Clash

by Belle Aurora

  StarLover003: I don’t know. This looks set up. You guys can’t possibly be that cute.

  CherryUVVOfficial: They really are. I know. It’s fucking sickening.

  PearlUVVOfficial: God, you guys are goofballs.

  BethUVVOfficial: I love this. Sing it, Clash!

  OutForBlood23: ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to post it.’ HAHAHAHA. I’m deceased!

  LeeVegasOfficial: Beth… How you doing, sweetness?

  BethUVVOfficial: New number. Who dis?

  CherryUVVOfficial: Beth… DYING!!!!!!!!!

  LeeVegasOfficial: Ouch.

  EttieUVVOfficial: I ship this SO much! I miss you guys!!!!

  HellNovakOfficial: Cherry, baby, when are you going to give it up and go out with me?

  CherryUVVOfficial: New number. Who dis?

  BethUVVOfficial: BAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Perfect World.

  Emmy

  It was a Sunday. Connor and I had been living together for a couple of weeks and things were good. Actually, they were kind of great. We were happy, we were in love and we were intimate every chance we got. Not only physically but emotionally. It didn’t have to be about sex and a lot of the times, it wasn’t.

  It was sitting entwined on the sofa while watching the cooking network and mumbling out, “Yummeh,” whenever a particular dish caught our eye.

  It was peeking into his in-house studio to smile as he worked on his music. Every time he scolded himself on messing up, I had to cover my mouth with my hands and sneak away so he wouldn’t hear me laughing.

  It was holding hands as we drove almost anywhere and everywhere.

  We simply couldn’t get enough of each other.

  I wondered if it was a passing fancy. I seriously hoped not. And as we snuck out for a quick bite to eat, Connor drove with his knees as he bit into his hotdog then garbled, “Jesus Christ, I know it’s like ninety percent pig snouts and pigeon meat but I fucking love hot dogs.”

  I nibbled on my own but stopped when what he said registered. “Ew.”

  He grinned then blindly reached out for me. “Gimme a kiss.”

  My face bunched. “There’s mustard on your dog.”

  Connor looked over at me before turning his eyes back onto the road. “So?”

  “I hate mustard,” I uttered matter-of-factly.

  “What?” he gasped, clearly outraged. “Baby,” he started and by God he was serious. “Mustard is life.”

  “It really isn’t.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Okay,” he began, “So, what do you put on a ham sub?”

  I shrugged. “Mayo.”

  “Mayo?” he said then repeated it. “Mayo,” only this time he said it quietly, disgusted, and when he looked over at me, his face screamed ‘revulsion’. “What kind of monster are you, Emmy?”

  Smirking, I nibbled on my hot dog. “The one you married.”

  He let out a slow and confused, “Mayo.” He then turned to me, frowning and shaking his head, and I couldn’t contain my chuckle. When his hand struck out and caught my wrist, he pulled me toward him. “Kiss me.”

  My chuckle transformed into a snigger as I tried to pull away from him. “No. You have mustard breath.”

  “If you really love me, you’ll accept all of me, Emily.” His lips pulled up. “C’mon, baby. Give me that mouth.”

  “No.” My entire body shook as I attempted to contain my hysterical laughter.

  “You’re gonna kiss me and you’re gonna like it. Stop fighting me,” Connor and I tussled playfully as he slowed to stop at a red light, and when he leaned into me, I put my hand to his face, laughing silently as he fought to push through and reach my lips.

  “Stop it,” I tittered, only half meaning it. “Watch the road.”

  “I am watching the road,” he promised as we continued our lighthearted struggle.

  Then…

  Thud.

  We both stilled.

  And playtime was officially over.

  “Uh oh,” Connor muttered, wide-eyed.

  “Connor,” my mouth rounded. “Did you just hit that car?”

  “Uh…” when the car in front of us indicated and began to move to the side of the road, Connor sounded as surprised as I was, “Yeah. I think I did.”

  Oh my God.

  I’d never been involved in a car accident before.

  Yet another first experienced with Connor Clash.

  Luckily, it was fairly low impact. Our car had basically creeped into theirs but still… it was our fault.

  My stomach knotted and when Connor moved to pull up behind the car with the busted tail light thanks to us, my palms began to sweat. “What do we do?”

  At the look of horror on my face, Connor remained straight-faced. “Well, I have a gun in the back seat.” He let out a regretful sigh then turned to me and nodded lightly. “We’re going to have to kill them.” My brows hit my hairline and Connor chuckled. “Emmy, relax.” His grin told me I was being ridiculous. “We’re just going to exchange insurance details. That’s all.”

  We pulled in behind the sensible sedan and when a young man stepped out, he was clearly upset, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. He walked to the back of his car and bent over, touching the bumper and assessing the damage.

  “Here. Hold this,” Connor said as he handed me his half-eaten hot dog. I took it, looking down at it in disgust and then watched as my handsome rock star approached the man. I wasn’t nosey by nature but this was a new experience and because of that, I wanted to know how these things usually went. So, I slowly wound down the passenger window so I could listen in.

  Connor spoke first. “Hey, man, I’m really sorry. I was distracted. I’ll tell my insurance company it was completely my fault.”

  The man kept surveying the damage. “It doesn’t look too bad but… shit,” he shook his head. “My mom’s sick, dude.” He straightened and turned while speaking, “I can’t afford to be without my car, even for a day.” And when his gaze landed on Connor, he did a double take before his eyes widened and he realized exactly who it was who had hit him. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Oh my God.”

  Connor sighed in understanding. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He scratched at his chin. “Is it bad?”

  The man didn’t respond. He just stood there a long while, unblinking, before he uttered a confused, “Huh?”

  “Your mom?” Connor prompted, completely oblivious to the fact that this man was having a small aneurism. “Is it bad?”

  That seemed to snap the guy out of his stupor. “Uh, yeah. Cancer,” he shrugged.

  Connor sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Shoot, man. That fucking sucks.” He thought a moment before adding, “Tell you what, why don’t you give me your details and I’ll work on something that won’t put you out.” Sliding his hands into pockets, he clicked his tongue as he continued to think out loud. “I’ll figure something out. I’m not gonna leave you in the lurch.”

  The man seemed stunned. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Yeah, my man,” Connor chuckled mildly. “I do.”

  Suddenly, the guy’s shoulders dropped. “No, really. It’s actually not a big deal.” His arm swung out to the back of the car. “All the damage is superficial and the car isn’t even that great. I was looking at getting a new one anyway.” He forced a small smile. “We’re good.”

  Connor watched the man closely for a second. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” the young man said firmly.

  That was when I slid out of the car. As I approached, the man gasped then let out a loud barking laugh. “Holy shit.” He chuckled to himself before getting out, “You’re the Violet Dame.” He raised his head heavenward then murmured, “This can’t be happening. Unbelievable.”

  The show of admiration made me automatically uncomfortable and to counter
it, I came forward and gently placed my hand on his upper arm, my face apologetic. In a tone that was one hundred percent pre-Left Turn Emily, I asked a quietly unsure, “Are you okay?”

  The man looked down at my hand before absolutely beaming. “Yes,” he laughed quietly, almost disbelievingly. “I’m good. Honestly.”

  “I’m glad.” Relieved, I swallowed hard, my tongue feeling like sandpaper against the top of my mouth. “That was my very first car accident.” I forced out a humorless laugh. “I’m a little shaken up.”

  Connor was by my side in a second. “Baby.” His arm was around me and he tried not to laugh. “That wasn’t a car accident. That was a barely a fender-bender. It was a love tap.”

  I lifted my head to look at him and glared hard, attempting to shrug him off. “It was terrifying.”

  At that, Connor began to laugh openly. “Oh, please.”

  My elbow connected with his stomach and he grunted as I berated him. “What did I say? ‘Stop shoving your mustard breath in my face, Connor.’ ‘I’m not going to kiss you, Connor.’ ‘Stop it, Connor.’ ‘Watch the road, Connor.’”

  Connor just grinned before nudging the young man. “Isn’t she something?”

  The guy looked between us, a crease marring his brow. A slow smile spread across his face before he uttered, “Wow. You guys really aren’t faking it, are you?”

  Neither I nor Connor said a thing. We didn’t need to justify our relationship to anyone. We were who we were and we weren’t feigning a damn thing.

  Yes. We genuinely adored each other. So, sue us.

  “Look, man,” said Connor. “I’m going to need your details anyway. I’ve got to report this to my insurance company, even if you don’t want to fix it.”

  Without question, the young man nodded. “Sure.”

  After he’d written down his name, license number, address and phone number, he handed it to Connor and Connor took his hand in a firm handshake. “Good luck,” he looked down at his details, “—Jacob.” His smile was small. “I hope things look up for you and your family.”

  They released hands and Jacob spoke but he hesitated. “Would you—” He quickly shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it.”

  It was me who asked, “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing,” Jacob rolled his eyes. “I was going to ask for a photo but I feel… I don’t know… rude or something.”

  “Where’s your phone?” I enquired.

  Jacob’s smile gleamed.

  The moment Connor and I got back into the car and buckled up, I spoke quietly, “We’re buying him a new car.”

  Connor didn’t even hesitate. Equally low, he responded, “Fuck yeah, we are.”

  Reaching over the center console, our fingers entwined and when Connor returned my small smile, my chest ached a little less than it had a minute ago.

  Later that week, Connor was making a solo appearance on a late-night talk show. Originally, he declined the offer but after speaking to the guys about it, it was actually Noah who talked him into accepting.

  It was time to clear the air about a lot of things, namely Connor’s battle with addiction.

  My girls had been on a short hiatus as they made plans for their third album. With Amber doing all the important stuff, I was free to tag along to the interview. On the way to the studio, I couldn’t help but notice his knee jumping as he drove. He was jittery and irritable, and I needed to figure out why.

  “You okay?” I asked carefully.

  Quite suddenly, he barked, “I fucking hate these things,” then lifted his thumb to his mouth, biting at the nail.

  My gut sank. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. “Is it too late to cancel?”

  “Yeah,” He laughed sharply. “It is.”

  Okay then.

  I guess it was better if I just kept my mouth shut and let him stress in peace and quiet. Turning my face towards the passenger window, I stayed silent.

  Connor noticed.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” I twisted to face him and he glanced at me with anxious eyes before turning back to the road. “I’m nervous,” he explained. “I always seem to fuck up at these things somehow. I don’t say enough, or I say too much. Normally, I wouldn’t care. I never used to care.” He let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “But it’s different now.”

  I remained silent.

  “I owe it to Left Turn to do this.” He paused before adding, “The publicity I’ve caused over the last year… it hasn’t been good.” I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “I single-handedly damaged our brand. I have to make it right.”

  He was worrying, about his band, about his friends. That alone showed just how far Connor Clash had come from the selfish, impulsive rock star he had been all those months ago.

  He really had changed.

  My heart warmed. I was so proud of him. “You’re going to be great. Besides—” I turned back to the window, “—if you’re not, I’ll distract everyone.”

  Connor let out a short laugh. “Oh, yeah? How?”

  A light shrug. “I’ll flash my boobs or something.”

  I watched his body begin to shake in my peripheral vision. Amusement lined his voice when he uttered, “What did I do to deserve you?”

  “Something depraved, probably,” I smiled into the night.

  At that, Connor barked out a laugh and with that the mood had lightened exponentially.

  Everything was going to be fine.

  “Our next guest is someone who can’t ever seem to keep himself off of the front page of the tabloids,” the host, Joe Reno, spoke to the audience. And Connor squeezed my hand. Hard.

  My lips thinned.

  Probably not the best or most appealing way to introduce a guest.

  But Joe Reno spoke again, this time sincerely, “But things have changed and he’s a new man.” Turning to face us, he held an arm out in our direction. “Please welcome Connor Clash.”

  The audience’s applause was deafening. Women in the crowd began to shriek.

  Connor spun to face me, his eyes wide, looking somewhat like a frightened child. I didn’t let my own anxiety show. Smiling, I placed my hands on his shoulders and smacked a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re going to be fine.”

  He nodded but I could tell he didn’t believe me. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if he’d actually heard what I’d said.

  I watched in complete fascination as Connor took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly and as he did, his entire demeanor changed. His shoulders sank, his eyes became rock star lazy and he grinned that beautiful crooked grin. It was almost alarming how well he could fake it.

  This wasn’t my Connor.

  This was their Connor. The one they loved and expected. The Connor who always got himself into trouble.

  This was the Connor Clash who wrote “Virgin Tears” and released it without a backward glance.

  And my stomach turned.

  Connor ran out the meet Joe and they spoke for a second up close. Fans continued to screech. Whatever Joe had said had Connor chuckling and shaking his head. They both took their seats and waited until the screaming stopped. Just as it did, one woman yelled out, “I love you, Connor!”

  Connor’s body shook with unconcealed mirth. He responded kindly and quietly with, “Thanks.”

  Joe Reno looked at Connor a long moment. He said nothing but his smile grew.

  Connor stared at the man, his own smile creeping wider. “What? Do I have something on my face? You’re making me nervous, Joe.”

  Joe shook his head, smile still in place. He seemed to think about what he to say next. “You look good, Connor.”

  The way he said it… the emotion in his voice… the unspoken words beneath that statement, and the way the audience suddenly broke into applause once again, had me tearing up.

  Because before Connor was mine, he belonged to them. They loved him. And they were rooting for him.

 
; The clapping and cheering went on and on and, suddenly, I was clapping too. The audience stood and Connor’s eyes closed. He gripped the arms of the chair he sat in so tightly, his knuckles turned white. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes and when he did, he revealed himself as he was.

  Full of emotion. Grateful. And scared.

  So scared.

  Joe Reno stood and leant into him, speaking quietly. Connor listened hard to what he had to say and when he was done, Connor stood and hugged the man.

  The audience loved it. Applauding and cheering even harder. And when I peeked out through glistening eyes, I was stunned to see so many of them wiping away stray tears.

  With one last slap on the back, Joe Reno and Connor separated, taking their seats and as the applause dimmed, Connor spoke without prompting. “I need to say something, Joe.” He was honest and heartfelt. “I have done a lot of things I am not proud of.” The silence that suddenly filled the studio was eerie. Connor cleared his throat before continuing, “In the past, I’ve been reckless and impulsive and really goddamn selfish.” He shuffled in his chair, his tone quiet, “I’ve hurt people. People who have supported me unconditionally. I’ve driven people away. My band mates have put up with so much,” he laughed humorlessly. “Too much.” He licked his lips. “And I just want to say sorry to anyone I’ve made feel like they were nothing.” He paused a second. “I’m working through my problems and slowly becoming a better person.”

  The knot in my stomach unraveled, and the pride I felt then…

  Unmatched.

  When the audience attempted to start another round of applause, Joe spoke over them, cutting it short. “You’re not doing this alone though, are you? You’ve had some help.”

  “Well…”

  “C’mon, Connor,” Joe poked in good humor. “We’ve all seen her. You’re everywhere together, in the papers, you and your Violet Dame.”

  More claps. A piercing wolf whistle sounded in the back.

  Connor smirked mischievously but said nothing.

  Joe tried again. “Tell us about her.”

  Realizing he wasn’t going to get away that easy, Connor straightened in his chair, wearing a far-away smile. “What can I say about her?” The long quiet made my stomach churn, especially when he lost his smile and uttered a frank, “I don’t deserve her.” Swallowing hard, he lowered his gaze and revealed quietly, “Never have. Never will.”