by RB Hilliard
“Not a good idea,” he sternly repeated. I sensed I was missing something.
“Why don’t you want me helping with the rehab?”
Letting out an exasperated huff, he said, “Grant wasn’t kidding. You don’t let shit go, do you?”
He was trying to evade and I didn’t understand why. Did he question my loyalty? “Seriously, Hank, I can help. Nancy was scared. I bet with the tiniest push she’ll spill the beans. I’ll call her. Or better yet, I could pay her a visit.”
“If you as much as look in Nancy’s direction, Grant will have my job, Mallory.” Realizing he’d said too much, he slammed his hands on the steering wheel and exclaimed, Fuck!”
He’d already tipped his hand, so I went in for the kill. “Why?”
“Drop it,” he warned.
“Not until you tell me why Grant doesn’t want me talking to Nancy.” His lack of response irritated me, and then it hit me. “Oh my God,” I whispered.
He whipped his head around and the Jeep swerved. When his eyes were back on the road, he said, “What?”
“He slept with her, didn’t he?”
“What? No, he just wants to protect you,” he stammered.
“You’re a horrible liar,” I accused.
He scowled. I decided to let it go, but I knew by the look in his eyes that I’d hit the nail on the head. Grant slept with the therapist at the rehab facility. All of the sudden I felt dirty. Thank goodness Hank’s phone rang, because I was pretty sure I was about to break down in tears. For the remainder of the drive I listened to my head phones while he dealt with business. I had myself marginally back together by the time we arrived in Raleigh.
* * *
Five hours later, after a visit to the copy store, an hour or so in the pharmacy, a call from my mother and a call from CiCi, we were back at the hotel and I was in a rotten mood. Our one minor accomplishment of the day was making copies of Grant’s records. The pharmacy was a bust. According to the pharmacist, each state has its own laws regarding prescription drug management. Being that we were in North Carolina and the script was written, filled and picked up in Texas, her hands were tied. She told us the pharmacy in Texas would have a record of who picked up the prescription, but would most likely require that Grant Hardy be there in person to obtain that information. Hank didn’t think a trip to Texas was in the cards for Grant in the foreseeable future, which meant we were stalled, again. I pretended to be busy checking emails while Hank called Grant to tell him about our strike out with the pharmacy. Luckily it went to voicemail and he hung up instead of leaving a message. My mind was working ninety to nothing. No matter how I spun it, I kept returning to the same thought. Grant slept with Chelle. Grant slept with Nancy. Grant slept with me. Grant obviously didn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. I was an idiot.
When Marcel stopped by to give me the fifteen minute warning, I told him I had a migraine and wouldn’t be attending the concert. Up to that point I’d been sitting on the sofa in a bath robe with wet hair eating a bowl of banana pudding, which I’d ordered using Grant’s name. I should have made it a steak dinner and a bottle of one of their finest wines. Luckily, Grant was already at the venue. According to Marcel, there was a problem with one of his guitars that needed tending to. I told myself I wasn’t disappointed, but I was. This morning things were good between us. Now, I didn’t know where we stood. Before Grant Hardy I was a secure, stable woman with an amazing job. Now I was a lying floozy who’d do anything for a buck, including sleep with her client.
While blow drying my hair I missed a text from Grant.
Where are you? I’m worried. Please call me.
By the time I saw it, the band was already on stage and I was deep into a show about the psychology behind hoarding.
Sometime in the middle of the night I felt the bed dip and Grant’s warmth envelope me. Instead of kicking him out, like I should have, I selfishly snuggled in and told myself I’d deal with it tomorrow.
I woke to the feel of lips pressed to the back of my neck. Chill bumps sprang up as he moved his way over to my ear and whispered, “Is your headache gone?” Like a splash of cold water, the spell was broken. I stiffened in his arms and he paused and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath and said, “I know about Nancy.” The second I spoke her name his lips and arms were gone. Tears beat at the back of my eyes. I knew if I blinked they would spill down my face and give me away.
“Just what is it you think you know about Nancy?” he quietly asked.
“I know you slept with her.”
“Okaaaay, and this upsets you because?”
Tilting my head so I could see his face, I said, “You’re kidding, right?” His hair was standing on end and he had that sexy five-o’clock shadow that all men got, but few looked good with.
“What do you want me to say? Nancy was a means to an end and nothing more.” He stated this like it was a business transaction.
“And Chelle?” I bit out.
“Chelle was…Chelle,” he shrugged. His flippant answer infuriated me.
Leaning forward, I hissed, “And what am I, Grant? Am I, too, just a means to an end?”
Hurt flashed in his eyes and in a whisper soft voice, he said, “You are special.” The sincerity of his words gripped my heart. “You see me, Mallory Scott, but you don’t realize that I also see you. I see a beautiful, wickedly smart woman who makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. I also see that you are scared, of what I’m not quite sure, but I plan to find out.” I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off, “Look, I’m not a saint and I’m not going to pretend I don’t have a past. We all have pasts. Nancy was a bad idea. I thought I could coax her into telling me things about Whitfield and I was wrong. As for Chelle, she knew the score. She chose to ignore it. That’s on her, not me.” Sliding his hands under my legs, he pulled me closer and touched his mouth to mine. “Now, as for you –”
I didn’t want to hear it. On the coattails of two exceptionally crappy explanations whatever he had to say about us would sound trite. I felt many things for Grant Erwin Hardy but none of them were trite, so before he could get the words out, I placed my hands on his lips and said, “Don’t. You don’t need to define it. In fact, please don’t. Just…let it go, okay?” He studied my face for a minute before relenting and, boy-oh-boy, did he relent, as did I.
An hour later we were in the shower. Grant had me pinned against the wall and I was watching him slowly slide in and out of my body. It was one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced. I wasn’t sure how he had the strength to hold me up and still do the things he was doing and I really didn’t care. With each stroke I could feel my orgasm building. It was going to be bigger and better than the one he’d just given me on the bed.
“Grant,” I gasped.
“You close?” he growled.
“Yes,” I frantically nodded. I could feel the tingles at the base of my spine, so I knew I was seconds away from exploding.
Instead of bringing it home, he slowed down his pace and said, “Good, now tell me you’re mine.”
“What?”
“Tell-me-you’re-mine,” he ground out between painfully slow thrusts. I kicked my heels against his ass in a bucking bronco like fashion and he laughed.
“I was so close,” I whined against his neck.
“Tell me you’re mine and I promise to finish you off.” What he was asking was a big deal. Once the words left my mouth I wouldn’t be able to take them back.
I pulled back far enough to look him in the eyes, and asked, “And are you mine?”
“Do you want me to be?”
“What if I do?” I challenged.
“Then the answer is yes. Now it’s your turn.” Throughout the discussion he’d maintained a steady rhythmic momentum. I was impressed, not to mention incredibly aroused.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath. Then I opened them back up and took the biggest leap of my life.
“If you’re mine, then I’m yours.” As promised, he delivered the most amazing orgasm ever.
Later, I told him about my day over burgers. That’s when he let slip about the three day break they had coming between the Pennsylvania and New York shows.
“We can fly to Houston, first. I’ll have someone drop us a car there and we can drive to Austin.”
“Grant, I’d love to but you know I can’t. Take Hank with you. He’ll know how to navigate things with the pharmacist.”
“Why can’t you?”
“I’m already in enough trouble with Blane. You’re asking me to rub salt in a wound and to expect it not to burn.”
He wrapped his arms around me and said, “Let’s think logically about this. Luke already outed you to Chelle and her friends as my girlfriend. After the Charlotte show we had photographers shooting pictures of us together, remember?” I’d completely forgotten about the photographers. “It’s only a matter of time before the world links us together. I say we use it to our advantage.”
“Your advantage is going to get me fired.”
“Let’s say it does. You were hired to rehabilitate me, right?”
Not sure where he was going, I hesitantly answered, “Yes.”
“Does it matter who you work for as long as you’re successful and your practice gets paid?”
Excitement started to build. “I’m not sure. I’d have to check with CiCi, but I don’t think so.” I flipped around in his arms and stared at him. “You would do that for me?”
“I would.”
“What if you change your mind? What if you meet someone? What if I make you really angry?”
He laughed. “My mind is made up, I only want you and you already make me angry on a regular basis.”
“Why me?”
“Don’t do that,” he angrily replied. “You are the least insecure woman I know, so don’t do…that.”
“There are things you don’t know about me.” I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell him, but I was certainly going to warn him.
“And there are things you don’t know about me. That’s what a relationship is. It’s learning both the good and bad shit about each other, right?” After thinking it over, I realized he was right. If I wanted it, which I did, I was going to have to be okay with it. He was offering me a safety net. I’d be crazy not to jump. I was many things, but crazy wasn’t one of them.
“Okay,” I told him.
“Okay?” he repeated with a big smile on his face.
I answered him with a deep kiss.
Chapter Twenty-One
Happenstance Happens
Grant
Eleven Days Later
“I’m shocked Kirkland offered us the jet. CiCi flies on jets all the time, but this is my first time on one. I didn’t realize how small a private plane was in comparison to a commercial one.” I could tell by her chatter Mallory was nervous. It was cute. Then again, everything about Mallory Scott was cute.
“I take it you don’t like flying?” Nash asked.
“I prefer being the one in control,” she responded. Hank cut his eyes to me while I stifled a laugh. Nash didn’t bother to hide his humor. Yes, Mallory was definitely a control freak, but then again, so was I.
After we left Raleigh, the tour hit Virginia. Chaz’s song continued to do well, but Never the Same was an overnight hit. It wasn’t until Blane showed up in Richmond with news that we were going into the studio to cut it as a single that we realized how big of a success it really was. Nash and I’d discussed putting it on an album on more than one occasion, but had yet to do it. When Blane told us we were going to record it, we all agreed it would be perfect as a single. Well, almost all of us. I felt bad for Chaz. Not bad enough to pass on such an incredible opportunity, but still bad.
Blane pushed for a rush in the studio. He wanted the song released while we were on tour. So, while we busted our asses recording by day, we spent our nights playing to full stadiums. During those three days I spent almost every waking moment with Nash and saw very little of Mallory. Even though I was doing what made me happy, I missed her. I missed her enough to know that things were going to have to change if I wanted to keep her in my life. Luke and Chaz joined us in the studio for some of the time, but primarily it was Nash and me. During recording breaks we played poker or talked. It was the most we’d been together since right before Dale died and we needed the time to figure shit out. What happened to Dale was fucked up. After his death we had no choice but to move on, but we never really talked about the impact it had on us. At the end of the day, each of us played a part in Dale’s downfall. As for Chaz, it wasn’t his fault he wasn’t Dale. Dale was special. Chaz just happened to step into an impossible pair of shoes to fill. It was time we stopped being disappointed at him for falling short.
Nash wasn’t the only score I needed to settle. Blane was back from his business trip and still acting as if he was in control. Something had to give. From the moment Meltdown signed with Happenstance, Blane had been there for us. Having him in the studio again, felt like old times, yet it wasn’t real. Yes, I was angry with him for how he’d treated Mallory, but I no longer wanted to hurt him. I just wanted to talk, to explain how things were going to be from here on out and to see where he stood on the matter. Finally, after day three of recording, we had our little chat. Or should I say, I chatted. Blane mainly listened with a disapproving scowl on his face, especially when I spoke to him about Mallory. I was pretty sure he hadn’t ratted us out to his father at this point, but I wanted to make sure he understood what would happen if he did. I told him if Kirkland fired Mallory, I would cause a shit storm so big it would take the two of them the rest of their lives to dig out from under it.
“We hired Mallory to rehab you, not sleep with you,” he stated in his holier than thou fashion. His head was so far up his ass about Mallory that he was failing to see the bigger picture. I got it. He was pissed and nursing a bruised ego. Well, bruised ego or not, he needed to either find a way past it or move the fuck on.
“You hired Mallory under false pretenses after you sent me to rehab under false pretenses. I’m not sure if you realize this, but more than one law was broken here, Blane.”
“You were so messed up that you fell off a stage and almost died. W-we had no choice,” he sputtered.
“I see your father now has you drinking the Kool-Aid. Let me guess, Kirkland told you he’d let you have Happenstance back for a price. Has he given you the number, yet? His lack of response was answer enough. “Let me ask you this, do you want all of this back bad enough to compromise everything you worked so hard to achieve? Happenstance was yours, not his. So what if you fucked up and he saved you? At what cost? We both know someone drugged me that night and we both know who that someone was. I don’t know about you, but I sure am sick of this fucked up head game your father is playing.”
His eyes dropped to the floor. I wasn’t sure if it was guilt or shame he was feeling. “I had nothing to do with what happened that night,” he quietly said.
“Tell me, was it really Chaz who tipped you off to search my room that night, or was it your father?” His shoulders slumped and he reminded me of a scolded puppy. Suddenly I wasn’t angry anymore. I was sad. Sad, disgusted and fed the fuck up with it all.
I shook my head. “Don’t do this, Blane. Trust me when I tell you you’re backing the wrong horse. Don’t let Kirkland make a bigger fool of you than he already has.”
When his head shot up and he gave me a defiant glare, I almost cheered. This was the Blane I knew and respected, not the pussy he’d become. “He’s my father. He didn’t have to bail me out. He could have left me to face it on my own, but he didn’t.”
“Did you ask me to help? Did you ask Nash or Luke?” I hated to whip a dog when it was down, but I needed him to understand he had better options. When he failed to answer, I continued. “I didn’t think so. He’s your father, but unlike you, he doesn’t have an honorable or decent bone in his body. Let me just say
this, when we take him down, which is going to happen, I’d hate for you to get caught in the crossfire, especially if you’re truly innocent in all of this. Not only am I taking him down, but I’m taking over Happenstance in the process. I’d like for you to be a part of it. The guys are backing me on this decision. That includes Hank and his team, as well as Marcy and the PR crew. With or without you it’s going to happen.”
His eyes bugged in surprise. “What? But how? When?”
“You let me worry about the logistics. All you need to do is decide whether or not you want to be a part of it. Remember, though, if you’re not for us then you’re against us.”
After a long pause he asked, “What would you have me do?” His wary tone let me know he wasn’t a hundred percent sure, which meant we still might lose him. Then again, maybe he’d surprise us.
“Run interference with Kirkland for me. Help me get answers. Make sure he doesn’t fire Mallory.”
Nine days passed and Blane still hadn’t come through for me. Mallory hadn’t been fired either. In fact, the tabloids were beginning to buzz with tales about a relationship brewing and Kirkland had not said word one about it. When Nash, Mallory, Hank and I put in our travel plans with Marcy, he even offered to loan us the company jet. I didn’t trust him, but I took him up on his offer.
* * *
Mallory’s gaze drifted from Hank to Nash and then over to me. She smiled and I felt it to the depths of my soul. The past eleven days hadn’t just been good for the band. It had also been good for my relationship with Mallory. At least I liked to think of it as a relationship. She did, after all, confess under sexual duress that she was mine. Since then, I’d made her confess it several more times, all while naked and wet for me. I was still waiting for the moment when she said it on her own, but realized that might take a while. I’d never felt it before, but I was pretty damn sure this was love and, even though she wouldn’t admit it, I was pretty damn sure she felt it too.
After my talk with Blane, I had a similar talk with the guys. We’d experienced a lot together and they’d seen me in ways that no one ever had, but times were changing. I was changing. I needed them to understand this. I also needed for them to stop discussing my past conquests in front of Mallory. After a lot of bitching and a bribe or two, they finally agreed. Ever since then things had been better.