“I take that as a no.”
“God, no. What am I going to do?”
Daphne falls to the couch as if she’s exasperated by my messed-up life. “Let me see if I have this correct. You have a hot man with a dick that you miss and you’re worried about your dad?”
I shake my head. “Yes and no, but more no. If I tell my dad that I’m seeing this guy, he’s going to ask how it all came about. I can’t lie to him, and once I tell him the truth, he’s going to hate me, D. He’s never going to trust me again and I’ll likely lose my job.”
She turns and faces me, taking hold of my hand. “You’re doing the cock—” She stops when she sees my mouth drop open, and then she laughs. She’s had way too much to drink. “Sorry. I mean you’re seeing the guy this weekend, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s not uncommon for you to take off on weekends when you don’t have a patient. So I would just tell your dad that you ran into him over the weekend. He doesn’t have to know you’ve been having wet dreams about the guy since the day he showed up.”
I think about her suggestion and figure it’s the only one that will work. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if I lost my job, but I’d like to at least keep my father’s respect.
“Now tell me who he is.”
I bite my lip and look at her, finally sighing. “Bodhi McKnight.”
She shrieks and starts jumping up and down on my couch. Very juvenile, if you ask me.
“Holy shit, Kim. Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes, but you can’t say anything, D.”
“You fucked Bodhi McKnight?”
I nod. I haven’t told her yet about the day in the closet and my epic freak-out right afterward—I’m too embarrassed.
Daphne sits back and lets out a huge sigh. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“No, like really wow. Kim, you’re in a relationship with one of the hottest guys out there right now, and instead of being with him, you’re drinking cheap-ass wine with me!” She leans over and sets her hand on my forehead.
“What are you doing?” I growl, batting her hand away.
“Checking for a fever.”
I shake my head and take the empty wine bottle to my kitchen before popping the cork on another one.
“He asked me to be his girlfriend,” I say, sitting back down.
“You do know that he’s never had a serious girlfriend, right? Not even before Virtuous Paradox started. He dated, but he never called any of them his girlfriend.”
Shrugging, I pour us both some more wine. “After this week, he may change his mind about us. He lives a completely different life in Los Angeles. I don’t fit in there.”
“You must fit somewhere.”
“It’s rehab. I fear that’s our only connection.” I lean back into my couch and nurse my latest glass of wine. I want to shut my brain off, but it’s running a mile a minute with no end in sight.
“So was the sex good?”
“Daphne . . .”
“What? I’m your best friend and you’re dating Bodhi McKnight. Throw me a bone.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Fine. Each time we fooled around, I was the one who came on to him. I didn’t intend to have sex with him, but he turns me on and I couldn’t stop.”
“Did you do it in the barn?”
Shaking my head, I try to hide my smile. Every time I go into the closet in my office, I can vividly recall what we did in there. “The closet,” I say, bringing my glass to my lips. Her eyes widen and she holds her hand up for a high five. I give her one.
“I’m impressed.”
“Me too. Daphne, it was so fucking hot, it would’ve been a shame to waste the mood with some heavy petting. I’ve never done anything like that before, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“With Bodhi?”
I nod. “He’s dirty.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“He talks dirty. It turns me on. And the way he looks at me! I’m horny all the time when I’m around him.”
“Half the world is horny for him.”
“Yeah, don’t remind me.”
After Daphne falls asleep I think about calling Bodhi, but he needs his rest. What I try not to do is think about what he’s doing if he’s not sleeping. Are his friends over? Is he lying in bed watching TV? Is he thinking about me the same way I’m thinking about him?
It’s the middle of the night and I find myself sitting in front of my computer and Googling his name again. I have to know what I’m up against as far as his fans are concerned, and I realize that I could be lumped in with the crazies.
There are many fan sites dedicated to him, along with images of him with women. Lots and lots of women. I’m assuming most are from concerts and public appearances, and some I can tell are Photoshopped, but others look real. In fact, he looks like he’s enjoying himself. I remind myself that he was likely high when these were taken, so I shouldn’t worry, but I do.
Especially when I see the same woman pop up in most of the photos of him. They’re together a lot, and she’s either by his side or walking behind him. The captions call her Aspen Lawrence, and while some say she’s his girlfriend, others say that she works for him. I feel doubt start to set in. A lot of my worries are probably no different from those of anyone else entering into a new relationship, but because this relationship is with a famous man known for his looks, they feel different. I don’t know if I’m enough for Bodhi, or why he chose me.
And most importantly, did he fall for me only because we spent so much time together? I think back to his first night here, when he had his paranoid episode. He told me that he loved me, but there’s no way he meant it. I don’t believe in love at first sight. For him it was probably lust at first sight.
And it was lust at first sight for me too. I’m not gonna lie. Bodhi is walking, talking sex, and I let that get to me. I couldn’t resist him, even though I tried. I let my body dictate how I was going to react, my job be damned.
I stare at the image of Bodhi and Aspen and wonder if I have what he’s looking for in the long run. Will next week change things? Will he call me in a few days and tell me he’s busy and to come next weekend instead, only to blow me off the next time as well? I don’t have a hold on Bodhi; we barely know each other. By the looks of Aspen and the way she’s touching him, she knows him well.
Shutting off my computer, I pick up my phone and bring up the text I sent him earlier. Instead of texting, he called me back. That’s a good sign, at least in my book. But what’s he doing now? That’s what I have to know.
I’m thinking about you & hope everything is well on your first night home.
I send the text without rethinking it. I kept it professional and to the point. The dialogue bubble pops up, telling me that he’s writing back. I feel a slight sense of relief that he’s awake and not too busy to respond.
The reply includes a picture of his dick with the message We’re just in bed, thinking about you!
I can feel myself blush and I quickly turn my phone over, screen down. But a second later I turn it back over and look at the image again. It dawns on me that this is first time I’m seeing it up close.
I have a wicked thought, and text: How do I know that’s yours?
I sit back, trying not to giggle. I don’t want to wake Daphne—the last thing I feel like doing is sharing this with her, but if I wake her up by laughing, I know she’ll ask.
The next image to pop up is one of Bodhi. I sigh when I see his blue eyes looking back at me. He looks peaceful and happy, completely different from when he was first here. His hair is so much longer than when he arrived, and it sort of fans out over his pillow. And his smile . . . it warms my insides to see that grin beaming at me.
Does this help?
I smile to myself and text back, A little .
I’ve never gotten a text like Bodhi’s before. I guess it’s pretty normal as long as you trust the person receiving the message. My hea
rt soars knowing Bodhi trusts me like this.
My phone vibrates and another image is there. This time my mouth is hanging open and I’m left speechless. Bodhi is standing in front of a full-length mirror with his shirt off, showing me his amazing washboard abs and his . . . well, let’s just say I know why I had trouble walking after we had sex.
Better?
The best. You didn’t have to do that.
I don’t want you to forget me.
That’s never going to happen.
Good. Sweet dreams, my darling. Tomorrow we’ll make plans for you to come visit.
Good night.
I hold my phone against my chest and sigh. I’ve never been one for pet names, but each time he uses a new one for me, a piece of me starts to fall for him all over again. How can someone have this much of an effect on me so quickly? When I was a teenager I hated the insta-love my friends would feel, and I often told them they were foolish. Yet here I am falling for Bodhi as if tomorrow doesn’t exist.
It’s easy to imagine that when you spend every day with the same person, you can fall in love with them. Maybe that’s what this is. But if that’s the case, what happens when we don’t see each other nearly as often?
Seventeen
Bodhi
Waking up in my parents’ home is a peaceful experience. When I come downstairs, there’s soft music coming from somewhere in the house, and the smell of bacon and eggs greets me. My mother is out on our patio doing some sort of yoga. Seeing her like this reminds me of when I was little and I didn’t have a care in the world. It’s funny that we’re always eager to grow up but once we do, we don’t want to act like adults.
My mom must sense my presence because she turns, smiles, and waves before returning to her practice. Following my nose, I head into the kitchen to scarf down some home-cooked food. The food at Serenity Springs was okay, but it wasn’t anything to write home about.
No sooner do I sit down to eat when the doorbell rings. I wait to see if anyone from the staff will answer it, but when the sound chimes again, I reluctantly get up and make my way to the door.
I don’t mind seeing Carson and Brayden, but I’m mentally unprepared to talk with Rebel right now. Maybe she’s a trigger for all of this mess, a major reason I started snorting coke. I doubt it, but if I can lay blame, it’s going to be on her.
I open the door and extend my arm. “Welcome to chez McKnight.”
“You look better,” Rebel says as she strides past me and into the foyer. I’m getting a really weird vibe from her, something I can’t explain. I glance quickly at Bray and Carson, who are looking anywhere but at me. Fucking great—she’s here to kick me out of Virtuous Paradox for my colossal fuckup.
“Make yourselves at home.” I motion for everyone to sit down, and once they do, I grab the nearest chair and sit.
“So, you’re probably wondering why we’re here,” Rebel says.
You can say that again.
“I gave you all some time off after I realized that in my haste to get Virtuous Paradox out front I may have pushed a little too hard. Has it paid off? Yes, it has. The deals for merchandise, the tour invitations, and the requests to have you on shows have surpassed our expectations. I made stars out of the three of you.
“And now we have a lot of work to do. The label wants new music out yesterday, with a new album right after that. You’ll have appearances to make, events to attend. And, most importantly, you need to be back on top of the charts.”
As Rebel goes on, I feel my stress level rising. Maybe I’m not cut out for this industry. I’m not even twenty-four hours out of rehab and already I’m stressed out.
“You’re going to do all of this, plus try to live a normal life,” she says. Inwardly I scoff—there’s no way we can get all of that done and sleep six to eight hours a night. “The label doesn’t want any more incidents.” She looks directly at me, making sure that I know she’s referring to rehab.
“Our first order of business is to get the tracks laid down for the new song. Bodhi, I sent you the music. Did you learn it?”
I nod.
“Great. That’s the song you’ll perform at the awards show. You were each given a plus-one for that, by the way. I prefer that you don’t use it—it’s better that the women think you’re single. But if you do, make sure they’re models or something. The more photos of you out there, the better.” Rebel says a few more things before getting up and leaving the three of us in the living room. Once she’s out of sight, I breathe a sigh of relief.
My mom walks in all cheerful while the three of us look glum. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything as she makes her way to her bedroom. She probably doesn’t want to screw up her yoga high or anything with my melodramatic bullshit.
“My mom loves Maggie,” I say, breaking the ice. “Dad told me that you brought her over and my mom is smitten. I have no doubt that she’s going to be pressuring me for kids once she finds out I have a girlfriend.”
Their mouths drop open and I immediately realize my blunder. I should’ve worded things differently, but now that the cat’s out of the bag, I shrug it off.
“Details,” Carson says.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I sigh. “I met her at rehab, which by the way, if you have questions or whatever, ask me. I’m not going to lie to you guys. I started doing coke with Aspen and couldn’t stop, but I’m clean now and want to stay clean. I like this side of me better than the asshole I was. I had tried coke before and didn’t think anything of it, so when I did it again, I couldn’t stop. Then our schedule with the group started and I was exhausted, except when I was high, I could do anything, so I kept up the habit. I needed it to deal with everything and to stay awake.”
“I’m sorry, man,” Carson says. “What can I do to help?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Exhaustion, stress, and my desire to be the best are what led me to start. I have to watch those things. I know Rebel wants us to party and shit, but I can’t, not yet.”
“When Maggie’s around, I won’t even drink beer,” Brayden says.
I can’t help but laugh. We’re young and should be having fun, but instead we seem to have turned into a bunch of fuddy-duddies.
“Back to the woman. We want details!” Carson says.
A smile creeps onto my face. “Her name is Kimberly, and from the moment I saw her, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. She’s sweet, caring, and rocks my fucking world.”
“Damn, Bodhi, getting it done in rehab!” Brayden says admiringly.
I laugh but tell him, “Nah, it wasn’t like that, Bray. We have a connection. I’ve never met anyone else that I wanted to spend all my time with.”
“I’m happy for you, man,” Carson says, “but I have to ask—is it smart to get involved with someone from rehab? I mean isn’t she battling the same demons you are?”
“What? Oh, shit no. She works there. She’s like this one-on-one counselor.”
“Ooh,” they both say, showing signs of relief.
“Anyway, she has the power to destroy me and keep me clean at the same time.”
Carson sighs. “I know what you mean. My girl, the one I dated in high school, she made everything right in my world. When she bailed, I fucking fell apart. It’s been just casual sex since then, and sometimes not even on the regular.”
I find that hard to believe about Carson. Women fucking flock to him and kiss the ground he walks on.
“If she means that much to you, look her ass up. Show her what she’s missing,” I say as I get up to grab us some bottled water from the mini-fridge behind the bar. “People change when they get away from their parents.”
“Nah, I think she’s married and all that happy shit. I’m content with my music and the group here. We’re going to be busy, and the groupies will keep me entertained.”
Once again I’m shaking my head as I hand them each a bottle of water. “You don’t want to mess with those groupies. They could be married, and you d
on’t want to be that guy. Or they might be underage. And if you’re not double-wrapping your dick, they’ll end up pregnant.”
Brayden and Carson are laughing by the time I finish my diatribe. I realize how I must have sounded, and I start laughing too. “I’m sorry,” I chuckle, setting my bottle down. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Don’t worry,” Carson says. “I’m not going anywhere near a groupie.”
“But seriously, if you’re looking for love or pussy, you won’t have a problem finding either one.”
“Are you saying I’m good-looking, Bodhi?” Carson winks as Brayden and I laugh.
“Yeah, man, if I swung that way, we’d be getting it on.” I wink back. “Your ex-girlfriend, though, she doesn’t know what she’s missing. I say we write a song about her and send it to her.”
“Excellent idea,” Bray adds.
Carson doesn’t say anything, but the smile on his face tells me that he’s thinking about the idea.
We sit and talk about everything: rehab, chicks, and our music. I let it spill that Kimberly gave me a guitar and tried to teach me a few chords. Carson especially likes this and promises to spend some time teaching me how to play.
Rebel reappears with a few of the musicians who play with us. She’s barking orders, and her assistant is tagging along behind her, taking notes.
“I wonder if this is a mistake,” I mutter.
“You mean having rehearsals here?” Brayden asks.
“I mean jumping right back in. My doctor spoke a lot about triggers and staying away from what pushes you over the edge.” Standing, I move toward the floor-to-ceiling windows and gaze out at the pool. “Maybe I should leave the group.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” Brayden shouts, clearly taken aback.
“You’re fucking nuts,” Carson adds.
When I turn around, both guys are standing with their hands on their hips. Their expressions tell me that I’m in deep shit for even thinking of such a thing.
“We’re in this together, Bodhi. If you go, Virtuous Paradox doesn’t exist. I’m not going to let you fall back into the drugs. I’ll do what I can to help keep you on the straight and narrow.”
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