Maxen (Kinky Shine Book 2)

by Stephanie Witter

  Relocating to LA. It would be such a huge step. We weren't ready for this, to live together and be so close so often.

  But at the same time, there wasn’t much keeping me in New York anymore.

  My heart was screaming for me to try and stay in LA, but my head told me how much of a risk, how insane it all was. I had been following my head for the last few years, and it didn’t do me any good.

  Well, it wasn’t true. It led me to Maxen in a roundabout way.

  “Let me think about it, okay? I didn’t book a flight back anyway,’’ I whispered and kissed him under his ear right where I knew he loved it. His arms tightened around me and he nodded.

  ***

  MAXEN

  “Floyd wants to get us another photo shoot,’’ I said and rolled my eyes when I sat on the couch and pulled my wife into my side. My wife.

  A smile took over my face at the thought. I couldn’t believe she was here and that yesterday she up and left New York. I knew in her mind she thought she’d go back there, but she wouldn’t unless it was to visit her family and if I was lucky, follow me for a concert or PR stunts.

  Her life was here, in LA, now. I needed her by my side. The past twenty-four hours only made it clearer to me.

  “So?’’ She put down her phone on her thigh barely covered by a cream-colored skirt that made me drool when she put it on this morning.

  “We hate it.’’ Understatement of the year. “They always want us to either look like some lame boys’ band or like we’re about to be in an orgy or some fucking shit like that. Sex sells, we all know that, but shit… We’re rockers, not porn stars.’’

  “You could make plenty a woman happy though. You have quite the moves,’’ she said and lightly bit my neck with a giggle. It sent a zing to my balls.

  I laughed and threw my head back against the couch. Fuck, this woman. “Impressed by my moves, huh? I have plenty more.’’ I kissed the top of her head.

  “I don’t doubt it.’’ She sighed and quietly moved her hand over my chest and down to my abs. “If you want, I know a photographer.’’

  “Really?’’

  “I worked with her on a few projects back in New York. She moved here when she got more jobs and had an opportunity to get more serious into her artistic photography. She does plenty of different work.’’

  “She good then?’’

  “Very. She has a real eye and when she works with people she always respects their own character. I don’t know if—’’

  “I trust you, babe. It can’t be worse than what we had already had anyway. I can’t tell you the shit we’ve had to go through. I’m pretty sure Beckett is still not over that ball touching photographer when we first started.’’

  “What!’’ She cackled and pulled her face away to look at me. She was smiling big, laughter in her bright blue eyes. She was breathtaking.

  “This photographer was flamboyantly gay. You know we don’t care about that. We all have gay friends, but this one. Shit, he had his eyes set on Beckett and at one point, under the pretense of helping him to find his place he grabbed his dick and said something like ‘oh, you’re also really nice down there’.’’

  “No!’’

  “Yes. Fuck, I thought Beckett was about to run away screaming.’’ I laughed loudly again at the memory. Even to this day, I could just see Beckett’s white face and the panic in his eyes as he sought us out, silently begging for help.

  “Well, this one is really professional. She’s a great person too. I can always give your manager her number. He’ll see if her portfolio has what he needs for you guys.’’

  “I bet ya he’s going to hire her on the spot. He bitched to us that he can’t find anybody at this point. Apparently, word got out that we’re impossible to work with.’’

  “Sometimes I think Floyd deserves an award for dealing with you guys.’’ She shook her head and toyed with my pierced nipple through my shirt. Every time she did that shit I wanted to take her and thrust inside her until only her moans filled my ears. In fact, whenever she touched me, I wanted that. I hoped I would never have enough of this, of her, of us.

  My phone buzzed in my jeans against my thigh, right when I was getting ready to take her mouth. “Fuck.’’

  “You should answer that. If something else came out…’’ She trailed off and didn’t finish her sentence, but we both knew what we feared. My addiction. Right now, everybody was on a field trip with my marriage to Lark, but at some point and if nothing else came out, they would dig more, and my addiction would come out. I was strong enough to face it with Lark and the guys here, but I didn’t look forward to that fucked up mess when judgment would be passed again, hitting that much harder. I didn’t want to have to release some damn public apology for something that really hurt me and the people I was the closest to.

  I fished my phone out of my pants and pulled away from Lark. I sighed and glanced at the caller ID.

  Mom.

  My mouth was suddenly dry. I toyed with the piercing in my eyebrow and answered with a swipe of my finger.

  “Hi, Mom.’’

  Lark stiffened next to me and sat straighter. I didn’t look at her, but I knew her eyes were on me, careful and intent. I had never wanted to hide more. I didn’t want anyone to witness me when I was talking to the woman who gave me life. I was always rubbed raw and left too fucking hurt.

  “I’ve been calling you for days, Maxen.’’

  Her voice gritted my ears and I cringed. The years spent smoking weren’t kind to her, and from the few times I had seen her since I dropped out of college, I’d noticed it wasn’t kind on her skin and teeth either. She wasn’t careful of her health or anything, really. She only wanted money and men to give her whatever she was after.

  “I’ve been busy. Anyway, I heard about your interview. I’m sure they gave you cash to tide you over.’’

  “Don’t be cute. You know how it is.’’ She puffed out, probably smoking while talking to me. “They asked me questions, and I don’t have anything to hide, my boy.’’

  My boy.

  A damn fake endearment that reflected nothing at all. I had always had that. Fake and empty. I knew rejection and ignorance intimately.

  Fuck.

  Memories started to spiral, obscuring everything else, even Lark’s soothing presence. When she put a soft hand on my back, I barely felt it.

  I remembered the time when I saw my mother being fucked by a random man against a closed shop in our small town when I was ditching school. I remembered that same day going home and finding my father with his dick deep in some paid girl’s throat and shooting his load while I was frozen in the spot. I remembered that time when my parents yelled at each other for fucking others and whatever else they had issues with and then fucking in their room so fucking loud I couldn’t cover the sounds with my shitty radio in my room. I remembered when they would yell at me when I made myself known. I remembered when my mother told me I shouldn’t have come back when I left for one fucking month without saying a damn word.

  It hit me.

  The fuckedupness.

  The fear and disgust.

  The loathing I felt for them and still loving them because they’re my parents.

  And the hatred for myself, the deeply rooted belief that I wasn’t worth much of anything better, hit so hard it became tough to fucking breathe.

  “Maxen, listen, my boy. I’d like to travel with Jim. I met him a few days ago and he’s real nice, but I need more money. Now.’’

  Money.

  I wasn’t her son.

  I wasn’t her flesh and blood.

  I was her fucking ATM.

  I was so tired of this fucking mess.

  ***

  LARK

  It was eerie to witness such change in Maxen. A minute ago he was happy and relaxed. His eyes were bright, and his body leaned toward me. Now, it’s the opposite and it scared me.

  His eyes dulled, losing any spark in them. His body didn’t tense. In fact
, it seemed to draw into itself as if he was physically retreating into a shell. He barely let me touch his back. His Adam’s apple jumped in his throat as his shaky finger rose to his piercing to toy with it.

  “I already sent you money this month.’’ His voice sounded empty, flat.

  Chills ran up my spine, and I had the urge to take a flight back to New York to give his mother a piece of my mind. That woman didn’t deserve even half of the attention Maxen gave her. She deserved nothing if she was only there to hurt her son.

  I heard the woman’s voice rising through the phone, but I couldn’t make out anything she said.

  “Okay. Just… no, stop. Stop, Mom.’’ He shook his head and sighed. “I’ll transfer money… Yeah, now. I get it.’’

  I blinked, and before I could reason with myself, I snatched Maxen’s phone from his hand and brought it to my ear before he even turned toward me. Fuck it.

  “Mrs. Walton?’’

  “Who’s this?’’ Her voice was gravelly. Either she went on a bender or she smoked heavily.

  “I’m Lark Hardin. Your son’s wife.’’

  “Oh, yeah.’’ She snorted and I grimaced. Maxen made a move to grab his phone, but I slapped his hand away and shook my head. “His wife. Let me laugh. He’s like his father, that one. Sweetheart, believe me, you’d be better off without him.’’

  I tightened my grip on the phone and it almost slipped from between my fingers. “How dare you pump your son for money and talk about him that way in the same breath? What kind of person are you?’’

  “Lark!’’ Maxen yelled, moving toward me again, but I jumped to my feet and walked away from the couch. Maxen put his head into his hands.

  “He’s my son. I’ll say anything I want, you little slut! You think you can interfere in—’’

  “Shut your mouth!’’ I yelled, and Maxen’s eyes found me again, horror filling them. But there was so much pain in them too, and he couldn’t hide that even if he forced one of his big smiles and loud laughs. It only fueled me further. “I should be the better person and treat you with respect even if you don’t, but I can’t. You’re hurting your son, Mrs. Walton. You should be there for him and trying to support him instead of hurting him again and again while thinking all he has is yours too. He has a successful life, and he only owes it to himself. He’s a wonderful and loyal man, and it’s not something you taught him. He’s a self-made man, and I will not let someone as toxic as you are, close to him. He deserves more than you and your ugliness. Stay away from him.’’

  “How dare you! Put Maxen on the phone. Now!’’ Her loud voice buzzed in my ear, but I didn’t let it get to me. I didn’t want to impress her in any way, I just wanted to show Maxen that he was worth fighting for, that he deserved someone to be there and support him when he couldn’t fight some battles. He needed someone there for him other than his friends. I needed to be that someone.

  “No. You should be ashamed of yourself.’’

  “Stop. Now, Lark!’’ Maxen strode to me, and grabbed his phone back, his eyes locked on mine. They had a bit of light back in them, but there’s no hint of the happiness there had been minutes ago when he looked at me. He put his phone to his ear and listened to his mother’s poisonous words for a while before he stopped her. “Mom. Mom!’’ He talked louder, and he never looked away from me. He ran a finger between my eyebrows where I knew a deep wrinkle carved when something upset me. His touch was so soft, nothing like I expected. I was sure he’d be mad at me, but he was as caring as usual. “It needs to stop, Mom.’’

  His voice wavered on those words, and his hand shook against my cheek. I put my own over his, hoping it’d give him strength and comfort.

  “No, Mom.’’ He cringed at something she said, but when I feared he’d crumble and give in, he surprised me and nodded as if coming to a decision in his head. “I’m sorry you feel that way. You can do whatever you want and go to TMZ or wherever else, but it’s over. With the apartment I got for you, you’re set for a little while. It’s time you sort yourself out.’’

  More yelling came through the phone, and I shook my head. Maxen stood there, his eyes intense on mine and unable to hang up. I knew he couldn’t. I saw it in the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone tighter, in the line of his shoulders showing how stiff he was standing, in the way his chest heaved with his breaths.

  Slowly I reached for his phone. I gave him the time to stop me, but he didn’t. I pulled on his thick wrist and brought his hand still holding the phone to my mouth and kissed his fingers until they relaxed for me to grab the phone and turn it off.

  “It’s over now, Maxen,’’ I whispered, and my heart broke when his shoulders started to shake.

  Before my eyes, he broke down, but I was there for him.

  “Don’t fucking leave me, Lark,’’ he said quietly as he wrapped me in his arms. He was shaking all over.

  “I won’t. I’m here.’’

  How could I leave him anyway? Happy or not, leaving wasn’t an option anymore, not since that first night together. Or maybe it started with that first kiss on the very couch I led him to and snuggled with him as tears fell from his beautiful green eyes, purging him from the mess of his past.

  No, I think it all started in the coffee shop where I met him, was brought to life in Las Vegas, and was cemented here in Maxen’s living room. The rest was only the follow up to our story that started a long time ago even if we didn’t want to face it.

  Five months later…

  MAXEN

  I couldn’t tear my eyes off of the damn thing. When I saw the two thick envelopes in the mailbox, I knew what it was before I had a look at the senders. One was for Lark and one for me. But when I opened my envelope and saw the divorce papers waiting for me to sign, I swear my fucking heart broke.

  Since we got together, we hadn’t talked about the divorce and kept the procedure running. She probably wanted a clean slate for our relationship and I got it.

  The trouble was that I didn’t want a damn divorce. I didn’t need a clean slate because our relationship had always been complicated and difficult. It’s who we were and this marriage? It’s what brought her back in my life.

  And I loved being married to her.

  I loved her.

  And I fucking loved and got a kick out of presenting her to people as my wife. She always looked at me with huge eyes when I did it, and I never failed to feel like the king of the world.

  “Hey, what are you doing? I thought you wanted to work out before the band’s appearance at that talk show with…’’ Lark said and trailed off when she walked next to me in the kitchen, and her eyes fell on the divorce papers in front of me and the other envelope with her name on it still untouched. “Oh.’’

  “Yeah.’’ I turned back to the papers in front of me, my shoulders hunched over, my head heavy, feeling like it was filled with damn lead. My arms tingled with the need to wrap them around her and mold myself to her to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere. I was fucking crazy.

  I toyed with my piercing and licked my dry lips.

  I shouldn’t be so scared to lose her. Our relationship was going great. We often fought and that’s usually when we burned hotter than ever to end up on the first flat surface to make up. We had a strange way of communicating, but we did. We talked, we fought and talked some more. We loved each other, and it ran high with passion.

  “I forgot they’d be here any day,’’ she said quietly.

  She grabbed her envelope and opened it with trembling fingers. At least she’s feeling out of sorts too.

  That’s good.

  She put her papers in front of her, right next to mine and then looked up at me.

  “We didn’t talk about the divorce much since you moved here.’’

  It took persuasion with lots of sex and orgasms to make her agree to stay here in LA with me and start working freelance as a web designer, logo creator and shit like that. With my connections and the band logo among other things in
her portfolio, it didn’t take long before her business took off. Harley was the first one to hire Lark to give a facelift to her music blog two months ago.

  I was happy to see my wife’s success and happier that it happened to be right here in LA. At first, Alan and her parents weren’t so thrilled, but when they realized that Lark was happy and back to herself, they let it go. I didn’t think Alan had visited me and the guys so much before Lark started dating me, but I didn’t complain. He’s a good friend even though he enjoyed being a cock blocker a bit too much when he’s staying at the house.

  “I know. It seems like we love putting our head in the sand,’’ she replied and offered me a poor excuse of a smile. I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t muster up a smile or stop frowning since I got the mail.

  “Yeah, but it’s time we face this.’’

  “Do you have a pen?’’ she asked quietly, her eyes searching for something in mine.

  At her question, I ground my jaw and clenched my fists on either side of my fucking divorce papers. A pen. She wanted a fucking pen. To sign these papers and throw our marriage away.

  “You want a pen,’’ I said between clenched teeth.

  She started frowning at me too, and her small hands tightened on the papers. “Don’t you want a pen?’’

  I narrowed my eyes. “Let’s stop the bullshit right here.’’ I closed the space between us and cupped her face in my hands. When she wet her lips with her tongue, I had to keep myself in check before I attacked her mouth. It wasn’t the right time. Our marriage was in the balance. “I want to ask you a question, and I want you to honestly answer. Got it?’’ At her nod, I plowed on. “Do you want to divorce me or stay married to me?’’

  My fucking heart was squeezing painfully in my chest, and if I hadn’t been used to it doing weird shit since Lark walked back in my life, I’d be sure to call 911 thinking I was about to have a heart attack.