Suspended: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance

by Zoey Oliver

  I shrug. “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. We should probably get going.”

  She nods, still looking at me like she’s not sure who I am. Not sure, but definitely into it.

  She’s still red the whole bus ride.

  Luckily, the state competition is being held in LA, so we don’t have too far to go. Unluckily, it’s still LA and takes a couple hours.

  “Do you think we’re gonna win?” Kamala asks, having claimed the seat next to me. I think Tori might actually have been relieved about that. Probably worried about what I’d do to her on the bus after what I did outside of it. But when I’m with the kids, I’m focused. She didn’t have anything to worry about.

  “I think we’ve got a pretty good chance,” I say. “But there’s gonna be a lot of other teams there and they’re all the best in their region too, so it’s gonna be tough.”

  She adopts a serious expression. “We’re gonna kick their butts.”

  “You got that right,” I laughed.

  “I thought it was just about having fun,” Tori teases from across the aisle.

  “It is about having fun,” I say. “But even I can’t deny our awesome butt-kicking abilities.”

  Kamala giggles and Tori smiles, rolling her eyes a little.

  It’s not long before we’re at the concert hall and the kids are all practically bouncing out of their skin.

  “All right everyone,” I say, announcing the bus as a whole once we’re parked, before I let anyone off. “Why are we here today?”

  “To have fun!”

  “To sing!”

  “To KICK BUTT!”

  “All of those things,” I laugh, “but most importantly to have fun. Win or lose, I’m so, so proud of you guys and you should be proud of yourselves too. Look how far you’ve come! It’s pretty much guaranteed that something’s going to go wrong. Maybe a lot of somethings. But don’t let yourself get stressed out, just remember why we’re here and have fun. Can I get a cheer?”

  “WOO!” the kids yell back.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “WOOOOOOO!” they chorus, the sound filling the bus this time.

  “All right. Let’s go!”

  I lead the way off the bus and Tori sidles up to me, bumping her shoulder into mine. “That was a good little speech you gave.”

  “You think so?”

  She grins, but something beyond her catches my eye. Something familiar. It’s hard to say what it is, but when you know someone really well, even the way they stand can help you identify them in a crowd. And she isn’t just standing. She’s pushing through people, looking over the crowd, extending her neck like Inspector Gadget.

  “Serge?” Tori asks, frowning.

  “Huh?”

  “You didn’t hear any of that, did you?” she sighs.

  “Sure I did.”

  “What’d I say?”

  I’m still looking through the crowd, craning my neck the same way she is, only I’m hoping she doesn’t see me. What the hell is she doing here?

  Tori follows my line of sight, a hand on her hip. “What is it?”

  She turns, spots me, smiles big and I groan. No point in avoiding it now.

  “My mother,” I sigh.

  “Your—”

  I just shake my head and try to head her off. Maybe I can at least protect the kids from her even if I can’t save myself.

  “Serge! I’ve been looking for you,” she says, beaming, giving me a big hug.

  “What’re you doing here Mom?”

  “I wanted to come support your little endeavor,” she says, waving her hand like she doesn’t really think it’s something worth bothering with, but she’s humoring me anyway. I sigh.

  “How’d you even know about it?”

  “You’re not a complete unknown, dear. As much as you want to pretend you never had any success, there are still those who follow your career quite closely.”

  “I don’t have a career,” I insist. I’m not going to tell her about my plans for the center. The last thing I need is for her to start micromanaging the new project I’m so excited about.

  “Well, it’s not much of one at the moment, but that’s only because you’ve neglected it for so long. If you just started doing some shows, had a social media presence, you’d be amazed. You know I tried to find you on Facebook and you don’t even have an official fan page. You’re doing yourself a disservice, honey!”

  “Mom, I’ve gotta get the kids backstage and prepped. I don’t have time for this.”

  “Don’t worry,” she says, hugging me again. “I’ll see you in there.”

  “You can’t—” She’s already walking away before I can tell her that she won’t be allowed backstage. But knowing my mother, she’ll find a way. She always finds a way. If there’s any possible way in the entire known universe to make me more stressed, my mother knows how to find it.

  “Are you okay?” Tori asks hesitantly from behind. I jump, on edge, then sigh, annoyed with myself.

  “Yeah. Listen, can you get the kids in and registered and everything? I just… I need a minute.”

  She chews on her bottom lip, but nods. “Yeah, of course.”

  I head in the concert hall where it’s air-conditioned and just kind of pace around the lobby for a while, replaying the conversation with my mom in my head, replaying archived conversations, all the old criticisms and scrutiny bubbling up from the depths to pile on. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but once it starts it won’t stop and even the voices in the lobby are all starting to sound like her.

  Why did she have to be here? Why did she have to charge into my life again on today of all days?

  I find a quiet alcove near backstage, where her voice can’t taunt me, but her words won’t leave me alone. I’m not even thinking when I pull my phone out, or when I open my contacts, or when I dial the number I should have deleted fucking seven years ago. Every time I see it, I know I should delete just for a time like this, a time when I can’t stop myself, when the urge is too strong and my addiction overrides my willpower.

  My hand’s shaking as I bring the phone up to my ear.

  Just a little bit, I think. Wouldn’t be so bad. No one would ever have to know and it would help me cope with my mother so much better.

  “Hello?” a voice answers, but I’m not even sure it’s the right voice. It’s been seven years and I’m not even sure I’d recognize my old dealer’s voice at this point.

  “Hello?” he says again.

  My hand’s sweaty and shaking and I’m having trouble holding on to it.

  “Yo, I can hear you breathing. You there, man?”

  I hang up and slump against the wall, a cold sweat on my whole body.

  “Serge?” It’s Tori’s voice calling out for me, looking for me in the hallway, a fucking angel coming to save me from myself.

  I groan and it’s loud enough that she comes to investigate.

  “Jesus, what happened to you?” she says. I don’t know for sure, but if I had to guess, I’m probably pretty fucking pale, and I know I’m shaking and sweaty, I probably look like I’m coming out of withdrawal of coming down with the flu. But I don’t care what I look like because she’s there and I wrap her in my arms and crush her to me. I bury my face in her hair and hold her so tight I think I might crack her ribs, but I can’t hold her any looser. Not right now.

  “What happened?” she asks, pulling away, her eyes searching mine, so worried.

  I shake my head.

  “Serge? What’s going on? You’re worrying me.”

  I hand her my phone. “Delete the last person I called. Please.”

  She frowns, but she does it, handing me the phone back.

  “Now are you going to tell me what that’s about?”

  “I just came way too fucking close to fucking everything up. I don’t know… My mom puts me so far on edge, but I can’t keep blaming her forever. I just… I almost… Fuck.”

  I know I’m not making any sen
se, but I guess it’s enough for Tori because she looks horrified for a minute before she takes my hands.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Just focus on the kids. Remember we’re here to have fun.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t understand. I almost—”

  “Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” she says. “It sucks that it got that bad, but you didn’t do it. You stopped yourself. And now the number’s gone. You can’t sit here and dwell on it all day and take this day away from those kids. You’re better than me,” she adds with a cheeky grin.

  I blow out a heavy breath, her words sinking in, the panic fading away. “Okay. You’re right.”

  She nods and leans into me as she walks me toward the backstage area where the kids are presumably waiting. “And just leave your mother to me.”

  I know that statement should worry me, but I can’t help just being happy that Tori’s in my corner.

  Chapter 18

  Tori

  I wait until I’m sure Serge is distracted by the kids. It doesn’t take too long. As soon as we’re with them again they’re bombarding him with questions and needing his reassurance. I think it’s good for him. His color is coming back quickly and he doesn’t look so shaky and sweaty.

  I have to admit, when I found him in that alcove, I thought I might already be too late. The way he looked wasn’t good, and even though I didn’t think he could’ve gotten something that fast, I wouldn’t put anything above a person who really wanted to score.

  But thankfully, my worst fears remain just that. They’re not reality. At least not yet. But it’s only going to get harder if someone doesn’t put his mom in her place. I don’t think she knows the effect she has on him, because if she does, and she still acts that way, she’s a really shitty mom. And from what he’s told me, she’s not a shitty mom, she’s just a lot.

  So when I’m absolutely sure he’s not watching, I slink off and look for her around the backstage area. And sure enough, it’s not long before I find her, perfectly coiffed and trying to talk her way in backstage.

  “You don’t understand,” she’s saying. “My son is back there. He needs me.”

  “Ma’am there’s three thousand kids here to perform today. If I let every parent back here, we might as well not have a back stage.”

  “Let me speak with your supervisor, this is ridiculous,” she says.

  “I’m going to call security if you don’t leave on your own.”

  She looks scandalized.

  “It’s okay,” I say, flashing the guard my chaperone badge. “I can handle this one.”

  He gives me an odd look but then looks back at Serge’s mom and decides she’s not worth the trouble.

  “She can’t go back there,” he says.

  I nod. “Understood.”

  “I know you… you were talking to my son outside,” she says brightly. “You know Serge?”

  “I do... can we talk?”

  She nods enthusiastically, no idea what she’s agreeing to.

  “So you’re Serge’s mom?”

  “Dimitra,” she says, holding her hand out. I shake it, but without much conviction. “Who are you?” she asks.

  “Tori,” I answer plainly. When that doesn’t answer her question, I remember that Serge doesn’t really talk to his mom all that much and probably hasn’t told her anything about me. Or even that he’s seeing someone. I have to be careful.

  “I’ve been working with Serge and the kids for a few months and we’re planning some benefit concerts for the center in the future.”

  She narrows her eyes and then suddenly the penny drops. “You’re the one he’s been performing with!”

  “Yep.” I nod.

  “And he’s planning more concerts? I’m so glad he’s not wasting his talent anymore. He’s not getting any younger.”

  “See, that’s what we need to talk about,” I say, blunt as a spoon.

  “Excuse me?” Dimitra’s smile fades, she finally realizes I’m not here for a pleasant chat.

  “The way you talk to your son about his choices, musical and otherwise, it’s not okay.”

  “I don’t know who you think you—”

  “Save it. If you want to have any place in your son’s life, you need to learn to be supportive and stop pushing him so damn much.”

  “I don’t know what arrangement you and my son have, but I am his mother and if you think for one minute he’s going to listen to you and let you cut me out—”

  “It’s not me,” I tell her. “Serge is the one that’s going to cut you out of his life if you can’t cool it. It’s not up to me. This is just a friendly warning. Just thinking about you makes Serge want to pick up the needle. I know you think you were encouraging him to be his best, but it put a lot of pressure on him and he nearly died. How important is his career to you really? Would you rather have a successful son or a living one?”

  The color drains from her face and her jaw goes slack. I think it’s the first time that Dimitra Davenport has ever considered that she might be the catalyst behind her son’s drug problem.

  “He told you all that?”

  “More or less,” I say, my tone a little gentler. “I get it. Believe me. I’m a perfectionist about this too, but it’s not worth the alternative.”

  Dimitra’s trembling hand comes up to cover her mouth. “It was my fault?” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “The pressure was too much for him. But, I wouldn’t blame yourself entirely. He’s a big boy that makes his own choices.”

  “I never knew I was putting so much pressure on him… I just wanted him to be the best he could be…” And then her tears start flowing and she sobs against my shoulder. I don’t really know what to do, so I just awkwardly pat her back saying ‘there, there’ over and over again.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, wiping at her tears. “I feel like such a fool. Why hasn’t he ever told me this himself?”

  “Maybe he figured you knew? Or maybe he didn’t want to hurt your feelings? I don’t know. He cares about you a lot, I think your pressuring just drives him, well, crazy.”

  Her lips thin and I shrug. “Sorry,” I add.

  “Why don’t you just go and enjoy the show and I’ll talk to him. We’ll come see you after it’s all done. He doesn’t need the distraction and I’m pretty sure that guard takes his job way too seriously.”

  That gets a watery chuckle out of her and she nods. “Okay. Thank you, Tori. It took a lot of guts to tell me what you did, but I needed to hear it.”

  I smile and wave, dipping back through the stage door. I hope Serge won’t be pissed at me when he finds out I confronted his mom for him, but something had to be done about that woman and her warpath.

  “How’s it going?” I ask, whispering to the gathered kids.

  “The other teams are really good,” Amanda says, fidgeting with her hair.

  “Have we already forgotten why we’re here?” I ask, eyebrows raised, teasing her. She rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh.

  “No.”

  “Why are we here?” I prompt.

  She sighs again. “To have fun.”

  “Right,” I say.

  “Well, winning is fun, isn’t it?” she tosses back.

  I grin. “I dunno. Why don’t you win and let me know?”

  “Well, you heard the lady,” Serge says, coming up beside me, an arm around my waist. “Let’s go out there and show them what we’re made of.” Then, he turns to me. “Kiss for luck?”

  “Wait, you’re going out there too?”

  He laughs. “Yeah, I’m the choir director.”

  I smack my forehead. Of course he is. And that explains all the extra pressure he’s putting on himself. I lean up on the tips of my toes and kiss him.

  “Knock ‘em dead, baby.”

  The performance goes off without a hitch, and afterward, Serge is in such a good mood, I think it’s safe to bring his mom back into the fray. Surreptitiously, I wave her over
while he’s gushing with the kids and speculating about their scores.

  He spots her coming over and stiffens, his back going straight as a steel beam. “Mom,” he says, his voice gruff.

  She’s not crying anymore, and it looks like she’s probably reapplied her make-up because it’s impossible to tell that she ever was.

  “You were great out there,” she says.

  “But?”

  She shakes her head. “No buts. It was a wonderful performance.”

  He frowns. “Thanks?” Then he narrows his eyes. “But I shouldn’t be wasting my talent teaching kids, right?”

  Dimitra sighs, her face falling, a hand going out to Serge’s arm. She looks up into his eyes and squeezes his arm. “I will always be proud of you. No matter what you choose to do. And the work you’ve done with these kids is amazing. It’s clear you have talents I didn’t know about,” she said, trying out a little smile.

  Serge still looks confused, but he lets her hug him and hugs her back. “Thanks, Mom.” When Dimitra looks at me over his shoulder, I give her a secret little thumbs up and she mouths ‘thank you’ at me.

  I’m sure it’s not all going to be sunshine and roses from here. I’m still going to have to keep an eye on her, but it’s progress and I’m happy for that.

  “Tori, how long ‘til we find out who won?” Kamala asks, hanging around like my shadow. Not that I mind. After so many weeks at the center, I almost feel weirder without her at my side.

  “Um… I don’t know. I think that’s everyone, so soon?”

  “Do you think it will be us?” she asks, her eyes big.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think we’re gonna win,” she says confidently.

  “Me too,” I grin.

  It’s another hour of anticipation before the judges return with the results.

  We don’t win.

  But we do get second, which is enough to get us to Nationals.

  It’s a win in our books, but when I glance over at Dimitra, I see trouble brewing. I can tell the results hit her hard and I can see her wheels turning. I don’t know if she’s ready to go appeal to the judges or to give Serge a lesson on what to do better next time, but I see it happening. I hurry over to her quickly.