by Jayne Frost
Shrugging, he plopped onto the sofa, displacing at least a dozen used tissues. “Well, usually I just invite them in. You’re the one who was always so skittish about the fans.”
“First of all, he’s not a fan. He’s my bodyguard.” Miles lifted a brow like that proved his point. “Did you happen to see that little kerfuffle I got into in Paris? I don’t just have a bodyguard to keep the fans away. The fucking press is at DEFCON-1.”
“What the hell is a kerfuffle? Never mind.” He plucked a shortbread cookie from the package. “And what did you expect? Your new boyfriend is a hot piece of ass. If you want the press to stay away, you should lower your standards.”
Earl Grey flew out of my nose. “Boyfriend?”
“Don’t even front, Belle. I’ve known you since you were fourteen.” He wiggled his finger in front of my face. “You look at that dude the same way you used to look at Rhenn. All starry-eyed and shit.”
I waited for him to pull a face. But he didn’t.
Gazing into my cup, I lifted a shoulder. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Really? Do tell.” Miles sat back, folding his hands in his lap. I chanced a peek at his face to see if he was merely humoring me.
“Are you sure? I mean, Dylan’s head would explode if I even mentioned—”
“What do you expect? He’s in love with you. Or he thinks he is.” He snorted, then continued in his best Dylan voice, “‘It’s Monday, better pine for Tori now. Then flog myself for betraying my best bud.’ He does the same thing every other day of the week, too.”
I shifted uncomfortably, partly because I knew it was more fact than fiction. “Why do you think that is? After all this time, I mean.”
Miles laughed. “Because he saw you first, of course.”
“He did not. We were all in the cafeteria and—”
“Nope. Dylan scoped you out before that. He told us about you and even said you had a couple of friends. Rhenn and Beckett and I were supposed to play wingmen. Keep Paige and Taryn distracted so Dylan could make his move. But Rhenn took one look at you and it was all over. Nothing was going to get in his way.”
Singular focus in all things. I smiled. “I didn’t know that.”
Miles patted my knee. “Well, you do now, so don’t pay Dylan no never mind. What about Logan? What’s his story?”
For some reason, it was always easier to talk to Miles. No judgment. Only love.
With a sigh, I told him about Logan and the tour. Our cross-country road trip. Glossing over most of the details about Paris, I only hit the high points.
“So you love this guy, then?” Miles asked when I’d finished.
So much it hurt. I fought everyday not to call him. Beg him to choose me. To choose us. But I couldn’t admit it.
“Yes. But it’s not that easy.”
“Nothing is easy.” He snorted. “When something is too easy, you gotta figure it ain’t worth having or you’ll pay for it somewhere down the line.”
I nodded, smiling to myself. “Balance.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” I finished my tea and set the cup on the table. “Listen, I wanted to thank you for signing over your stake in the catalog. As soon as this is resolved, I’ll give it back.”
Miles let his head fall against the back of the couch. “I never cared about that. I have more money than I can spend, and those were your songs anyway. I’m not telling you not to fight for the catalog, but you shouldn’t worry so much about the Damaged legacy.” We sat in silence for long moments before Miles looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “So tell the truth. When you were out there on the road, did you ever think about performing?”
“A little.”
He grinned wide and shook all over, the way he used to when he was excited. “Ah … Belle, what I wouldn’t give to be up there just one more time, the four of us.”
“I know. Me too.” For a moment, I felt that shimmer, and it was like they were there with us. Paige and Rhenn. And then it was gone. “I have to go. Big scary dude is probably hungry. Walk me to my car?”
Miles pushed to his feet with surprising ease. Now that it wasn’t so painful, I looked him up and down. Tall and lanky, like always. And his arms were seriously ripped.
“You’ve got some guns,” I said, squeezing his bicep as we walked to the door.
He flexed, waggling his brows. “Control yourself, woman.”
When we got to the porch, the smile fell from Miles’s lips when he saw Rhenn’s truck.
“Do you remember when Rhenn got that thing?” I asked as I pulled the fob from my pocket. “I think you were almost as excited as he was.” Finding his hand, I pressed the keys into his palm and then smiled up at him. “Do me a favor and take care of it for him, okay?”
56
The waitress came by while the band was in the lounge waiting for our early morning flight out of hell. Or Paris. Same thing. While the rest of the crew placed their orders for orange juice, I glanced over my shoulder at the pretty bottles of medicine. Which were really just liquor. Fuck Xanax when Jack and Jim and Johnny were available without a prescription.
When the waitress shifted her focus my way, I tossed the menu I’d been pretending to read on the table. “I’ll take a Bloody Mary.” Sean stomped on my foot, and like a whipped dog, I amended, “Virgin.”
I was on thin ice and I knew it. Cameron still wasn’t speaking to me. Christian was on the fence. Which left Sean as the odd man out since he had my back. Of course, he was the only one who knew my relationship with Tori wasn’t some sleazy road hookup. Regardless, my best friend was going out on a limb, so I basically did the one thing he asked: I stayed sober.
During the day, at least.
At night I sucked down everything I could get my hands on … but always alone. No bandmates around to give me dirty looks. No women, because every woman was Tori, and if I got drunk enough …
Well, I didn’t want to take the chance.
That’s what jerking off was for, anyway. Unfortunately, whiskey dick was a bitch, and my hand got tired before I finished most of the time.
I could usually pull off a good wank in the morning. But only because I kept a bottle of Tori’s body wash in the shower and, once the steam gathered and all that honey scented mist wafted to my nose, I was a goner.
“Sir?” The waitress was giving me a weird look, and I realized I’d spaced out, so I flipped my attention her way and raised both brows. Talking with a hangover was overrated. “So … you just want tomato juice then?”
“Don’t forget the celery,” I replied with a bitter smile. “I haven’t eaten breakfast.”
Everyone went back to checking their phones or their iPads while I picked up Tori’s worn copy of Wuthering Heights. She’d highlighted several lines, which I regularly, depending on my level of inebriation, fed to my text to speech app to decipher.
Willow sidled up, and since she was the one person I was never mad at, I gave her my warmest smile, which she returned with a wide-open grin that melted my insides.
“I got a book too, Unc Lo,” she said proudly as she placed the little hardback in front of me. “The. Cat. In. The. Hat.” She pointed to each word as she said it, then lifted her gaze to me. “You wanna read to me?”
I wasn’t a really deep guy, but something told me this was my moment. That little stitch in time where I was forced to look at what my life had become and what this problem of mine had cost me. And what it would continue to cost me.
While I sat there and gazed into expectant blue eyes I’d have no choice but to disappoint, I could feel Tori’s letter in my pocket.
“I … uh …”
Sean scooped his daughter up and set her in his lap. “Uncle Lo will read to you later. Drink your juice now.”
Pity was the worst fucking emotion on the planet, and that’s what I saw in my best friend’s eyes when our gazes collided.
Fuck that.
I pushed out of my chair, and he made no move to stop
me. And that was worse, since he knew where I was going—to find something to ease the shame. Dull the hard edges that came with being me. I’d used women for that. And fighting. But right now, I needed a drink. Just one fucking drink.
But what would happen when there was no more booze?
An image of my father popped into my head as I pushed my way out of the lounge. He’s what I would become. A drunk. Bitter and mean and filled with rage.
My fingers clenched into fists when I saw the bar, but I willed myself to keep walking. And then I was at the edge of the terminal, facing a wall of windows. I’d run out of room. And out of time. All I had left was a dull ache in my chest and shame that I could feel to my marrow.
Staring at my reflection in the glass, I saw desperation. Need. And something so faint, it was barely visible. Hope. The one thing Jake had never beat out of me. But soon it would be gone. Unless I changed. But I wasn’t even sure where to begin.
57
Trevor sat at the head of the conference room table, a “cat that ate the canary grin” on his face.
“This is just like The Godfather,” he crowed, and when Taryn, Chase, and I blinked at him, his smile fell just a little. “You know, that scene where Michael Corleone says something like, ‘Today I take care of all family business’?”
I’d never seen the movie, but Chase obviously had, because he tipped forward and gave Trevor a serious look. “So which one of us is Fredo? I don’t want to be Fredo. Just sayin’.”
“Why don’t you want to be Fredo?” Taryn asked, her gaze volleying between her man and our attorney.
I was curious as well, but I wasn’t about to give these two idiots the satisfaction of knowing that, so I just rolled my eyes and smoothed a hand over my T-shirt.
“Fredo gets whacked by his brother,” Trevor explained, making a slashing motion across his throat. “And dumped in Lake Tahoe.” And then in what I thought might be an Italian accent, he added, “Fredo sleeps with the fishes.”
Taryn winced. “I don’t want to be Fredo either.”
“Fucking hell,” I said to Trevor, fed up. “I’m going to kill you myself if you don’t tell me why we’re all here.”
Chase muttered, “Obviously, she’s not Fredo.”
Trevor shook his head, widening his eyes as he picked up a folder. “Nope. She’s Sonny.”
I was hoping Sonny was some badass ninja chick, but that hope was dispelled when Chase looked over at me and said sympathetically, “Sonny was nuts. They whacked him at a toll booth. Sorry.”
Taryn stifled a grin, the guys laughed, and for the first time since I shagged ass out of Paris nearly two weeks ago, I felt my lips curve of their own accord. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. And then I wondered if Logan had ever seen The Godfather, and the ache was back, spreading through my limbs.
Baby steps.
When the laughter died down, I said in a somewhat more subdued tone, “This is fun and all. But I’m kind of busy, so why are we here?”
Taryn shot me a look. I hadn’t been to the office since I got back, so I’m sure she was wondering what I was busy with.
“First of all,” Trevor began, “what I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room.” Once we nodded our agreement, he pulled a document from the file in front of him, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger. “Have you ever heard of Sloane Ingram?”
“The reporter?” Taryn asked, sitting up straighter in her chair.
“Investigative reporter,” Trevor corrected. “She works for the Los Angeles Examiner. For the past year she’s been gathering information on Mac. We all know the guy is a sleaze. But this—” he shook the paper, “proves that he’s more than that.”
I reached for the document, but Trevor pulled it away. “No. I want your hands clean on this. Even I didn’t have a copy of it until this morning. It’s called deniability.”
“Aren’t people going to assume it’s us anyway?” Chase interjected. “We have the most to gain if this Sloane chick does a hatchet piece on Mac.”
Trevor laughed. “If this were a hatchet piece, I wouldn’t be about to feed it to the shredder.” He hissed air through his teeth. “This is going to get Mac indicted. He’s been strong-arming his artists for years. The men …” he sighed, shaking his head, “he just threatened them. But the female artists … Well, let’s just say the dude is a sick fuck who gets off on power.”
Easing back, I stretched my legs and folded my hands in my lap. “So what if Mac ends up disgraced? What’s that going to do for us?”
“Metro Music is a corporation,” Trevor explained. “Yeah, Mac started it and he owns a good portion. But he’s still beholden to the shareholders. And the board of directors makes the decisions. I’ve got an inside source who told me the board wasn’t too happy about taking on Tori Grayson.”
The muscles in my jaw tensed. I hated being referred to as a brand and not a person. “Why is that?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even.
“Because any suit against you is a loser,” Trevor explained. “Even if you settle, which you won’t, going after rock and roll’s princess isn’t good business.”
Princess …
I thought of all the times Logan called me that, and the ache in my chest swelled, doubling in size, taking on a life of its own.
“Anyway,” Trevor went on, looking a little dismayed by my lack of enthusiasm. “My source tells me that as soon as this hits the wire, Mac will be removed by the board, and the second in command will drop the frivolous suit against Twin Souls.” His smile widened, and two dimples appeared. “Probably even issue a public apology. That’s what happens in these kinds of situations. Mac is going to be thrown to the wolves. And if you knew what was in here,” he tossed the folder on the desk, his lip twitching in disgust, “you’d agree that it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
Taryn blew out a breath. “I don’t know, Trevor. Mac’s been in some pretty tough situations. He isn’t going to go quietly.”
“Mac isn’t going to have a choice. He’s going to prison. For how long, I’m not sure. As far as the board dropping the claims against Twin Souls—that’s going to happen even if Mac cops a plea. I’ve seen the paperwork.”
Digesting the news, my momentary elation cratered when I thought of Logan. I hadn’t told anyone about his contract. It wasn’t my place. Instead, I’d been quietly waiting for an announcement. And if I called him now, how would I ever know if he stayed with Twin Souls because he wanted to, or because he was out of options. And could I even handle hearing his voice? I’d avoided it for two weeks, letting his calls go to voicemail and only replying by text that one time.
I’m fine. Please don’t call anymore. We’ll talk when you get back.
“Tori?”
I snapped my gaze to Trevor. “Yes, sorry.”
“That other thing we talked about? The concert?” His eyes drifted to Taryn and Chase, who were suddenly more interested in the patterns on the carpet. “I think it would be better if you put it off for a few months. The venue fee alone is two hundred and fifty thousand. Three weeks isn’t enough time to make sure you don’t lose money on this venture.”
This was Taryn talking. She’d just enlisted Trevor as a voice of reason. So I turned in my seat and spoke directly to her. “This isn’t about profit. I’m footing the bill for this on my own, so if we lose money it won’t affect Twin Souls.” I sighed. “I’m not going to strong-arm the talent, and I don’t want you too either. We’re better than that. If any band on the roster wants to participate, we’ll make it happen. The proceeds, if there are any, go to Rhenn and Paige’s endowment fund.”
Taryn bowed her head, nodding. “We don’t have to strong-arm anyone. This is going to be huge. I don’t want to disappoint you, Belle. That’s all.”
Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I held them in. I’d cried more in the last two weeks than I had in the last two years. And I was over it. Not over the cause—Logan. I might never be over him. “You won’
t disappoint me.”
Trevor broke the silence when he said, “I’ll get the contracts drawn up. And Taryn can start working her magic.”
She winced, and I took her hand. “No pressure, T-Rex. This is about the music. Music is fun, remember? Music heals.” My gaze shifted to the window and the city I loved, and I smiled. “Music is everything.”
Two hours later, the Cessna landed at Huntsville Regional Airport. Trevor hadn’t spoken during the forty-minute flight, but as soon as we got into the waiting car, he turned to me.
“Have you ever visited someone in prison?”
Sweat broke out on my palms despite the air-conditioning. “No.”
“Do you have any questions?”
Picturing a guard taking me to a back room and performing a cavity search, I cringed. But it didn’t matter. I needed to do this. For Zoe.
“No.”
Mouth twisted to one side, he scrutinized me. “Okay. Take off the earrings. And the necklace. And you should be set.”
My hand shot to my Angel Caller. “Why?”
Since the day Logan put it on me, I’d never taken it off. It was stupid, but I liked to believe he could hear the chime. That it was our music. The music of us, and all that we’d shared. Because music went on and on. No beginning and no end.
“Because this is a prison,” Trevor said, voice firm and expression serious. “And when you step inside a prison you have to follow their rules. If they decide to confiscate something, they can. And if they decide to ship it back to you in pieces, they can do that too.”
With a nod, I undid the clasp.
Trevor cocked his head. “Is that a bell?”
Closing my fingers around the charm, I let the warmth flow through me. “No … it’s a song.”
The woman across the table looked me over, her lip curled into a sneer. There was no denying that she was Zoe’s kin. Same pale blond hair, pert nose, and big eyes. Only, there was no life in Courtney’s cornflower-blue orbs. They were dead, like the skin on my thigh. No feeling.
