Gone Guy (Sand & Fog Series Book 5)

by Susan Ward

  “I didn’t borrow money from Willow for the phone.”

  I want to tell him to fuck off, but it’s not like I can deny having borrowed some money from Willow. Our date yesterday. Our Uber rides. I’m sure I’m racking up a nice tab to repay her. But what makes me different is I can repay her and intend to, no matter what Gary and Jade think.

  I gesture to my cell box sitting on the counter. “Is there any way I can use my own phone number on that thing and get my contacts put in it.”

  Gary’s expression lightens up. “Do you have your SIM card?”

  “If I had that, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

  “Call your mobile carrier. They should be able to help you out.”

  Taking my phone, I go to Willow’s bedroom. Time for Eric to get back on the grid.

  Two hours later, my number’s been transferred, my contacts downloaded from the cloud, but none of my fucking financial apps will work. I don’t know the passwords. I’ve never had to log into them to get money before.

  Joey better come through selling that coke. It’s going to cost over two hundred dollars to take a bus home and that’s with it being a four-day trip. Worse, I can’t book a reservation online without a credit card and there’s nothing available until next week.

  That won’t work. I need to get home fast, talk things out with Ethan so we’re solid again, sign my contract with the label, then get back here for my watch by Sunday.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Eric

  I SLAP SHUT WILLOW’S laptop. No matter how many internet searches I make, I can’t find a way to get to Los Angeles by Friday.

  There’s nothing left to do.

  I check the clock. Willow’s been at the hospital three hours. I don’t know how long her and Jade usually visit their father.

  I definitely don’t want her walking in on this call, hearing the fucked-up way me and my dad communicate. It’s never been easy between us. I’m not sure why. He gets along great with Ethan. No problem with my sisters. But we’ve always been like water and oil, and it’s never going to change.

  I go into my contacts and hit the call icon for my dad. I put it on speaker. One ring. Two rings. It’s my number on the caller ID. He knows it’s me. Fuck, answer. Don’t drag this out, Dad.

  “Yes.”

  Short, clipped. It’s how my dad always answers the phone, but it makes me tense anyway. I exhale. “Hey, Dad.” I wait, but there’s no greeting back. I shake my head. “We haven’t talked in a while. I thought I’d check in. See how you’re doing.”

  A long pause. Fuck, that came out wrong.

  “I’m well. How are you, Eric?”

  “All right, I guess.”

  There. That’s an opening to asking me what’s wrong. Instead he says, “Where are you?”

  My brows lift. He asked like he doesn’t know. Fuck, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe Khloe didn’t tell him anything. No need to fill him in on the humiliating details about Hugh and the guys ditching me here. “Seattle. I lost my cell, wallet, and ID, and got stranded here with no money and no way to call anyone. I’ve been here since Friday.”

  “That’s a tough situation—”

  I stare at the phone—tough situation? What kind of comment is that to finding out your son is a thousand miles away with nothing but lint in his pockets?

  “How are you managing?” Alan asks.

  “I’ve been staying with friends. I think you’d like them.”

  “Why would I like them?”

  Something in his voice makes me frown. “They’re good people.”

  “New friends or old friends?”

  What’s with the third degree? I hear sounds through the phone. He’s walking. I must have caught him somewhere in the house Mom is.

  “New friends. I met them this trip.”

  There’s a groan of a door opening then I hear a click. The snap of a lighter precedes a hiss of air. He’s smoking. He’s either in his recording studio at the house or outside on the patio. Either way, he’s gone somewhere Mom can’t hear.

  “I would have thought reaching out to your brother would have been more of a priority than hanging out with your friends or calling me.”

  I tense. Now that Mom can’t hear us, Alan’s unfailing British politeness will soon be done. Not all at once, in slow unraveling waves, but done.

  “I didn’t think it was the right move to make, trying to explain by phone. I plan to talk to Ethan when I get home.”

  “You’re concerned about making the right move? I’m so relieved you’re concerned with Ethan’s feelings in this. But I would have thought you’d have known hooking up with your brother’s girlfriend while he’s away at college is also not the right move to make.”

  That’s right, go for my jugular with your voice dripping with banality. My temper explodes. “With all due respect, Dad, I’m twenty years old. This is between Ethan and me. I’m not talking to you about it. And I think it’s fucked you’re taking sides in it. Jesus Christ, you’re my dad, too.”

  “I’m being your dad here, Eric. You just don’t like the dad I’m being. And twenty or not, I will always be your father.”

  Through the speaker comes a longer hiss of air. He took in a deep puff from his cig that time. He’s trying not to get angry, but he wants to blow up.

  “Hugh dropped your jacket at home yesterday. I thought I’d hear from you before now, given the issues unfolding in your life.”

  Unbelievable. My fingers claw in my hair. “Why the fuck did you pretend you didn’t know where I am or what happened? Do you just get off giving me a hard time every chance you get?”

  “Your mother was in the room when I answered the phone.” His voice is now clipped and angry. “You’ve given her enough worry. She doesn’t need to hear any of this.”

  I feel a sharp punch in my gut at the mention of Mom, then my thoughts circle back. A chill runs my spine. “What do you mean issues unfolding in my life?”

  “Hugh’s under the impression there’s some kind of issue with the band bank account. He tried to pay for a dinner bill in Seattle and there wasn’t enough to cover it. He claims the money from the summer tour is gone. He came to me and asked me to take care of it.”

  Oh fuck. Is that why the guys ditched me at Mel’s? “It’s nothing, Dad. Hugh took one and one and came up with nine again. It’s no big deal. I’ll handle it.”

  “Your friends thinking you’re ripping them off is a very big deal.”

  My face heats. “That’s right. Believe the worst about Eric before you talk to me. You couldn’t just maybe suggest he call Henry Weinberg and get an accounting from our business manager? No, that would be too easy. Not jumping to conclusions and finding out that the tour didn’t make money, that I had to cover expenses for promotions and most of the travel. No, it’s more fun thinking something shitty about me.”

  “I didn’t believe it, Eric. I worried it. There’s a difference.” His voice has changed. Intense. Concerned. “It’s not jumping to conclusions to be worried. First getting blindsided by you and Tara. Unable to grasp how you could do that to your own brother. Then hearing from Hugh that money’s missing and you’re using again. What was I supposed to think?”

  My throat convulses. “I’m not using, Dad. I’m clean.”

  “The guys told me you were packing your nose the entire trip to Seattle. Then just disappeared on them.”

  Fuck. “I did a few lines to keep awake. We drove up here eighteen hours straight because Hugh refused to fly, then into the rehearsal space we booked and twenty hours of lousy drummers. I was fucking dead on my feet. It’s no big deal. And I didn’t disappear to score, if that’s what Hugh told you. I was with a girl. That’s all, Dad. I’m telling you the truth. You and Mom don’t have to worry about me. I’ve got everything under control.”

  “You can’t cheat sobriety, Eric. There is no under control. There’s only using and not. I don’t like w
hat I’ve been seeing from you since you’ve been offered a contract by a label. Thoughtless and over the top, writing checks against a career you haven’t got yet. How you handle things with people in your life is as important as what you do. That thing with Tara. You should have faced your brother like a man. He should have heard it from you. You wouldn’t have hurt him less, but I would have respected you for it. You might also have explained to Hugh that the tour didn’t make money, been upfront, and saved yourself a lot of grief. As long as you try to manipulate and cover up in your life, you’ll never be anything more than an addict not using.”

  It feels like a knife has gone through my stomach. “I get what you’re saying, Dad. Really, I do. I can’t change what I’ve already done. Can you send up a plane or wire some money to the people I’m staying with? I don’t have ID. You can’t send it to me. Just help me get home. First thing, I’ll talk to Ethan. Face to face. Try to explain why I did what I did. Let him hit me if he has to. Then I’ll work things out with Hugh. But I can’t do shit from Seattle. I need to be home to make things right.”

  Silence again.

  Damn it.

  “I love you, Eric.”

  I close my eyes. Not this again. I already know what he’s going to say.

  “But we had an agreement after rehab. Actions and consequences. I wouldn’t be fixing either of them for you anymore.”

  “How am I supposed to get home, Dad?”

  He clears his throat. “If you want to be a man you need to act like one. That means standing on your own feet, solving your own problems, and never forgetting what’s important. There’s nothing more important than family and the people who care about you. For some reason that doesn’t register with you. No matter what you do in life, it won’t mean shit if you fail the people who love you.”

  “Are you going to wire me money or not?”

  A ragged exhale of breath. “Try listening, Eric. You need to figure out a way on your own how to get home. Then go to your brother and fix what you’ve done. Then go to Hugh and set the record straight with him if you want to salvage your band and the contract with the label. I can’t help you with any of that. You dug this hole. And I have to let you climb out of it on your own.”

  “Dad, can’t you just once yell at me like a normal dad and then help me? I know you’re pissed at me. But you’re my dad and I need a little help.”

  “I’m not angry with you, Eric.”

  Patient, calm, controlled.

  My nerves snap.

  “Fine. Disappointed. Worried. Whatever. Whatever it is you feel right before you let me down over and over again. If family’s so important why is it I always feel like you don’t give a shit what happens to me?”

  “I love you, son.”

  Before I have to hear what comes next, I click off the phone and throw it.

  “Are you OK?”

  I turn on the bed to find Willow standing in the doorway. The way she’s staring at me turns me cold. Fuck, how much of that did she hear?

  I rake back my hair. “I’m fine.” I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Everything OK at the hospital?”

  She frowns then closes the door behind her. “My dad’s going to get to come home probably Saturday.”

  After kicking off her shoes and setting her cross-body bag on the dresser, she comes to the bed and sits on her knees beside me.

  “That’s good news. Why don’t you sound happy about that?” I reach up to trace her cheek with a finger.

  “I am happy.” Her gaze strays to the phone and I can feel she doesn’t want to talk more about whatever happened at the hospital. Her midnight eyes fix on me again. “Was that your dad you were talking to on the phone?”

  “Yeah. Couldn’t you tell by how we talk to each other that we’re father and son? We reek of happy family.”

  “Your dad sounds nice. I love you, son.” She does a pretty good imitation of my dad’s accent. “So much for Ivy and Jade’s theory that you’re not a Brit. It’s in the genes. It’s in the voice. You sound just like him.”

  “Egad, I hope not.” She makes a face at me, and I laugh to shed the last of the aftereffect of dealing with my dad. “And my dad is nice. Ask anyone. Everyone loves my dad.”

  She crinkles her nose. “That doesn’t sound very sincere.”

  “It should. It’s the truth.”

  “Why were you angry with him?”

  If she’s asking that, she must not have heard anything but my dad saying he loves me.

  I shrug. No big deal.

  She lifts a brow. Don’t believe it.

  “Eric, I heard him say he loves you and then something crashed. That’s when I opened the door. Why does your dad saying he loves you make you angry?”

  Those eyes of hers hold mine, unwavering, and I know anything short of the truth she’ll see as a lie. But I don’t want to get into the weeds of this. Not with her. Not with anyone.

  “He’s not sending me any money to get home. I have a meeting in LA on Friday with the label to sign contracts. It could seriously fuck up my future if I miss it. He knows that and won’t lift a finger to help me. He thinks it’s better that I solve my problem on my own.”

  “He didn’t really say that, did he?”

  “Yeah, he did. That’s my old man. Deal with it yourself.” Her eyes soften sympathetically and I pull her down until she’s tucked into my side. I bury my lips in her hair. “I don’t want to talk about my dad anymore.”

  She laces her fingers through mine. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

  “I think I’m all talked out for one night.”

  “That’s not good. You’re going to stop being interesting.”

  Laughing, I turn her beneath me on the bed. “Even when I don’t talk I’m interesting. Admit it.”

  Her lips form a tight line and she shakes her head.

  She’s so sweet and gentle and kind.

  My hands glide down her sides.

  Touching her feels so good.

  I roll my hips so my cock brushes her clit and her eyes flare wide. “Is that interesting?” I whisper, then paint kisses down the side of her neck.

  She shakes her head.

  I unbutton her shirt and brush my thumb across the fabric covering her nipple. “More interesting?”

  “Not the least bit interesting,” she says, her breath hitching when I close my mouth over the nipple I freed. Her fingers sink into my hair. “I know what you’re doing.”

  I peek up at her. “I hope you do.”

  “You’re trying to keep me from asking more questions because you don’t want to tell me about your dad. You’re hiding something from me.”

  It’s the truth, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want this.

  I pull off her shorts and panties.

  I settle between her legs, brushing her lower lips with my thumbs. I breathe out against her clit and she shivers.

  “You could always stop me, Willow.”

  She closes her eyes, and her hips do a small lift. “I could. Or I could let you finish what you started and put you through another interview afterward.”

  I kiss her thigh. “Or not.”

  I run my tongue across her slit.

  She moans.

  God, she looks beautiful on the bed waiting for me to fuck her. I reach into the drawer for a condom. As much as I love the taste of her, I can’t wait another second to be in her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Eric

  I SET MY COFFEE on the floor beside the bed and stretch back against my pillow. “You might as well stop. You’re never going to figure out what it is.”

  Willow’s face snaps up over my cell. “Yes, I will. Though I think you should give me your passcode. It isn’t fair that I gave you mine and you won’t share yours.”

  “Change yours. Don’t tell me. Then it’ll be fair again.”

  She makes an annoyed shake, then taps away. “I think mayb
e Jade’s right.”

  I turn on my hip to face her. “I’m not even going to ask about what. Jade’s never right.”

  Willow does a short laugh that’s half snort. So cute. So her. Like surprising me with coffee and brunch in bed on a Monday. It’s the one day a week the bar’s closed so she doesn’t have to work, and she likes to sleep late, eat in bed, and hang out doing nothing.

  My gaze roves her body. She’s sitting cross-legged bathed in midmorning light, her black hair sleep-tangled and softly framing her face. Her white tank reveals full details of her breasts through the thin cotton, and the only part of her I’d change is the long flannel pajama bottoms. They’re baggy and don’t show me anything.

  Her nose inches upward, an indication that even though I said not asking she’s going to tell me what Jade said anyway. “My sister thinks you have a girlfriend that you haven’t told me about. Frankly, she thinks you generally lie to me about everything.”

  Her gaze meets mine. What do you have to say about that?

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  She plops back on my pillow, her head close to mine. “Why no girlfriend?”

  “Don’t want one.”

  “Are you saying you’re not seeing anyone?”

  “No, didn’t say that. I date lots of girls. None have earned the status yet.”

  “Ohhhh.” She says that in a long, drawn-out way. “None have earned the status. Girls have to earn that status with you.”

  I laugh because her responses are never what I expect. “That’s right. It’s a privileged slot. Lots of girls want it.”

  She makes a face at me. “Exactly how do they earn it?”

  “Don’t know. I haven’t met a girl who has yet.”

  “So basically what you’re telling me is you go out with lots of girls and you’re a failure at dating.”