time we maneuver through the thick crowd to the bar and back over to the dance floor, we’re both feeling the effects of the potent cocktails. Grinning, we spin around, swaying to the thumping bass. People our age surround us, all looking to get lost in the music.
I’m about to tell Abby that she’s brilliant and this was a great idea when suddenly there’s a commotion on the other side of the dance floor. Two bright spotlights stand out in the dim lighting of the massive room, creating a halo of light that appears to be following someone through the crowd.
“Cameras,” Abby shouts in my ear. She takes one last look before continuing to dance. “It’s Hollywood, I guess it’s no surprise.”
I nod, agreeing completely, yet not comfortable enough to lose myself again. My last encounter with cameras was that horrific day at UCLA during our final game of the season. Dax went crazy, punched a couple of security guards, and ended up arrested.
Then he broke up with me.
The bright lights come closer to where we’re dancing. Well, Abby is dancing. I’m standing paralyzed—watching the cameras move towards us while an ominous feeling takes root in my stomach, gnawing and tearing at my insides. The group comes within view and the bottom drops out.
“Is that—?” Abby has stopped dancing again and is standing next to me as the horror plays out.
“Lila,” I choke out. “Yes.”
Lila Griffin and her reality show crew in the flesh. I haven’t seen her since the day Dax helped me move out of our dorm room.
Now she’s with Dax. At least, I think she is. He hasn’t been on her show lately, not that I would watch that drivel. I’ve been told he’s not been on recently. Okay fine, I might read the summaries on a gossip site. It’s not a big deal. Everyone does it.
Not everyone has shagged the man in question, however.
“Don’t let her get to you,” Abby says, her arm sliding over my shoulders like a security blanket.
“I’m fine,” I say so unconvincingly that I know Abby doesn’t believe a single word.
“Let’s go. I’m pretty tired.” Abby reaches for my hand, but I can’t move. I can’t do anything. All I can do is think about Dax’s hands being all over Lila’s body. Despair hits me like a freight train, fast and hard. Seeing her here brings back every feeling I’ve tried to deny for the last four damn years.
Jealousy, hurt, betrayal, sorrow, anger… and worst of all, I feel completely and totally inadequate. Olympics or no, I’ll never compare to Lila.
“Oh my god! Kate?”
No. No, no, no.
“Kate,” Abby hisses, “let’s get out of here.” She tugs harder on my hand. I must be a sadist because I don’t move an inch.
Suddenly, the small circle of lights grows to include Abby and me. I’m face to face with Lila Griffin, my slutty first-year flatmate from hell and current girlfriend to my soul mate.
“It is you!” Lila spreads her arms and pulls me into what has to be the most insincere hug I’ve ever experienced. She steps back, that familiar evil spark in her eyes. “It’s been so long. How are you?”
The dark lens of a camera is less than three feet from my face. The reality of my situation smacks me over the head.
I’m being filmed for Lila’s show. The show she has with her boyfriend Dax. He’s going to see this.
“Ummmm, I’m great. Brilliant. It’s good to see you.” I glance over at Abby who seems to be itching to slap Lila right acros
s her smug face if the scowl she’s sporting means anything.
“That’s so awesome! I can’t believe you’re here! I figured you’d have left L.A. by now. You know, to go back to that little town you grew up in.”
Nice dig on my poor upbringing. “No. I’m still here—”
“Great!” She interrupts me before I can tell her what I really think of her or how I made the Olympic footy team. “Well, I gotta run. Daxey is waiting for me.”
My mouth falls open as Lila leans in to air kiss both of my cheeks. Before I know it, she’s gone, her bizarre little entourage trailing behind.
“I hate her so much,” Abby says.
Me? I’m speechless. There is literally nothing I can say to make anything that just happened seem less humiliating than it is. Dax will see that. He’ll think I’m a total failure. A pathetic waste of space.
They’ll probably watch it together and have a laugh.
Abby manages to maneuver me outside and into a cab before the tears start pouring down my face.
CHAPTER 17
Dax
“When did this take place?” I bark into my mobile, my breath coming out in misty puffs.
“Dax, are you coming inside?” My mum is staring at me from the door of the conservatory with a concerned expression on her face. Her arms are wrapped around her middle to stave off the bitter cold.
“Hold on.” I cover the mouthpiece of my mobile. “Mum, you go on in. I’m buying it for you and dad. It only matters if you two like the house, not me.”
She nods, but the knot between her brows lets me know she’s not happy. I rub my forehead, the stress so overwhelming I’m on the verge of losing my mind.
“Zane,” I bark at my assistant. I hired the eager kid from the gym in L.A. “When was the bloody thing filmed?” The urge to chuck my mobile into the fancy koi pond is nearly overwhelming. He’s a great assistant, has been for a few years now. Unfortunately, he does take the brunt of my frustrations.
Strike: Dax Page 21
