[Off Track Records 01.0] Detour

by Kacey Shea

  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 his 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.”

  “I barely maimed him.” Sean shoots me a guilty look.

  “The dog couldn’t walk for weeks!” Mrs. Willis shouts.

  “He made a full recovery.”

  “You see what we had to deal with? We’re lucky you made it to eighteen without spending time behind bars. Lord.” She shakes her head, but smiles when Sean pulls her into his side for a hug.

  The two continue to go back and forth, and we’re entertained by the stories they recall. Sean’s dad doesn’t say much, but he manages a few zingers here and there that have us rolling. This is how a normal family behaves, but I’ve never really witnessed it firsthand—a nuclear unit in which there’s mutual respect and love.

  My eyes prick and I have to blink away tears as it hits me that this is what I’ve always wished for. Love that’s unconditional and untainted by selfish motives. How different would my life have been had I been granted parents such as these? I’m not exactly jealous, but I feel unsettled as sadness washes over me with the realization of what could have been. I try not to think of Trent’s words, his urging to say a final good-bye to my dying father, but it nags regardless. For the first time in probably forever, I question whether I’ve made the right decision.

  33

  Trent

  She’s distant.

  Distracted.

  Closed off.

  I feel her pulling away from me with every mile we cover, and yet she swears there’s nothing wrong. It’s been like this for a week, since the night I discovered Richie was dying and later confronted her.

  I know she’s hurting despite what she claims, because even when your dad’s an asshole, it still sucks to know he’s dying. I would know.

  I remember the call. My mom checking in when I was on the road. Funny thing is, I can’t remember which town we were in, or what club we were playing, but I do remember the graffiti on the wall of the restroom I had locked myself in because I couldn’t quite make out the words she was saying.

  “Your father, he’s gone,” she stated as the script on the wall mocked me.

  You have all the time in the
world, until you don’t.

  Wasn’t that the damn truth? Even though my dad was always gone, never called, never attempted to establish a relationship, never sent cards or checks or anything at all, knowing he was no longer alive and on this earth . . . it was a huge fucking slam of the door. I never realized how much I’d hoped for something all my life, though realistically I knew it’d never come. An apology for leaving me and my mom. For not taking care of me. A sorry for not teaching me to be a man. Something. Gone. Just like that, in the span of one phone call. It all hit me, and I envision how the words on the wall ran together in a blur as tears filled my eyes.

  That’s how I know.

  Even though Lexi swears she’s fine, she’s not. She’s tough as nails, but she’s also one of the kindest people I’ve met. Because she doesn’t take shit doesn’t mean she won’t mourn the loss of the father she never had.

  I want to tell her this—all these things—and convince her to go, to see him, even if it’s only to say fuck you. But I can’t because she needs to make that decision. No one can make it for her. Until then, I’m gonna love her so fucking hard. That’s something I can do for her, something she needs now more than ever.

  It’s after five in the morning when I feel the bus roll to a stop and my arm instinctively reaches for her in bed, only instead, I find flattened sheets. I stretch and roll out of bed, treading lightly through the bus so I don’t wake anyone. To my surprise, I find her sitting in the bench seat, her notepad open on the table and a mug of coffee clenched in her hands. She’s focused on something outside the window, and it’s not until I slide onto the bench that I catch sight of her face.

  Tears, big fat ones, bleed down her strong cheekbones and fear grips my gut.

  “Lexi?” I scoot even closer. She won’t meet my eyes. “Lexi, baby, what’s wrong?”

  She doesn’t make a sound. No sobs, and her shoulders don’t even shake, but those tears keep coming. Wondering if she’s going to answer, caught between pushing her to talk and giving her space, my own words become stuck in my throat.