Cherry Beats

by Vicki James

  “What would Bryan Adams say about that?” Presley asked against my skin, still gasping for breath.

  “Heaven.”

  “Bourbon’s daughter?” Presley quirked a brow, looking up at me as he buttered toast at the kitchen island. I was sitting on one of the stools, finally back in my trusty trousers, but with one of Presley’s T-shirts in place of my top from the previous night. This T-shirt smelt like him, and I was pretty certain I wasn’t ever going to wash it or give it back.

  “Yeah. Felicity. She’s adorable. He brings her up by himself.”

  “Why?”

  “His wife... she wasn’t very nice.”

  “Did she cheat on him?”

  I nodded as I took a sip of my fresh orange juice. “With his brother.”

  Presley’s eyes popped, and he slid the plate of toast my way, just as I placed my orange juice back down. I grabbed a slice and sank my teeth into it, not realising how starving I was until I began to chew.

  “His brother? That’s low.”

  “Even lower is that she then left Bourbon with Felicity while she moved to Chicago with his brother. She basically told him to keep the kid and have a nice life.”

  “Shit. That’s cold.”

  “And you think you’re selfish.” I huffed. “That bitch belongs on Jerry Springer. It’s little Fliss I feel sorry for, but I spoil her as much as I can whenever Bourbon lets me near her.”

  I took another bite of my toast and looked up to find Presley staring at me, wearing a similar smile as he looked into my eyes.

  “What?” I asked around my food, resting my fingers against my mouth.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head.

  “Do I have butter on my chin?”

  “No.” He chuckled. “I just like the look you wear when you talk about something you love. You know: Bourbon. Fliss. Byran Adams. Bon Jovi—”

  “It’s Bon Fucking Jovi. Give that band the respect they deserve.”

  “Bon Fucking Jovi,” he repeated on a laugh. “Sorry.”

  I swallowed my food carefully. “You know, someday there’s going to be a kid, a girl, a woman out there in the world who sits at a kitchen counter one morning, looking into the eyes of a boy she likes, and she’s going to say something like ‘Hey! It’s Presley Fucking West to you’ because she adores you the way I love Bryan and The Jovi. The way you love Bonham.”

  “Yeah?” He raised a brow.

  “Yeah.”

  “That would be kinda cool.”

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

  Presley dropped his elbows to the counter. His hips swayed, and his muscular, shirtless chest tensed, as did his biceps, as he stared at me.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You just did.” I smirked, taking another bite of my toast.

  “You’ve been here all night, and you’ve not mentioned your actual family once. Why not?”

  Offering him a shrug, I looked down at the tiny bit of crust left pinched between my fingers, and I swallowed hard. “Nothing much to tell. We’re nothing but a regular family.”

  “I call bullshit.”

  My eyes snapped up to his, and the sexy rat bastard brought me to my knees without even trying.

  “Screw you.”

  “Your family that bad?”

  There wasn’t an answer suitable, so I stared at him, unblinking as my mind raced through a catalogue of insults it could use to get me out of the situation, but I came up short.

  “Wanna have sex again?” I ended up blurting out.

  “God, you’re amazing,” he said, laughing, looking up at me with tears in his eyes.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “If we have any more sex, either my dick will fall off, or there’ll be an imprint of me inside of you for the rest of your life.”

  “That shouldn’t sound as appealing as it does.”

  “You know, when you try to evade something, it only makes me want to know about it even more.”

  “What if there’s nothing to tell?”

  He sighed, jerking his chin. “I’ll do you a deal. If you tell me about your family, I’ll let you leave. If you don’t, you’re going to have to stay with me for a little while longer.”

  “That’s bribery. Blackmail. Both!”

  “Yes, yes, and yes.” He smirked.

  I narrowed my eyes on him and pushed my empty plate away. “You can’t make me stay.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “What are you going to do? Tie me to your bedpost until you’re ready to leave for the bright lights of superstardom?”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  “One of us is going to have to leave at some point today, no matter what happens.”

  His smug smile slipped, and his attention fell to my lips. “I know.”

  “Why prolong the inevitable?”

  “Because, for the first time in my life, shit isn’t going according to plan. You weren’t meant to make an impact. You were meant to be out of my system by now. My curiosity satisfied before I moved on to a new chapter. But just like always, Cherry, you waltz on into a situation wearing your tight leather trousers, and you surprise everyone involved. You surprise me, leaving me confused, frustrated, and a little damn lost. All my plans have been thrown out of the window, my expectations gone, too. I’ve never wanted to spend more time with a woman like this. I’ve never let them torture me with a night filled with Bryan Adams. I’ve never asked about someone’s family. I’ve never given a shit. I’ve never buttered a girl’s toast, or poured her fresh juice, even though I knew there’d be none left for me. No one has held my interest or made me laugh like you do. Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I laughed like I have in the last few hours of my life. I’m high as hell off of you, and quite honestly, I don’t know how to handle that feeling, so here I am, panicking, wanting you to stay until I figure out how the hell to let you go.”

  I was staring at him in shock, my mouth opening and closing, not knowing what to say.

  He grinned smugly before he leaned over the counter and took a hold of my hand, rubbing it between both of his. “Kinda poetic, right? That’s some Noah and Ally Notebook shit right there.”

  “Noah who?” I began to fan my face, aware that my cheeks must have been turning a flaming shade of red.

  “You okay?”

  “Yep,” I croaked. “Emotion overload. Lack of sleep. Overwhelmed by the toast. Guilt that you gave me the last of your orange juice, and I just glugged it down without even asking if you were thirsty. You know, a part of me was really hoping you’d be a massive wanker once we’d slept together. But we had to get along, didn’t we?”

  “I always knew we would.”

  “And now it’s…”

  “Bad timing.”

  “Yeah.”

  Looking back at him, I stared deep into his open, honest, enchanting eyes, and all I saw gazing back at me was a future star. Someone the world needed to see. Someone who belonged far, far away from Hollings Hill, away from this apartment and the same four walls. Someone who shouldn’t be bound by anything or anyone or any commitment.

  “I’m really going to go this time,” I found myself whispering.

  He gave me a gentle nod of understanding and placed my hand back on the counter before he pulled away. There was nothing more to say. No response would ever be suitable for the speech he’d made.

  Slipping into my boots and my jacket, I swallowed all my real emotions to try and keep it together. My throat burned, and my body throbbed from his ownership, taunting me with the memories I was already having to rely on in his absence.

  With my bag hooked over my shoulder, I moved around to stand by his side. Presley was wearing loose jogging pants that hung off his slender hips and showed the perfect V creases I’d trailed my tongue over all night long. His arms were now folded over his naked chest, and he was staring straight ahead.

  I looked up at him and laid my hand on his arm. He glanced down at me f
rom the corners of his eyes, the muscles in his strong jaw twitching.

  “My mum is called Lisa Lisbon. She was twenty when she had me. Blames me for stealing her youth. She’s regimented, bossy, entitled, and cold most of the time. And when she’s warm, it’s fake, offered for the sake of appearances. My father’s name is Seth. He’s always been so desperately in love with Mum, and willing to do anything to please her, meaning he always backs her in any argument. Dad is lazy—off work with a long-term back problem to claim as many benefits as he can. He could work, he just doesn’t want to. Mum doesn’t want him to, either. She likes having him there to gush over her all day. They drink a lot at any time of day, just not enough to be classed as alcoholics, only social losers. They love music, which has always been a good thing for me, and they generally couldn’t give a toss whether I was living with them or on the other side of the world, as long as I’m not interrupting their love affair. Then there’s my brother Freddie.” I paused and sucked in a small breath, my voice quiet when I spoke again. “He’s two years younger. A total waster, too. As lazy as Dad—as entitled as Mum. Handsome, but he knows it and uses it to treat women like shit. After that, there’s just me, and you already know everything you need to know there. The four of us live together like some mismatched, thrown-together family. I grew up around cheap clubs, cheap alcohol, and cheaper attitudes. That’s it—no chat show-worthy issues here. Just a determination to do more and be more than they ever thought I could be. A desire to live.”

  Presley’s eyes softened, but he never spoke. An understanding shone from beyond the bright blues staring back at me.

  “Thank you for being interested enough to ask about my life.”

  His nostrils flared, and he remained silent.

  “I know I have no right to say this, but I’m going to anyway.”

  Presley blinked, and I took a step closer. My palm curled tighter around his arm.

  “You were named after the king of rock ‘n’ roll. Own it, Presley, but don’t become the cliché. Don’t let the booze and the drugs or any of that crap catch up with you. You’re better than that. Remember yourself like this: talented and lovely. So charming and alive. You’re every girl’s dream and more.” I smiled softly and curled my fingers tighter into his skin. “I know I have no right to worry about you, but I’m going to anyway because that’s who I am as a person. I’m moronic, irrational, and when I like someone, I like them with everything I have. So, please, remember this moment right here when you’re at the top of the mountain about to jump. Remember this feeling of being about to embark on the most exciting journey of your life. Don’t forget why you started. Don’t lose yourself to all the other stuff going on around you. Don’t forget what this journey is about: the music, Presley. Always the music.”

  The Adam’s apple in his throat sank slowly, and then rose again before he closed his eyes. I chose that moment to rise on my tiptoes and press a last kiss to his lips. He kissed me back, only softly, never once letting his arms drop from his chest or trying to pull me into an embrace.

  He’d told me he’d let me go as soon as I told him about my family.

  There was a lot of honour in the man behind the drums.

  Without giving myself time to change my mind, I turned on my heels, tugged my bag strap farther onto my shoulder, and I walked to the door.

  “Cherry?”

  My eyes closed tightly, and I paused to glance back at him.

  “Can I see you again? Stay in touch? I don’t know.” Presley flared his nostrils and shook his head. “Hire you as my fucking cheerleader or something?”

  “I’ve been your cheerleader for years. That won’t change.”

  “It’s no good to me if I can’t see you or hear it. You’re full of good. You’re good for me. We could make something work. We could call each other, FaceTime, write or, shit, I don’t know—”

  “No, Presley.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve had my night now.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Forget about me.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “Get a grip, okay?” I said with a small huff of laughter. “Stay on track, rock star. You deserve everything you’re about to get.”

  “It doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

  “No.” I sighed. “But it’s going to be. Go, live your life.”

  “You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

  “You’ll thank me for it one day.”

  “Screw you,” he whispered.

  “You wish.” I winked.

  Then I left without looking back, holding my stomach the whole way home to try and ease the ache of losing him forever.

  “Tessa!”

  Opening my eyes, I stared at my bedroom door and let reality catch up to me. I’d left Presley’s place only a few hours ago. I was home again.

  “Tessa, for fuck’s sake!” Freddie called. “You have a visitor.”

  “What?” I groaned, lifting my head from the pillow on my bed.

  “Take your earphones out, you cockwit. I said you have a visitor,” Freddie barked in his oh-so-brotherly manner.

  I sat up slowly, taking a quick inventory of what I was wearing. Baggy grey jogging pants, a loose cream vest top, and no bra. Shit.

  “Who… who is it?” I asked, quickly running around my bedroom to throw on a bra as my heart began to pitter-patter in my chest. “Freddie?” I called out, tiptoeing to the top of the stairs and brushing down my wild hair.

  My brother was laughing with someone by the front door, too lost in conversation to give me another moment of his attention. I began to walk down the steps as carefully as I could, cautious to see who was waiting for me at my shitty little house with my strange, awkward family in front of them.

  The pair of dark boots were the first thing I saw standing in the front doorway.

  Then dark jeans.

  Hope bloomed in my chest at once, but with one more step closer towards my visitor, it deflated like a popped balloon the second I realised it was only a delivery driver.

  Freddie glanced over his shoulder and pointed to the guy. “Delivery for you.”

  “Couldn’t you have just signed for it for me?” I snapped snarkily, moving quicker to push my little brother out of the way.

  Freddie stumbled back, glowering at me with a cock-sure smirk on his face. “I can’t. Apparently, it’s your signature he needs.”

  “Whatever,” I mumbled and looked straight up into the delivery driver’s eyes. He was a biker driver, peering at me through the open visor of his helmet as he clung onto the backpack on his shoulder. “Sorry your day is so shitty that you had to stumble upon my arsehole of a brother. It’s true, people like him do exist in this world. But please don’t tell the locals we’re housing him here. They’ll be marking our door with an X and coming to burn us all at the stakes within hours.”

  The biker’s brows rose in surprise before he laughed against the inside of his helmet. “Are you Tessa Lisbon?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool.” The driver swung the backpack off his shoulder, dropped it on the floor, and bent down to unzip it. I took the opportunity to glance at Freddie and frown, but my brother just shrugged like he was bored of everything already—life, me, talking, breathing—and he slipped away, sticking his earphones back in his ears without a care in his miserable little world.

  I looked back down at the guy who was now pulling something out of his bag: a big ball of leather I recognised instantly.

  “I have this for you to sign.”

  The biker stood tall again, holding out Presley West’s leather jacket in one hand and a black Sharpie pen in the other. All I could do was stare at him in shock as my entire skin prickled to life.

  “I-is that…?”

  “It’s from a Mr West. He’s asked that you sign this, and then I return it to him.”

  I pointed a weak, pitiful finger at it. “He… he wants me to sign it?”

  “I
don’t always understand the requests my customers make.” I took the leather jacket from his hand, feeling the weight of it like I had Presley’s heart beating in my grip. “He said write whatever you want on the inside. You earned it.”

  My eyes filled with tears, and when I looked back up at the biker, he held out the pen for me to take.

  “You’re taking this back to him now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s leaving soon.”

  “Really soon,” he said, seeming to lose a bit of patience as he pushed the pen closer to me.

  “Can I have a minute?” I asked weakly, and something in the way I pleaded must have made the biker soften because he gave me a small nod before he turned his back on me and stared out at our small front garden.

  My feet carried me up those stairs like they had the ability to fly, and when I sat on the edge of my bed with his jacket in one hand and a Sharpie in the other, I tried to control the trembling of my fingers.

  He’d asked me to sign his jacket, which meant…

  Holy shit.

  I closed my eyes and winced because this hurt more than walking away from Presley this morning, and I knew I still had to let him go. I still had to give him my best wishes, hope he soared, and try not to crumble in the meantime, so I did what I always do best: I strapped on an Oscar-worthy smile, laid his jacket on my bed and opened it up. Inside was a small blue post-it note stuck to the material that read:

  You got me falling, Cherry.

  A small, nervous laugh escaped me, and a tear of mixed-emotions fell unexpectedly. There was only one thing left to write on the inside of his jacket now.

  No regrets.

  Cherry

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Present Again

  Everything we’d ever said to each other that night came back to me. I stared up into Presley’s bright blue eyes as we lay on the floor of my apartment. His hair hung over his face above me, and he held the weight of his body just enough not to crush me as we panted and tried to catch our breaths.