by S. Ann Cole
An apology.
He was choosing her over me. He never fucking got over her. He’d lied. And the first chance he got, he was going to take her and ruin what we had. Now there I was, the fool.
Hadn’t I known all along I was second to her? That I was his standby?
The man I loved closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, shutting me out. He was wishing me gone, clearly dismissing me. That easy, he made his choice.
From somewhere deep down, past my unconscious heart and the sick, gutted feeling roiling in the pit of my stomach, somewhere in the tsunami of pain, I found the strength to move.
I wouldn’t fight. Every fight I had in me was gone. Used up by him. What I would do was grant him his wish: be gone when he opened his eyes.
Absconding from the kitchen, not wanting to alert his beloved Krissy, I quickly fetched my belongings from his room as silent tears streamed.
I shouldn’t have cried. Crying was weak, and I needed to be strong. I needed to walk away and never look back. I could do it. I knew I could. I hadn’t always been an idiot. I used to be strong once. And tonight, I willed that side of me back.
Contending with Krissy was futile. A battle I would never win. She owned him. Like a fucking puppet on a string. She used him whenever and however she pleased, taking advantage of his feelings for her, and later indifferently pretended to be oblivious to his feelings.
From now on, she could jack his heart up with a butcher knife. I didn’t care. Not anymore.
Tears, hot tears, stubbornly disregarded my order and streamed down my face as I slipped out the front door without a peep, blocking out the sounds in the kitchen.
I rushed hurriedly down the driveway while texting Thomas and ran smack into a tall, hard, wall of a man. He had a powerful but heady scent of new leather and an undertone of olive bar-soap.
Not wanting be recognized, a sobbing broken-hearted fool, I kept my head down and muttered my apologies as I moved to get around him. But his firm fingers clasped around my arm in a sturdy grip and kept me where I was.
When I glanced up, recognition hit.
Krissy’s mogul.
Oh, crap. Hell was about to turn over and I did not want to be around to get burned. So as his intense blue gaze narrowed in on me and his mouth opened to no doubt inquire what was wrong, I warned him, “You might not wanna go in there.”
Thomas pulled up just then.
The hot mogul looked to the house with a frown, letting me go, and I lingered not another moment, making a beeline for the Phantom, and slid in the back.
“Home, Miss Day?” Thomas asked.
“Just drive.”
Leaning back in the car seat, the tears flowed as I fought off all thoughts of him and Krissy together. I had to do something to purge him from my mind. But there was no one to go home to. Amanda was spending her nights with Zane due to the tour, and Ferbie, who’d opted out of coming on tour with me this time, had been seen once every couple of days, as Sade had taken him over, all to herself. Jealous I was, yes, but he was happier than I’d ever seen him, so I no longer interfered with his life.
Lion wasn’t in SF, and Jamie or Amy’s shoulder was out of the question.
Saskia Day was alone and heartbroken.
But I brought this on myself, didn’t I? I persisted and forced something that wasn’t supposed to be, and in the end it backfired. Of course, he never wanted me. He used me as a distraction from her. And at the first chance she presented, he leaped. Saskia who?
Reaching into my bag for my cellphone, the bitter part of me took over, tapping out a quick message:
I hope she hurts you
Face to the dirt you
I hope she uses you
Spits on & refuses you
I hope she crushes you
Shits out & flushes you
I hope she breaks you
Pricks and deflates you
I hate you.
Hate you.
I hate you.
Hate you.
I do not wish you all the fucking best.
I do not wish you find foreva happiness.
All I have are curses.
Curses
Curses
With no fucking reverses.
I. Hate. You.
Thumb hovering over the send button, I contemplated sending it, asking myself if that’s how truly I felt.
Yes.
I hit send.
That was it. Jahleel Kingston and Saskia Day were finished. But then, there never was an ‘us’ to begin with.
Thomas drove me around town for about an hour, until someone came to mind. Remembering how weird he’d been about his phone number the last time, and his strict instruction not to text back when he messaged me, I decided to text him instead of calling.
R u here?
S.D.
Five minutes later:
Good timing. Just got in. You OK?
——
Can I c u?
Another five minutes passed.
Yes. Where are you?
——
Send me ur addy & I’ll come 2 u.
Aptly so, Chad resided in Russian Hill, in a high-rise building that looked quaintly charming on the outside. But when a tall, muscular, dark-skinned man met me outside to escort me into the building, the modern décor inside contrasted sharply to the outside with its solid colours, stainless steel, glass and sharp angles.
The escort entered a code in the lift, and I was reminded Chad was a Niiveux.
The lift doors soon opened to the foyer of a magnificent open-floor-plan penthouse. I stepped out and the doors closed, swallowing up the big man and shutting me in.
Designed with a deep brown and beige colour scheme, the space gave off a warm, masculine vibe. The only touches of colour showed up in wall paintings and decorative tchotchkes.
There was no one in sight, except for three large, girly pink suitcases sitting upright near where I stood. As I stepped further into the apartment, a tiny Hispanic woman looking to be in her mid-thirties materialized.
“Hello—” she started, then stopped, eyes widening as she pointed a finger at me, “Oh, oh, you Saskia Day!”
She slapped a hand over her mouth and glanced around nervously, as though she’d be in grave danger if caught losing her composure.
Clearing her throat, she regained her poise, turned and signalled for me to follow. “Right this way, Miss Day.”
She led me through the impressive penthouse and out to a balcony where Chad was talking on his phone in a language neither English nor Russian.
With a nod from him, the housemaid turned and exited.
I was left with the man I knew I should steer clear of.
But, why? Jahleel broke his promise before I even left for tour, so it was only fair I could break mine. Promises meant nothing anymore.
Fresh and simple as usual, Chad was semi-formal in jeans and a white button down shirt. Except, the buttons were all undone, exposing a hard chest of tattoos. Cuffs were also undone, left flapping open at his wrists. Barefoot.
His hair had grown longer, almost meeting Jahleel’s normal length, but not nearly as thick or perfect. Chad’s was thinner, with loose, wet-like waves. He was half the cool, suave Chad I knew, and half the square-shouldered, power-possessed man I’d glimpsed in L.A.
As his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me while he spoke on the phone, I anxiously shoved my hands in my shorts pockets.
What the hell was I doing here?
In a finite tone and unidentifiable language, he ended the call. We stood watching each other for a moment, until he took a few steps to close the short gap between us. “You were crying.”
“Maybe I was.”
Instead of asking the reason, he asked, “Don’t you leave for tour in a couple of hours?”
And instead of asking how he knew that, I answered, “I do.”
Chad was a man who a woman couldn’t stand within his radius and not think about sex. The man was sexually
attractive in every way. In the way he spoke, walked, focused.
So, having his inked chest right there in my face, there was no way I could not move further in and touch his hard heat of ink artistry with the tips of my fingers. Fascinated, I rubbed my whole palm over his pecs, and he caught my wrist to stop me.
As he made to say something, a female’s voice cut through, “Cousin?”
I turned my head to see a slender, raven-haired girl, pretty, but no older than seventeen, standing at the entrance to the balcony.
Her obsidian eyes landed on me first, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh. My. God. You’re Saskia Day!”
“Yep. That’s me,” I smiled at her exuberance.
“I was just unpacking while listening to your latest album. I have all of them! I like love, love, love you! You’re super-duper awesome! And you’re—”
Same as the housemaid did earlier, she slapped her hand over her mouth and shifted her gaze nervously to Chad behind me.
He must have shown his approval because she removed her hand and grinned. “It’s okay if I ask her to sign my albums and posters?”
“You may,” Chad said from behind me. “But not now. Later. What is it you wanted?”
Scooping her long hair to one side, she mumbled, “I was just going to bed…and wanted to tell you…thank you. For everything.”
Moving by me, she went to Chad, tipped up on her toes and gave him a peck on his cheek.
Chad returned a kiss to her forehead and jerked his chin to the door. “Get some rest, Alina.”
She glanced at me, then back at him. “I want her autogra—”
“You’ll get them.”
Taking his word for it, she spared me another giddy grin and left.
Without thinking, I stupidly blurted, “You’re not in love with her, are you?”
Chad raised a brow at me and I immediately apologized like an idiot. “Forgive me. I don’t even know why I asked that.”
“Yes, you do,” he said knowingly. “Alina’s my aunt’s daughter. Real blood. Her parents just got…killed. I’m her guardian now.”
“Oh,” I murmured. “Sorry about your aunt.”
I knew all too well about taking over with siblings. Even now I found it hard to let go of Timber and Ferbie.
Chad shrugged, as if it was nothing. “Shit happens.”
Taking my hands in his, he brought them up between us and squeezed them. “I assume you were crying because JK was, well, himself. You were hurt. Now you’re here.”
Lowering his head, he gave me a soft, soothing kiss, then drew back and continued, “But I’m no rebound fuck. I’m not a man who screws around. Whenever I engage in a relationship, I take it seriously. I only pursue women I can have something meaningful with. Because my time is valuable. Each and every second of it. So I never waste it on mindless, meaningless shit.” He paused and studied me. “You’re hurt. You’re broken. You’re fragile. And I’m not some horny, starstruck teenager dying to stick my dick in you.”
He released my hands and cupped my face, his tone switching to one that warned against rebuttals. “So, here’s what we’re going to do: you’re coming to bed with me, and I will hold you because you need to be held. You’ll fall asleep in my arms because you’re weary and worn. I’ll wake you up at 5am and you’ll leave to do what you must do to head out on tour. You’ll forget about me, you’ll forget about him, and channel all your energy and focus into your work. Block your mind to all irrelevancies, like love. In six months’ time, you’ll return with a fresh mind and a clear head. If you still want me then, come to me. Because I’ll still have the taste of your kiss imprinted on my brain.”
A warm feeling flowed through me and I sighed. For the first time, I felt something other than sexual attraction for him. I could grow to love this man. Chadrick Niiveux. He was what I needed. Controlled, calm and calculated. No nonsense, no bullshit. While Jahleel was a fuck-around, full of shit.
“Okay,” I agreed in a breathy voice, watching his lips, wanting to kiss him, but knew it was off limits…for now. Six months from now, I could taste those lips.
Chad retrieved his cellphone, dialled off a number, and told whoever answered on the other end, “Retiring. Shut down.”
Then he wrapped an arm around my waist, led me to his bedroom, and we did just what he decreed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dreams have ended
In the black of the night
Tears she cried
Let her heart die
Hopes have faltered
When blue velvet skies
Swallowed whole a silver line
Fate’s far, no more
Tonsils swollen
Eyes undead
Her tears for her
Her curses for him
Nose engorged
Eyes rim red
Her tears for her
Her curses for him
Is he happy?
She doesn’t fight.
Is she happy?
He doesn’t fight.
Fortune and her wheel
Icarus and his sun
Nature and her wind
Moth and his flame
Tonsils swollen
Eyes undead
Her tears for her
Her curses for him
Nose engorged
Eyes rim red
Her tears for her
Her curses for him
Curses for him
Curses for him
Her tears for her
Her curses for him
But who?
WHO gives a fuck?!
I belted out the last line with a feral roar, putting heavy emphasis on the swearword then dropping it in the mike with a sharp, abrupt end, the electrical waves of that last line traveling in echoes over the arena.
The crowd waited with bated breath, unsure if that was the end of the song, or something else was coming, as this was yet another new song I dropped at the end of a show.
One, two, three seconds passed, and when the audience realized this was the end, an uproar of screaming and whistling erupted.
I grinned out at the crowd, at the masses of fan-made posters with my name on them. ‘We love you Saskia Day!’, ‘You are my idol!’ ‘You fucking ROCK!’ ‘Be my BFF! Please!’ were just a few of the praises I could make out.
Crossing my forearms, I gave them my signature bow and started off stage. “Now, you all know how I say goodbye, don’t you?”
The crowd raved, bellowing my signature goodbye before I even began. I waited until the clamour abated, then began, “Sweden, this was…”
The crowd picked up, “Bloody awesome!!”
“This was…”
“Bloody awesome!!!”
Moving back as the spotlight dimmed on stage, I shouted, “Sweden, I said, this was…”
“MotherfuckingAwesome!!!!!!”
The lights went out, the crowd went nuts, and I bounced off stage.
The microphone was immediately pried from my hand. A hand-towel replaced its position, and a water bottle was shoved in my other hand, while roadies fussed around me removing ear-mikes and wirings.
Once I was free, the tour manager, Mikael, took me by the elbow and propelled me down the hall heading to the exit with Thomas and John flanking us. We couldn’t linger a second longer if we wanted to make it to our next destination in time for tomorrow night’s show.
“Did Manda make it back?” I asked Mikael as we got to the back door.
The guards there promptly opened it, and Mikael guided me out as he answered, “Yeah. Zane dropped her off an hour ago. She’s out cold on the bus.”
At the sound of his voice, a contradictory combination of gravelly and velvety, I peeked up at his profile and smiled.
My usual tour manager was a lanky lesbian brunette named Melissa. But this time, it was Mikael, hired behind my back by Lion. All the time Lion and I planned this tour, I thought he was passing on my requests to Melissa, so one might imagi
ne my surprise to see Mikael the morning before we left.
Lion had some underlying intention when he hired Mikael, I believed.
At around six four, Mikael was a sight. He was all muscles, not the steroid-ridden type, but the scrumptious, I-want-to-rake-my-nails-all-over you type. He had buzzed dark hair, dazzling blue eyes, perfect white teeth and a commanding alpha attitude. He wore black, only black, and spoke only when necessary.
But surprisingly enough, even though his attraction to me was obvious, I kept things on a professional level, disregarding his hot bod and good looks, remembering Chad’s command to focus on work and block out all irrelevancies. So that’s what I did for the past three months I’ve been on tour.
“I can feel your eyes on me, you know,” Mikael said in that damn arousal-awakening voice as we approached the bus.
Thomas and John split up behind us, going around the bus to check the tires and for lurking lunatics.
“So?” I shot back. “I can’t look at the badass in black who’s guiding me by the elbow? Maybe you should consider wearing a mask like Batman.” I twisted my mouth to the side, “Hmm, but people would stare twice as much then, wouldn’t they?”
Like hell if I couldn’t look at a hot guy! Not after being single and stuck on the road with absolutely no intention of getting entangled. I was, of course, looking forward to going home to Chad. We could be something together. But that was three months from now. So until then, I pleasured my eyeballs with whatever eye-candy was in sight, going by the rule ‘look but don’t touch’.
In the darkness of the night, I might have glimpsed the mighty Mikael roll his eyes, but I wasn’t sure.
To change the topic, he said, “Lion said to tell you, and I quote, ‘save those fuckin’ new songs for the next album’.” We reached the bus and he opened the door. “You’ve sang about fifteen new songs since you started the tour. And they’re all incredibly good. Billboard potential.”
My turn to roll my eyes. “Tell Lion not to worry. When you have a broken heart, lyrics come to you in abundance.”
When I made to enter the bus, I only got one step up, because Mikael was still holding onto me. I peered over my shoulder at him to find him staring at his hand on my arm.
Catching himself, he let go of me and cleared his throat.
