Second sets omnibus, p.61
Second Sets Omnibus, page 61
The moment we’re outside, the warm summer air smacks us in the face. I take a breath, listening to the hypnotic sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore behind River’s house. Oh, how I ache to run down the beach, exerting myself into forgetting my sins.
“Fuck,” Rad grumbles, picking up his discarded dirt bike from the middle of the road, looking it over under the streetlights shining down on us as brightly as the sun.
“Looks fucked,” Callum says, stopping beside me as Rad looks it over.
“No shit, Einstein,” Rad grumbles with a frown. “Old reliable has finally met his match,” Rad pouts, running his finger over the deep scratches in the metal. “And all it took was one little girl to bring her down. I could have squished her.” He touches the side of his face covered in brightly covered bandages and sighs.
“What the hell is going on?” Callum finally asks, shaking his head with frustration. “What was she saying about Gloria?”
“Don’t forget the restraining orders on top of that,” I grumble, rubbing my chin, still perplexed by that statement.
“That’s what she told me, too! She fucking said Gloria handed her four restraining orders,” Rad growls, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead as he lifts his bike off the ground.
“With our signatures on it,” I point out.
Callum’s gray eyes bug out of his head. “Restraining orders?” he asks, looking to Rad for confirmation. “What the hell? We didn’t do that.”
“I told you. Something fucking stinks like a dirty coochie fish on the beach.” Rad scrunches up his face, grunting when he tries to roll his dirt bike forward.
“But she-she kissed Van,” Callum’s voice dips low with accusation and hurt, shaking his head in denial. “I saw it with my own two eyes. Right after you showed us the-the video.”
My stomach churns at the thought of the video, starring River and Van from when they were together. It was my only tool at the time to convince them we needed to leave without her. I was so convinced she’d drag us down. Now, look at her. She runs the damn show. If only I’d given her the chance.
“Did she? Or did he force her to?” Rad shouts out in frustration, wheeling around and letting his bike drop again. “Because, according to her, he forced himself on her, and you just stood by and took a fucking picture,” he growls with flaring nostrils. “And then you walked away, leaving her there with him. Fuck! We all walked the fuck away because of you!” Rad barks, slamming his foot into the dented rims of his turned-over bike. Over and over again, he slams down on the metal, ruining it further. Only stopping when he’s sweaty and breathing heavily from the exertion. “Why didn’t we talk to her first?” he growls, advancing on Callum with malicious intent, curling his fingers into fists. This is one fight Rad would not win. Callum stiffens, tensing his body and waiting for impact.
“Whoa,” I say, jumping between them and putting a hand on Rad’s chest. His heart accelerates against my palm when he heaves a breath. “Fighting gets us nowhere,” I say, pushing him back a step.
“Well, I want some fucking answers!” Rad shouts through the anguish, pushing me away and nearly knocking me off my feet. “I just want to know why I left the love of my fucking life. What the hell is real?” His chest heaves beneath my palm until he steps back, shaking his head.
“We’ll figure it out.” My voice trembles as I speak, knowing the truth of the situation already. Although, there seem to be certain factors I never planned that were put into play.
“Where’d you get the videos from?” Callum asks, spearing me with his knowing gaze. I swallow hard and blow out a breath.
“Van sent them to me,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck, actively avoiding their stares.
“Out of the blue?” Callum asks again, scrunching his eyebrows.
“Yeah. Out of the blue.” I shrug, crossing my arms so they can’t see the tremble of my fingers.
“No idea what prompted it?” Callum asks again with more suspicion.
“No, man. I just assumed he wanted to rub it in my face that he was banging her behind our backs. You know how he was back then. He was fucking obsessed with her and following her around everywhere,” I huff, throwing my arms around. “I thought I was doing the right thing!” I shout, pulling at the ends of my hair. “I thought…”
I thought I really was doing what was best for us. She was a distraction. Someone they were willing to stay behind for.
Rad frowns, staring at me. “I get it, man. I guess. But looking back now, I don’t think we did the right thing.” He swallows hard, staring off at the dark house a few feet away from us, housing the girl we intentionally left behind. “We should have talked to her and heard what she had to say. Like now. But…”
“She probably won’t talk to us about it anymore,” Callum mumbles, rubbing his chin.
“I don’t think we did, either,” I sigh, biting into my bottom lip as the guilt tears another piece of my soul into the void of no return. I rub my hand across my aching chest, praying the acid doesn’t bubble up my throat as punishment.
One day soon, I’ll tell them. I just want more time with Lyric before I’m thrown to the side for my atrocious actions. But I don’t blame them. They’ll never forgive me. River will never forgive me. If I have to sit on the sidelines and watch them happy together, that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. I just need a few more happy memories to cling onto when I’m tossed to the side and forgotten about.
Callum stops, cocking his head to the side. “Did you hear that?” he asks with furrowed brows, looking into the dark shadows surrounding River’s house.
“Hear what?” Rad grunts, picking up his discarded dirt bike.
Callum’s face twists, and he shakes his head. “I thought I heard a click or tap or something.”
“All I hear is the ocean waves,” I offer, looking toward her house with a twist in my gut.
“The monsters coming for you, Cally boy?” Rad taunts, heaving his messed-up bike forward on its damaged wheels.
“Fuck off,” Cal grunts, shoving at Rad’s shoulders.
“What are we going to do about Kieran?” The three of us halt outside the open garage, listening to the silent house. All the windows appear black, hopefully meaning his grumpy ass went to bed.
“You think he knows? Like for real knows?” Callum asks, licking his lips. A deadly expression captures his face, brewing a fire behind his eyes.
Rad’s teeth grind when he throws his bike into the garage without care and growls. “I’ll fucking murder him,” he grunts, kicking the bike one more time. “If he knew…”
“Doesn’t seem like him, though.” I shake my head. “If Gloria could concoct restraining orders, then who’s to say she told him the truth?” I raise a brow when Rad and Cal exchange a look, and they sigh.
“What do we do then?” Rad asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“We don’t say anything yet. The ball is in River’s court.”
“Fine,” Rad agrees. “But if all this turns out to be bullshit, I’m reclaiming what’s mine,” he says, pointing a finger toward her dark house. “And that’s a fucking promise.” With that, Rad walks away, sauntering into the house without another word.
“What do you think?” I ask Callum, who narrows his eyes at me suspiciously.
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out.” With those foreboding words, he turns his back on me, leaving me to stew in my own fucked up mess I made, now with more complications.
The tall buildings of East Point surround me, shining in the bright morning sunlight. I squint my eyes, taking a deep breath as I psych myself up for my rendezvous with the devil herself. Who knows if I’ll make it out alive to tell the damn tale.
All around me, people bustle by, entering the high-end stores lining the area with bright smiles on their faces and exiting with an armful of bags, giggling about their purchases. Speaking of…two stores down, two brunettes dressed to the nines in expensive clothes and jewelry stop abruptly on the sidewalk with shock splayed on their faces.
“Oh, my God,” one woman squeals ten yards away. Her big eyes widen, and her jaw drops, staring at me with awe like I’m a fucking rare God standing before them. “That’s Asher Montgomery from Whispered Words!” she hisses with excitement to her friend beside her while jumping in place.
“Oh, my God! It is!” her friend shouts, promptly covering her mouth in embarrassment as high-pitched giggles escape from behind her hand. A pinkish tint takes over her cheeks as she stares in my direction with wide eyes.
“I heard they were living closer now.” The first girl says in what she thinks is a whisper, but her voice carries loudly to my ears. Quickly, I hold in the cringe, making me want to melt away from the situation.
Inwardly, I groan, loathing this evil side of fame. For one split second years ago, I adored the attention and fucking ate it up with a spoon. I fucking encouraged it with a sick grin, craving the attention of the crowds coming to see us. It took me a long time to realize that no one wanted to know the real me. They didn’t want to sit down and have an easy conversation. They wanted my fucking dick. Not conversation. Maybe a baby to claim what’s mine. The fans want the man I portray on stage with the cocky smirk and sexy swagger. They want Asher Montgomery, the guitar player of Whispered Words. And that’s a straight punch to the gut because the Asher on stage and the Asher walking the streets are two very different people.
This is all part of the gig. I know it is. But it’s fucking annoying that I can’t walk out of the house without someone approaching me for pictures and autographs. Some people—no matter their gender—offer themselves up to me on a silver platter. Years ago, I was tempted by their sexy curves and golden smiles. Tempted, being the key word. I’ve kept my dick firmly in my pants since the night I fucked River on that dining room table and came happily in her eager cunt. Believe me, that moment repeatedly sits on a high pedestal in the back of my head. Especially when the loneliness I’ve imposed on myself crushes my soul one squeeze at a time. My heart has only beat for one annoying Little Brat, even after all these years. It’ll never change. No matter how much she loathes us. My heart is hers and has been for the past few years. My guilt has sat with me for too long to settle down, let alone bone another chick.
Politely, I wave as the fans drag their phones out and snap several pictures of me standing before my self-inflicted doom. I try to plaster on a fake smile and greet them with the kindness I don’t currently feel.
“Can we take some selfies?” one girl asks, dragging her friend by the hand and stopping before me. She grins when I nod, and we take several selfies together, huddling in a tight hug. Our smiles light up the photos, despite the annoyance I feel.
“Make sure you tag me on FlashGram,” I say as she squeals again, nodding in agreement, and they walk away without another word.
I blow out a breath, swiping a hand down my face, trying to forget the dread building like a damn storm coming. Lead sits heavy in the pit of my churning stomach when I take a step forward, continuing to tell myself this is a good idea. Yeah, a really good fucking idea to come here. I hang my head, peering around again and avoiding the issue at hand. A war is about to begin in the confines of this apartment building.
There’s absolutely nothing cheerful about the situation I’m walking into. My stomach turns as I walk through the belly of the beast, waving hello to the front desk clerk, and then enter the large elevator. When I hit the top floor button, my fingers tremble from the uncontainable anger rising through my body.
As the elevator whirrs to life, my mind drifts to River’s statements about the restraining orders and abortion check she tore to pieces. Oh, how I wish I were a fly on the wall when River told Gloria to fuck off.
The more I think about the shit Gloria pulled, the more my rage consumes me. Sure, I played an equal part in River’s demise, but I never barred her from speaking to us permanently. I never told her to get rid of our kid. I just…did something almost equally as wrong. I grip my hair at the mounting frustration and heave a breath.
“Get a hold of yourself,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut. “Fuck,” I grunt, lightly tapping my forehead against the mirrored wall.
As the doors slowly slide open, I step out into the luxurious hallway illuminated by the sun leaking through the tall windows. Opulence decorates every inch of the space. From the beautiful chandelier to the gorgeous paintings lining the walls to the expensive luxury apartment I’m about to walk into—number forty-seven—on the top floor of the largest, most expensive apartment complex in East Point. Only the best for dear old Gloria—she can’t seem to hold down a job or take care of her child. Since my father met his fate and got carted off to prison, Kieran’s mother has been our problem. Five years of hell in her presence, why not another minute?
I raise a hesitant fist to the inconspicuous white door, halting mid-knock. Do I really want to look into the eyes of the woman who ruined my life without a second thought? No. I’d rather avoid Gloria as I’ve successfully done for years. Our only interactions are at Christmas when we return to see Camilla and dote on her as she deserves. But Fuck. This is something unavoidable. It’s the only way I’ll get to the bottom of everything, and then I can start repairing it one piece at a time.
Annoyance rises inside me as I pound my fist into the door with much more force than necessary, gleefully watching the hinges shake. On the other side, tiny footfalls flitter through the air, and the door swings open, revealing Gloria still in her red silk pajamas and glazed-over eyes.
“Asher, what brings you here?” Gloria’s face scrunches as her eyes rake up and down my body with a disapproving frown. “I wasn’t expecting you today.” Gloria tilts her head, and a look of concern crosses her twisted-up face.
“We need to talk,” I demand, pushing into her apartment and whirling around. I cross my arms over my chest, glaring in her direction as she softly closes the door.
“Talk? Sure, why don’t you just come on in,” Gloria snaps, furiously storming toward the large kitchen. “Could I interest you in a drink, Asher?”
I run a hand down my face in exasperation and nod. “Sure, a drink would be nice.” And make it fucking stiff—is what I want to say, but I hold my tongue as she flitters into the kitchen, humming angrily about uninvited guests.
“So, what brings you to my neighborhood? I barely see you boys, and we live in the same damn town,” she says with disdain, entering the elegant living room with two coffee cups. I raise a brow, noting the steam wafting from one cup as she gently hands it to me, and the familiar smell of coffee hits my senses, perking me up. Sitting beside me, she cocks her head to the side. “How’s the band going? Any new tours ahead of you?” She sniffs her cup with satisfaction and takes a gulp, only slightly grimacing when she pulls back.
Of course, she wants to know about any new tours to line her own damn pockets. She’s been bleeding Kieran dry since he’s struck it rich, and she loves her walking, talking, piggy bank.
“So, have you heard from my father?” I know the answer as soon as it leaves my lips. Gloria scoffs, taking a sip of her drink, gearing up to defend herself for her actions. But fuck that, I let my tongue take the lead—consequences be damned. “That’s right, you don’t really talk to him after you sent his ass to federal prison, do you?” Not that I fucking care his ass is in prison. I’m glad he’s behind bars where he can’t hurt another soul on the outside. He’s where he belongs, and now, we can protect ourselves and Cami from his wrath.
She blinks several times, and I know I’ve hit the mark on the head. “Well, I had to do what I had to do,” she retorts quickly without missing a beat. “What was I supposed to do when the FBI showed up on my doorstep with evidence? Turn them away? Go to prison with him? I think not.” She sniffs haughty, sticking her nose in the air. “I turned him in like he deserved. It was a win-win for all of us.”
“It might have been a good place for you,” I mutter under my breath, earning a death glare. Perhaps she’s not too drunk yet and still has her wits about her. I need to hold my damn tongue until I can get more information out of her.
“You’ll do well to remember who helped bring you to where you are now. If it wasn’t for my contribution and the car I allowed you to take, you’d be no one,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and lifting her chin. “If it wasn’t for me, then you’d be in prison yourself, and I’d still be stuck in that loathsome little city. This is where we belong, Asher. You’ll do good to remember what we deserve.” What we deserve? Is the alcohol making her dumber as we speak? What the hell kind of high horse shit is she on? “So, who cares if your father is spending the rest of his life in prison for embezzling everything? I sure don’t.”
“Of course, you fucking don’t.” I grind out. “Nothing has changed for you. We still pay your way.” Because of our little sister Cami and that’s it.
“If you’re going to continue to insult me, then I’m going to insist you leave. Is this really what you wanted to talk about?” she growls as multiple veins pop in her forehead and her face flushes.
“No, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Since we’re bringing up the past, let’s have a little discussion.”
“Oh?” she questions with a frown, probably seeing her future being ripped away.
“Yeah, Whispered Words is officially on probation. Apparently, our sales have been down, and now they’re trying to fix us, or we’re fired.” I blink a few times as her expression falls, and deep worry takes over her sadistic eyes, which widen in horror at our new reality.
“What do you mean your sales are down?” she snarls in my direction, acting like it’s all my fault we aren’t performing well.
She wouldn’t be wrong, though. We’ve sucked it up this past year, unable to mesh any fucking more. It was only a matter of time before someone pulled the plug. At least this way, we’re getting a second chance. Her body sits rigidly next to me, fury blazing through her veins.
