by Kacey Shea
“They say ladies never kiss and tell, so for this time only, you can call me a chick.”
The DJ cackles and I tune him out, holding Bedo’s gaze in a stare down until the next question hits my ears.
“They say rock is a dying art, especially with so many of the greats passing away this year, and now with the news of Richie Sands. How do you feel about that? Where do you see rock music in the next ten to twenty years?”
Thankfully Austin answers, yammering on about how great music always survives and lives on.
My fingers can’t move fast enough across the screen of my phone. Going straight to the search bar, I type in Richie Sands, and find the breaking news stories. He’s dying. Cancer. And because I can’t find an official press release, I can’t know how much of this is true and what’s exaggerated. I only know that I have to get to Lexi before she sees this.
Bedo points at Austin, twirling his finger, a signal to wrap things up, and we finish the interview. I go through the motions, good-bye pleasantries and thank yous, but my heart isn’t in it. As soon as we are back in the SUV, I fire questions at our manager.
“Did you know? Is he really that sick? What’s the prognosis? Does Lexi know?”
“Whoa. Slow down, lover boy.” Bedo sets his phone on the seat while our driver navigates the route back to the stadium. “I’ve heard rumors for a while, but yeah, Richie Sands is dying. I don’t think he has long.”
“Did you know?” I turn to Iz because he’s more silent than usual.
“I heard rumors too. But you know how that goes, man.”
“Does she know?” My gaze bounces between the two.
Iz shrugs and Bedo picks up his phone, focused on his cell when he answers. “Your guess is as good as mine. Lori Mallory knows.”
“Her mom? How do you know that?”
Bedo holds his finger up, cutting me off to answer his ringing phone. “What’s the problem now? I told you to work out the pyrotechnics before tonight’s show. We’re six hours from go time. This isn’t child’s play.” He continues to go back and forth with whoever’s on the line for the rest of the ride.
My thoughts race as I search my memory for every conversation Lexi and I have shared—whether there’s a possibility she is already aware her father is dying, or if her mother hasn’t yet told her. And what kind of mother doesn’t tell her child something like that? I can’t come up with any indication Lexi knows, and my palms sweat, my nerves taking over. Goddamn, we just got together and now this, real life demolishing the carefully stacked trust we’ve been building. She’s stronger than any woman I know so I have to believe she’s tough enough to handle this. To not let it shake her. To shake us.
“It’ll be okay. Just tell her,” Sean suggests with a nudge to my shoulder.
I nod, acknowledging his words but not completely believing them. My leg bounces with nervous energy that only increases when the car pulls up alongside the tour bus.
“Hey! Don’t be late for sound check!” Bedo shouts after me, but I’m already out the door, running to the bus.
“Lexi!” I shout but find her exactly where I left her.
“Trent? You okay?” She sets down her acoustic and pushes up on her knees.
I drop to the foot of the bed. I can’t catch my breath. Fear. The fear of how this will hurt her consumes me, but I push the words from my mouth. “Lexi, I’m so sorry. I just heard the news.”
She crawls over to me and brushes her palm against the scruff of my cheek. “What? What’s going on?” She doesn’t know. Her eyes hold so much care and concern.
“About your father. Richie Sands. Lexi, he’s really sick.”
She pulls back, her hand leaves my face, and she straightens her spine where she sits. “Oh. Yeah. That.” She’s not at all surprised.
“Wait. You already know?”
“That he’s dying of cancer? Yeah.” She picks up her notebook and flips through a few pages. As if it’s no big deal. “Hey, I want to run this song by you.”
“How long have you known?” I rise and pace the length of the bed, unable to remain still as all that energy from before, the fear of how she’d take this news, courses through my veins again, but this time it’s fueled by irritation.
She blows out a rushed breath and slams her notebook shut, giving me her full attention. “For over a month. Why?”
I still my steps and throw my hands up to meet her indifferent stare. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
She blinks once, her jaw hard, and pins me with a glare. “Why would I tell you? Why would I tell anyone?” She’s pissed. Well, good. Because I am too.
“Because we’re together, Lex! That’s the kinda shit you’re supposed to share. I shouldn’t have to hear from celebrity gossip that your father’s on his deathbed.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Just stop. Okay, he’s a sperm donor. He’s no father. Not to me.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“No! Why would I want to do that?”
I don’t get it. How she can play this off like it doesn’t matter? Like it isn’t significant. But then again, maybe she doesn’t think it is. Maybe she doesn’t realize. Maybe only I do. If I had the chance to do it over, to say good-bye if only for a few minutes, I would jump on the opportunity. “Because he’s dying, Lexi. This is your last chance—”
“To what?” She cuts me off, standing from the bed, and her glare is so fierce I have the good sense to take a step back. “Spend time with someone who never gave a shit, who was a horrible father? No. I don’t think so.”
“I don’t want you to have any regrets. I really think you should consider—”
“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You want to play that and we’re done. I don’t need another relationship with someone who thinks they know best. I get enough of that from my mother.”
Fuck. Those are fighting words, given what I’ve witnessed from her mom. I throw up my hands and take a deep breath. “Hey. All I did was make a suggestion. I’m not telling you how to live your life.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, hardness etched in her stare. “From here, that’s exactly how it sounds.”
I tap my fingers along the sides of my pants. I imagine everything I want to do to convince her to change her mind. Talk through this rationally. Even throw her on the bed and fuck her until she lets go of that angry glare. But none of that would be helpful. That’s not what Lexi needs.
“I’m going to leave this room now and head to sound checks. Let you get ready for tonight’s show. You seem to be looking for a fight, Lexi, and I’m not gonna give it to you. We can talk about this later.” I grip the door handle and twist it open. My eyes never waver from her glare, and even though it guts me, I do what I think is best. “Or not. Up to you.”
I turn, shut the door behind me, and walk away from the woman I love. Not because I want to. Because she needs the space.
But I won’t give her more than a few hours.
32
Lexi
I don’t like being told what to do. It’s probably half the reason my mom and I constantly butt heads. That, and I’m stubborn as hell. But when Trent tried to caution me that I should contact my father, as if I somehow owed it to that sack of shit, the action felt suffocating. I’ve never been in a relationship, not one as intense as the one I share with Trent, but if this comes with the territory, I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. I won’t be made to feel badly about my decisions. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand.
And yet, he kinda does.
I’m so amped up, still angry during my show, but I throw that energy into my music, into my songs. The crowd cheers louder than ever, and I get lost in the short reprieve. It’s like therapy, being onstage. Gutting myself with my lyrics for all to see, yet healing in the process. When I’m finished with my set, Trent’s waiting for me. He catches me in his arms before I can stomp past, and holds me, pressing h
is lips against my forehead in a way that makes me feel like crying.
“My girlfriend’s a badass,” he whispers in my ear. Then he leaves me with a jumble of emotions as he joins the rest of the band to take their place onstage. I want to be angry. I want to be mad at him, but now I just feel like crap. Shoving my thoughts to the back of my mind, I hightail it out to the merch tables to meet with fans and sign autographs. It’s something I usually love, but tonight everything’s clouded with a haze of distaste. As soon as the crowd thins, I say good-bye to Jax and head backstage to wait for Trent.
As much as his earlier words irritate me, there’s an urge to be near him. To affirm our connection, and while I watch him onstage, I can’t help but get caught up in his charisma. He’s so damn talented—even though he can’t write a fucking word. A smile, genuine and true, graces my lips when he turns back to wink at me before he belts the lyrics to their final number.
We can work through this. I want to believe it. I’m determined to see where this goes. It’s not easy for me, giving so much of myself to someone who could have the power to break me—like my mother. But Trent is not my father, either. He’s proven it time and time again. And I’m not a groupie. What we have is special. It has to be.
He steps offstage and my body tightens with need. He’s bare-chested, having discarded his shirt sometime mid-show, and sweat covers every glorious inch of his skin. His strong legs swagger in those tight black pants, and his heavy boots come straight for me. He really is like a lion, moving with hypnotic purpose and that all alpha presence. Maybe that’s why he twists me up the way he does. I’ve never wanted to be caught until Trent worked his way into my life.
I run and jump into his arms before he can reach me, wrapping my legs around his taut waist. I don’t even care that his sweat soaks into the front of my shirt or that my fingers get all wet when I weave them into his hair and pull his lips to mine. We kiss, and it’s all I can do to not grind myself against him. I’m wet everywhere. We need a room. I don’t even want to wait until we get back to the bus. I want him now. Need him inside me.
“Trent! Come on, man. Lexi!” Austin shouts and we pull apart.
I’m not the only one whose chest heaves. Trent lowers me back to the ground and snakes his hand around my waist, pulls me to his side, and follows the rest of the band to the room set up for business associates and the fans who’ve finagled their way past the bouncers—including the super slutty groupies.
“We’ve got to say hi to Sean’s parents. Quickly, then it’s back to the bus, ’cause I need to hear you come.”
“Sean’s parents? I thought he was from Phoenix too?”
“That’s where we all met, but he only came out for school. He grew up all over. His dad moved a lot for work.”
“Gotcha.” I nod and straighten my shirt and skirt. I wish I had changed into something more conservative after my show. My fingers rake through my hair as I right it without help of a mirror.
“Lex?” Trent stops before we reach the door.
“Hmm?”
“You’re beautiful. Fucking gorgeous.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say when he compliments me so boldly.
“Sean’s parents are gonna love you. Because you’re funny, and smart, and also because you’ve reformed my whorish ways. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
I roll my eyes and laugh as he weaves my fingers through his. “I’m not good at meeting parents. I’m not a charmer like you. Can you imagine how bad I’ll freak when I meet your mom?” Crap. We haven’t talked much about what happens after this tour. Maybe I shouldn’t assume he wants to introduce me to his family. “Sorry, that’s if I meet your mom.”
Trent pauses and regards me with an amused grin.
“What?”
“Lexi, you’ve already met my mom.”
“No, I haven’t.” I pull my hand from his and place my hands on my hips. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember something as monumental as that.”
Trent laughs, his deep voice throaty and purely masculine. I have to focus on being irritated because my body’s ready to submit to whatever he wants.
“In the Hills when we first met. She lives with us. She let you in the house, I’m sure.”
“Wait, what? That was your mom?”
“Yeah. Who did you think she was?”
“I assumed she was an employee or something.” I shake my head because I can’t believe it, even though it makes sense. “Fuck. I feel stupid.”
“Why?”
“Because all this time I’ve been wondering about the woman who raised you . . . and I’ve already met her.”
He squeezes my hand and pulls my attention back to him, his eyes softening with his relaxed smile. “It’s good, right? Now there’s no pressure the next time you see her.”
“Ha! Nice try. Maybe less pressure, but last time it wasn’t a proper introduction. I was there to meet a band, not my boyfriend’s mom.” As soon as the words leave my lips his smile fades, his hand tightens around mine, and if his stare could set a fire, I’d go up in flames.
“You know how much it turns me on when you call me your boyfriend?” His gaze darts around the empty hall and at finding no one around, presses me against the block wall.
“How about you show me?”
A low growl erupts from his mouth before it covers mine. The rough wall scrapes against my back as he pushes closer and I melt into his kiss. He takes the lead, earning total control as his lips go from sweet to demanding. My pulse races when he pulls away. “Maybe we don’t need to meet Sean’s parents.”
Laughter escapes my belly and I attempt to tug him back to the door, but his feet are firmly planted. “Nice try, rock star, but you said this was important. Let’s go.”
“You’re more important to me, Lexi.” His words hold more weight than they should and his gaze lingers until my body feels flushed. He reaches out and pulls open the door with a roll of his eyes, then holds it wide with an easy smile. “Fine. Let’s hurry and do this so I can do you.”
I step in front of him, throwing him a better eye roll, and shake my head. “Such a romantic. How ever did I get so lucky?”
He walks behind me, his arm reaching around my waist to touch me. His soft chuckle at my ear covers my skin in gooseflesh. “Oh, but I’m the lucky one.”
The room is practically empty, the usual barrage of scantily clad women is absent, and I wonder if that’s Sean’s doing. Even Iz seems exceptionally lucid; the only thing between his lips is the vape I gave him. A few suits, probably sponsors or industry professionals, stand around to chat. Bedo waves as we pass. My nerves thrum through my fingers as we make our way across the room to Sean and his parents, but Trent holds me steady in his grip.
Sean’s smile is easy and his laughter contagious. His mom talks with the same joy, and her hands add non-stop animation to her words. His parents aren’t what I envisioned. Maybe that’s judgmental on my part, but they don’t seem to be two people with a rock star for a son. Mrs. Willis is only a few inches taller than me, and her silver hair is cut short, accentuating her full face. Dressed in a simple pink top and matching cardigan, and a floral patterned floor-length skirt, she appears ready to teach kindergarten, or maybe head to church. Mr. Willis is no more formal in his khaki slacks and short sleeve shirt, though he must be where Sean inherited his height. The two stand side by side, and when they laugh you can easily spot the resemblance. Mr. Willis’ mustache moves with his smile, and despite their conservative appearance, Sean’s parents can’t contain the pride for their son’s success in the music world.
“Mom, Dad,” Sean interrupts as soon as he catches my stare. “This is Lexi Marx.”
“Oh, honey, it’s so great to meet you.” Mrs. Willis pulls me into a tight squeeze before I can even say hello.
Sean winks, and a chuckle escapes his lips as they tug up with his smile. “Mom’s a hugger.”
“I am.” She releases me, but holds my stare with a wide smile.
“It is so lovely to meet you, Lexi. Sean’s told us so much about you. I’m so glad you’re on their bus, too. They need more women on this tour. I only hope they’ve been treating you with respect.” Her words flow in a bubbly, friendly effort, and I can’t help but return her smile.
I open my mouth to reply, and catch Sean’s wide eyes, as if he’s nervous.
Trent’s arm comes around my waist, his lips lower to my ear, and he whispers so only I can hear, “Sean’s worried you’re gonna rat him out about the panties.”
It’s all I can do to not burst into laughter, but I decide to put Sean’s fears to rest. “Oh, your son has been the perfect gentleman. It’s nice to meet you both.” I nod at his father.
“If he’s not, you best tell me, because he was raised right. I worry about him, though. All this pomp and circumstance can go to the ego.”
“Mom, stop.” Sean rubs a hand over his face but you can tell he’s not really irritated.
“What? Just because you’re grown, you think my job is done? I’m always your mama and I’ll still whoop your ass.”
Trent shakes with contained laughter, but I can’t hold back the giggle that escapes my lips.
Mrs. Willis turns back to me and for a second I think she might reprimand me for my outburst, but she surprises me again with her smile. “This boy was a little hell raiser, I tell you. When he was ten he snuck the keys to my Oldsmobile and took a joy ride!”
“Now, that’s a story I’ve gotta hear,” I respond.
Sean shakes his head, his grin permanently fixed on his face. “What can I say? Everyone else was driving; I wanted in on the action.”
“Your sisters were in college!” his mom yells.
Sean shrugs and the twinkle in his eyes hints at his deviant behavior. “I was paying attention when Dad gave them lessons. Not bad for my first time behind the wheel, considering.”
Mr. Willis shakes his head but Mrs. Willis slaps Sean’s arm.
“Don’t let him fool you,” she says to me before pinning him with a glare. “It would have gone better had you not taken out the neighbor’s mailbox, and Mr. Calloway’s dog.”