I didn't know the man who waxed poetic in my father's kitchen. “Are you drunk?” I asked.
“Nope. First beer of the night. Bri talked me into taking it easy. She taught me some stuff from rehab and we really talked while she was home. She thought I blamed her for the accident. I didn’t. It was a real nice visit. Ya know, she’s gonna be having a show Saturday night in Kansas City. We could make a father/son trip of it. Just for shits and giggles.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather go deaf,” I replied sarcastically. I was still mulling over everything he’d said.
“She’s not that bad. I have tickets. Just think about it, okay?”
“I’ll think about it. Thanks for the beer, Dad, and the talk.”
“It’s what I’m here for. I’ve become a real good psychiatrist since you’ve taken over the shop. Maybe I could set up a little lemonade stand and charge five cents like what’s-her-name…”
“You might be charging too much, Dad,” I laughed, tossing my empty can into the trash. “See you later.”
“I miss your hairy mug around here. Sleep here tonight.”
“I don’t know…”
“Come on. I don’t bite. You have your bedroom. It gets lonely being in this big house by myself.”
I let myself be guilted into staying. Truthfully I didn’t want to be alone either. We watched TV and eventually Dad fell asleep halfway into the eleven o’clock news. I covered him with a blanket from the couch and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. First, I peeked into the room where Brielle had stayed while she’d been home. Not long after she left, we had repainted it and removed everything that reminded me of her, , but I could smell her vanilla perfume as I opened the door and it made my chest ache.
Stepping inside, I closed the door quietly and walked over to the bed she’d slept in. Dad hadn’t changed the sheets yet, and the vanilla scent was strongest on the bed. I curled up on my side and blew out a breath. She was sick and running. Did I have the strength to run beside her? That was the question I didn’t have an answer to. I wasn’t sure if I could bank on forever with someone who wasn’t willing to let me run alongside her when life fell apart.
Chapter Twenty-One
All day Friday I thought about Brielle. It ate at me. I couldn’t figure out why she had lied and told me to slide home if she knew she was going back on tour. I hated being lied to more than anything in the world. If she was truly so sick, why was she doing more shows?
Diego knocked on my door and I pretended I was working. “What’s up?”
“We just had someone call and ask for a quote on a job.”
“Okay, no big deal, write it down and I’ll get to it in a bit.”
“No, Carter, you’re gonna want to talk to this guy,” Diego insisted and with a groan, I picked up the receiver.
“What line?”
“Two.” He hung in the door with a big grin on his face.
“Hello?”
“Is this Carter Travis?” a man’s voice asked.
“It is. Who am I speaking with?” I scrambled to find some paper and a pen.
“This is Logan Monroe.”
“Logan Monroe?” My heart skipped a beat.
“Yeah, from Skid423. Do you have some time to talk with me about a project?”
Skid423 was one of the biggest bands on the scene. They were based out of Seattle and had taken the indie rock scene by storm. I owned most of their records. They were one of my favorites and had been since I was a teenager. To say I was shocked was an understatement. “How did you get my number?”
“Brielle gave it to me. She and I were talking a couple months ago about my car and she said she knew a great mechanic. I looked you up and saw on your website you have custom paint services.”
“We do…” Brielle knew Logan Monroe from Skid423? And she’d told him about me? Holy shit.
“I have a 1967 Pontiac GTO that was my dad’s…I’d love to get it fixed up and be able to drive around in it. I was thinking I could have it trucked out to you and you could truck it back when the job’s done. I would come pick it up but scheduling ain’t gonna allow for that. What do you say?”
“That would be great! Let’s hammer out the details and I’ll get you a price…” Twenty minutes later, I hung up with one of my idols and took a slow breath.
“Well?” Diego prompted.
“He’s shipping the car here. It will be our first project in January. He wants it cherry red, slicked up, new engine. I quoted him twenty-five thousand and he didn’t bat an eye. He’s wiring the money to our account now.”
“Son of a bitch! That’s fantastic! Next thing you know you’ll have a show on cable fixing up cars.”
“Hey man, I’d be nothing without your killer paint skills.” I high-fived him and grinned widely. Life was good.
“Truth,” Diego grinned. “We need to go out and celebrate.”
Celebrating for two single men in their twenties meant only one place. Jacoby Jones. We strolled in the place like we owned it and I grinned as I saw Delilah at the bar. Sitting down on a stool, I caught her attention. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Well, well, well…Carter. I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see me again.”
“I have been busy with work. You know how it is.”
“I bet. I might have to come in there one day and get a tune up.” She winked and I knew she wasn’t talking about her car.
“I’ll fix you up anytime you want, Delilah.”
“Good to know. So who’s your sexy little friend?” She reached across the bar and held out a hand. Diego took it and kissed her knuckles. “Yum, what a gentleman!”
I laughed. “This is my buddy Diego. He does paintwork at the shop.”
“Nice to meet you, Caliente. What can I get you boys?”
“It’s an absolute pleasure, Delilah,” he replied.
“Two tequilas,” I suggested and Diego nodded.
“Sounds great.”
“Does your favorite bartender get one?” Delilah pouted and my dick stirred in my pants.
“Absolutely.” She poured three shots, then brought out a salt shaker and three lime wedges.
Diego took his tequila straight. “Ahhhh yeah!”
“What about you, Carter, do you like yours straight up or do you want a little salt and lime to spice it up?” She wet the web of flesh between her thumb and index finger with a lime and sprinkled salt there before holding her hand out for me to suck.
“I like salt and lime.” I caught her wrist and brought her hand to my mouth to lick the salt off her skin. Tossing back the tequila, I winced. She brought the lime wedge to my mouth and I sucked.
“Nice,” she grinned. “I only have time to do it quick.” She tossed it back and went back to work.
As she floated by again, I caught her. “Some beers?”
“You got it.” She put two bottles up on the counter with the lids removed. “I’m getting ready for a break, you want to join me?”
I looked over at Diego, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Sure. I’ll join you.”
“Good.”
She poked the other bartender. “Taking my fifteen. You. Come. Now.”
Diego catcalled as we left the bar. She drug me behind the bar to the alleyway and she kissed me hard as she pushed me up against the wall. She wasted no time in unbuttoning my pants and pulling my dick out.
“I’m so wet and I’m not wearing panties,” she hissed in my ear and I groaned.
“This seems fast,” I choked out and she kissed me again.
“Do you want me or not? I have…” she checked her watch in the dull glow of the streetlamp, “twelve minutes. Can you make me come or not?”
The offer was tempting, and I was hard. Something about it just felt wrong, especially since I was supposed to see Brielle tomorrow night. I knew it wasn’t technically cheating; it wasn’t like we were together, but it didn’t feel right.
I groaned loudly and pushed her back a little. “Delilah, I’
m sorry. I want to. I do. Things are complicated with the girl.”
Delilah grumbled, “So I’m wet and I have no one to get me off. Great.”
I had an idea. “Tell you what. What about my buddy Diego? I bet he’d be up for a good time and you two seemed to be into each other..”
She grinned and kissed my cheek as she tucked me back in my pants. “All right. He’ll do. Whoever this girl is…she’s lucky you are so good. And you’re lucky I think you’re a sweetheart. I don’t let many men rebuff me twice, Carter. Go get your friend and tell him I’m about to rock his world.”
“You got it.” I darted back inside the bar and found Diego nursing his beer at the bar. “Go outside and get fucked,” I told him and he choked on a mouthful of alcohol.
“Do what?” he spluttered.
“Delilah’s horny. I can’t have sex with her. I’m hung up on Brielle,” I explained.
“So…how does this get me laid?”
“She said to send you out and she’ll rock your world.”
Diego put the bottle on the bar. “Damn, she is hot. Sounds good. See you later. Your loss, man…”
I laughed as he ran for the back exit and settled back on my stool. I was doing the right thing. Delilah was sexy as sin, but she was no Brielle. I couldn’t be with anyone else until I knew what was between us.
Sometimes being a good guy sucked. That was one of those times.
About twenty minutes later, Diego walked back into the bar, followed by Delilah, who smoothed her hair and adjusted her top. He had a big, goofy grin on his face and as he slid onto the stool beside me he laughed weakly. “Tell Brielle when you see her I said thanks for getting us the Skid423 job. Because without that, I would be going home alone tonight…”
Delilah winked at me and slid another beer across the bar. “Here you go, sweetheart. A cold one on me to say thanks for Caliente over here.”
“To women,” I held up my beer and Diego followed suit. “They’ll love you, hurt you, and make you wish you’d never been born.”
“I can’t drink to that…” Diego frowned. “I can drink to women, though.”
“To women, then…” We clinked our beers and I took a long drink. I didn’t want to be at the bar anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I bitched for the fiftieth time while we drove to Kansas City.
“Come on, champ, you wanted to see her again. You were the one all curled up in her bed the other night. You got it bad.” Dad snickered and I grumbled.
“Look I told you, I was tired and I went to the wrong room. Sue me.”
“Riiiiight, and grasshopper assholes are blue.”
“They could be.”
“Pick one out and scope it for your old man, would you?”
I laughed. “No thanks.”
Following the directions of the GPS, we parked in the arena’s parking lot with half an hour to spare before the show. Brielle’s name flashed in big lights on a screen and then they showed a picture of her.
She looked like someone else. Not my Brielle. Whoa there, when did she become your Brielle? I gritted my teeth and sighed. She’d always been my Brielle. The sound of teenyboppers cheering grated on my nerves and we hadn’t even walked inside. I locked the doors of the car and glared at Dad.
“So are we doing this or what?”
“Well I didn’t drive four hours just to sit out in the parking lot with my thumb in my butt, Carter. We may as well go inside.”
I followed close behind him and we showed our tickets to a snotty girl in a uniform. “You’re gonna go to the left, first row on your left. Seats are marked.”
“Thanks!” Dad said cheerily. “Hey, why don’t you get us some snacks.”
“I don’t think this is quite like a movie.”
His face fell then brightened as he saw our seats. “First row! Thus are the perks of having a stepchild in the business.” His chest puffed out and he literally strutted to the seats. “That’s right, teenage girls, this old man has the best seats in the house.”
“Dad, cut it out,” I tried to reprimand him for acting like a dork, but I couldn’t. He was happy. I hadn’t seen him happy in a long, long time. I had to let him enjoy it. We settled in our seats and seconds later, strobe lights turned on and some of Brielle’s music played.
The girls in the audience seemed to shriek all at one time and I plugged my ears with my fingers. “I should’ve brought some pain meds. I’m gonna have a hell of a headache.”
“Aww loosen up, it’s fun,” Dad clapped along to the music.
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” a loud voice boomed over the speakers. “Bri Harper!”
I jumped up out of my seat along with everyone else and stared at the girl on the stage. She darted into the middle of the stage and moved into an intricate dance, all while singing. Her hips swayed in figure eights and she was singing something about rocking a bed.
I will admit, I was hard as a rock. The beat changed and she slid gracefully into a ballad. Everything seemed like it was going great. Dad sang along to her songs, slightly off-key, and I was impressed that he knew all the words. Suddenly, Brielle stopped singing and she whispered into the mic, “I can’t do it…”
I saw her falling and I ran for the blockades keeping everyone from the stage. “Brielle!” I screamed over the music. Her body crumpled slowly to the floor and her blonde hair spilled around her like a halo.
The crowd was in an uproar. Dad prodded me. “Go!”
I jumped the barrier and was halfway to the stage when out of nowhere a three hundred and fifty pound black man tackled me to the ground. “Freeze, motherfucker!” he yelled, pointing a taser at my chest.
“Jesus Christ, don’t taze me!” I may have peed my pants a little.
“Well don’t be thinkin’ you’re gonna be a hero or some shit. Or I will taze your nuts so hard you’ll never have babies.”
“Are you insane?” I yelled.
“Maybe. Get up slowly and let’s get you outside. No crossing the barrier, dirtbag.”
“I’m trying to get to Brielle. She’s my…” I didn’t know what to classify her as. Screaming out ‘she’s my sister,’ seemed totally wrong. Because she wasn’t. She never had been. I tried to find words but I couldn’t.
“She’s your what, dirtbag?” The beefy man asked again, this time menacingly.
“I’m her stepfather,” I heard Dad yell behind me and I breathed as the man withdrew the taser from my immediate dick and ball vicinity.
“Name?”
“Charlie Travis!”
“You can come over. But this asshole ain’t getting to her.” The taser moved back in again and I stayed completely still.
“I’m his son, Carter.” I cried as he moved in closer.
“Carter Travis ain’t on the list. And Carter Travis is gonna be singin’ soprano if he thinks he’s going on that stage. So let’s go.”
I eyed him and weighed my chances. Just as I was about to roll to standing and dodge to the left, Dad called my name.
“Carter! I’ll call you!” He followed another guard behind the stage.
My shoulders slumped and I watched as people swarmed her. She didn’t need me. My name wasn’t even on the list. “Let’s go,” I told the guard and he clapped me on the back with his beefy hand.
“My man, I knew you’d see reason.” He still kept the taser trained on me as we walked outside. “Head on home, the door’s locking and you won’t be let back in.” He wiggled his fingers at me as the door closed slowly.
“Shit.” Pacing back and forth, I ran for the car and pulled my phone from my pocket. Dialing Dad’s number, I waited for him to answer.
“Hey,” he said, like nothing was amiss.
“Hey your ass! Is she okay?”
“I don’t know yet. They’re taking her to St. Joseph’s, loading her into an ambulance now. I’m going to ride with. I’ll see if I can get you in later. Keep your phone on you.” He
hung up and I jammed my phone back into my pocket.
Unlocking the car doors, I slid behind the wheel and searched for the hospital’s address on my phone. Plugging it into my GPS, I started the car and drove. My hands trembled and I clenched the wheel firmly. I couldn’t understand why she was doing the heavy touring if she knew she was exhausted.
I parked at the hospital and jumped out of the car. Running through the lot, I found the emergency room doors and darted inside. Hurrying to the front desk, I pounded on the countertop with my palm. The woman turned to me with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you bleeding? Are you dying?”
“No, but-”
She held up a hand. “Do not beat on my table unless you’re dying. How about we start over?”
She turned away from me and I wanted to reach over the desk and strangle her, but instead I blew out a breath and smiled. “Excuse me,” I said through gritted teeth.
“How can I help you?” she swiveled back to me and had the same fake smile as I did.
“I’m here for Brielle Harper.”
Her smile disappeared instantly. “I cannot confirm or deny her presence at this hospital.”
“No problem, can I sit and wait for my father to call me?”
“By all means.” She pointed at the waiting room and I walked to a taupe chair and sat down to wait.
Picking up a magazine, I read while I waited. Brielle’s face was splashed across one cover and I read about her supposed rendezvous with a French sailor. The story was so full of holes even a child could see it wasn’t true. There was one grainy photo of the soldier with a girl who sort of looked like Brielle. It definitely wasn’t her. Her hair was a prettier blonde.
Tossing it down in disgust, I found a magazine on home design and read that instead. I definitely needed tips on decorating up my garage apartment. However I didn’t think the interior designers would love the eau de tire scent that always hung around. It would mess up their feng shui, for sure. My phone rang in my pocket and I fumbled around for it. Pulling it free I whispered, “Hello?”
Evil Stepsister Page 12
