What?! Does Kellan know this woman?
Kellan grits his teeth, “Hello, Giselle.”
I guess he does.
And why do I think I recognize her? She is now close enough for me to inspect her face carefully. Then it hits me. This Giselle woman is Layce. Pop super star Layce. I think she’s wearing a wig. But she is definitely video shoot entitled bitch Layce.
I know Layce and Julian know each other. They work together. But she knows Kellan too?
Holy shit.
This is news.
Giselle a.k.a. Layce asks Kellan, “Have you missed me?”
Kellan slowly shakes his head and smiles angrily. He growls, “Not for a second.” His jaw muscles dance in his cheek. He’s fuming, I can tell. Heck, anybody could tell from the stormy look on his face. But he’s holding it in.
Okay, you only talk like that to your ex-girlfriend that you hate, or someone who kidnapped your children, or stole a million dollars from you and framed you for murder. Which leads me to the conclusion that Kellan and Layce must have dated at some point.
Kellan and Layce?
My mind is boggling.
I blurt out a short laugh of disbelief.
At that exact moment, a plain white van turns into the alley and parks in front of the back door of The Cobra. Dubs climbs out of the driver’s door and stops short, staring at the four of us. “Ah, hell naw,” he says to Kellan, “What the fuck Giselle doing here, yo?”
Dubs knows Giselle too?
Kellan glances at Dubs briefly and they exchange a quick look that is long on historic drama. Then Kellan turns back to face Giselle a.k.a. Layce.
Dubs warns Layce-Giselle, “You brave showin’ up here, yo.” Dubs’ guarded body language and tone of voice makes it clear he really doesn’t like her.
Kellan stares at her and smirks.
Giselle ignores Dubs’ critical comments. She says directly to Kellan, “You were ravishing tonight.”
Kellan narrows his eyes like he’s not believing it. He’s totally pissed now. He rolls his eyes while shaking his head dismissively. In a quiet cold tone, he hisses, “Shut. Up. Giselle.”
Wow. Kellan hates her.
Giselle smiles at Kellan, completely amused, and purrs, “You know your anger only makes you more ravishing. It always did…”
“You never quit,” Kellan scoffs, “do you, Giselle?”
She arches an eyebrow over her smirk.
Kellan turns to Julian and says, “And what the fuck do you want, Julian?”
Julian smiles politely, “I came to talk to Victory.” He turns to me and smiles as if Kellan suddenly ceased to exist, then says calmly, “Victory, I had hoped to catch you alone. Can we talk in private?”
I glance at Kellan. His face is hard and he stares at me. I don’t know what to make of it. “Ahh,” I say tentatively to Julian, “I guess so?”
He nods, “Can we step over there?” He motions toward the far side of the alley, twenty feet away.
“Sure.”
Julian leads me into the shadows on the other side of the alley next to the cinder block wall that separates the back of The Cobra Lounge from the row of residential houses running behind it. Although it’s not completely dark where we stand, the corner of The Cobra blocks the bright white light shining over the back door where Kellan stands with Dubs, Joaquin, and our pile of gear.
“What’s up?” I ask Julian.
He smiles, “First off, I have to tell you again how incredible you were tonight.”
(sing)
I smile, “Thank you, Julian.”
“Your stage presence is powerful. Are you aware how natural you are in front of a mic?”
“I guess,” I blush.
“I thought you didn’t like to sing?”
I sigh, “It’s a long story.”
(singsing)
He smiles, “Some other time, right?”
I nod.
He says, “Let’s talk about that song you sang.”
“Sunset Farewell?” I ask.
(singsingsing)
“Yes. That was a show stopper,” Julian grins.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
“I want to record it.”
(singsingsingsing)
I frown, “What do you mean?”
“I want to produce Sunset Farewell. In my studio. And release it as a single. I’d also like to shoot a video to release with the single. Are you interested?”
(singsingsingsingsingsing)
I laugh in disbelief, “Are you serious?”
“Very.” He grins at me knowingly.
“I would love to!”
He nods several times and slides his hands into his pockets. “There’s only one thing,” he says cryptically.
“What?”
“I only want you, Victory…” he glances briefly over at where Kellan stands with Dubs and Joaquin, “…not them.”
(Victory!!!)
I frown uncertainly, “What?”
“You don’t need them, Victory,” Julian soothes. “You have true talent, my dear. If you’ll allow it, I can build your career and make you a star far bigger than Layce could ever dream of becoming.” Julian glances over at Kellan and the boys again with obvious distaste and says “Those three will only stand in your way.”
I swallow hard.
Julian is asking me to do to Kellan the exact same thing Scott did to me and Skin Trade. Betray him and the band for the promise of success.
Julian says archly, “Haven’t you always dreamed of having a successful music career, dear Victory?”
(Victory!!! STOP!!!)
Chapter 133
KELLAN
“How have you been, Kellan?” Giselle purrs and steps toward me tentatively.
I flash her a warning glare to stay back.
Giselle stops. Her eyes flash in response to mine, but not with warning. Hers flash with invitation. Her lips slide seductively over her teeth in a sexy smirk, “I swear, Kellan, you’re better looking tonight than I’ve ever seen you.”
I ignore her.
I don’t care about Giselle.
I’m over her.
All I care about is Victory and the band.
Right now, Victory is talking to Julian on the other side of the shadowy alley behind The Cobra Lounge.
It takes everything I have not to walk right over and tear Julian’s head off his neck, which I could easily do. I almost did once before. If Giselle hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve finished the job. Now I’m wishing I had.
I can only imagine what kind of snake oil Julian is selling to Victory right now.
This is a fucking disaster.
Giselle was fine until Julian got to her and turned her into Layce.
Then she transformed into the freak standing in front of me right now. A mega rich superstar freak. But a total lunatic freak.
He’s going to try to do the same fucking thing to Victory.
Fuck.
Short of killing him, I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to stop him.
I just have to hope Victory is strong enough to resist his bullshit.
I thought Giselle would be, but I was so wrong.
I hope I’m right about Victory.
I hope she’s different.
All I can do is hope.
Hope.
Epilogue
KELLAN
“Dude,” I hiss to Dubs, “I gotta get the fuck outta here. Right now.” My entire body shakes with anger and adrenalin.
I’m two seconds away from killing Julian.
Dubs licks his lips, his brows tight. His eyes dart around, “What the fuck Julian be thinkin’ showin’ up with Giselle’s ass, yo? You think he knew you was here?”
I shake my head and growl, “I doubt it. Look, bro, I need to go or I’m going to do something really stupid. Can you and Joa load up my gear in your van and hold onto it?”
“You got it, dawg.”
“I’ll call you later.” I strid
e out of the alley and up the side street to my Charger without looking back. Every muscle in my body is firing like I should be hitting things. But I’m not going to.
Punching isn’t going to fix anything.
The next reasonable alternative I can think of is running. I sprint up the steeply sloped street behind The Cobra as fast as I can, going right up the middle of the road.
It takes about three minutes before I’m breathing so hard I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I slow to a walk.
When I stop and look back the way I ran, the curving road and all the houses block out The Cobra and all the drama unfolding just outside its back doors. All I see is a boring old neighborhood and the distant city lights of L.A. at night.
I shake my head. I don’t want to think about whatever the fuck is happening between Victory and Julian right now.
I just need to get out of here.
I jog back down the road until I find my Charger. I climb inside and rev the engine.
It growls angrily.
As always in L.A., my big car takes up plenty of room and I now notice I’m practically boxed in by the cars parked in front and back of me. I have to laugh, it’s so ridiculous.
L.A.
Gotta love it.
I have enough room to get my car out, but I’m forced to forward-reverse six times to squeeze out of the parallel space. If I wasn’t worried about my cherry chrome bumpers, I would’ve plowed the Kia in front of me out of the way. But I care too much about my Charger. I put a lot of love into it over the years, and I’m not going to mess it up over a girl.
It’s been with me every step of the way.
Unlike many people in my life.
God damn Giselle.
I drive down the road and turn onto a residential side street long before I get down to The Cobra.
I want to forget about tonight as quickly as possible.
I drive home in silence.
Usually, I always have music going in my car.
Right now, I don’t want anything to do with music.
Music is a pain in my ass.
Half an hour later, I park my Charger behind my apartment building and walk inside.
I drop into my couch and lean my head back against the couch cushions.
I can’t believe what happened tonight.
Julian? Giselle? Victory?
If I hadn’t lived it, I wouldn’t believe it.
I’m just glad I walked away from the whole mess before shit went off.
The thing about stepping in shit is, if you keep your eyes open, you can avoid it.
I need to learn to keep my eyes open.
I shake my head and chuckle to myself.
What the fuck have I been doing the last two months?
Pining for Victory like a fucking bitch? Like I did with Giselle?
I’m a fucking idiot.
Look where it got me with Giselle.
I shoot up from the couch and clomp into my kitchen.
Good thing I stocked up my fridge with beer.
I grab two bottles and pop both tops. I throw the caps in the sink and guzzle down the first beer.
Then I guzzle the second.
Then I remember the bottle of Jack Daniels I keep in the cupboard over the fridge. I pull it out and walk into the living room.
I don’t want to think about music tonight.
I need to push music and everything else out of my head.
I load up Netflix on my computer and scroll around until I find something new. I stumble across some show called The Inbetweeners and try that.
It’s a British sitcom about high school dudes who can’t get laid and it’s fucking hilarious. The next thing I know, I’m drinking from my bottle of Jack like it’s a two liter of Coke and I’m laughing my ass off at the show.
I’m good and drunk after four or five episodes.
I feel a million times better.
At one point, I blurt loud laughter and hazily realize my front door is wide open. I don’t want to piss off my neighbors. They’re not dicks, so I show the same respect.
I stand up to close my front door and hear a female voice outside shout, “Ow, fuck!”
I open my screen door.
Some chick has just fallen into the bushes across from my front door. All I can see is naked arms and legs poking out of the leaves and branches and wiggling like crazy. The shoes on the feet are four inch heels, and I can’t for the life of me figure out who the hell this is based on the footwear and legs alone. Not one of my neighbors. Maybe a friend of a neighbor?
I call out, “You okay?”
“Help?” she squeaks.
She can’t climb out of the bush.
I chuckle and walk toward her. My head spins nicely from the booze. I feel pretty damn fine right now. I grab one of the reaching hands and pull her out of the bushes.
The first thing I notice is the tight black dress. Whoever this is has a rockin’ body. But her hair is a tangled mess of leaves and the tresses cover her face.
She stands up and stumbles into my chest.
Her head tilts up and she brushes hair away until I see her face. Emily Needham.
“Em?” I ask, surprised.
“Kellan!” she squeals. “How are you?” She wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me. Her cheek squeezes against my chest.
“Where are your glasses, Em?”
She looks up at me and smiles, “I’m wearing contacts.”
She really is pretty without the glasses.
I say, “You never wear contacts.”
She grins, “I am tonight!”
Whoa, she is super drunk and smells like a distillery. I can’t believe it. She also has on a ton of makeup. I’ve never seen her wear makeup. She looks hot, and I know it’s not beer goggles. I always knew she was hot, she just never did anything with herself because she’s always too busy studying all her UCLA med school shit.
I ask, “Did you go out or something?”
She nods.
“Em, you never go out. What’s the occasion?”
She shrugs, “My friends and I decided to take a real study break and go to a bunch of bars in Santa Monica for once.”
“No way.”
“Yes way,” she grins. “I’m tired of being boring. I realized I have no life outside of studying. I decided to change that.”
“You didn’t quit school, did you?”
She shakes her head, “No, I just went out with my friends. And maybe drank more than I should have.” She giggles and burps. “Oops!” Embarrassed, she covers her mouth and giggles more. Then her eyes light up excitedly. “Hey! Do you want some chocolate chip cookies? I have a bag upstairs!”
“Sure,” I smile. “Why not?”
“Lemme go get them!” She stumbles upstairs and I hear keys jingling. “I can’t find the door key!” she chuckles. “Oh, wait, here it is! Be right back” I hear her door open and thumping footsteps. A moment later, she walks carefully down the stairs in bare feet. “I can’t walk in those shoes! I don’t know how girls do it day after day. I have blisters!”
She stops at the base of the stairs and holds up a bag of Chunky Chips Ahoy. She grins, “Cookies!”
We walk into my apartment and sit down on the couch. I close the front door so our chatter doesn’t wake anybody.
Em opens the bag of cookies and slides out the crinkly plastic tray. She pulls too hard and cookies fly everywhere. “Oh shit!’ she laughs.
I bend over and pick up cookies, “I hope you don’t mind carpet lint.”
“It’s just fiber, right?” she winks.
I pause and look at her funny.
I think that’s the first joke Em has ever made. Around me, anyway. But I’m surprised to discover she has a sense of humor beneath all her book smarts.
“Yeah,” I quip, “nothing like a little roughage to clean you out.”
She grimaces and cackles, “Your intestines are filled with pooh! Winnie the Pooh!!” She laughs like it’s
the funniest thing anyone ever said. “All those little yellow teddy bears with red shirts inside your guts!” She reaches over and plants both her palms on my stomach and pushes three times, “Pooh! Pooh! Pooh!” She falls back on the couch and wraps her arms around her belly and laugh and laughs.
Yeah, she’s totally drunk.
I never thought Em had it in her.
I start chuckling at her ridiculous observations about pooh.
After her laughter dies down, she looks at me with a big grin, “Hey,” she says coyly and leans over to press her finger against my chest. “Play that song for me.”
“Which song?” I chuckle, still amused by her newly found sense of humor.
“That love song you wrote?”
“Love song?” I frown.
She nods slowly, “The one you sang me awhile back?”
“Oh, you mean My Whole Life?”
“Yeah,” she grins.
“You remember it?”
Her delicate brows knit together kittenishly, “Of course I do. It was so beautiful, I never forgot it… Plus, you’ve been playing it a lot lately,” she giggles.
“Yeah,” I chuckle.
“Were you rehearsing it or something?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you ever play it for that girl you wrote it for?”
I shake my head and huff out a single humorless laugh, “Yeah. Tonight”
Em arches her eyebrow and asks uncertainly, “Did she like it?”
“I thought she did,” I scoff.
“So how come you’re not with her right now?”
“It’s way too fucking complicated,” I laugh softly and drop my head back against the couch, which causes the entire room to tip up drunkenly around me. Man, I must’ve downed more of that Jack than I realized.
“Will you play it for me?” Em asks timidly.
I gaze into her eyes.
Then I notice she has a leaf in her hair. I reach out it pluck it out of the strands. “Leaf,” I say casually.
She grabs it from my fingers and blurts, “Sorry.”
I’ve never seen Em with her hair down. It’s long and looks nice despite the disarray. The auburn locks frame her face beautifully. She really looks amazing without her glasses. I arch an eyebrow, “You really want to hear that song?”
Victory RUN: Collected Victory RUN 1, 2, 3 Page 60
