Rock Bottom

by K. Webster

  We both turn when we hear the door to the parking garage open and out steps Nora.

  Nora fucking Storm.

  My lady.

  Every time I see her, I go through this. I can’t believe she’s mine.

  My eyes just about bug out of my head as I appreciate every curve of her body in her dress. The fitted, navy, knee-length dress is classy yet sexy as hell. I know my mother will approve—that’s for damn sure. Nora’s normally messy, dark locks have been swept up into a fancy, smooth, poufy, low bun. Her normally makeup-free face has been done up beautifully.

  “Goddamn, woman. You’re stunning as hell,” I praise with a smile.

  She grins and glides over to me. I pull her in for a tight squeeze and kiss her temple, careful not to mess up her hair. When we break apart, I point to her head.

  “Where’s your hurricane hair?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Do you not like my chignon?” she asks and does a little twirl to show me the back.

  Of course, my eyes fall to the way the dress hugs her ass. Fuck me, it’ll be torture to get through dinner if I get a hard-on every time I look at her.

  “I love it,” I beam, my eyes still on her ass.

  “Roll up your tongue, lover boy,” Libby groans, popping me upside the head.

  I’m great at ducking and dodging everyone’s Donnie attacks. But not Libby. Libby has those crazy-ass mom reflexes.

  I open the door for Nora as we tell Libby goodbye. Once I’m inside and cruising down the strip, Nora finally speaks again.

  “Donnie, you seem nervous. Everything okay?” she asks, covering my hand, which I didn’t realize I’ve been pounding away to the beat of the song on the radio, on the gearshift.

  Shit.

  “Nah, I’m fine. It’s a blast at Mommy and Daddy’s,” I say sarcastically.

  She threads her fingers through mine. “They won’t hurt you. I won’t let them.”

  As I consider her words, my mind flips back to last year’s Christmas Eve dinner.

  “So, Donald. I saw The Aces on the cover of Rolling Stone. You don’t grace the cover of that magazine and not be making a significant amount of money. How are you investing these funds?” my dad asks as he sips his red wine.

  He looks so fucking regal at the head of the table, wearing his navy, pinstripe, three-piece suit. His greying facial hair is neatly trimmed into a goatee fit for a pompous ass like himself.

  “I bought a house, Dad. The rest is in savings.” My answer feels right to me. I am proud of my accomplishments—accomplishments I achieved without my father’s money and influence.

  “Donald, buying a house isn’t investing. It’s a milestone in life. How are you using your money to make you money for your future? You can’t always bang on drums, especially not when you’re old like me.”

  I stare at him blankly. How the fuck should I know?

  “That’s what I thought. I’ll have Roger Wiles call you. He handles my entire portfolio effortlessly. I could have retired eighteen years ago but choose to work simply for the fact that I enjoy it. Daphney uses him as well.”

  My eyes flit over to Daphney, who’s sitting across from me. She smiles supportively but doesn’t speak. It bugs me that she’s daddy’s little girl. It’s like she settled for being the devil’s wingman. I smile back at her, because even if she’s wearing horns, she’s still my Crappy Dappy.

  When I look over at Mom, I frown. She sits perfectly poised in her chair, a mechanical smile plastered on her face. Now, introducing Mattel’s newest Barbie: Trophy Wife Barbie. She comes equipped with annual plastic surgery, perfect hair, and pearly white teeth. Trophy Wife Barbie never frowns and always meets Pompous Ass Ken at the door each night with a stiff drink and his slippers. Trophy Wife Barbie adores her children as long as they behave and fit into the perfect robot-child mold.

  “Donald,” Dad grumbles sternly. “Did you hear anything I was saying?”

  I drag my head back over to his. And drag is the keyword. The Xanax I took on an empty stomach to keep my nerves at bay has finally kicked in and I’m feeling fucking loopy as shit.

  “S-sorry, Dad. Yes, that’s fine,” I stammer out.

  He frowns at me. I jerk my head from his disapproving look to see my sister. Unfortunately, she is watching me with the same fucking look. Thankfully, I can always count on Mom. When I carry my gaze back over to her, Trophy Wife Barbie smiles broadly at me. I’m pretty sure her teeth sparkle at me. Embracing my inner loon, I grin back at her.

  “Donnie,” Nora says loudly, jerking me from my memory.

  “Yes, Stormy?”

  “Don’t start with me, buddy. I know you’re internally freaking out. I. Won’t. Let. Them. Hurt. You. Got it, sir?” Her eyebrow arches high on her face, full of attitude.

  I smile because my woman’s claws are out and razor sharp. “Got it, lady.”

  She smiles and proceeds to chirp happily about her day. My phone interrupts her and I answer it to Kenny.

  “Hey, man,” he greets.

  Now that the band is taking the permanent hiatus, he’s been busy working on a farewell album and other promotional ideas. He’s also been helping me with a side project as well.

  “What’s up, Kenny Mouse?”

  “Am I still invited to your family dinner? Turns out, the girlfriend is now an ex-girlfriend so I won’t be going with them tonight after all.”

  I grin. Even though my family is fucking bland as hell, at least I have one. Kenny lost both of his parents on 9/11. They both worked at the Twin Towers. He had to watch his life literally go up in smoke on a dorm room TV while away at college.

  “Dude, you’re always invited. But remember what I told you.”

  He laughs. “Don’t hit on your mom?”

  “No, asshole. Wear a suit.”

  I look over at Nora and grin. She’s smiling broadly, knowing that Kenny’s coming to dinner as well.

  “Do you still have the address?” I ask as I turn into my parents’ gated community.

  He chuckles. “Yeah, I’m standing in their driveway. I kind of hoped the offer still stood.”

  “Fucker. We’ll see you in a minute,” I laugh and hang up on him.

  Once we park behind Kenny’s BMW, he saunters over to us to shake my hand.

  “Nora, looking beautiful as always,” he compliments.

  “Thanks, Kenny.” She smiles as he hugs her.

  I’ve never been a jealous guy, and even though I have the hottest woman on the planet hugging Mr. GQ himself, the only emotion I feel is pride. My woman is gorgeous and she’s mine. I don’t have to grunt or go all alpha-crazy like Bobby and Chaz. Because as she pulls away from his hug, her eyes find mine like they always do.

  My lady.

  She reaches out for my hand and we make our way up the driveway to the house.

  “Donald, we’ve missed you,” Trophy Wife Barbie—a.k.a. Mom—greets when she opens the door to us. Sometimes, I wish there were truth in her words. They never miss me.

  “Mom, please meet my girlfriend Nora Storm and my manager, Kenny Stark,” I introduce.

  She reaches out and shakes both of their hands. “Please come in, kids. Your father and Daphney are in the parlor having cocktails.”

  I look around and sigh in relief once I realize that there’s nobody else here but my family and my guests. Normally, my parents invite about thirty of Dad’s colleagues to our family dinner, which makes things even more awkward.

  “Mom, where are all the guests?”

  “Your father wanted to keep the dinner intimate this time. I’ve prepared the meal myself this year.”

  My internal radar has been pinged and I’m on alert. Something doesn’t feel right.

  “Do-Do!” Daphney squeals once she sees me.

  My father, who is standing beside her, winces at her high-pitched screech.

  “Crappy Dappy!” I beam as I scoop her up for a hug.

  She pulls away and grins at me. “You should wear a suit more often.” />
  “I almost didn’t recognize you without your lab coat and ponytail,” I tease.

  Rolling her eyes, she turns her attention to my guests. “Nora,” she says with a curt smile. It’s a smile at least.

  “Daphney,” Nora greets back.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when neither of them claws the other.

  “And this is my manager, Kenny Stark, but you can call him Kenny Mouse,” I laugh.

  Kenny groans from embarrassment. Since when does Kenny get embarrassed at any of the bullshit that spews from my mouth?

  “Hi, Kenny Mouse. Nice to formally meet you. I’m Crappy Dappy,” she flirts. Yes, flirts. My sister is batting her damn eyelashes at my manager.

  He flashes her a grin, but Dad clears his throat, interrupting our exchange. “Daphney, when will Leonard arrive? He’s late.”

  “Who the fuck is Leonard?” Kenny and I ask at the same time. I flick my gaze to his and give him a warning glare.

  “Leonard is Daphney’s boyfriend. They’ve been dating for nearly a year, Donald,” he informs me.

  Well I’ll be damned. Daph never told me she was dating anyone.

  “He’s working late, but he’ll be here soon,” she says softly and chugs down her cocktail.

  Dad smiles at her but speaks to us. “Leonard is a surgeon at the hospital. He’s almost as good as I am.”

  “Daphney, darling, where are you?” a deep voice calls out.

  The moment the douchebag motherfucker walks into the room, I hate him.

  Fucking hate him.

  “Leonard,” Dad greets jovially. If only he ever greeted his own son that way.

  “Dr. Jennings.” He shakes my dad’s hand first and then leans over to place a kiss on Daphney’s head. “Darling.”

  I sneak a glance at Kenny and find him scowling. So I’m not the only one who doesn’t like Mr. Perfect.

  The asshole doesn’t bother shaking our hands but possessively wraps his arm around my sister. She bristles at his touch and frowns.

  I fucking hate him.

  “So, you must be Donald,” he says disdainfully.

  “You can call him Donnie,” Nora instructs coldly. Momma Bear hates him too and she’s sharpening her claws.

  “My, my. What a feisty one you’ve got there, Donnie,” he remarks. His smug attitude is about to get him a fucking punch in the nose.

  I ignore his comment. “You better be treating my sister right, Arnie Grape.”

  Daphney bursts out laughing but is quickly silenced by a menacing glare from that fucker. He’s on thin fucking ice right now.

  “Donald,” my dad warns.

  My arm twitches with the need to knock Leo down a few pegs.

  “Arnie Grape?” the fucker asks.

  Daphney tries to explain me, which is really a difficult task. But she’s my sister and knows me better than anyone. “Donnie gives people nicknames. Like, he calls me Crappy Dappy and him Kenny Mouse.”

  Fucktard Leo smirks at Kenny.

  “So, since your name is Leonard, he automatically shortened it to Leo. And when he thinks of Leo, he associated that with a character Leonardo DiCaprio played, Arnie Grape. You know, from What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?”

  “The retard?” he spits out at her.

  My body tenses. Motherfucking Leo will not leave this house without a bloody nose tonight. That’s for damn sure.

  “Mentally challenged!” Daphney shrieks at him.

  Thankfully, Dad interrupts, because things are getting intense rather quickly. “Leonard, I didn’t think the schedule was that full at the hospital. Was there an emergency that kept you?”

  Leo’s demeanor changes as he turns to look down at my sister with a sickening smile. “Actually, Dr. Jennings, I was late because I had to get this.”

  When he pulls out a ring box, Daphney blanches.

  Rage is bubbling inside. That better not be a fucking engagement ring.

  He flips it open nonchalantly and reveals the biggest fucking rock I’ve ever seen. “Babe, will you marry me?”

  She glances over at me and I just shake my head. Fucking ridiculous. The asshole couldn’t even get on one knee. Clearly he thinks so highly of my sister—not.

  “U-u-uh,” she sputters out.

  Dad flashes her a grin of approval and her shoulders slump.

  “Okay.” That is all she says.

  I thought chicks were supposed to cry and scream, “Yes!” when proposed to. Not my sister. Daph looks like she wants to puke. I’m right there with her.

  “Well, congratulations. I’m so pleased,” my father beams.

  Kenny, Nora, and I are still staring in shock. Mom smiles her sparkly trademark grin.

  “He’s a great catch, Crappy Dappy,” I growl and storm off into the dining room.

  If I knew Nora and Daph wouldn’t kill me, I’d love to have a drink right about now.

  This family is insane. I can somewhat tolerate Daphney now that I see that she pales in comparison to her idiot father. Mrs. Jennings is nice enough, but I’m thinking she went under the knife one too many times and her brain is now mush. It’s alarming that the woman has nothing to add—ever. She just smiles and runs around fetching things for Dr. Jennings. That man probably married her for that reason. He’s a total asshole.

  But Leonard.

  Leonard takes the freaking cake. At first glance, he’s a good-looking guy—tall, muscular, clean-cut. But the moment he opens his mouth, you realize that he’s just a carbon copy of Dr. Jennings. He’s rude, and it unnerves me how he gets underneath Donnie’s skin so easily.

  “Babe, are you okay?” I whisper to Donnie and squeeze his hand. We’ve just finished dinner and are all making our way into the den.

  “Just counting down until we can fucking leave,” he growls, his eyes on Leonard.

  I frown. This dinner has been awful—just like Donnie promised it would be. Even easygoing Kenny has turned quiet, not smiling once. The bitchy Daphney I know has plastered on one of those fake smiles that reminds me of her mother.

  After everyone has been poured a drink, we all take our seats on the sofas. Donnie and I sit close together on the loveseat. His massive arm curls around me and pulls me to him.

  “So, Donald. What are your plans now that playtime is over?” his father inquires snottily.

  Anger flares in my chest.

  “What do you mean playtime, Dad?” Donnie asks. His entire body tenses up.

  His dad laughs without humor, and I try to ignore the fact that idiot Leonard’s eyes have landed on my thighs now that my dress has ridden up some. I pull the pillow onto my lap to cover them up. When his eyes meet mine, I send him the most hateful look I can muster.

  “Son, you’ve been playing in your little band for over a decade now. Since you’ve been forced to grow up, what will you do now?”

  Donnie is quiet aside from the grinding of his teeth.

  “Have you ever listened to anything your son has ever created?” I ask coolly.

  Dr. Jennings’s eyes widen. “I don’t listen to noise.”

  I’m about to go off on him when Daphney pipes up. “It’s not noise, Dad. They’re really good. I especially love some of the duets that Ryan and Chaz sing together.”

  “Babe,” Leonard says as if he’s talking to a child, “it is most definitely noise. You’re always blasting it in the car, and if it weren’t for the fact your brother was in the band, I’d have already forbidden you to listen to it.”

  Kenny practically growls at Leonard. “Daphney doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who lets anyone forbid her to do anything.”

  “Excuse me,” Donnie huffs and stands.

  As he stalks out of the room, I start to get up to go after him, but Kenny stops me with a hand.

  “I’ll go check on him. I need the break before I break someone,” he grumbles under his breath.

  I nod and worriedly watch as he leaves the room too. Kenny is a good friend to Donnie, so I trust he’ll be able to calm him.
>
  “That boy always runs from his problems,” his dad mutters.

  My eyes fly to his. “Why don’t you try being a parent instead of a problem?” I snap. Nice Nora has fled the building.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, asshole. Donnie is a great guy. He’s amazingly talented, first of all—so don’t you ever discount his talents. Ever. Secondly, the man has a heart of gold. He loves big and he loves hard. That’s his problem, he cares too much. Unlike you. How can you even call yourself a father? You treat him like shit. For once, get your head out of your ass and appreciate your son for who he is—not look down on him because he isn’t who you want him to be. Donnie will always succeed no matter what he does because he’s one of a kind.” My chest heaves from my rant. I don’t miss the small smile on Daphney’s lips.

  “He’s one of a kind, all right,” Leonard laughs.

  I snap my head to him. “And you. You don’t deserve to be in the same room as her. You’re an asshole and I hope Daphney snaps out of the dizzy little daze you have her in because she deserves so much better than an arrogant prick who can’t even propose on one knee. Get a clue, dude.”

  I’m about to flip them both off when I hear a piano begin to play. Walking away from the two biggest jerks on the planet, I stride into the next room. Donnie is seated at the piano with his suit jacket off and sleeves rolled up. His head is bowed as he effortlessly plays “Trouble” by Coldplay. The song is sad—haunted almost—but he plays it like he wrote it. Kenny is leaning against the wall beside him, smiling down at him with pride.

  Coming up behind Donnie, I place my hands on his shoulders. Where the lyrics begin in the song, he starts to sing softly, almost to himself. His voice is beautiful, and I wonder why I’ve never heard him sing before. When it feels appropriate in the song, I join in. My voice is louder and more powerful, but we sing in unison. With each passing note, his voice grows stronger until he’s matching my own. The song feels as if it were written just for us to sing together.

  I lovingly squeeze his shoulders as his fingers glide across the keys. The man is a musical genius, and I’m delighted to call him mine. And when the song finishes, I kiss the top of his head.