A Twist of Love

by Callie Bardot

  “I don’t want to see, I want to know,” she said. Her gut began to twist into a knot.

  “Just...come on.” He climbed out of the car, strolled to her side, and opened her door.

  “I don’t want to come on,” she said, her heart clawing to get free. Her foot started tap, tap, tapping on the floorboard.

  “What, you think this is an ambush?” Keys said. “Come with me. You might like it.”

  He grinned at her.

  She squinted. Is that a real smile or a fake smile? Maybe I’m paranoid.

  She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  She slowly exited the plush seat, body aching, and dragged behind Keys. They ascended the sweeping stairs leading to the elegant front door, complete with gargoyle door knocker.

  Dante swung the door open before they had a chance to knock. Dressed in his usual cream-colored Henley shirt, he looked every bit the rock star. He even flashed her his winning smile—the smile he used for photographers.

  “Hey, Gia.”

  “Uh, hey,” she said, cautiously.

  “Come here. Let me give you a hug,” Dante said, holding his arms wide.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Sure thing. But go easy on me.” She stepped into his gentle embrace. Her eyes caught movement inside the house, and she pushed away from him. “Who’s house is this? What are we doing here?”

  For a second, she thought maybe it was some sort of celebration, welcoming her back from nearly killing herself. Then again, no one had seemed particularly celebratory in her hospital room.

  “It’s a friend’s house. Come on in,” he said, warmly—a little too warmly.

  He gently placed his arm around her shoulders and led her into the foyer.

  “What are we doing here, D?” Gia asked, her anxiety spiking. And why are you acting so strange? What did you do with my former-friend turned estranged band member?

  Dante guided her across the marble floor into a room...some sort of office or study on the side. She barely glanced at the massive wood desk. She flicked her gaze at the mahogany bookcases lining the walls, filled with ancient-looking bound leather books. Finally, her eyes landed on the occupants. Heat, Zander, Trisha, Mia, Kent, and Kennedy were sitting around in plush chairs and sofas. They all got to their feet.

  “Hey, Gia,” Zander said. “You sure look better than last we saw you.”

  Her head cocked. The dry, chalky sensation in her mouth from a few days ago resumed. She swallowed.

  “What is this? It isn’t my birthday.” Her head swung toward the front door. “I, uh...I forgot something in the car.”

  Keys stood directly behind her, like a bodyguard.

  “Stay,” Dante said. “I’d like you to meet someone.” He called, “Marco. Come here, please.”

  “Who’s Marco?” Gia asked. The hair on her neck stood on end.

  A tall, striking guy strode into the room. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, he looked like he played for a professional sports team, like football. Brown hair, brown eyes, a chiseled jaw—he was far too clean cut for his own good.

  “Hi,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Marco Monroe.”

  “Uh, hi.” She took his warm hand with her clammy one. “I’m known as Ms. Styx,” she said, using her stage name to distance him. “What is this? Who are you?”

  Dante stepped next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder again. “Marco’s going to be a friend of yours.”

  “I don’t need a friend. I only need my drumsticks and to keep fighting with you.” She wanted to wriggle free and race from the room. She thought she might hyperventilate, her lungs were pumping so hard.

  “Easy, Gia,” Marco said, letting a warm smile spread across his stubble-lined face.

  Christ, he even has dimples.

  “Will someone please tell me what the fuck this is and who Marco is?” Gia blurted, turning to her friends.

  “It’s an intervention,” Kennedy said, her eyes hard. “Marco’s one of the best around.”

  Gia ignored her, thinking, your recommendation of anything is worthless.

  “Yeah.” Dante squeezes her shoulder. “Marco’s going to be your sober companion.”

  “My what? No way,” Gia said, her gaze skittering every which way, searching for an exit. “No, no, no, no, no.”

  “Yes, Gia. It’s for your own good.” Dante almost looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

  “You can’t make me do this, D.” Gia’s eyes grew wide.

  “Yes, Gia,” Dante said. “I can. You want to stay in the band, right?”

  Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “You can’t do that to me.”

  Dante looked away.

  The only person who gave her eye contact was the big dreamy-eyed dude standing before her.

  “Stop looking at me,” she said to Marco. If ever she’d wanted to die, now would be the appropriate time. There was no way they could make her do this…at least she hoped.

  Chapter 4

  Gia put up her hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay, I get it. You were worried because I almost killed myself. This is a reaction. Well, don’t worry, I’ve got this. I promise when we get back to the states, I’ll take this shit seriously and go to meetings.”

  No one said a thing. Zander and Trisha shuffled in place.

  The elaborate estate office seemed to squeeze in on her. The bookcases appeared closer. The plush velvet chairs and sofas gathered around her, pinning her in. Her eyes landed on the decanters of amber liquid resting on a mahogany wet-bar against the wall. You got me into this. But don’t worry, I’ve got this.

  She swallowed back the chalky sensation in her mouth. Then, she looked for Mia, her friend, and ally.

  Mia, framed against a gigantic picture of someone’s uncle or heir apparent, dropped her head, avoiding her gaze.

  The only eyes Gia managed to capture in that direction, were with the snooty looking man in the picture. You’re no help, you pretentious fuck.

  She glanced toward Dante. “Come on, D, please. Stop with the theatrics here. You’re embarrassing me.”

  He stared at her somberly, his rock star persona replaced with a grim mask. He slowly shook his head.

  “What did you do with Damien? What does he know?” She kept her voice to a whisper.

  “Dami’s at the hotel. All he knows is you hurt yourself. I told him you needed to be alone. He’s been through enough trauma in his life. He doesn’t need to be a part of this.” He tightened his arms around his chest.

  Gia started to fling her arm out, but the throbbing ache made her wince. “But you all do?” She gritted her teeth. Her gaze flipped in Kennedy’s direction.

  “I’m sure you have everything to do with this. This was your idea, right? ‘Gia’s acting out. Her actions are hurting the band, sweetie’,” she said in a high-pitched voice.

  “No, it wasn’t...” Kennedy says, her blue eyes filling with tears.

  Gia lunged at Kennedy. “Get real, bitch. You want me out. This is your way of accomplishing it.”

  Kennedy backed away, putting her hands in front of her face.

  “Gia! Stop!” Dante charged toward her and restrained her hands behind her back. “It wasn’t her idea. It was mine. Kennedy said you’d put up a fight. She didn’t want to do this. I did.” His words sounded like growls in Gia’s ears.

  She struggled against his restraint. “Let me the fuck go, D. I said I’ll get help. I don’t need this shit.”

  Her stomach held nothing but bricks. I thought these people were my friends. Angry tears pricked at her eyes.

  “Gia. This is for your own good,” Dante said.

  “How do you know what’s good for me?” she said, her voice rising. “You barely look at me anymore. You haven’t given me the time of day. Not since meeting her.” Gia’s head snapped in Kennedy’s direction.

  Kennedy turned away.

  Dante’s grip tightened. “So that’s what this is about? A plea for attention? Is this what you wanted?”
/>
  The handsome linebacker she just met stepped toward her. “Easy, Dante. I’ve got this. Let her go.”

  The guy looked as massive as a concrete wall.

  Dante released Gia’s arms.

  She flung them into the air before rubbing the circulation back into her wrists. She whirled to face Dante, those god-damned tears threatening to fall.

  Her voice lowered to a near-whisper. “That hurt, Dante. I’ve still got bruises. I’m not some bionic woman, you know. I’ll make changes. I promise. Please, D. Make everyone go away. Please don’t saddle me with Brutus, here. Please.”

  God, I sound whiny.

  Dante’s eyes filled with tears, too. “I’m sorry I hurt your bruises. But I’m not sorry we’re doing this. You need help. It’s not fair for any of us. I can’t be the one to make you change. You already resent me.”

  “Yeah, but that’s because of Kennedy. That’s because we don’t spend time together anymore. We can make it right.” She kept her voice low, trying to keep this between the two of them, wishing the room would vacate. Her body hunched over like it belonged to someone else.

  Dante didn’t respond.

  “Make them leave, D. I don’t want to be watched anymore. I already feel like a side-show freak. Make them leave.” Her desperation grew like sharp, angry blades.

  Dante appeared to grow taller, right before her eyes. “They stay.”

  Gia stiffened. “Right. Back to Herr Commander,” she said with a German accent. She gave him a swift salute. “Look, asshole, I don’t appreciate this—any of it.”

  Dante let out a huge sigh. “ Marco’s one of the best sober companions in the country.”

  “Which country?” Gia snapped. “Because right now, we’re in the UK. We head for the good old U. S. of A. tomorrow. Maybe his charm won’t work there.”

  “Gia...” Dante began.

  She put her palm out. “I don’t need a sober companion! I’ve been stressed, is all. You want me to stop drinking? No problem. I’ll cut back. I’ll even quit.”

  “It’s not that easy,” Marco began.

  “You stay out of this, Brutus,” Gia snapped, wagging her finger at him.

  The guy appeared amused which made her itch to lunge at him.

  “This is between me and him.” She stabbed her finger at Dante. “This is a long time coming. We need to vent. That’s all. We’ll get this out of our system and be back to good. Back to Grammy good.”

  That fucking wall of silence dropped around her like a prison gate.

  “What?” she said, sweeping her head to meet the eyes of her witnesses. Only a few met her gaze. Even Mia refused to make eye contact. “I see. So you’re all in this together. I’m the one with the god-damned problem. Me. Not you two clowns who drink and drug and fuck yourselves silly.” She waved her hand at Keys and Heat.

  They both shuffled and looked at the Persian rugs lining the floor.

  “Let’s make me an example, am I right? Let’s hang her out on the line and let people focus on her, so we don’t have to face our problems,” Gia snarled. “I get it. I see how this works. I’ll be your sacrificial lamb. My father, the advanced psychologist, would say it’s a deflection to cover up the real issues.”

  A sneer formed on her face at the mention of her father.

  “You’ve got this all wrong...” Marco started.

  “Zip. Zip. Zip it,” Gia snapped, swiftly drawing her thumb and forefinger in front of her lips. “You shut up. Only I get to talk. Me and Dante. None of you accusers gets to say a word.”

  She let the rage building in her belly flash through her eyes.

  “No, you zip it, Gia. Enough! I’ve had it with you and your attitude.” Dante’s hands flew in the air.

  He looked royally pissed. As pissed as she’d ever seen him if truth be told. His face had become beet red. The veins in his neck pulsed as if she performed a drum solo in his bloodstream.

  Gia stilled, blinking, and swallowed back her defiance.

  “Okay, all of you leave. Everyone except me, Marco, and Gia. Out!” Dante shouted. He dragged his hand through his lustrous brown locks and paced in a circle.

  Kennedy flashed him a loving look of support, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  The onlookers slunk from the room, no doubt as eager to escape as Gia was to see them leave.

  “You’re killing me here, Gia. I’m dying. You think this is easy for me? You think I like watching my best friend kill herself? I’m sick to death over this.” Dante massaged his jaw with his hand. “Fuck. I didn’t think this would be so hard.”

  “I’m your best friend again? You actually care?” Gia said softly.

  She slowly sank into one of the antique chairs, mollified.

  “I’ve never not been your best friend,” Dante said. He stepped toward her, crouched, and placed his hands on her legs. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I love you like you’re my sister, Gia. I always have.”

  The tears began to fall in earnest, making sloppy tracks along her cheeks. “Oh, don’t. Stop speaking. If you go here, I’m going to lose it, D.”

  She scrubbed at her cheeks, trying to eliminate the evidence of vulnerability leaking from her eyes.

  “We have to get you through this,” Dante said, squeezing her thighs. Now his eyes began to water. “I’ve been dying, watching you drink yourself to death. Dying. The band’s been getting bigger, badder, and better. We play packed stadiums. Keeping you three out of trouble stresses me. Managing the band stresses me. Acting as the go-between with our agent and publicist and you three stresses me. But none of it matters if I lose you to the drink, Gia.”

  Her chin trembled, and her lip quivered. She chewed on her lip, trying to suppress the feelings threatening to overwhelm her. She shook her head back and forth like a wind-vane in a tornado. Her hands reached for Dante’s, and she held on for dear life. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Marco a couple feet away watching the whole thing go down, hands on his hips. She wished he’d disappear.

  “What do I have to do?” she whispered.

  “You have to sign a contract. You have to work with Marco for thirty days. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But he’s good, and he’s trustworthy. He’s Kennedy’s cousin.”

  Gia’s mouth opened with a quick, angry retort, but Dante held up his finger to shush her.

  “Stop. Don’t say it. Don’t go there. I asked her if she knew anyone. She recommended Marco.” He pushed himself to stand and said, “Scoot over.”

  She complied like a little kid, letting Dante squish in beside her.

  He put his arm around her shoulders, and she thought she’d melt.

  “I’ve missed you, D,” she said, whimpering like a baby.

  “I know. Me, too. Kennedy hasn’t replaced you,” he said, before kissing the top of her head.

  “Yes, she has,” Gia said, her jaw tightening. “At least be real with me, D. She’s replaced me and then some.”

  He blew out his breath between pursed lips. “Okay. We’ll have to find our way to a new and improved friendship, then. Deal?” He turned to look at her.

  She glared at him, head cocked. Does he really mean it?

  “Okay, deal.” She huffed out a sigh. “You’re too close, you know. You’re in my space.”

  She allowed herself to smile.

  “I know. Deal with it,” Dante said, one of his eyebrows raised. “Are you going to sign the contract?”

  “What if I don’t?” she said.

  Dante swallowed. “You’re out of the band.”

  Gia bristled. She tried to launch from the seat, but Dante held her firmly in place. “Fuck that, D! You know I’m good. You know I’m great. Rolling Stones even did a feature on me. Me. Not Keys. Not Heat. Me and my drum kit.”

  Me, not in the band? Her breath chuffed from her lungs, sharp and fast. She grew lightheaded.

  “I know this is a lot to deal with, Gia,” Marco said. He crouched in front of her and Dante, effectively trapping her. He re
sted his elbows on his massive thighs and loosely laced his fingers together. “Believe me, I know.”

  She took her first real look at him. The guy was beyond good-looking. But there was this air of wisdom reflected in his warm brown eyes like he’d been through some hard times. He didn’t look arrogant or pretentious. He looked real. But it’s got to be an act, right? Something he’s learned to make his victims feel at ease. “What, you’re going to tell me you’ve been through it and it’s hard but ‘you can make it, Gia,’ right? Fuck that shit. And fuck you.”

  Marco didn’t blink. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t back away from her. Instead, he regarded her with soft, compassionate eyes. “Nope. Not going to tell you any of those things. Not if you don’t want to hear them, at any rate.”

  “Good,” she said. “Then, back off.”

  He unfolded and stood, towering over her like a Redwood tree.

  “And get off of me, D. You’re smothering me.” She nudged Dante with her shoulder.

  Dante looked to Marco.

  The beast-man nodded.

  Dante squeezed out of the chair and sidled around the brute.

  She immediately missed his warmth. “Don’t go away. I just needed some breathing room. I still hurt, ya know? Stay close,” she said.

  He stepped next to the roomy chair, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I’m right here. So...” He squeezed her shoulder. “Are you going to sign?”

  “Do I have a choice?” she said, tipping her head to look at him.

  He shrugged. “You know the deal.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Okay, I’ll sign your fucking contract.”

  “It’s right here,” Marco said, patting his back pocket.

  “Hand it over. And then take me back to my hotel, one of you.” The words I need a drink slid through her mind as easily as breathing. She let out a long, tortured breath. This month might be harder than she hoped.

  Chapter 5

  Later, in the wee hours of the morning, Gia tip-toed along the hallway leading to her luxury suite in a hazy fog. The plush burgundy carpet felt cushy beneath her feet. She started to giggle when she passed by Marco’s room but clapped her hand over her mouth.