Shit. I rise and cross the room to him. I link my arm through his. He swivels his head to me, and his eyes widen, as if he’s surprised to see me.
The look pains me. I want to be there for him. “What’s wrong?”
Alec inhales and puffs his chest out. My eyes flicker to his hands. They are pulled into tight fists, his knuckles white. The man seems coiled with tension. I lean into him, hoping he will relax at the contact, like he does at night, but his shoulders are every bit as high, and his lips are held into a tight, thin line. I hate whatever causes him to be unhappy.
“Dad’s a con man.” Alec’s words come out quickly, and it takes me awhile to piece them together. Because—well it’s impossible that he’s a con man. Isn’t that something just in movies and so-so television shows? Something for my security guards to worry about?
I stroke Alec’s back, and am proud I’ve resisted the urge to laugh. “What makes you think that?”
I say it in my most soothing voice, and Alec finally, finally turns his head to mine. His dark eyes appraise mine, and I smile into them. I don’t want Alec to be upset. He reminds me of a cat who might be easily spooked, and I’m careful to make any sudden movements that will make him vanish into himself again.
Because believing his dad is a con man is huge. And if he actually is . . . I shudder. I continue to stroke Alec’s back, working to relieve him of the tension that eats through him. My mind strives to recall everything I know about con men. I’ve had people try to use me before, sure, but I’ve managed to keep my private life pretty quiet. In retrospect, mainly by not having a life. My mouth twists.
“He really is, you know.” Alec steps away from me, and I try to process his words as I deal with the loss of the warm feeling from our bodies pressed together. He turns his back to me. The sun shines through the window, every bit as bright as before our conversation, and I stare at his dark silhouette. I’m conscious of the hole in his black tank and his forbidding muscles. I stare at his black tattoo. Maybe I don’t know him that well at all.
Alec appears like a guy I might see on the street, loitering at a corner, that I might casually label a bad boy.
What do I know about him? And what do I know about his father?
My legs quiver, and I sit on the bed. The glare from the sun irritates me, and sweat breaks out in the space in between my shoulder blades. A dull feeling spreads through my body, accompanied only by my ever-faster beating heart, and Alec gives me a knowing look, as if he knew all along that I wouldn’t be able to give him support once I knew the truth.
“But what does he want?” I ask. “Access to my accounts? Because that’s kept very safe, and now I know—”
I don’t want to think that he’s already gotten exactly what he wanted—access to my mother. All my mother’s love and affection, stored up after a bad marriage, is given to this man. All her hopes and dreams and . . . I suck in a deep breath of air. Shouldn’t I have noticed something? Was there a glint in his eye? A smirk?
All Brad has ever been is nice and fun . . . maybe he’s too charming? Is that the hint? I squirm on the bed, but the soft sheets may as well be sandpaper.
“But . . . oh, God. Mom loves him. If only—” I don’t know what else to say, and my words drop off into the vast, silent chasm between us.
“You didn’t know,” Alec says, his gaze too solemn, as if he’s never, ever going to tell me this has all been a joke because it’s all too real.
Alec settles beside me, and this time his hand reaches to soothe mine. “Maybe he wants your accounts. I don’t know. Probably he would love to have them, but I don’t think he’s counting on or even working toward it.”
I nod.
“Marriage to your mom is still pretty sweet.”
“Dude!”
A dark sheen colors his cheeks, and he shrugs. “S-sorry. That’s just how he’s thinking. And it’s horrible, I know. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I think I do have to tell you. Since you could have told me days—weeks—ago what happened.”
I don’t add, And we’ve been sleeping together. And I thought you cared. I thought you cared a lot.
Alec’s jaw tightens, and his hands stop smoothing my back. He places them on his knees, but not before I notice them quiver. “You’re right. But it’s complicated.”
The words hang in the air like a social media relationship status denoting a less than awesome relationship. He clears his throat and rises, resuming his pacing. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. He’s—he’s my dad, you know? And he’s had it really hard.”
“Yeah, maybe he should find a career that’s actually legal,” I say, my voice brimming with sarcasm. “Use his Harvard degree for something good.”
Alec stares at me, and his long lashes blink. “He didn’t go to Harvard.”
“But he said . . .”
“Yeah, and he also said he loved your mom.”
I swallow hard, and my heartbeat quickens. “You don’t think he does?”
My voice is soft, and I avert my eyes from him. I’m still hoping so much that he says Brad does love my mom. “I mean, if he has legal trouble, well, obviously I can help him out. If there are things from other, um, con jobs . . .”
“You’re too nice,” Alec says. “You shouldn’t be thinking that. You should be staying far away from him. And making sure your mom does too.” His fists tighten, and his voice becomes more formal. “And—and I know this means we’re through, and I just wanted to say that things have been really great. And I’ll—I’ll miss every—”
I rise from the bed and make my way to him, my feet padding quickly over the fluffy shag carpets that dot my room. Alec didn’t need to tell me this. I wished he had told me long ago, but I get why he didn’t. And I’m not going to confirm his fears and make him leave. No way. Even if a tiny voice inside me tells me I should. I wrap my arms around him and pull him into a deep kiss. “You are not your father.” I pause for emphasis after each word. “Understand that.”
I drop my hands from his neck, and he stares at me. His rosy lips part, and they are adorable, and I want to suck on them, but now is not the time.
“You should have told me way before.” My voice is stern, but I allow myself to give him a short smile, and he looks at me in awe. This time, I don’t dismiss him as a fanboy. This time, I know he’s really seeing me, all of me. “Now tell me what happened.”
He nods slowly, and the look in his eyes doesn’t change. I squeeze his shoulder, and we sit in the armchairs in my room. The ocean sweeps before us, and I focus my gaze on it, allowing Alec the time to collect himself. The glare of the sun is strong, even inside, and I wish I had my sunglasses.
I think of the designer sunglasses I gave Brad. Nothing special, definitely not, but maybe I am too trusting. I have security, but didn’t order a background check on my mother’s boyfriend.
I glance at Alec. I think what we have is awesome, but I’ve never been in any sort of a relationship with a guy before. I think it’s Alec who makes everything special, but part of me wonders now whether it’s just the fact that I’m with a guy. Maybe that makes everything more special, at least compared to the brief relationships I’ve had with girls in the past. Short relationships that never lasted longer than a few dates to important events, things I never considered the least bit odd because Caleb was doing the exact same thing.
I was an idiot.
But a busy one. Maybe if I had known myself better, I wouldn’t have been as driven to work long, ridiculous hours. I wouldn’t have thrown myself into writing songs that I can see now were about my sense of being incomplete, even if they found a whole market for teen girls thinking the same thing. I guess everyone has an inner wound.
I just discovered mine now.
“You’re going to need to tell your mom,” Alec says, squeezing my hand.
I close my eyes. I need to tell Mom I’m gay, yes. But oh, God, then I need to tell her that her fiancé is a scam artist.
I turn my gaze toward him. “And what will your father say when Mom breaks off the engagement?”
Alec shifts, and his body stiffens. His jaw is once again tense, and his eyes flicker down. “That’s not the point. You have to do what is right for your mother. And—and marrying my dad definitely isn’t the right thing to do.”
It’s suddenly too cold in the room, and I shiver and unroll the sleeves of my checkered shirt. The extra inches of material do nothing to quell the sense of coldness that sweeps through me.
Alec just has a father. If their relationship is harmed . . . the immensity of what Alec has done, by essentially betraying his father, is clear. I feel guilty for thinking he should have told me before. That would have made things so much easier for me, but the situation sucked.
If Alec had said nothing, he would be benefiting when his father married into my family, entwining his finances with my mother’s.
“Are you sure?” I rub my hand through my hair, conscious of Alec’s eyes on me. “I mean, he seems so great. Maybe you misunderstood things?”
Alec’s shoulders sags. “I hope I’m wrong. Maybe they should postpone things. I can’t just watch them get married and hope for the best. I really debated telling you,” Alec says. “The way he ogled Celia—”
I stiffen. I don’t like the way this is going. Alec shakes his head. “Anyway. So not important. Your mom is awesome and deserves someone better.”
“But, like—” I pause and suck in a breath of air. “Lots of men check out people when they’re dating or in relationships. I don’t think it’s necessarily a big deal.”
“You telling me you’ve been checking out cute guys all the time?” Alec tilts his head and grins at me, his eyes sparkling.
My heartbeat races, as it always does, even now, when Alec’s attention is focused on me like this. I flex my fingers, trying to do something with the energy that swirls through me, as if every cell in my body is telling me that I need to go over to him. I swallow, but my throat is dry. “You telling me we’re in a relationship?”
I smile up at him, proud my voice is steady. My heartbeat thuds, hopeful Alec will answer the question that has occupied my mind these past few weeks. Instead, Alec’s smile vanishes, and he says, “I’m no good for you, Ezra.”
I avert my eyes, and I am reminded that this is the first boy I’ve been with. My shoulders hunch, and though I’m a year older than Alec, I feel much younger.
“So . . . tell me about your dad. Why are you so sure he’s a con man?”
Alec exhales, and his fingers tap against the edge of his chair. I’m glad he’s not the only one who is uneasy.
“Oh, different schemes to get money. Including—um, including one I did with him in high school. Just computer hacking things, you know.”
“I don’t know.” My eyes widen. “What are you talking about, Alec?”
His hands quiver, and he places them on his knees. “Nothing legal, I’m afraid. Dad challenged me to see if I could and—oh, God, I never should have done it. Didn’t think he actually was going to take the money. He just seemed excited and vibrant that I was showing him all these things, and it made me proud, you know? He was so sad when Mom died—”
“How did she die?” I press my lips together. I’ve heard references, but not the true story.
“Pneumonia. Ridiculous, really. Who dies of pneumonia these days? We should have dragged her to the hospital, but it was a long drive, we didn’t have a car, and no health insurance means waiting a long time in the ER. We thought she could just sleep it off.” He grimaces. “But she never woke up.”
“So your dad decided then he wanted to become more comfortable.”
Alec nods. “I think he doesn’t really care about hurting others now. For some reason. Mom was everything to him, and—still is, I think. Now it’s just a matter of finding something to distract himself from thoughts of her.”
“I’m sorry, Alec.”
He nods, his expression stiff and his hands all too rigid. “I just think Angela should know.”
“And tell me more about your conning,” I say, not quite able to forget that Alec hacked into some system.
He shrugs. “The guy was wealthy, we didn’t take very much—not to him at any rate—but it was horrible. Horrible when I explained to Dad what needed to happen to make that transfer. And then horrible when Dad went along and did it.”
“Oh.”
Alec rakes his hand through his hair. “I’ve been paying the guy—the guy we took from—back. That’s why I was so happy to get this internship. He was a relative, a distant one, and he didn’t go to the police. But if Dad goes down for any reason, there’s always the threat he could expose me too.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” I say.
Alec presses his lips together again. “Maybe. Last year he married someone, someone rich, and that didn’t work out very well. She ended up in a rehab center.”
I frown. “My mom’s not an addict, Alec.”
“No . . . but neither was Margaret when he first met her.”
I’m silent.
“I’m not worried that your mom will end up like that, but I do know that your mom is great, and you are great.” Alec swallows. “And I don’t want anything bad to happen to either of you. So just go downstairs and tell your mother. I—I guess I could leave before, so you don’t need to be reminded of this conversation when you come up again.”
I stare at him. “My mom isn’t downstairs, Alec.”
He shrugs. “Then her room, then.”
I frown. “She’s not home. Don’t you know?”
Alec tilts his head, picking up on the urgency in my speech. “Well, where is she, Ezra?”
I drop my head to my hands, and the dull ache in my body spreads, turning into something more painful. Because I know where she’s gone, and this can’t be fixed easily.
Chapter Eighteen
Alec
Ezra shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He opens his mouth and then closes it, and my stomach does this thing again where it twists itself into knots. He rubs his hand through his hair, and I want to focus on the different shades of blond. I want to focus on the strands of platinum and gold that mesh together, and I want to focus on the adorable shade of pink that Ezra’s cheeks turn when he’s worried. I want to just hold him in my arms and tell him everything will be okay, but maybe it won’t be.
I swallow hard. I know what the man is like onstage; I’ve seen a lot of the videos, even if I don’t want to admit it to Ezra. But when Ezra is by himself, when he knows he doesn’t need to perform, doesn’t need to fulfill the role of leader, he’s different. He’s like any other guy, with insecurities, and I love that he trusts me enough to show them to him.
Even though I know Ezra is the most awesome man I’ve ever met, and even though I know his heart must be made of gold because he’s just that decent and kind, I still expected him to kick me out of the house once he found out about Dad. I did not expect him to sit with me, frickin’ comfort me, and brainstorm ways to make everything better.
“She’s in Vegas, Alec.”
My stomach plummets because I don’t think Angela is the type to go to Vegas to gamble. “Please tell me she has a passion for gaudy lights and luxurious hotel rooms that I don’t know about.”
Ezra shakes his head slowly, and nausea rises in my throat. I’m too late. I should have told Ezra long before about my dad, and I didn’t want to because I was enjoying spending time with him too much. It’s all my fault, just like it always is.
“They’re getting married,” Ezra says, his voice soft.
“But that’s impossible. And wouldn’t they invite you? Or me?”
This must be some crazy mistake. Some misunderstanding. Maybe there’s a restaurant in LA called Vegas. And getting married . . . no, they just can’t.
“They were supposed to marry two months from now!”
“I know.” Ezra looks down and twiddles his thumbs together. “But you know how it is . . . I
didn’t want the paparazzi to go to their wedding. Mom was worried enough about being in a white wedding dress again—”
“So you just bought plane tickets for them?” I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Just like that?”
My heart thuds hard in my chest. Crazily, I even thought Dad and I were getting along. I stressed so long about whether or not to tell Alec because of Dad’s trust in me, but Dad didn’t trust me at all, planning to elope without even telling me.
And I know now that Dad is just intent on scamming her. Pushing up the wedding like that—not inviting Ezra and me—that sort of thing doesn’t just happen because of a fear of white dresses. I sense Dad was behind Ezra’s mother’s decision. He’s a master at manipulation. I know it, and fell for him all over again, this time hurting someone I care about.
“Well . . . I did wonder,” Ezra said.
“God.” I rub my hand through my hair and rise from my chair. I punch my fist into the wall and continue pacing the room. “This blows.”
“Better now?” Ezra raises an eyebrow at me.
“Totally,” I answer, but my face seems permanently etched into a frown. “Call them.”
“Okay.” Ezra rises.
Temporary setback, that’s all. They won’t get married. And I’ll just have ruined my relationship with my father, my only relative left in this world. Because that distant one whose account I hacked sure doesn’t count.
“Don’t worry,” I say, but my heart is pounding. I want there to be a world where Ezra and I can continue to be friends, and that’s not ever going to happen if our parents marry. That’s never going to happen if Ezra and I become stepbrothers, and it’s never going to happen if my dad crushes his mother in the way that I think he’s going to. Because Dad has disappointed me more times than I can count, and I’m his frickin’ flesh and blood.
Never mind.
Ezra will call his Mom, she’ll be cool about it, tell him she was having second doubts anyway, and nothing much will happen. His Mom will stay in a fancy hotel room and be even happier because she’ll get the room all to herself. Because surely that must be even more awesome, right? I suck in a deep breath of air and settle back into the armchair. I focus on the view outside, willing the steady beat of waves to calm me, but all I can imagine is them rushing over the sand, over and over and over again, and grinding the sand into such small pieces, they might as well not exist at all.
My Stepbrother the Rock Star (Men of Midnight Dreams Book 2) Page 11
