Love Struck Bad Boys - 3 Novel Box Set

by Amber Burns

  Lucky for me I also didn’t run into Custodio. I had a few choice words to say to him, but a last-minute business affair took him out of the city for the night with promises to return for Lola’s birthday.

  Now here I am, dragging my lazy, tired ass to the adjoining bathroom in my room. Considering I’d only slept in their a couple times before calling Astra’s home for the rest, a lot of things jumped out at me. The soft yellow walls, the two small scenery paintings lined up above the toilet, the flowery-scented air freshener, the black granite sink, and the lighting paneled atop the sink mirror.

  It’s pretty.

  Quaint.

  But it isn’t anything like Astra’s place. It isn’t Astra’s.

  “God, you idiot,” I grumble, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes and trying to get a grip on my pounding temples. It feels like a jackhammer – no, a rock concert is going on up there. Hurling is an option, calling in sick isn’t.

  The Saturday morning of Lola’s party and one-third of Tense Finger decides to plug the concert would make headlines surely, both here in OC and L.A.

  I drop my hands and get a good look at what I’m working with and I’m prepared to snap them shut again, walk right to bed, call the guys and let them know I’m so out.

  “Fuck,” sums it up. My eyes, bloodshot and outlined by dark bags, blink blearily back at me. My hair is standing on end, some of the dark ends curled, others in mid-Afro mode. Dark stubble lines my jaw and, breathing into my hand, I get a grip on my gag reflexes: Surprise! My breath reeks.

  Here’s what I gather from my rumpled tee shirt and sweats that could use a washing machine, and that’s that I look ready for nothing, let alone entertaining a bunch of partying teens and their adult chaperones.

  I don’t need to meet with the guys, but I’m too wired to sleep still. I end up showering and changing, and when I decide I look more like a normal human being, I set off to the Lopez residence – praying to avoid TzaTza and Custodio as I had yesterday.

  My luck runs out as I run into TzaTza and Lola in the foyer, mother and daughter heading out for their salon trip.

  “Ryker,” TzaTza retreats after breezing kisses over my cheeks twice. I hate the way her cat-like eyes draw into thinner slits and rake over me. She isn’t undressing me, more like sizing me up.

  Since I hadn’t seen her since the dinner, I figure she’s curious of the aftermath. Sure enough, following a lengthy pause for her up-down survey, she says silkily, “Custodio isn’t here yet. His flight is due in another five hours.”

  Lola is a bit more affectionate than her mother, also way more vocal. “Uncle Ry!” she loops her arms around my middle and I hug her, hand passing over her shiny, straight black hair. “Jesse and Dan were telling me over breakfast that they’re going to play a song from your new CD, and that would be the first to hear it.”

  I smile and nod, wishing I could muster up more energy to match her enthusiasm. But four or so hours of sleep sort of drain a guy from doing much.

  “That’s generous of you all.” TzaTza says.

  Generous? Not exactly.

  Jesse had thought of the idea and cleared it with us, and then we’d only managed to do that with the blessing of our producer and the other higher-ups at the company.

  Everyone happened to agree it’d be a great promotional tool.

  So not generous, more fortuitous for both our parties: Lola can ‘wow’ her friends and we can get a relatively cheap way to market our goods. Considering this is to be our last CD for a while, going out with a bang seemed a tall order, one the guys and I are ready to fill.

  TzaTza, Lola and I part for now, they are off to make their appointment and I’m heading to the studio further back in the house.

  Jesse and Dan are not alone.

  Holly is wrapped in Jesse’s embrace behind the drums. “It’s pretty simple. Just count, one and two and three and four and,” he shows her the technique, adjusting her wrists and then covering her hands over his drumsticks, playing the quarter measure out with her.

  As I’m wondering how our uptight friend got her in his lap, Dan notices me. His glower turns to a grin and he waves me over.

  “Buddy,” he bumps my fist and strums his bass. “What the hell took you so long?”

  “You’re early,” is all Jesse says, but he’s smiling like Holly before the former goes back to instruct his pupil.

  “I thought a little last-minute practice couldn’t kill me.”

  “Yeah,” Dan belts out a riff, his finger slide at its best – just what we need for tonight. It makes me more confident, gives me that much of a reason to unbox my Gibson and lift the strap over my shoulders.

  I stroke the black, triangular body, my fingers falling away at bottom before slapping over the bottom strings. “You and me?”

  Dan shrugs, his frown returning on tossing a glance back at Jesse and Holly, the two in their little bubble.

  I start strumming, Dan joining in when I open with lyrics. It’s the new song Lola mentioned; the one that originated in my home-built studio and the one that hasn’t left Custodio’s either. Yet.

  Normally we’d have Jesse in the back, but he’s occupied...or at least he was. He joins in and I swivel on a pause from the lyrics to see Holly standing to the side, turning her smile on the lot of us.

  “Dreaming on and breaking every bone, cruel ivory or sweet ebony,” I sing, holding the note and turning my head to finger-crawl a finish over the range of the strings.

  Jesse’s cymbals crash close and I bow my head, catching my breath from the moment.

  Holly’s clapping registers late. I lift my head slowly and adjust the mic, kicking at the strings under my boots and checking the cord connection to the bass.

  “You liked that?” Dan’s asking, sounding much happier with Holly at his side. He’s pulling his head through his bass’s strap and hauling it over Holly. “You’re a little short, but here,” he tucks behind her and maneuvering her hands has her in a passable position to play.

  “Oh,” her shock brings a sardonic smile to my face, my pushing out the scene to the memory of Astra’s surprise at my love confession. And then she all but slammed her front door in my face.

  “Yo.” Jesse taps me with his drumsticks, his other hand shoved in the pockets of his jeans. “What’s up with the face?”

  I subconsciously massage my face.

  “Not literally,” Jesse smiles, but it slips at my heavy sigh and dropping hand. I run my hands over the string and then slap my fingers to shut the chord up.

  “It’s – ” I cut myself off from saying, nothing. It’s not nothing. Far from it, in fact. I love Astra, but it’s clear she doesn’t feel the same and now I’m seconds away from doing the thing I love most, playing my music, and all I can think about is...her.

  As it’s a Saturday, she’d be home right now, but is she alright since I last saw her two days ago? Is she eating lunch in bed like we used to, and what is she wearing?

  “It’s Astra,” I say. Once it’s out, it doesn’t feel as disastrous. Jesse nods, folding his arms. Realizing he’s waiting for me to elaborate before he weighs in on the friendly advice, I gather the courage and relive what’s becoming a bit of a nightmarish hang-up: Astra’s rejection.

  “That’s it. What the fuck am I supposed to do with her ‘good night’?”

  “Did you try knocking on the door? I mean, after that night.” Jesse says.

  Hitching up my shoulders, both hands covering the face of my guitar, I mumble, “No.”

  “And you said you loved, excuse me, love her?”

  I’m starting to see what he’s getting at, not that it lightens my mood. Standing in the eye of the shit-storm called A One-sided Love I’m not exactly ready to man up and concede that’s the right thing to do.

  But I’m warming to the idea of going back to Astra, cornering her and getting this off my chest before we leave for L.A. Sunday after Lola’s party.

  “Say I do go in there, and I tell her again, m
ore rationally, what if she slams the door in my face again?” at the thought, my chest tightens, mind blanking on the one thought, and my hands squeeze into fists in response.

  Jesse takes my babbling into stride though. “That’s totally a possibility. It’s a two-way street, after all, and she’s free to decide she doesn’t want your ass as her property.” He unfolds his arms and pokes both of his drumsticks into my chest.

  I brush them off only to have him replace it there. “Have to ask yourself what counts more for you, this girl in your life or the potential of your heart kicked and handed to you all bloody for trying?”

  Hard words. Tough love. It’s what I need to hear.

  What I need to weigh.

  Holly and Dan join us quietly – much too quietly for me to vet my confessional with Jesse in time, like I want anyone else to hear my heartbreak and moping.

  “I knew it! I so knew it,” Dan grins, his clap on the shoulder taking me by surprise. “She’s hot, man.”

  “She’s my friend.” Holly stresses, and her smile is peppy and positive despite the tone. Dan scratches the back of his head and abashedly apologizes. That’s a first. “And she’s not a piece of meat, Ryker McBride. If you hurt her, I’ll make sure to ruin your life.”

  “What is this, the warning from the friend?” I frown, not in the mood to be scolded or threatened by anyone right then.

  “Damn straight,” she settles her hands over her hips. “Lose the attitude. You aren’t going to win points with anyone, least of all Astra with that ugly mood.”

  I bark a laugh, snapping, “I’m way past the brownie points, so that doesn’t scare me.”

  “But Astra’s rejecting you does?” Holly jumps on my silence as an affirmative – which it is, and in a blink she’s smiling. “There’s hope for you yet, Ryker.”

  I’d be lying if I said I’m intrigued. Try drooling, salivating at whatever will help me win Astra over, prove to her I’m not dicking around about us being something strong...maybe forever-kinda strong, and if she could look past my weaknesses I’ll dedicate her happiness to my every breath.

  “I haven’t seen Astra in a while –”

  “Yeah. You’ve been pretty busy here.”

  Her smile widens and spreads out her hands. “Working my magic here.” Leaning in conspiratorially she adds, “This doesn’t leave the room, but this place is gorgeous. I was expecting more evil castle-slash-cave lair from the Lopezes.”

  Jesse and Dan laugh. My humor is fleeting today. I’m bobbing my head fast, trying to rush her on, and it’s not helping with my headache, cancelling the painkillers I popped before leaving.

  “I called her this morning though, on my way over, to make sure we’re still meeting at hers to change.” Her brows furrow as she continues, “But she told me that she had a guest over.

  “I heard his voice, but she didn’t tell me anymore. I was busy anyways. Liam’s still grounded and I had to leave him alone so I doubt he’s in his room, doing his homework.” She sighs, probably rallying to continue ranting but I missed most of it, hooked on the whole part about Astra entertaining a male guest.

  I swallow hard, my anger simmering quickly, boiling over when I hiss, “How the hell is that supposed to help me?”

  “Go talk to her before she moves on,” Holly says emphatically, going from pleasant to fire-cracker at the first whiff of animosity her way. “Why are you standing her chewing our heads off – be a man, tell her you care and leave it to her.”

  She sounds like Jesse.

  “I’m hearing that a lot,” I grumble, but reining in my bark. The bite I’m reserving for the asshole moving in on my woman.

  Dan punches my shoulder lightly. “Go get her, cave man.”

  “Oh, yes,” Holly jumps up, hand spread over her chest, and her grin wide, her tight bun looking like it’ll fall out from its pin if she nods any harder. “Tossing her over your shoulder and beating your chest is sexy for a lot of women. Gay men, too. But do it right.”

  I tuck my guitar away in record time and leave. Outside the studio I run into Custodio of all people.

  Guess I played longer with the guys than I thought. It sure felt like I’d been there for an instant. Oddly, the time I spent apart from Astra did not feel like an instant.

  More like a freaking eternity.

  “Good, you’re here. Let’s talk.” He says, turning and expecting me to follow. I dig in my heels.

  “I have to go. Places to be, people to talk to,” and what I mean is ‘one place to be, and one person I really need to talk to’.

  “Five minutes,” Custodio’s playing hard-ass; good thing I’m sick and tired of his crap then.

  “Two, and then I’m leaving.”

  He gives me a long look and then he nods, turning on his heels. “Then we’ll talk here since you’re so busy.”

  “What’s up?” I remind him he’s on the clock and I want this little ‘talk’ over and done with. When the fuck have we ever talked?

  I almost laugh at the thought of a normal conversation between us. More like being talked at by Custodio with…

  No more.

  He nailed his coffin of control over me with the whole marriage shit. And I have Astra to thank for that dying a quick death.

  “The Campos have delayed their flight,” he has his hands at his back, shoulders straight, his whiskers wriggling with secrets and devious plans. “I’ve also invited them to Lola’s social event.”

  My jaw locks, my annoyance at being delayed bleeding away

  Social event? Who the fuck is he kidding?

  This would be a teen party with some parents watching for any quick fingers and bottles over the punch bowl and monitoring the upstairs rooms for extracurricular hook-ups.

  “Katherina is very interested in hearing your music, and I’ve let her know you’ll be free outside of playing a brief concert.” He nods, smiling tightly like the deal is signed, sealed and stamped with a big ‘Fuck You, I Win’.

  No, fuck you, slimy asshole.

  I keep my tone neutral, forcing my hands open from the fists that more easily incline me to use them on him. “Great. But I’ll be out of commission. My girlfriend will be attending. You met her a couple nights ago. Astra Olsen, a school counsellor at St. Bernard and Justice. Lola knows her, too.”

  His smile slips, just what I wanted.

  And that’s time.

  “I have to go now,” I make to pass him, but he catches my arm. I shrug out of his hold, and now we’ve switched positions with his back facing the closed door of the studio.

  Thank God for the sound-proof, otherwise Jesse, Dan and Holly would be hearing this. Especially the next part...

  “I’m to understand Dr. Olsen doesn’t feel the same for you.”

  “From?” My eyes narrow as my thoughts zip ahead to his insinuation. I had my suspicions, but I have to hear him say it before I react.

  “She confided to my wife while the ladies were in the powder room. TzaTza was quite shocked on your behalf.”

  Like fuck she was.

  I guess I spoke that part aloud because Custodio’s shoulders shoot up to his ear and he points a finger at me. “You watch your mouth.”

  “I’m not twelve anymore.” I say, folding my arms. “Makes me old enough to swear all I want. It also makes me old enough to take whoever the fuck I want to bed. You don’t control my dick, Senor.”

  “Shut your mouth right now! You will not insult me in my own house, under my roof no less!” He doesn’t move, but he’s swaying, shuddering with his explosive, out-of-nowhere wrath. Well, not entirely out of the blue. He sure looked like he wanted to skewer me with the cutlery during dinner with the Campos.

  “You came to me, a bastard, and I make you this man standing in front of me. You and your siblings would be nowhere without my generosity.”

  “So you can swear but I can’t.” It’s a petulant accusation, but my mind’s checked out. That and I’m far from being a bastard: My dad’s just a lazy deadbeat –
sometimes I wonder if I should laud him for getting out and away from mom’s mercurial temper.

  Anyways, Custodio Lopez isn’t any better than the biological version. It’s a case of two evils, only I’m seeing dear old real dad as the lesser, phantom evil.

  “And you hardly ‘made’ me. I worked hard for this,” and then I almost immediately correct myself, “we worked hard for this, Jesse, Dan and I. And no one, least of all you, deserve to take credit for all the hours, days and nights, months and years we put into our music.”

  His face goes from mottled red to a freaky red-purple as his veins bulge around his neck. “You, you,” he splutters. “You’re just like your madre!”