Off Her Rockers (Loving All Wrong #3.5)

by S. Ann Cole

A confused Xavier looked on, eyes wide at the commotion. Regret immediately slammed into me. I’d been stupid enough to let Jessica get to me and almost hurt Xavier in the process. As if he wasn’t hurt enough.

  Dr. Beharry scowled at Xena. “In order for the patient to recover, you need to adhere to the agreement, Miss Xander.”

  “I know.” Xena nodded respectfully. “It won’t happen again.” Her glare shifted to me. “Alina, let’s go.”

  I hesitated, peeking around Dr. Beharry to see Xavier once more. Jessica was back by his bedside, lovingly touching the side of his face, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Because she was allowed and I wasn’t. I never felt so helpless in my life.

  Out of nowhere, my mind catapulted back to a dream I had not so long ago, the morning I woke up with a hangover. The details were a little fuzzy, but I could remember Xavier having a leg bitten off by a shark. I could remember Jessica being his saving grace and I couldn’t do anything about it.

  Oh my God. I dreamed this! How? How could I have seen this months before it happened and not be able to stop it?

  My whole body started to tremble, my mouth as dry as dirt. I tried to step around Dr. Beharry to go to Xavier, but he blocked me.

  “Miss O’Hara, you have to leave.”

  “No,” I whispered so low it couldn’t have been audible. “I have to make him remember.”

  “Alina!” Xena snapped at me.

  I needed to get to him. I needed to stop her from touching him, brainwashing him with her stupid sweet-sounding voice, stealing him from us, making him forget me forever, making him hate me and love her. I needed to stop her. Stop her!

  I tried to plow over Dr. Beharry to get to Xavier and failed. Once again, I was tagged around the middle and lifted off the ground.

  I screamed. I cried. I flailed. I was wrecked.

  “Easy, sweetheart,” a male voice placated as the strong arms, belonging to said male voice, carried me out of the room.

  The voice belonged to Leo. He didn’t put me down until I was far away from Xavier’s room, all the way out in the reception area.

  By the time he set me down, I was too weak to stand on my own two feet, so I collapsed to the ground. Curled up into myself and wept. Because I knew this was it. Unless Xavier’s memories returned, this was it for me. Because Jessica would bend him whatever way she wanted, and his only family here, the woman I considered my best friend, was allowing it. She was allowing me to get shut out of his life. If Xavier never regained his memory, it was over.

  I wish I’d never broken up with him. I wish I’d helped him when Tex asked me to. I wish I’d made use of all the time I wasted sulking and shutting him out.

  I felt Leo’s hand in my hair, gently brushing it back. “It hurts for me, too, Alina, but I have to let myself believe he won’t be like that forever. His memory will return. Maybe next week, maybe next month, maybe next year. I don’t know when, but I do know we haven’t lost him. He’ll be back.”

  Sobbing uncontrollably, my cheek pressed into a pool of my own tears, I asked the floor, “Promise?”

  I felt him kiss the top of my head. “Promise.”

  A whole month later and nothing had changed. Xavier’s memory hadn’t returned, I still wasn’t allowed to see him, and I was still a crumpled mess on the floor.

  Xavier had been moved into rehab for a recovery program, where they practiced all kinds of exercises to jolt his memory. After three weeks, the only sign of change in him was his recognition of Xena. Though not as his sister, but as Aline Acy. His mother. He’s been calling her “mom” since then.

  Other than that, it was Jessica all the way, baby. He made the requests, and Xena, as the next of kin, had to sign off on it.

  I tried, every other day, to visit him in rehab, unsuccessfully so. Jess made sure of it that I wasn’t on the visitors list. Xena apologized on a daily basis for leaving the hope of Xavier all in Jessica’s hands. Standing by and allowing her to shut me out.

  “I just want him to remember” was her chorus. I found myself drifting farther and farther away from her the more she allowed Jessica to get away with it all. Only God knew the lies she was telling him about me.

  By month number two, my therapist advised me to find something to do that would keep my mind off Xavier at least ninety percent of the time. I’d shot down the idea.

  However, by month number three, when I tried to visit Xavier in rehab for the millionth time and got shut down, I lost it. I’d screamed at the top of my lungs like a mad black woman and stormed outside, picked up a garden brick and threw it through the rehabilitation center’s entry door. Which was made of glass. I went bat-shit; called the staff some rather colorful names, threatened Jessica, and then drove out of there like a maniac.

  Of course, I’d had to repair the damages and my tantrum ended up in the media.

  After that lapse in classy, mature behavior, I decided to take my therapist’s advice. I had to find something to distract me or I would, without a doubt, end up in a mental institution.

  Thus, I hit up Lion, who was over the moon when I told him I wanted a new contract. I threw myself into it with an appreciation I didn’t have for it before.

  Modeling again came with traveling, which meant I was in Los Angeles less and less. Perfect distraction.

  Davian, also, had begun traveling for shows around the time I began working again, so the vast majority of the time I had to travel with Jacob, which made things all kinds of hectic. Nonetheless, I welcomed the hectic, because it meant less time thinking about Xavier and plotting Jessica’s demise.

  Benny, not surprisingly, got a replacement for Xavier, but the band members made it clear in their interviews that the replacement was temporary, that there was “no Ninety Miles without Xavier Xander”. Their yearlong break was up and it was time for the band to start touring again, but they refused to tour until Xavier “returned”. For now, they did only big shows and relevant appearances.

  Saskia had successfully given birth to a healthy baby boy. I’d only been able to fly in for a few hours the day after she gave birth, as I was on a ridiculously tight schedule at the time Abel Kingston chose to enter the world. Nonetheless, I was glad I only had a few hours, because things were weird and tense at the hospital that evening, as Saskia slipped into some kind of weeping depression and refused to hold her baby. Everybody was trying to be there for her, and there just wasn’t any room for me. Once they left the hospital, JK had decided to put his family on lockdown so they could “sort their shit out”, and not even I was allowed to visit them right now. The only non-family allowed was Amanda, Saskia’s best friend. But if there was anyone who could sort Saskia out, it was her husband. JK.

  Jessica Stucco was back to being her fabulous socialite self, giving sad interviews about the “horrific” night. I swore she added something new and fabricated with each interview. She omitted the parts where she called him out of my bed and tried to rape him, of course.

  She made all kinds of excuses to keep Xena around, and that was reason number two why our friendship was uncomfortably strained of late. Xena had to choose, and she had to choose her brother, who had woken up a new man and chose Jessica.

  Again.

  October, month number six, found me in New York, where I would be spending the entire week doing catalog shoots. Davian was scheduled to return from Germany on the same day I left for New York, so I left Jacob with Dave.

  We’d been rotating him a lot, doing our best with our crazy schedules, but it worked, and we were in a great place.

  Davian was back to being the unattached, super-sexy rock star who had women fainting all around the globe. Single, hot, and famous never looked so good. Davian was it right now. Over the past couple of months, he’d been paired and rumored to have had hookups with a number of famous names.

  With each rumor, I got in a foul mood. Whenever we had to deal face-to-face, I gave him an attitude. We got into pointless arguments over my unwarranted attitudes because I had “no
right to be jealous”. Jealous? I would retort. Please. Get over yourself, I would scoff, and then I would avoid him until I got over my inexplicable vexation.

  We’d be in a great place again, taking Jacob to parks, picnics, and restaurants, watching movies together, falling asleep in each other’s beds…until Davian would travel again for a show, and rumors of his hookups would hit the tabloids yet again.

  I would get in a mood, and the attitudes and arguments would start all over again.

  He told me I was confusing him. That he didn’t know what I wanted from him. I told him I wanted nothing from him. He was free to do whatever he wanted.

  My choice was still and always would be Xavier, but it didn’t change the fact that I also loved Davian, that he would forever own a part of me. I loved Davian enough to not want to see him with anyone else. It was hard to explain. See, when I’d seen the magazine covers and gossip blogs with Xavier’s hookups, I’d felt a pang of hurt, for like an hour or so, and then I shrugged it off.

  With Davian, I had a completely different reaction each and every time. Jealousy, scorching hot jealousy burned through me, and I wanted to throw things. I wanted to fight him. Bite him. Punch him. Then kiss him and screw his brains out.

  It didn’t make any sense!

  Seeing him with other women was difficult, but he was right, I had no right to be jealous when I refused to take him back. No matter how hard he tried to manipulate me into taking him back, I rejected him. So why throw a hissy fit each time he hooked up with someone?

  “Ugh, my feet are killing me,” groused Sarah, an upcoming model I was doing the catalog shots with. She was a few years older than I was, super pretty and easy to get along with.

  We were on our third exhausting day in New York, and we just got back from shooting and stopped in at the fancy restaurant below our hotel to have dinner.

  “I say we boycott tomorrow and have a spa day instead,” Danni suggested, slurping down a glass of champagne.

  After signing a new contract with Lion, I’d hired Danni as my assistant, a position he’d ecstatically accepted, considering I offered him almost double what his usual jobs paid, and, of course, because working for me was way cooler. We were like kindred spirits and had mad fun wherever we went.

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Suggests the only one here who isn’t on a contract and actually doesn’t have to show up. You work for Alina. I’m sure she’ll give you the day off if you ask.”

  Head lowered as I dug around in my handbag for my cell phone, I muttered, “Danni can do whatever he wants. All I ask is that he answers the phone when I call him to get shit done.”

  More champagne slurping. “Oh, please. What’s a spa day without my favorite girl?”

  Huffing out a frustrated sigh, I asked, “Has either of you seen my cell phone? Check your bags; see if you packed it by accident.”

  After searching their belongings, they both shook their heads. “Maybe you forgot it at the set.”

  “I guess.” I shrugged and zipped up my bag.

  “Johnathon’s working late,” Danni offered, picking up his phone. “I’ll call and ask him to check for it.”

  Setting my handbag aside, I picked up my champagne flute, took a sip, and arched an eyebrow at Danni. “How do you know Johnathon’s working late? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Johnathon was the owner of the studio where we were shooting. He was in his mid-thirties and hot with a capital H, but a little on the effeminate side.

  “Cool your tits, Chica,” said Danni, “Johnathon’s straight.”

  “He is?” asked Sarah, genuinely shocked. “Dude, he watches you, like, all the time. He doesn’t seem straight to me at all.”

  “I noticed the same.” Taking another sip of champagne, I narrowed my gaze on him. “What are you hiding, Danni boy? Do I need to call Leo to go all possessive alpha-male on your ass?” I giggled. “Pun intended.”

  He opened his mouth, and then closed it. Opened it again, and as he was about to speak, his eyes caught something over my shoulder. What he saw made him smirk instead. “I’m thinking you have a bigger fish to fry.”

  Confounded, I turned in my chair to see what he was on about.

  Davian. Navigating around to a corner table, with Claire Sinclair on his arm. Yes, she was pretty. Yes, she was sexy. Yes, I wanted to claw her eyes out.

  A nineteen-year-old new-on-the-scene actress who starred in a new paranormal TV series. Rage pumped fists with jealousy and both back-flicked and dispersed in my veins. Drowning out every sensible thought, clouding my judgment, taking control of me.

  My glower followed them as he, gentleman that he wasn’t, pulled out her chair for her. He whispered something in her ear as his fingertips caressed the side of her neck, and she blushed and giggled as she lowered into the chair.

  “Oooh, you look like you’re about to blow, girl,” Danni commented.

  “Shut up.”

  Sarah looked confused. “So…you two are still together or something?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the pr—”

  Screeeeeech. Without thinking, I pushed back my chair, stood and marched over to Davian’s table.

  Too busy wooing his latest fling, he didn’t notice me coming. Not even when I stopped at their table and jutted my hip out with all the attitude in the world.

  “Where’s my son?” I demanded.

  At that, Davian’s head jerked up, surprised to see me. “Ally? What—”

  “My son,” I reiterated. “Where is he?”

  “He’s with Dad. I—”

  “Lied to me so you could run around with teenagers in New York?”

  “Stop it, Ally,” Davian gritted out, his pissed-as-hell face settling in place. Good. “You’re making a scene.”

  “Hang on,” piped in a bewildered Claire. “I thought you said you and her are over?”

  “We are,” we both hissed at the same time, glaring at each other.

  Claire glanced from Davian to me, from me to Davian. “Listen, I didn’t sign up for this drama. Work and school are stressing enough.” She pushed to her feet and picked up her purse. “I really like you, Hamilton. Call me when you are…untangled.”

  I watched her leave. Well, that was easy.

  Looking back to Davian, I smiled something sugary sweet. “I guess my work here is done.”

  He was fuming. “What?”

  Spinning on my heels, I started sauntering back to my table, grinning with victory.

  A screech of a chair. Determined footsteps. A growl of my name. A firm grip on my elbow, forcing me to the exit. “Oh no, you don’t.”

  “People are staring, Davi,” I told him. “Stop.”

  He hissed, “You started it.”

  “You’re the one who lied.”

  “I didn’t. I just delayed and flew here for a few days because Claire wanted—”

  “I don’t care what your whore wanted. I care about my son.”

  We stopped in front of the elevator outside the exit and he hit the call button. “So what if I’m a couple days late going home? Since when did you become mother of the year?”

  Running out of excuses for chasing off his date, because really, this wasn’t about Jacob. “Dave’s got a life, too, you know. You ever think about that?”

  “No, he doesn’t. Prime reason he jumps at any chance he gets to keep Jacob. And he’s not coughing about it, so why are you vomiting?”

  As the elevator doors opened, he released me and pushed me inside. Hard. My shoulder crashed to the wall, but I managed not to fall.

  When he walked in, I rushed up to him and chucked him back, hard enough so that he stumbled like I did.

  “That’s abuse!” I screamed at him.

  Catching himself, he punched a floor number. “No, what you did out there just now is abuse!”

  My eyes flicked at the floor number as the doors closed. He’d been staying at this hotel, too? “You were gonna screw what's-her-face in the same h
otel I’m in?”

  He stared at me like I was an asylum patient. “First off, I didn’t know you were staying here. Second, what the hell does it matter to you?! You don’t want me, remember? I. Am. Trying. To. Move. On. Why won’t you get the hell out of my way?”

  I had nothing to combat that argument, so I decide to combat him instead. I pushed him again. “You pushed me hard, Davi. I’m filing a report. I’ll pay for the camera footage if I have to.”

  He was livid. Undeterred, he pushed me back. “Stop pushing me! What is wrong with you, woman?”

  I chucked back. Harder. “You pushed me first, assface!”

  What was this, kindergarten?

  Davian moved forward to push me again, but then he stopped halfway and studied me, chewing his bottom lip. Shaking his head, he chuckled to himself. “How had I not figured it out sooner?”

  I backed up. “Figured what out?”

  Sidestepping, he reached out and yanked out the stop button. “Baby, you forgot I know you.” Then he was on me. His hands on my face. His tongue in my mouth. His weight pinning me to the cold steel.

  Oh God, yes. All the fight and anger evaporated as I opened up to him. My fingers clawed through his hair, tugging at the ends, moaning as he bit down hard on my bottom lip.

  Gripping a fistful of my hair, he jerked my head back and ravished my neck, rabid and feral.

  I ripped open his shirt. Buttons popped and pinged around us.

  “Jesus,” he whispered, mouth traveling down, kissing and sucking.

  I raked my nails across his chest, down his abs, hissing in sheer pleasure when he yanked the top of my dress down and devoured my breasts.

  Freeing his belt buckle, I unzipped his jeans and took him out, fisting his thick, hot heat, squeezing him, stroking him.

  Sucking air through his teeth, he hiked up my dress and dipped his fingers in my underwear, stroking my throbbing clit.

  “Yes, yes…” I moaned out loud.

  I pumped him harder as he flicked and rubbed my clit, pleasure building inside me, heightening.

  Abruptly, he withdrew his hand and hoisted my left leg in the crook of his arm, thrusting my hips toward his.