Westside Series Box Set

by Monica Alexander

  “Who? What are we looking at?” Dillon asked me.

  He seemed a little buzzed. I was sort of jealous of his inebriated state, considering I’d been stone cold sober while dealing with everything that had transpired with Elisa. Not fun. Not fun at all.

  “Him,” I said, gesturing toward the bar.

  From my vantage point, I could clearly see the guy Elisa had picked over me. I’d seen him before but had no clue who he was and if he worked for us or Trick Shot. I just knew he looked familiar, and she looked interested in him. It was irritating.

  “Who? Jamie?” Dillon asked.

  “I don’t know,” I snapped at him. “Who the fuck is Jamie?”

  “Him,” Dillon said, pointing to the douche in the hoodie who Elisa was laughing with and leaning into. “He works for Trick Shot. He’s a nice guy.”

  “I’m sure he’s a fucking gem,” I said sarcastically.

  Next to me Phillip laughed, and I thought I caught of whiff of something sweet on his breath.

  I turned to him. “Were you drinking tonight?”

  “No.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you lying?”

  We had a rule about not lying to each other. I hated lying, and I hated when my friends did it.

  He hesitated before saying, “Okay, fine. I had two shots of Patron.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He waved me off. “It’s fine. Alcohol was never my problem. It was everything else that was my downfall. I’m good.”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to be using at all?” I questioned.

  Phillip rolled his eyes. “Who are you, my sponsor? I’m fine, Van. Let it go.”

  “But what if this leads to harder stuff?”

  “Let it go, Van,” Phillip said more insistently. “I’m not even drunk. And if you keep this shit up, I’ll go into the bar and tell Elisa that you’re in love with her and have been spying on her like a creeper for the past however long you’ve been out here.”

  “Fuck you. I’m not in love with her,” I snapped at him.

  “Sure, you’re not,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’m going to bed. See you assholes tomorrow.”

  I glared at his back as he turned away from us. “Don’t drink anymore.”

  “Yes, Dad,” he said, waving me off as he started to walk away.

  I fell against the back of the couch in a huff, all of my energy leaving me. Maybe I should have followed Phillip to bed. The last thing I wanted was to see Elisa go any further with this guy – Jamie. He was a jackass, and I hated him. I didn’t care how ‘nice’ he was. He had what I wanted, and that made me feel like shit.

  “Have you told her how you feel?” Dillon asked me.

  “No,” I grumbled as I crossed my arms over my chest.

  I didn’t even bother refuting his statement. It was fairly obvious to everyone how I felt about Elisa at that point.

  “Why not?”

  “I mean, I sort of did, I guess, but not really. I told her she was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I sung her a song. She told me to go away. That’s all she ever tells me.”

  “You sung her a song?” Dillon asked in disbelief.

  “Yes,” I said, suddenly feeling like a moron for having done it. It was sort of at the height of the douchebagery scale, considering what I did for a living. I never wanted to be one of those cheesy musicians who serenaded girls. When I was on stage, it was one thing, but any other time, it was just a weird gesture.

  “Which song?”

  “Wrong by The Airborne Toxic Event. I was trying to say I was sorry.”

  Dillon couldn’t hold back his laughter, which only made me glare at him. I hated feeling stupid, and in that moment I felt like a supreme jackass. He was only making it worse.

  “Did it work?” he asked when he stopped laughing long enough to articulate words.

  “No,” I grumbled. “She’s never going to forgive me.”

  “So move on,” he said, as if it were that simple.

  “I don’t want to,” I said, sounding like a petulant child.

  “I don’t think you have a choice, man. She’s obviously interested in someone else,” Dillon said, gesturing toward the bar.

  I had the urge to barge in there caveman style and shove Jamie off of his barstool while claiming that Elisa was mine. But she wasn’t mine, and she hadn’t been for a long time. I’d lost her, and it was completely apparent just how far I’d sunk before I realized that sad fact. Earlier in the night I’d had hope. I no longer had that.

  “This sucks,” I grumbled.

  Dillon patted my shoulder. “I know it does. I’m sorry, man.”

  I shook my head. “Fuck this. I’m going to bed.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Dillon said, getting to his feet.

  We walked side by side to the elevators, Tommy trailing behind us. Somewhere between the lobby and the top floor, I made the decision to invite Blair to Mexico. I’d tell her to bring a friend for Phillip. I needed to get over Elisa, and there was only one way I knew to do that. It wasn’t going to be easy, but maybe Blair would help me forget for a little while.

  Chapter Ten

  Elisa

  “What do you think of this?” I asked my sister, holding up a printed romper.

  She looked back and shrugged. “It’s alright.”

  “I think it’s cute.”

  “So try it on,” she said, with just a touch of bite in her tone.

  I’d noticed that she’d been teetering on the edge of irritated all afternoon, and I wasn’t sure if it was still the exhaustion she’d been feeling a few days ago or if it was something else.

  “I will.”

  I turned around and continued perusing the racks, but I didn’t see anything else I wanted to get. I noticed Amy had two dresses slung over her arm.

  “Are you ready to go to try stuff on?” I asked her.

  She nodded as she aimlessly sorted through the rack in front of her. “Sure.”

  I sighed, trying not to get annoyed with her, but this was supposed to be a fun afternoon. It hadn’t exactly felt that way so far.

  “So, you’re just home for a week?” she asked me as we walked to the back of the store.

  “Yup.”

  “And you have to work even though the band has time off?”

  “I do,” I said as I stepped into one of the dressing rooms and turned to face her. “Do you want to share?”

  Amy shook her head. “No, they’re small. I’ll take the one next to you.”

  “Okay, but come out when you’re dressed. I want to see what those look like.”

  “They’re going to look like dresses,” she said sarcastically.

  “I’m sorry, were you under the assumption that you were shopping with Mom?”

  “No,” she said, looking at me like I was crazy.

  “Good,” I said haughtily. “Remember that the next time you act bitchy. I didn’t do anything to you. I’m sorry you’re not having fun. We can go after this.”

  Amy looked offended when I said that. “But we were supposed to shop all afternoon. You promised me Pinkberry.”

  “That was before you decided to be an unpleasant shopping companion. I get that you’re busy, but I was looking forward to a fun afternoon with my sister.”

  She sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “No, not really. It’s just the same old stuff.”

  “Then can I expect an attitude adjustment from you?”

  She smiled, and even though it looked a little forced, I took it as a good sign. “Yes, I’ll be better. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry. Just don’t be crabby.”

  That made her smile even wider. “Now you really sound like Mom.”

  “I do not!” I admonished, even though I realized too late that I’d used one of our mother’s infamous lines. It definitely hadn’t been inte
ntional. “Oh, God, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Amy giggled she as stepped into her dressing room and let the curtain fall closed. I did the same.

  “I’ll come out to model for you,” she said, sounding more like herself.

  “Great, I can’t wait to see the pink one on you. I think it’s going to be cute.”

  “I hope so. It’s not really fair, you know,” she said as I pulled off my jeans.

  “What’s not fair?”

  “That you have to work and the guys are getting a vacation. Aren’t you working just as hard as they are? Don’t you deserve time off too?”

  I laughed. “Sometimes I think I work harder than them, but that’s beside the point. They’re the talent. They get time off. I still have to pay my bills, so I get to work. I do have Thursday and Friday off, though.”

  “Well that’s not so bad. What are you going to do?”

  “Keri and I are going to hang out on the beach at Sydney’s house.”

  “Nice. I love that you have a friend with a private beach. I wish I could come.”

  “You can, and you should.”

  She sighed. “I have to study.”

  “Can’t you study in a beach chair just the same as in a regular chair?”

  “I guess so. Okay, maybe I’ll do that.”

  “Good, I’d love to spend more time with you.”

  “Me too, considering I’m not going to see you for months.”

  “You’ll see me at Adrienne and CJ’s wedding in a few weeks,” I reminded her.

  My friend Adrienne had grown up down the street from us and we’d been friends for fifteen years. Amy had been friends with her little sister, Mackenzie for just as long. Although I didn’t see Adrienne as much anymore since we were both so busy, I was going to her wedding in May. I was lucky that the tour schedule gave me two days off to fly back to L.A. to attend the event.

  “That’s right. I forgot about that. Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Me too,” I said, as I pushed the curtain to the side and stepped out.

  “I love this dress,” Amy gushed from inside her dressing room. “I’m totally wearing it to the wedding.”

  I smiled as she stepped out. “So are you planning on bringing Troy?”

  “I think so,” she said, shrugging casually, her arms crossed over her chest

  She didn’t sound all that excited about the prospect of bringing her new boyfriend to a big event. I would have figured she’d have wanted to show him off, but maybe not.

  “That looks really cute on you,” she said before I could question why she didn’t want to bring Troy to the wedding when she seemed so in love with him already. “You should definitely get it.”

  I smiled. “I will. Now let me see yours. Unfold your arms.”

  Amy looked reluctant for a few seconds, and then she let her arms fall to her sides. The dressed looked great on her; light pink, strapless, simple. It was beautiful. As I lifted my eyes to tell her that, though, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a nasty bruise on her arm.

  “What happened there?” I asked her, hoping I wasn’t seeing what I thought was a pained look in her eyes.

  The look vanished before I could dwell on it, and she laughed lightly and rolled her eyes. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m such a klutz. I fell in Troy’s kitchen last night.”

  She didn’t sound very convincing to me, and I narrowed my eyes at her lame excuse as I leaned closer to her upper arm. My eyes got wide when the shape of the bruise became familiar to me.

  “That’s a handprint,” I said, reaching out to wrap my hand around her arm over the shape of the bruise.

  My hands were smaller, but I thought the shape was right. It was hard to tell for sure, though, since Amy shrugged me off as soon as I touched her.

  “Get off me,” she snapped, angling her body away from me.

  “Amy, is that a handprint?” I asked, because she still hadn’t answered me.

  “Yes,” she said, sounding annoyed that I was asking.

  I straightened up and tried to look her in the eye, but she wouldn’t meet my gaze.

  “What happened?” I asked as my heart started to pound faster. Conjured image after conjured image floated through my brain as I waited for her to tell me what I was afraid of hearing.

  “I told you. I fell.”

  “Bullshit. That’s a handprint. Nothing else made that bruise.”

  Was Troy hurting my sister? I was going to kill him if he was. I’d rip his arms off and beat him with them if he’d laid a hand on her.

  “Well, yeah,” Amy said, like it was no big deal. “I tripped, and Troy grabbed me before I face-planted on the hardwood floor. Had he not done that, I might look worse than this.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” she said, suddenly sounding so much surer of her story.

  “What did you trip over?”

  “His dog.”

  “His dog?”

  “Yes, he has a chocolate lab – brown dog, brown floors, I didn’t see her laying there,” she said, shrugging. “I fell, and Troy grabbed me.”

  “And you’re sure that’s what happened.”

  “Well, I was there, wasn’t I?”

  “I know you were there. I’m just making sure something else isn’t happening.”

  “Like what?”

  “Has Troy ever hurt you, Amy?”

  Her eyes got wide. “I cannot believe you just asked me that. No, he’s never hurt me. He loves me.”

  “Okay, well that’s good.”

  “Geez, Elisa. Protective much? I can take care of myself.”

  “I never said you couldn’t.”

  “You basically did,” she accused. “And you should know that I definitely wouldn’t be with Troy if he was hitting me. I’m not an idiot.”

  “I didn’t mean–”

  “Is everything okay back here, ladies?” I heard from behind me and turned to see the girl who’d introduced herself to us when we’d walked into the boutique.

  I had a feeling we’d either been in the dressing rooms for too long, or we were being too loud.

  “We’re fine,” Amy told her firmly.

  “Can I get you any other sizes?”

  “I’m good,” I told her.

  “Me too,” Amy said, and then she disappeared into the dressing room.

  “Great, well, let me know if you need anything,” the girl said.

  “We will,” I told her.

  I went back into the dressing room to change clothes. When I emerged, Amy was standing there with the two dresses over her arm.

  “You didn’t want to try the other one on?” I asked her.

  She shrugged. “They’re the same size and are made by the same designer. I’m sure they fit the same. I’ll just get them both. You can drop me off at the house after we’re done here.”

  “Really? But I thought you wanted Pinkberry.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Amy, don’t be mad. I panicked. I don’t know Troy, and I thought the worst.”

  “Well, maybe you should get to know him before you accuse him of being a domestic abuser, Elisa. He’s not that kind of guy. He’s really sweet.”

  “I’m sorry,” I told her. “I really am.”

  “I’m sure you are. But just because your love life sucks doesn’t mean you have to take it out on mine,” she said as she pushed past me.

  I felt my jaw fall open, shocked that she’d accused me of bashing her relationship because I had a shitty love life. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t have a love life – by choice – but it felt like a fruitless argument. It had nothing to do with why I’d said what I had. She had to know that I’d never do anything to her out of spite. I’d been genuinely concerned, but I wasn’t sure she was in a place to believe me even if I tried to argue my stance.

  Instead of saying anything, I followed her to the cash register and waited in silence while she bought her dresses. The walk to the car and the ride to her sorority h
ouse were just as silent, and I was afraid we were going to leave things as they were. I hated that thought, knowing that because I had to go back on the road, it would be a few weeks before I’d see her again.

  Fighting with my sister was one of my least favorite things to do, and luckily we didn’t fight much, but apparently I’d hit a sore spot this time. I didn’t want her to walk away angry.

  “Will I see you at the beach later in the week?” I asked her as she got out of my car with very little fanfare.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “I’m sorry, Ames. I really am.”

  “I know,” she said as she closed the door and turned away from me.

  With a heavy heart, I watched her walk to the front door and disappear inside the house. After sitting there for a few minutes, I realized she wasn’t going to come back out and forgive me, so I left and drove across town to my apartment in West Hollywood, hoping I’d get to see her again before I left town.

  She finally called me on Friday, after making me wait almost five days, not knowing how upset she was and when she might forgive me. We talked for a good hour. Things had been a little strained at first, but by the end of our conversation, it felt like we were almost back to normal. She still seemed more irritable than usual, but I tried not to read too much into it, hoping her mood was related to school and not me.

  When we’d said goodbye, I told her I would call her in a few days to see how she was. Not being able to see her as much as I wanted was hard when I was on the road. My urge to fix her problems, like I had when she was little, was stronger when I was away from her. I tried to remind myself that she was an adult, but it was hard. To me she’d always be my little sister.

  * * *

  “Back to it,” Keri said with a sigh as the door to our tour bus opened in front of us.

  After a week away from the tour, it sort of felt like we’d never left. Our time at home had flown by. Despite everything that had happened with my sister and the fact that I’d still had to work half the week, it had been nice to have time off from touring, to not live out of a suitcase, and to sleep in my own bed. Now that we were back, it sort of felt like we’d never left.