Rock Star, Unbroken

by Shade, S. M.

  The last thought that runs through my mind before I drift off is that this is what I’ll remember. This is what will come to mind when I think of Axton. Not the sex.

  Music playing in the dark.

  * * *

  A constant buzz is becoming an annoyance. What is that and why won’t it stop? A wave of nausea washes over me as the soft surface below me dips then bounces back.

  “Yeah.” Axton’s gravelly voice says. “I’m fine. Was asleep.” A pause is followed by. “She’s still…in her room. Yeah, okay. See you in a few hours.”

  My body aches, bringing the events of the night before back to me. Oh god. We got drunk and he fucked me half to death. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know what to say or do. Steeling myself for whatever his response is going to be, I drag my eyes open and sit up. Damn, we kind of trashed the living room. The coffee table is sitting sideways, and our clothes litter the floor and furniture.

  I’m glad we didn’t have a security guard inside last night, but I’ll bet the outside guard got an earful.

  “Be careful. There’s glass on the other side of the table.”

  “Okay,” I croak, and cough to clear my throat.

  It’s the only words we exchange before he walks away. The door to his room clicks shut, and I run a hand through my messy hair. My head hurts too bad to try to sort out all that’s wrong with this situation. First things first, get my naked ass off the couch.

  With the blanket wrapped around me, I grab a bottle of water, then retreat to my room. The hot water from the shower does little to soothe the pain in my muscles. The deeper ache between my legs isn’t going to go away anytime soon, not after the way we went at it last night.

  It was impossible to tell how he felt about it. Does he think I took advantage?

  Did I?

  It wasn’t my intention. Once he started kissing me, I couldn’t resist. The way we just…click together is so hard to fight against.

  Despite the urge to hide in my room, I venture out for some coffee and something to eat, hoping it’ll quell this headache before Dani brings Caden home. The living room has already been cleaned up, and Axton leans against the kitchen counter, a travel cup of coffee in his hand. An awkward silence slides between us as I make myself some oatmeal. When I sit at the table with my food, he looks at me.

  “I pulled out, but I think a morning after pill would be a good idea.”

  Oh shit. Of course, that’s what he’s worried about. If I had half a brain I’d be thinking about all the STDs I could’ve acquired last night since we didn’t use a condom. His worries are about as unfounded as they can get.

  “I’ll take one if it sets your mind at ease, but it isn’t necessary.”

  “You’re on birth control?”

  “I’m sterile.”

  Chapter Nine

  Axton

  Naomi’s eyes drop back to the table after her words nearly knock me over. Sterile. She can’t have children. It explains so much, why she was so attached to Caden, why family is so important to her. Because she can’t produce one of her own. The night that I had to call the doctor because she was bleeding so heavily leaps into my mind.

  “It’s a complication of severe endometriosis. There’s too much scar tissue. But I understand if you don’t want to take my word on it. If you want me to take a pill, it won’t hurt.” The anguish on her face as she explains leaves me with no doubt she’s telling the truth.

  “I guess I should probably get an STD screening,” she adds.

  Fair assumption. “I’m not infected with anything. I get tested a few times a year and I haven’t fucked…” She glances up when I pause. It’s not exactly information I planned to share with her, but to hell with it. “I haven’t been with anyone else since the first time we fucked.”

  “Okay.”

  “It can’t happen again, Naomi. We can’t.”

  “I know.” Her voice is even, but she keeps her gaze averted.

  I need to get out of here. “Dani is bringing Caden in about an hour,” I remind her, then walk away.

  Last night was a mistake but it wasn’t her fault. I knew what I was doing. I should be able to control myself. Things were finally smoothing out between us. We were maintaining the whole employer and employee relationship.

  That’s blown right to hell. It would be convenient to blame the alcohol, but not true, not really. It was just her. Sitting beside me, trying to comfort me with the kindness she has always shown, even after everything that’s happened. All the cruel things I said to her, the horrible way I treated her, and still she didn’t hesitate to try to be there for me.

  Dad’s death has brought back a lot of shit. The cabin he used to take us to before Mom left belongs to us now, and I haven’t been there in years. It was one of my favorite places as a kid, but it’s been so long that the place has faded a bit in my memory. Before Dani sells it, I need to visit.

  Instead of taking my car, I borrow an SUV with reflective windows from security. This is something I want to do alone, not with a guard, and the paparazzi won’t be able to tell it’s me. They’re used to the SUV’s coming and going with the shift changes by now.

  The cabin is about an hour north of the city, and I’m glad to see the area is still rural. For all I knew, the cabin could’ve been surrounded by strip malls of liquor stores and check cashing places after so long.

  The town that the property lies on the outskirts of is small and dismal. Whatever industries used to support it have clearly died out. I’m amazed how easily I find the place, considering I haven’t seen it since I was six years old.

  Of course, it looks different. Twenty-two years is a long time, even for nature, and while the nearby town may have died, this place is overgrown with life. When I was a kid, the yard and fields surrounding the cabin were kept mowed and neat.

  As I get out of the SUV and walk through the high grass that’s just starting to die with the season, long forgotten memories flash in my head, bringing their voices back to me.

  “Kick it back, dummy!” a four year old Dani giggles, as a soccer ball rolls up to bump my toe.

  “Kids! Dinner!” Mom calls, sticking her head out the door. “Wash your hands! And not with the garden hose this time!”

  The smell of the trees, the way the wind sounds as it blows through them. It’s so familiar. When was the very last time I was here? I can’t even remember. There are just these snippets. Moments of happiness where I felt free. Those weeks when I was outside all day, Dad easily forgot about me, too focused on his drinking and TV.

  A ghost of a narrow path is still visible, barely bending the grass aside. It was a dirt path made by my feet and Dani’s as we ran back and forth between the house and the swing set that’s long gone.

  “Push me higher, Ax!”

  “You’ll fall on your stupid head!”

  “No I won’t. And you have a stupid head!”

  Careful to watch for snakes and other dangers in the unkempt field, I walk to the cabin. It’s locked up, but I have a key. I made sure I had keys to both houses Dad owned when we put him in the home.

  Being out in the boonies a little, and long abandoned, I expect to find that the local teenagers have broken in and used the place to party, or that transients have camped here, but there’s no sign of that.

  Our old furniture remains. Dusty and crumbling and moldy in places, but I remember how it looked before. If you’d asked me yesterday to describe this place, I’d have remembered very little, but just the sight of the living room brought it back, and I could tell you the color of the tile in the kitchen, or where the scratches break through the wallpaper in the hall.

  When I step into the kitchen, I hear something skittering away, but I don’t see anything. Field mice probably.

  This room hurts.

  Because she’s in it. Mom is everywhere I look. Standing at the stove and smiling down at me, telling me I’d better not be bringing whatever critter I found in the woods into the house aga
in. Washing the dishes and dancing around with the radio playing. Running a beer out to Dad on the back deck when he yells for one.

  Nostalgia isn’t something I expected to feel in this place. There’s no yearning to go back to my childhood, but god, the ghosts here.

  This is where I remember her best. How many times did I sit at that table and talk to her while she cooked and cleaned? With a coloring book in front of me, insisting she look at every page I finished.

  Needy.

  Clingy.

  Never giving a thought to her or what she was going through with Dad, when I knew how she tried to protect me.

  Exploring the second level of the house is a gamble. The old wooden floors are soft under my feet, and I have to be careful where I step. Was this place this much of a dump when I was a kid? Did those childhood glasses of ignorance filter everything out?

  The room Dani and I shared has been cleaned out, leaving only a few rotted boxes, but the bed and dresser still remain in Mom and Dad’s bedroom. And the towel bar.

  How did I forget about the towel bar? The wooden bar meant for a bathroom is still screwed into the wall beside his bed, the old black razor strap still dangling from it.

  It comes flooding back to me. The screams. Mom’s, and Dani’s and mine. The bite of it across my skin. The paralyzing fear that would nail my feet to the floor when he’d pick it up.

  Rage becomes my world, and I scream. All the words I wanted to scream at him when I was too little, too defenseless, too weak, pour out of my mouth. Grabbing the battered end table closest to me, I hurl it at the bar holding the strap.

  It smashes into it, knocking the strap to the floor, and breaking one side of the bar. Seeing it dangle there just isn’t enough. Still cursing a man I can no longer get at, I throw everything I can get my hands on and finally grab the bar and yank it off the wall.

  How could he? Even if I deserved some of what I got after Mom left, how could he beat me the way he did? Having Hatch puts so much in perspective. The thought of anyone hurting him is unbearable. Trying to picture me doing it makes me want to puke.

  Tears burn down my cheeks and I’m glad I came alone. I’m not crying for him. I’m crying for them. The little boy who lived in terror, his sister and her fear, his mother who tried her best to make it all seem normal.

  When I finally pull myself together, the strap lies beside me, and I know what I need to do with it. The weight of it in my hand is horrible. On my way back out of the room, I see one thing that catches my interest, leaned against the nightstand on Mom’s side of the bed. A photo album. Without bothering to look inside, I take it with me downstairs along with the strap.

  The old burn barrel still stands out back. Rusted through in spots, but this won’t be a big fire. No danger of burning the place down, although that would probably be a good idea. Some dry leaves and pine needles tossed in the barrel with the strap flare right up under the flame of my lighter, and I stand there and watch as the strap deforms and blackens, emitting smoke that smells like burning hair.

  Some peace starts to fall over me, and I pick up the photo album. The plastic covered pages did little to protect the photos from the elements, and most are ruined beyond recognition. Out of the book, I manage to find three that may be worth saving. One shows Dani and me on the swing set. Another is Mom holding me as a baby. I look around Hatch’s age, and she’s grinning down at me. The third is a family photo. Dad stands on one end while Dani and I crowd close to Mom a few feet away.

  The distance is telling. It’s also convenient. The tearing sound that comes when I rip him out of the picture is almost as satisfying as watching his face melt in the flames.

  Gone.

  Just like him.

  I sit there, on the dilapidated step while the fire burns out, and for quite a while afterward. Something in me feels lighter, a little more free. The daylight starts to fade, and I know I should go. Night falls like a blackout curtain in the country, fast and heavy, and I should get back to Hatch.

  On the walk to my car, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. A deer stands still, looking in my direction. It’s a small doe. I remember sitting out on the porch in the evening to watch for deer. Another thing I’d forgotten. Hatch, my little animal lover, would go crazy for this.

  The thought gives me pause. I’ve been looking for a place to build a house. Somewhere rural and a bit isolated. All the joy I had as a kid came from being out on this land. Playing in the creek that runs through the woods behind the house, reveling in the freedom of nature. I could give that to Hatch. I could give him the best parts of this place. Bulldoze and bury the rest.

  Bury it under his happiness and laughter.

  * * *

  It’s been a week since the funeral, and Dani only returned home last night. Things aren’t terrible between us, but there’s a distance I haven’t felt there before. How much of it is caused by grief and how much is her resenting me for not capitulating when it came to the service, I’m not sure.

  My fuck up with Naomi hasn’t helped the atmosphere of the house either. Since that night, even with everything else on my mind, I can’t stop thinking about her. She acts more like her old self, but she’s careful to keep space between us as she cares for Caden.

  One moment I’m grateful for that, and the next infuriated that she doesn’t seem to feel the same turmoil I do when I’m around her. I’m like an addict who relapsed, and now can’t get the taste of the drug out of my mouth.

  On top of all that, the lawyer informed me that Beverly has a trial date set five months from now. What I’d give for one day that I don’t have to think about it. That I don’t have to struggle with the anger, guilt, and everything else the last year has brought down on me.

  As usual, music is my only escape, and even on the days I’m not due in the studio, I’m writing or playing. The trial is liable to postpone the tour, which pisses me off because those people are still fucking up my life. Stealing my peace.

  With all the insanity, you’d think I’d be happy not to be on tour, but I miss performing. The excitement of the crowd, the exhilaration that comes with sharing what we’ve created, the way belting out those lyrics always makes me feel afterward. Drained, but better off for it. Empty of whatever trash has been building up.

  A week later an opportunity falls into my lap.

  “Ax, I need a word,” Dani says, tapping on my music room door. She’s all business when she sits across from me. “I was reading through your emails and there’s a charity concert in Ohio next week to benefit The Institute for Missing Children. They want Tragic to perform.” She glances at me. “I know it’s last minute. I got behind on your emails and just noticed it, but Milo assured me it’s not too late to arrange things. He thinks it’s a good opportunity to debut a song from the album you’re working on. I checked with the rest of the band and they’re willing.”

  The Institute for Missing Children. There’s no mystery as to why they asked me to be a part of their fundraiser and even if I wasn’t eager to perform, I’d do it. They helped plaster Hatch’s face everywhere when he was kidnapped.

  “We’ll need a couple of days to rehearse here, then I’d like to get a rehearsal in at the venue if we’re playing new music.” She starts making notes on her phone, and I lean toward her. “Dani.”

  I’m met with a cautious look of expectation. “If you aren’t up to working right now, I can get Milo to handle everything.”

  Her gaze goes back to her phone. “No, I could use the distraction. I’m okay.”

  “Are you?”

  With a sigh, she looks up at me. “I’m getting there.”

  “Are you still pissed at me?”

  The corner of her mouth tucks in and she shakes her head. “You’re hard to stay mad at, Ax. It’s always been infuriating. Even when you burnt my favorite doll.”

  A reluctant grin lands on her face when I chuckle. “First of all, I was six. Second, you cut the hair on that doll and it looked like a witch.”
>
  “So, you had to burn the witch?”

  “Sort of. Mom had just read us Hansel and Gretel where they push the witch in the oven.”

  Her laugh rings out, bringing a smile to my face. “For fuck’s sake, Ax. How did I not know that before?”

  “You were too busy being mad over the witch’s demise.”

  “It melted to the bottom of the oven and smoked up the whole house. I can still remember the smell,” she laughs. Her expression shifts to a frown, and I know she’s remembering what happened next. Dad assumed she was the one who did it and she was so afraid when he started toward her. In half a second, I stepped between them and confessed. The strap made a visit that night. “You always protected me,” she murmurs.

  “Always will, Brat. That’s just how it is.” She nods and I add, “The cabin was bulldozed a couple of days ago. I met with the designer and builders. They’ll be getting started this week. I also transferred the value of the property into your checking account.”

  The only real conversation we’ve had since Dad’s death was about the property and what I want to do with it.

  “Ax! I told you I didn’t want anything for it!” She gets to her feet and stares down at me, arms crossed.

  “I know, but Dad left it to you. I wasn’t just going to take it, especially since you don’t want to move with us.”

  “I’m still going to be your assistant and travel with you, but I need my own life outside of that.”

  “I’m not arguing with you.”

  “That’ll be the day,” she scoffs. “Alright, I’m going to contact Milo and get things rolling. Do you want to fly or get the bus?”

  The bus I had specifically outfitted for our festival tour is being stored by management until it’s needed again. I don’t want to deal with airports, especially with Hatch, and there’s no way I’m going to be a state away from him.

  “The bus. But I want to get there a day early for some rehearsal time.”