The Reckoning

by S. L. Scott

  The Reckoning

  First Edition

  Copyright © S. L. Scott 2015

  The right of S.L. Scott to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

  This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ebook: 978-1-940071-31-2

  Cover design: Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations

  http://www.okaycreations.com/

  Interior Design: Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats

  Photo credit: Yuri Arcurs

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  About the Author

  All My Love to My Husband and Kids

  There’s something magical about you finding ‘your people’, those you connect with on a different, deeper level. Whether it by happenstance, kismet, or destiny, people are brought into your life for a reason. The true blessings I have the honor of calling friends—Amy, Cara, Danielle, Flavia, Heather, Irene, Kandace, Kellie, Kerri, Lisa, Lynsey, Marla, Mary, Ruth—deserve a HUGE Thank You for all of their kindness, hard work, support, encouragement, fun times, and big smiles. You make the journey that much more exciting.

  My family is everything. Truly the best. Thank you for not only putting up with the crazy hours, but also for the endless support you give me. I love you.

  I wanted to say Thank You to Sarah of Okay Creations for the magnificent covers you’ve made me over the years. And to Angela for the beautiful formatting of my books. You both make things pretty pretty and make me proud to show them off. To Melissa, Thank You for the wonderful, artful teasers. They are always a huge hit.

  To the Readers, you are Gold in my eyes. I adore your support, your enthusiasm, and your sweet messages. I am grateful to have found it onto your bookshelves—virtual and real shelves.

  Now, *rubs hands together* are we ready?

  The paper falls from my hands. I stand there in the middle of the street staring at it as it lands at my feet. A small ache that started days earlier has become a pulsing pain, tearing my heart apart.

  This isn’t how things were supposed to go. This isn’t how we were supposed to end. This isn’t how our melody goes. This isn’t how we were supposed to play out.

  I want my life back.

  I want my wife back.

  “Hey buddy, you gotta pay for that.”

  I look at the guy from the newsstand and pull out my wallet. I give him a ten and walk away, hoping to walk back into the life I’ll recognize because this one doesn’t feel like mine at all. But the weather sucks and it’s cold out. The rain has picked up and that pain inside me is getting worse.

  The pedestrian crossing beeps while I remain standing there still in shock. I never saw this coming. People bump me on both sides as they hurry past, but I’ve become numb to everything that’s not Holliday… and that fucking pain.

  Despite the crushing pain¸ I’m not giving her up—not easily.

  Not to him.

  Not ever.

  “Loneliness is the other side of Love. You can’t feel one without having experienced the other.” ~ Johnny Outlaw

  The color of Dalton’s eyes are electric, a color I’ve become familiar with. It’s the color that sets in before each show, part of the transformation into Johnny Outlaw.

  Backstage, in the largest dressing room, I watch my husband strum on his acoustic guitar while lounging on the burgundy leather sofa that has seen more than its fair share of musical legends. He’s another one to add to the list. Propped up against the makeup mirror, I bring my knees to my chest. I’m usually quiet before a show, not wanting to disturb the band’s preshow mental prep, but since it’s just the two of us, I ask, “Do you want to go out after or back to the hotel?”

  Dalton glances up at me before returning his gaze down to the guitar in his lap. “I want to go to the hotel. Just the two of us.”

  I smile. “Do you need anything?”

  “I need some caffeine and a bottle of water.”

  I slip off the counter and get a bottle of water from the tray of requested tour rider items. Holding it out for him, his hand wraps around mine. He looks up again and smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Leaning down, I kiss him on the top of the head. “Me too.”

  The door opens and the band’s manager, Tommy, walks in with Dex, the drummer. Tommy’s face is contorted, irritated by analyzing the lines running across his forehead. “Where the fuck are Kaz and Derrick? They were supposed to be here by now.”

  Dex grabs a bottle of water and plops down in a reclining chair just as I sit down next to Dalton. He says, “Traffic sucked getting here. We should have made them ride with us.”

  Tommy leans against the wall near the door. “You fuckers are gonna put me in an early grave.” He seems to catch himself right after the words leave his mouth. I jump as he swings so fast the air gushes past me, followed by a loud thump when he hits the wall with his fist. “Fuck!”

  Dalton sits up and I worry the subject will disturb his calm. It does. A bitterness seeps in when he says, “We all miss Cory, man. You can still be frustrated and shit. It’s not going to change the outcome.”

  I gulp heavily, my heart hurting from the topic. I didn’t know Cory Dean as well as the band, but I miss him. I’m reminded of his crash every time I get on a plane or look at his kids. I know Dalton does too. He’s talked to me about it, but he’s still trying to work through life without his best friend, and the other guitarist of The Resistance. It’s been a struggle for the band to move forward. Dex and Tommy have had their own ghosts to deal with regarding the loss. Kaz and Derrick will probably always feel they’re playing in Cory’s shadow considering they only have their guitar gig with the band because of his death. There’s so much to work through emotionally for everyone and they will each try to come to terms in their own way. But my heart hurts the most for Rochelle, the woman he left behind, who’s become one of my closest friends. I reach for Dalton’s hand. Our fingers entwine as my thoughts go back to Rochelle and her two young boys who will never really know their father.

  Dex drops his head into his hands, and groans, “Can we talk about something else?”

  The room is silent for at least a minute, before we’re startled. The door slams open. “What’s up?” Derrick says coming inside the dressing room. He stops when he sees everyone’s expressions. The vibe of the room clueing him in, his voice drops and he sounds solemn this time
when he asks, “What’s wrong?”

  Tommy flicks him on the head. “Nothing, Fucker! You’re late.”

  Melodramatic, he grabs his head. “Ow! Fuck you, dude.”

  Kaz comes in after him, ducking out of Tommy’s reach before he gets flicked. Tommy announces, “Ten minutes until show time. Piss or…” He looks at us. “Fuck or do whatever you’re gonna do, but be ready in ten minutes.” He turns and disappears out the door, closing it behind him.

  Rolling my eyes, I ask, “Does he have to be so offensive?”

  “Yes, that’s why we pay him the big bucks. He makes sure things go off without a hitch. But he should know that there’s no ten minute fucks when it comes to us.”

  I laugh. “He shouldn’t know that actually, but I know you guys talk sometimes, so I’ll let that comment slide.”

  Dalton chuckles. “Yeah, probably best.”

  A few minutes later, Dalton finishes his water and asks, “Can you get me a soda or Red Bull? I need to tell Rochelle to add it to our rider so we have them at the next show.”

  I start for the door. “I think I saw a machine down the hall. I’ll go check.”

  “Thanks, Baby.”

  I leave the room and close the door. It’s best that they have a few minutes to themselves while I search for that caffeine. A table with snacks and cans of sodas is near the stairs to the stage. I grab a Coke and head back. I slowly open the door, but stop when I overhear them talking. I don’t want to eavesdrop, but Dex’s voice is not low, wanting to be heard by everyone. “I’m not the same person. You’re not. These two punks are still learning the songs. But this is it, Johnny. This is the band. You’re either with us or you’re not.”

  I have no idea what spurred Dex to say that, but it worries me. Cory’s death destroyed Dalton and almost destroyed us in the process. It was a black abyss that left him lost for a long time. But together we found the light and I intend to keep us there. “I found one,” I say loud enough for that conversation to end just in case they didn’t want me to hear.

  When Dalton sees me, he puts on a smile that I can tell is only for show. My stomach tenses, concerned about what’s going on with him. I don’t dare ask before a performance though. He gets up, sets his guitar down, and takes the can, popping the top. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Pointing over my shoulder, I say, “I’m going out to find my spot.” I give him a quick kiss, and add, “Break a leg.”

  Dalton nods and returns to the couch as I make my way out again. As I walk out from backstage, I find an usher to help me figure out where my seat is. My breath momentarily catches in my throat as I look out over almost twenty-thousand people all screaming for The Resistance. More than half seem to be women screaming for Johnny Outlaw alone. I’m reminded of the life the lead singer of a band lives.

  I push down the anxious thoughts that these women all want what I have, and find my seat.

  Magnetic.

  Johnny Outlaw is magnetic. Captivating is an understatement. Like every other woman in this arena and most of the men, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of him since he walked out on stage. I’m drawn to him as he sings, his words arouse like thrusts to my heart.

  In the beginning of us, nothing seemed to matter beyond the deep attraction I had for that man. Standing here today in the VIP section and watching him, I realize I also get the glory—the romantic side of this complicated man. The dark strides alongside as well, but every dark day is worth the hundred light ones he gives in return. Jack Dalton was born to be a star, and as I watch his legacy play out before me, I’m pushed hard from behind, my hands slamming against the railing. “What the hell?” I move quickly to get to safety. But my quick is not fast enough as some woman claws at me from over the shoulder of the guy between us. Standing on a chair, she catches my hair just as I try to duck. She still manages to swipe a little of it, causing me to scream. I try to escape my spot, but get trapped by the audience closing in around me.

  The crowd starts to ebb and flow like a large lung needing air. The crazy woman pushes forward with the audience as The Resistance plays one of their most popular hits. I brace myself against the barricade and look for a way out. I’m yanked back by my shirt, which rips, sinewy fingers and fake red nails gripping tightly. I scream for her to let me go and the guy between us finally blocks her. She’s yelling how Johnny is hers forever and belongs to only her. “I wish you would die,” she yells.

  Struck with fear gripping me, my heart is pounding, my head telling me to flee, but I can’t find a way out. The guy hits her arm until she releases me. Pushing away from her, I’m smashed against the barricade. About to jump on it, I step up and come face-to-face with Dalton. He grabs me and lifts me to safety on the other side of the barrier. As I slide down the front of his body, he asks, “You okay, Angel?”

  Security is flanking him, two guys suddenly behind me, protecting us from the groping crowd. The band continues playing on stage, but the rest seems to disappear, leaving us in our own world. I rub where I had my hair pulled. “I’m okay.”

  He looks at me, cups my face, and kisses me. My eyes close and I’m transported, the universe once again revolving around us. When our lips separate, it’s not hurried, but slow as if we have all the time in the world. His hands slide from my face down over my shoulders and arms until he’s holding my hands. “Come with me,” he mouths as we come crashing back into reality.

  I follow him. Like an agile cat, he hops back up on stage easily. Leaning down, he offers me a hand. One of the roadies lifts me up and I take Dalton’s hand so he can bring me into his arms again. Together, we walk to the microphone. I don’t want to look out, hating attention on me, but I can’t resist this opportunity, this once in a lifetime chance.

  Dex does a drum roll as Dalton talks to the crowd, “Hello San Diegoooo!” He holds the mic out to the audience, listening for their response. They do not disappointment. The arena is loud and excited, hellos and whistles heard in return. Dalton suddenly looks a bit bashful, nothing like the Johnny Outlaw from minutes before. He sends a sideways glance to me before turning forward and smiling. “I’m not always lucky enough to have this beautiful woman at my shows, but tonight is different and I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Holliday.”

  My face turns red while I laugh from the exhilaration. “I can’t believe you did that,” I say, hitting him playfully on the chest. He grabs me as my name is chanted throughout the arena. The name Holliday is quickly replaced by the request for us to kiss.

  He grabs me and does a slight dip. With the smile that could get me to do anything, he says, “We don’t want to disappoint the fans, Love.”

  “No, we wouldn’t want to do th—” The lips I adore take ownership of mine right there in the middle of the stage during a live concert in San Diego.

  And I savor every second.

  We’re both laughing too hard, having too much fun, to keep it going. He hugs me and swings me around. “Love you. Now get back to your concert,” I say.

  When he sets me down, he winks at me. I blow him a kiss and run off stage. I hear him through the speakers ask, “How about some more music?” The audience reacts loudly and the band starts playing again.

  My smile is huge, my heart racing fast from the excitement. That’s the first time we ever made a public statement about our relationship and we did it in front of that many people… Wow. I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. I’m just giddy and so happy.

  “You’re a lucky woman.” Standing nearby with a clipboard, a woman I don’t recognize eyes me. She has her dark hair woven into an intricate braid that hangs over one shoulder. Her glasses conceal her eyes a bit, but not enough to hide her beauty. She’s thin and wears a fitted Resistance T-shirt that fits over her large breasts rather snuggly.

  I take notice because there was no true friendliness in her comment, reminding me that millions of women are infatuated with my husband no matter what kind of public displays of dedication we put on. “Thanks,�
� I reply, looking at her before walking away.

  Tommy comes to me and says, “Well that just made the crowd go crazy.”

  “Yeah, unexpected. Sorry for throwing the show off.”

  “No, no,” he says, “I think it was great. I know it wasn’t a stunt but I think it was great to help with rumors and…” He holds his phone up. “The video is already online.”

  “No way.”

  “Yep.” My face must show my anxiety because he puts his arm around me and laughs. “Don’t stress. It’s great. It’s great for the band. It’s great for the tabloids. They eat this shit up.”

  Rolling my eyes, I give my best fake excited, not amused at all look. “Yay!”

  “I know how much you love the press,” he says sarcastically. “Can I buy you a drink to ease the pain?”

  “I think I need one.”

  “If it makes a difference, look at Johnny out there.” He leads me to a spot where I can see Dalton on stage. “A year ago I didn’t think I’d ever see him perform this song again, but look at him.”

  We stand there and listen while watching him bleed his heart out through lyrics and riffs he used to play alongside his best friend. I say, “He’s where he was always meant to be.”

  Tommy adds, “He sounds better than ever. That’s because of you. You gave him what he needed to heal.”

  “I don’t know if he’s healed, but he’s in a better place.” The woman with the clipboard catches my attention again. She’s still waiting at the bottom stairs. Her glasses are tucked into her shirt now. “Hey Tommy, who’s that?”

  “Ashley? She’s new on this tour.”

  I watch as she speaks into a walkie-talkie before clipping it back onto her belt again. “What does she do?”

  “She’s part of the crew that changes out the mics and instruments.”

  “Like when Dalton changes to his acoustic guitar?”

  “Yeah, and Dex goes through three sets of drumsticks on average per show. She makes sure the guys get what they need when they need it.”