I look at Anna, who says, “He didn’t like it at first, but now he’s okay with it.”
Bailey looks like she wants to ask more but doesn’t. “Let’s go check out this VIP room,” she says excitedly, heading back inside. Anna and I quickly follow behind her.
“Bailey, wait,” I say. “Before we go to the VIP room—”
A man accidentally bumps me.
“Sorry,” he says, hand sliding down my waist.
I step back, “That’s okay.”
It’s an accident after all. When I turn to move around him however, he stops me, blocking my body with his. “How about a dance?”
“No, thanks,” I quickly say, not wanting to start a fight with the man. “I’m here with my boyfriend.”
He looks behind me, then around. “I don’t see a boyfriend.”
Calling Tracker my boyfriend felt so . . . underrated.
“Sorry, I really have to go,” I say once more.
“How about we—”
“The lady said no,” I hear Arrow growl from my right side. “Now fuck off before her man sees you, ’cause he’s not going to be as nice as I am.”
The man takes one look at Arrow’s cut and flees.
“Thanks,” I tell him, looking around for Anna and Bailey, both of them lost in the crowd. “Where’s Anna?”
“They’re waiting for you in front of the VIP room. Said I’d find you. Come on, Lana.”
I walk up to them, about to tell Bailey about Rake, when the man himself walks out, zipping up his jeans, woman by his side.
Well, fuck.
Had Anna warned her at least?
From the look on Bailey’s face, no, Anna didn’t tell her yet.
“Adam?” she gasps, taking in Rake’s appearance.
“Bailey?” Rake whispers, his eyes widening and his jaw going slack.
Bailey looks to the woman next to her ex-boyfriend. “I see some things don’t change.”
The tension around us spikes, the air thickening, the awkwardness for us watching them palpable.
“Should we go into—”
Rake cuts me off. “Anna, you and Lana go inside. Bailey and I need to talk.”
He can’t take his eyes off her. Does he still care for her?
“What about me?” the woman next to him snaps. “I just had your dick in my mouth and now you want to talk to this bitch?”
Pure. Class.
I look down at the floor and wish it would swallow me whole.
So. Damn. Awkward.
Anna grabs my arm. “Let’s give them some privacy.”
We quickly enter the room and get far away from the two of them, who look like they want to kill each other and tear each other’s clothes off simultaneously. When I see Tracker with a beautiful woman next to him, my eyes narrow. She has dark hair, a killer smile, and a body that even I wouldn’t mind seeing naked. Is this the type of woman he has being thrown at him on a daily basis? Tracker laughs at something she says but turns to look at me, finding me watching him. He says something else to the woman and then heads toward me. What would he have done if I wasn’t here? Would he have left with her? I know he didn’t do anything, but why do I feel like damage has been done anyway?
NINETEEN
WE end up at Toxic. Don’t ask me how it came about, because I don’t know.
“Your boobs are really huge,” Faye was telling one of the strippers. “Like, massive.”
“They’re natural,” the dancer beams.
“I’m pretty sure you could lick your own nipples,” Faye says, nodding her head. “I always wondered if other women could lick their own boobs.”
Safe to say, Faye is drunk.
And hilarious.
Arrow, who’s been watching Faye throughout her conversation with the stripper, plucks the drink from her hand. “Think you’ve had enough.”
Faye huffs. “I hardly ever go out, let me live a little, would you?”
She tries to reclaim her drink.
“Should we take her home?” I ask Tracker quietly, who slides me farther up his lap so I’m sitting on his groin.
“She’s okay, let her be. No harm in talking to strippers about their tits,” he says into my ear.
I look around the strip club. “Have you slept with any of these women?”
“No,” he says, nibbling on my earlobe. “Fucked a few. We did no sleeping.”
I slap his arm. “You’re such an asshole.”
I scan the club, wondering which women he’s been with, jealousy seeping through my pores.
“Baby,” he whispers, turning my face back to him. “I’m sorry you have to see women I’ve fucked, but that’s all they were to me. I’ve never felt what I’ve got with you before. You need to put the past behind us, all right?”
“All right,” I grumble. Can I really trust him? I can’t deny the doubt I feel at the back of my mind. Men don’t stick around. He’ll move on when he’s done with me, and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces.
“You wanted to come here, remember?” he says. “Try something new. I’m happy to experience new things with you like this, but at the end of the day it’s you and me.”
I lay my head on his chest, pushing away all other thoughts. “You can be so sweet sometimes.”
“Only for you.”
“Good. I like it that way.”
“No, Faye, you can’t get onstage,” I hear Anna growl. “Unless you want us all dead.”
“Next time Sin is coming out,” Arrow says, shaking his head in amusement. “Faye is too much work.”
“What did Talon want?”
Tracker gives me a quick kiss. “Apparently there’s a new MC in the area, starting shit. Wanted to talk to us about it.”
My eyes widen. I didn’t actually expect him to answer. “Did you just give me a little bit of club information? I think I’m going to die of shock.”
“Smart-ass,” he teases. “I’ll tell you what I can tell you, no more no less.”
“I can deal with that.”
He kisses me again, this one deeper, hungrier. Suddenly he stands with me still in his arms, and takes me through a door to an office.
“Here?” I ask, glancing around the room.
“Here,” he growls. “Pull those jeans down and bend over the table.”
* * *
I call Tracker, excitement racing through me. “I found a place!”
“Where is it?” he says. “Close to the clubhouse?”
“About ten minutes away,” I say. “The rent is a good price and it’s stunning.”
“Want me to come have a look?”
“Would you mind?” I say, clutching the phone.
“Not at all,” he says. “Text me the address, I’ll be there in five.”
We hang up.
“I said ten minutes, and he says he’ll be here in five,” I mutter to myself as I text him the address.
He arrives on his bike, like he said, in five minutes. We both take a look around, as I talk him through every room.
“I don’t like it,” he announces, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Wh-what? What do you mean you don’t like it? It’s perfect,” I argue, my head snapping to him.
He glances around. “No it’s not. You can find something better.”
“Tracker . . .”
“I don’t see why you don’t move in with me,” he says, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You practically live there anyway.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little too soon?” I ask, wringing my hands together.
“No, no I fuckin’ don’t,” he says, a stubborn, determined look taking over his expression. “I don’t like the thought of you here alone. At least at your mom’s, she’s there some of the time. Here you’re all by yourself, while I’m ten minutes away. It makes no sense. If you’re here, I’m just gonna come here anyway, so we might as well just live together.”
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I say ’bye to the real estate agent, telling
her I’ll be in touch. Tracker doesn’t take us back to the clubhouse. Instead, he takes us to the beach.
“Why are we here?” I ask.
“Just wanted to spend some quiet time with you,” he says, sitting down on the sand, and pulling me to sit between his legs. The fresh breeze is nice. With my head against his warm chest, we sit there watching the sun go down.
“This is kind of romantic,” I tell Tracker.
He nuzzles my neck, kissing behind my ear. “I can be romantic.”
“So you really want me to move in with you? You’re that sure we’ll work out?”
“’Course I am,” he says a little gruffly. “Why, you planning on leaving? ’Cause I’ll track you down and bring you back. It’s what I do.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “As long as you treat me right and you’re faithful to me, I’ll be right by your side.”
For as long as he wants me.
“Where you belong,” he adds.
I sigh in contentment. “Where I belong.”
* * *
When I see my dad sitting on the stairs in front of my mom’s house the next day, I stop in my tracks.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Wanted to talk to you.”
I know this conversation is long overdue, but I still don’t want to have it. There’s nothing this man can say to fix the situation.
He didn’t want me.
It is what it is, there’s no point sugarcoating it.
He wasn’t there on the Father’s Day lunches we held at school. I’d stand there alone, watching everyone else interact with their fathers, figuring out what I was missing. He wasn’t there on my birthdays, and he wasn’t there to see me grow up into a successful young woman.
He wasn’t there to fix my broken heart when William screwed me over.
My heart was already broken because of him, the one man in this world I should have been able to count on but couldn’t.
“What’s there to say?” I ask, putting my bag down at my feet and looking at him.
He puts his head in his hands. “The band was just making it when you were born. Your mother and I tried to make it work, but it was hard. I was on the road a lot and was dealing with the fame. Looking back it was stupid, but then and there it was a different situation. I struggled with many things, with what I wanted in life, with money. With my ego. At times it felt like I had to choose between my family or my dream, and then I’d feel resentful over that.”
“You could have tried to do both. I’m sure lots of musicians do,” I say, already tired of his excuses. I try to see it from his point of view, but at the end of the day there was me, an innocent child in the mix, and even if he wasn’t there all the time he could have still made an appearance, put in an effort. I was his daughter, and I didn’t get asked to be brought into this world. If he had such an issue with it, he should have worn a fucking condom.
He nods. “That’s what I should have done, yes. Instead, I blamed your mother for trying to weigh me down, ruining my career. I got lost in that world, Lana. It became everything to me. Fame. Money. Women. I thought it was all that mattered. I stopped confiding in your mother. Kept things from her. I remember, once, she learned I was going overseas for a long tour from a magazine, I hadn’t even bothered telling her.” He pauses. “I didn’t consider her my equal anymore I guess, as fucked-up as that sounds. I saw you whenever I could, but then each time became longer apart, until I just didn’t come by at all.”
“What was the final straw that ended things between you?” I find myself asking.
He breathes out through his nose, his nostrils flaring. “Pictures came out.”
He says no more, and I can only imagine what pictures. Probably him with another woman. Did he even tell Mom he didn’t want to be with her anymore? Or did he just keep her on the sidelines? I’m not sure I want to know.
“I knew you were busy, and I get it, but you mustn’t have cared at all if you couldn’t see me even once a year on my birthday, or just to pick up the phone. Did you even think of me?” I ask, letting my vulnerability show. “Because we thought about you all the time. I know Mom did.”
“Of course I thought about you. Both of you,” he whispers, voice catching. “I guess I thought I didn’t deserve you both after leaving you.”
“Then what makes you think you deserve to be in my life now?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You’re my only child. All I have is a life full of regrets. It’s now or never to try and make things as right as I can.”
I exhale slowly, thinking about everything I’ve just learned. I didn’t know what to say. I’d made myself numb toward anything to do with him, because that was the only way I could deal with it, by making myself pretend I didn’t really care where he was or whether he cared about me. The unfortunate truth is that he’s my father, so I always cared, I always hurt just beneath the surface, wondering why I wasn’t good enough, something Anna and I had in common. Why other kids had loving fathers but we didn’t. What was it about us? Of course now I know it had nothing to do with me, it was all to do with him, but as a child I obviously didn’t see it like that.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask quietly. Then I admit, “I’m sorry Rake hit you. I didn’t want that to happen.”
“We all know I deserved it,” he says, smiling sadly. “I deserve much more. And luckily it was Rake, not Tracker. I’d probably be in the hospital if it was.”
I don’t bother denying it.
“Still,” I say.
No point sinking to his level.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Lana,” he says, a proud glint entering his eyes. “Tracker is a lucky man. I know it’s much too late, but if you ever want to talk, or . . . anything. I will never turn you away again if you need me.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, not knowing what to say. Memories resurface. Mom crying at night, sobbing into her pillow. Me hugging her and not understanding why she was so sad. Me standing outside my school waiting for Mom to pick me up. Watching other dads with their kids. Feeling lost. Empty. Us not having electricity one week when we were struggling and behind on bills. All while my dad had a shitload of money but didn’t care to send us any.
“But I made it through my whole life without you, so I think I’ll be okay,” I say, steel in my tone.
How could I let him in my life again? It won’t change the past, will it? Could I ever forgive him completely? And do I even want to? Who is the forgiveness for, me or him? I don’t know how I feel. I need to process everything.
His face drops, but he nods. “Right. Of course, I understand. ’Bye, Lana.”
I laugh without humor. “You know, because of you, I have trust issues? I can’t trust anything anyone says to me, especially a man. I’m waiting for Tracker to turn his back on me, because men don’t stick around, right? All they do is leave destruction behind when they move on to the next best thing.”
He swallows hard, his throat working. “Good men do stick around.” As he walks away, the picture of a defeated man, I hurt for him.
I don’t want to hurt him, but it would hurt me to have him in my life at this moment in time. I know I need to let go, to be able to forgive and move on, but I guess I don’t see that happening right now. He made his decision, and now he has to live with it. He didn’t need to cut me out of his life. He made the conscious decision to do so.
I had no say in it.
I was just part of the wreckage left behind.
Still, I watch him as he disappears from my sight, regret tethering us together.
One thought runs through my head.
Tracker is a good man.
* * *
“What happened with Bailey the other night?” I nosily ask Rake, who scowls as the mere mention of her name.
“We had words. She left. That pretty much sums it up.”
“She still looks smoking hot. Even hotter than I remember,” I prod.
Rake stabs his fork into hi
s food harder than necessary. “Really? I didn’t notice.”
I’m waiting at the clubhouse for Tracker to get back. Rake’s keeping me company. He’s eating his dinner on the couch, while I make him watch some talk show.
“What did she mean when she said some things never change?” I ask. Did he cheat on her?
Rake throws me a look.
“Fine,” I grumble. “Not my business.”
He finally cracks a smile. “You hear about my birthday?”
“What about it?” I ask.
“It’s next week,” he says. “Everyone is throwing me a party here, it’s gonna be wild.”
“Am I invited?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
He smirks. “Ask Tracker, that’s his call. When I say wild, I mean wild. Are you gonna get shitty and run off, giving him hell?”
“No,” I reply. “He’d be with me. What would I get angry over?”
Rake plays with his lip ring. “Naked women. Public sex. Take your pick.”
I wince. “Is Anna going to be here?”
“Fuck no,” he replies, chuckling. “She’s taking me out to dinner the night before.”
“Good call,” I say.
“I know. Nothing screams cock-block more than your little sister showing up.”
“So you don’t mind if I see . . . whatever,” I ask, my face heating in embarrassment.
“If you wanna see, all you have to do is ask, Lana.”
I throw a pillow at him, which just misses his plate.
“Oops,” I say insincerely. “My bad.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
I rub my eyes. “I’m sleepy. I’m gonna go nap until Tracker gets back.”
“Okay,” Rake says. “I’ll tell him you’re waiting for him in his bed.” He pauses. “Naked.”
I ignore him and make my way to Tracker’s bedroom.
TWENTY
I WAKE up alone.
Hearing voices, I search for Tracker, finding him shirtless in the gym. He and Arrow are in the middle of a ring, fighting. My heart in my throat, I watch as the two powerful men fight for dominance, each hitting the other with brutal force. Why are they doing this? Ever since I’ve been here, I haven’t seen Tracker get in the ring. And here he is now, in the middle of the night? I gasp when Arrow clocks him on the side of the face, but Tracker simply spits out blood on the floor and continues to fight back. When it’s finally over, the two of them sit down on the floor. Arrow pulls something out of his pocket, and the two of them light up and smoke it. Is that . . . weed? I didn’t even know Tracker smoked.
Tracker's End Page 15
