by Eden Summers
Shit.
Michelle pounced on him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He had no choice but to grab her hips to steady himself and fumbled backward until he stabilized her weight. She clung to him, her thighs gripping him tight, her hands running around his neck.
“Get the hell—” His words died under her lips, the clash of her mouth hard and unyielding against his. He jerked back and dropped his hands from her body, letting her fall to her feet. Cameras flashed, people cheered, and none of it penetrated the wild thump, thump, thump of his chest while he wondered how he would explain this to Gabi. “Mother fuc—”
“Now, now,” she whispered, placing a finger over his mouth. “Is that any way to greet your girlfriend?”
He stepped back, gaining distance to breathe. Mason strode toward them, his gaze darting from Michelle, then back to Blake. “Is this the ‘nothing’ you were talking about?”
There wasn’t a rock big enough for Blake to hide under. Everyone stared at him, photographers, fans, security, Mitch, Leah, Alana, and Sean. The final kick to the balls came when he caught Ryan’s scathing gaze. “Remind me not to let you near my wife.”
“Now this is the type of attention I was talking about,” Michelle purred, the side of her lips lifting in a menacing smile.
He wanted to throttle her. To wrap his hands around her neck and wring the life from her. She stepped into him, placing her hands on his chest. All he could do was stand there, too shocked to figure out how to handle the situation without making a bigger mess.
“Get the fuck away from me,” he growled under his breath.
“Oh, sweetie, the photos have already been taken. No point worrying about it now.” She rubbed her breasts against his body, and he cringed. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
He ignored the question, sidestepping her and continuing to the limo. All he could think of was Gabi. How she would react. What she would say. And how her beautiful face would contort in pain when she saw the inevitable photos.
“Blake, wait,” Michelle called over the bark of questions from fans.
He continued to walk in long strides across the tarmac, climbing into the waiting vehicle and pulling the door shut.
Inside, silence reigned, thick and uncomfortable.
“Gabi’s going to be devastated,” Alana whispered to Mitch, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Yeah. Gabi would be devastated. And the worst thing? Blake had a feeling this was only the beginning.
Gabi woke to the chime of her phone alarm and winced at her stiff neck and pounding head. She’d gone to bed early. Falling asleep every night worried about her relationship with Blake had paid a toll on her health and nothing seemed to lighten her mood. All she needed were answers. Some direction. A little insight.
She was stuck in limbo, not sure if the emotional distance he’d put between them was because of the issues he faced or simply because he didn’t know how to end things between them. Reaching for her phone on the bedside table, she silenced the alarm and frowned at all the notifications lining the top of her screen. Twitter, email, Facebook, missed calls, messages. All the icons stood side by side.
She flicked her finger over the screen and clicked the first notification—a text message from Tammy. Gabi call me asap, honey.
The missed calls came from her parents and…Tammy.
Yet again, nothing from Blake.
It was too early to return any calls so she navigated to Twitter and searched her favorite hashtags. #recklessbeat and #blakekennedy were all she bothered to follow, and today, the stream was alive with recent tweets.
#blakekennedy glad to see you back with Michie. That woman’s damn fine.
Her heart stuttered, and she sat up straight in bed. There had to be a mistake. Or maybe she was still asleep.
#blakekennedy goes BANG! Barely steps foot off the jet and already has a woman literally running for him. I bow to the master of p*ssy.
Gabi couldn’t breathe over the tightening of her throat. She skimmed down the Twitter feed, reading similar comments, most mentioning something between Blake and Michelle. Some included links to photos, and curiosity demanded she take a look, even though her mind begged her not to.
#RecklessBlake Heartbroken to see you reunite with Michelle at the airport. But happy for you both. Took this pic…
Her blood pounded loud in her ears while she clicked on the image link. In the next beat her chest constricted and she covered her mouth with a gasp. “Oh, Blake, what have you done?”
The photo showed a side view of him standing, his hands holding the slim waist of a woman, her legs around his hips, and his mouth against hers. Gabi knew instantly who it was. Her. Michelle Clarkson. Blake’s ex. Or what the Twitter feed now clarified as his new girlfriend.
Gabi dropped her phone, holding her knuckles against her lips to stop herself from throwing up.
He wouldn’t do this to her.
How could he do this to her?
She slid to the side of the mattress and placed her feet on the floor. He wouldn’t. Not Blake. Not after everything they’d shared. He had more decency than to play with her emotions.
So why hasn’t he contacted you?
Rationality taunted her, weighing her down. She didn’t want to think about that. If she did, she would lose the grip on her wavering restraint and fall into a place she couldn’t recover from.
Maybe this was the reason he’d been distant. Had he been playing Gabi for a fool? Or was Michelle the situation he wanted to sort out by himself? Yeah, it looked like he was sorting her out good and proper.
“Oh, god,” she choked.
Her phone vibrated on the bed, flashing with an incoming call. She froze, unsure what to do if Blake’s name was across the screen. Inching forward, she raised her chin and peered down.
Tammy.
Of course it wasn’t Blake. Another fist slammed through her chest. Even though she wouldn’t know what to say to him, she wanted him to care enough to call. Having his reunion with Michelle plastered all over the internet wouldn’t have escaped his notice. Or, oh god, what if he didn’t care?
Maybe he was too busy fucking the whore.
She ran for the bathroom and fell to her knees, heaving over the toilet. Her stomach clenched and bile choked her throat, yet nothing came out. Minutes passed with her head hanging limp, tears burning the back of her eyes. She needed to get ready for work: Shower. Dress. Eat—if she could force food over the sickness that consumed her.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t expected something like this. Blake had always been too good to be true. This was reality finally helping to open her eyes.
Pushing to her feet, she padded into her bedroom, grabbed her clothes off the dresser and went back to place them on the basin beside the shower. Her nose tingled, and she sniffed it away, refusing to cry. Tabloids thrived on creating gossip. This could be another celebrity scene blown out of proportion… Or was she weak and naïve for searching for unlikely excuses?
Stop! Blake’s mouth on another woman would never be acceptable for her, no matter what way the press spun the story.
With numb hands she turned on the taps and stepped under the shower’s spray. Rumors wouldn’t defeat her. No. She was stronger than that. They were stronger than that. Blake only arrived back in the US less than twelve hours ago, and if something as monumental as their relationship hung in the balance, she was sure his first priority would be to get in contact with her.
She closed her eyes and the Twitter image glared back at her from the darkness. He’d had his eyes open.
Blake had been kissing Michelle with his eyes open!
A glimmer of hope sparked to life in her dying heart. She straightened her posture and tilted her head back under the water. No man ever kissed a woman he cared about with his eyes open. It had to be a set-up. Blake was going to call her. She could feel it. He would call or email or Skype and explain everything.
She just needed to try harder to convince herself of that.
***
Blake pressed the channel button on his television remote again and again and again. He had no clue what played on the screen, but the action kept his hands busy and away from his cell phone. One day had passed since returning home, and all he’d done was hide from the world in his apartment.
“Have you called Gabi yet?” Mitch walked into the entertainment room, sat beside him on the leather couch, and handed over a can of soda.
Blake shook his head. He couldn’t call her. Listening to the hitch in her breath as he told her about Michelle would send him over the edge. And would she even believe him? This morning’s tabloids had described a heartfelt reunion between old lovers. Far from the seething, hate filled homecoming it had actually been. All he wanted was to make Gabi happy. To keep her bright eyes glinting and her gorgeous smile wide. He wanted to make her proud, yet everything he did was a disappointment.
He’d spent every waking moment praying she hadn’t seen the photos. It wasn’t a stretch to wish she hadn’t. The hype on Twitter and Facebook had grown and dissipated like a mini gossip whirlwind, however, the photos would always be on the internet if Gabi knew what to search for.
“She hasn’t called or emailed since I returned to the states, so I’m taking that as a good sign that she hasn’t seen the photos. And I told her I’d be out of contact for a while because I’ve got stuff to deal with, and she has work and school to keep her busy.”
“You need to call her.” Mitch cracked his can and rested back into the cushions. “Allie’s havin’ kittens worrying about her.”
Allie was having kittens? Blake let the stress and anger and fear take hold, allowing his blood to boil with annoyance, his heart to thump with pain. He slammed his soda can on the coffee table and threw the remote, watching it slide against the polished wood and fall to the carpeted floor. In a burst of uncontained emotion he pushed to his feet. “Allie needs to mind her own fucking business.”
He took two steps, beginning to pace, before he stopped. Shit. He’d finally lost his mind. His friends had been frantic planning their engagement party, yet Mitch continued to find time to stop by and check on him with Alana always sending food.
Blake ran his hands through his hair, pulling, trying to alleviate the emotional pain with physical. This needed to stop. He needed to take control of his life. Only every time he tried, he seemed to fuck it up more. It was time to come to terms with his future. He was going to lose Gabi, or his position in Reckless Beat. Or both.
Mitch cleared his throat and slowly Blake turned to meet his friend’s glare. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean—”
“To be such a dickwad?”
Blake inhaled a deep breath and swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Well, think yourself lucky that Alana didn’t hear it. I’d have to kick your ass. And although you deserve it, and I’d definitely enjoy it, you look like you’re suffering enough.”
Blake gave a half-hearted laugh. He did deserve a beat down. The pain of a few broken ribs would be a blessing in comparison to the turmoil that kept him up at night.
“What’s going on, Blake?” Mitch waved his hand lazily up and down in his direction. “This isn’t you. I don’t even know who this is anymore.”
The disappointment hit him square in the chest, almost causing him to stumble back. “Me either,” he whispered. He’d lost himself when Gabi went back to Queensland. Now he didn’t know how to find himself again. Not without her guidance. “I’m in trouble.”
Mitch raised a brow and leaned forward, placing his can on the coffee table. “What kind of trouble?”
Blake continued to pace. He had no idea where to start or if he should even reveal his past. There was too much to tell, too much to hide.
“If you need help, you know you only have to ask. Whatever it is, we can fix it.”
Blake scoffed. If only it were that easy. He knew once the skeletons were out, Mitch would look at him differently, and what would it achieve? There was nothing anyone could do. Yet he couldn’t take the pressure anymore. He needed to lean on someone.
He was such a weak prick.
“Are you into them both? Is that it? You’ve got a thing for Gabi and Michelle.”
Blake stopped dead. “No. Hell no. I don’t want anything to do with Michelle.”
“Then what’s with the drama? Just tell her to back off.”
Blake shuffled to the couch, sat, then leaned forward to place his head in his hands.
“You’re starting to worry me,” Mitch murmured. “I’ve got this ugly ass feeling in my gut, and the more you put off telling me, the more it freaks me out.”
Blake squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his mind. His head was confused, his heart too heavy. He couldn’t see past the image of Gabi, her eyes filled with tears, her mouth contorted in pain. He would do that to her. He would tear her apart.
“She’s blackmailing me.” He opened his eyes and straightened when the weight lifted from his shoulders.
“Blackmailing you?” Mitch drew out the words. “With what?”
Leaning back, Blake pulled his cell from his pocket, scrolled to his messages and clicked on the image Michelle had sent. He handed it to Mitch. A picture spoke a thousand words, which was convenient because Blake couldn’t utter a sound.
He waited, his chest growing tighter with every passing second that Mitch didn’t comment. The silence became deafening, ringing in his ears until the cell was handed back to him.
Damn it. Blake shouldn’t have dragged anyone else into the situation. It was his battle to fight, his fuck up to fix. It was weak and selfish to lay his troubles at anyone else’s feet.
He was about to open his mouth and beg Mitch to forget what he saw, when his friend’s voice broke the silence. “Tell me what I have to do to help you fix this.”
Two days had passed since the reunion gossip took over cyberspace. Maybe three. Gabi was too emotional to remember.
And still Blake hadn’t contacted her. Not by phone, or email, or Skype, or Twitter, or carrier pigeon. The more time that passed, the less heartbroken she became. Anger was now her best friend. Not even Alana could answer her emailed questions. It seemed Blake didn’t want to talk to anyone about his problem.
She’d plastered on a brave façade for what seemed like an eternity and faced her parents and friends head on, along with their questions of Blake’s fidelity.
“It’s a publicity stunt,” she’d answered to her mom and dad’s carefully worded enquiries.
“He’s going through some private issues back home that I can’t discuss,” she’d explained to Tammy. At least that hadn’t been a lie. She couldn’t discuss it with her friend because Gabi had no clue herself.
Everyone had glanced at her with sympathy, as if she was delusional. Perhaps she was. It seemed even more likely now that she sat in front of her laptop, poised on the brink of purchasing a one way ticket to New York.
On her way home from work yesterday, she’d driven past a billboard that announced the start of an international airlines major flight sale. Coincidence? Maybe. Fate being a conniving little bitch? Most definitely.
Overnight, Gabi had resigned herself to seeing Blake as soon as possible. Even if he called now and explained each of the thousand burning questions haunting her, it wouldn’t be enough. Her insecurities had gone past rational thinking days ago. She needed to see him. To read his expression and not quit pestering him until he caved and told her what the hell was going on.
She’d emailed her university lecturer and left a message for her boss. Neither one of them would be happy with her sudden disappearance, but it was only a matter of time before she ruined her grades or got fired in her current state of distress.
Everything came together nicely in her mind. Her passport was valid. She could pack her suitcase today, work tomorrow, and once her shift finished, she could take the last available flight to Sydney, waiting in the airport until her connecting flight to the US arrived.
> There.
Easy.
And the icing on the pathetic excuse for a twenty hour flight was the timing for Mitch and Alana’s engagement party. Yay me.
It seemed too irrational, even in her crazy state of mind, to spend her entire savings on the trip without speaking to Blake first. Pride had taunted her, demanding that she wait for him to make first contact, yet the appropriate time for him to do so had already passed. Yes, she needed to see him, but not if he planned on breaking up with her as soon as she arrived.
Before she could contemplate the outcome, Gabi reached for her phone and scrolled to his number. Even though the international call fee would send her broke, she pressed the button to connect.
With the first ring, her skin broke out in a sweat, and she wiped her damp palms on her pajamas. The fact that it was ten in the morning and she was still in her nightwear spoke volumes about her motivation, but that was the least of her problems.
The call connected and the split second of silence stopped her heart. The female’s voice that followed shattered it completely.
“Hello,” the woman said, her voice low and sleep-roughened.
“Uh…hello.” Gabi choked on her words.
A woman was answering Blake’s phone. A woman with a voice so husky it sounded like she’d been deep-throating for hours. With less thought than it took to make the call, Gabi pressed disconnect.
“Bloody hell!” She squeezed her phone and clenched her stomach at the emotions threatening to explode. “Argh!” A scream burst from her lips and her mobile went flying across the room. The loud crack when it hit the plasterboard made her crumple to the floor. She crawled on hands and knees to pick it up. “Please don’t be broken. Please don’t be broken. Please don’t be—Motherfucker!”
The screen was smashed, and a chunk of plastic was missing from the back, exposing the electronics inside. This was exactly what she needed—in a completely facetious sort of way.