by Aimee Salter
“I don’t want your dirty whore money!” he screams at me, veins popping in his forehead. “But I’m done being soft on you.”
Soft? This hell I’ve lived was him being soft?
“If you’re going to keep everything for yourself, you can pay your own way.”
“Dan, I wasn’t planning to keep it all.” Anger fizzes in my chest. But I fight it down. Adrenaline hums in my veins.
He lurches toward me, finger thrusting at me with every other word. “I put up with you spending all your time over there, sleeping with that boy—who am I kidding, you’re probably fucking both of them—and acting like you’re too good for this house—”
“What? I never said—”
“—but I will not put up with that kind of darkness in my home if you can’t even contribute.”
“I told you,” my voice is too high. I try to lower it. “I would be happy to give you whatever you need. Bob said my earnings need to go directly to me because in the future there can be legal hassles—”
“Hassles? I’ll show you hassles you little bitch.”
“Dan!”
But he reaches for me, his face sinking from red to purple.
I stumble backward. He’s going to hit me.
It’s reflex, as he gets closer, I cower, arms over my head, weird noises erupting from my throat.
Mom, please, do the impossible. Show up. Right now.
Two steps away, Dan raises his hand to backhand me, his lips twisted into a sneer, his face painted with rage as he pitches forward.
Time slows down, and the air crystalizes.
I am seventeen. I have some money, and maybe more coming. I have a guy who loves me, and I am capable of feeding, clothing, and managing myself. I am not a bad kid. And I am not ungrateful. But if he touches me I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. Knowing he can do that. Waiting for it to happen again.
Something in my chest snaps.
As Dan steps into reach, I catch his wrist. “Stop!”
My conviction must surprise him. He freezes. I’ll only have seconds before he finds his rage again. “You lay one hand on me and I’m calling the police and walking out that door forever.” My voice shakes, but the conviction is still there.
We both stop. His surprise is bleeding back into anger so I push his arm away and let go. I’ll run if I have to.
“You’d never call the cops on me.”
“I would, and I’ll charge you with assault, tell the entire town what you did. I will make you pay. You want to hit me, you’ll have to kill me. I mean it.”
Inhale. Exhale shakily. I push my shoulders back and hold eye-contact.
Dan leans down until we’re nose to nose. He’s quivering, but not with fear. “You wanna tempt me, Kelly?”
My skin goose-pimples and ice slides down my spine.
“I’m done being scared of you,” I lie. “We can do this together where you let me come and go as I please, and I’ll help you get better. Or I can walk away and you’ll never see a cent, or have a story to tell. Not one. I will stay away from you forever. So which will it be?”
My head screams get out of here, he’s gonna blow! But it’s do or die time.
“What’ll it be, Dan?” My voice shakes.
He straightens. “Ungrateful little wh—”
“I’m not having sex with anyone. If you call me that again, I’m done with you. You want a cook and a housekeeper? Then admit that I’m old enough and capable enough to make my own choices about where and when I spend my time.”
“Bratty, entitled—”
“It’s a simple statement, Dan.”
His face turns a bright shade of puce. A single strand of his gray hair that he vainly brushes to the side in an effort to cover a growing bald spot waves from his crown and I’m gripped with a hysterical urge to laugh.
Dan’s body tightens, then quivers.
He’s thinking about being close to the boys, the stories he can tell, the status he’ll get from friends.
My confidence wavers. I force myself to stand straighter and not look away.
Dan scoffs. “Fine. You’re old enough to take care of yourself? Then you’re old enough to pay your own way. I’ll have rent and food from you every Sunday. One hundred and fifty dollars a week should do it.”
I almost choke, but force myself to agree. I’ll soon have enough money in my account to keep me going for months. Then I’ll be eighteen and, oh my gosh, I could leave.
Dan leans back in a hair. “You think you’re so grown up? Great. I’m done. I wash my hands of you.”
I bark a laugh. “Except when I make your dinner, right?”
“Well, that’s how you’ll earn your way.”
I would have thought one hundred and fifty a week would handle that, but do I care? Not really. Not if it gets me free.
Dan shakes his head. “You get in trouble, don’t come to me. You need something you can handle it yourself, little miss high and mighty.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re nothing, you know that? They’ll all see that really soon. And then you’ll be washed up before you even start. You think those boys are gonna keep you around when they can have any piece of tail they want? You’re nothing to them. You’ll be a one-hit wonder while they ride the highway and leave you disease-ridden on the side of the road.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Don’t know why I bothered with you to begin with. You’re nothing, Kelly. A big, fat zero.”
I stare at him in shock as he shakes his head, then eases himself back to the couch and down into the seat, obviously sore after moving so quickly.
He picks up the TV remote, clicks on the game, and something inside me shrivels.
I walk toward the stairs slowly, then faster, until I take the top steps at a run and dart into my room, slamming the door behind me.
My pulse thumps in my ears. My hands tremble.
Then I realize what’s happened and I sink to the floor, panting.
Dan almost hit me, I marvel. And I won.
But the thrill is short lived as the image of his angry face flashes.
This isn’t over.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Two Months Ago
Kelly
In the passenger seat of Bob’s car, my butt pressed into the heated leather seat, there’s so many buttons and levers I have my hands gripped together in my lap in case I accidentally touch something and launch a missile into the County Courthouse.
“I’ve got us a booking at The Kitchen, have you been there?” Bob acts like this is no big deal.
“Chef Sousa’s restaurant?”
“That’s the one.” Bob smiles the way I imagine a father would when he’s surprised his little girl, and I’m touched.
“This is an awesome day,” I say, looking out the window at the passing city because I’m too overwhelmed to meet his gaze.
“It’ll only get better,” Bob says seriously. “You’ve got a special talent, Kelly. And the fact that you’re so close to the Crash Happy boys is a stroke of luck. It’s true what they say in this industry, it really is about who you know. And you know the best up-and-comers we’ve seen in years.”
I shift in my seat. I don’t want to use Tommy and Crash to get myself a career in music. Heck, I’m not even sure I want a career in music. I just know I like it. And I love spending time with the guys. And right now, I need the money.
The restaurant is everything I’ve ever heard. Dimly lit, tastefully decorated. The manager calls us by name and makes recommendations based on what they believe we’d like. The waitress—I mean, host—tells me to avoid the paella because there’s fish in it. How they’d even know I don’t like seafood is beyond me.
After we order, I stare at the walls—gray and textured to look like velvet or a grassy field—and the brass-pointed lighting fixtures, the penguin-dressed servers and, gosh, the whole thing is just beyond me. I feel very out of place.
Bob says, “Relax. You’re here with me and
they want to keep me happy. No one will call you an imposter and kick you out.”
“How’d you know that’s what I was thinking?” I look down at my dress which is more suited to a diner brunch than this place. I’d felt pretty this morning until I arrived in those grand offices, and now here.
“It’s how we all feel the first few times good things happen and we get to go behind the velvet rope,” he says, smiling. “I’ll let you in on a secret.” He leans forward. “Every single person here, and at Sony, and in the studio you’ll visit next week and everywhere else—they all shit, and fart, and get sick, just like you do.” He sits back, his receding hairline shining under the soft lights. “Seriously, though, Kelly, don’t let them fool you. Every single person you meet in this industry is just a person. No matter how arrogant they might be. If you treat them like equals they’ll respect you. If you try to make yourself good enough, there’ll be blood in the water.”
I pluck at the napkin in my lap. “I mean, I feel that way about Crash and Tommy. They’re just my friends, you know? But these other people. They’re professionals.
Bob shrugs. “Successful people like people who don’t treat them like their shit doesn’t stink. Treat them the way you do Crash and Tommy and you’ll do fine.”
For the rest of the meal, we talk about music and Bob’s plans to launch my “brand” on the back of the duet. By the time we’ve eaten the incredible food, my head’s spinning with advice—and fear.
Take care of your voice—keep your throat warm and no smoking or being around smokers.
Don’t tell anyone what’s going on.
You can’t post anything online.
Listen to Crash and Tommy, when it comes to the music. They know what they’re doing.
And on, and on, and on until I’m scared I’ll forget something.
Bob reaches out to pat my hand on the table. “Kelly, honey, this is a good thing. I’m on your team, okay? I’m here to help you navigate, and make sure there are no big mistakes. I’ll set up some practice time for you with my assistants—we have a demo studio at the office—and you’ll do great.
“We’re scheduling some private functions to try the song live. So you’ll have a chance to sing to an audience before you go to the arena.”
I hadn’t thought about that.
I’ve never sung live to people who don’t know me.
“Kelly,” Bob’s smiling, but there’s a firmness to his voice, and his fingers tighten on my hand. “I’ve got this. Just relax and keep singing. You’ll do great.”
I don’t believe him, but I also don’t have an answer. So when Crash texts, I tell Bob I’ve got plans with the boys and can he take me back to my car?
An hour later I’m at Crash’s house. As I drive through the gates I wonder if I’ll always feel this wave of sadness when I reach this house.
But as I reach the deck, Crash calls my name. He throws his arms around me and twirls me in circles. I shriek and laugh, feel a pang at the warmth of his embrace.
“Amber told us!” Crash says, putting me down, his hands still on my shoulders. “It’s official, we’re doing a single together, can you believe it?!”
“No. I really can’t.”
Crash grins. I wish I felt like celebrating as much as everyone else does. Why can’t I enjoy this?
Tommy chews on his lip ring as I approach. “You okay?” he asks as I pass.
I nod. “Let’s play some music.”
Later that evening—I’ve fielded two calls from Dan already, and told him nothing—I’m on the deck. The autumn air is cooler than it was a couple weeks ago. I’m struck with a sudden chill.
Life is changing.
I decide that’s a happy thought.
The boys are inside getting beer. Coda’s twitching at my feet, his old paws paddling. I hope in his dreams he’s pain-free and bouncing, young again.
Using my toe to scratch his back, I stare down at him in the golden light reflecting from the window behind me.
I’m going to be a recording artist—even if it is just a one-hit wonder. My voice will be on a Crash Happy single.
So, why don’t I feel ecstatic?
Then Crash comes out onto the deck carrying a steaming mug of coffee that he places in front of me while I admire the tats on his upper arm
I think he’ll go sit down after that. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls me to my feet and into his chest. I exhale and sag into him.
“Kel—”
The slider rumbles quietly. Crash and I jerk apart, my heart thudding from the sudden shot of adrenaline.
Tommy stands in the doorway, gaping. Crash claws his fingers through his hair. I look back and forth between them. This isn’t how I wanted to have this conversation.
“I was just having a moment,” I say. There are several inches between me and Crash now. But I can sense the tension in Tommy.
He looks back and forth between us, then fixes on Crash. “Really, dude?”
“Really, what?”
“You’re doing this? Already? You’re fucking shameless, man.”
I’ve told Crash a couple times that he should fill Tommy in, that we’re trying. But he’s too scared of Tommy’s reaction. Even though he can be stubborn sometimes, Crash is like those Ghiradelli chocolates: Brittle on the outside, gooey in the middle.
I clear my throat, but Tommy just folds his arms and continues glaring at Crash.
Crash looks at me.
I clear my throat. “We talked.” Tommy switches the glare to me. “We’re taking it slow. For now. But, there’s more there. For both of us. It’s just hard to figure out how to get back to that.”
“Here’s a clue,” Tommy says. “Don’t.”
“That’s not your call to make.”
He ignores me, scowling at Crash. “You said you wouldn’t hurt her again. Or me.”
“I haven’t!”
“It’s only a matter of time! You’re a mess and she’s not much better—”
“Hey!” I cry.
Crash steps up to Tommy. I leap forward. But Crash doesn’t touch him.
“No offense, bro, but this isn’t about you,” he says. “Unless it is?”
Tommy’s face gets thunderous. “It’s about my two best friends not putting each other in a mental institution.” His muscles twitch under his tattoos. “She’s in fucking pieces and she’s gotta deal with that prick at home. You were—” he cuts himself off with a quick glance at me. “You can’t just walk into this and expect—”
“I’m right here and can talk for myself!” I wish I didn’t sound shrill. “And Dan is—”
“Dan’s an asshole!” they both say in unison, then glare at each other. My lips twitch. It’s exactly the kind of thing we all would have cracked up about a couple years ago. They look like maybe they want to laugh. But neither of them breaks.
I square my shoulders. “Dan is under control.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dan’s what?”
They both turn stubborn gazes on me. I quail. But if I can back Dan down, I can handle these two. “He got mad about the money not coming through him and came at me last night—” both the guys tense so I put my hands up to stop them from interrupting. “I made sure he understood that I’d get him arrested if he touched me. He didn’t like it, but he stopped. Bob’s helping me set everything up so he can’t get a cent. Dan’s agreed to give me the freedom to come and go.”
Tommy looks skeptical. “He agreed?”
“Reluctantly.”
Crash’s face is deep red, but his voice is calm. If short. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to. There’s been a lot going on. This was the first chance.” His brows pinch, but I stand my ground. “I’ve got Bob now, he’ll help any time I need it. Holly will sign whatever needs signing. And you guys are on my side too, right?”
They both murmur, “Of course,” but neither of them relaxes.
“None of that means it’s a good idea
for you two to detonate all over each other again. That just makes it even less likely you’ve can handle it if this explodes in your face.”
“I won’t be exploding anywhere.”
Tommy’s expression doesn’t change. “I hope not. Because we don’t need that either.”
Crash curses under his breath. “Seriously, Tom? If you’re our best friends, you should be the first one to support us.”
“As your best friends, I should be the first person to help you both see when you’re headed into crazy space.”
Crash’s jaw twitches.
“You haven’t been yourself for over a year,” Tommy says, low and hard. “I get that it was hard, man. I do. But you wanna pretend you’re all good? You don’t just walk away from that stuff.”
The guys are almost chest to chest.
When Tommy’s lips get thin and his hand clenches, I touch Crash’s arm. “I think you should tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Tommy growls.
“Nothing.”
“Crash, he deserves to know.”
Tommy goes very still. “What haven’t you told me?”
Crash runs a hand through his hair again and shakes his head. The glance he gives me says he doesn’t appreciate me putting him on the spot. But I’m done with lies and hiding. I can’t see a way for us to get through this when we have to pretend. About anything.
Crash sighs. “You better sit down, T.”
Tommy sits right on the edge of the couch, poised to leap back up. Crash paces in front of him.
“What?” Tommy snaps.
Crash runs a black-nailed hand through his hair. “Turns out Amber got us individual contracts so the label could kick you off the band if they wanted to.”
Tommy, his black hair in tousled waves to his shoulders, silver rings in brow and lip, pales.
“They want to use us against each other,” Crash pleads with his best friend. “There was no way that was happening. Amber knew I wouldn’t let you go. She used that.”
Tommy’s Adam’s apple bobs. “You let her do that for me?”
“No! It’s not about you—if it wasn’t you, it would have been something else. She wanted leverage over me. So she used you, and some other things too. I’m only telling you because we need to have each other’s backs.”