Kellion

by Marian Tee

  KELLION

  By Marian Tee

  His name is Kellion. Beautiful. Wicked. Dashing. Alive. That’s what attracted me the most about him – that he’s so full of life, it makes me feel like I’m not dead inside.

  I thought he was just like all the other bikers of the Afxisi, America’s most popular and exclusive underground racing club. Someone too rich, too gorgeous for his own good, someone too full of himself to be human.

  But then I saw a secret side of him. Realized that he had just been pretending all along. Realized that he needed me, and that broken part of him drew me in, like a moth to a flame.

  Now, I want to be the one to make him smile. Really smile, and not like all those fake smiles he used to make the girls around him fall in love.

  I want to make him think of me, just me. I want to belong to him, just him. But most of all, I want him to know I love him. Not the biker, not the billionaire’s son, not the hot guy. But him. Kellion.

  Even if his smile tells me he’ll end up tearing me apart, I need him to know he’s not alone. I’m his to love or destroy. Whatever he wants – I’m his.

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  KELLION

  By Marian Tee

  Copyright 2014 by Streak Digital Publishing

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Two years ago

  “Who’s the cutest girl in town?” My voice echoed throughout the suite, which was the most expensive room in the hotel. Recently, they had developed a taste for the extravagant, my parents. The cost of the suite made me mentally wince, but my worries were wiped away when I saw Ashton’s chubby cheeks split into a grin.

  Clapping his hands, he said with sparkling eyes, “You!”

  I snatched him off his chair and brought him to my lap for a tight hug. Oh my God, I had the cutest baby brother in the world. I really, really did.

  When I drew back, he quickly scrambled off my lap and climbed back up on his stool. It was taller than him, but Ashton had always been nimble and soon enough he was back up on the stool.

  I watched him, happiness spreading inside me as my three-year-old brother wolfed down the two-pounder burger we had ordered for him. But still, I cautioned, “Slow down or you might choke.”

  “I’m…not…” Ashton protested, his mouth so full with food he looked like a blowfish. The cutest blowfish on Earth.

  When he was done chewing and swallowing, I handed him a bottle of water.

  He made a face. “Soda please.”

  I shook my head. Actually, our parents had ordered soda from room service, but that was them. They always gave in to whatever Ashton wanted, even if it was wrong for him.

  “Water,” I told him. “Soda’s bad for you.”

  Tears welled up in his big eyes, which were the same blue-violet shade as mine.

  Goooooood. I had the cutest little brother in the world. And the most manipulative, too.

  I covered my eyes. “No. Just water. You can have soda when it’s Saturday.”

  Ashton didn’t answer.

  I peeked at him and gasped. Why, the little sneak was already on his way to the fridge and about to get himself a soda.

  “Stop it!” But I was laughing as I went after him.

  Ashton chortled in laughter, the sound becoming hig
h-pitched as he tried to hurry faster towards the fridge.

  “Gotcha!” I lifted him up before he could reach for the handle.

  “No fair!” But he was chortling, his chubby face red with exertion and excitement.

  I dumped him back on the stool. “I’m serious.” I did my best to fight the grin trying to show up on my lips. “No soda.”

  “You’re bad!”

  “Yeah, I’m bad.” I made my eyes widen and glared down at him. “I’m the wicked evil witch and I eat little kids like you when they don’t do what I say.”

  Ashton gasped. “Don’t be a witch!”

  I snarled at him.

  Ashton screamed.

  Laughing, I hugged him to me. God, he was too, too, too cute. “I’m just joking. Now, finish your meal because after this, it’s time to go to bed.”

  He grimaced. “Yuck.”

  I pinched his cheeks. “You need to sleep or you’ll stay small like that forever. You’ll be the smallest man in the world and everyone won’t see you because you’re too small. They’ll step on you—”

  Ashton started to cry.

  God, so cute! I hugged him again. “Sorry, you know I’m just joking right.”

  “No,” Ashton wailed and cried harder.

  Oh my God, I wanted to take a photo of his crying face. Were babies really this cute or was it just Ashton?

  “Sssh, sssh, sorry.” I ruffled his head. “How about I sing you a song?” As expected, his tears miraculously dried and I grinned.

  “Sing…” Ashton stopped speaking, frowning in thought. It made him look like a mini-lawyer, a three-year-old lost in thought. My heart nearly burst with joy at the sight of him. For this guy, I thought, I would sing forever.

  He changed my life, gave me a reason to live, and the thought that our mother had almost aborted Ashton made me shudder, like it always did.

  Ashton’s eyes were sparkling again. I itched to draw him like that, even though I knew I didn’t have time for it, not with my concert about to start in an hour.

  “What do you want me to sing?” I expected the usual song little boys suggested. Something from a cartoon show maybe, or something popular—

  He hummed a song.

  My eyes widened. Since we both took after our mom, his tone was pitch-perfect even at his young age. I recognized the song right away, but I couldn’t believe that Ashton would ask something like it.

  “Really?” It was a Broadway song. More specifically, it was from the Phantom of the Opera, which Raoul and Christine had sung when they saw each other again after so many years.

  I hummed the song.

  Ashton nodded happily. “That one!” He was clapping his hands again, legs swinging. He always did these things when he was super excited, a trait that was supposedly common for kids with ADHD like him.

  “Well, okay, if that’s what you really want…” I took a deep breath and sang. A cold shiver swept over me as I sang the first lines. I felt like someone had walked over my grave, but I told myself that it was just my natural aversion manifesting itself.

  If The Little Mermaid’s voice was a gift, I looked at mine as a curse. A voice that was so beautiful it could supposedly take people’s breaths away. But for me, it took away my childhood, my identity – everything that I wanted to be had been erased the first time my parents heard me sing.

  The moment they realized my voice made people smile, cry – the moment they realized my voice made people dig into their pockets, as deep as they wanted, it was all over.

  To be a singer, that was my destiny.

  My curse.

  One that had my life documented on YouTube, a budding diva in the making. One that had us moving from town to town, long enough to complete a couple of gigs but never long enough for me to make friends.

  Sometimes, I wanted to sing and sing until I could no longer breathe.

  But then Ashton came…

  When I finished singing, my brother said, “You are so cool.” Ashton was beaming at me as he said the words.

  I hugged him again.

  “Can’t…breathe,” Ashton gasped.

  “Too bad.” I hugged him more tightly. For this little guy, I really would do everything. Sing till the end of the world if it was what would make him have the best life in the world. I wanted to buy him the cutest toys, wanted him to go to the best schools, to have his own life and not be like me.

  The main door of our suite opened. “Time to go,” Amelie sang. She was a little drunk. Again.

  I frowned, wishing I could tell her not to show herself to Ashton when she was like that. “I’ll just put Ashton to bed—”

  “No time for that,” Dan said. My dad’s voice was brisk as he took Ashton from me. “We need to go there earlier, someone from ABC wants to talk to you.”

  “But it’s time for his nap—”

  “He can sleep in the car,” Dan said impatiently. “Stop fussing over him. It’s just going to make him gay.”

  My lips tightened, but I knew better than to argue when Dan was like this. Only one thing could have put him in a bad mood, and I wondered how much debt he had acquired this time. Grabbing my bag from the floor, I thought about how much tips I could make tonight. My gig was at a B-list club, but it should still have a couple of VIPs. Maybe…maybe if I make a thousand dollars in tips, maybe Dan wouldn’t be so nasty and Ashton could enjoy a day at the park tomorrow?

  Inside the car, we were all silent, even Ashton. Sometimes, I felt like his condition made him more sensitive, more mature than his tender three years. And I hated that. I really hated that because it meant Ashton would be aware of how shitty his life was.

  “You’ve practiced your songs?” Dan was looking at me through the car’s rearview mirror.

  “Yup.” I bit my lip hard, knowing that warning him about looking away from the road would only make him nastier. God was too good, I thought. Dan and Amelie shouldn’t have been blessed with someone as sweet as Ashton.

  When we reached the club, I shook my head when Amelie started to step out of the car as well. “I can handle myself inside, promise. I’ll only be nervous if you two are gonna watch.” It was my favorite lie these days, one I used to feed their egos and make sure both of them stayed with Ashton while I was working. If it was just Dan, he might end up losing his temper. But if it was just Amelie, she might end up losing Ashton himself. She was that much of a ditz.

  Amelie was pouting. “Oh, honey, you know how we’re so proud of you.”

  “I know, but seriously, you’re just gonna make me too self-conscious. Maybe you two could go to a nice resto or go shopping while waiting?”

  Amelie’s eyes sparkled. They reminded me of how Ashton’s eyes would sparkle, minus the avarice.

  “Are you sure?” Amelie was visibly doing her best to contain her excitement.

  “Totally.”

  “Well, okay, if that’s what you think will help…”

  It took everything not to roll my eyes. I glanced at Ashton. His eyes were drooping now. I bit my lip hard. “Be a good boy, k?” I whispered.

  He nodded, sleepily.

  I got out of the car and waved at them. “See you later, I’ll send a text when I’m done.”

  Ashton managed to wave at me. “I love you.”

  I blew him a kiss. “I love you.”

  If I had known that was the last time I’d see him alive, I would have…I would have…I would have…

  ****

  I knew something was wrong when neither Dan nor Amelie were there to greet me backstage. They were no stage parents, but they considered my singing serious business. Serious money-making business, and they wanted to make sure that every gig went smoothly.

  Instead of my parents, the club’s owner was there. Mr. Prescott was a nice man, probably the only nice club owner I had ever met, with the way he treated me like a daughter. Most others came on to me, thinking I was either too young to know they were halfway to molesting me – or too desperate for money.

  M
r. Prescott was not smiling.

  Another cold shiver swept over me and my heart started to race. My palms were sweating.

  “Mr. Prescott?”

  It took him a while to speak, and when he did, his voice was shaking. “I’m afraid I have bad news…”

  No. Please God, no.

  Only one thing in this world could make me this afraid.

  I covered my ears. If I didn’t hear the news, I could pretend nothing had happened. That I would—

  But Mr. Prescott had started to talk again and no matter how much I tried to block his voice, it reached me, deafened me, killed me.

  They went to a restaurant that didn’t allow minors.

  Oh God, oh God, I knew where this was going—

  They left…they left Ashton inside the car, with the air-conditioning on.

  No, I don’t want to hear this, it’s not true—

  He was there for hours.

  Oh God, while I was singing, while I was doing something I hated, he was there, locked inside—

  It didn’t help that he had a breathing problem.

  No, no, no – what did that mean? Yes, I knew he had a hard time breathing, but what did he mean? That my brother started to choke and no one saw him? That he kept screaming for help and no one heard? That he thought we had all left him?

  The car has a broken exhaust system. Your dad made the confession that the money for its repair – they ended up using it to pay for your suite at the hotel.

  “But he’s okay, right?” I looked at Mr. Prescott, but I didn’t really see him. “He’s just sick, right?”

  “Aria…”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to hear it.” I couldn’t bear to hear it. To think it. To imagine it.

  “I’m sorry, Aria. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

  I didn’t want to. God help me, I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to see because then it would mean—