Claiming Atlas (Completely Rocked Book 1)

by Jessalyn Jameson

  I raise my hands and step toward her. “Kayla, seriously, I didn’t say any of that stuff.”

  “But it’s true, right? I mean, of course it is. You’re Atlas Reynolds, aren’t you? The biggest manwhore of them all. You go through women like you go through towns, and who the hell am I to think I’m any different from the last?” She steps backward, bumping into the table, then looks behind her. She doesn’t seem to notice that her Dear John goodbye letter isn’t sitting there with the remnants of her lace thong. “And, you know what; this is so stupid because I knew I’d regret you. I knew you were a mistake—” She pauses again, looking back at the table. “Where’s my note?”

  I don’t answer her because the breath has left my lungs.

  She looks at me again, then swivels her head slowly to look back at the table, and I watch her head move like everything has slowed down to a standstill, and when her eyes land on the trashcan, on the crumpled piece of paper that is the only thing in there, I don’t have to see her reaction. Because I feel it. I feel it in every ounce of my being.

  She has no idea I read that note so many times I had to throw it away because it hurt too damn much to keep.

  I open my mouth to explain, but no words come out, because as she realizes I threw out her note, jumping to whatever conclusion she likes best, I realize what she just said.

  She knew this was a mistake.

  She knew I was a mistake.

  Nothing matters after that.

  “You threw my note away.” She spins around and strides past me.

  She threw me away. Nothing I can say makes a difference now. I’m just a Las Vegas mistake. One final fuck up before she goes back to wherever she’s from.

  Stopping halfway out the door, she turns around and drops the magazine on the floor, then pins me with a stare that could melt Antarctica. “Just another banger, Atlas?”

  I swallow the pain that seeps out of my heart and up my throat, trying to strangle me where I stand, because I don’t do pain. “Aren’t you?” I ask her. ‘I mean, you’re a fan of the band, and you just fucked a member.” I shrug when I should be throwing myself at her feet and taking the words back but damn her for making me feel only to make me feel like shit.

  She closes her eyes, releasing a single tear, then looks at me with so much anger I take a step back. “You’re right. I just wanted to fuck a member of the band, and you were in the right place at the right time.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Kayla

  “That goes in the box over there.” I point to the box labeled Goodwill, but Scar doesn’t move. I look up at her. “Hello?”

  She holds the Banging Cade album up. “Seriously? Come on, Kay, you love these guys.”

  I shake my head. “Past tense, Scarlet.”

  Past tense.

  She frowns. “The whole band didn’t break your heart, babe.”

  I raise my eyebrows and pin her with what I hope is a stare that says drop it or die.

  She shakes her head, then puts the album in the Goodwill box. “You ready to tell me what happened between you two last weekend?”

  I snort. “Well, he didn’t break my heart, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I open my mouth to argue but there’s a knock on the door.

  Scarlet raises her eyebrows in question, and I shrug. I’m certainly not expecting anyone.

  She jumps over a box and opens the door. “Des! Are you here to help pack, because I’m beat.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’ve literally packed, like, two things, Scar.”

  She gives me a shocked expression. “They were two very heavy things, Kayla.”

  Des laughs and comes in, patting Scar on the head as she passes her, then sitting cross legged beside me on the floor.

  When she doesn’t say anything, I look up. “So?”

  “So, there was a visitor at the club last night.”

  I grab another glass and wrap it in packing paper. “Cool.”

  “Yeah, he was tall, and had red hair, and... weighed about three hundred pounds?”

  I pause and look up at her. “And?”

  “He brought this.” Des hands me a thick manila envelope.

  I flip it over in my hands and Kincaid Summers is scribbled on the front in silver marker. “What is it?”

  She looks at me pointedly. “Open it.”

  “I’m good.” I try to hand it back to her.

  “Nope.” She pushes it back toward me.

  Pulling in a deep breath through my nose, I set the envelope on the table. “It’s probably a non-disclosure agreement. Doesn’t want me to tell anyone about the real Atlas and how much of an asshole he is.”

  “Oh my god, Kayla.” Scarlet sighs loudly then grabs the envelope up off the table. “Could you be more stubborn?”

  Probably. I shrug.

  Scarlet gasps. “Holy shit. Someone’s in love.”

  If she ever says love around me again, she’s dead to me.

  I look up as she pulls a bunch of lanyards out of the envelope. I don’t have to see them to know what they are, but I look anyway. The Cade logo is right there, staring back at me.

  Shaking my head, I wrap another glass, busying my hands so they don’t reach for my only connection to Atlas.

  “They’re front row, Kay, and backstage, and oh wow, there’s a note.” She pulls it out and I look up at her raising my hand.

  “Please don’t read that out loud.”

  “Fine.” She smiles, then reads the letter quietly to herself. “Aw.” She puts her hand over her heart. “He says you’re not just another banger.”

  I snort. “That’s it?”

  That’s his big gesture? Concert tickets he’d give out for free as promo to whomever? Way to make a girl feel even less special, Atlas. How many other girls will be sitting in that front row with me, knowing all too well what it feels like to make love—

  I almost laugh out loud. Make love. Ha.

  “No, babe, but you told me not to read it out loud.” She grins sweetly.

  I sigh, then look at Des. “Thanks, but... why don’t you and some of the girls from work go?”

  Des shakes her head, eyes narrowed. “Uh-uh, girl. We all go, or none of us go.”

  My brows furrow. “Wasn’t their last show last week? I thought the tour was over?”

  Des shrugs. “Looks like they extended it.”

  “Oh my gosh, Kayla, do you think he did this for you?” Scarlet’s face is lit up like she just found out she could have every puppy in the world.

  “Yeah, Scar, I’m sure the entire band stuck around in Vegas so I could see a freaking Cade show.”

  She scoffs, but doesn’t say anything.

  “Well, let me know if I need to get ready tonight,” Des says as she gets up to leave. “He obviously wants to see you again.”

  I shake my head. “Not going to happen.” My heart flutters, but I push it back down into the black hole it’s called home for the past week. Curiosity can’t overpower the way he destroyed me in just a few short sentences, and Atlas Reynolds doesn’t deserve my time. He owns a few wild nights in my past, but he doesn’t get any of my future.

  “Thanks for bringing those by, Des. Guess I’ll just see you at work tonight.” Scarlet closes the door. “Because my best friend is mean and doesn’t let me have any fun.” She sits down on the table, so close to me that I can do nothing but look up at her. I raise my eyebrows, but she raises hers higher. “Don’t act like you’re not going to that concert tonight, Kayla Jane.”

  I shrug. “Who’s acting?”

  “Oh, you’re going. Those are front row VIP backstage passes to see your favorite band, and the boy you obviously love—”

  I raise my finger at her. “You can stop right there.”

  “Well? Tell me you don’t.”

  “I don’t even know him, Scarlet. I spent two whole nights with him and all we did was fuck.” I shake my head. “Contrary to what you might believe, that d
oesn’t constitute love.”

  She flinches.

  God, I’m horrible. I shake my head and run my hands over my face. “I’m sorry. That was...”

  “Mean?”

  “Yeah.” I look back up at her.

  “I forgive you because you’re obviously heartbroken.”

  “I’m not going to the concert, so please drop it.” I reach past her. “Hand me that other glass.”

  “What happened between you two, really?”

  I clench my jaw and look up at her. “You saw the magazine.”

  “And? So some tabloid creep lied about you. What’s the big deal?”

  I take a deep breath through my nose, then stand. “Fine. You want to know what happened.” She moves to the couch as I walk past her to the little breakfast bar attached to our tiny kitchen. The letter arrived yesterday, just four days after the magazine published that bullshit piece about Atlas and me.

  I’ve almost finished crying. Almost.

  I pull the letter from the envelope and unfold it gently, careful not to tear it. It’s so worn out from how many times I’ve read it, and it’s stained with my tears. I turn around and join Scarlet on the couch. I hand it to her, then stare at the wall as she reads the worst letter I’ve ever received.

  After a few long minutes, she sighs. “How long have you had this?”

  “It got here yesterday.”

  She gasps softly. “How’d they send it so fast?”

  I shrug. “Magic?”

  Scarlet’s brow furrows. “How many times have you read it?”

  I shake my head. “Too many.”

  “Did you call them? Did you try to explain?”

  “Of course I called them.”

  “And? Did they listen to you?”

  I shake my head as tears well in my eyes. “No. They said that they understood my circumstances, and they sympathized, but they couldn’t have their name tarnished by being linked to a possible call girl.”

  “Oh my God.”

  I swallow hard as emotion closes my throat.

  “Can you sue the magazine?”

  I meet her gaze. “For what? Lying? Isn’t that just, like, what the tabloids do?”

  “Yeah, but, this is... this affected your life, Kay, they published your real name... something should be done. I mean, there’s got to be some kind of recourse—”

  “There’s not. There’s nothing I can do.”

  She sets the letter down on the coffee table, then turns toward me and tucks her legs up beneath her. “This is slander. And these people”—she waves toward the letter—“to take away your funding like that.”

  “I guess they don’t think anyone is going to want to enroll their kids in a school owned by a whore.”

  “Kayla,” she says on a gasp.

  “Whatever. Just throw it away.” I grab the letter and toss it into the trash bag with all the junk I’ve discarded while packing. I’ve memorized each painful word anyway, and keeping it changes nothing. My dream of opening a school that teaches kids more than just testing skills—in a world where compassion and consciousness will soon be a thing of the past—will never come to fruition.

  End of story.

  “How much of the startup did you lose?”

  Does it even matter? “Their investment was half.”

  She chews on her thumb nail. “So your own money is half, then, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you just need half.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, Scarlet, we’ve established that I lost half of the fucking amount I need to open my school.”

  She begins to mutilate her pointer fingernail now, her eyes narrowed. “And you’re still going back to SoCal?”

  I nod. There’s nothing left for me in Vegas. I may not have the money to start my school, but I can at least move back and start over.

  Somehow.

  “What if you just stay in Vegas for a while longer and work—?”

  I groan and throw my head back. “Scar, aside from the fact that escrow closes on my new place next week, it took me five years to save this much money. Five years. Of doing nothing. I had no life beyond the club, no experiences outside of work, save for the times I travelled to other clubs. For more work. I haven’t had a boyfriend since...” I pause because I can’t even remember the last actual relationship I had. “I only had friends because we worked together—”

  “Hey now—”

  “You know what I mean. If you and I hadn’t lived together and worked together, you would have never seen me. What kind of friendship is that?”

  “Kay, listen, there’s got to be something we can do.” She waves her hand in the air. “I’ll think on it. I’ll come up with something. Maybe Brandon can invest, or—”

  “I don’t want your boyfriend’s money.”

  “Why not? He’s an investor. You need an investor.” She clasps her hands together. “Easy peasy.”

  “I don’t want a pity investor. I want someone who’s actually passionate about what I’m doing.”

  Scarlet leans forward and brings her hand to my knee, squeezing gently. “Babe, sometimes you just have to take what the world will give you.”

  “I did. It gave me heartbreak and disappointment,” I say with a shrug.

  She narrows her eyes, searching my gaze for a long time before finally looking away and stepping up from the couch. “It’s late. I’m going out with Brandon tonight, so I need to get a few hours in at work first. Why don’t you go shower and get a good night’s sleep. I have some Xanax in my underwear drawer if you want to take half?”

  I laugh, ignoring the curiosity about why she keeps her pills with her panties. “I’m fine. Really. Go to work. I’ll go to bed after I finish this last box of kitchen stuff.”

  She laughs as she grabs her bag and steps toward the door. “If you steal my George Foreman, I’m coming to California to get it back.”

  “Promise?”

  “Of course.” She opens the door. “Now get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.” She winks as she closes the door behind her.

  I lean my head back against the couch and sigh. Telling Scarlet the truth about what happened to me made this situation that much more real, but somehow, speaking the words out loud took some of the weight off my shoulders. I don’t feel quite so alone anymore.

  My world is completely and forever changed, but maybe I’ll get through this after all.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Atlas

  There’s a knock on my door, so I look at my phone. It’s nearly three o’clock in the afternoon, but I’m not supposed to be at rehearsal until five. The guys should know better than to wake me up before a show.

  I force myself out of bed and slowly make my way to the front door of the suite. I glance in the mirrored wall as I pass.

  Holy fuck. I look like shit.

  I run my hands through my hair like it will make a difference, then open the door.

  There’s a hot blonde with big ass titties standing in the hallway.

  I look her up and down, then shrug. “You’ll do. Did Dave send you?” I open the door wide, then start heading back to the bed. Of course Dave sent her. I don’t deal with any other agency. Although, after that Puerto Rican chick lied to the press about Kayla, I should have fired his ass. But he fired her ass, and she was one of his best girls, so I think that shows where his loyalties lie. “I just had one of your friends here a few hours ago, but I can go again.”

  “When is the last time you left your hotel room?”

  I laugh. “No fucking idea.”

  She snorts, but it’s not a laugh; it’s a disgusted sound. Huh. Well this is a first. I’ve never been judged by a fucking whore before.

  “Are you spending all of your money on hookers, or just some of it?”

  I pause, scratching my balls as I turn around. “Some of it goes to champagne and cocaine, if you must know.” I laugh and raise my eyebrows. “Not that it’s any of your business.” I squint as I stare throug
h the booze-induced haze I’ve been in since our show last Monday night. She looks familiar. I tilt my head and try to place her. “Have we already fucked before?”

  Her mouth drops open. “Oh my God, no.”

  I run my hand over my hair and shrug. “Well, there’s a first for everything. Come on. You can leave your shoes by the door.” I climb into bed and turn the volume back up on Suicide Squad. I love Margot Robbie like a fat kid loves cake. “Oh, and call your driver and tell him not to go far. You won’t be here long.”

  I watch the movie and wait for her to come suck my dick, but she just stands in the middle of the foyer until I finally turn my head and look over my shoulder at her. “What, do you need a written invitation or something?”

  She shakes her head, eyes and mouth open in shock. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, I know, it’s a pleasure to finally meet me, you love the band, blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard it all before, and if we can skip all that bullshit, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I hate your fucking band, Atlas, and I think I kinda hate you now.”

  I snort. “Cool. Tell Dave I’m not paying for this little visit. See yourself out.” I bury deeper into the covers and wait to hear the click of the door after she sees herself out. Worst. Hooker. Ever.

  “I’ll leave these here for you.”

  Leave what for me? I roll over in time to see her walk out of my suite and step into the elevator across the hall. “You didn’t close my goddamn door.”

  “Close it yourself, asshole.” She turns around and flips me off as the doors start to close. “I’ll let Kayla know she’s way better off without you.”

  My heart stalls in my chest as everything clicks into place.

  That’s why she looked familiar. She was with Kayla the night we met.

  I jump from the bed, but don’t reach the elevator doors before they close. I press the call button repeatedly, but it’s too late. The numbers above the elevator light up as she makes her way back down to the lobby. I glance at the door to the stairs, but there’s no way I’ll catch her in time and I’m in my fucking underwear. I’ve managed to avoid the tabloids for an entire month. Not going to change that now by running through the Hard Rock in boxer briefs.