One More Minute With You

by Sierra Hill

  He roared his disapproval.

  “What the fuck is going on here?”

  ****

  Kenzie dropped the picture that she’d been holding in her palm when she heard Remy’s very loud and angry exclamation.

  She had been trying subtly, but unsuccessfully, to fight off Brian’s eager advances and grabby hands for the last ten minutes, ever since Luc left the room to answer the phone call he’d received from his wife.

  Based on the story Remy had shared about Brian and his ex that had led to their break-up, Kenzie was all too aware of his proclivity to use his celebrity to get young women in bed. And he proved that within seconds of Luc’s departure.

  The guy was in his fifties and old enough to be her father. It was gross and disgusting. He’d been giving her lascivious looks from the moment he walked into their apartment and hadn’t even tried to hide his lewdness. For once, Kenzie was glad she hadn’t been wearing her usual mini-skirt outfit, instead a simple T-shirt and cropped yoga pants.

  The moment Luc took the call and moved into the kitchen, Brian slid next to her, so that his skinny-jean clad leg pressed up against hers. He leaned into her, casually looking over her shoulder at the childhood pictures of Remy that Luc had brought with him. He was obviously using the photos as an excuse to close the deal he thought was in the bag.

  Yeah, not going to happen, Slick.

  She’d been looking at a picture, circa late-nineties, where a seven-year-old Remy had a guitar on his lap, a cat wrapped around his head sitting on his shoulders, paw on his nose, and the goofiest looking grin on Remy’s face. A laugh had barreled out of her chest looking at the angelic features of her man as a child, so happy and full of life. He was adorable.

  Brian was telling her the story of that picture. It was at Christmas and Santa had brought both the cat and the guitar to a very excited little boy. He told her that the cat would purr and meow every time Remy played the Ted Nugent song, Cat Scratch Fever. They had all died from laughter when the cat jumped up on Remy’s shoulders during the chorus. Brian was there at the time with his wife, and Luc and Renada were in the background, all smiling and happy.

  Kenzie had burst into laughter when Brian said that was the moment Remy learned the meaning behind ‘pussy-whipped’, the same moment the man-of-the-hour came through their front door, a displaced look of horror etched across his handsome features.

  And then all hell seemed to break loose, like a dam bursting at the seams as Remy stepped into the living room, looking at the compromising position she’d seemed to have gotten herself in.

  She jumped to her feet, stepping back from the couch and nearly tripping over the coffee table. Remy stalked toward them, his eyes laser-pointed at Brian, who sat there in smug indifference.

  Remy had always been the epitome of equanimity, and she’d never seen him lose his temper. But his words came sailing out, full of venom and asperity.

  “Get the fuck out of my apartment. Now.” The finger he had pointed at Brian trembled with restrained anger. “And don’t you ever touch her again.”

  Brian stood, flipping his thinning, greasy strands of hair out of his eyes, his shirt rising slightly to display a ponched pot-belly forming. Remy was practically in his face, toe-to-toe with his once favorite uncle.

  “Ah, come on, man. You gotta know she’s just using you to get what she wants, just like your last chick. They all set their sights on fame and will sleep with whomever they need to in order to get it. I was just trying to save you some heartache.”

  Kenzie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This man - this warped excuse for a human being – was trying to pin this on her, as if she was some slutting whore, looking for her big break through a quick fuck. The gall of this washed-up, aging, sack-of-shit rock star!

  Before she had even taken a step forward and pulled back her fist, ready to jam it into his face, followed by her knee to his balls, Remy swung his own punch, connecting directly to Brian’s nose with a loud thwack.

  Everything seemed to be in slow motion at that moment. Brian lost his balance from the force of Remy’s fist and fell back onto the couch, blood spurting over his T-shirt. At the sound of the scuffle, Luc came flying into the room, dropping his phone on the floor when he saw the evidence of the altercation between the two men. Kenzie looked down at the abandoned phone, wondering if it had broken, before turning her attention back to the others.

  Luc gently pulled Kenzie back from the circle of testosterone, imploring with his sapphire blue eyes for her to step away and allow him to handle things. What could she do other than comply with his demands? It was Luc Martins, for God’s sake. She would’ve likely jumped out the window naked if he’d asked her to.

  She watched the scene unfold in front of her. Remy was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring and jaw ticking. Otherwise, he seemed no worse for wear. Luc handed a tissue to Brian, whose bloody nose had stopped bleeding, but the T-shirt was ruined. The entire situation was surreal, and she suddenly had a flashback to how Seth had looked, his own head gushing blood from the blow she’d given him.

  Swallowing down the memory, she refocused on what Luc was saying to Brian.

  “Please tell me you didn’t pull any of your Rico Suave bullshit on Remy’s girl. Jesus Christ, Brian. I left you alone for ten minutes and you just had to go after the one girl you can’t have. You’re a fucking debauched asshole. Put your perverted dick back in your pants and get the hell out of Remy’s house.”

  Her jaw dropped at what she heard. Not only had Luc stuck up for her, but balled-out his long-time partner and bandmate on behalf of his son and girlfriend. Kenzie felt a burst of pride and a certain justice for Remy, who’d suffered enough in the past from Brian’s playboy antics.

  Still undaunted by the whole confrontation and seemingly unfazed by being called out for his behavior, Brian got to his feet and pushed past Luc, moving to the door.

  Stopping short of the entrance, he turned back to Remy.

  “I may not be altruistic in my actions, and I’m sorry I hurt you in the past. But I was just trying to save you from heartache in the long run. She’s going to screw you over, Rem. Mark my words. It will happen.”

  Brian closed the door behind him just as a glass hit and shattered against it. Her head spun around, looking at the broken chards of beer glass that Remy had thrown on the floor.

  Luc heaved a sigh and placed his hand on Remy’s shoulder, squeezing and releasing before turning his gaze to Kenzie.

  “Pardon mon ami, Chèrie. A zebra can never change his stripes, oui? And Brian will never understand boundaries,” he offered, moving toward the kitchen. “Where is your broom? I’ll help clean up the mess.”

  Kenzie pushed past Remy, who still stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking shell shocked and lost in his own memories.

  “No, Luc. I’ll take care of it. It’s fine.” She cut him off at the corner, her hand gesturing for him to back off, grabbing the broom and dust pan that was hanging on the kitchen wall. She’d just rounded the hallway corner when she barreled into Remy’s chest.

  His voice was acrimonious. A sound she’d never heard from him.

  “Leave it,” he hissed, swatting the broom from her hands. “Just leave it.”

  He swung back to his dad, eying him distastefully. “And I need you to leave now, too. Get out. I’m done with the shit you always seem to bring on.”

  “Rem, it wasn’t his -”

  Remy cocked his head, smiling sardonically at Kenzie. “What? It wasn’t my dad’s fault that his bastard of a bandmate was here in my home? Are you saying you’re to blame for his behavior?” His eyes blazoned and raked over her body. “Why wouldn’t he try to hit on you when you’re wearing that outfit? Maybe Brian was right about one thing. Once you found out who I was, who I was related to, you used me to get what you wanted. An overly ambitious wannabe musician who’ll do anything – or anyone – to get a break.”

  Kenzie sucked in a gasp of air. The pain of his cru
el words stung like a thousand wasp stings. Tears sprang from her eyes and she blinked them back, trying to keep her dignity intact.

  She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, feeling the tension vibrating through the leather of his jacket. She was desperate to make him understand, for him to see the truth.

  “Remy,” she whispered, the tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t punish me for something I didn’t do. I’m not like her. Brian made the move on me. I didn’t do anything. I swear. Please believe me.”

  Remy scoffed, kicking at the glass near the door as he opened it preparing to walk out. He looked back at her one last time, his face blank with misery.

  “I can’t talk to you right now. Just leave me alone. I want you both gone when I return.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It had been two days since the fight with Remy - since he told her to leave and in no uncertain terms to never come back.

  Luc had apologized profusely on his son’s behalf and even offered to put her up in a ritzy hotel while Remy came to his senses. Kenzie refused, of course, and had called upon Donita to put her up in her extra bedroom until she could find a new place to live.

  She’d cried herself to sleep both nights, the hurt and pain of his rejection riddling her thoughts, her dreams fueled by her longing. Just one look at her puffy, red eyes was a dead give-away that she was hopelessly heartbroken. And tired, to boot.

  “You look like shit warmed over, darlin’,” Donita announced, tossing some cash from her previous customer in the tip jar. Pulling her in a warm embrace, she kissed the top of Kenzie’s head in a motherly gesture. “But you still look beautiful, as always.”

  “Ha. I know damn well that I look like shit. And I feel like it, too.” Kenzie leaned against the front counter of the diner, sipping on what was now a lukewarm cup of coffee. “Ugh. And this coffee tastes like shit. Can’t anything be good for me today?”

  Donita gave her a hip bump, nodding her head over to the booths next to the window.

  “Well, it just might be looking up for ya, honey.Cause some hot looking stud over there just asked for you. So you best powder that cute little red nose of yours and go see what you can help him with. And I’d bet my grandmother’s ass that he wants more from you than the hotcakes we sling.”

  Kenzie looked over her shoulder at the spot where Donita had gestured. Her heart hammered in her chest in the hope that she’d turn around and find Remy sitting in the same spot he did when they first met.

  Disappointment took hold when she saw it wasn’t him; instead she saw only the back of a sandy-blond head. Not dark and messy like Remy’s, but neat and trim, finessed and gelled to metrosexual perfection. The man sat straight as an arrow, his face turned away toward the window, his features hidden from her examination.

  Kenzie picked up the half-full coffee pot and moved with a lightness of foot that she wasn’t really feeling toward his table. All thoughts ceased in that moment, save one, when his face came into view. A sudden zing of fear tore through her body, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

  It couldn’t be.

  Oh. My. God.

  Seth.

  “Hello, Kenzie.” His voice was as smooth as a cultured pearl. And it made her want to vomit.

  “H–How the hell did you find me?”

  His insidious chuckle filled the space between them. Seth pushed his empty cup to the edge of the table, a silent request for her to fill it. Her brain was sending her hand mixed signals. She was conflicted as to whether she was going to dump the coffee on his lap and make a run for it, or crack the glass pot over his head and then run screaming from the diner.

  Instead, her hand trembled, the coffee sloshing around in a whirlpool of nerves.

  “It wasn’t too hard to locate you, Kenz. I’m a pretty smart guy and logic dictated that you’d move to a smaller city. You’re just not tough enough to be a New York or LA girl. So it had to be Nashville.” He looked around the diner, his eyes narrowing in thought. “But really, sweetheart. A waitress? How very cliché of you.”

  His clear disdain for her chosen employment was evident in the enmity in his voice. The icy smirk was also a dead give-away.

  “Seth, I don’t know what you’re doing here or why you came. For being such a smart guy, you’re obviously stupid to believe that I’d ever want to see you again. So why don’t you just get the hell out of here and leave me alone before I call the cops, like I should have done the last time.”

  Spinning on her heels, she nearly sprinted back behind the counter, catching Donita’s wrist and dragging her back into the kitchen prep area. Donita’s eyes were wild with question.

  “What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing?” she huffed, but then stopped when she saw Kenzie’s pale face. “Oh my. What’s the matter, sweetie? Are you okay? Are you going to faint?”

  Her breaths came fast and machine-gun staccato. She was hyper-ventilating. She couldn’t calm down. She couldn’t breathe.

  Donita pulled out the step stool and gently pushed Kenzie down so her butt hit the seat with a plop. She then gently coaxed her body forward so that Kenzie’s head was between her knees, as she frantically searched the kitchen, returning with a damp towel to place on Kenzie’s forehead.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Talk to me. What’s the matter?”

  Kenzie kept her head down but lifted her arm and pointed to the booth out front.

  “H–he’s out there,” she stammered, her body shaking in shock. “Oh my God, he’s out there.”

  The fear, the desperation, the anxiety of seeing Seth materialize in front of her like that had Kenzie in a full blown panic. Her body trembled, cold sweat gathering across her clammy skin.

  Donita’s reassuring hands cradled her shoulders, her fingers soothing her with the light patterns she traced along her arms.

  “Kenzie, who’s out there? What are you talking about?”

  At this point, Kenzie was a sniffling mess, her words extracted through hiccupping sobs. After several minutes, she regained some of her composure to tell Donita the truth about why she’d come to Nashville and why she’d run away from her home in Seattle. She’d never told Donita anything about her past, of her father’s abandonment when she needed him most or anything about Seth and his verbal and physical abuse.

  The guilt weighed on her, the shame and remorse for never confiding in Donita before now pouring over her like hot coals. She saw it in Donita’s face. The hurt that Kenzie hadn’t trusted her enough to share these secrets. To hide the truth from her, even when Donita was the kindest person she’d ever met, besides her own grandmother.

  She let it all come spewing out, a bucket of refuse being dumped on her closest friend and confidant. And the first words uttered out of Donita’s syrupy sweet, yet vulgar southern mouth after learning the truth?

  “I’m going to kill that cocksucker!”

  Kenzie’s hysterical laughter had Carlos and the cooks looking up from their duties, likely questioning her sanity. And why wouldn’t they? She was feeling pretty frickin’ insane at the moment after realizing her ex-boyfriend had tracked her down.

  Wait, what?

  That thought had her jumping to her feet with sudden realization. If he knew where she worked, then he had to know other things about her. Was he the one sending her all those nasty text messages? How long had he known she was here? Was he the one who ransacked her old apartment and stolen her guitar?

  And oh shit. Did he know where she lived now? And about Remy?

  Donita’s look of horror made Kenzie realize that she’d been asking those questions out loud. Pulling out her phone, Donita tapped the keypad and brought it to her ear.

  “Darryl, hey baby. Oh, yeah? Mmm, that sounds promising,” she murmured, a husky undertone of sex in her tone. A grin the size of Texas stretched across her face and she licked her lips.

  “Thanks, sugar pie, I will definitely take you up on that later. I promise. But right now I’m calling about that stalke
r situation my friend Kenzie has been dealing with. We think we know who he is and he was just in our diner.”

  She fell silent for a moment, adding a few “uh-huhs” and “yes’s” into the conversation before she ended the call. The look of confidence Donita gave her bolstered Kenzie’s frayed nerves and she drew in a breath, resolved to handle whatever news her friend was going to share.

  She’d been ready to jump out of her skin when she saw Seth sitting in her booth earlier. The flash of memory from the last time she saw him, bloodied on her apartment floor, yelling obscenities at her as she ran out the door, sent her blood boiling. If she’d known any martial arts, she would have given him a roundhouse kick in the teeth, knocking that slimy, twisted smile off his face.

  Regret washed over her for being such a coward and not doing something about it back then. Listening to her father and not going to the cops to file assault charges was the worst decision of her life. But she couldn’t go back in time and change the decision she’d made in the past.

  Instead, she could make the right choice this time around. Fate and Seth’s stupid arrogance brought him back to her, and she wasn’t about to let this chance pass her by without proving she had moxie. This time, she’d have a friend by her side and she’d follow through using the protection of law enforcement to do the right thing.

  But first, she had to make sure that Remy was not going to be caught up in any of her past turmoil. She would never forgive herself if he got hurt because of her fucked up, crazy-ass stalker of an ex-boyfriend.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Remy blinked and scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to ease the frustration balling in his gut and get his head back into the game.

  He’d been working on the lyrics and music for a song he’d written for the last three hours, and he couldn’t quite get it right. The bridge was weak, and he was going in circles trying to extract the right words to express what he was feeling. And what he was feeling was loss.