“Save it,” he snaps. “You almost killed yourself because of what your mother did.”
“Grandma shouldn’t have told you—"
“Helen did what she thought was necessary for me to agree—"
“So you didn’t want me either?” The question sounds so pathetic, but I can’t help it.
He tightens his hold on me. “You’re here because I want you. I’m your friend. And friends help one another. I’m here with you because this is where you want to be.”
I think of the condoms. “Please don’t bring other girls here, Sloane. I can’t…I know…I know when you go back on tour…” I can’t finish my sentence. He’s going to be with other girls then and I’ll have to accept it. Somehow. I scramble to my feet. “Don’t have other women here.”
Anger rises in his eyes and the muscle in his jaw ticks. Immediately, I know the wall that was between us earlier is firmly back in place. He plops me next to him. Instead of answering, he stalks to the door I didn’t realize he’d closed and holds it open. “Get out.”
“Sloane—"
“Get the fuck out. Now, Georgiana. Go to your goddamn room and stay there until I summon you.”
Sucking in a breath, my entire body deflates as if a pin has been stuck into me. A new defeat burrows into me. As soon as I reach my room, I’m going to cry. Even now, my lips tremble.
“Fuck.” Sloane slams a fist against the door. The solid wood doesn’t crack. I wince at the pain he’ll feel, later rather than now.
I rush past him but a hand on my shoulder halts me right outside his door.
“No women for me for the duration of our time here, Georgie,” he relents, ice dripping from his voice. He pushes me away and slams his door shut.
A small smile breaks free, though I sniffle. This victory was hard won, but so very sweet.
Sloane
In my life, I’ve never felt closer to another human being than I do to Georgie. If you ask her, she’ll swear the opposite is true. It’s been two days since I found her in my room. Two days since I returned a minute moral fiber that kept me from burying myself inside of her.
Two days since I agreed not to have other women here.
In many regards, her questions were overdue. She needed to hear from me that I was with her because of her, not because of her parents. My connection to Kiln, Steffie, and Jaeger had to be discussed, too. Her life has been too wild to address any of these issues before now. I understand this and I’m glad it’s out in the open.
The memory of her soft, little fingers on my arm as a gesture of comfort melts more of my resistance. Except…it seems as if I’m punishing her because now I keep my words to the bare minimum.
She’s at the table, picking over the shrimp salad that Kiln bought at a local market. I’ve already eaten, so I sit on the sofa, as if I’m her warden, flicking through channels on the TV.
My vivid imagination inflames my senses. I honestly believe I smell the vanilla I always associate with her. Notes of it are in her perfume and hair products. I’m glad these items were amongst the few possessions that had been sent to me before we left Houston.
Her chair slides across the floor and my hearing perks. I’m like a dog behind her. If she’s involved, my ears are tuned to a higher and lower frequency than any other time. Like a canine.
Her bare feet hit against the tiles in the kitchen, a hit-or-miss sticky slap. On the wood floor of the living room, where Kiln and I sit, she’s silent. Kiln gives her the once over, then returns to the TV, hands behind his head. He’s fat-ratting it, a happy motherfucker with heavily lined pockets to babysit me, Georgie, her pussy, and my dick.
I wait for Helen’s call as much as I dread it. Once she demands I send Georgie home, I’m out of her life.
That should be a good thing, but it isn’t.
Flipping another channel, my image flashes across the screen and draws my attention. I raise the volume in time to hear…”Sources close to the Phoenix Rising camp aren’t confirming the rumors, but as another concert is cancelled, fans suspect Sloane Mason is back in rehab. The other members of the band have been spotted in Florida, but the front man’s whereabouts are unknown. The question, now, is will he be allowed back into the band he founded, once his latest mistake is taken care of…”
For a moment, my hand is frozen on the fucking remote. I’m not exactly shocked by these reports, but it makes the possibility of my ouster from my band real. Resentment spikes in me and I slam my thumb against the ‘off’ button.
Strands of Georgie’s hair flutter in my line of vision, but I smell her, too. That vanilla. Her arousal. The peppermint gum she pulls from her pocket and unwraps. I even smell the acrylic nail polish of her freshly done toes.
She kneels in front of me. “Are you in trouble?”
Fuck, yeah. But not because of that fucked up report. My trouble stems from her.
Her care and concern is unbearable. This is wrong. My building need for her. She’s who I think of when I open my eyes at whatever time and close them hours later.
Wrong. So wrong.
It’s also impossible. Therefore, instead of responding to her questions, her softness, I get to my feet and bark, “fuck the paps,” before stalking out.
Chapter Fifteen
Georgie
Wake up. Dress. Sit. Eat. Read. Go. Run. Bathe. Sleep.
Sloane has forgotten how to say any other words to me except those ten. For the five days since our encounter in his room, he hasn’t shown me a bit of kindness or a spark of desire. I understand Kiln’s with us, so Sloane can’t broadcast any intimacy unless we’re alone, but even when we are by ourselves, he tunes me out.
Two additional times I attempt to offer him comfort, as headlines spread inaccurate rumors about the reasons for the band’s cancelled tour dates. He rebuffs me at every turn with the same brusque, “fuck the paps.”
My wrists are healed, though scarred forever, so he no longer has a reason to touch me and check my bandages. Not as of this morning, when he removed the last one. Now, it’s almost dinner time and I stand at the window, glancing out at the tall trees and the partial view of the Back Bay. Before the storm in 2005, the house predated the Civil War. Now, the wooden floors, painted walls, and modern décor are new, rebuilding and remodeling finally completed three years ago.
Any other time I wouldn’t give a rat’s fuck about any of that. But boredom compelled me to read the history of the house, which I found it on a bookshelf. It reminds me of an oversized diary. Someone really loves this place.
So utterly alone, I lean my head against the window pane, not even the picturesque scenery calming me. 16. The number buzzes through my mind.
I can’t escape my age. But I’m not a normal sixteen-year-old. Girls—and boys—my age bore me. I don’t know why, although, now, at this moment, I think of how my life would be if I were with friends. That’s where I should be. Shouldn’t I? Maybe, at McDonald’s. Or a movie. Or just hanging out.
Adoring Sloane from afar.
That’s what I’ve been relegated to doing anyway. He’s right within my reach but so far away. This is worse than I imagine rehab or boot camp. Or Grandma.
Tears spike my lashes and I sniffle, swiping at my eyes. What’s normal for others isn’t for me, so I shouldn’t try to make myself fit in. Or regret not attempting to do so.
I just followed the example set by my mom. She never had friends. She had acquaintances and associates. Mostly, she had brownnosers. It always frightened me that I’d treat girls the same way, so I either hung with her or Josh. They had time for me then, though, even indulging my obsession with Sloane.
“Georgiana?”
I startle at the sound of him rasping my name, but I refuse to respond, so I flounce to my bed and flop on it.
“Time to eat.”
He’s closer. Without permission, he opens my door and searches for me. His blue gaze eats me up before emptying again. “Eat.”
“I don’t have anything to fuc
king eat.” Smart ass. I blink at the ceiling and swipe at my escaping tears. Although I’m a virtual prisoner, they haven’t locked me in and for that I’m grateful.
“Get your ass to the dining room now,” he snarls and takes a step towards me.
Throwing my pillow at him, I shoot to my feet and stomp past him.
Kiln’s already seated and each place setting has a steaming plate of food. Country fried steak and gravy with mashed potatoes and sweet peas. They have highball glasses filled with an amber liquid—scotch, more than likely—while I have water.
Laying my cloth napkin in my lap, I mix the gravy and potatoes. Instead of ignoring each other, Sloane and Kiln are having a stilted conversation. They’re speaking low. Naturally, my ears perk up. It’s hard to pretend I’m not eavesdropping, but I take small swallows in a show of cooperation and listen carefully.
“They are a nice couple,” Kiln says without emotion.
Emotionless jackasses are running rampant in this house.
“And the tutor?”
Tutor? A sinking despair and a sneaking suspicion bloom inside of me.
“Nothing yet. Mr. and Mrs. Lester will find someone suitable, if we haven’t, before we depart, so the band can resume the tour.”
“That isn’t good enough.”
“Fuck, Sloane. You’ve done all you can fucking do. It’s time to make fucking money again.”
“Yes, bleed me dry. Fuck everything else, especially her.”
“You can’t fucking take her with us. How the fuck can you explain that?”
Apparently, no way, because silence descends in the room. My appetite flees, but I get enough food into me where Sloane allows me to leave the table. Running to my room, I slam my door, then tear through my things. Some are mine from home and others are new. But I don’t have my cell phone or my iPad or anything linked to the outside world.
Sobbing, I throw myself on the bed and it’s hours before I fall asleep.
“Good morning, Georgiana.”
Sloane’s hard voice seeps through my lethargic brain and I open my eyes.
I want Crowell. More to the point, I want blow. No. I need blow. Anything to get me through my terminal boredom and perpetual insignificance. It’s so easy for everyone to throw me away.
“Do you intend to sleep all day?”
“All day?” I repeat. Fuck him. “It’s only about nine o’clock.” Not that I’m certain and he’s blocking the view of the wall clock.
“No. It’s near noon,” Sloane grumbles. “Nine was three hours ago. The time you should’ve gotten up.”
“To listen to your militaristic orders, dickhead? There’s nothing more to do here than to eat and sleep.”
His body is so taut I’m afraid each of his tendons will snap. He grinds his back molars and clenches his fists. “I’m leaving soon, so get up. I haven’t eaten yet, so I’ll join you at the table in fifteen minutes.”
“When are you coming back?” I whisper, drawing in deep breaths to calm myself. My insides are shaky. I might throw up because I know his answer already.
He has no intentions of returning. Ever.
Sloane
Intently studying Georgie, I draw in a breath. My impending departure is fucking hard enough without the hurt and accusation blooming in her eyes. For the billionth time, I shove her age to the front of my brain. She’s young. Her body’s young. But her mind…her mind…is confused. Sad. Perhaps, even old, and a complete contradiction to her alluring curves.
I close the door, then sit on the edge of her bed. Do I want her mind to be mature because of how badly I want to fuck her?
I shy away from the answer.
Georgie looks healthier, but, most of all, she’s been drug-less for nearly two weeks now. It’ll be easier for Helen to direct her with the discipline I’ve begun, so she’ll still be free to put Cassandra back together, my secrets will be safe, and we can all move on.
Although I haven’t worked on Georgie’s foul language, I’ve set her on the path for the most important things. The call from Helen that should’ve happened by now hasn’t, so I placed a call to her and worked out an agreement. I have to get back to the tour, so I’ve decided to leave Georgie in Ocean Springs when my tour ends. I could just as easily send her back to Houston, but that means letting her go forever.
“Why don’t you and Kiln like each other?”
Where did that come from? Though Kiln and I make no secret about our feelings for one another, she’s very observant.
“My feelings for Kiln shouldn’t concern you. For the sake of the band, we tolerate each other.”
“He isn’t even in the band.”
“What he does for now is what I need.”
“But I’m not?” she asks hoarsely, very adept at changing the goddamn subject to suit her needs.
The very reason I limit conversation with her.
No, she isn’t what I need, but she’s fucking what I want. I don’t have any more time for her bullshit. Especially since my cock can’t tell bullshit from horse shit. Fucking brainless maniac. However, if I don’t leave soon, Georgie will be, too, because I’ll fuck her senseless.
“I have to go.”
“Of course you do.” She sighs. “If I ask to leave, will you let me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because…I don’t know why…but I want to help you.”
“Maybe, I like being addicted to stuff.”
“I don’t believe you. Being addicted to anything isn’t being true to who you really are.” A thought to remember.
“Are you true to yourself?”
“For the most part. Yes.”
She cocks her head. “How do you know?”
“I fight every day to do better.” Mostly in regards to her. “Now that I know better. Knowing better, maybe, I really can become better.”
She gazes at the ceiling and then at me again, considering my words. “Are you saying that’s what you want from me?”
“You should want that for yourself.”
“And you’ll help me? Do you care that much for me?”
I don’t quite know how to answer her. Of course, I care about her enough to help her. I’m already doing it, aren’t I?
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “Georgiana, I want to know you’re all right.” The real reason I’m keeping her here until the end of my tour. I’ll be assured of her safety, so I’ll have peace of mind and can focus on my tour. “Whatever feelings I have beyond your safety is taboo, so it’s imperative we stay in our respective lanes.”
She lowers her head. “Which means you’ll be fucking other girls.”
“Women,” I correct through clenched teeth. “And, yeah. As many as I can get my dick into. I’m not amending who I fuck one more time to your sensibilities.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, she raises her head. The look in her eyes tears at my soul. But I meant my statement to cut her deeply, not knowing how else to impress upon her that her age is a fucking hindrance. A relationship between us would be too toxic.
I have to leave. Now. I’m glad we had this talk though. When the fog she existed in finally lifts, she’ll be nothing short of awesome.
She needs to reclaim her self-worth, though, and not rely on me, but depend on herself, for herself, without me and my dick lurking too fucking close. After our closeness in Houston, I recognize how much my surly attitude has hurt her.
I need to put distance between us. I have too much garbage that would wear her down.
I’ll cherish our stolen moments when I tasted her pussy. Today, though, was just…conversation. Not pure, but…innocent.
Chapter Sixteen
Sloane
I’m every bit the dickhead that Georgie accuses me of being. Despite my noble intentions, I couldn’t walk away. Leaving her sobbing in her room, Kiln and I ate in silence, then we all had a conference call to make sure everything was set to resume in four days.
To my surprise, the guys rema
in in Florida, enjoying pussy and sun. Uninspired to join them, I met Mr. and Mrs. Lester and told them to expect to report in two days.
Now, I sit in the living room, drink in hand when Georgie begins to scream. I beat Kiln to her room by a fraction of a second, but he brushes past me, gun drawn. We never know when a crazed fan will find me.
“Stay fucking back, Sloane,” he demands.
“Fuck you.” I get to Georgie who’s thrashing on her bed. Between her screams, she’s making unintelligible noises.
While Kiln searches her closet and bathroom, I take her into my arms. It’s clear her screams are from a nightmare, but he’s protecting his interests and doing his job.
“Georgie, wake up,” I tell her, holding her tight and kissing her sweaty temple.
She clutches me and settles slightly, drawing in a shuddering breath.
“I’m here,” I assure her.
Nodding, she lays her head against me.
“Let me get something to relax her,” Kiln grumbles.
“If you put one fucking drug in Georgie’s system, I’ll choke you with my dick,” I snarl. Unlike the time I agreed to give her the sleeping pill after my concert, she hasn’t used. She’s just upset. Nothing I can’t personally handle. “And then gut you.”
He bares his teeth, but stays quiet.
“Get out,” I finish.
After he slams the door behind him and she whispers my name, I forget he exists.
Her watery-eyed plea is more than I can take, so I kiss her. She’s soft and sweet, everything I remember. Our fingers thread through each other’s hair and we groan as she scoots closer to me, opening her mouth wider.
Unable to resist, I lay her back and cover her body with mine, pressing my hard dick against her pussy. I haven’t changed out of my jeans and T-shirt. I’m both happy and regretful of my clothes between us. The thin little shorts she’s wearing do nothing. Had I been in pajama bottoms, I doubt I’d keep my dick out of her.
Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series Page 22