Forever, Hold On (Rock Romance Book 5)

by Wood, A. L.

  As I pull the comforter and sheet down so I can crawl into the queen sized bed the guys have in the guest room I had claimed, I think about what Abagail was trying to say to me.

  I have a problem, okay, maybe more than just one problem. I can admit that. My biggest is that I don’t want to discuss my past. I didn’t then and I sure as hell don’t want to now. Abagail and Selena only know what they happened to see that one night. They don’t know what had gone on the years prior to that. They didn’t know that my earliest memory is of abuse. They weren’t aware that it was the only constant I had. They didn’t know that I was grateful they said something, because I never said anything. Abagail had said that I needed to move on. I’ve tried that.

  If I could, I would in a heartbeat. I don’t want to linger and hold on to the anger that constantly threatens to consume me. I want to live, but every time I make a move to act out of the normal for me, I freeze. The anger never wants to leave. It suffocates me until it’s all I can feel.

  Anger at people who do live.

  Anger at people who have a family who cares.

  Anger at people who love.

  I’m angry every fucking day. I wake up with it on my shoulders, I go to sleep with it as a bed partner, wishing that when morning comes it’s pulled a fast one on me and took the out as a one night stand.

  When I think about moving on from it, I become frantic in thought. Who will I be without it? Without harboring anger toward my father for ignoring what my mother did to me. Without carrying hate toward my mother for creating me. If she hadn’t had me, I wouldn’t have been given the existence I’ve had to deal with every day, day in, day out.

  I don’t want to die, that’s never been a thought in my mind. But I feel like my parents cheated me at life. I could have had so much more, felt so much more, have been so much fucking more if they hadn’t made the choices that they did. And when I do move on from the anger, where does it go? Will it just disappear and then reappear if I have a bad day?

  What if I decide I’m worthy of love? How will my potential lover view the scars they left on me? Who would accept me and all that I am?

  "The only truth is music." - Jack Kerouac

  Chapter Five

  I don’t have a sad story of my past. I’ve always been emotionally functional. No trust issues, no hardened exterior because of what people have done to me. Not like the other guys, they’ve all been fucked sideways in the head, and in the heart. If I had to wade the water of any bullshit they’ve almost drowned in, I would have collapsed, because truthfully I’m just not that fucking strong.

  These guys are my brothers and I respect them like no other. When I see them making it through every obstacle unscathed, a better person than they were before, it makes me jealous. Jealous that I haven’t had bullshit thrown at me, mad that my parents allowed me to go through life so damn easy. I don’t have that experience. I’ve never had to defend myself. I’ve never had to need desperately. I’ve never been hungry for anything but success. I want to have to fight for something, to go to war for a need or want. Just to prove to myself that I am fully capable of getting through a better man.

  I want to fight, just not with Raven.

  But it looks like this morning, as every morning, she can’t go on about her fucking day without picking an argument with someone. Today seems to be my lucky day, because her figurative dagger is aimed at me.

  “Will you watch what the fuck you’re doing?” she yells at me, just as I accidentally bump her elbow while walking by.

  “Sorry, wasn’t on purpose.” I mutter, not even awake myself yet.

  “Sure it wasn’t.”

  “Listen, I just woke up, so could you please put your need to argue with me on hold until I wake the fuck up.”

  “I just woke up. It would have been nice if people were watching where they were going.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “What is wrong with you? Accident. Do you need me to spell it out for you? A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T. Accident. I didn’t purposely walk into the kitchen just to bump into your fucking arm. I came in here to grab a cup of coffee, from my coffee pot. Or do I need permission, your grace?”

  “Oh, this is that type of house, one where you put your names on everything you buy? No one can use your property, is that it? Maybe that’s why you ran into me, because I used your coffee pot?”

  What?

  “You’re crazy, nuts in the fuckin’ head. Trying to play a head game, turning the shit around on me. You know what, though? I’m just going to end this here and now. By answering you, I’m only giving you want you want and that’s anger. I’m just- I’m over it.”

  I grab a coffee mug out of the cupboard and set to making my morning brew. One cup is my limit, though. If I drank more the caffeine would overtake my system. Beyond my alcohol, all I consume is water and the one cup. I’m caffeine sensitive, my hands shake, my stomach knots with the need to run around. I dislike the feeling of a caffeinated buzz, but a mug will give me that small jolt I need to become alive.

  “So, are you a part of the band or something?”

  “Are you really still here, Raven?” I question, while blending creamer in the mug.

  “Really, are you a roadie? Maybe a bus driver? You have to be important for them to allow you to shack up with them. So what is it?”

  “Are you a fan of Steele’s Army?” I ask her, befuddled that she wouldn’t know who I was. Even after meeting me months ago at the bar Abby met Gage in, we talked for a bit, she was nice then actually. She had wanted to come back with me, but I couldn’t do it. She had more than just a few drinks, making her compromised. I rode in a taxi back to her place, carried her up to her apartment, tucked her in, and left.

  I still possess morals and values. If a woman comes after me and she’s drunk, it’s an absolute no-go. I’m out.

  “Not as big a fan as Abby is, but she got us all into Steele’s Army when we were younger. Of course I’m a fan.” Raven finally replies.

  “And you still don’t know who I am?” I ask, turning around to face her.

  She pauses for a moment, in thought I believe. She pulls the left bottom corner of her perfectly pink lip in and nibbles on it with her teeth. She doesn’t recognize me.

  “Well, why don’t we start over, shall we? You already know my name, Jason, some call me Jase. I am the drummer for Steele’s Army.” I shove my hand out in front of her.

  “You’re lying. You know they’re going to be pissed when I tell them you’re an imposter, right?”

  I eye her.

  “Seriously? You don’t believe me?”

  “Has someone actually fallen for that?” She pauses, her eyebrows raised in question. “Oh my God, someone really has? That’s a story you’ll have to share, after everyone wakes up, so they’ll know what you’re doing.”

  I decide to go along with it. She wanted to wake up pissed off at the world this morning and take it out on me, then so be it, she can fall into this.

  Can’t wait until everyone wakes up.

  “Yeah, for sure I’ll share the story of how I introduced myself as a drummer for Steele’s Army and someone fell for it.”

  She smiles.

  I smile back.

  I feel like we’re in a boxing ring, the bell having been just run to sound that the round ended and we reconvene at our own corners. Well right now is the end of the first round, my backs against the turnbuckle and Raven and I just keep giving each other stares that amount to words that make up silent threats. I suppose she’s trying to relay that she’s got me. She found me out, that she’s going to let my ass rot on the sidewalk and bake in front of the guys.

  With my stare, I’m lying. I’m putting off the ‘I’m scared and worried, please don’t tell look’ but inside I’m laughing my fuckin’ ass off. I’ve known Gage and Zepp almost half my life, they know me. I know them, inside out, even when they believe I didn’t know their stories. They’ll play along with it, they’ll overreact, be pissed, threaten me, maybe even go as far
as pretending to kick me out of my own home. Just to fuck with her.

  All in good laugh, though. In the end they’ll tell her I’m not an imposter.

  The silence ticks by. I slowly sip my lightly tan brewed cup of wake-up while she sits at a stool with her hands rested on the counter before me. A silent battle that’s broken moments later by footsteps. Oddly enough, Gage, Selena, Abagail and Zepp all emerge into the kitchen.

  “Morning, Rave.” Abagail greets Raven.

  Raven just nods while Abby proceeds to grab herself a cup of coffee, followed by Gage. Zepp and Selena sit on the outside of Raven.

  “So what are the plans for today?” Selena asks giddily.

  “We hadn’t made any yet, thought we could all decide together.” Abagail replies.

  “I’m down for whatever, but first I wanted you guys to know that your housemate is a complete imposter. First thing this morning he shoves me.”

  I cut her off. “I did not shove you. Every time you recite the story it becomes worse and worse. It was a small jolt, a tiny bump, then you turn it into my entire body weight full force slamming into you. Now you say I shoved you? You’ve lost it.”

  Everyone remains silent, just watching the dilemma play out.

  “That’s not the worst of it, though. He’s an absolute imposter.”

  “How so?” Zepp asks her.

  I grin.

  “He told me that he was your drummer.”

  Abagail laughs, so does Selena.

  But Gage and Zepp, they look to me. I wink.

  “Really? He’s claiming to be our drummer?” Gage questions her.

  Raven nods her head.

  Zepp stands away from the bar stool, “Who are you? How dare you do this to us? We welcome you into our home, provide you with room and board, without complaint and what do we get? You going around telling people that you’re in our band? That you’re a musician? You’re so un-fuckin-grateful. Out. I want you out. We want you out. Go pack your shit and leave.”

  “I’m lucky you allowed me to live with you guys. It’s been the highlight of my life, and I am grateful. But do you really have to kick me out? It was a small misunderstanding.”

  “Pack your shit and leave. You’ve also lost your job.” Gage reinforces Zepp.

  It’s hard to hold a straight face, to not laugh.

  “This is all your fault. You just had to tell them I shoved you, didn’t you? You couldn’t just keep my job between you and I, could you? This is your fault, thanks for that.” I direct my anger toward Raven, adding the dramatic flair.

  I leave them in the kitchen and run upstairs to my room. Not to pack, but to get dressed for whatever they have planned for the day. She can wallow in the decision she made by not believing me for a little while longer.

  “I know for sure that what we dwell on is who we become.” - Oprah Winfrey

  Chapter Six

  “You guys didn’t have to kick him out and fire him. What will he do, where will he go?” I ask nervously.

  “That’s not for us to worry about. He made his bed. He can lie in it, even if it’s on the ground.” Zepp says callously.

  “That’s kinda harsh, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before opening your mouth. Then we wouldn’t have known.”

  I knew he wasn’t in the band. He looks nothing like the others. I’ve heard the saying you can’t judge a book by its cover a million times, yet I go against it anyway and this time what my gut was telling me was correct. When I first met him, we didn’t reach the introduction level, where we would tell each other what we did as a profession. We only went as far as first names. I figured he was some road hand or maybe entourage. I’ve heard that celebrities are into that sort of thing.

  Carrying friends and family with them on their road to success. I guessed that’s what he was, and I was right. When he said he was the drummer, I knew he was lying. Jason was wearing a wife beater and flannel pajama bottoms. His skin was unetched, unmarred, not any kind of intricate artwork tattoo displayed, nor any facial piercings. And his hair, the kind of hair that’s just long enough for a tug while doing dirty things. Sandy brown thickness that I could latch onto with my fingertips. His eyes a murky brown and emerald green, hazel. Strong jawline with lips that I would appreciate being against mine.

  Obviously it’s been way too long for me without sex.

  I don’t have a long string of past bed partners. I don’t go out every week looking for one night stands. I’m not commitment phobic, but I’m also not seeking my one true soul mate. I’m not searching for love. I’m satisfied with how I live my life now, happily.

  Whenever my body craves a man’s touch, that’s when I go out. I tend not to linger any one place too long until finding what I call my Jacksons. A nameless, faceless male. When I spot my Jackson I approach, offer to buy a drink, then ask them if they want to head out. We go to my place or theirs. If their place is too far away then it’s mine, which complicates things. It’s harder to get them to leave. I pump and dump, love ‘em and leave ‘em. It sounds crass. I could even be classified as a slut. I don’t try to pour sugar over the wording, it is what it is.

  Sometimes I can go a year or two, other times maybe a few months. Abagail nor Selena have ever ridiculed me in what I do. I’m always safe about it. Condoms are a must, because you can’t hand trust over so easily. I also get a shot every month for birth control. Double protection from unwanted dilemma’s. I can’t say that I want to be single forever, that I wouldn’t snatch it up if it were offered. Honestly, I have no answer as to what I would do with that. I do know that fear is something that comes with what relationships can produce, namely children.

  Children are my biggest fear. Becoming a parent. I worry over something that hasn’t even come to fruition every time I sleep with someone, or even think about having sex. Over exaggeration is a flaw of mine. I do it in life, in conversations, and I do it in my head. There’s one thing my mother and father taught me, and that was to do the opposite of everything they ever did to me.

  What if I were to meet the one, the game-changer man? We begin dating, frequently at first, then too often. He asks me to move in. Maybe he asks me to marry him, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he wants children. Maybe….no, no I don’t.

  I don’t want to become my parents. I don’t want to harm my child. I once read an article about criminals, that usually the ones who criminalize people were first victims. That somehow the injury they suffered causes them to force someone else to have to suffer through it too. Hypothetically I have a child with my hypothetical soul mate, what then? How do I know I won’t abuse my child, that I could withstand the emotion needed to parent a child?

  I don’t know the answers to any of those questions, thus causing me to rule out ever having a child.

  It wouldn’t be fair to my hypothetically unborn child.

  Parents should nurture and protect. Support, guide, love, compliment, feed, clothe, hug, and fucking love all over again. A parent should never lift a hand in anger, meant to hurt. A parent should provide for their child, and raise them with the tools they need to be successful in life. Parents should ingrain morals.

  I don’t see a child in my future, not unless I can fight the currents in the water of the past.

  “Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.” - Albert Einstein

  Chapter Seven

  “What are you still doing hanging around here? I thought you were supposed to be packing your belongings and jumping ship.”

  “Raven, Raven, Raven….what am I going to do with you? Did you at all feel guilty that you could have gotten me evicted from my house? No? Okay, how about the fact that you tried to make my friends and yours believe I physically harmed you? Did that make you feel guilty?”

  She hesitates in answering for a moment. “I was concerned with you possibly being homeless, nevertheless though. You shouldn’t be screwing with people’s heads and lyin
g about who you are. That’s not okay, so no at the end of the day I don’t have guilt when you were the one lying.”

  “And here I was thinking you were just a bitch all the time. You actually have a heart and care about people, don’t you?”

  “Of course I care, lies hurt people. One lie turns into many lies, which can turn into not only hurting one person but many. It was better for you to be ousted now, than you retelling said lie many times. Where are you going to go?”

  “Who said I was going anywhere?” I say all but smiling.

  “I wouldn’t be happy if I were in your predicament, and if I remember correctly, not even an hour ago you were kicked out.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll break the news now, we were just fuckin’ with you. I am who I said I was. I’m not a road hand, nor am I just a friend hangin’ around. I actually own this house as well. I am the drummer for Steele’s Army. I wasn’t lying to you at all. You just assumed there was no possibility that I was who I claimed to be.”

  “What?

  “You heard me.”

  “You’re really the drummer for Steele’s army? Why would you all just go along with it?” She stiffens, her face serious.

  Apparently she’s never had a prank played out on her.

  “It was a joke, it’s what we do. Loosen up a little.” I laugh at her.

  The makings of a smile form at the corner of her peach lips. She’s so damn beautiful. I only wish that her mood matched her appearance. Her hair is dark brown, bordering black and it hangs to the middle of her back with heaviness. Her frame is petite and curvaceous, with perfectly rounded breasts just big enough to fit in my grasp. Her rounded ass makes my mouth water. Too bad the owners voice makes me cringe, because it’s always so full of hate.

  “You mind?”

  Her gray eyes stare at me with hostility. “What?”