The days that I had the hardest time with the fact that I wasn’t safe around prescription pills anymore were the same days my back decided to remind me that my body wasn’t quite as strong as it had been several years ago. Now, when the reminders of my car accident flared up, I found safer alternatives for pain relief.
A poor choice on my part to drink and drive about six years ago changed my life. I’d decided to drive home from a party at an old friend’s place. It was only a twenty minute drive to my house, and I thought I’d be okay because it was just down two nearly deserted rural roads. I’d made it about three miles from his place when a deer ran out in front of my car. My reaction time was slowed down due to all of the alcohol in my system. I swerved to miss the animal and lost control of my vehicle. The reports said I was doing approximately fifty-five miles per hour when I hit a tree head on. I ended up fracturing my back and breaking my wrist. I was very lucky I hadn’t ended up paralyzed or dead.
Two back surgeries and months of physical therapy put me back on the stage. The copious amounts of pain killers that were prescribed to me became my downfall. Without the medicine, I couldn’t move without pain…I couldn’t function. When the doctors stopped writing the prescriptions, I thought I would be okay, but I wasn’t.
Taylor introduced me to the guy he bought his cocaine from and I bought a bag containing one hundred of the same pills I’d been taking for my back. As the weeks passed, I found that I needed more. At one point, I was taking about thirty or so pills in a twenty-four hour period.
That lasted for three years.
The night I started puking blood in the hotel bathroom in Las Vegas, someone called an ambulance and I was taken to the local hospital. After running tests to check for drugs in my system, I was told that if I didn’t stop taking the pills and mixing them with whatever substances I could put into my body…I would die.
No one knew that in the early morning hours after I arrived at the hospital, our good friend, Ash Martin, the lead singer for Glory Days, showed up at my bedside with an offer. He said that he would get us all into a drug rehabilitation program with no questions asked, but he had one condition; we all had to drop off the tour and leave immediately. It didn’t take us long to make the right decision. I didn’t even have to talk to my band mates. The look of desperation in their eyes was what did it for me. We had to stop the destructive path we were on, plain and simple. We took his offer, had a statement released, and left for a private program in southern California within hours of my arrival in the emergency room.
Those first few days were the worst. I made a vow to myself that I would never take another pill…never again. The detox my body endured was horrific and I wouldn’t want to ever experience that again. I was such a mess that I refused to leave my room. I didn’t want Cash or Taylor to see me. I knew they’d been suffering with their own recovery at the time, but I just wasn’t fit for company, not even from my two best friends.
I lived with the guilt of my choices every day of my life. I’d learned to forgive myself while in recovery. I didn’t have family to support me, so I had to support myself. All I had from my youth was a promise to the woman who’d raised me at the foster home. She’d told me to stay true to myself the day I left New Mexico when I was eighteen years old. The state had put me out, not caring what happened after I was no longer their concern.
“You guys ready?” Coraline called out as she climbed the stairs onto the bus. She frowned as she walked forward, her brow crinkling. “You okay?” She whispered the question, but my eyes still drifted over to where Cash and Braxton were looking at something over Taylor’s shoulder. I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even realize everyone had boarded the bus.
“Yeah,” I nodded, plastering on a smile just to keep her off my back. “I’m good.”
“Okay,” she said, resting her hand on my forearm. “If you need anything…”
“I know,” I interrupted, jutting my chin out toward the front of the bus. “Let’s go.”
“Alright, you guys,” Cora began. “Looks like the rain has let up for now. There’s a truck parked on the other side of the Witch’s Spawn bus. Liam is going to drive us, God help us all.” Everyone chuckled as Taylor picked Cora up, throwing her over his beefy shoulder.
The buses were parked side by side, with Witch’s Spawn’s bus between ours and the back entrance to the arena. When I stepped off the bus and came around toward the awaiting SUV, their lead singer, Presley, was just exiting the doors. She was wearing a pair of tight, faded jeans and a black, ribbed razorback shirt that stretched impressively across her ample breasts.
“Now, that’s a fine woman right there,” Cash whistled, nudging me as he passed where I stood gaping at her. Her boots clipped along the asphalt as she made her way toward her bus. She was staring at her phone, her brow pinched from whatever she was seeing. Movement to my right had my gaze turning toward Garrison, her bassist, as he stepped quickly out of their bus and headed straight for her.
“Come on, Ace,” Coraline barked. “We’re going to be late!”
“I’m coming!” I replied, grumbling about impatience under my breath.
Presley looked up quickly from her phone and ignored her band mate, our eyes catching for a brief moment before she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. I could’ve sworn I saw a dusting of pink across her high cheekbones. I might’ve been mistaken, too.
Once inside the SUV, I glanced in the side mirror, watching her and Garrison talking adamantly about whatever she was looking at on her phone. It looked as though she was tired and frustrated with whatever he was hounding her about. Part of me wanted to get out and step between them, protecting her from his outburst. The other part of me said to leave it alone. Presley Pittman wasn’t mine, and I sure as hell didn’t need any complications in my life.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, I saw her turn around, quickly making her way back into the building. Her long, brown hair blew around in the breeze just as raindrops started to fall on the windshield.
Yeah, that was none of my concern.
Chapter 2
Presley
“When are you going to be home?” my mom asked as I answered the phone.
“Not for a while,” I replied, tilting my head back so I could look at the ceiling of the green room. I knew I shouldn’t have answered the phone, but I had. “What’s up?”
“I was hoping you could stop by the house if you come through Denver,” she said, sweetly. “We’d like to see you.” Bullshit.
“Where’s dad?” I asked, trying my best not to spat out his name. I knew she wouldn’t be calling if he was within earshot.
The one dumbass move on my part was going back to visit them six months after I’d left. Mom had found me, saying they were moving to Denver and that they wanted to leave on good terms. I, like the idiot I was, went to the place that held so much pain and fear throughout my life and made amends with my parents.
My mother had become the peacemaker over the past couple of years and my father just sneered at me when I would pass through Denver for a visit. At one point, he’d laughed at me from the couch when I’d told my mom that I had started this new band, saying that I was an idiot for thinking anything I did would be successful. That was just over a year ago, and I hadn’t been back since.
“He’s not here right now,” she sighed. “You know he loves you, right?”
“And this is where I hang up now,” I ground out through my clenched teeth. “I’ll call you.”
“Presley…” she whined, but I hit the button on my phone, disconnecting the call before she could say anything else.
Running my hands through my hair, I pulled my hair tie from it and hastily shook out the messy curls. Getting frustrated by my parents was something I’d trained myself not to do. I’d done very well over the years, but it seemed like here lately, it bothered me more than it should. Hell, I’d been out on my own for eleven years now. I’d dealt with my issues and came o
ut the other end a stronger person. How I got there was another story.
For the first few years, I hid my fear and uncertainty behind drugs and alcohol. When I got to the point that I was strung out and had nothing to show for it, I realized I was falling into the same addictions my father suffered from. I got myself clean, started an all-girl band, and toured the country. When that venture went south and the band broke up, I found a gig working as a singer in an upscale lounge in New York City. It wasn’t until three years ago that I decided I wanted to play rock music again.
Brian, Drake, Garrison, and I had forged a bond over the years that could probably never be broken. They were my brothers…my family. They’d seen me at my best and at my worst, and they still loved me no matter what, holding me up when my life wanted to crumble around me.
Hearing the door to the room open, I schooled my features and hoped like hell the guys didn’t notice my shaking hands or the frustrated look I knew was on my face. Garrison was the first to notice the phone in my hand.
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling me into a brotherly hug. “Did your dad call you?”
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, it was mom.” I never could get anything past these guys. They knew me too damn well.
“Damn,” Drake and Brian said simultaneously.
Garrison Yates, the oldest of our group, was my protector more than the others. It was his home that I rushed to that night I’d finally made my escape from hell. It was Garrison that found me passed out the next day and got me medical help for the concussion I’d suffered at my father’s hands. And it was Garrison who swore I was under his protection from that day forth. It all worked out that we ended up making music together, and I had Drake and Brian there to ease my fears and wipe my tears away when I would break down after calls from home.
Yes, I was stronger than I had been back then. Something inside me snapped and I came alive with my own power over my abuse. I’d sworn to never let my father run my life, and for the most part, he hadn’t. The only problem I dealt with was the fact that my mother stayed with him.
She was dependent on him on so many levels and he damn well took advantage of that. Throw some money at her and she would do anything he wanted. I loved my mom, but she was happy living in that toxic environment. He’d brainwashed her for the past thirty-three years, telling her that she was too stupid to be able to live on her own. Oh, and the classic: she was nothing without him. She’d left him once, having had me help her pack all of her things one week when he was out of town on business.
She returned to him two months later.
That was when I threw my hands in the air and gave her one last warning about staying with an alcoholic and an abuser. There was only so much you could do for someone that didn’t want to help themselves. My only hope was that she would wake up one day and finally see how he’d torn apart our family with his bullshit.
“I’m fine,” I said, holding up one of my hands.
“We know,” Brian sighed, heavily. “It’s hard for us to see you upset.”
“I’m thirty years old,” I laughed. “I think I can handle my emotions better than I did when I was nineteen.” Okay, so I played it off as a joke, but we all knew that I was being defensive. I didn’t like to be coddled, but they didn’t care and did it anyway.
“Yes, you can.” Garrison smiled, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. “I’m going to head out to the bus for a bit. Let me know when you are ready to warm up.”
“Thanks,” I nodded. Garrison knew when to give me space and I was thankful that he’d gotten the hint.
I plugged my headphones in and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. As I relaxed, I lazily thumbed through my music, stopping when I heard something that inspired me for the performance I’d be doing later that evening. Hearing certain songs put me into the roll I played on stage. About the third song in, I smiled to myself when I heard Ace Ryker belt out the beginning of their song, “Hysterical”.
I’d been a fan of the band for years now and when we were given a chance to tour with them, I jumped at the offer. Yes, Fatal Cross had had their fair share of problems a few years ago, but who in this industry hadn’t? They’d also publically announced that their band was going on a lengthy hiatus to get themselves clean. They’d posted a message to their fans that they would come back with a vengeance, promising an album to rival all of their others, and that was exactly what they did.
Two and a half years after they’d stepped out of rehab clean and sober, the band proved that with hard work and determination, they could hit the top ten on the charts. Their newest album just reached number one, throwing them into instant stardom. They were well known before, but now they were all the rage. Our shows had been sold out since we started this tour, and I was thankful they’d asked us to support them this time around.
A chime in my ear had me looking down at my phone. I cringed when I read the message…
Don’t expect your mother to be at your concert. I wouldn’t let her come even if it were free. When are you going to grow up and get a real job?
Standing up, I quickly hurried out the door so I could get some fresh air. I really hated when he would send me these messages. Why the hell couldn’t he just leave me alone? The thing that hurt the most was that my mother couldn’t keep it to herself that she’d called me. I was sure my hanging up on her was the reason my father sent that message.
As I exited the building, I glared at my phone, wondering if I should reply, but knowing I shouldn’t. It would only cause problems for my mom.
“Come on, Ace,” Coraline barked, startling me from my musings. “We’re going to be late!”
“I’m coming!” Ace hollered. Our eyes met across the parking lot and I felt my cheeks heat up as he smiled at me. Just the corner of his mouth kicked up into a naughty grin. I tucked my hair behind my ear to give myself something to do with my hands.
He looked amazing today. His brown curls were pulled back into a tight ponytail at the back of his head. Usually, he kept them loose so that they made a short curtain around his beautiful face. His hair barely touched his shoulders and I wondered if it was as soft as it looked. I imagined it was, because all of the women at the meet and greets along each stop liked to run their hands through his hair when they would stand next to him for a photograph.
Oh, he liked that attention, too. I’d seen that man shamelessly flirt with every woman that came within touching distance. He’d talked to them and let them rub their nasty bodies all over him ever since we’d stepped foot on this tour. The only thing I didn’t see was him taking them out to the bus for a little one on one time. As much of a flirt as he was, at least he had some morals.
“Hey,” Garrison gasped as he exited the bus, rushing to my side. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” I sighed. “I’m…uh, I was just heading to get something off the bus.”
Garrison looked down at my hands and cursed loudly when he saw my father’s name on the open text. “Give me your phone.”
“No,” I growled, pulling my hand back so he couldn’t snatch my phone. “It’s nothing, Garrison. I promise.”
“He’s fucking with your head, baby girl,” he supplied, leaning closer so he could look in my eyes. “Don’t let him get to you. You know better than that, and don’t lie to me, telling me you are fine. You’re not. I can see it in your eyes.”
“It bothers me,” I said, raising my hands and letting them fall at my sides in frustration. “Why does he do this shit to me? I mean, what does it matter what I’m doing? He has no say so over my life and still he tries to get inside my head every chance he can get.”
“He has issues so fucked up, no amount of help will get him straight. Your father has some deep-seated mental problems. They are not your issues to try and correct, either. Haven’t we discussed this before? Stay away from him and keep contact to a minimum. Everything he says or does is all a game to him. He doesn’t want to see you come out on top because he f
eels that is where he belongs.”
“I know,” I said in defeat.
“You are so much stronger than you were back then, Presley,” he admitted. “But each and every time he sends you a message, your father knows he’s keeping you under his thumb. He’s still trying to control you.”
“How do I stop it?” I asked, looking to him for help.
“You show that son of a bitch that you have your life and your career under control,” he offered. “You bust your ass out there every night on that stage, baby girl, and then you give it another ten thousand percent. Don’t do it for him. Do it for you.”
He was right. Garrison was always right when it came to anything regarding my family. Whatever my father did…it always affected me. In some way or another, he would say or do something to chip away at my hard exterior. He was a narcissist and, for some reason, he hated me. Daddy dearest thought he was the top of the food chain and anytime someone succeeded in doing something greater than him, he would do anything to take them down.
“Why does it hurt so bad?” I whispered, raising my face to the sky. Tiny raindrops landed on my lashes, washing away a few tears that had gathered at the corners of my eyes.
“It will hurt until you finally let them go,” he explained, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Once you cut off the toxic relationship you have with them, you will start living the life you were meant to live.”
“It’s like he’s tempting me to show up at the house,” I said, biting my lip in frustration.
“That is the last place you need to be going,” he growled, pulling me toward the back of the venue and out of the rain. “Sometimes those temptations can be fatal, Presley. Just try to let it go and don’t worry about Denver. We have your back and won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know.” I smiled, wrapping my arms tightly around my best friend. “I know.”
“Now, get out there tonight and give that crowd your best,” he said, giving me a tight squeeze before letting me go. I felt better having my best friend helping me decipher everything that was rolling around in my head.
Fatal Temptations (Fatal Cross Live! Book 2) Page 2
