Zenith Fulfilled (Zenith Trilogy, #3)

by Davis, Leanne

  Eventually, they created Zenith: the band they believed would take them to stardom. They wanted to be the next Rolling Stones, or Beatles, or even the next Bon Jovi. They dreamt of becoming the next big whatever, and that’s all that mattered.

  Rob met Joelle, who fell for Rob and dropped out of college. They brought her along for the ride. She got to experience firsthand the parties, the music, the gigs, the groupies, the alcohol, and all the street drugs. But now, instead of seeking fame and fortune with his wife and best friend at his side, Rob found himself all alone and broke, but sober.

  And now, here, together they stood, watching Spencer’s doctor bride dancing. His pretty, normal, beautiful, kind bride who offered Spencer a home, support, love, and normalcy. Erica virtually gave Spencer back his very soul. She saw in Spencer what no one else but Rob knew. Rob managed to learn everything about Spencer after living half his life alongside him.

  So letting Spencer go was the right thing to do, and Rob realized that. But it turned out to be one of the hardest things he ever did. Harder, even, than letting Joelle go.

  Spencer, however, didn’t need to know that. He deserved to move on and quit worrying about Rob. He needed to pursue his new life, and not cling to the low-class drudgery they became accustomed to before Erica showed up. Spencer’s good fortune was welcomed and applauded by Rob, even though it took everything in him to do it. He had to be selfless, and intended to do that one thing right: letting his best friend go without any feelings of guilt or obligation to Rob.

  “So Hawaii, huh? Two weeks with that blond goddess. I think you’re the luckiest man alive,” Rob said, finally laughing and trying to pretend that was all he had on his mind.

  Spencer looked down at him, since he was six-foot-four, and Rob was only five-foot-seven. “Who would have guessed that I’d ever find any luck in life?”

  “Me. I thought you’d get lucky, Spencer. Because it’s not all luck, you know. You earned this and you deserve your wife.”

  Spencer glanced at Erica. “My wife. Two words I thought I’d never say.”

  “They feel good though, don’t they?”

  Spencer picked up on his tone and cringed. Of course, Rob was thinking of Joelle, his own ex-wife, and his failed marriage. It was something he grieved over as if a personal friend had died.

  “Yeah,” Spencer said, glancing at Joelle who was now walking up to Nick. “You don’t still want her, do you?”

  “Joelle? I don’t know. Can you look at Erica and ever picture not wanting her? Do I wish I could undo the last five years of my life, or wish I stopped myself from drinking and my corresponding downward spiral? Yeah, I wish I could do just that. I wish Nick had never even been an option in Joelle’s life; and that I never gave her any reason to leave me. So, do I want her now? Yes. No. I don’t really know. I know she’s happy with Nick, her daughter, and her life now. That’s really something.”

  “And you, Rob? You going to be okay?”

  Spencer worried about him. Ever since moving in with Erica a year before, he still stopped by Rob’s house frequently. Rob suspected it was mostly to make sure he wasn’t drinking again. And to this date, he wasn’t. It was why he spent most of his spare time attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.

  “It’s not new, Spence. None of this. My alcoholism. Zenith. Nick and Joelle. You and Erica. None of this is new. It’s called reality.”

  “Rob, you told me when I first met Erica to do something, go after what and who I wanted. You told me to find a life. You were still learning to cope with being sober at the time. But you know what, man? You need to take your own advice. Fucking do something! Find the life you want. Quit living at the survival level. Quit regretting your past with Joelle, and me, drinking too much, and Zenith. Zenith and all you associated with it is dead and gone. Let it go! Start over. Start now.”

  Rob smiled. It was funny almost, hearing Spencer lecturing him. Spencer Mattox had finally become positive and encouraging. This from the man who once was as moody and dark as Rob was drunk and stupid only a few years ago.

  Rob didn’t want Spencer worrying about him anymore. Not tonight. Not tomorrow, not for the rest of his life. He forced a smile. “Yeah. I think you might be right, man.”

  Spencer stared again. “You know, I’m aware that you just blew smoke up my ass, didn’t you? I’ve known you too long to believe that. Consider what I said, Rob, seriously.”

  Rob nodded and slapped him on the back. “I’ll think about considering it.” Then he spotted Rebecca over in the crowd, talking to Nick, and pointed at her. “You know her?”

  “Who? Rebecca? Yeah, she’s one of Erica’s patients, and the one who introduced Erica to Nick many years before. She’s also one of Nick’s sisters. Why?”

  “I ran into her outside. I just wondered who she was. What else do you know about her?”

  “Not much. She’s married and got three kids. She doesn’t work, at least, not that I know of. She’s really close to Nick. She seems like an all-around nice woman.”

  Rob smirked as he shook his head. The married, three kids, all around nice woman pretty much put her out of his league. Not that she was on his mind. Rob wasn’t into nice, wholesome girls like her. Not anymore. Not after what happened with Joelle. Before he married her, she was also a nice, wholesome girl. Besides, three kids? Jesus, they had about as much in common as a rabid pit bull does with a newborn kitten.

  But why did that girl approach him? Did she really think he’d happily agree to let her delve into his life and then publish it? In his mind, he banished her by demanding that she go home to her pretty, little life and stay there. Just as he planned to return to his dark, lonely life and stay there.

  ****

  Rebecca watched Rob hugging the bride and groom while smiling and talking; and noticed the three of them looked very close and tightly connected. Rob eventually sauntered away towards another group and Rebecca cursed herself. She messed it up. And not just kind of, but messed it completely up. It was her one chance to make a solid, reasonable argument for why Rob should let her write about him, but she couldn’t even get him to consider it for a brief second. He began laughing almost before she finished speaking. She knew he was a long shot… but she thought that maybe, if she paid him enough, he’d consent to do the project with her. But he refused to consider that angle too, and was more than crystal clear that she was no more than a bad joke to him.

  She sighed, looking back towards the wedding reception. The guests were all milling about as the room was now imbued by the gentle glow of the chandelier lights. It looked as elegant and classy as Rebecca knew the bride to be. Erica had been Rebecca’s doctor since her first pregnancy. She and Erica quickly struck up a friendship, and it didn’t take long before Rebecca decided Erica might be the perfect woman for her brother, Nick. But then Nick ended up with Joelle, who was tattooed, pierced, shy, almost anti-social, not to mention, married at the time, while Erica married the dark, often scary, intense Spencer. Both came as an utter shock to Rebecca. It showed her how little she knew of human nature. So how, then, did she think she could write about it?

  But that was just it: writing was the one thing she thought she could do well. And whenever she did write, it felt almost perfect. It lifted her from the ordinariness of her life, and her routine, and day-to-day mundaneness. Since she was raising three small kids, it was fine, even perfect. Her days should have been routine, stable, and ordinary. She reveled in the time and care she spent with her children. But the small amount of time, barely a few hours a day, she reserved for writing was her only outlet. It elevated her attitude, allowing her to be more positive in other aspects of her daily life, and toward her family. It gave her something she felt confident doing, and provided a venue to chronicle her dreams without becoming resentful of the time and work her kids demanded from her. It made her glad, in fact, for each moment she devoted to them. She had her faults, of course, but a dedicated, involved, loving mother wasn’t one of them.

 
So what if Rob Williams shot her down? So what? She could find someone else. She could still make it work. Although… she really wanted Rob and he was her first choice.

  Why Rob? He thought she was crazy. But she wasn’t, she was right. She chose Rob because she knew of people in his life that she could interview and include their anecdotes in the telling of his story. She already knew a lot about Rob’s recent history, which was the biggest reason, since she didn’t really know too many alcoholics or addicts whom she could have asked to be her subjects. But most of all, she chose Rob because of his singing. She, like Joelle, was convinced that one day, he’d make it big. And if that happened, and her book about him was written, with her as the author, she knew it would sell. It was a stretch, and mostly just a pipe dream, but at this point, it was her only edge. It was a vehicle through which she could gather ideas that would distinguish her from the faceless, myriad other unpublished writers.

  Her first book was rejected quite unanimously, in her opinion. The exact number of rejection letters she’d long ago quit counting. Agents, as well as editors, all sent out the standard letters of rejection. But instead of giving up, and abandoning her dream, she became determined that her next book would be better, and consequently, help sell her first book. Her series, Sober Intentions, would surely sell in this culture. She planned to make it long-term, like Chicken Soup for the Soul, or an equally popular series. She wanted it to be a true series on various people, who suffered through, but eventually, conquered their addictions. She planned to encompass them all: alcohol, drugs, gambling, shopping, sex, video gaming… Anything that became addictive to the people who suffered from it. In a culture of people who lap up the constant news about the flow of celebrities in rehab, she knew her stories would sell, if only she could get the opportunity.

  “Hey, sis, why do you look so serious?”

  Rebecca peered up to find her brother beside her as he draped his arm around her shoulders. She smiled at him. He was so handsome, warm, funny, generous, and kind. He had always been her male role model and father figure in life. Her dad died when she was only six, and Nick, then barely thirteen, stepped in as the man of the house and never quit caring for her. She adored him, and his approval meant everything to her.

  Rob’s words infiltrated her brain. Was Nick just throwing money at her to mollify his little sister’s useless hobby? Or did he really believe in her? She was sure the answer could go either way. Nick would help her, even if she weren’t a good writer, because he loved her so. She only hoped he truly believed in her potential.

  It felt so good, so right to her whenever she wrote and printed out her words… She had to excel at it. Could she suck at something which felt so right for her to do?

  Rebecca smiled up at Nick. “How did you do it, Nick? How did you know your company would succeed without help from anyone?”

  Nick’s eyes widened in surprise. Next Generation Consulting, Nick’s company, offered borderline legal searches on individuals, and unconventional gathering of information in ways that Nick would not confirm or deny. Nick could hack anything and had always been savvy with computers. The government often hired his company, which could have been a contributing factor as to why he didn’t get shut down for invasion of privacy, or have some other police agency on his back. He simply did what he did too well, which made him extremely valuable. In the process, Nick managed to become rich, famous, and one of the most powerful men to occupy the Seattle business realm.

  But to Rebecca, he was just Nick, her big brother.

  “I knew what I was doing, and made sure I was the best, using every opportunity to get what I wanted,” he said as he tugged on one of her curls. “This about your writing?”

  “Yes. I have an idea. I’m not ready to say it yet, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

  He ran a hand over his thin beard. “Rebecca, I know you think I offered you money to help you because I’m your brother, but there’s more; I did it as an investment, I’m investing in you. It was good, your first book. Your ideas are original, intelligent, and compelling. You can’t give up because of rejection slips. Find a way around whatever problem you’re having; and don’t let rejection slips obscure your goal. They shouldn’t even scratch the surface of your inner resistance. Try harder, be better, beat the competition. Even if you have to be ruthless.”

  “Are you saying that I should be more persistently annoying to the people I need to help me?”

  Nick smiled. “Yes.”

  “What if I don’t know if you or the rest of the family will like what I have in mind?”

  “Have I ever asked you or Mom, or anyone else, for that matter, if you guys liked what I do? I don’t think Mom was all that happy when I kept hacking into all the different systems. Just think if I let her protests stop me?”

  “No. You’ve never apologized.”

  “That’s how you make it, Rebecca. No apologies.”

  “I’ve never really experienced the business Nick before. Joelle told me you’re very different. But I guess this proves it; you’re ruthless, balls out.”

  Nick grinned. “You’re my sister. I don’t want anything from you, so of course, you don’t see how I am at work. Business is business. Nothing personal. Remember that.”

  “Nothing personal. Thanks, Nick. That helps a lot. Just remember you told me this someday, which I hope is soon, okay?”

  She turned and left Nick staring at her strangely. Perhaps, when he learned she intended to write about his wife’s ex-husband, he would live to regret giving her his advice. But Nick was right. The business world, any business can’t be personal, it had to be ruthless. Rebecca, as the mostly stay-at-home-mom she usually was all day long, everyday, couldn’t make it in this writing business. She had to be like Nick. Balls out. Business is business.

  Rebecca went back to the picnic table where she left Rob, and her confidence dipped that quickly, as her heart dropped. There, on the table, sat her manuscript, right where she left it. Rob didn’t even read a page or look at a single word.

  Rebecca picked up her life’s work, and pressed it against her chest. She might have to resort to playing dirty with Rob Williams after all.

  ****

  In Rebecca’s normal life and social circumstances, she would never have sought out someone like Rob Williams. She would, in fact, probably have avoided him at all costs. He was terrifying and too different than any men she knew.

  He was handsome, she supposed, in a bad-ass, nasty kind of way. No, perhaps not handsome, but hot. Rob Williams definitely had the potential to be hot and sinfully sexy. He made a girl think of sweaty, get-down-and-dirty sex. Or one-night-stands after too much tequila.

  Not that she knew anything about that, of course! She’d never had a one-night-stand in her life. Or gone inside a true bar. She married at age twenty, and her first child arrived at age twenty-one. Ever since then, she’d always been at home, raising her kids.

  But still, she had an imagination, and if she were going to fantasize about that kind of sex, it would have to be with a man like Rob. He had black hair that was so dark, it nearly glowed blue. Shiny, and slightly too long, it hung shaggily around his face. He had green eyes, and a lazy, but very charming, look-you-over-up-and-down kind of stare. He always seemed in need of a shave, with new stubble on his chin and cheeks, that complemented his too long hair. He wasn’t tall, but slender, sinewy, and very strong looking. He had dark, swarthy skin that never became pale and pasty like most Washingtonians were relegated to sporting all winter.

  What really put him over the top were the man’s infinite tattoos. Now, wearing a crisp white shirt and tuxedo, however, most of them weren’t so obvious. But Rebecca had seen them before from afar, and knew they snaked all around both of his arms. He had a collage of ink that practically wallpapered him. He had piercings on his face too. Two hoops on one eyebrow and one on his upper lip. Just like Joelle had. They most likely received them together. She often wondered why Nick didn’t ask Joelle not t
o wear them. Nick never seemed to care that his wife looked… well, kind of weird. She certainly was not like someone that her preppy, rich, intelligent, and extra nice brother should have been married to.

  None of that body art or barbaric mutilation was what Rebecca liked. She didn’t get the whole compulsion of tattooing and piercing. Although it seemed to be more popular now and less on the fringe, Rebecca hated it all and would’ve come close to killing any of her daughters if one of them ever dared to show up at home like that. But of course, that was exactly what she liked in Rob: how different he was from her. He was exciting, interesting, wild, and oh so hot. He was definitely part of the fringe. That made his story one just waiting to be told.

  With that thought in her mind, Rebecca marched right back up to him. He didn’t see her approaching, and she tapped his shoulder. At five-foot-five, she was only two inches shorter than he and loved being able to easily make eye contact with him.

  “Mr. Williams?”

  He stiffened and jerked his head back to her, but frowned and sighed when he realized who it was. “You again. Look, my answer is no.”

  “I gathered that when you left my manuscript outside.”

  At least, he had the common grace to turn away. He shook his head and replied, “Look, I never asked you to leave it there. Besides, I ride a motorcycle, and don’t have any room for it.”

  “What if I mailed it to you? Would you at least glance at it?”

  “Jesus, you’re persistent, aren’t you? Or is it obsessive?”

  “Would you just glance at it?”

  He turned on his heel and faced her fully. His eyes took in her curls and followed the modest, cardigan-topped outfit, right down to her feet. He stepped closer to her and put a hand on her forearm. She glanced down and stared, becoming fascinated. He had letters inked just below his knuckles and she frowned when she read what they were: Joelle. He even put his wife’s name on his damn hands! Only now, she was her brother’s wife. Rebecca stood her ground, resisting his angry look, and the hand she felt tightening over her arm. She knew she was physically lacking to a man like Rob. She was just a plain Jane, soccer mom. She knew her blondish-red hair and freckles weren’t exactly a turn on to draw a man’s passion, and especially one who was like Rob. But she didn’t want Rob to like her. She merely wanted Rob to work with her.