Stand (Black Addiction Book 3)

by T Gephart

  STAND

  T Gephart

  Published by T Gephart at Smashwords

  Copyright 2016 T Gephart

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  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and scenarios are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Hang Le

  Editing by Perfectly Publishable

  Formatting by Max Effect

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Connect with T

  Books by T

  Then

  It was the calm before the storm.

  Neither of us had spoken about it last night, both too caught up in each other to care what it all meant. He was irresistible and I saw no reason to fight the urge. No matter how many times we drifted apart, we always seemed to end up back together. Maybe it was sheer magnetism, maybe it was his amazing smile? Or maybe it was his delicious well-toned body that did amazing things to mine? It could have been any of those reasons, but mostly it was because of the way he made me feel.

  Happy.

  Some of my best memories featured the man sleeping soundly beside me. And it wasn’t even about the sex, although . . . yeah, his talents weren’t only restricted to the stage. There was just something about him. Something bigger than what he already was, and I knew living in the Bronx and working at Staples wasn’t his destiny.

  Sadly, neither was I.

  International rock sensation Power Station had seen it too, signing up Black Addiction—Max’s band—to be their support act for a huge stadium tour. They’d already wowed the crowds at Madison Square Garden, the other crowds would follow too and then the world would see what I already knew.

  Max Reynolds was a rock star.

  We’d taken a break from each other around three months ago. No messy break up, no drama—just our lives taking us in different directions. It wasn’t a new thing for us, and in some ways, it just worked. But last night wasn’t us getting back together; last night was something else entirely.

  His eyes were shut tight as he slept, completely unaware as I watched him. His perfect lips parted just slightly as the air whistled past. And I knew this would be the last time we could do this; at some point we’d stop the revolving door.

  “Hey.” He slid open an eye, his trademark panty-melting grin not far behind. “You’re awake. Feeling okay?”

  “Yep, I know better than to try and keep up with you and your band.” I couldn’t help but smile back. “How about you? You had a pretty serious commitment with that bottle of Jäger.” Don’t know why I asked; I’d never seen him rocking the next morning regret like most of us did.

  “Never felt better.” He smirked, his fingers trailing up my side, tickling my skin until they reached my breast. His talented fingers palmed me, hinting that he had other things on his mind other than his lack of hangover. “And my only commitment last night was pleasing you. So, tell me . . . how did I do?”

  God, he was smooth.

  He had this uncanny ability to make you feel like you were the only woman in the room, like nothing else mattered, and even if I knew it was temporary, I loved it.

  “I think you got all the confirmation you needed last night.” I grinned as I nestled into his side. “If you want your ego stroked, you’ll have to go elsewhere.”

  “That’s not what I want you to stroke, Beth,” he whispered into my ear, his voice loaded with suggestion.

  “I should probably go.” It’s not that I didn’t want to stay, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know where this would end up. Sleep was not part of that equation.

  “Why? Stay in bed with me.” His muscular, inked arms caged me against his body, the heat between us having nothing to do with the temperature in the room. “I’m almost positive you won’t regret it.”

  I wouldn’t regret it.

  I never would.

  But in my heart I knew that this was the end of the road for the two of us. And as much as I wanted to keep going by his side, he had to walk it alone. How much longer could I stay? A week, a month, a year? He needed to be single. Free to do whatever he wanted to do when that spotlight finally hit him and not wonder if it would have been different without a girlfriend ball-and-chain. I wouldn’t be the source of anyone’s regrets, not least someone as special as Max. He was on the cusp of something great, and I cared too much to hold him back.

  “You need sleep, you have a show tonight.” My hands moved over his chest. “We both know if I stay, there will be no sleep.” I tried in vain to free myself from his arm prison, my attempt laughable as he pulled me closer.

  “Sleep’s overrated.” The words vibrated against my ear as I closed my eyes and remembered the moment. The one that would be the last time in his arms.

  “You might not be dealing with a hangover, but you can’t outrun fatigue. Sleep and I’ll see you when you get back in town.”

  It was a lie, an easy one to tell, knowing that when he came back things would be different. We would be different, and I think deep down he knew it was goodbye.

  “Beth.” His lips pressed against the back of my neck, my short black hair offering me little protection as his hot breath defied logic and gave me goose bumps. “We’ll always end up like this, you and me.”

  Not always, not anymore.

  I didn’t dare say it. More because I didn’t want to hear it even though I knew it was the right thing to do.

  “You going to let me go?” I asked, his arms showing no sign of releasing me

  “For now.” He kissed my neck before loosening his hold and allowing me to sit up.

  “You’re going to do great on this tour; this is what you’ve been waiting for.” I didn’t have to even force the smile on my face, I was genuinely happy for him. “Your life is about to change.”

  “Whatever happens, happens.” His arms flexed and anchored at the back of his neck. “I’m still going to be me, that won’t ever change.”

  “Good.” I fished my T-shirt from the edge of the bed and threw it over my head. “And I’ll be your biggest fan.” It was an easy promise to make; being supportive was something that I planned to continue. And something I could do even if it wasn’t by his side.

  “Just promise you won’t get all weird and start stealing my underwear to sell on eBay.” He watched me as I slid on my own and gr
abbed my jeans from the floor.

  “So, I should put back the pair I have stuffed into my purse?” I turned back to face him as I pulled up my jeans, batting my eyes seductively for effect.

  I hadn’t actually stolen a pair of his boxer briefs, but it was easier than the inevitable so-this-is-where-it-ends that needed to happen.

  “Call me, Beth.” He didn’t hesitate, his eyes looking directly into mine. It was as if he already knew that I probably wouldn’t but wouldn’t push the issue either. It was a weird stalemate, so much left unsaid, but all those words not spoken completely understood.

  “See ya, Max.” I allowed myself one last look at him before scooping up my shoes and shuffling out of the room. The door closed behind me giving me a resting place for a second before I walked out of his house.

  We both needed this. It wasn’t just for him; this was for me too. Together neither of us would reach our full potential, and we owed each other that. I was more than just a bass player’s girlfriend. I was more than a girl with tattoos, funky hair and a short skirt. If I stayed . . . he was too easy to fall in love with.

  There was no sadness when I left; my heart wasn’t breaking. I was excited about what the future held for both of us and while I’d miss him, someday we would both be thankful.

  In time we would both move on, and hopefully when he thought of me, he’d remember good things.

  I would always, when I thought of him.

  Now

  “You know, I’m not sure why you waited so long to make the move. Manhattan is where you belong.” Her beautiful hazel eyes widened in satisfaction as she flicked her dark brown hair over her shoulder. Her lips settled into a grin as she leaned across her desk, the midday sun pooled through the massive glass windows of her high-rise office. “It’s way past due.”

  “Well, I’m here now aren’t I? You found me a place yet?” I eased back into my chair, wondering if she’d managed to find me a new address that satisfied the vague shopping list I’d given her. I wasn’t Beyoncé, but I didn’t want random fans knocking at my door. And an undercover garage as well, I didn’t want to be street parking my ‘68 Corvette.

  “Max, please.” The laugh worked its way up her throat. “With your budget? I’ve found several.” She turned back to her computer and gave her keyboard some love.

  The lady in front of me was not only beautiful but also wicked smart, and working with one of the best realtors in NYC. In every respect, the kind of girl you’d be proud to have on your arm. But there was also a snowballs chance in hell I had any interest in her other than professional.

  Ivy Shaw was the younger sister of my best friend Joey, which well and truly put her into the never-ever-gonna-go-there category. Not just because Joey would have my nuts if I even looked at her that way, but because I’d seen her grow up and she was the sister I’d never had. My brother, and only sibling, was still MIA and that’s where I’d preferred the lowlife to stay.

  Having Ivy take care of this meant I didn’t have to worry about some asshole taking me for a ride. The money, the fame—it was still taking me awhile to get used to.

  “So, do you have a preference to area? Tribeca? Upper East Side? Greenwich?” Her fingers tapped on the keys as she pulled up some prospective properties on the screen.

  “As long as it has great security, my neighbors aren’t assholes and it’s bigger than a closet, I’m cool with wherever.” Apartment living was going to be an adjustment and I’d rather not deal with some pain-in-the-ass pearl-clutcher who assumed I Satan worshipped.

  “You know . . .” She kept typing without looking up. “There’s a great place that has four bedrooms—”

  “Ivy, four bedrooms? Overkill don’t you think? It’s just me. Three bedrooms is plenty. Then I can have a guest room and set one up as a mini studio.” Hell, I’d even go down to two if I had to. The money was coming in, but I didn’t want to spend more green than I needed on a bunch of rooms I had no use for.

  “You know, no one could have predicted that my brother would be married with a kid. I’m just trying to keep your options open.”

  And here we go again. Ivy was a sweetheart, but she spent waaaaay too much time thinking about my love life. She’d been trying to set me up for a few months now so the angle wasn’t new. I put up with it because she was harmless but that’s where the interest stopped. I didn’t need a matchmaker.

  “And I appreciate that. Trust me, I’m open to doing all of that, but my options didn’t exactly increase when my bank account did.”

  It had been awhile since I’d had anyone steady. And while I assumed I’d eventually do the love and marriage thing, currently it wasn’t on my radar.

  Girls weren’t the problem. I had more opportunities than I ever did before—blondes, brunettes, redheads—take your pick. But as far as keepers went, none of them stuck.

  “What do you mean?” She leaned forward in her chair genuinely interested.

  “I mean, most girls see me as a meal ticket. Whether it’s for money or to get their name in the paper. Most of the dates I’ve been on end up on Instagram. Not really wife material.”

  “Oh.” She stopped typing as the penny dropped. Fame was awesome, but it came with a price tag.

  “Look, I’m not complaining.” I was genuinely okay with it. I was living a charmed life so the girl thing—or lack thereof—wasn’t a big deal. “Seriously, it’s a small price to pay for our Cinderella story, but I know that it’s going to be harder from here on out, not easier. Just being realistic.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be looking for someone new?” She shifted in her chair, her attention no longer on her computer screen. “Maybe you’ve already met her.”

  Well, there was a fucking revelation. It wasn’t something that I’d thought a lot about, but every once in a while it got front and center on my current situation. So the mention wasn’t some subtle hypothetical when we both knew who she was talking about.

  Beth.

  The girl who had been by my side for years and probably the last real girlfriend I’d had.

  “Kid, I know you mean well, but you are wrong on that one.” I was fairly sure the window for the two of us getting back together had closed. “It’s been over four years since we last spoke. Hell, I don’t even know where she lives anymore.” She moved out of the Bronx, that much I knew. “Too much time has gone by.”

  “But I know—”

  I didn’t give her a chance to finish.

  “Maybe, you find me a place and leave me to find my own dates. Or perhaps you’d like me to tell Joey about that stockbroker you’re seeing?”

  It was a dick move and one I’d never pull, but I knew one word of subjecting her new dude to Joey’s rigorous screening would have her backing off the topic pretty damn quick.

  “You wouldn’t dare?” The death glare shot across her desk and chilled the room.

  “Wouldn’t I?” I smirked as I eased back into my chair knowing she wouldn’t risk finding out.

  “Fine, fine. I can take a hint and butt out, but I think if anyone is wrong, it’s you. I’ll just do what I’m getting paid to do.” The sarcasm wasn’t hard to miss but at least she was letting it go.

  “Does this mean your commission just increased?”

  “Yep, and you’re taking me out to dinner tonight.” Her smile returned as her eyes filled with mischief. “My Instagram could use some more action.”

  “You drive a tough bargain, Ivy Shaw.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you love me for it.”

  ***

  “What do you think?” Her heels echoed off the wooden floorboards. “Three bedrooms, very secure, undercover garage.” She rattled off my list like hostage demands. “Amazing location, great view . . .”

  It had been exactly a week, and apparently Ivy had found what was going to be my next home. She’d woken me up, excited beyond measure about an apartment that I had to see. I’d assumed the process would take a little longer but was happy to get it wrapped up sooner t
han later. Everyone else had moved away and the house that Joey and I shared had been pretty empty since he’d left.

  “Yeah, it looks good.” I nodded as I walked around the empty space, the apartment huge by Manhattan standards. “Definitely ticks all the boxes. I’ll make a mental note of all its virtues. Where to next?”

  “What you mean next? This is the apartment.” Ivy shot me a look like I was insane. Her hands out wide for good measure.

  “So we’re not even going to look at anything else? You know it’s not about the cash. If I need to spend a little extra, it’s all good.”

  I assumed that we’d poke around three possibly four apartments, and I’d ooh and ahh at all the right places and then pick out the least pretentious. Or at least that had been my understanding of how this property buying shit worked.

  “No, Max. This is the best apartment in my portfolio.” She shook her head unwilling to relent. “This is like the Hope Diamond. You don’t get a penthouse like this open up for sale often. I’m telling you, I’m fighting with three other brokers for this. We walk away from this, it will be off the market by noon.”

  Not sure why she was putting on the hard sell, she knew that I wasn’t wasting her time and a sale either today, tomorrow or next week was a sure thing. I was in the market, not wandering around empty rooms trying to make myself feel better about the size of my wallet. And the reason I’d chosen her—besides the obvious that she was kickass at what she did—was so I didn’t have to deal with the shady agent trying to slip his hand into my back pocket and rob me blind.

  “Ivy, we’re not talking about a used car or a case of beer. There are a lot of zeros on that price tag.” Sure I could afford it, but I hadn’t woken up and completely lost my mind. Who the fuck bought property on a freaking whim? This wasn’t a game of fucking Monopoly. No one was going to be handing me cash every time I passed go.

  “It’s the Upper West Side, trust me, it doesn’t get better than this. This is the one. You need to buy it.”

  I should walk away.

  I should tell Ivy to stop being such a hard ass and find me some other possibilities or at the very least sleep on it. Impulse shopping was one thing, but this—