Rock Bottom (The Handler Series Book 1)

by Angie M. Brashears

  “It wasn’t like that. I’m a single parent and well, who wouldn’t fuck Shamus?”

  “Right? But, you never wanted more?” I ask, very interested. If she says yes, I’m going to throw him out a temperature-controlled window.

  With just the right amount of surprise, she asks. “With Shamus? Nah, I’m hung up on someone I can never have, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying mutually beneficial sex. It was better than killing the married ex. Make sure you treat him with care. I might not always be hung up and Shamus is definitely husband material.” This time, I let her leave, but I do lean out the door and watch that tight little ass wiggle away. Nothing wrong with a little looky, but no touchy.

  And I’m not the only one. Cody stands guard outside the door. When she passes, Cody holds an arm out, which she takes. Escorting her to the elevator, he’s all blushes and smiles once the elevator closes. “Hot mama.” He says.

  Looks like Cody won’t have a problem taking care of the single mothers of the world. Justice has his hands filled with me.

  I’m already thinking of words that rhyme with material. Ethereal, venereal? Ick. Not ready for lyrics quite yet but at least the creative juices are flowing.

  Sweaty and tanned, Shamus comes by and I casually mention. “Friday stopped by.”

  “Oh, did she?” He says.

  A song starts forming in my head, I like it, fast, sexy, scandalous. “Beautiful and brainy. I think she just named my next song.”

  “Really, what is it?” He kicks off his shoes.

  I stride across the room and slam the door he left open. “Don’t get too comfortable, Shamrock. I want you to answer a question for me. Did you tell her to come by? Some kind of make Nova jealous game, to show me there are other women in the world who want you? You know what she said?”

  Hands on my hips, my face screws into a pout and I mimic her. “Who wouldn’t want to fuck Shamus?”

  “Jealous?” He grins.

  “Yes! You two had a thing. Friday on Fridays, that’s cute.”

  He walks over and takes me in a hug but I fight, just a little.

  “Nova, stop. Look at me. What we have is a thing. Or, at least I hope we do. I know your nervous, a little scared, I am too. One day, you might decide that you’re good on the Shamus sauce and want to try a little Cody cocktail. I hope that day never comes, but if it does…”

  Pushing away from him, I say. “I knew it! Tell me why you don’t like Cody.”

  Who says I don’t?” He asks with a blank face.

  “Shamus, I do! Whenever he’s around, you’re always sizing him up. Giving him that, “let’s go bro.” fight look. I saw the way you looked at him in the elevator. What gives?”

  Resigned, he says. “He was supposed to be your soy sauce.”

  I stroke his cheek. “But you’re my sauce.”

  “That’s what I told Justice.”

  “Wait. I’m a little skeeved out. That guy put me in restraints, Shamus!”

  “Oh crap. I didn’t even think about that. He’ll be gone by tomorrow.” He says.

  I laugh. “Shamus, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t fire him, he works for me. Besides, I like him…but not enough to give up my favorite sauce.” I say.

  He pulls me against his erection and whispers. “What are you doing right now?”

  Because it’s him, I say. “You.”

  Everyone’s wants a piece, all I want is a piece of him. He takes care of my spirit, soul mind and body. He’s not like the rest.

  Whimsy, who stole my youth. Rusty who stole my money. Kikkobolobba who stole anything that wasn’t nailed down. Then a slew of Randoms I just gave myself away too. Until there was Shamus.

  ****

  A little over a week later, Justice calls. “Wake up Nova. You’ve got appointments in Los Angeles today.”

  My stomach does a little flip. “What time?”

  “Noon. Get moving.”

  I sit up. “Noon? That’s no time at all.”

  “Exactly. No time to fret and worry. Only time to wash that ass. The plane’s waiting for you and Ilsa is too. Clock’s ticking.” He says.

  I jump out of bed, and after “washing said ass” I’m ready with an hour to spare. Everything’s on point, the shoes, my champagne Chanel suit, red lips, I’ve even got my hair up in a chignon. So-phisticated.

  Except for my purse which looks like it came from the lost and found. I can’t go out in public with this.

  Looking around for an acceptable replacement, the only thing I find is a leather attaché case. It matches my shoes perfectly.

  I open it, and inside, I find the contract that started it all.

  Feeling nostalgic, I kick off my shoes and start to read. After going through it twice, one word stands out.

  Perpetuity.

  It’s a wonderful word. Full of flowy sounding syllables that seem to go on forever. I wonder why more singers don’t use it instead of saying, till the end of time. It has such a nice ring, much better than Shamus typing, I own your sparkly ass.

  I’m squeezed from the inside out.

  Even Phil Whimsy didn’t have the balls to go this far.

  Why do I do this shit to myself? I wonder as even know, I push my fingerprint against the pad and my ‘needs’ are all carefully packaged. Everything’s clearly labeled, typed out with the name, dose, and frequency. Where’s the fun in that?

  Yearning for my Flintstone chewables, I put a hand over my eyes and grab the first packet I touch and take my joint out on the terrace.

  Perpetuity. That’s a long goddamn time. Before I cut bait, I pull out my laptop in the middle of my beautiful apartment. Ugh, why did I pick today to read the contract, I think as I google the Four Leaf, probably something I should have down before I signed anything. Mob? Seriously. I’m in perpetuity with the mob? I can’t wait to see what Sellout Magazine will say about this.

  But that’s me, always jumping in with both feet, I just hope they don’t end up encased in concrete.

  Justice and all his little buddies, The Shamrock Shake included, mobsters?

  But I’m not seeing it. My sweet, up for anything Shamus Malone is mob? Well, he is Irish. Weren’t the Sons of Anarchy in Ireland once? But I’ve never even seen him ride a motorcycle. Wait that’s a gang, this is serious. Mob?

  I read a little further and ask aloud. “What the fuck does mob adjacent mean?”

  My body’s already moving towards the door, running with no destination. Am I really doing this right now?

  And it’s Ilsa’s face that pops into my head. The same one that looks on my kindly every morning and says. “Thanks for showing up today.” God, why do I have to get attached to everyone?

  Then I think back to the day we met. Me, wandering alone, taking dollars for pictures. She’d introduced herself and whispered. “If you feel like you’re going to go “off the rails,” give me a call and let me know. I won’t stop you, I just want to make sure it doesn’t end in a train wreck.”

  And that’s been our code. If I feel like someone is going to hurt me, I just have to say. “Train wreck.” Into my iWatch. I wait 1…2…. For the knock on my door.

  On the casino’s webpage, there’s a countdown. One week. Nova…Sold out show. Stage is set, shows sold out. Nova, with an exploding star in the background. With the rage of a thousand exploding suns in my chest. I gather my things, along with my fake IDs. I’m going off the grid.

  After all, what would a big chance be without me there to fuck it up. My hands shake as I leave him a note.

  Two can play just as easily as one.

  Chapter 29

  Shamus

  “What do you mean just walked out? How is that possible?” I ask Ilsa. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching her?” Unbelievable.

  Ilsa, at least has the nerve to look guilty as she hands me the contract. “She left you this.”

  With a note.

  I was on a temporary hold when I signed this…I checked. No court in the land will enforce t
his.

  Thanks for your support, NovaKain

  And signs it like I’m just some other groupie.

  Generic, like I’m just another fan.

  I flip through the contract and there’s a big, red heart drawn around one word. Perpetuity.

  Unbelievably, I read the sentence that one word belongs to.

  Performing at the Four Leaf in perpetuity. I know what it means. I’m stuck in perpetuity in this crazy fucking family. And I’m pissed. But not at her.

  “Well…go look for her!” I yell at Ilsa and fall onto the coach. Will there ever be an easy day? One where I wake up, have my breakfast and Nova, and get to eat both? Is that ever going to happen? I skim the rest of the contract. This can’t be real. Why didn’t I read the fucking thing before asking her to sign it?

  “Siri, call Justice!” I yell.

  “Shamus? Is that you? I’m having trouble understanding…”

  I take a deep breath. She couldn’t have gotten far, and in a more reasonable tone ask politely.

  “Calling Justice.”

  Her clothes are still in the closet. But her go box? It’s flown the coop with her.

  “Justice,” he says.

  “If you were here, I’d punch you in your third person referring face right now. Where the hell is she?”

  “She needs a moment.”

  “What you’re really saying is she needs a break from me?” I ask.

  Justice sighs. “I think from all of us, bro. She wouldn’t even let Ilsa on the plane with her.”

  “Is she coming back?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure. It’s up to her. I’m not a savior, just a maintainer…remember?” He says softly.

  “Just like that, I’m handled out of the picture. You should do this for a living. You’re really good at handling things. You son of a bitch.”

  Justice explodes. “You do not get the last fucking word, Shamus! No, I didn’t read the contract. I was too busy watching my brother slide the noose around his neck! No, I didn’t read the contract, but I’m not the one fucking her, am I?”

  There’s nothing left to say. “Justice, take care of her.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. I’m the offended party, I’m the one that should be pissed.

  “You’re either in or out. You can’t just give up when the going gets tough. Maybe it was too soon. After your dad…”

  “Why don’t you just go ahead and say it. I killed him.”

  The door opens and he continues talking to me on the phone, standing right in front of me. “Do you know why I couldn’t be here when your dad was drinking himself to death? Because he would’ve went a hell of a lot faster with both of us pouring booze down his throat. I loved my uncle too.”

  “I’m right here. Talk to me.”

  There’s tears in his voice, when he lowers the phone. “Since my conception, dad’s been killing himself. You little brother just got to witness the destruction of a good man. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  Chapter 30

  NovaKain

  Will she, or won’t she?

  When I land in Los Angeles…my little addict sits up. Back straight, she holds onto the edge of the seat. My nostrils pang for the familiar burn. The addict in me remembers, I’ve got Vinnie’s BeefKakes card tucked in my purse somewhere, but it’s me that pries our fingers loose from the leather handles. “Settle down girl, we’re not learning the secret of the Ancient Chinese today.”

  Or any other day for that matter. I’ve got all that I need with Shamus. More like Shameless, I think with a blush.

  Entitlement…it’s such a slippery slope.

  This is what gluttony looks like.

  Molly, call Shamus.

  Breathless, he says. “The roof, twenty minutes.”

  “Why twenty minutes?” I ask.

  “I need a shower.”

  “Shamus, what are you doing?” I taunt.

  “Working out.’

  “Make it five. And Shamus?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t shower.”

  Just this morning, rubbing sunscreen into my bare back as he took me from behind on the rooftop.

  Wait for my next call. He’d said and I do. I never know if the call will come during the middle of a business meeting, which it has, or while I’m in the tub. If he were a fighter, I’d lay odds on Shameless Shamus Malone.

  I give him final say over where this pussy gets slayed. Damn, that’s a good line, but there’s no way that’ll ever get airplay. I think with a grin.

  But squirm in the leather seat.

  No one else gets me like him.

  Him…Shamus, of course. Who on this whole entire Earth cares about me the most? In good or in bad, basically he takes all my shit and asks for more. Thank you, ma’am. May I have another. I like him. I like the way he gives in to me, meeting my needs before I even know that I have them and I’m going to run away from that? Here, it’s all Nova. I get final say and I want to make sure it stays that way. Why would I ever want to leave? Behind every bitch is the good girl she used to be, rooting her on.

  If he wants this mess for forever, he’s fucking got it.

  Maybe I should call him? Let him know that perpetuity turns me on but that will give it all away and I’m a girl that loves some good old-fashioned anticipation.

  The seatbelt sign flashes. Life should come with one of these, I think, and tug on mine to make sure I’m buckled in tight.

  Michael? Miguel? Takes long strides down the aisle. Hand on his hips, he looks me up and down under the guise of checking my belt. Through pursed lips he spits my name like venom. “Miss Nova.”

  I take it, he is not a fan.

  ****

  Back at The Staple. The scene of the crime, but this time I’ve got my shit together and hold my head up high. “I’ve got two men coming to visit, my accountant and lawyer. Would you mind sending refreshments to the penthouse?” I ask the concierge sweetly.

  “Right away, Miss Kain.”

  Eyeing my needs box, I sip wine while I wait. I’ve got to be as clear as I can for this meeting. The lawyer makes notes for the new contract. When he’s got everything he needs, he moves to the bedroom to type. “Oh, and make sure it states, Carte Blanche Shamus. I want that in there. No, I’m serious, put it in.”

  The phone rings. “Hi Nova. It’s Dan Halstead, your accountant. I’m in the lobby.”

  “Be right down.” I say.

  Before I leave, I call out to the stranger in my bedroom. “On my way to iDisc headquarters, then back to Vegas. Make sure you fax me a copy at The Four Leaf when you’re done.” I say.

  The iDudes couldn’t simper anymore if they tried. Walking into the lobby, there’s an enormous picture of me naked behind the receptionist desk and I cringe. “Get rid of that please.”

  “Right away, Miss Kain.”

  I pose, for a limited amount of pictures, shake all the right hands and sit back with a smile on my face as my accountant finagles a more lucrative deal for my next album. Amends.

  On the way to the airport, he jots notes in shorthand as I give him instructions for the money.

  Before I get on the plane, I peruse his notes. “That’s right. 10% to charity. 10% to The Handlers. This much goes into savings, and the rest? I’ll need a cashier’s check for.”

  Unbelievably, he looks at me over his glasses. “And I’ll need that at the hotel by the time I land.”

  “That’s not a problem. I’ll draft it and the Vegas office will courier it over.”

  When I get back to The Four Leaf, I take the service entrance up to my apartment. “I’m home, Ilsa.” I say because I know she’s close.

  The rest of the afternoon, I work with an urgency. On the phone with bankers and architects. When someone knocks on the door. I check the peephole, and there’s Justice.

  Looking dangerous. I open the door.

  “Why are you here? I’m doing fine.” I say.

/>   “Just heard from the accountant. I had six million reasons to come. You transferred all you iDisc money to Shamus? Unbelievable! I just got Rusty’s hand out of your cookie jar and you gave it to another guy?” he asks.

  “Shamus is not just some other guy, he’s the guy. You may be in charge of my fame, but my money and who I choose to spend it on is off limits. You got that?”

  Pride fills his eyes. “Yes, Miss Kain. If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind calling Shamus? He’s out of his head with worry.”

  “Haven’t you boys ever heard of surprises?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No.”

  Once the door closes, I say. “Siri, love. Call Shamus.”

  He answers but doesn’t say a word.

  Heavy breathing is never a good sign. “Not talking to me, Shamus? Why? Because I went to LA? You just assume I fucked up? Thanks for the confidence.” I spit out.

  And he hangs up. Mother Fucker!

  Doesn’t this dick know who I am?

  Oh no…I think and jam the down button. This elevator is slower than shit. Tapping my foot, I watch the numbers slowly go down. Cheez us, you do not get the last word today, Shamrock Malone.

  Ready for a knock down drag out, I bang on the door like I’ve got a warrant. “Shamus! Open this door. We are finishing this…”

  The door opens, and he doesn’t even look at me, just sits on the leather sofa and hangs his head in his hands.

  “Shamus?” I ask. When he doesn’t answer, I try again. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

  He raises his head, and this is not a look I’d ever want to bottle. All the world’s hurt is in his eyes when he says. “Hurt my feelings? Try broke them, Nova.”

  Deflated, I see nothing of the flirty man that brought me a Neapolitan shake and a smile on the worst day of my life and restored my faith in…everything.

  I’ve broken my toy.

  He’s not a toy. That’s the way the fake bitches on Rodeo refer to their men. Shamus isn’t even close to fake. He’s given me everything. From the night I offered myself, carte blanche, he’s catered to me. Shamus treads with a light step. It’s not his way to come in with a list of demands, that’s me.