Hard Lessons: (A Wild Minds Prequel Novel)

by Charlotte West

  “Send them in,” came the curt reply.

  “Go ahead,” Mrs. Paulson said. “Third door on your right.”

  Billy winked. “Oh, we know the way. Don’t we, little bird?” Billy grabbed my hand, pulling me down the hallway. “You coming, Jett?” Billy called back.

  “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Jett smirked, following.

  “Wait, Billy.” I halted.

  My father turned to me. “What is it, little bird? You got something you want to tell your old man before we go in there?”

  A crook of my finger, and Billy leaned down. “It was kind of my fault.” I played with my hands. I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Parker Woods took my crayons and…”

  “And?”

  One huge breath for bravery. “And I… I put superglue on his chair,” I finished, feeling better after confessing, but I’d deliberately left out the worst part. When Parker went to stand, his pants had ripped, torn straight down the middle, and he’d effectively mooned the entire class. Who knew Parker Woods didn’t wear underwear? Someone should speak to his mother about that.

  “Did you?” Billy quirked a brow.

  “Yes,” I said firmly.

  “Thank you for telling me. I forgive you.”

  I beamed as if blessed by the pope. Billy knocked once on Mrs. Richards’ door and walked through. We settled into the chairs in front of Mrs. Richards’ desk. Jett lounged against the wall, unlit cigarette hanging loose from his mouth.

  “Mr. Wanks and Mr…” Mrs. Richards raised a brow, a pointed look at Jett.

  “Janks, love,” Jett said. His voice made gravel seem smooth. “Jett Janks.”

  Mrs. Richards recognized the name. “Mr. Wanks, you brought your band mate to a meeting at your daughter’s school?” Her tone was even, but the tightness of her lips spoke volumes.

  Billy grew indignant. “Hey, now, curb the judgment, Richards. Jett’s much more than a band mate. He’s like Addy’s second parent.”

  Mrs. Richards’ cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wanks, I didn’t know that you were… That you are…”

  Billy snorted. “I love the ladies, Richards. I’m not gay,” he stated emphatically. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  “Nothing wrong with that at all,” Jett echoed in his deep voice.

  “That band that opened for us two summers ago, they had a drummer who was gay, yeah?” Billy turned, asking Jett.

  Jett scratched his stubbly cheek. “No, it was the lead guitarist, and I think he was bi.”

  “What’s gay? What’s bi?” I asked.

  Billy swiveled to me. “Shi—I mean shoot, little bird, I wasn’t planning on having this conversation with you until you were older. Like thirty or so. But I guess now is as good a time as any. When a man and woman, or a man and a man, or a woman and a woman—”

  “Or a man and a man and a woman,” Jett chimed in.

  Billy smiled. “Right, thanks, mate. Or when a man and a man and a woman really love each other or like each other or feel attracted—”

  “Mr. Wanks!” Mrs. Richards practically yelled. She put her hand to her chest. “Can we please focus?”

  Jett coughed out a laugh.

  Billy grinned, all white teeth. “Oh, right, sorry. We’ll talk about this at home, little bird.” He plucked my nose.

  I nodded, eyes as big as saucers.

  “Now, Mr. Wanks,” Mrs. Richards said, spreading her hands on her desk, “regarding Addison, this is the third time this week she’s been sent to my office. I fear that Addison’s behavior in the classroom is a reflection of her unusual, unstructured home environment.”

  Billy stuck a finger in his ear, pretended to clean it out. “I’m sorry, Richards, but it sounds an awful lot like you’re calling me a crap parent. Did you hear that, Jett?”

  “I heard it, mate. I heard it,” said Jett.

  Mrs. Richards was quick to correct, to cover. “Mr. Wanks, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Addison is a very spirited young lady—”

  Billy leaned forward. “That’s right. She is spirited. And she doesn’t do shi—crap unprovoked. I say that Parker kid had it coming.”

  “Had it coming,” Jett echoed.

  I dipped my chin in agreement. He totally had it coming. Thievery would not be tolerated. Not on my watch. I had a very strong sense of justice.

  Mrs. Richards took a deep breath. “Be that as it may, Mr. Wanks, I’m no longer sure Berkshire Academy is the right learning institution for Addison.”

  Billy’s face changed, his eyes narrowed and his cheeks flushed. “You’re kicking her out? After all I’ve done for this school? I coughed up a hundred grand at the school auction and my band played.” Heavy pause. “For free.”

  “We appreciate your generous contributions, Mr. Wanks. But I have other students to think of, and Addison is a continuous disruption. Perhaps if the circumstances of her home life were dramatically changed, we may reconsider, but until then…” she trailed off.

  “This is bullshit.” Billy stood, face outraged. “My little bird is an angel. An angel. You know what? You’re not kicking her out. I’m withdrawing her. Effective immediately.” He held out his hand to me. I knew better than to not take it. “C’mon.” To Mrs. Richards he said, “I’ll have someone come by later and get her stuff.”

  “Mr. Wanks, please, I can give you referrals to other schools.” Mrs. Richards rose.

  “Forget it, Mrs. Dicks. We’ll be just fine on our own. Won’t we, bird?” he asked. Again, I knew better than to disagree. I nodded.

  We bolted.

  As we settled into Billy’s car, an all-black sedan with a winged hood ornament, I looked in my lap forlornly and picked at my thumbnails. “I’m sorry, Billy.” I was nothing but trouble. Mama had said so plenty of times.

  Billy turned the steering wheel. “Forget about it, yeah? As far as I’m concerned you shouldn’t have ever gone there. That was my mistake. You belong with Uncle Jett and me. You’ll come on the road with us. I’ll get you another nanny and the best tutors available.”

  “I was bad,” I said. “I’m bad.” A hot tear slipped down my cheek. I never told Billy—I never told anyone—but I thought of Mama a lot. Sometimes nice thoughts, like when Mama bought a real live Christmas tree. We strung lights up all over the apartment, drank eggnog and listened to carols. And sometimes not-so-nice thoughts, like when Mama would have “guests” over. I would have to stay in my room all night. In the morning, I’d clean the apartment, sweeping cigarette butts and empty bottles into the trash. Good girls didn’t have shit like that happen to them.

  Billy slipped on his sunglasses. “You listen to me, little bird. You aren’t bad. You heard Mrs. Dicks. You’re spirited. You’re an angel, isn’t that right, Jett?”

  In the passenger seat, Jett nodded sagely. “An angel, mate. An angel amongst devils.”

  Ten years later

  The screams were deafening. Strobe lights blinded me. Smoke from the pyrotechnics crept around my ankles. On stage, my father sang, clutching a microphone with both hands. “You left me on the side of the road. A no-show. Our love a no-go.” I hummed along, the music rattling my bones, stirring my soul.

  “One more song, Addy,” a voice yelled over the din. “We need to head back to the bus to finish your homework.” At those words, my lips pursed in a pout. I turned on my heel, crossing my arms. A petite redhead stared back at me, her body locked in a similar take-no-shit position. She’d been my nanny for years. After a series of nannies who hadn’t worked out because I hated them, or Billy slept with them, or I hated them and Billy slept with them, we’d finally settled on Daisy. Sweet Daisy. Fresh out of teaching college, Daisy was whip-smart, young and pretty. A sister I’d never had. Plus she refused put up with Billy’s bullshit. I adored her. Billy respected her, even fell in love with her. A perfect combination.

  I tipped my chin up. “Three more songs.”

  “Two.” She eyed me speculatively.

  “Ha!” I
said. “I only wanted to hear the first two anyway.”

  “I would’ve let you stay for three.” Daisy grinned. “I’m going back to the bus. I’ll meet you there.” She poked me in the arm. “Twenty minutes, Addison. Or I’ll sic Trent on your ass.” A beefy, bald man with two gold front teeth, Trent was my father’s head of security. I’d seen him put down rabid fans as easy as tearing paper. Headlocks were a specialty of his. His other specialty? Wrangling me, of course.

  I dragged a finger over my heart and promised, “Cross my heart, I’ll be in the bus in twenty minutes to face my death by algebra.” Like any seventeen-year-old girl, I had a flair for the dramatic.

  Daisy waved and took off. I waited a moment to make sure she was gone. Across the stage, I spied Trent. He winked at me, gold teeth flashing. I mouthed “bathroom” and pointed in that direction. Trent jerked his head, giving silent permission. My steps were light as I slipped away.

  Another thing about seventeen-year-old girls, we lie. I guess that’s unfair to teenagers. Let me amend. I lied. A lot.

  I didn’t want to listen to more songs.

  I didn’t want to do algebra for the next two hours.

  And I sure as hell didn’t have to pee.

  All sorts of things went on backstage during a concert. Scantily-clad women danced. Bottles of booze were chugged. Expensive drugs were snorted. I’d seen a lot. But I hadn’t done a lot—this all in spite of my father, who treated the world as his personal pleasure palace. Tonight I vowed to break my alcohol cherry.

  I lifted a bottle from the open bar. Not a hard task. The bartender was busy ogling one of the aforementioned scantily-clad women. Clear bottle of who knew what kind of alcohol clutched to my chest, I stole away down a dimly lit back hallway. I ground to a halt. Six feet away a security guy stood, hands on his hips. I recognized his back, his bald head—Trent. He hadn’t seen me. There were two doors, one to the left and one to the right of me. I dodged left. Ducking into the room, I closed the door softly behind me, leaned against it, squeezed my eyes shut, and willed my heartbeat to calm.

  “Hi.” A deep voice startled me.

  My eyes flew open. My mind blanked.

  My first coherent thought: Wow.

  A guy lounged on a gray couch. Lamps scattered the room, but only one was lit, a piece of purple cloth strung over it. Half of him was in shadow, but the half I could see… it did things to me. Bad things. His hair was shaved on both sides, but long on top and slicked back. He had thick brows set over blue eyes the color of a glacier. His nose was straight and adorned by a septum piercing. A bull ring. Colorful tats, I couldn’t tell what of, ringed his neck and dipped below the collar of his plain tee. He licked his lips, drawing my attention.

  “Whatcha doing?” he asked, arching a single brow.

  Still in a daze, I held my pilfered bottle aloft. “Just looking for a private place to drink this.”

  He stood and sauntered toward me, his muscled frame graceful. Two feet away he whistled low and took the bottle from my sweaty hands. “The hard stuff, I see.” He flashed the label at me. Seltzer water. Damn.

  My cheeks flamed. “Oh. I guess the bartender gave me the wrong one. I wanted to party.” God, I sounded stupid. I wanted to slap myself. Hard.

  He towered above me, a foot or more over my five feet two inches. I’d inherited Billy’s eyes and bone structure, but not his obscene height. The hot stranger chuckled. “That so?” He set my seltzer water down on a table. “How about a beer instead, party girl?”

  A moment later, I heard the hiss of two bottles being opened. I still hadn’t looked up. A bottle waved under my nose. I studied the big hand attached to it—the short fingernails, the rough calluses. “You’re a guitar player?” I asked, taking the bottle.

  “Party girl knows her musicians.” He stepped away and collapsed back on the couch. Legs spread wide, he took a long draw of his beer. “You a big fan of the band?”

  “Band?”

  “Man, you’re something. Wanks and Janks, you like them?” he asked.

  “I’m kind of required to.” I fidgeted with my VIP badge, flipping it over, hiding my name, which declared me the illegitimate love child of Billy Wanks. I sipped the beer and nearly choked at the bitter taste.

  Another chuckle. “You okay?” A frown creased his brow. “You’ve had beer before, right?”

  “Oh, yeah.” To demonstrate, I gulped down the beer. “This is great. The taste, it’s very smooth,” I said in a rasp.

  “Riiight,” he said.

  I took a step and then another until I was by the couch. I sat down, placing myself in the corner. Our knees grazed. “What kind of guitar do you play?” I asked.

  “Well, when I play it’s usually lead, but lately I’ve been on vocals. My brother and I switch out from time to time.” A whole fifteen seconds ticked by. “I’m War,” he said, hand outstretched.

  I blame the beer for what I said next. “I’m Peace.” I slapped a hand over my mouth. Yeah, definitely the alcohol. What an awful time to discover I was a lightweight.

  “Cute,” he said. “Real cute.” He studied me, gaze sliding down my body. I wore a skirt Daisy had stitched me from an old pair of jeans. We’d argued over the hemline with Billy. He wanted ankle length, “think Little House on the Prairie,” he’d said. I wanted mid-thigh. We’d compromised at just above the knee. My white tee had the Wanks and Janks insignia on it, a tiger jumping through a flaming hoop. No wonder War had asked if I was a fan of the band.

  His big fingers wrapped around my wrist, gently removing my hand from my mouth. A sensual burn started at my elbow and blazed into my chest. The room felt too warm. “Do you always say shit like that?” he asked.

  “Shit like what?”

  “Whatever’s on your mind?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. It’s a bad habit of mine.” Word vomit and I were very well acquainted, best friends even. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I like it. What’s your real name?” He adjusted his body, knee knocking against mine, creating a frenzy in my nether regions. A mere brush of the skin and I was ready to explode.

  “A-addy.” I tipped the bottle of beer to my lips to take another sip. It was empty. How had that happened? I sat it on the floor.

  “Well, Addy, looked like you were hiding from something when you came in. Care to share what?”

  “Death by numbers and overzealous security guards.” I smoothed my hands down my skirt. “Speaking of which, I should probably get going. It was nice to meet you.” I stuck out my hand. He left me hanging for a moment. But then he grabbed hold, his palm warm and dry in mine.

  “Wild Minds,” he said, still holding my hand.

  “What?” I asked, all out of breath.

  “It’s the name of my band.”

  “Oh.” I tried yanking my hand back but he held fast. Strong bastard.

  “Party girl, Peace, Addy, can I ask you another question before you go?”

  Our handshake had turned into some odd variation of hand-holding. “I don’t see why not.”

  “You ever been kissed by a guy in a band?”

  “No.” I didn’t add that I’d never been kissed period.

  “You’re about to be.” A light entered his eyes just before he swooped down. A bottle crashed, breaking on the floor—the one from his hand. He’d dropped it. The smell of beer permeated the air. My arms moved of their own volition, looping around his neck. His skin was soft and smooth. His lips grazed mine. His tongue slipped into my mouth, teasing me. Stars exploded between my eyes. Everything inside me ignited.

  He paused. Withdrew. Serious ice-blue eyes on me.

  I frowned. “More, please.” I tightened my hold on him.

  He chuckled, a husky sound I felt through my whole body. “The fucking things you say.”

  “Less talky, more kissy.”

  He smirked. From that day forward, I’d be a sucker for a smirk like that. His hand slid down over my waist, cupping my bare thigh. My legs moved, wrapping a
round his waist. He pressed into me, thrusting. I could feel his hardness. “Jesus, I’ve been hard since you came in this room,” he ground out. He trailed kisses on my neck, little love bites that ratcheted up the tension building in my belly.

  I moaned.

  He reared up but only to remove his tee. Beautiful ink covered his body. I only had a split second to view it before he came back down to kiss me again. My nails dug into his back.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I didn’t hear the door open. I didn’t recognize the voice, too caught up in War’s hands on my body.

  “Get the fuck out, Billy,” Warren said against my throat. “This is a private party.”

  Billy. Did he say Billy? It felt as if I’d been drenched in ice-cold water. I pushed against my sexy tormentor. Peering over his shoulder, I saw my father and Trent in the doorway. I sniffed. The bottom dropped out of my stomach.

  What’s the worst thing that can happen to a teenage girl? Getting caught making out with an older guy… by her father.

  My epic fuckup knew no bounds. Sure, I’d messed up plenty of times. Driving before I had a license. Adopting stray animals without permission. Spraying water on groupies. But I’d never broken the cardinal rule. My father’s only rule. His grand edict. “I don’t want you to date anyone, little bird. But I imagine you will whether I like it or not. You may date anyone you’d like. A stuffy suit. A sweaty jock. Some pathetic lowlife who still lives with his mother. Anyone. Except a rock star. You mind me, little bird. Musicians are the worst sorts of people. I should know. I am one. They are selfish, manipulative and only care about one thing. I’d sooner be dead than see you with one. They’ll always break your heart. And to see you with one would break mine,” he’d warned me often.

  Everything happened so fast after I’d been caught with War. I was dragged back to the tour bus. Billy needed some time to cool down. He couldn’t look at me. Daisy ran off to talk some sense into him while I cried huge tears. Trent guarded the bus. No one got on, no one got off. Except Jett. He boarded and sat next to me on the black velvet couch. He tapped my knee. “Well, Wild Minds has been booted from the tour. Shame too, they were a great opening band.”