Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1)

by RB Hilliard

  While Soundgarden’s Rusty Cage played in the background, Rowan and I floated aimlessly on our rafts and discussed the differences between living in Ireland and America. A loud banging noise startled us and we turned to see three extremely hot men in their swim trunks as they erupted from a downstairs door. The second they saw us they started running for the pool. Whoops and shouts were followed by a series of cannonballs and the next thing I knew I was under my raft instead of on top. When I came up for air, Grant had confiscated my raft, Nash was wrestling Rowan for hers and Hank was standing on the sidelines laughing like a goof. With an evil grin on my face, I splashed water all over him, which resulted in him exacting payback in the form of a serious game of splash and dunk.

  The five of us spent the next few hours horsing around. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun. When Nash and Grant went in to practice, Hank, Rowan and I floated on floats while Hank regaled us with funny Meltdown stories.

  That night Ava made spaghetti. After dinner, we said our goodbyes to Rowan, and Nash drove her home. I made a mental note to grill Nash about her later. Ava took off shortly after Nash and Hank conveniently disappeared into one of the downstairs bedrooms.

  As Grant and I settled back on the sofa, I watched him take a sip of his beer and contemplated how to approach what had been on my mind all day. Finally, I just went for it. “This morning’s trip with Nash and Hank wasn’t about a guitar, was it?” I felt his body tense right before he launched into a coughing fit.

  After giving him a few hearty back slaps, he said, “What are you, a fucking mind reader?”

  “No, but I can tell when you’re lying.” With a scowl and a huff, he told me about the trip to Brenham and what they found when they got there.

  Shock followed by hurt and then anger seared through me. “Why didn’t you wake me? I thought we were in this together.”

  “We didn’t know what we were going to find. Not only that, but you’ve already risked so much,” he answered. I could tell by his expression that he was uncomfortable. Good, I hope he was. He should have included me.

  “We’re in this together,” I repeated.

  “We are, and I promise to keep you updated on everything that happens, but I’m not going to let you compromise your job any longer.”

  I heard what he was saying and even understood why he was saying it, but I disagreed. “It’s my job to compromise, not yours,” I argued.

  “Yes, and it’s a job you’ve worked your ass off for and would like to keep, right?”

  He had a point. “Well, yes, but –”

  “Then let me help you keep it.” He ran his hands through my hair and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “I’m not cutting you out. I’m simply protecting you from any backlash, okay?” God, but he was sweet. I let out a loud sigh and he knew he had me.

  “So, she’s dead,” I stated.

  He dropped his head back onto the sofa and sighed. “It was awful.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Grant lifted his head and, as I stared into his eyes, I could tell we were thinking the same thing. “Was it a suicide?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He then told me they’d spoken with Chaz and Luke on the way back from Brenham and all four agreed to table all talk of what happened in Houston until after New York. I agreed whole heartedly with their decision.

  We sat there for a long time staring out into the night. Not able to stand the silence any longer, I whispered, “I’m scared.”

  “Me too,” Grant said. He wrapped his arms around me and the reality of the situation sank in. Sarah was our link to the person who tried to hurt Grant and now she was dead. Where did we go from here?

  * * *

  New York

  The flight to New York was a quiet one. The disappointment of Sarah’s death was weighing heavily on us all, but especially on Grant. Hank told us he’d spoken with Cas and, as of this moment, the police were calling Sarah’s death an accidental overdose. At least one positive came from her death. Grant finally decided to hire Cas’s firm, LASH, to conduct a covert investigation in order to see if they could be more successful than we’d been in finding out who drugged Grant and why. I wasn’t sure what they would do, but it wouldn’t be hard to have more luck than we’d had and at least now there was finally someone professional looking into it on a consistent basis.

  Grant warned me that New York was going to be crazy, but I had no idea what he was talking about. That is, until we pulled onto the street where our hotel was located and I saw a giant crowd of people milling about. Whistles blew as policemen attempted to corral the fans.

  As Hank rolled down his window to speak with a policeman, someone spotted Grant in the back seat.

  “Grant! I see Grant!” they shouted, and the crowd went ballistic.

  “Who else is with him?” another person called out.

  The car was suddenly surrounded by shrieking fans. Faces pressed against the windows and all I could think was, thank goodness the windows are tinted. While the police tried to regain control of the crowd, we slowly moved down the crowded street toward the front of our hotel. Hands slapped the side of the car as people cheered us on.

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  “Welcome to New York,” Grant said.

  Nash, who was sitting in the front seat, let out a hoot of excitement. He jerked his head around to look at Grant. “Do you see this? It’s fucking amazing. This is what we’ve been waiting for, bro. This is our moment.” Nash raised his fist. Grant’s face broke into an earsplitting grin and he responded by slamming his fist into Nash’s. They seemed thrilled. I was not. I was scared out of my mind.

  Screams, camera flashes and police whistles were accompanied by Hank’s explicit instructions. “In three minutes our team will be in place. Nash, I want you to crawl into the back seat. When I give the go ahead, Grant’s door will open and everyone will slide out. Our team, as well as a police escort, will usher you into the hotel. The lobby has been cleared for the next fifteen minutes. You have approximately half an hour to get settled in your suites before you’re due in the downstairs conference room for an all hands meeting.” My eyes shot to Grant, but he was busy staring at the crowd. I wondered if Kirkland would be there.

  Suddenly Grant’s door swung open. I had just enough time to snag my purse before Grant latched onto my hand and pulled me out of the car. The second my feet hit the pavement pandemonium erupted.

  “Grant! Are you going to sing your new song tonight?”

  “Grant, who’s that with you?”

  “I want to have your babies, Grant!”

  A loud cheer exploded from behind us and I glanced back over my shoulder to see Nash waving at the crowd. Thank goodness we were flanked on all sides by security and police. Otherwise it would be a total free-for-all. I thought I’d seen it all, when in truth, I hadn’t seen anything compared to this. Something landed on my head right as we stepped through the hotel doors. I could tell it was a piece of clothing and quickly tried to get it off, but it was stuck on my bun. Nash stepped up behind me and let out a bark of laughter as he extracted the object from my hair.

  “I like the color green on you,” he drawled as he held up a lime green G-string.

  “I need a shower,” I announced.

  “Babe,” was Grant’s one word response.

  “Seriously, some…woman just flung her G-string in my hair,” I hissed.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Grant flippantly responded. Nash and Sampson laughed. I failed to see the humor.

  Sampson escorted us to the elevator. Right as we were stepping in, Nash saw someone he recognized. “I’ll see you in a few,” he said and quickly exited.

  As the elevator doors closed, Sampson dipped his head and spoke into his earpiece, “Nash is on the loose in the lobby. I need you to get a bead on him.” Once he had confirmation that someone had Nash covered, he hit the button and up we went.

  While Grant and Sampson discuss
ed numbers and security for his parents, I thought about the scalding hot shower I was going to take in order to wash the panty juice out of my hair.

  Once we reached the hotel room, we paused for Sampson to swipe the keycard and open the door for us. “Miss Scott, this is your room,” he announced.

  “What the fuck?” Grant asked, as we stepped into an exceptionally small room. “I thought you said it was a suite?” Sampson looked uncomfortable.

  “You have a suite…two floors up,” he clarified.

  “The fuck I do,” Grant said. I watched as he pulled his phone from his back pocket and punched in some numbers. “You want to explain why Mallory’s in some shoebox room two floors down from me?” he asked the person on the other end. From the look on his face I could tell he didn’t like the answer. “Fuck you, Blane,” he said, and hung up. He turned to me and said, “Kirkland’s people took care of the reservations. Blane’s held up and won’t be here until after the show tonight.”

  My heart sank. “This room is fine,” I directed at Sampson.

  “The hell it is. Pack your things, you’re heading upstairs with me,” Grant ordered.

  Before doing his bidding like a good little soldier I asked Sampson who all was sharing the upstairs suite with Grant. When he told me the entire band as well as part of the security team, I made an easy decision. I was not staying in a suite with six men.

  I could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that Grant knew what I was going to say, but I said it anyway. “Honestly, I’m good here, Grant.” Before I could say another word he was across the room and out the door. Sampson shot me an apologetic look before following after. “Well, that went well,” I announced to the empty room.

  After a quick shower and blow dry, both of which I spent thinking about how I should have just sucked it up and gone with Grant, I pulled out my makeup bag. Grant was clearly stressed enough as it was. The last thing he needed was me making it worse. Finally, not able to stand it any longer, I marched over to the bed where my phone was sitting. As I picked it up to call Grant, I noticed a missed text from him.

  I’m sorry I was a dick. I promise to make it up to you later. XX

  After I shot off a quick reply, I resumed putting on my makeup. As I was putting on the finishing touches, my phone rang.

  Assuming it was Grant who was calling, I hit send and said, “That was fast.”

  “Hey Mallory, it’s Hank. Grant wanted me to touch base with you and let you know that Kirkland has Meltdown in a press conference right now. After that they’re heading to a meet and greet and then to the venue to practice before the show. Sampson, Marcel and I are with the boys. Sean is going to drive you over with Grant’s parents.”

  “His parents?” I squeaked.

  “Yeah, Grant wanted to introduce you himself, but it looks like that’s a no go. You need to be down in the lobby in an hour. Sean will meet you there and shuttle you all to the show. Hold on a moment, please.” After a brief pause he came back on and said he had to go before abruptly hanging up. I was going to meet Grant’s parents without Grant. Fear bolted through me. What if they hate me?

  Pushing the thought from my mind, I pulled myself together and finished getting ready. In an attempt to make Grant happy, I left my hair down. A cute but conservative look would go well with his parents, so I paired black lace shorts with a sleeveless white blouse. I finished it off with a pair of black wedge sandals and silver jewelry. Once I was ready, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and said out loud, “You can do this. You want this, Mallory, so don’t screw it up.” With a nod of my head, I went to meet Grant’s parents.

  I spotted his mother as soon as I hit the lobby. Not only was their coloring the same, but Grant had her cheekbones and dark hair. From the front she looked like she was sporting a beehive. As she turned to address the man standing next to her, I nearly swallowed my tongue. The back of her hair was swept up into an elaborate looking bun. Grant’s father smiled when he noticed me walking toward them. He had light hair and a fair complexion, but his eyes and smile were one hundred percent Grant’s.

  “Ah, here’s Mallory now,” Sean announced. I could tell that Grant’s mother hated me at first sight. She made all the right moves and said all the correct things, but I could see it in her eyes. The woman hated me. Luckily, Sean got us to the car without incident. On the drive over Grant’s mother drilled me for information.

  “Where do you live, Mallory?”

  “I live in Dallas.”

  “I don’t detect a Texas accent.”

  “Oh, I’m not from Texas. I’m from New York.”

  “That explains a lot,” I could have sworn I heard her mutter, but since her head was facing the window I wasn’t sure. A few second passed before she continued, “So, what is it you do for a living?”

  Grant and I briefly discussed what to say if his parent’s asked this particular question. “I’m a counselor,” I told her.

  Her eyes lit up. “You’re a guidance counselor?” I opened my mouth to correct her, but she beat me to the punch. “Did you hear that, Erwin? Mallory is a guidance counselor!” she shouted, and I almost choked on my spit. Erwin? “Are you in the private or public school system? I promise not to judge if you say the public. Lord knows they need all the help they can get.” I’m never wearing my hair in a bun again, I thought. She launched into a dissertation about the horrors of the school systems of today while I pretended interest. In reality, I had no clue what she was talking about.

  Sean finally announced, “We’re here!” I fought back a shriek of delight. My heart sank when he added, “We need to wait for Hank and Sampson before –”

  “Oh for Heaven’s sake, I’m a grown woman,” Grant’s mother cut in. Then she swung open the door and was out like a flash. I really wanted to like Grant’s parents, I really did, but my gosh, his mother was… I shook my head. I honestly had no words for what she was.

  “Melba, wait!” Grant’s dad shouted. The next thing I knew he was out the door and hauling after her.

  “Shit!” Sean exclaimed. “Hold tight,” he said, as he flung open his car door and took off after the duo.

  “Melba?” I whispered, and burst into howls of laughter. I stopped laughing long enough to unlock the door for Hank. The moment he pulled it open and I saw the confused look on his face, I started laughing again.

  “Shoot me,” he said, which only made me laugh harder.

  “She hates me,” I said through my laughter.

  “Join the party,” he muttered.

  I felt tears prick the backs of my eyes. “I’m serious, Hank. That woman hates me.”

  “I mean it, join the party,” he repeated. Cameras flashed and he wrapped his fingers around my elbow and said, “Head down and don’t say a word.” As I stared at our feet the shouts started pouring from the crowd.

  “Is that Grant’s girlfriend?”

  “Mallory, look over here!”

  “Grant Hardy is mine!”

  “All clear,” Hank said, once we were inside. Hearing people address me by name was slightly disconcerting. I started thinking about the press and photos and what to tell CiCilia. Hank cut through my panic when he said, “Grant wants to see you before the show. I’ll take you to him now.” He steered me down a long hallway and into a very noisy, crowd-filled room. I scanned the room and found Grant standing in the back right corner with his parents. Women surrounded the threesome like hungry vultures, but every time one tried to approach, Grant’s mother flashed her eyes at them and they quickly changed their minds. Smart girls. Nash and Chaz were in the middle of a crowd signing autographs. On my way back to Grant, I saw Kirkland talking to a group of people. I made sure to avoid eye contact as I passed by him. Grant’s mother was talking animatedly to the group and I didn’t want to interrupt. So, I quietly stepped up beside Grant, plastered a big fake smile on my face and pretended interest. His mother took one look at me and, in mid-sentence, stopped talking. All eyes turned to me and I froze.

 
; “Uhhhh, I’m sorry. How about I go find Nash and let you three catch up,” I stammered.

  Grant smiled and wrapped his arm around me. “Don’t be silly. I was just telling Mom and Dad about how much fun we had at the house.” Grant’s dad smiled at me. His mom did not. That is, until Grant glanced her way. Then she was all smiles. Melba was a tricky woman. After several interruptions from fans wanting Grant’s signature, the band was called to the stage. This meant it was time for Grant to go. This also meant I was going to be left with his parents again.

  As Grant stared deep into my eyes, I prayed he couldn’t tell what I was thinking. “You good?” he whispered.

  “I’m good,” I lied.

  “I’m sorry I walked out on you earlier. I want you with me.”

  “I know.”

  “My room later?” he asked.

  I smiled. “Make it mine and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Grant dipped his head and laid a hot, heavy one on me, tongue and all. I heard his mother huff and his father shush her. He pulled away and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. Then he smiled at his parent’s, said, “See you after the show,” and was gone.

  “Break a leg, Granty!” his mother yelled after him, and I tried not to cringe.

  Once the guys were gone, the room began clearing out as people made their way toward the stage. I turned to follow and, with a loud, “Umph,” ran straight into Kirkland. He had a look in his eyes I couldn’t quite place, but I knew I didn’t like it. I was trapped. He knew it and I knew it.

  Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked.

  Plastering a fake smile on my face, I said, “Kirkland Hamilton, meet Grant’s parents…Erwin and Melba Hardy. Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, this is Kirkland Hamilton, president of Happenstance,” I introduced. They all shook hands.

  Right as I turned to leave, Kirkland struck. “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it down after Grant’s accident. Thank goodness Mallory was available to step in and save the day. I don’t know what we would have done without her,” he told Grant’s parents. My jaw hit the floor.