Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars and Bad Boys

by Cassia Leo

  No. He was angry and weak, but he would not do this thing. He could touch a stupid glass bottle and not open it. Not drink it. He reached for it again, and his hand trembled. He pounded his fist into the dresser top to make the trembling stop. The cheap laminate cracked, reverb vibrating up his arm. It felt good, this pain he could tie to a specific action, this destruction he'd wrought on purpose. A power chord.

  He kicked the bed he'd slept in alone. The skanky bedspread pissed him off. He'd lain on that all night. He'd tucked Hailey underneath one just like it. He'd checked them into this nasty pit because he'd failed. Because he was fucking weak. Because he couldn't keep his hands to himself and his dick in his pants. Because he was a piece-of-shit alcoholic addict who destroyed everything he touched.

  He deserved this room. He deserved worse.

  And then he was slamming everything. Punching and clawing. Kicking and stomping. His body wild and beyond reason. Nothing was safe. Not the remote or the lamp or the stupid drinking glasses with their sanitary wrap. Not the painting of a buck bolted to the wall. Not the darkness. He yanked the dank curtains from their track and lost his balance, falling to the floor in a tangled heap, surrounded by musty fabric and debris, releasing a cloud of dust and filling the room with light.

  Oh God. He'd done this. Destroyed a hotel room like a rock-and-roll cliché. If only Colt could see him now, that would be the end of his hero worship. Nobody knew how hard he worked just to maintain some semblance of normal, how often he failed. The kid was better off without the spotlight, the celebrity, the fucking pressure. He shook, the adrenaline leaching out of his bloodstream, leaving him cold. The loss of control was as frightening as a blackout drunk.

  He yanked himself free, sweat and grime a sticky film on his clammy skin, and stood to survey the wreckage. The bottle, unbroken, spun on its side in the corner of the room. Four steps and he was on it. The glass was smooth and cool in his hand. One long step and he was in the bathroom. He broke the seal and poured it down the drain. Steady.

  He hadn't failed Hailey. He'd failed himself, by thinking he still couldn't face his own demons. He stared himself down in the mirror, the scent of the whiskey turning his stomach. He had and he could.

  His phone beeped. He had to dig through a pile of torn pillows to find it. One missed call from Krist. The only call he wanted, other than Hailey’s. God, did she even have his number? No, she didn’t.

  “I fucked up, bro.” In so many ways, in all the ways—

  “Are you still sober?”

  —except for the way that counted most. “Yeah.”

  Krist’s sigh of relief crackled their connection. “Then we can fix this.”

  “How? They’ve got your name attached to this thing too. Soon they’ll have Hailey’s. They’ll eat her alive. It’s snowballing. I don’t know what to do. You said you wouldn’t forgive me for destroying the band…” He dropped to the pile of bedding on the floor, the weight of this conversation too much to bear standing.

  “This won’t destroy us if we don’t let it. And you’re not worried about the band right now, are you?”

  He was, but it was second on the list. His biggest concern, his first and last thought, was Hailey.

  “I can’t let her deal with this alone.”

  “Do you love her?”

  The question brought him up short. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Relax. I’m not on your jock or anything. I have an idea for how to fix this, but it fucking sucks for me. I am not making the call unless you love this girl. Unless you want to ride off into the bullshit happily ever after sunset with her.”

  Is that what he wanted? A sunset ride into always? After three days? That was insanity. Except…her absence pained him. He knew he didn’t want to wake up in another hotel room without her, and he’d never felt that way about anyone before. “Yeah, I do.”

  Krist sighed again. “I thought as much. You know Madeline Fox?”

  “The pop diva? From the kids’ show?”

  “Diva is right, but she’s done with the kid stuff. I think she might be able to help.”

  “What? How do you know her?” It didn’t make sense. Krist didn’t party with pop stars.

  “Ward hooked us up for a musical play date. Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that she knows a thing or two about making a spectacle. And I think she’ll do me a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “One that’ll get people talking about something other than your dick. That girl can’t sneeze without someone drafting a press release.”

  “Okay.”

  “Give me an hour. I don’t know if it’ll help or not. You owe me either way.”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty

  Hailey trudged into her apartment, bracing herself for her sister’s anger. Well-deserved anger, because Hailey had gone off the rails. It was like she’d funneled every selfish impulse from the past few years into a single weekend. When she’d stayed up late to help with Chloe’s drama project or when she’d woken up early to do laundry so they’d both have something to wear, she’d thought that was who she was. A good sister. A good person.

  Poof. She’d signed that stupid contract and turned from Glinda the Good Witch into the Wicked Witch of the West. Disappearing from her life, abandoning her sister. She’d even called in a fake sick day just to hit the full three days of contracted sexual bliss. Well, she was a little sick—if temporary insanity counted as sickness.

  That was all over now. And next on the agenda? Sleep.

  “Chloe?” she called.

  No answer. She could feel the stillness in the apartment too. It was empty. Of all times, she could hardly blame her sister for not letting her know where she was. A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled out of her. She’d lost any right to demand explanations ever again, but maybe that was for the best. Her sister was an adult now. It was time Hailey started treating her that way.

  She took a hot shower, enjoying the massaging spray of hot water on her aching muscles. The flight plan had included a six-hour layover in Madison, which meant she arrived home late at night despite her early start. It also meant her back had bunched into knots from hours curled up on two plastic airport seats, watching the still frames of her naked body on TV.

  Cringing, she remembered the press speculation when she’d boarded the plan.

  The fact that this mystery woman hasn’t come forward indicates she wasn’t doing this for attention. If she were a paid escort, exposure could mean criminal prosecution in the state of Illinois.

  Paid escort? They meant prostitute. Somehow she was more offended on behalf of Lock and Krist. As if a woman would have sex with them for attention or for money… instead of the real reason. They were incredibly sexy, virile men, and any woman should be so lucky as to kneel beside them.

  Although she had a hard time feeling lucky right now.

  When she got off the plane, things had been impossibly worse.

  Sunday School Teacher or Sex Worker?

  They’d figured out who she was. How much worse could this get? She imagined press trucks parked outside the church, blocking all the parking spaces. She imagined the curious stares of the parishioners. Part of her wanted to stick her head in the sand, but morbid curiosity got the better of her. After dressing in loose sweats—a far cry from fishnets and high heels—she flipped the TV on, expecting to see herself invading the local news. Instead there was someone else’s mostly naked body twisting and writhing on the screen. Dancing.

  Pop star Madeline Fox was arrested late last night, but that’s not the surprising news. The surprising part was who did the arresting—namely, the Secret Service, after the performer started a flash mob, complete with a mobile sound system and backup dancers, on the steps of the Washington Monument.

  Well, that was the end of Hailey’s fifteen minutes of dubious fame—and she was damn glad about that. Even if it was at the expense of this other girl. At least Madeline Fox might be able
to sell some records out of it.

  Tomorrow she might very well get fired from her job.

  It was a good job. She loved the kids. And most important, the job had been the only thing available for an eighteen-year-old with no work experience or special skill set. Hailey had desperately needed a dependable job in order to keep custody of her teenaged kid sister. Well, Hailey had been taking care of Chloe for a long time, since well before her mother left for good, so at least she knew how to deal with kids. Pastor John had been kind enough to give her the job, but it was never supposed to be her entire life.

  So maybe this was a blessing in disguise as well. If she got fired, she could take a chance on something she really loved to do. Which was…

  Have sex with tattooed rock stars?

  Hah. So maybe she didn’t know what she wanted for a career. Figuring that out would be part of the plan. Besides, she didn’t want to have sex with other tattooed rock stars. Just one.

  Nope, wasn’t happening. Stop thinking about him.

  She searched the apartment for some clue as to Chloe’s whereabouts. Her sister’s room was surprisingly tidy. The haphazard posters and tickets and photographs stuck to the wall made it seem perpetually off-kilter, but there were no clothes on the floor or in the bathroom.

  She would have worried her sister had also pulled a disappearing act, except there was a coffee mug in the sink. No, two coffee mugs. Her eyebrows shot up. Not that she could judge her sister, not that she would judge her sister, but damn. Chloe had never brought a guy home. Neither had Hailey. Their apartment had been inviolate from the less fair sex.

  Until now.

  Rummaging through her bag, she found her cell and texted her sister. I’m home. Where are you?

  A minute later a call came in. “What do you mean, you’re home?”

  Even hearing her sister’s voice sent relief through her. “Home. The resting place. The soft spot. You must remember it.”

  “The news reports said you were in Vegas.”

  “I’m old news. They stopped paying attention.”

  “It would have been nice if I’d known that before I flew to Vegas.”

  Oh shit. “No. You didn’t.”

  But of course she had. Chloe was her sister. She’d known Hailey was in an emotional crisis, and she’d come to be with her. It was sweet but also…terrifying. “Where are you? At a hotel?”

  “Nah, they wouldn’t let us in. Didn’t even tell us you’d checked out or what.”

  Suspicion rose up, along with a healthy fear of her baby sis alone in a big, mean city. “Who’s we?”

  “Me and Tim.”

  Tim from church. Trustworthy Tim who she could count on to look after Chloe. Oh…oh.

  “Is he…? Oh God, he is, isn’t he?”

  “The father of the baby?” Chloe asked. “Pretty much, yes.”

  “I can’t believe you let me think it was some roadie from the tour.”

  “So you could march up to him and demand he step up before I’d even had a chance to tell him? No thanks.”

  “I wouldn’t have… Okay, that’s exactly what I did. Just to the wrong guy.”

  “Because you love me, Sis. I get that. But you have to let me work this out. I’m going to be a mother. And more than that…”

  “What do you mean, more?” Hailey’s stricken brain conjured images of twins and triplets.

  “Oh, Sis. Don’t be mad.” Chloe sounded on the verge of tears.

  That image morphed into worse things: Chloe hurt, Chloe scared. The baby. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Chloe sniffed. “Except that you weren’t there. That’s the only bad part. Everything else is good, Hailey. So good. I’m married.”

  Her mind went blank. “Married…to who?”

  “Tim,” she said, as if it were obvious. And maybe it should have been. But Hailey still hadn’t quite wrapped her brain around the idea of Tim—trustworthy Tim—knocking up her little sister. That he would marry her after doing so should have been a foregone conclusion, but all she could think was what if.

  What if Chloe had made a mistake? What if they couldn’t trust Tim after all? What if something went wrong and her sister ended up hurt or afraid or alone?

  Her chest panged, the same way it had when Chloe had first told her about being pregnant. Or maybe a little less painful. Maybe she was getting used to the idea of her sister as a grown woman. An adult. Someone who didn’t need a big sister to hover over her anymore.

  “I’m so happy for you,” she managed to say despite the cracking-open sensation in her ribs.

  “Oh, thank God,” Chloe gushed. “I wanted you to be there, but we were there at your hotel. Tim was demanding they tell us where you were, and they kicked us out. And the chapel was right there, right outside. It was a sign.”

  Hailey managed a watery smile. She made it through the rest of the conversation like the supportive big sister she had finally figured out how to be. The one who believed in her sister’s judgment and would stand by her no matter what. Which left Hailey exactly where?

  Alone in a small apartment, that was where.

  All alone.

  *

  The light was on in Pastor John’s office when Hailey got to the church. Her stomach clenched in anticipation of what he’d say. She couldn’t really imagine him browsing RedTube for sex-tape videos, but someone would have showed him. The thought of him disappointed in her—or worse, scornful—made her eyes sting with unshed tears.

  But in a way, she was glad to see him. Even though she’d come during off hours, like a thief, sneaking around to steal her own belongings so she wouldn’t have to see anyone, she was glad she’d have to face him. He deserved that much from her. He’d been so kind to both her and Chloe, and this was how she’d repaid him.

  Public humiliation. The name of the church had even appeared in some of the articles.

  Let’s get this over with.

  He always left the door open, with a welcoming policy to match. His head was bent, reading a book split open on his desk. Hailey rapped on the door frame to get his attention. When he looked up his expression morphed into one of…concern.

  “Hailey. Come in. How are you?”

  He didn’t seem angry at her. Still, she knew he had to be. She was angry at herself. Her steps into the office were soft, careful, as if walking through a land mine. Sitting in the worn, comfy chair threw her into the past, when she’d sat down for a job interview—nervous and expecting the worst.

  How was she? She was…torn. “I’m so sorry, Pastor John. Truly. I never thought that would happen; otherwise I wouldn’t have—” She clamped her lips together, having no idea how to finish the sentence. Wouldn’t have signed the contract. Wouldn’t have had a threesome in an elevator.

  And she wasn’t even sure it was true. She might have done it anyway, because God…God.

  She wanted Lock.

  The pastor smiled slightly. “You’ve had a lot of support at this church since it happened. Several parents have spoken to me on your behalf.”

  A little shot of relief poured through her. At least someone had wanted her here. “Really? But I’m sure there were more parents who wanted me fired.”

  “Oh yes. Fired and brimstone,” he joked, and she managed not to snort. Pastor John was always making puns. It reassured her that he could make them now, when it looked like the world had ended. As if things weren’t as bad as they’d seemed on that long trip home.

  He turned serious. “The parents aren’t the only person. Tim stepped up right in the middle of potluck. Said he’d quit if you were fired.”

  Oh no. Her chest constricted. “You didn’t do it, right? You told him not to?”

  “I was going to speak to him, but he…well, to be honest, he disappeared.” He gave a wry smile. “I’ve been fielding a lot of phone calls since then, but I have every intention of speaking with him. In fact, the board had just approved the job offer for him to become a pastor here.”

>   Well, that settled it. She knew what she had to do. “In that case you definitely can’t fire me. I quit.”

  His bushy eyebrows rose. “To make sure he keeps his job?”

  “That’s more important,” she said.

  Because he has a baby on the way. Because he’s married to my sister.

  She wasn’t sure he had told Pastor John, though, so she didn’t say anything. Besides, that wasn’t the only reason why. Being a pastor was his dream. She hadn’t even been that close of a friend to Tim, but she still knew that. And he was great at it. He was destined for the job.

  While she…was destined to pine after the guy she’d left in a musky motel room outside of Vegas.

  He looked solemn. “I know how hard you’ve worked, both here and with your sister. You deserve to have a long weekend off and not to suffer any consequences from that. But the preschool…”

  “Is too important to risk,” she said firmly. “Some of those families need this child care for their jobs, especially as affordable as it is. And even at the low cost, the school is a profit center for the church. Don’t worry about me. Seriously.”

  “I do worry about you,” he said slowly. “And not just because of this. I worry about whether you’re comfortable here. It’s hard to tell with you. You don’t complain much.”

  He said it like it was a bad thing. She recoiled, feeling that familiar sting of not belonging.

  “I tried my best,” she said softly.

  “Oh no, you were great with the children. We won’t be able to find someone as good as you. That’s a given. I meant you never seemed totally happy here. Not like Chloe.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Had he somehow gotten the sisters mixed up? Chloe was the wild, flighty one. Hailey was the staid, responsible one. “What are you talking about?”

  “Chloe has always been enthusiastic about the church. She’s full of enthusiasm and always suggests ways to improve things.” He shook his head ruefully. “Sometimes we struggle to keep up with her, but she’s exactly what this church needs. And I think this church has something she needs too.”