by Sadie Grubor
I pick up my sticks, twirl them between my fingers, and freeze.
My heart swells and my chest warms.
I look over at my laughing daughters and then back to Sid.
It's the same feeling. Of course, there are other feelings regarding Sid, but…well, fuck, my little tiger's gone and made me fall for her.
"You look like you just lost something," Corbin states, modifying his guitar and strumming.
"I think I did," I snort.
Corbin adjusts the knobs on his main amp before responding.
"Need help finding it?"
Shaking my head, I twirl my sticks again.
"Nah," I respond, "I'm pretty sure she," I point one stick at Sid, "has it."
Corbin glances to Sid and back to me.
"Ah…" he nods, strumming again.
His eyes go very serious, almost angry, when he snaps, "Good fucking luck with that."
Furrowing my brow, I take a moment to really look at Corbin.
He's older, still in good shape, but thinner. For a moment, it was like having the old Corbin back, and the next, right now, I watch him curl back inside himself.
Goddamn, death doesn't just take the life of the person it claims
Randy starts to play an acoustic version of a song for the girls. They start singing into dead mics. The warm feeling returns to my chest.
"Damn it, woman," Red yells, arms thrown in the air.
Now, Bethany stands next to Sid, and she doesn't look happy.
"She's one person, Red," she shouts.
"But I trust her," he argues.
"You're impossible," Bethany growls, shoving his chest and turning to Sid. "I'll be helping her, which will probably exhaust me by this evening," she throws over her shoulder.
"Don't play the vagina hold-out card," Red warns.
Turning, she puts a hand to her chest and fakes insult.
"I would never," she exaggerates, spins, and sashays away.
"You're not getting any tonight," I shout, pointing at him.
He flips me off right as a beautiful voice fills the venue.
Everyone stills and turns to the twins.
Cass drops the mic and it squeals from feedback.
The sound booth shuts it down, but all eyes are on Cass.
"Holy shit, dude," Randy exclaims, twisting his neck to look at me.
I'm too shocked to say anything.
My girls could often be found singing around the house. They played that damn video game all the time, sang in their rooms, or just when they were doing homework, but I'd never heard that voice come out of my daughter—especially not quiet reserved Cass.
"Jesus," Red sighs, "can you sing like that, too?" he asks Lyra.
Shaking her head, she grins wildly.
"Nope, it's all Cass," Lyra boasts, clearly proud of her sister.
"Did you know about this?" Red turns his questions on me.
Still shocked silent, I slowly shake my head.
"She only sings for Mom," Lyra explains, wrapping a thin, tan arm over her sister's shoulders.
Cass looks like she might faint and leans into her sister for support.
"Lyra can sing," Cass says, her voice shaking with nerves.
"But not like that," Lyra clarifies.
Sidra
I have a ton of shit I should be doing, but instead, I'm standing, slack-jawed, watching the events unfold.
"They should sing with us tonight," Randy states, setting his guitar in the stand on stage.
"What?" Xavier asks in disbelief. "You want to put my thirteen-year-old daughters on a stage with the kind of crowd we draw?"
"They can both sing really well," Randy argues.
He's not lying. Playing that damn game back in the cabin, I heard both girls. They can carry a note. However, Cass had been holding back.
"That's a terrible idea," Xavier dismisses the suggestion.
"Why?" Red surprises me by jumping on Team Randy.
"Not you, too?"
"Come on, Dad." Lyra clasps her hands, begging.
"Your mother would kill me," he tells her.
"What if Mom says it's okay?" Lyra counters, pulling out her cell phone.
Gotta admit, I love this girl's spunk.
"Damn it, Lyra, don't call your mom." Xavier stands from his stool and slips the drumsticks in the back pocket of his jeans.
Too late. She puts the bright pink phone to her ear.
"Xave," Red starts, "we'll only bring them on for a song or two. They can be set up near you and sing background. I'll even make the announcement that they're on stage so everyone needs to behave."
Xavier rolls his eyes. "'Cause that will work."
"Mom wants to talk to you." Lyra bounces up and hold her phone out.
He levels a look of annoyance on his daughter and takes the phone.
"Yeah, babe?"
His greeting makes my chest ache and stomach churn.
Breathe. You aren't a couple. Stop being a twit about things.
I'm so lost in my own head, trying to calm the inner crazy girl, I miss the rest of the call.
"You okay?" Bethany's question brings me back to my surroundings.
I nod. "Yeah, just forgot to eat. Big girls don't miss meals often," I joke.
She shakes her head.
"I wish I could eat and get boobs like these." She motions to Thelma and Louise. "The things I could do in a corset with those bad boys."
"Cass," Xavier calls out.
Both Bethany and I look back to the stage.
"Come here, baby," he says softly, squatting down and putting his arms out.
Without hesitation, she enters his embrace and lays her head on his shoulder. She pulls back and his hands cup her face. "I'm so proud of you."
My heart thuds.
"You sound beautiful. It matches exactly what you have in here," he says, tapping her chest. "Do you want to do this? Your mom and I are going to leave the decision up to you."
Cass bites her lip and fidgets.
"I'll be right there with you," Lyra says, holding out a hand.
Cass takes it and gives her dad a nod.
Fuck, dads are hot.
"Right?" Bethany says.
Blinking, I look at her.
"Did I say that out loud?"
"Sure did," she smiles, "but it doesn't make it any less true."
"Don't I know it," I sigh, looking back at Xavier and his daughters.
"So," she drawls, bumping her shoulder with mine, "is he your daddy now? 'Cause I've been hearing—"
"First, don't ever refer to a guy as my daddy. That's creepy and enough to turn my vagina into the Mojave Desert."
She laughs.
"Second, you're a pervert."
"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," she retorts.
"Sid?"
Looking over my shoulder, I find Jimmy.
"Yeah?" I raise my brows.
"Can we talk for a minute?" He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
It's a nervous gesture.
"Sure." I shrug, but don't move.
"Alone?" He raises his brow.
"Uh…okay," I drawl.
"I'll go talk with Chantel," Bethany says, patting my arm.
Nodding, I walk away with Jimmy.
He leads us back toward the dressing rooms and into an empty one.
Closing the door behind us, my skin prickles with awareness. We're alone and I'm not exactly tight enough with Jimmy to call him a friend. My curiosity reaches epic proportions.
"What's this about?" I cross my arms over my chest.
"I need a favor," he rushes out. "Can you research a person for me?"
"What person?" I press.
"Frances Dean Mogush," he sneers.
"So, it's not someone you like?" I drop my arms.
"You could say that," he clips.
"Anything, in particular, you want me to look for?"
"Yeah," he pauses, "I already had a private
detective look him up."
"And you need me why?"
"Because there are certain records and information that are sealed or not public knowledge."
"Ah, I see."
"I'll pay you. That's not an issue, but I do need you to keep this between us."
"You're going to have to tell me why before I agree to any of this." I take a seat in a chair and motion for him to take one too.
He sits on the very edge, elbows resting on his knees, and stares at the tile floor.
"I believe he's my biological father," he starts.
"And?"
His head comes up.
"He's also the prick who raped my mother," he growls.
Air rushes out of my lungs on a gasp.
"I—"
"Don't say anything," he interrupts. "He reached out a few months ago making the claim. From the start, I was suspicious about his intentions, and it turns out I was right." Throwing himself back in the chair, he snorts. "Frank wasted no time at all hinting at money. That's when I got the private detective involved. He confirmed the paternity and found his police records, previous places he lived…" letting the words die, he rubs the back of his neck.
"If you already know that, then why do you need to know anything else?" I ask, scooting to the edge of my seat. My heart, as black as it may be, breaks for him.
"Jimmy?" His eyes come up to meet mine. "Cut this guy out of your life."
Shaking his head, he says, "I'm not inviting him in. He's forcing the issue."
"Forcing it how?" I ask.
Jimmy sighs, heavily.
"He's claiming to have information about my mother that will prove she's a liar. That he didn't attack her. If I don't work out an arrangement with him, he'll push the issue with her."
"I'm so sorry," I whisper.
"So, you'll also need to look into Stella Ann Thompson as well."
There's no missing the emotion choking his words or the tears pooling in his eyes.
"Okay," I whisper. "And you aren't going to pay me."
Standing from the chair, I pat his shoulder.
He pushes up from his seat and follows me to the door.
I open it and step out as he asks, "And you won't say anything?"
"Of course not," I respond, putting my hand out between us.
He takes my hand and jerks me forward. Giving me a one-arm hug, he whispers, "Thank you."
Stepping back, I smile.
"Jimmy," Red calls from down the hallway.
He's pretty far, but I can still see the scowl on his face.
"Yeah?" He turns away from me.
"Everyone's waiting on you," he barks.
"Alright, I'm coming," Jimmy snaps back, then turns toward me. "Thanks again."
"Sure, but text me those names. I'll forget."
He hands me his phone, letting me put my number in before taking it and walking away.
Poor guy. I couldn't even imagine. Thank God for my parents.
Two hours later, and one text message from Jimmy, I step into the Corrosive Velocity dressing room and grin.
Every person is wearing a cause shirt tonight, each one representing one of the three charities this short tour is raising money for. Tonight, some of the charity representatives will not only be in the crowd, but also meeting with the bands.
The twins wear red t-shirts that read: I Wear RED because My Mom's Heart Matters.
Xavier's shirt is black with a large red heart and white print saying, The Beat Goes On, but wears a green NF Ribbon pinned to his chest.
Corbin, Red, and Randy all wear NF shirts. Corbin's stands out among the group with, I'm Wearing this Ribbon for My Hero, and Ethan's name printed underneath.
Hush and The Forgotten all wear breast cancer awareness shirts. They range from Don't Let Cancer Steal Second Base to Big or Small, Let's Save Them All. But Chris and Jackson, like Corbin, wear shirts that make my chest pang. The pink letters outlined in black stand out against the white cotton, reading, I Wear Pink for My Mom.
"Here," Laney says, tossing me a white t-shirt.
I catch it and hold it up by the short sleeves, reading, I Touch Myself with a big pink cancer ribbon.
"It seemed appropriate," she teases.
"Thanks." I smile.
The weight of his eyes pulls me like some phantom force. When our eyes meet, a chill runs down my spine.
He looks pissed. Arms over his broad chest, nostrils flaring, and hard-set lines around his eyes, he's more than just angry, he looks furious.
I furrow my brow in silent question and he responds with a silent snort and jerk of his head.
Pushing out of his chair, he walks in a wide arc around me and out the door.
My eyes find Liza, who quirks her perfect eyebrow at me.
Shrugging, I give a small shake of my head. Picking up my bag from where I'd left it earlier in the day, I exit the dressing room in search of a bathroom away from everyone.
It doesn't take me more than twenty minutes to change into the black and white, wide stripe twirl skirt. The waist is high and the hem stops just above my knee. With the t-shirt tucked in, it doesn't look horrible.
Still, I'm not ready to leave the bathroom. I've already ignored one call from Red and three texts, two from Red and one from Liza.
What happened? Why is he so angry? I didn't do anything.
My mental battle has waged since I bolted from the dressing room.
Pacing in black leather ballet flats, I bite my lip and try to think about what I could've possibly said or done. Then, like a jolt of electricity, anger zaps through my veins. I stop pacing and look in the mirror.
"Why does it have to be something you did?" I ask myself.
I haven't seen or talked to him all freaking afternoon.
"And if that's what he's pissed about…well, he can take a flying fucking leap off a bridge," I growl to the empty room, collecting my stuff. "I let him turn me into one of those goddamn bathroom girls," I grumble, tossing the items roughly into my bag.
Bag strap over my shoulder and phone in hand, I make calls to Chantel and then to Kel, just to check on things while I had my ridiculous bathroom girl moment.
I round the corner to the hallway of dressing room doors and freeze.
Xavier stands just outside of a doorway, a tall, lithe brunette in his arms. The embrace is tight and long. Pulling back, he kisses her forehead.
Nausea climbs up my throat. My heart deflates, and it becomes harder to breathe.
"It's not what you think." I jump at the sound of Jimmy's voice.
"What?" I choke out, unsuccessfully being nonchalant.
"I can guarantee you he's not fucking that woman," he says.
Taking a deep breath, I push down all emotion and shrug.
"We aren't together." I begin walking again.
Jimmy stays in step with me.
"He can fuck who he wants." The words feel wrong, sour, making my face scrunch up.
"That's his sister, Kami," Jimmy informs.
My stomach instantly settles all the knots and the tightness in my chest is gone with just two words: his sister. I glance back to where Xavier stood with his sister, but they've gone into the room.
I'm fucking pathetic.
Restraining any reaction, I lift one shoulder. "Not my problem."
"Sure it's not," Jimmy drawls, disappearing into the dressing room.
Outside the dressing room, I can hear so many voices, I'm tempted to turn around and head off to the sound booth or the social media room—anywhere but here.
The door opens and I jump back.
"There you are," Red greets, grabbing my shoulder and dragging me into the room.
A bunch of manhandling cavemen.
Inside, the room is packed full of people. Chris and Jack's parents sit on a loveseat at the side of the room.
"Really, Mom?" Jack asks, pointing at Gwen's shirt.
It reads, Yes, They're Fake. My Real Ones Tried to Kill Me.
"What?
" she asks, looking down. "Mia loved it."
Nicholas Shaw, Jack's stepfather, matches his wife in pink, but his says, Her Fight IS My Fight.
It's so damn sweet.
"This is Sid." Ember's voice pulls my attention away from Gwen and Nic.
Xavier's oldest sister stands before me, a very forced smile on her face. Her eyes are appraising, critical.
"Nice to meet you," she says, her voice cool.
"Yeah, you too," I blurt, just as insincere.
Her eyes widen before she scowls.
I don't even care right now. I'm so mad at the ginger beast for turning me inside out.
Sidestepping Kami, I find Liza and stick to her like glue.
The weight of his stare is like someone tapping at your back, nonstop, for an hour. It makes me fidgety and anxious. The amount of energy it's taking to ignore him is exhausting the shit out of me.
"I'm gonna go check in with Kel," I tell Liza.
Taking my hand, she squeezes.
"You okay?" she asks, her voice full of concern.
"Just tired," I lie.
She doesn't buy it, but she lets me go with a look telling me we're talking later.
"Sid," Lyra shouts, stopping me.
Damn it. So close to escaping.
Putting on a smile, I turn to her.
"Hey," I greet.
"Cass and I are going on stage tonight with Dad." She bounces on the balls of her feet, Cass quietly moving in next to her sister.
"I heard!" I exclaim. It's hard not to be excited when she's so pumped.
Moving my eyes to Cass, I ask, "You excited?"
She bites her lip, but nods.
"It's okay to be nervous," I say, squatting down. "Everyone gets nervous." Leaning in closer to them, I whisper, "See Liza over there?"
Their eyes shift to where my cousin sits on Jackson's lap. When they look back at me, they nod.
"Even she still gets nervous. In fact, I had to calm her down at the last concert, she was so nervous."
"Is she your friend?" Lyra asks.
"More like a sister," I answer, smiling, my eyes flitting to Liza and then back to the girls, "but we're cousins."
"Oh," Lyra looks between us, "you don't look like you're related."
"Don't I know it," I laugh out, standing again. "Not all of us can look like her."
"No, we can't," Lyra agrees, but then says, "You have prettier hair."
"Lyra," Cass gives her sister a warning hush.
"What?" She shrugs. "I think you have prettier eyes, too."
