Closer to You (Grindstone Harbor, #1)

by Cat Mason

  “Rise and shine!” Evan shouts, banging on the door.

  Bristol and I both jump in surprise, her knee bashing me in the face. “Ow! Shit.” Jolting upright, I lose my balance and fall backwards off the bed, crashing to the floor with a thud.

  “Oh my God, Tage,” Bristol gasps, her eyes going wide. Throwing off the sheet, she scrambles off the bed toward me. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I reply, blowing out a breath. “I think –”

  The door flies open, Evan flying into the room, his eyes wide. “What in the hell?”

  “Evan!” Bristol screams, yanking the quilt from the bed to cover us. “Oh my God! Get out!”

  Spotting us on the floor, on the opposite side of the bed, he bursts into a fit of laughter. Bending at the waist, he wraps his arms around himself, tears streaming down his face. “I swear to fuck, you two. The shit that happens around here is too goddamned hilarious to make up.”

  “I’m so happy you’re enjoying yourself, fucktart,” Bristol says, glaring at him. “If you’re done having your mid-morning giggle, would you kindly get the fuck out of my room while I’m naked?”

  Nodding his head, Evan turns for the door. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. But don’t take all day. There’s shit to do.” He barely manages to leave the room before he loses it again, laughing his ass off.

  Bristol

  What the fucking fuck just happened?

  Here I was, legs spread wide like a Thanksgiving turkey, Tage diving in like an Olympic Gold Medalist off the high dive. Then what the hell do I do? I basically roundhouse kicked him off my vag like I was auditioning to star in a remake of the show Walker Texas Ranger.

  My lady parts are not on speaking terms with the rest of my body right now...

  The riot will be ugly.

  “I can’t believe I punted you across the room in the middle of a face fucking.” Shaking my head, I push to my feet. Reaching out, I brush my fingers over the dark red mark just below his left eye. “I’m so sorry.”

  Standing, Tage laughs. “Bristol, baby, I’m fine. Besides,” he shrugs, his lips twitching with amusement. “It sure made things interesting.” He winks. Leaning in, he kisses me quickly. “Let’s get cleaned up. At some point, I should probably go check on Moo and make sure my uncle hasn’t pissed in his water bowl.”

  “What?” I gasp, staring at him in shock.

  No way I heard that right.

  Shaking his head, Tage rolls his eyes. “It’s a long story,” he says, taking my hand and leading me into the bathroom.

  Showering together resulted with us both getting clean, only to get dirtied right back up again while Tage took me hard and fast against the tiles with the last condom in the box he bought before showing up here last night. Thirty minutes later, we finally dress and head downstairs. Once Tage programs his number into my cellphone, he kisses me and heads home to check on Felix and Moo. Closing the door behind him, I peek out like a total creeper, and watch his perfectly encased denim ass until it disappears from view.

  Stepping into the kitchen, I head straight for the coffee pot. “Have you had breakfast?” I ask, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some much needed caffeine. “I’m starving.”

  “Eh,” he replies, nodding his head. “I could eat.”

  “Pancakes?” I ask, puffing out my bottom lip. “Loaded with butter and syrup.”

  “Well, being that you have shit to do, we can’t drive the hour to the nearest IHOP,” he shrugs. “I guess EHOP it is then.”

  Heading for the back room where I left my laptop, I smile, patting his arm as I move around him. “EHOP is better any way.”

  “You bet your ass it is,” he agrees, smiling smugly when I glance up at him. “Hey, B?” he asks, causing me to stop mid-step in the doorway.

  “Yeah?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.

  “After you’ve spoken to Vicki, and I’ve finished cooking, we should find out about how to register your pussy as a lethal weapon,” he laughs. “Get you a laminated card or some shit that says you have a black belt in Cunt Fu.”

  “I hate you,” I toss out, flipping him off.

  While Evan goes on and on about how he should pitch a movie to Hollywood about a group of ninja women who fight crime with ‘pussy power’, I load up my computer and prepare to Skype Vicki. Being that the label has concerns, I know I should hear her out. Though her personality is about as warm and comforting as naptime in a sub-zero freezer, she doesn’t give me a whole lot of problems about how I do things. Usually, she and I tend to see eye to eye on the whole ‘don’t feed the drama llama’ thing. More often than not, if the media has no one to fuel a story, they move on to the next nibble to see where it leads.

  The saying ‘high school never ends’ couldn’t be more true.

  The screen fills with Vicki’s face, the record label logo large and in charge right behind her head. “Good morning, Bristol,” she says, a polite smile on her face. “As much as I wish this call were needed for different circumstances, we have matters to attend to. I’ll save you the pleasantries and just get to it.”

  Peeking his head in the doorway, Evan snorts sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “As opposed to her usual overly warm nature?”

  “Absolutely,” I reply, ignoring Evan and keeping my eyes on the screen. “I wanted you to know that I’ve seen the statement you’ve released. I feel it is sufficient, so I won’t be giving one of my own,” I blurt, beating her to the punch.

  “Things have changed significantly since I’ve last made contact with the two of you,” she informs me.

  “Changed,” I ask, arching a brow. “How?”

  “I have asked your attorney, Brenda Gentry, to meet with me today, so your timing for your call couldn’t be more perfect. As you already know, I have been working closely with her since this situation began.” Adjusting the screen, she shifts it so that I can see them both.

  “Hello, Miss Lachlan,” Brenda says with a smile.

  “Morning,” I say, nodding in response.

  Vicki begins to flip through a file folder on her desk, the annoying sound of her chomping her gum has me forcing a smile and clenching my hands into tight fists. Seriously, who the fuck started this annoying ass habit? I can’t even imagine how loud it is when she is actually eating a meal! The thought of her teeth grinding with every bite she takes has me cringing just like when I was eleven and my math teacher would drag her nails on the chalk board when the class got too loud. If you can manage to chew tomato soup like you’re ripping flesh straight from the damn bone, then I reserve the right to punch you in the windpipe.

  Now there’s a Criminal Minds episode I could sympathize with the bad guy on...

  A serial killer who hunts in local restaurants, killing only the rude pricks who chew their mashed potatoes like hungry beavers let loose in a lumber yard.

  Ignoring the strong urge to tell her to shove the gum up her ass, I listen as Vicki reads through some of the snippets she has highlighted from several articles and blog posts floating around while Brenda makes notes. None of it anything I haven’t already personally seen or heard about. It’s all the media grasping at straws and piecing together shit they know nothing about just because a tip about a juicy police report landed in their laps.

  Real life problems result in only working with the tip.

  This situation is no different.

  “Our concerns are not simply because the media has decided to run with this story like a pack of wolves. We are deeply apprehensive about the aftermath of this once it’s all said and done,” she says, closing the folder and looking up at the camera. “Like I said, things have changed as of late. Payne’s bail was posted yesterday afternoon. From what we have gathered, several media outlets have offered him big bucks to tell his story. Although his council did not confirm or deny when asked.”

  “What?” Evan asks, in disbelief. Shoving me over, he drops down beside me, glaring at the screen. “That would’ve been something you may have wanted t
o share with me...yesterday,” he says through gritted teeth. “For fuck’s sake, I’m just the goddamned security.”

  “Garret Royce, Payne’s attorney, has reached out. They are cooperating fully with the ongoing investigation and Mr. Payne has agreed to seek psychological help. Being that this is a delicate situation, we have discussed this at great length before coming to you with this,” she continues, ignoring Evan completely. “Royce is asking for charges to be dropped. They feel Mr. Payne suffered a small mental break due to his personal family complications and assure that he is not a threat to you, or anyone else. From what I understand, the District Attorney appears to be in agreement. I expect a motion for dismissal on all counts to be granted as early as tomorrow morning.”

  “A small mental break?” I ask, shaking my head. “I’m glad we are forgoing pleasantries, because you’re fucking nuts.”

  “If all charges are dropped against him,” Brenda pipes up. “It would be up to you to pursue the matter in the civil courts. I would also file a motion in immediately to keep the protective and no-contact orders in place. However, it is up to the judge in the end.”

  “A civil suit?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “For what, money? I don’t want his fucking money. I also seriously doubt a piece of paper saying he can’t come around, or try to contact me, is going to do fuck all bit of good. If he comes at me, do I throw it and hope he bleeds out from a papercut?”

  “Be advised, if you were to go ahead with the civil suit, Mr. Royce has made it very clear that his client may decide to go after Evan for assault,” Vicki adds, folding her hands neatly and placing them on the desk in front of her. “Mr. Payne just wants all of this to go away so that he can focus on family matters.”

  “I’ll bet he does,” Evan snarls angrily.

  My jaw nearly bounces off my lap. “Can he do that?” I ask, my eyes shifting between them on the screen. “Evan was only doing his job by protecting me.”

  “Every citizen has the legal right to have their case heard,” Brenda nods, frustration written all over her face. “This is a tough spot to be in, I know. I have been over this entire case a hundred times. While it is highly unlikely he would be successful in his efforts, Miss Lachlan, it would be a lot of press coverage and negative attention that no one wants taking the spotlight while promotion is kicking off for the new album.”

  “So your advice is to drop it?” I ask, completely floored. I pay this bitch two-thousand dollars an hour, on top of a hefty retainer, and her best legal advice is to tuck tail and let it go?

  “In the end it is your decision,” Vicki replies, her lips pressing into a hard line. “However, I’d like to be the voice of reason here when I say that you should take some time to think about how this could negatively affect, not only yourself and Evan, but the other members of AWOL as a whole, along with Frayed Edge Records.”

  “Low fuckin’ blow,” Evan mutters under his breath. Scowling at the screen, he shakes his head. “Don’t put all this shit on her like that. Next thing you’re gonna say she was askin’ for it.”

  “Down boy,” I say, patting Evan’s thigh. “This isn’t personal. I get it. It’s about business. The delivery of it all may have been about as shitty as a gourmet meal served on a dirty toilet seat lid, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate where Ms. Brandwell is coming from,” I continue, emphasizing my callous use of her last name instead of how I usually greet her.

  “We have given you a lot to process. I think it best we let you reflect on these new developments.” Brenda interjects when Vicki starts to speak. “I would also advise you to lie low for the time being and refrain from interacting with the press. If you need anything, you have my cell number.”

  “Right.” Forcing a smile, I nod. “Thank you, Brenda. I’ll be in touch.”

  Clicking the ‘X’ on the web browser, I close my laptop and place it on the coffee table in front of me. Burying my face in my hands, I blow out a harsh breath. “Wow,” I say, pushing to my feet. “So, that totally just happened. Hmm.”

  “B?” Evan pushes to his feet, following me as I make my way into the kitchen. “You good? I don’t like this eerie calm you’re workin’ with all of a sudden.”

  “Peachy.” Bypassing the plates of pancakes on the counter, I head straight for the cabinet and pull out the bottle of tequila. Spinning off the cap, I toss it down beside the food and take a heaping gulp. “Just fuckin’ peachy.”

  “Peachy as a plum and about to blow a gasket,” he replies, rounding the kitchen island.

  “I have no fucking idea what that even means,” I shrug, downing another swallow, “but, I’ll have you know that all my gaskets are firmly in place with no signs of impending eruption.”

  “Bullshit,” he says, pointing at me. “I call bullshit.”

  “I’m going to get some air.”

  Flinging open the screen door, I head for the water, needing to clear my head. Evan is wrong. I’m not about to explode. Honestly, I can’t quite figure out how I feel about this whole thing. I’m not exactly angry or outraged, though I know I should be. What I am feeling is more shock than anything, I guess. How is it possible for someone who planned and attempted to execute a malicious attack to walk away without any sort of punishment? I can’t wrap my head around it.

  Reaching the water’s edge, I drop to my ass in the sand. Hugging my knees to my chest, I let the bottle hang loosely from my fingers as I close my eyes and focus on each breath I take. It’s times like these that I miss my Nana Jo the most. On my worst days, just a phone call to her and my whole world felt lighter. She would have something incredibly encouraging and wise to say that would instantly make me feel better. The woman had a true gift for uplifting everyone around her.

  Barking has me opening my eyes just in time to see Moo rush passed me. With another bark, and his tail wagging like mad, he leaps into the water after a red Frisbee. “We have to stop meeting like this,” Tage chuckles behind me.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” I reply, keeping my eyes focused forward. I feel the heat of his gaze as he studies me. “Long time, no see.” Folding my legs Indian-style, I watch Moo splash in the water as he makes his way back to the beach. Wagging his tail, he drops the Frisbee in front of me with a satisfied bark.

  “Hey, buddy,” I say sweetly, rewarding him with a scratch behind his ears. “Aren’t you cute when you’re not plowing through shit like a one-man demolition crew?”

  With his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head, Moo leans into my touch, his back leg thumping hard against the sand. “Don’t fill his head with shit like that,” Tage huffs with a laugh. “There’ll be no living with him if you keep that up.”

  Moo’s eyes focus on Tage, shooting a look that says he is all out of fucks to give. With a grunt, he flops down onto the sand, placing his head in my lap. Propping one of his front paws over my legs, he shifts around until he gets comfortable before exhaling roughly.

  “Wow,” Tage says, dropping to the sand beside me. “What an attention whore.”

  “No,” I reply, smoothing my hand over his wet fur. “He just wants to cuddle.”

  “Well,” he teases, waggling his brows. “If that’s all it takes, I’ll flop into your lap and let you scratch any damn thing you want.”

  Looking over at him, I roll my eyes, determined to fight the smile that is trying to spread across my face. “And you called the dog an attention whore.”

  “Who do you think taught the dog?” Tage beams at me, his entire face lighting up. Shifting his body to face me, he brushes the backs of his fingers over my cheek. “So. Are you going to share what’s going through that beautiful head of yours, or do you plan to sit and stew on it?” he asks, giving Moo a pat on the hip. “The dog’s a fantastic listener,” he adds with a shrug. “Although, I gotta say, I’m not so bad myself.”

  “It’s complicated,” I inform him.

  “Try me.”

  “It’s stupid really,” I brush him off again, knowing he couldn’t possibl
y want to hear me bitch about the drama in my life at the moment. “Trust me, you don’t wanna get into this shit.”

  Reaching out, his hand covers mine as it rests on the top of Moo’s head. The dog snorts, his head jolting slightly before he settles again and begins snoring. “If it’s taking all of your focus up here,” he replies, brushing the fingers of his other hand over my temple. “And your smile here...” His fingertips brush lightly over my lips, causing me to shiver. “It isn’t stupid. Don’t lessen the value of what you’re feeling simply because you don’t want to trouble me with the reasons behind it. Does it have anything to do with last night. Or this morning?” he asks, instantly making me feel bad.

  “No,” I answer, shaking my head just to drive the point home. “It has nothing to do with this,” I add, gesturing between us. “This is good. Very good, actually.”

  Tage’s mouth twitches in amusement. When it is very clear that he isn’t budging on this, I swallow my hesitation, a huge swig from my bottle, and get to it. Starting from the beginning, I tell him everything since the last night of the tour. I figure, at the least, it will allow me the ability to talk through it all with someone who is outside looking in so to speak. The fresh eyes approach may provide a new outlook to help me see every angle. Maybe, he will have some sort of insight into the whole clusterfuck that I could have missed. Who the fuck knows?

  I don’t get much commentary during story time. In fact, Tage doesn’t say a word the entire time I speak. He nods, and I watch his features shift and change at different parts, but all his reactions are silent.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m naïve and careless,” I say, looking down at my lap where Moo continues to nap comfortably. “But, I’ve never seen danger when it came to our fans. Am I supposed to change that about me since someone went off the wall because of lyrics I wrote? I mean once everyone sees that he’s gotten away with it, does that roll out the welcome mat for more of this shit to happen? The whole thing makes me sad. I don’t like second guessing everyone who loves our band, and listens to the music we make, simply because of one unstable asshole.”