He played with words until they became a living thing, transporting him into moments that might have been and things he wished he’d said and done when he had the chance. When he looked up again, it was midnight. Two more days and he’d drop the album. The cover artist had sent the graphic design over yesterday. It was ready. He was ready.
To toss a penny in his personal wishing well that he knew would never hit bottom.
Ten tracks. Ten shots over the man’s starboard bow. Not that he’d ever hear them. Then he promised himself he’d move on. He’d be done. Do the interviews. Take the blame. Erase The Asylum, his own personal crazy place, from his head. Somehow.
Ten days. Two months and ten days.
He flipped the calendar on his phone and scrolled back, then made himself stop. Closed it and waited for the ON AIR light to turn red.
“Good evening, Los Angeles. I’m Buster Ingram, and you’re listening live to Damnation Nation, where we bring you the best in new indie music. Tonight, I have a very special guest with me, a controversial figure you’ve probably all been keeping tabs on along with me. He’s here tonight to talk about his new album, No Ah…”
Jamie smirked as the radio DJ rambled on with his introduction. He hadn’t planned the title to read the way DJs had interpreted it. Had in fact named the album Noah, but the way his personal four letter word lay across the cover, white letters in a square, everyone had assumed it was two words because of the way he’d flirted with Noah’s name in the title track, and he was happy to let them go right on thinking whatever the fuck they wanted.
“Welcome, Jamie. Thank you for joining me.”
He leaned into the microphone. “It’s good to be here.”
A cameraman caught the visual for the YouTube segment that would be posted on the station’s channel later that day.
“So, this is an edgy album for you. Was that why you decided to leave Glam Grenade? To pursue something different?”
For whatever reason, the world had moved on from the drug story and had told its own version of Glam’s breakup in a way that he still found surprising. He supposed it made a better headline, but he’d take what he could get. Except…
The truth. Don’t lie to me.
“Glam broke up because I made a pass at Trevor and he decided to take his revenge by selling me out to the press for a cheap shot.” He shrugged, not bothering to smile. He wasn’t sure he still knew how. “This album is something I worked on after coming back from…” The truth here wasn’t as important as The Asylum’s privacy. Reed’s and even Noah’s. “Hiatus.”
“Hm.” The DJ tapped the plastic CD case thoughtfully. “You’ve said you won’t comment publicly on that time or your...relationship, but can you say if any of the songs on the album were written as a result of your time in New York?”
Licking his lips, Jamie flicked his attention to the camera and back to the mic. “Yes. All of them.”
“All of them?” Surprise opened the man’s gaze. He leaned back, hands over his stomach. “So you wrote this album, produced it and got it out in—”
“One month and twenty-seven days.” The number tripped far too easily off his tongue, and he fumbled with the cuff on his right wrist. “It was an intense period. I’m only now coming to terms with the direction I want to take my work…”
My life.
“And where do you think Jamie Kent is headed, post...breakups?”
The plural wasn’t lost on him, but it threw him enough that his brain slipped off track and he shook his head after a moment. “Sorry. What was the question?”
“What do you think you’d like to do now?” The man smiled at him like he knew a secret, not unkind, but a little too understanding.
“I’m going to open up an arts center in Anniston Falls. A recording studio and theatre where disadvantaged youth can make music, and art, and…” The idea, half-formed, tumbled from his lips, much like Wren’s stream of consciousness babbling, and something cracked free in his chest along with his laughter. “I don’t even know what made me say that, but yeah. I’m selling my house and ditching L.A. Starting my own label.”
“You’re going to stop making music?” Poor dude looked like he’d just had a pile of dog shit dropped in his lap.
“Fuck no. I wouldn’t fucking do that.”
Eat my profanity, Doms everywhere.
He dropped in a few more F-bombs, fantasizing Noah would hear an interview that would never cross his attention. Pushing boundaries just because he hoped the next one he bumped up against would bring the man to his doorstep. To him.
‘You kiss your Master with that mouth, boy?’
“It’s all Indie all the time for Jamie Kent, folks. You heard it here first on Damnation Nation.”
Taking out his guitar, Jamie performed Got No Soul and Power Lines after the break. Outside, it was dark when he left and drove home, taking the curves slower than he had in months. He felt the rush of the wind and the road stretching out before him like a possibility.
Noah might not sit beside him.
But he was going home.
Chapter Thirty-One
For three weeks the media presence forced The Asylum to remain closed. Noah had unintentionally turned the walls of the haven he’d help build into a prison once. And that’s what it felt like again. Only, this time, the world tried to trap his family there with him.
Phones rang nonstop, drones flew overhead, trying to catch a glimpse through curtains that were always shut, to see who was inside any car that came or went. He’d asked Rhodey to take Reed and Ezran to Tracey’s days after the media first descended on the club. Hired a PR agency to field calls and come up with some way to take the focus off Reed. They hadn’t had much luck, but at least he was safely out of reach. Rhodey made damn sure his sister couldn’t be traced—there were people far more dangerous than a few reporters who’d love to know where she lived. So far, she’d stayed off the radar. And Reed’s absence had the press losing interest in the nonstory.
But that didn’t erase the damage that had already been done.
The Asylum was open again, and to the members, everything was back to normal. Seven weeks with fights every weekend. Lawson and Curtis handling business, approving new members, keeping things running as smoothly as they had before he’d returned.
Which was good, because unless they came to him directly with an issue, he’d stay out of their way. His focus was where it should have been from the beginning. On Reed and Ezran.
Lawson had asked him to come back to The Asylum for a few days as tax season approached, and the mundane work had been a good distraction, but like everything else, it didn’t last. His life was in a strange holding pattern. He rarely gave himself time to think. To feel. But no matter how he tried to keep himself busy with repairs at his mother’s, or any physical task he could handle at The Asylum as he regained his strength, part of him remained in place. Holding that collar in his hand as he ripped his own heart from his chest.
Don’t ever forgive me, little cat. I’ve earned your hate. Use it to take everything you deserve from this fucked up world. From everyone who's ever hurt you. Including me.
Standing in the center of his loft, Noah stared at his closed bedroom door, throat tightening before he forced himself to turn away and resume folding the blankets he’d left on the sofa. He hadn’t been back in there, except to grab clothes, since he’d made Jamie leave. Everything about the space reminded him of his boy. His soft smiles as he climbed into bed to lay in Noah’s arms. His frustrated tears when he couldn’t get something right. The triumph in his eyes when he did. The stolen time they’d shared, cut short twice.
By him.
A soft knock brought his attention to the door as Curtis came in, a rucksack slung over his shoulder. He met Noah’s eyes and gave him a stiff smile. “Ready to go?”
Noah nodded, following him out, locking his door behind him. He didn’t need to bring anything, most of his clothes were at his mother’s anyway. Without Jamie here, The Asylum
didn’t feel like home.
Nowhere did.
They took his car and silence held for the short drive. His relationship with Curtis had been strained since the morning Reed’s name had ended up in the headlines. That he’d let Jamie leave without countering any of the claims made in the newspapers and magazines pissed him off. He wasn’t thrilled with Lawson either, who’d learned of an assault charge against Jamie for punching one of the paparazzi and made it go away in the way he had that he never explained to anyone.
Fuck, twisted as it was, Noah was proud of his boy. He’d avoided most of the reports and gossip and videos, which Ezran went over and over almost religiously, but that clip he’d watched again and again.
Matt had seen him doing so once, in the bar, and gave him a sad smile. For a moment it looked like he’d say something. But he went back to cleaning, heaviness hanging over him like the shadow that seemed to hover around The Asylum, stealing all the light and life from the place.
At his mother’s, things weren’t much better. But they were usually quiet. A CRASH and raised voices hit him the second he stepped through the door. He frowned, exchanging a look with Curtis before they both cut across the living room, into the kitchen where Reed and Ezran faced off, both shaking with rage.
“I can’t believe you just did that!”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? First, you’re so upset you hardly talk to anyone, and now you’re listening to that shit?” Ezran’s jaw ticked as he glared at his brother, who he’d be taller than within the next few months if this growth spurt continued. The teen lost his temper at the flick of a switch, but usually defending Reed. Other than the odd teasing, or natural sibling rivalry, Noah couldn’t recall a single time Ezran had lashed out at Reed like this.
Reed swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I don’t care if you don’t understand. He was my friend.” He clutched a wireless speaker to his chest. The casing was cracked and pieces of it were scattered on the floor around his and Ezran’s feet. “You don’t get to be angry for me. I don’t blame him, so get the fuck over it.”
Curtis stepped forward. “Reed, can we—”
“No! That same goes for you. You’re all so fucking worried, but when I mention his name, you don’t want to talk about it.” Eyes narrowed, Reed turned to Noah. “You should listen to Jamie’s new album. I think you’ll...enjoy it.”
Noah winced, inhaling slowly as Reed spun around and stormed out of the room. No one had mentioned Jamie’s name to him in over two months. He’d accepted it, well aware that everyone was afraid he’d be triggered and go off the deep end again.
“He’s too fucking much.” Ezran shook his head, turning to Curtis as though sure he had an ally. “You need to deal with him.”
Gaze hardening, Curtis moved closer to the teen, his voice low. “Go take a walk. I’ll deal with you later.”
The front door opened, his mother and Rhodey coming in, arms full of grocery bags, moving aside as Ezran broke past them and took off running. Noah held his breath, listening for the sound of a car engine, wondering how far he’d have to go to bring the boy back this time.
Nothing. Good. Now all they had to worry about was the boy getting himself lost in the woods.
His mother brought the groceries to the kitchen, shaking her head. “What the hell happened?”
Hands laced behind his neck, Curtis let out a bitter laugh. “What do you think? Any mention of...him is like dropping a goddamn grenade.”
Rhodey looked at Noah, his brow furrowed. “I told you to let him go. Why is he being brought up at all?”
The air in the room thickened. Too hot. The flesh along his spine itched and he rolled his shoulders, tearing his gaze from his uncle’s. There was no point in making excuses. He’d brought Jamie into all of their lives by keeping him at The Asylum for so long. Hurt them. Hurt Jamie. Pushing him away had been best for everyone.
Except...he didn’t really believe that.
Going still by his side, Curtis stared at Rhodey. “What do you mean, you ‘told him’?”
“You know exactly what I mean, boy.” Rhodey’s tone was hard, and after a glance at Noah, he locked his gaze on Curtis. “Jamie’s manager was at The Asylum for him. He shared those photos, made up those stories, because Jamie still belongs to L.A. To the spotlight. And he always will.”
That’s not true. He never belonged to them. He was mine.
But he couldn’t be. Didn’t want to be. Noah had told him to go back and make his decision. He brought his hand to his left wrist, clasping the cuff he only removed to shower. Jamie had made his choice. Noah respected that. Fuck, he wanted his boy to…
Not yours anymore.
He pressed his eyes shut.
A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. His mother spoke softly. “Noah, why did you make Jamie leave?”
“I…” Noah inhaled. Forced a smile. Calm settled over him. “Rhodey’s right. He needed the freedom to choose what he wanted. I did what I had to do.”
She blinked at him. Cupped his cheek and nodded slowly. “Oh, my baby. We went too far. Jamie’s not the one who needed freedom. He already had it. You still don’t.” Something hard and cold passed through her eyes. Something he hadn’t seen since he was a boy and she was facing one of his father’s ‘business partners’. Telling him to get the fuck out of her house before she put a bullet between his eyes.
Swiveling, she snapped her fist into Rhodey’s mouth.
Then the heels of her palms slammed into her brother’s chest. Not giving him time to react before she shoved him into the kitchen table. “How dare you. How fucking dare you. This training you did, it went further than teaching him to fight, than any kind of discipline.” She shoved him again. “What the fuck did you do to my son?”
Blood slicked Rhodey’s lips, trailing down his chin. The man never let his guard down. He could’ve blocked the punch. He’d let his older sister hit him. Accepted her anger.
But his expression didn’t change. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“When he was transporting guns? Maybe not. When he was ready to kill people? Fine. I fucking hate it, but I couldn’t save him myself.” Her voice broke and tears spilled down her cheeks. “But this...goddamn it, Rhodey. He was happy and you took that away from him.”
“It wouldn’t have lasted.” Rhodey swiped away the blood. “And when Jamie did leave him, who knows what that would’ve done to him?”
With an irate groan, Tracey threw her hands up. “Yes, who fucking knows? What are you going to do, stay with him for the rest of his life, refusing to let him enjoy anything in case it might be taken away? Your job is done. He’s his own man. A good man. One you helped him become.” She poked Rhodey in the center of his chest when he shook his head. “I don’t care if you believe it. Whatever control you have over him, cut it off. End it.”
“I can’t.” Rhodey sighed, lowering his gaze. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have used it, not like that. But it’s not something I can take back.”
Take it back? Hell no.
That couldn’t happen. Without Rhodey, Noah would still be ruining everything he touched. Hurting everyone around him. The man always looked out for those Noah had asked him to. He kept them safe.
But who had kept Jamie safe? Who did Jamie have now? There had to be someone. Better than Noah. Stronger. Not so fucking broken he’d needed Rhodey to make him see why he couldn’t keep him.
“Mom, I love you, but please don’t be mad at him.” He pulled his mother to him. Dried her tears, hating that he’d managed to hurt her too. “He’s always made the right decisions for me. I’m sorry I made things so damn hard, but I’ll do better.”
“You’ve done so much good, Noah. So fucking much, and you don’t even see it.” She smoothed her hands over his hair. Looked into his eyes. “Do you know what you gave Jamie? The kind of love and care he never had from anyone. You gave him a family.”
He swallowed. With a slow nod, he accepted the pain and regret he knew he’d c
arry for the rest of his life. “And because of me, he’s lost that too.”
Her brow rose. “Has he? I’m still here. And if you don’t go after him, my boy, I will.”
“But I...can’t.” Even considering it gave him the sensation of being torn in two. He loved Jamie. He’d never stop loving him. But love wasn’t some magic cure. He couldn’t reason his way around what Rhodey told him to do. No matter how he looked at it, his uncle’s words stuck. Forcing Jamie to stay, making him come back, would be wrong.
A firm slap landed on the center of his back. Curtis jutted his chin toward the door, the closed-off expression that had been on his face for the past two months gone. “Let’s talk.”
Outside gray clouds crept across the blue sky, smudging over the sun, lending a dark cast to the muddy landscape, spotted with patches of Spring snow. By the chill in the air, it would all freeze overnight, making the paths dangerously slick. He needed to put down some salt.
“Hey.” Curtis snapped his fingers, chuckling at the dark look Noah gave him. “There you are. Fucking sticks with you. To the point that you want it, you need it, because it’s so much fucking easier even when control’s given back. You trust the one who has it more than you trust yourself.”
That brought Noah’s brows up. “You’ve made it clear you don’t trust me.”
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, Curtis looked over the dirt road. The edge of his lips quirked as Ezran came down it, shoulders hunched, head down. “We all say stupid shit when we’re pissed. Do you want me to apologize?”
Noah snorted at the implication in the man’s tone. “No, that’s quite all right.”
“Your loss.” Curtis took a deep breath. “The closer you are to the person who completely mindfucks you, the stronger it is. Now that Rhodey’s not here, what do you want to do?”
After two months, what the hell could he do? He rolled his shoulders, trying to accept where fate had brought him, whether he liked it or not. The weight of the cuff on his left wrist was all he’d allowed himself, a piece of what Jamie had given him, all that he hadn’t forced him to take back. Something everyone could see, but no one dared mention. “He’s moved on. It wouldn’t be fair to drag him back into this mess because I miss him.”
Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3 Page 41