Surviving Faith (The JackholeS, #2)

by Joy Eileen

  I was grinning like a fool, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “I love you too. Talk to you tonight.”

  We disconnected, and I held the phone up to my ear for a moment longer before plugging it into the charger. I didn’t think sleep would come easy, but I must’ve been more tired than I’d thought. As soon as my head hit my Kill-scented pillowcase, I was dead to the world.

  My phone rang, pulling me out of dreamland. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled the blankets over my head. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, someone banged on the front door. My phone blinked, notifying me of the two missed calls from Trent. When my hazy mind registered the time on the clock, I was shocked to see I’d been asleep for eight hours.

  My sluggish body made its way downstairs after I threw on a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie. The banging was becoming persistently louder. When I reached the door, I visualized ripping the head off the person behind it. I wrenched it open to see Trent there, holding a big brown bag.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my tone more harsh than I’d intended.

  “I brought you dinner.”

  “I don’t think that's such a good idea. Besides, I have leftovers from last night.” I wavered about whether I should invite him in.

  “Wait, Faith. I drank way too much last night, and you know I don’t normally drink. I want to apologize to you, and I figured food would be a good start.”

  “Trent, it seems like this is all we do. We become friends, and then you try to profess something to me you shouldn’t. I tell you that friends are all we can be, and you blow up. Then, you apologize. The whole cycle is exhausting.”

  “I do want to be your friend, Faith. I'm sorry I made this difficult for you. I’ll admit I was wounded when you chose Kill instead of me, but I don’t have many friends, and I don’t want to lose you. I feel closer to you since you shared the notes with me, and I don’t want you to think you can’t come to me when you need help. Can we try again? Please.”

  I sighed, moving aside so he could come in. He smiled when he realized he was getting another chance. We walked to the kitchen to divvy up the Chinese food in silence.

  In the living room, I curled up on the couch, holding a pillow to my stomach. Trent sat on the floor, probably sensing that I didn’t want him too close to me. I turned on the TV, and we munched in continued silence. My phone beeped, and I grabbed it as a drowning person would a lifeline.

  Ryan had sent me a text,

  Hey Sexy. Do you want

  me to come over and keep

  you company later?

  I texted her back, hiding the phone from Trent's probing eyes.

  I thought you were

  working tonight?

  She responded immediately.

  Nah, I had the hangover

  of all hangovers.

  I could barely move

  this morning, let alone be

  around alcohol. So I called in.

  I contemplated asking her to come over, but I didn't want her to have to babysit me.

  I'm fine. I'm going to

  go to bed soon. I didn't sleep

  last night. I'll see you soon.

  Feel better.

  Trent and I finished our food in awkward silence.

  “So...are you going to be okay in this house by yourself?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I'll be fine. Kill hired a security company to come over tomorrow and install a system complete with surveillance cameras.”

  Trent’s face paled.

  “Don’t worry; it's just a precaution. The record company suggested it, since they're going to be in the spotlight soon.”

  “That makes sense,” Trent replied, still looking uneasy. The color in his face raced back in full force, catching me off guard at the sudden change.

  “Is that an engagement ring?” he hissed. His eyes were glued to my hand.

  I brushed the ring with my finger. “No. Yes. I don’t want to talk about it, Trent. If we're going to try this friendship thing again, then you need to respect my boundaries.”

  Judging by his face, he didn’t like this new rule. I was beginning to get fed up with our yo-yo relationship. I felt a connection to him since he’d been a part of our group, but my loyalty was starting to slip.

  He must have read my thoughts, because after a moment, he nodded. “You're right. I'll respect your request. I guess I'll get going. Call me if you need anything. Let’s try to get together before school starts.” He got up, and I followed him.

  “I will, and that sounds like a good idea. Goodnight, Trent,” I said, closing the door and locking it behind me. A huge sigh escaped my lungs.

  I tried to watch TV, but my mind couldn't grasp the show’s plot. Even though I’d slept for eight hours, my body still felt exhausted. After I cleaned up, I abandoned the living room for my bed. My phone rang, just as I snuggled under my blanket.

  “Good timing, Killer. I just got into bed,” I said, snuggling further down.

  “Ummm. What have you been doing?”

  Panic crawled through my veins, but I decided I needed to tell Kill the truth about Trent showing up. We needed to trust each other for this to work.

  “Well, I slept for about eight hours, and then Trent surprised me by bringing me Chinese food.”

  “What the hell?” he yelled into the phone.

  “I told him it wasn’t a good idea, but he explained he doesn’t have very many friends, and he didn’t want to lose me. He apologized about last night. We ate, and then he left. Nothing happened.”

  “I know nothing happened. I just don’t trust that guy, Slick. Please, promise you'll be careful. You're too nice for your own good.”

  I pictured him rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. Not wanting to talk about Trent any more, I decided to change the subject. “Are you alone?” I asked in what I hoped to be my best phone-sex operator voice.

  “I know you're trying to change the subject and damn it if I’m not going to let you.” I heard him shifting around in his rack.

  “The guys passed out about thirty minutes ago. I made sure they were out before I called you. What are you wearing, Slick?” His voice was low, and my veins ignited with liquid need.

  “Your shirt and a pair of panties.” My voice was just as low as his had been, even though I was alone in the house.

  “Are you wet? Are you ready for me?” he whispered.

  “Yes.” My voice was husky from lust.

  “Slide your hand down into your panties, Slick. Touch yourself and pretend it's my tongue.”

  I did as he requested and groaned when I touched my wet center.

  “That’s it; that's so fucking hot. My dick's so hard picturing you touching yourself. I'm stroking myself wishing it was your mouth.”

  Images of Kill's hand wrapped around his thick shaft brought me closer to the edge. My fingers picked up speed with his encouraging words.

  "Slick, I need you to come for me soon. I'm close, and I won't be able to hold off much longer."

  My wet folds pulsated around my fingers as I came, drenching my fingers from his words. Kill went right after me.

  “Fuck, that was hot,” he panted.

  I was afraid things would be awkward after we both came on the phone, but Kill launched into a recount of his day, erasing my fears. His voice and my self-induced orgasm had me melting into the mattress. We both giggled when I told him about Ryan's massive hangover. While Kill was giving me the history of the venue where they’d be playing, I couldn't hold back my yawns any longer.

  "Are you falling asleep on me, Slick?"

  "Ummhumm. An orgasm will do that to you," I said before yawning again.

  “I'll let you get some sleep. Call you tomorrow. Goodnight and I love you.” He blew me a kiss over the phone, and I blew one back to him.

  "Love you too. Have fun tomorrow. Show them how awesome my boys are." When we hung up, I let my body fall into a liquid state of relaxation, smiling as I drifted to sleep.

&
nbsp; The security team stormed through the house to set up the state-of-the-art system, while Kill and I texted throughout the day. When it was time for me to get ready for work, he had to go do sound check for the show.

  Work was a painful reminder Kill was gone. The unspoken rule nobody occupied the JackholeS table was acknowledged inside the bar. My heart ached every time I saw the empty table.

  "Hey, sexy bitch. How are you holding up with the boys gone?" Ryan asked, giving me a hug. Her face still showing signs that she was fighting a hangover.

  I shrugged out of her embrace. "Honestly, it hasn't set in yet. The house is so quiet, though."

  "If it ever gets too quiet, you can crash in my guestroom. Just don't expect me to do the girly sleepover shit. I love you, but not that much." She kissed me on the forehead and went behind the bar to yell at Dax.

  Jessie came in to work late, and I assumed it was to avoid me. I decided to let her for the moment, wanting to pull my thoughts together before I ambushed her.

  Bambi seemed to be on her best behavior, which meant she didn’t go out of her way to make snide comments to my face.

  Unfortunately, everyone wanted to know about the tour, so I was talking about the boys more than I wanted to. I had to answer questions like, where they’d be playing, when they’d be back, and whether I was doing alright all night. My mouth remained clamped shut in order to keep the frustrated scream bubbling in my throat from escaping.

  By the end of my shift, my body was dragging. Catcher came over to engulf me with his massive arms. The big bouncer whispered in my ear, "I'm here if you need to talk, Faithy. Let me know if someone is bothering you. I told Kill I’d take care of you while he was gone."

  "Thanks, big guy. I appreciate it." I told him before walking out to my car, thankful the night was over.

  My eyelids were closed, and I was tucked into bed when Kill called.

  "Hey, Slick. How are you?"

  I could tell by his voice he was pumped from their first show. A smile tugged at the sides of my lips. "I'm good, Killer. It was a long night; everyone asked about you guys. How was the show?"

  "Holy Shit, Slick. It was amazing. It was the biggest crowd we’ve ever played for. They knew our songs! It was fucking fantastic. The only thing that would’ve made it better is if you’d been there. Amy took some awesome footage and said she’d send it to you."

  "Tell her to email me. I can't wait to see it. I wish I could’ve been there. I'm so sorry I missed your first big show," I told him, infusing my voice with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. The thought of ditching Ray and flying out to be with the boys for a week or two ran through my head for the millionth time.

  "I'll tell her to email you. Don't worry about missing these shows; you'll be there for the important ones. The guys want to go out and celebrate. We're going to be stuck on the bus for two days. I'll call you later." His voice was still full of excitement.

  "Go; have fun. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I can't even keep my eyes open."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, Killer. Tell the boys I'm so proud of them. Go have fun, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

  "Alright," Kill said, his voice hesitant.

  "I love you, Killer."

  "Love you more, Slick."

  I was asleep as soon as we hung up.

  The next day I slept in and forced myself to go for the most boring run ever. Without Kill motivating me, I had to fight for every step.

  Kill and I texted back and forth throughout the day. They were having spotty signal on the bus, making his responses come slower. To waste time, I ended up buying a book on my Kindle, something I hadn't done in forever.

  D had scheduled The BackDoor Ninja's to take their spot at Ray’s. I wasn’t sure whether I was being biased, but they weren’t as good as my boys, but the ladies seemed to keep coming back, which meant Ray wasn’t complaining.

  CHAPTER 26

  The days slithered by like a chilled snake. Kill and I talked as much as we could. He was having a hard time accepting the amount of support the band was getting from the fans.

  Trent and I had coffee once before our last semester started. He wanted to get together again, but I kept putting him off. Jessie continued to ignore me, which broke my heart everyday she turned away from me.

  The first day of school arrived. I was so excited for my final class. For weeks, I’d immersed myself in fiction, falling in love with different characters. I was ready to take this class and learn the ins and outs of writing.

  Kill texted me that morning, telling me to call him as soon as my class ended. He answered on the first ring. I sat in my car, too upset to drive. I began my pent-up rant before he could even finish saying hello.

  "Okay, I need you to slow down, Slick. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

  I sucked in a breath of air. It felt cool inside my burning throat, passing over the bitterness of disappointment that had been doled out to me.

  "The stupid smug-assed teacher sauntered into the classroom. You would’ve laughed at me. I went into total dorky-student mode. My brand new notebook was out, my pen was poised above it. I was ready to capture the words of wisdom she would bestow upon me. I swear, Killer, my cheeks burned from how much I was smiling. And then, she just says, 'write something,' and smiled at us." I ground my teeth together and took another breath. "She didn’t even have the fucking decency to give us any pointers. She said she wanted us to put something in her office mail every Monday. I don’t even have to come to fucking class. I just have to drop whatever the hell I write in her mailbox. She didn't even specify a length. She just kept repeating the word something. I can’t believe I waited for this class for so long and all I get is, 'write something.' What a waste!” I hit my steering wheel, frustrated beyond belief.

  “I'm going to drop this damned class immediately. My petition to graduate has already been accepted. I don’t even need this class. There's no point to stay in it.”

  I let my head fall back onto my seat, drained by my emotional letdown. When Kill had mentioned I do something with my literature degree, I’d been both terrified and excited at the prospect. It had made me want to take this class so much more than I already did. I’d wanted the teacher to impart her wisdom, giving me enough tools so that I could earn a living doing something I loved.

  When she’d said those two simple words, I’d felt my new plan crash and burn. I was going to have to crawl back to my backup plan, pleading with it to take me back. The thought of working a boring job, utilizing my biology degree, soured my stomach. I feared my newly-crushed dream would allow the ulcers I’d finally gotten rid of to reunite with my stomach lining.

  “Don’t drop the class. I think it will be good for you.”

  I yanked the phone away from my ear in order to give it a stunned look, before placing it back.

  “Hear me out, Slick. This class is going to be good for you. You’ve always been the perfect student, taking copious notes and studying even when you knew the material forwards and backwards. This will allow you to make your own rules. I know you have stories in your head that would love to be put down on paper. Give it a chance. You said it yourself; you don’t need this class. So if you fail, it won’t matter.”

  “But if I drop it, I can come on tour with you,” I whined.

  It was a low blow, but I did miss Kill and the boys. Dropping the class would be a perfect solution. I’d tried it out, and it didn't work. I’d feel better about uprooting my life, knowing I’d tried. This way, it wasn't like I was giving up my dream to follow the man I was in love with.

  “Don’t play dirty with me. I think you need to take this class—for you. You are always reiterating you want to find yourself and not let your boyfriend shape you. This is the perfect opportunity to do that. Besides Ray needs you.”

  My vision blurred with tears. “You don’t want me to come on tour with you?” I asked, sounding just as broken as I felt.

  We’d been talking every day, stressing
over how much we missed each other. Was he just saying it to make me happy? Or had I drowned myself in a pool of irrational water? I didn't realize I was rubbing my ring until I looked down at my hands.

  “Don’t even go there. You know I miss the fuck out of you, but I also believe in you. I think this class is going to be a good experience. Do not think for a second I don’t want you in my rack with me every night.”

  I was caught up in a riptide of irrational fear, pulling away from him.

  “Whatever you're thinking, stop it now. I know how your brain works, and it's burying you in bullshit at this very moment. I can smell it. That little voice is convincing you I don’t want you. And you need to evict it immediately. You've lived under Jason’s rule for too long. I don’t want you to give up school for me, especially when you’re so close to being done. Because when you graduate, I'm never letting you out of my sight again. I just know how cathartic writing is for you. I want you to try it, and maybe it will help you heal. It will also show you how strong you are alone, and then you can realize how much stronger you are when we’re together.”

  My mouth hung open as he spoke. I swore that sometimes he was able to read my mind. “Okay, Killer. I'll stay in the class, but if I get a bad grade, I'm going to kick your ass."

  I tried to remove the doubt like he’d told me, but it was a thick, manipulative leech and it was holding on for dear life.

  “I love you, Slick, and I miss you. I'll call you tonight after the show.”

  “Love you too; have a great show.”

  I drove back home, refusing to obsess over my conversation with Kill like I normally would. Instead, I started obsessing over what I could possibly write.

  At home, I shuffled through the mail as I made my way inside. I opened a letter addressed to me with no return address, sporting a Portland postmark.

  My blood ran cold when I saw what was inside. Clenched in my hand was a picture of Kill with his tongue shoved down some girl’s throat, his hands firmly planted on her ass. I wanted to scream. I’d let myself become convinced he would be faithful to me. My hands moved to crumple the picture but paused when the background caught my eye.