Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

  I turn to Jeremy. “Is that true?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Brad herds us in a huddle. “Listen, it’s one rehearsal. Let’s just get through it and then we can figure out how to get Bria back. We have all afternoon to come up with something.”

  “What else can we do?” Garrett says.

  I let out an exasperated breath. “I fucking hate this.”

  “Then do something to fix it,” Liam says. “But right now, we don’t have a choice.”

  We take our places. I hesitate. Tiffani strolls over to me. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but give me a chance. Maybe Brianna will come back, but if not, I’m here.”

  I rub the tense muscles in my neck. “Her name is Bria.”

  “Sorry. Maybe Bria will come back.” She’s not snobby about it, like Ronni. She’s actually kind of nice.

  I mentally kick myself for putting us in this situation and hold out a hand. “Crew.”

  She shakes. “Tiffani.”

  “You really know all the stuff?”

  “Ronni called me a few days ago. I’ve worked for IRL for two years as a house singer. She thought I’d be a good fit. Trust me, I won’t let you down.”

  “Let’s go down the playlist,” Garrett says. As he counts us off, I hope I can get through the next few hours.

  When she starts singing, my hand balls up so tightly that my fingernails draw blood. She’s good, but she’s not Bria.

  The music stops. I missed my cue.

  “Again, from the top,” Liam says sympathetically.

  I take my mic as far away from Tiffani as I can, but the music is all around me. Her voice is all around me. She hits every note, every inflection, and I curse myself as I betray Bria and sing.

  Two hours later, after Ronni and Jeremy babysit us through the entire rehearsal, Ronni pulls me aside. “I trust you’ll put yourself into it during the show.”

  “I’m doing what you said, Ronni. What more do you want?”

  “I want a performance. Nobody wants to see you sit on a stool and sing to the goddamn wall. Take some shots, smoke some weed. I don’t care what you have to do to make it happen as long as you make it happen.”

  “I suppose you’ll be there to make sure I don’t mess up? You do realize we have a manager.”

  “I’m well aware of Jeremy’s capabilities. He’s the one who gets you where you need to be. He makes sure Garrett’s drums are set up properly, the sound check gets completed, and there’s a place to park the van. But make no mistake, I run the show.”

  I laugh bitterly. “I really thought it was because you were jealous over Bria, but now I know you act like this because you’re a stone-cold bitch.”

  “If that’s what it takes to get things done.” She turns to Tiffani. “Great job, Tiff. You fit right in, like I knew you would. We can talk details during the ride home.”

  They leave, along with Jeremy. The barn is eerily quiet as the guys stare at me.

  “I know,” I say. “I screwed up. I’ve tried all week to contact her, but she won’t take my calls. She blocked me. I even followed someone into her building yesterday, but she didn’t answer her door. I sat outside for hours. I think she’s gone.”

  “Can you give us a minute?” Liam asks Brad and Garrett.

  They go outside.

  “You have to fix this,” Liam says.

  “I know, but she won’t see me.”

  “You misunderstand me. She’s not the one who needs fixing. You are.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t give me that shit. You’re so fucked up, you can’t see straight. And through all that fucked-up-ness you can’t see what’s right in front of you. Everyone knows you love Bria. Everyone but you and Bria, that is. But until you work your shit out, Abby will always be in your way. I’m not saying you have to forget her, but you need to let her go.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not sure I know how.”

  “You’d better figure it out fast. You have to get control of this anger that’s eating you up inside. You have to figure out how to be with her and not think that what happened to Abby will happen to her, because it won’t. The world is fucked up, and there are psychos out there, but you need to reel it in before she’s gone forever.” He jabs a finger into my chest. “Do whatever the hell you have to do to make this right, and do it now.”

  He leaves me alone in the barn.

  I pick up my notebook and turn to the song I’ve tried a hundred times to complete. I stare at it for a long time, but there are no lyrics in my head. I can’t finish it. I slam it shut and fling it off the table. How in the hell am I supposed to fix this if I can’t finish the song?

  Finally, I get off the couch. I lean down to pick up the notebook but stop when I see the page it opened to. I’ve never shown this song to anyone. It’s dark, sinister. It’s about all the rage that was inside me after Abby died. I read the lyrics and realize Liam’s right. Seven years later, and I can’t let go of it.

  I sit back down and stare at the words.

  Realization smacks me in the face. Maybe it’s not just her I can’t let go of.

  I sink into the couch, knowing what I have to do, but I’d never get in to see him without an act of Congress. I can only think of one person who might help. I pick up my phone, feeling like a traitor.

  Dirk answers on the second ring. “What can I do for you, Chris?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Several hours later, after being vetted, patted down, and run through a metal detector, I sit in a room wearing a large badge on my chest that reads BRIDGEPORT CORRECTIONAL CENTER – VISITOR

  Dr. Evans walks in, and his eyes immediately tear up. He comes over to me, head bobbing up and down, lips pressed together in a thin line. He sits opposite me at the table.

  “I was wondering when you were going to show up,” Abby’s father says. “It only took you seven years.”

  “Sorry, Dr. Evans.”

  “I think we’re way past that, Chris. Call me Jim.”

  I can’t help but stare at him. I don’t remember him having such deep lines around his eyes and on his forehead. And his hair, cut short, is graying around the ears and temples. The man is still in his forties, but he looks closer to sixty. I guess that’s what prison does to a person.

  When I can’t speak—mostly because I can’t get anything past the colossal lump in my throat—I reach out to shake his hand, but the guard clears his throat and motions to the NO PHYSICAL CONTACT sign on the wall.

  “It’s nice to see you, son,” Jim says. “You’re looking well.”

  “You, too.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I’m shocked. Never had he uttered a single curse word when I knew him. I guess that’s also what prison does to a person.

  “I’ve heard your music, you know,” he says proudly. “Reckless Alibi songs are on the radio all the time. Well done.”

  “How did you know that’s my band?”

  “Shelly visits me from time to time. She was here last month.”

  “My mom comes to see you?”

  “Not often. A few times a year maybe. At first I didn’t like it. It reminded me of you, and you reminded me of Abigail.”

  My chest tightens at his use of her name. “Why would she come here?”

  He shrugs. “She feels bad, I suppose. I lost my child and then my wife left me. She still has you. Over the years I found myself looking forward to her visits. Eventually I liked hearing about you.”

  I’m still amazed Mom comes to visit him.

  “So what brings you to this fine establishment?” he jokes. “I know it’s not the food.”

  I remain silent.

  “You can sit there and say nothing, son, but our thirty minutes is going to be over before you know it.”

  I think of all the things I was going to say to him, but nothing sounds right. Seconds tick away on the large clock secured to the cement wall. I look at it for one full circumnavigation of
the second hand.

  I go completely off-script and say something from the heart. “I hated you.”

  He nods. “I hated myself for a long time. Still do most days.”

  “No, this was before. I hated you for being so strict. For making Abby feel like she couldn’t come to you. For making us hide our relationship.”

  “I know you did. She was my only child. My one chance to show the world what a great father I was. But in trying to do that, I lost her.”

  “You had nothing to do with what happened.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I lost her love, her adoration. I lost it because I felt I had to control everything. Maybe that’s why she was so drawn to you. You represented everything I didn’t. Fun, freedom, unconditional love. I’m sure she hated me like you did.”

  “She didn’t hate you. She loved you.”

  “She loved you.”

  I close my eyes. “I know, but you were her father. No matter what restrictions you put on her, she still loved you. She told me she did.”

  His eyes mist. “I appreciate you telling me that, but that’s not why you’re here after all these years, is it?”

  “I’m not entirely sure why I came. I just knew I had to.”

  “Your mom tells me you have a special lady.”

  Guilt courses through me.

  “Abigail would have wanted that for you. After she died, I watched videos of her singing in your band. The way you two looked at each other—that’s true love. Anyone who loves you like that wants you to be happy. If this new lady makes you happy, then you can rest easy knowing Abigail is happy for you.”

  Tears threaten my eyes. “But I made her a promise.”

  “I made lots of promises, too.” He fingers the cross at the end of a long chain around his neck. “One of which was ‘Thou shalt not kill’.”

  I cringe. I could so easily have been one of the inmates in this very institution.

  “There’s something I never told you, Dr.—I mean Jim. Something I’ve never told anyone.”

  “I’m not a priest, Chris. You shouldn’t be confessing anything to me.”

  “Maybe not, but I have to tell you this because I think about it all the time. In some twisted way, I sometimes think life would be easier if I were here and you weren’t.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  My heart beats wildly knowing that for the first time, I’m about to say what I’ve never said before. “The last morning of the trial, I went to Liam’s uncle’s house. I knew that monster wasn’t going to get what he deserved, and Dirk would have what I needed. The district attorney told us from the beginning that Connecticut wouldn’t uphold a death penalty. But I knew I could make it happen if the judge and jury couldn’t. That day at the courthouse, after they sentenced him, I waited outside in the bushes with Dirk’s Smith and Wesson.”

  He goes white in the face. “Lord Jesus!”

  “I was going to kill him, but you did it instead.” I choke on my words. “When I heard the gun go off and he hit the ground, I thought it was me who’d shot him. I didn’t remember pulling the trigger, but he was bleeding on the ground. From where I was hiding, I could see the blood spurting from his mouth. I panicked and ran, throwing the gun into a pond, but I couldn’t stay away. I had to make sure he was dead. When I returned, you were on your knees, surrounded by police, and the area was being cordoned off. I was part of the crowd watching you get arrested and him get put into a body bag. I felt so guilty that you had gotten blamed for something I did, but then I got home and watched the news. Someone had recorded the whole thing. You appeared with your gun, said something about Abby, and then shot him from twenty feet away before giving yourself up.”

  Jim reaches for my hand, but the guard warns him about touching, and he pulls back. “I don’t know what to say.”

  I picture myself in his tan state-issued jumpsuit. “It should be me in here.”

  “No. No way.”

  “How can you say that? It was my fault he took her.”

  “He was stalking her, Chris. If he hadn’t taken her then, it would have been another time.”

  “I should have protected her.”

  “You don’t think I’ve told myself that a million times? I’m her father. If I couldn’t protect her, no one could. It was my job, not yours. You and I both know she was an independent soul. She’d have hated it if you’d become so controlling it overshadowed your relationship. You have to stop blaming yourself. No one does, least of all Abigail.”

  I wince every time he says her name. “But it should have been me who killed him.”

  “You don’t know this yet because you haven’t raised a child, but one day you’ll understand, and then you’ll know why I did it.” He laughs sadly. “I wasn’t even sure myself until this very minute. I was a pastor. It went against everything I believed in. I knew it was a sin, even though he was the sinner, but I was compelled. Driven. Almost like I was on auto-pilot.” He cocks his head and smiles. “But now I know why. I couldn’t save her, but I did save you.”

  My throat thickens. I can’t speak.

  “You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Look at what you’ve accomplished so far. You’ve made a name for yourself, and your mother is so proud of you. She beams with joy every time she speaks of you. And now you have a new lady. The future is full of possibilities. You have to stop feeling guilty about her, about me. You’ve just given me the best gift I’ve ever received. You’ve given me peace.”

  “Time’s up,” the guard says.

  “Chris, I assume you’re having some kind of internal struggle. This new lady of yours … your mother tells me she’s lovely and she loves you. Is she worthy of your love, like my Abigail was?”

  I swallow hard and nod.

  “Good.” A guard comes to take him away. “Trust in that,” Jim says over his shoulder. “Don’t waste second chances.” He points up. “He might decide not to give you a third. Goodbye, son.”

  I sit at the table long after the door shuts behind him. Then I wonder if I have enough time to do something before tonight’s gig. When I leave, I text Liam and tell him I’ll meet everyone in the city at eight.

  Then I do what I should have done a long time ago.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Bria

  I hear a knock. I open the front door and find Crew standing on Brett’s doorstep. He’s leaning against the porch rail with his hands shoved in his pockets. My heart flips over at the first sight of him in a week, but I take a step back, putting distance between us. My heart doesn’t know what my head does.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Why do you think, Bria?”

  “Because you want me in the band.”

  The look in his eyes weighs heavy upon me. “I do—we all do—but that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Save your breath. I have to figure things out myself.” I try to shut the door.

  He lunges forward and stops it with his shoe. “Please let me talk to you. I’m ready to tell you everything.”

  A long, arduous sigh works itself out of me. “I appreciate that, but I’m not sure what that will accomplish. I understand you lost someone important to you. Maybe that explains why you are the way you are, but it doesn’t excuse it.”

  “I know that, but there’s a lot you don’t know. I’m not making excuses for what I did or asking you to forgive me. But maybe talking about it is the first step to, I don’t know, maybe fixing it.”

  Despite how much I want to lock him out, an equally strong force urges me to give him a chance. He wants to tell me everything. How can I turn him away when I know how hard this must be for him?

  I step back and let him in. “Brett’s at work, and everyone else is across the street at Emma’s mom’s house.”

  He motions vaguely. “Uh, where should we …?”

  I go into the kitchen. “You want coffee?”

  “Okay.”

  The townhouse is eerily quiet as I make it
. I can feel him watching me. A sick feeling twists my stomach, knowing I’m about to find out what happened to Abby. Do I even want to know? If she died in a car accident, there wouldn’t be all this cloak and dagger stuff, would there?

  I pour us each a cup and sit across from him at the table.

  He stares at the empty chair between us. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “How about at the beginning? Where did you meet?”

  I sip my coffee as he tells me about band class and instantly being a couple. He touches his notebook when he tells me how he wrote songs for her, and she sang them, how she wanted to be a part of his band, but her parents wouldn’t allow it. By the time we finish our second cups, I feel like I know her, and I’m genuinely sad to hear what’s to come. Because I know there’s a lot. I can hear it in his hesitant voice. See it in the tension around his eyes. Sense it in the way he rubs his tattoo. What he tells me will wreck him in ways I can’t begin to imagine.

  After a long silence, he says, “There was this guy she worked with at the fast food place.”

  Dread forms a knot in my gut knowing this guy is the reason she’s no longer here.

  “He …” —his eyes close, and he takes a shaky breath— “liked her. He requested they be put on the same shifts. He kept asking her out.” He rubs his jaw. “He was a lot older than we were.”

  His phone rings, but he silences it and turns it over. “He got fired but he still came around. He’d order food and stay at the counter, trying to talk to her. Or he’d go to the drive-thru and hold up other cars. One day I was there when he came in.” He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temples. “I told him to fuck off. Said I’d kill him if he bothered her again.”

  My mouth goes dry. I think I know where this is going and suddenly everything Crew has done makes sense.

  “A week later she didn’t show up at the fair where we were performing.” His eyes get glassy. “She never missed a gig.”

  “Crew,” I say. “You don—”

  “I have to tell you.” His coffee cup has long been drained. He picks at a napkin, shredding it into pieces as his story unfolds. “I found her car. Her stuff was scattered on the ground. She was …” —his words drag on slowly as if he’s afraid of them— “gone.”