by Ava Lore
Kent's smile faded a little. “I thought you were all in,” he said.
“I am!” I protested. “But I can't talk to Jason. I can't...”
The phone died in Kent's hand. Slowly he put it down on the table before reaching out and placing his hand on my shoulder. “You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to,” he said. “But do you want to go through the rest of your life afraid to hear someone else's voice?”
It wasn't that... or wasn't just that. I didn't want Jason to talk to me because I was afraid, deep inside, that he would convince me to come back. That he would somehow erase the memory of everything that had happened in the past month and convince me that I was worthless, that no one would love me, that I should go back to him because this thing with Kent couldn't last. This thing with the whole band would never last, and then I'd be out on the streets again, utterly alone. I'd be sorry then...
On the other hand, he was right. I couldn't live my life afraid of hearing Jason's voice, convinced that it had some sort of dark power over me. I didn't want to feel fear every time I got a text. I didn't want to avoid my phone like the plague. I didn't want to kiss Kent and then have the horrible feeling that I was being watched, just through the blinds, from a parking lot, from across a street.
I hesitated for just a moment, then shook my head. “No,” I said. “I don't want to be afraid of him. But I don't know if I'm ready.”
“I'll help you,” Kent said, and for some reason my heart hitched in my chest.
“Would you?” I asked. I felt pathetic, but I couldn't deny that I was afraid, and that Kent's help would be a godsend.
“I will. But we have to do it this morning. Right now, if you can.”
Oh. Right now? As in, right now now? Now I wasn't so sure again...
The hand on my shoulder squeezed. “Come on,” Kent said gently. “Let's go upstairs. You can call him from my room.”
“Be sure to tell him you're calling from Kent's room,” Sonya said suddenly. “Better yet, answer the phone while you're in the middle of fucking. That always gets guys jealous. Even if they're not hung up on you, they hate to be reminded that someone might be getting laid while they aren't.”
Next to her, a slow look of realization dawned on Manny's face. “Hey,” he said. “Wait a minute... those times you told me you were out of breath because you were just back from a run...”
Abruptly I stood up. “Now,” I said. “I'll do it now.”
Kent stood up next to me and took my hand. His fingers laced with mine. “Good,” he said. “Let's go.”
He picked my phone up while I swung my bag over my shoulder, and then I followed him out of the breakfast area and to the elevators. As we reached the shiny gold doors, my voicemail dinged.
Of course, I thought. Of course he left a message. Another message that I didn't want to listen to, but now I was going to have to.
Face your fears, I told myself as we entered the elevator, but come on, who really wants to face their fears?
That shit is scary, man.
We rode up to our floor in silence, and even though Kent's hand was warm on mine, my insides grew colder and colder as we ascended, and by the time we were standing outside Kent's door I had to pull my hand from his and wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to keep myself from shivering.
Kent opened the door of his room and led me inside. To my surprise, he didn't stop in the little living area, but took me back to his bedroom.
Leading me to the bed, he motioned that I should sit down, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was too jumpy. I shook my head. “I'd rather be standing in case I have to jump out the window, thanks.”
He gave me a grim smile. “All right,” he said. “Are you ready to listen to his message?”
My hands curled into fists. “Maybe,” I said.
The look Kent gave me was deadly serious. “I mean this, Rebecca,” he said. “You need to fight back against this guy. If you don't fight him, he'll make your life hell. More hell than he's made it already. He's made you infamous. You can't run from this. You can't run from your face or your name.”
“Sure I could,” I said. “With enough money.”
He looked as though he were about to argue, but then he just shrugged. “Fair enough,” he said. “But do you have that money?”
“No,” I admitted. All I had was my first two paychecks from this job. It was a lot—more than I'd ever earned in a month before in my life—but it wasn't exactly disappearing money.
“Then you need to face this.”
I looked at Kent then—really looked at him. He stood, perfectly at ease, as though nothing in the world ever bothered him, even though I knew from experience that the man could ooze stress from every pore. But the Jason problem? The issues I was having with my stupid past and my stupid decisions catching up with me? They didn't even register with him. If there was something to get upset about, Kent would be radiating rage, and he wasn't.
I licked my lips and nodded. “Okay,” I said, unshouldering my bag and dropping it to the floor. “Let's do this.”
He put my phone in my hand.
Immediately I felt sick, but I forced myself to slide the home screen up and touch the voicemail icon.
I gave Kent one last glance, then took a deep breath, turned on the speaker, and opened the message.
“Hey babe,” Jason said.
It's funny how just a voice can take you back to a place where you don't want to go. Where you told yourself you'd never go again.
My whole body tensed at the sound of Jason's voice, and my breathing picked up. Fight or flight? My palms began to sweat while my hands trembled.
“Just dropping you a line. I know you've seen your picture by now. Just letting you know that I'm still waiting for those introductions I asked for. I'm sure you'd hate for your past to somehow get around, so it's important that you call me soon. Oh yeah, by the way, I won't press charges against that bitch if you holla back. Later.”
My stomach lurched. I felt like I was going to throw up. Then warm hands landed on my shoulders, and I looked up into Kent's face. The heat of his body buffeted mine and I closed my eyes. I felt him looming over me. Sheltering me.
Without quite meaning to, I leaned in and Kent's arms stole around me. I pressed my face into his chest, wishing that we could stay here like this.
“I knew it,” Kent said above me. His voice rumbled in his chest and against me, spreading through me like a warm little earthquake. “He's still looking for a leg up in the industry. Call him back.”
My hands started to shake. “What...what should I say?” I asked him.
“Tell him I'm willing to get him a spot opening for The Lonely Kings.”
I inhaled sharply. “Are you really sure about this?” I asked. “You want his band opening for you?”
“I don't want it,” Kent told me, “but it will make him go away.”
I wasn't so sure of that. But Kent's voice was calm and serene, totally in control of the situation, so I took a deep breath and steadied myself. “All right,” I said, “but I need to sit down.”
Gently he released me and I turned and sat on his bed. The mattress was firm and inviting, but I couldn't allow myself to give in to it just yet. Kent sat down next to me and his weight pulled me into him. I didn't move away, just leaned against him and forced my shaking fingers to dial Jason's number and turn it on speaker.
That asshole let the phone ring three times before he picked it up, and when he did he sounded so smug I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. “Heeeeeyyyy Rebecca,” he said. “So you finally got some time to call me back, eh?”
I swallowed around my dry tongue. “Yeah,” I said. “I did. I'm calling because I talked to...” I stole a peek at Kent from the corner of my eye, “...to the band's manager. He said he can get you a spot opening for The Lonely Kings.”
I don't think Jason had anticipated something like that. I heard the sharp sound of his sudden intake of breath on
the other end of the line, and I felt completely helpless. He was getting what he wanted... but Jason didn't just get what he wanted and go away. He took and took and took until you were nothing.
I should have left, I thought. I shouldn't be dragging them into this.
But it was too late for that. At the other end of the line, Jason recovered his composure. “Not bad,” he said, though I could detect a tiny quiver of excitement in his voice. “Not bad, Rebecca. When?”
Helplessly I looked at Kent. I had no idea.
Kent nodded at me. “Hang on,” I said. “I'll put the manager on.”
I held the phone out to Kent, and he leaned in. “Hello, sir,” he said. “What would you like to speak with me about?”
“Hey, yeah, when's the show?” Jason's excitement was far more palpable speaking with Kent, and I realized that he hadn't quite believed that I really might have contacts. Which meant he would have screwed me over for nothing.
“The show is within the next week,” Kent was saying. “The Lonely Kings will be playing a surprise exclusive show soon, here in San Diego. Your band may open for them then. Call the management office to set things up.” He rattled off the number. “I'll tell them you'll be calling.”
“Great,” Jason said. “Appreciate it, man. You guys take care now. I'll see you in a week.”
“It goes without saying,” Kent cut in, “that after this we will consider the matter settled.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jason said. “Of course. No problem. Hand me back to Rebecca.”
Kent's face twisted up into a moue of distaste, but he handed the phone back to me.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Hey, babe,” he said. “Thanks. I'll be talking to you more later. See ya.”
Then he hung up, and Kent and I were alone in his room with the stupid ghosts of my past hanging between us.
I shut my phone off. Then, to make absolutely sure it wouldn't bother me, I dropped it on the floor and nudged it under the bed with my foot.
Next to me, Kent gave a little laugh. “It's not poisonous, you know.”
“Feels like it,” I said. “I hate thinking that he can intrude between us. It feels gross. Knowing he watched us last night...” I didn't like to think about it, but now my brain was swinging around to the inevitable truth—that my ex had watched me in one of my most vulnerable, open moments, and I wanted to puke into the hotel's well-appointed gunmetal gray trash can. “Ugh. I don't feel so well,” I said.
“Perhaps you should lie down,” Kent told me.
With any other guy, I would have suspected him of ulterior motives, but with Kent I could completely believe that he just wanted me to feel better. Wanly I nodded, and he got up and helped me lie down in his bed. Without even asking me he left the room, then came back a moment later carrying a glass of water. He put it on the bedside table within easy reach, then circled the bed.
The mattress dipped with his weight as he crawled into the bed with me. I would have enjoyed it if I hadn't just talked to my shitbag ex-boyfriend. Right now I just wanted to close my eyes and get over the nauseated feeling in my stomach.
But Kent didn't make a move. To my surprise, he just slid in next to me. I was lying on my side and he slotted his body into mine, spooning me. There was no expectation in his movements, only comfort and familiarity, though I have to admit that even the stomach upset caused by a brush with Jason wasn't entirely enough to squelch the little tremors of arousal Kent inspired. Even so, when one hand slipped down to my stomach I tensed.
“Shh,” Kent murmured. “Relax, Rebecca. I'm not trying to seduce you. Sometimes something warm on the stomach feels good when you're feeling sick.”
He was right. His large, warm hand on my belly did feel good. Soothing and sweet. I forced myself to relax and roll back into him, and he tucked himself around me, shielding me from the rest of the world.
I was suddenly very tired. The adrenaline that had been zipping through my bloodstream all morning was finally petering out, leaving me feeling weak and sore, as though I'd just run a marathon.
My eyes grew heavy and my body sank back further into Kent. For a while—I don't know how long—we floated together. I fought sleep, wanting to feel all of this, to revel in the feeling of safety in his arms. When a noise out on the street jerked me out of that twilight state I roused myself slightly and turned in his arms. He moved to accommodate me, and I hooked my leg over one of his, my arm twining over his chest and around his neck.
Kent tensed very slightly, and I looked up at him, frowning. “Whasrong?” I muttered.
He was wide awake, and for a moment I thought he was going to say something, but then he just shook his head.
“I was just thinking about how much... how much Jason took advantage of you,” he said. “Making my blood boil.”
“Stop thinking 'bout it, then,” I said.
“I will,” he said. But he didn't relax.
Troubled, but too tired to think about it, I burrowed back down until my head pillowed on his shoulder and I finally let myself sink towards sleep.
When I woke, it was mid-afternoon, and I was alone. A clacking noise came from outside the bedroom door.
Kent was sitting in the living room of the suite, typing on his laptop. I stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing my eyes.
“Hey,” I said. “Whatcha doing?”
He barely registered my presence. “Working,” he said.
He kept typing.
“Uh,” I said. “Can I help?”
He shook his head. “This is all for the concert. This is going to take a miracle to pull off. I need to concentrate. Why don't you go downstairs and get something to eat?” His fingers flew across the keyboard, clicking and clacking away.
I watched him for a moment, but he didn't even look at me.
Hot and cold motherfucker, I thought, but whatever. We'd talk later, after he was done. I left him to his work.
*
Unfortunately, it turns out that organizing a secret show takes a crap ton of effort and energy, and I barely saw Kent for the next few days. He locked himself in the bathroom of his suite and worked around the clock, only stopping for mealtimes, which were always at some trendy place with both myself and Carter at least, and including Manny and Sonya as the mood struck them. I'd relocated to his bed, and when he came out of the bathroom late at night and collapsed next to me he went to sleep almost immediately.
Then he'd wake up the next day and do it all over again. We barely spoke.
It didn't take long for me to realize that he was actively avoiding me for some reason. The thought made me sick to my stomach, but I couldn't bring myself to ask him about it, just in case it was all in my head.
During the day I would tidy up until Carter or Manny dragged me out of the hotel and forced me to do something to take my mind off of things. They fed me drinks in the evening and sent me to bed, where I dozed until Kent fell down next to me.
In the late night hours, I would reach out and touch him, wondering if any of this was real. That Kent Hudson could be working so hard for a person like me... it went way beyond the weird animal attraction between us.
I kept telling myself I wasn't in love. I mean, obviously I wasn't. It was too soon to call any of this love.
But I couldn't deny that I wanted to be in love with Kent, and in the dark of the hotel room, after he ran himself ragged pulling together some sort of plan to destroy my ex before my ex destroyed me, I would reach out and run my fingers through his hair—like silk—and imagine that we were in love. I pretended that I was in love with his strength, and his determination. I pretended I was in love with his mouth, his arms, his eyes. I pretended that when he woke up in the morning, he would lean over me and kiss me awake, and then he would be in love with me, too.
Chapter Fifteen
Friday. The day of the concert.
I hadn't known it was the day of the concert until about ten in the morning when Kent called me up on my cell and told me to go s
hopping.
"What?" I'd said. "Why?"
"For the concert tonight," he'd said as though it were obvious.
"I didn't know the concert was tonight."
"Did I not tell you?"
I rolled my eyes. "No."
"Well, go find something to wear. Something new."
"I thought this was all about... you know. The Lonely Kings and destroying Jason and whatnot." I'd had to lower my voice at the last part. I was sitting in a little bakery with Carter and Manny, drinking lattes and reading a book while Carter read scripts and Manny scribbled sketches of the patrons around us. I knew there were people probably watching us, and who knew if the person one table over was listening in or not. The whole infamy thing is enough to make you paranoid.
"It is, but I want you to have a good rock getup. Take Carter with you. He'll help you find something good."
A rock get-up. What the fuck was that? "Uh," I said, "why not Sonya?"
"Because she doesn't pick her own outfits. Her entourage does that. Now go buy something. Use the card. No limit." He hung up without saying goodbye. I sighed and disconnected, turning to Carter.
"Hey," I said. I was reluctant to tear him away from his scripts, but this seemed important. When he looked up at me, I continued. "Kent says I need a new outfit for tonight."
"Tonight?" Carter said. "What's tonight?"
I stared at him. "The concert?"
He blinked. "Oh," he said. "That's tonight? Okay. Well, let's go then."
He hadn't known? I wondered just how tired Kent was that he'd neglected to tell the members of the band that was supposed to be performing that they were meant to be performing tonight. Together we stood up, dragging Manny's attention from his sketchbook. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Concert's tonight," Carter said.
"Oh," Manny said. "Cool." He went back to drawing.
"Uh," I said. "Aren't you guys nervous or something?"
"What, us?" Carter said, steering me out of the cafe. "No way. This is old hat. We've been performing live for years. We'll be fine. Kent gave us the setlist ages ago, so we know what we're doing. All we need to do is show up, you know?"