Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “Thanks for telling me. I have to call Josh.”

  “For?”

  “He’s coming to help out.”

  “Help out how? I don’t require help from either of you.”

  Cash laughs. “I’m sure. I heard all about Kiln’s ass-kicking from Prez.”

  “How the fuck does Outlaw know?” I demand, not interested in this peripheral bullshit. It keeps me from Georgie longer.

  “Georgie spoke to Meggie and Meggie told Prez. Women talk, brother.”

  “I don’t have time for this conversation. I have to get to my wife. I was calling to update you on asshole.”

  “Sloane, you have every right to want to end his life, but you’re encroaching on my line of work, so back off. Let me handle Crowell. You won’t dispose of him in the correct way. That leaves you at risk for arrest. Meanwhile, I have an appointment with him in the meat shack.”

  Meat shack? Do I want to fucking know what that is? Familiar with the bikers, I really don’t.

  “I understand why you want to break his face in, but you’re not a fucking killer. Fuck,” he continues in an irritated voice. “Why the fuck am I arguing about that motherfucker? Your job is to make my little sister happy and see to her well-being. Enjoy your fucking life. Be happy you don’t have the threat of a murder conviction over your head and console yourself that some shit is better left handled by others.”

  “I’ll let you know what I decide,” I growl and hang up, stomping back into the studio and waiting for Georgie to come from the dressing room in her first outfit.

  When she does, I groan at the black leather pants clinging to her ass and the matching bandeau with spiked straps that pushes up her tits.

  Her straightened hair blows all over the place with the effects of the fan. She poses and twirls for the camera, lost in her fun and hurting my dick. I’m both regretful and relieved when she’s ushered away for her next wardrobe change. Until I see her in a tulle and lace black bustier with floral adornments, matching panties, garters, stockings, and heels.

  While Paul and the other man whose name I’m not fucking interested in arrange a crimson colored boudoir lounger, Georgie sashays to me and kisses me.

  I slant my mouth over hers and she hums in the back of her throat, wiggling against me. “I’m going to fuck your brains out,” I whisper against her ear, biting her lobe. “In five fucking seconds with you dressed as you are and grinding against me.”

  Desire heats up her skin, flushed pink and smelling divine.

  “Ready, Georgie,” Sedona calls, interrupting my plans.

  Before the shoot begins, Georgie returns to make-up for a lipstick reapplication. I behave through an evening gown change, an after five hip length dress that will show her pussy to the world if she bends, and several dressings in trendy everyday clothes. During our late champagne brunch, Georgie skypes Abby so she can talk to Bryn. On her now is a silk, wide-leg red jumpsuit with see-through tulle along the sides. With her hair in a slick ponytail, she’s confident. “Are you ready for her final outfit, Sloane?” Sedona asks with a smirk as Georgie beams a smile at me and heads to one of the racks where the clothes brought in for her are hanging.

  “Yes, I am.”

  It takes over an hour before Georgie trots out in an oversized leather jacket, black patent leather pumps and a thong. Sedona snaps numerous photos then indicates to Georgie to remove the jacket. When she does, she turns. A carbon copy of my back piece is painted on her back. A few shots taken has her hair arranged over one breast. She peeps over her shoulder, not caring about the exposed cheeks of her ass. She holds her arms up and bows her head, recreating my photo, the one she’s said time and again is her favorite. Whereas I was completely naked and had my dick sucked by one of the stylists after the shoot finished, she knows I’d pitch a fucking fit if she walked out here exposing her pussy.

  “Beautiful, doll.” Sedona snaps away as I grit my teeth. Ass out is still too much with Paul and the other asshole leering at her. “Sloane, you want to get in the last few shots?”

  I bare my teeth in an annoyed smile, already unbuttoning my shirt, unable to refuse at Georgie’s look. “Sure.”

  A blush reddens her body once I’ve removed all my clothes, socks, and boots. My cock is hard and I’m naked. That isn’t my fucking concern. Showing the world she belongs to me is.

  “Impressive,” Sedona says dryly though she’s seen me with my clothes off before. Casual sex between friends isn’t anything Georgie needs to know about. Besides, Sedona’s happily married now and a mother herself. “Your husband’s shameless, Georgie.”

  She nods, focused on my dick. Snickering, I pull her against me, her back to the camera, my hands possessively at her waist. My head is bowed as I offer the camera an under-eyed look, setting the tone for our photo shoot.

  “This isn’t porn,” Georgie grumbles, when I nibble on her neck in a few frames.

  I bite her earlobe. “I’m well aware of that. Look up at me as if you adore me, palms flat on my chest and hold my gaze.”

  Instead of the game of jealous possession I’ve played, I lose myself to the pure innocence of Georgie’s expression. She isn’t pretending for the cameras with me and, although neither am I, I did allow my ego to get in the way. I drop my dickhead attitude and allow real emotion to take over.

  “Do you want to view some of the shots?” Sedona asks, once we wrap up.

  “Five minutes.” I take Georgie’s hand and lead her to the bathroom. “You don’t mind, Georgie?”

  “No.” She stands on her tiptoes, offering me her mouth, which I’m more than happy to devour. Tearing off her thong, I test her pussy, ready to fuck her. She groans at my exploration. I finger-fuck her in a fast rhythm, thumbing her clit, murmuring my approval when she rolls against my hand.

  Her pussy is hot and wet. Lifting her into my arms, I thrust into her. “I’ve been wanting pussy from you for hours.”

  “My pussy is yours anytime you want it.”

  I grin wolfishly and bring her to a quick orgasm, coming a moment later.

  On our way to the house, Georgie falls asleep, perfect opportunity for me to call Cash and tell him to handle Crowell. My priority is Georgiana. That doesn’t stop me from giving Cash a few suggestions on how I’d like Crowell to suffer during his last moments on earth.

  “Georgie?” Groggy, I lift my head at the sound of my father’s voice calling me through my closed bedroom door. I glance at the clock. 9:53AM.

  Sloane’s already gone to rehearsal, and Abby took over with Bryn after I awakened at three this morning to see to her.

  A knock sounds at the door. Since I didn’t answer his call, I suppose Dad decided to knock.

  If I weren't stark naked and smelling of Sloane, I’d invite him in. “Give me five minutes, Dad,” I yell, scrambling from the bed and heading to the bathroom to freshen up.

  It takes me fifteen minutes, and when I walk out to the breakfast room, I find a shocking sight—Bryn in Grandma’s lap. Make that two shocking sights. Grandma and Dad are actually engaged in conversation. It isn’t one-sided where she’s barking orders.

  “Morning, dear,” she greets, holding her cheek out to not so subtly indicate for me to kiss her. “Parnell and I were just discussing you.”

  After I kiss Grandma and Dad, I take Bryn into my arms, intending to head to the buffet.

  “Sit,” Grandma orders, picking up a bell and ringing it. “You have servants now.”

  “I don’t want servants, Grandma.”

  “Tough. You may not want to be waited on hand and foot, but you aren’t used to menial labor, husbands, and children.”

  I open my mouth to argue.

  “Save your breath,” Dad says with a weary smile, as a woman bustles from the kitchen and heads to the buffet.

  She turns to me. “What would you like, Mrs. Mason?”

  I throw Grandma an are-you-for-real glare, but Dad shakes his head. Gritting my teeth, I scowl. “Juice and an English muffin,” I mutter
.

  “Pat,” Grandma says with a flourish, “meet my granddaughter, Georgiana Mason. Georgie, this is Pat Brigston.”

  “Ma’am.” I smile at her. Later, when Grandma leaves, I’ll tell her it isn’t necessary to address me as ‘Mrs. Mason.’

  “She’s abandoning this buffet nonsense,” Grandma continues, addressing Pat as if I’m not there.

  “Yes, ma’am.” She focuses on me. “I’ll have your breakfast out to you in five minutes.”

  “This is my house, Grandma,” I grouch when Pat leaves.

  “Yes, dear, but you’re its penniless mistress, so I must follow Mr. Mason’s instructions.”

  “What do you want?” Somehow, I believed Mom’s death would’ve changed Grandma’s attitude. She has softened toward me, but she’s still brash and abrasive and controlling.

  “There’ll be changes,” Grandma says stiffly. “With Cassandra gone…” For the first time, there’s a crack in her voice. She blinks rapidly and clears her throat, straightening her shoulders. “Her half of the house went to your father. He doesn’t want it. I’ve spoken to Joshua and he has no interest in it either. Therefore, it goes to you. As I doubt you’d want it, it’s on the market. Once it sells, you’ll get the money. I’m working with Mr. Mason and his attorneys to draw up papers stating that money is yours hereafter and forever more. Joshua has his own money with his own company as does your father. Any questions, dear?”

  “No,” I tell her quietly.

  “Next, your mother did leave you money as she did Joshua. Everything else goes to Parnell.” She looks down her nose at me. When I nod, she slides her napkin over and reveals a check.

  She hands it to me, and I gape at the numbers. “Mom, left this to me?” I squeak.

  Grandma clasps her hands together. “How would it look to the world if she’d written her only daughter out of her will?”

  Of course, Mom didn’t leave me money so I can have independence and a secure future. Even in death, it’s about appearances. I set the check next to my cloth place mat and don’t comment.

  Abby walks in. Unlike her distance of the past few days, she’s sad and tired, offering my father a brief glance before lowering her lashes and turning toward the buffet.

  Dad gets to his feet. “If you ladies will excuse me.” Not waiting for a response, he hurries out the room.

  Grandma glares at the chair where he’d sat, before transferring a disgusted look to Abby as she takes a place at the far end of the table.

  After five minutes of intensely uncomfortable silence, Grandma speaks. “Well, my work here is done. I’ll be flying back to Houston this afternoon.”

  “Which airline?” Abby mumbles with resentment. “Broomstick Express?”

  A giggle escapes me before I pretend to cough. Grandma still drills both Abby and I with a glare.

  “I’m ready when you are, Helen,” Dad interrupts, standing in the doorway, with a small suitcase.

  Tears rush to Abby’s eyes and my father looks away, turning to the door.

  “Daddy!” I cry, jumping to my feet. The last time I called him daddy I was nine. On my tenth birthday, I considered ‘Dad’ more grown up and stuck with it. “I love you.” Standing on my tiptoes, I hug my dad, breathing in his woodsy cologne. “M-may I call you sometimes?”

  “Georgiana…” Regret layers his sadness and grief. “Call me anytime.”

  Relief flows inside of me and I smile at him. “You call me, too.”

  Nodding to Abby, Dad leaves and Grandma gets to her feet.

  “Dear, if you need me I’m only a phone call away. Broom and all,” she clips out, narrowing her eyes at us and stalking out.

  Was that really self-deprecation from Grandma?

  Abby and I are as uncomfortable in each other’s presence now as we were with my grandmother around.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her, wanting our friendship back.

  She swallows and stares into her coffee cup. I think it’s empty. “Do you think I led Cassandra to suicide?” she asks softly.

  “Of course not!”

  “Everything’s a blur after you were shot. I was walking into the hotel lobby when I heard the gunfire. I remember trying to shield Bryn, and Jason twisting his body in front of us, demanding I get down. He was aware of the baby,” she says dully, and squirms in her seat. “My first thought was of Parnell and what your death would do to him. Then I thought of Sloane. Finally, fear set in, and I didn’t want to be alone.” She picks up a napkin, unaware that she’s filled in the missing pieces for me about how Bryn had gotten to safety. “At news of your mother…” She skips the nature of the news. “I felt nothing but relief. But it wasn’t for you. It was for me. I don’t…you loved her in spite of everything and it shamed me.”

  I still don’t make the connection of why she feels she’s to blame for my mother’s death.

  “On the way from picking up Helen, she said if I’d never slept with Parnell, Cassandra would still be alive. She called me a disgraceful whore and Parnell a sad excuse for a man who didn’t deserve to grieve. I’d intended to leave that night.”

  “You aren’t any of what Grandma says,” I tell her firmly.

  She covers her face. “Oh, but I am. I can’t recall the names of three-quarters of the men I’ve slept with. Worse, I have no reason to, except that I like sex.”

  “I like it, too,” I admit. “That doesn’t make me a bad person. Don’t buy into the double standard about men who enjoy sex with numerous women versus women who do the same with numerous men.”

  She wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “She told me that even if she allowed Parnell happiness with another woman, she’d never let it be me.”

  I look away, sad about this entire situation involving Dad and Abby. When I focus on it from that angle, as just their complicated romance, I don’t feel the urge to cry for my mom. As much as I want to though, I can’t leave her out of this. She was the center of our family up until a few days ago.

  “Abby, when you found out Dad was married, happily or not, why continue?” I’m not judging her and I hope my question doesn’t offend her.

  “I didn’t immediately start sleeping with him. I met him at the country club when he was having lunch with Rand. Rand began to invite me to their lunches. Here and there, he’d miss and it would just be Parnell and I. Their lunches turned into dinners and the last few times, it ended up being just your father and me. This happened over a three-month period, Georgie. One night I invited him back to my condo. I was lonely and he was, too.”

  Mom lived in her own exalted world and whoever didn’t measure up wasn’t welcomed inside. She often told me Dad locked us in a gilded cage and it was up to us to make the best of it. When all was said and done, she loved him, though. Instead of following her heart and letting him in, she conformed to what she believed was expected of her from him, Grandma, and the Society she so loved.

  “Our affair…when I asked him to walk away from his marriage, he told me he loved his wife. It wasn’t the usual, I have to think of my kids. It was that he loved Cassandra. We stopped all contact for six weeks. He called me for my birthday though, and the affair resumed. He wanted a way to have me and her. I thought I had a chance, so…” She shrugs. “You know how it ends.”

  Yes. “There is some good to this,” I say with a sigh. “Sloane and I met. I had Bryn.”

  She nods.

  “Dad is as responsible as Mom. You share some blame, too. Not for her death,” I amend quickly. “Dad could’ve chosen her or you. Mom could’ve put her foot down and said no to their ménages.” I scrunch my nose at the thought, disgusted and grossed out as usual. “You could’ve told Dad he had to decide, instead of suggesting he bring other people into the bed, so he could ease you in. I…wasn’t there a risk of losing him anyway? If he got into one of the other women? I-I mean look what happened with Mom and Sloane?”

  “You’re right. But by then it was too late,” Abby confesses, more despair filling her voice
.

  “Too late?”

  “By then I’d fallen in love with your dad, but he remained out of reach. Still loyal to your mother. He loved her but he was no longer in love with her.”

  “That honor went to you, but my Dad’s loyalty demanded he stay with Mom.”

  It all clicks in my head. Dad’s misery whenever he sees Abby. His distress over Mom’s death. Even the way he mostly ignored me in the two years before I met Sloane. He was caught between loyalty and love, honor and happiness. He failed tremendously and acted more dishonorable than he would have if he’d just walked away.

  Abby’s broken-hearted, Mom’s dead, and Grandma is vengeful. Because of Dad’s actions, Sloane’s life was almost ruined and I ended up pregnant at sixteen. Funny how one person’s bad judgment affected so many lives. Not to say the rest of us didn’t do our share to contribute. But it was just a perfect storm that grew epic once a superstar became involved.

  “Yes, Parnell stayed out of duty. And threats from Helen that she’d expose his propensity for ménages.”

  Like Mom and Grandma, Dad is a well-known pillar of society. If Grandma had exposed his sexcapades, he would’ve suffered untold embarrassment. “Maybe, now, that things are different…” Unable to finish the sentence, my voice trails off. Nothing’s the same with Mom gone, but some good should come from all the tragedy.

  “I’m glad your father took the road he did. What we did was hurtful enough. Now, it’s over.” She rubs her temples. “I always condemned my brother for the way he treated his first wife. Alexia loved Rand, but when he met Bryn he discarded her like garbage.”

  “Were you close to Alexia?”

  “Not until he reconnected with Kiln and the other two. I was a baby when all that drama between my brother and his women took place. But Alexia has a way about her. She made me feel so sorry for her.”

  “Maybe, you should have. Rand is…” Evil. I catch myself because Abby seems very close to Rand. I don’t want to offend her. I return to the topic of my dad. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a relationship between you and Dad.”