Everything I Have (Everything I Want #3)

by Natalie Barnes

  “Sorry, I was meaning to bring it to your manager, but I couldn’t find him,” she shrugs. “We had a very special fan stop by the station the day before yesterday and dropped that off. They knew we would be live here today. Anyways, I’m so sorry for just stopping you like this, but I just wanted to give that to you since we told him that we would.”

  Feeling the thickness through the envelope with my fingers, I nod back at her.

  “No problem, thank you.”

  I lift the envelope up with one hand as she beams back at me. I shake her hand before she takes off again. That’s kind of weird. Fans usually see us when they give gifts to us. Certain things do have to go through Lux or someone else. I wonder what it is?

  I finally walk up to my dressing room door and pause as I hear the sound of music playing faintly. Placing my ear against the door, I use my free hand to cup my mouth as I hear Frankie singing All That She Wants by Ace of Base. Oh my God! That’s too fucking funny. I push open the door and his back is facing me as he lays certain pieces down on the folding table in front of him. He spins around, smiling at me.

  “Hey, girl!”

  “Yep,” is all I say back as I make my way to the chair. I’m pretty tired already and I just need a breather before I embark on 'Frankieness'. He must sense my mood because he giggles at me.

  “Just gonna grab a couple things out of the bathroom. Be right back.”

  The sound of his boots goes clicking across the concrete floor.

  I’m still holding onto the envelope. Flipping it over, I run my fingers across the back, tearing the paper open. I figure I might as well check this out while I wait out for Frankie. Using my fingers to separate the envelope, I pinch the thick piece of paper inside, pulling it out slowly so I don’t rip it. Turning it over, I lose my breath as my eyes begin to burn with tears.

  Chapter Four

  Sophia

  I can’t believe what I’m seeing. This has to be the best fucking thing any fan has ever given me. It’s a drawing of Dollar Settlement. Cory is at the top of the page, drawn with tattered angel wings spreading over all of us. His head is bent with his hands clasped together as if he were praying. The shadowing and shading are done flawlessly. It has me lying on my side on this Victorian sofa with my arm bent, holding up my head while my other arm drapes over my hips. I'm wearing a long, vintage, floor-length dress. Maybe they went a little overboard with my chest size. The rest of my guys are standing or crouching all around me wearing torn up suits with old script bleeding, 'Dollar Settlement' across the bottom of the page.

  “Whatcha looking at?” Frankie bends over my shoulder to get a peek. “Whoa,” he breathes. Wiping away a tear, I smile down at the amazing artwork.

  “Girl, this is unbelievable!" He points down at the drawing. "You need to get this framed.”

  “I know.”

  After checking it out for a moment longer trying to find initials or anything that might indicate who did this amazing sketch, I carefully slide it back into the envelope. Wiping my eyes one more time, I spin in the chair to face Frankie. I quirk my eyebrow up at him.

  “So, what’s this little idea you had?”

  His mouth goes into a tight smile before he steps back. Shrugging his shoulders as he flips his blond hair over his shoulder, he spins around and grabs a bottle off the table

  “I figure you will probably have to go out tonight,” he says with his back turned to me. “You know, put up with appearances and such with the twitters and Instagrams, what have you,” he continues sarcastically as he turns around, motioning with his hand at the end.

  My eyebrows pinch together.

  “Yeah…”

  “Well, everyone is used to you partying. Shit, girl. You party harder than most men, so if you go out there tonight and you’re not drinking or smoking, that right there is gonna send up some red flags.”

  He chuckles at himself as I shake my head at him.

  “What?” He rolls his eyes, still grinning. “Honey, for everyone to not know something is up yet…” He points his manicured finger up, obviously knowing that I can’t keep this a secret for long. “You must act the same way you did before.”

  “Frankie, I’m not drinking or smoking"

  “Duh!” he interrupts me, his eyes wide, looking at me as if I just said the most ridiculous thing there is. Which by the way, I guess I kind of did, but what the fuck is he getting at?

  Placing his hand on his hip, he pops it out to the side.

  “You need to be a teenager again.”

  Huh?

  “You know,” he motions with his other hand at me as he goes on.

  “Girl, you gotta fake drunk!”

  I bust up laughing in his face while he just runs his hands through his hair, clearly getting a little agitated with me. He shoves a bottle of Bombay on my lap.

  “Don’t worry, it’s just water.”

  What the fuck?

  “Before you freak, I spent the last half an hour running hot as fuck water in it to clean it out. Oh, and don’t worry…I made me a little cocktail so I wouldn’t waste.”

  He picks up a glass with a little stirrer and gives it a quick twirl before placing his lips around the thin straw and taking a drink.

  “Yummy,” he says to the glass before looking back at me.

  My eyes scan from his to the bottle and back to his again.

  “How can I fake drunk, Frankie? Not all young girls do that, just so you know. When I did do it, it was always the real thing.”

  “Well, Sophia, you’re something else, because all the prep girls from my school just carried around the same beer all night.”

  He starts giggling, his lips pushing against his teeth as he tries to finish his story.

  “Like this one time, me and Doug Fischer, oh, God, he was so cute! Anyway,” he shakes his head to stop his thoughts from running away what he was currently talking about. “We marked this girl’s… I think her name was Chelsea or something like that. We used this black marker and did a faint little dot at the bottom of her beer.” He uses his thumb and index finger to show me the size of the dot he did. “So, that night when everyone started getting buzzed, she was acting all cray cray and sucking dick and shit saying she was wasted. Come to find out, it was still the same fucking beer!”

  His laughter echoes around the small room and I laugh with him.

  “Gawd, Frankie.”

  He throws his arms down.

  “What? It was so funny!”

  “So you want me to carry this bottle around all night and pretend I’m drunk? How the fuck does someone pretend they’re drunk?”

  “Girl, just keep smiling. It’s your telltale sign of when you’re buzzed. The drunker you get, the harder it is to see your eyes because your cheekbones are always pushed up with the constant grin you wear.”

  Damn. This is so fucked up, but I’m not ready to let this out yet, so…

  “Fuck it. Whatever,” I shrug in defeat.

  Frankie bounces up and down, clapping his hands together and squealing.

  “Yay! This is gonna be so much fun!”

  Rolling my eyes at him, I stand up, placing the envelope with the picture in my large bag beside me.

  “No it’s not,” I mumble as I zip up the bag.

  He points his thumb behind his shoulder.

  “Your clothes for tonight are right over there. Since it is only a matter of time, you might as well wear as many tight pieces right now as you can.” He coos at me, his eyes are bright. Patting him on the back as I walk by him, I pick up the pieces and make my way for the bathroom.

  After changing into some tight as hell black leather pants and a barely there white t-shirt, I run my fingers through my hair. It's kind of tangled down at the ends since I was banging my head a lot while performing, but not too much for Frankie to fix.

  Looking into the mirror before I head out, I sigh. I can’t believe I have to fake fucking drunk tonight. This is so ridiculous. Okay, just do what Frankie said. S
mile. Okay, easy enough, I guess. Staring at my reflection, I fix up the widest fake smile I can and I freaking scare myself. My face drops. I so don’t want to do this. That look alone is pretty fucked up in a, 'that looks dumb' way. Shit.

  Taking a deep breath, I pull the door open. Frankie is outside, sitting in the chair I was just in, sipping his gin cocktail. Oblivious to me coming in, he's humming to himself, stirring his drink. Not saying anything, I stand here still ’til Frankie lifts his eyes to me.

  “Holy shit, girl!”

  He drops his straw. Giving him a half smirk, I shrug my shoulders.

  “What? You've had me wearing way less than this.”

  I actually don’t mind these clothes. The pants are a little uncomfortable, but the shirt isn’t bad. It’s just showing a sliver of my stomach. Frankie lifts himself off the chair and starts walking toward me with his arms open.

  “Girl, you’re so beautiful…”

  “Frankie, are you sure you aren’t the one with the hormones?” I laugh back at him.

  I look the same as I always do. Frankie is so sensitive, I swear to God. Frankie steps up in front of me and dips his fingers into his glass, then starts flicking the alcohol on me. Like, everywhere.

  “Hold still,” he says.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I try to grab his hand but he’s too fucking quick for me.

  “You need to smell like booze for this plan to work. Just hold still.”

  “No!” I screech back at him.

  “Oh, stop being so dramatic.”

  Frankie leans in more with his drink, dipping his fingertips in the cool liquid before flicking them against my chest and shirt, like a priest would do with holy water at a Mass.

  Right in the middle of me laughing and screaming at Frankie to stop, a loud pound hits the door once before it flies open. I pause with Frankie in the middle of sprinkling me with the booze. Tristan pushes the door open, his eyebrows lifted and the corner of his mouth raised in a smirk.

  “Ah… hi?” His deep voice comes out in a rough chuckle.

  “Hey, Tristy!”

  Frankie smiles at him, still leaning over me with my hands firmly gripping his wrists. Letting go of him suddenly, I brush my hands down my front and smile up at Tristan. Fuck! Okay, I know I can’t “fake” drunk yet cause it’s still too early, but what the fuck do I do?

  “Nice job tonight.”

  He looks from the gin bottle, to me, to Frankie, and back to me. He leans against the wall, folding his arms over his chest and nodding his chin at me.

  “You still gonna crash?”

  Frankie bats his eyelashes at Tristan before giving me a sneaky smirk. Little shit.

  “Oh, she’s so going out tonight, that’s for sure.”

  “You are?”

  Tristan's eyebrows knit together in confusion. I was pretty distant earlier from the “news.” I wasn’t lying when I said I felt like shit, but Frankie is right. Right now, I gotta keep up appearances. Gotta keep it cool for just a bit longer.

  “Yeah,” I shrug my shoulders. “What the hell, right?”

  Tristan pushes himself off the wall and stalks toward me. I swear I just heard Frankie gasp as Tristan grabs the back of my head with his hand before he crashes his mouth down on mine. Breathing him in as his mouth devours mine, everything else fades away and I have to stop myself because I’m about two seconds from pulling down my pants before I realize that Frankie is still here.

  “Tristan…” I breathe, but he ignores me and continues with this kiss, his tongue fervent.

  Fuck. I love this.

  Finally, I push off his chest slightly. His eyes are still closed as he pulls himself away, catching his breath. When he opens them, they’re like deep, dark pools. Grabbing my wrist, he pulls me into his chest again.

  “One fucking hour,” he rasps back at me and I know. I already know that I only have one hour to mingle with whoever before he comes and finds me, and fucks me…and I can’t fucking wait.

  Tristan lets go of my wrist then heads out, shutting the door behind him. Still gawking at the closed door, Frankie lets out a sigh.

  “Damn, girl.” A grin dances on my face ’til Frankie’s words wipe it off completely.

  “Okay, where were we? Oh, yeah. Here, take this bottle.”

  Looking over my shoulder at him, I see Frankie’s bony arm stretch out, handing me that stupid gin bottle of water at me. Shaking my head, I stare back at the closed door.

  “Nah, Frankie.”

  “That’s fucking stupid. They will all know it’s just water anyways.”

  Frankie does this 'psst' sound with his mouth as he comes up from behind me. He takes hold of my shoulders and faces me to him.

  “Sophia, please…your boys are so dumb right now, you could have orange fucking Kool-Aid in there,” he makes his hand into a gun and points at the gin bottle, “And they still would fucking think you are drinking gin.”

  The corner of his mouth lifts up and I know that, sadly, he’s fucking right. But the thing that kind of tears at my heart is, I would be there just as stupid with my boys if I wasn’t pregnant.

  I feel so guilty for not being excited right now. There are so many fucked up emotions running through my head right now that it’s so hard to just focus on one. Is it bad that right now, I wish I could be living it up with my boys instead of being knocked up? Yes, it is, I guess, but that’s how my brain is fucking working right now. It’s so messed up.

  He starts giggling at me as I reluctantly take the bottle from him.

  “Give me five minutes, hon,” he winks at me before he spins around and heads for the bathroom, speaking over his shoulder at me as he walks away. “Gotta bring sexy back.”

  ************

  Out to Get You by Blood Simple is pouring through the speakers as we hang out at the house of one of Lux’s associates. Not as extravagate as Lux’s place in Hawaii, but still really nice. This place is more on the modern side, with large glass windows and pale walls. Vibrant paintings hang throughout the house. The house is big, with an open second floor, but has too much of a “staged” feel for me, as if the owners never really stay here themselves.

  All of our bands are here, along with a couple extra that are signed with the label that were playing today. But there’s also all the roadies and techs, and let’s not forget what really makes all tours go round... the groupies. Frankie places his hand in between my shoulder blades as he pushes me through the foyer.

  “Let the games begin,” he says teasingly as he grins down at me.

  Frankie is already a pretty tall dude, but when he wears his heeled boots, he’s almost as tall as Tristan. Laughing up at him, I just love it. He doesn’t give a shit.

  “Wanna do a shot?” he asks excitedly, giving my upper arm a fast rub.

  “Oh, okay…” I finish sarcastically. Frankie gives me a quick glare before his the corners of his eyes crinkle as his smirk widens.

  “You know what, Sophia…I bet you could fool everyone here tonight about being drunk with one thing.” He dances his index finger in front of my face. “How about I put on some Cherry Pie and you do the rest?” He shoulder bumps me, shit smirking.

  I push his hand away, laughing at him.

  “Fuck you!”

  “Come on.” He nudges me again as we walk up to the bar that’s just off the patio. He stops suddenly and looks down at his phone, the glow of the screen lights up his face as we step out back.

  “We only have like, a matter of minutes before Tristan fucks your brains out."

  I feel my cheeks warm at Frankie’s words, both from everyone within a perimeter of a few feet hearing him say “fuck my brains out,” and from knowing damn well Tristan will.

  “Fuck, Frankie!” I whisper yell at him as he approaches the bar, using his body as a shield to hide my embarrassment.

  “Um, yeah, hey…” Frankie mumbles to the bartender.

  I push off of Frankie’s back when he takes a step back from the bar, grabbi
ng his drink. Twirling his straw around in the burgundy liquid, I can only guess he's ordered his signature Cosmopolitan. He gestures with his hand around the vast room.

  “So…where’re the boys at?”

  “Frankie…” I whine at him, waving the obnoxious bottle in his face. “I don’t want to carry around this fucking bottle all night.” “If I was fucking on the bus, maybe, or camping, I could get away with it.”

  Stopping suddenly, I realize I was being a little loud. I doubt anyone heard me, but I’m still paranoid.

  “But not here,” I whisper to him.

  He stares back at me, his smile gone for the moment. A genuine smile sweeps his lips and already, I begin to relax. He just has that something that pulls me back down.

  “You sweet thing.” He cups my cheek. “No one is gonna care. Everyone here has seen much worse.”

  He smiles at me, dropping his hand so he can hold his straw as he brings his drink back up to his mouth. He takes another sip before speaking again.

  “You’re having a baby, Sophia.” He leans down and whispers in my ear. He leans back, but still quietly goes on.“Shit’s gonna change, but girl…it’s gonna be okay.”

  I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling right here in this fucking loud house, mansion, or whatever. I don’t want anyone to know I’m about to lose my shit. Frankie wraps his left arm around me, pulling me into his side and then kissing me on top of my head.

  “So anyway, I have the perfect setup for Europe. I’m thinking, heavy metal. You know, the old school cartoon and shit." He nods to my chest, not skipping a beat. "Since you may start to show, I have to focus on the gun show to keep everyone's attention off your midriff.”

  “Fuck, do you think I’ll be showing by then?”

  I didn’t even think of it. I’m no doctor or anything, but I’m guessing I’m at least a few weeks. I could be over a month if you go back to our first time. Nah, there’s no way I should be showing, but Frankie did point out about my already sized outfits feeling snug. Like bloating or some shit, he said. I still have almost a couple months to go.