“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “Your crew is amazing! I’ve never worked with a more professional group. It’s nothing like that.”
“Did you know that guy tonight?” he asked, his voice turning husky.
“Nope.” I shivered. “He was a little creepy.”
“I think I need to hire some security,” he mused aloud. “Taylor’s on edge when Coraline is away from him and I think it might be best. The shows we are at are getting busier and busier. I don’t want you…or anyone to get hurt.”
“That’s really up to you,” I replied, watching him deep in thought. His forehead creased as he stared off into space. It gave me a moment to trace his features with my eyes.
Grant “Ace” Ryker wasn’t built like Taylor or their drummer, Braxton, but he was still muscular. His chest was sculpted like an artist had made him with the finest tools available. Ace’s cut jaw ticked as he thought. He kept his face shaved and his hair loose, the curls hanging perfectly just past his jawline.
“It would kill me if something happened to anyone,” he said, blinking out of his thoughts.
“Thanks, Ace, but I can handle my own when it comes to the fans.” I shrugged. “Plus, I have the guys.”
“They didn’t see that man jerk you back to his side,” he added, then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I’m just skittish with what happened to Cora.”
Coraline, their tour manager, had been attacked by a guy with a score to settle for her walking in on him preparing drugs to sell. She’d been shot up with heroin and almost died. It was one of the scariest things that could happen while on tour, but also an isolated incident. The guy wasn’t a crazy fan, just a temporary roadie. He’d been caught and was currently sitting in jail, but it still rattled everyone that it could happen to anyone of us.
“You have every right to be worried, but so far, everything is going smoothly,” I reminded him.
“Presley!” Garrison called out, stepping off the bus and searching the area. When his eyes landed on me, he relaxed his stance but didn’t make a move to come toward us. A soft smile turned up the corners of his lips and I frowned slightly. It wasn’t like Garrison to smile at some guy talking to me. Usually, he’d pull the big brother routine and intimidate whoever I was talking to.
“I’ll let you get some rest. See you in New Orleans.” Ace smiled, turning to head toward his own bus.
“You ready to go?” Garrison asked as I approached our home on wheels. He watched Ace as he climbed the stairs to his own bus and only made eye contact with me after the lead singer for Fatal Cross had disappeared.
“Yes, I’m ready,” I answered, following Garrison up the steps. I took a seat and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. I was so tired. Drake leaned over and kissed my forehead, mumbling about getting something to eat.
“What did Ace want?” Garrison smiled, then narrowed his eyes like he was trying to read my mind. That was definitely something I was thankful he couldn’t do at the moment, because the lead singer of Fatal Cross kicked my temperature up a few degrees.
“He was actually checking on me.” I looked down, a slight blush creeping up my cheeks. “It was kind of nice.”
“Humph,” Brian grumbled, his head buried in the small refrigerator to my left.
“Be careful with him, Pres,” Drake warned from his seat at the small table. “He’s been through some stuff.”
“Haven’t we all?” I asked, accepting a soda from Garrison. “It’s not my place to judge him.”
“I’m not saying anything about judging,” he said, then sighed. “Just be careful.”
“Okay.” I nodded. I’d take their warnings to heart, but I had to make my own decisions about Ace. These guys, my bandmates and brothers, had always been overprotective, and I appreciated it more than I think they knew. “I think I’m just going to call it a night. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
“Goodnight,” they said in unison.
I quickly changed and climbed into my bunk after closing the door that separated the sleeping quarters from the front of the bus, drowning out any noise the guys would be making. As I drifted off to sleep, I prayed the nightmares would stay away, but I was never that lucky.
Daddy will be so mad at me. I fell off my bike again and scraped my knee. There was a company picnic tomorrow and I wouldn’t be able to wear my shorts to keep myself cool. It was summertime, and I hated wearing those scratchy pants they’d make me wear when it was hot. If I wore those and I got too hot, I always felt sick and my head would swirl around and around. That wasn’t a good feeling at all.
“What the fuck did you do, Presley?” he yelled as I walked in from the garage.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” I pleaded. “I didn’t mean to fall…please don’t be mad. Brinkley’s puppy ran in front of my bike and I fell.”
“You little fucking bitch!” he roared, backhanding me hard and sending me to my knees. “You are to be presentable when we go somewhere! Now look what you’ve done! I cannot believe you’d do this to me. Go to your room!” He grabbed me by the back of my shirt, pulling me up and making the shirt pull at my throat. When I didn’t move fast enough, he growled and pulled at his belt. I knew what was coming, and all I could do was go to my happy place in my head until he left me alone or tossed me on my bed.
“No, daddy…please,” I begged one last time.
“Shut up,” he snarled. “Eight years old and you can’t follow simple god-dammed directions!”
The first lash was across the back of my bare legs, and each lash after that was above the last. I never knew what I’d done so wrong that he felt the need to hit me so hard. Maybe I was a bad girl. They’d told me in Sunday school that God loved all of the children, only punishing those who were bad. I guess I was one of those bad girls, because God finally gave up and didn’t love me anymore. Maybe…
“No, daddy…stop,” I cried out as he lashed my lower back. I tried to hold it, but I couldn’t, and I knew that I’d get more than just a few licks of the belt when he saw the puddle at my feet.
Oh God, please. I wanted to be a good girl. Don’t hate me…please, God…help me!
I gasped, crying out as I sat straight up in the bunk, knocking my head on the bottom of the bunk above me. “Motherfucker!”
“Presley!” Garrison yelped, dropping out of his bunk and throwing open the curtain to mine. Warm arms encircled my body, pulling me close to his chest. “Talk to me, baby girl.”
“I’m okay,” I whispered, rubbing my forehead against his neck. Damn, Garrison always knew how to keep me sane after one of those stupid dreams. Those damn things weren’t even dreams. They were actual events from my childhood.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “You know it’s what the doc told you to do.” Did I mention that I went through about six months of therapy to help me overcome my childhood?
“And I always burden you with my issues.” I frowned. “I can’t keep doing that, Garrison. It’s not fair to you.”
“It’s completely fair, Pres,” he growled. “Hiding these events gives power over to him. You have come so far from the scared nineteen year old that I found in my apartment that morning. Damn, I swear, if I hadn’t have had this crazy feeling that I should come home, I think you would’ve died in my apartment. So, fuck yes, I am going to be here for you, because you are my best friend and it is my job to protect you even if it is from your dreams. Scoot over and let me hold you.”
“I love you, Garrison,” I sighed out, refusing to cry. This was a speech I’d heard a thousand times over since that morning he found me unconscious in his apartment. I knew he loved me like part of his family, and I could never repay him for the things he’d helped me with since that day. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, smiling. “Let’s sleep. We have tomorrow off and I’m sure you’d like to go shopping in New Orleans or something.”
I didn’t say any more and let my best friend hold me
for the rest of the night. Yes, it might have seemed like we had something going on, but ewww. No, I loved my bassist, but only as the big brother I never had. He understood more so than the rest what I’d been through. At least he had been strong enough to stand up to his abuser, unlike me, who stayed much longer than I ever should have.
Chapter 5
Presley
Coraline stayed back with the band. I’d forgotten that they had an interview to do at the local radio station, but she said they wouldn’t be gone very long. New Orleans was always one of my favorite cities to visit, and I’d lived here for a couple of months when I was getting on my feet about nine years ago. I remembered the place well and could pretty much find my way around the French Quarter with the map on my phone.
Brian, Garrison, and Drake were sleeping and I wasn’t going to wake them up to go shopping. I grabbed my bag and found a piece of paper to leave a note. There was one place I had no trouble finding in this city. It was one that I could find with my eyes closed.
Went shopping in the Quarter. Be back soon.
Our driver, Brent, smiled and opened the door, but didn’t ask where I was heading. I didn’t need a babysitter. I needed some quiet time and a new outfit. Retail therapy was sometimes the best therapy money could buy.
It was still early when we’d arrived, parking the buses behind the venue. Most places were pretty good about letting us use the space if we had a day off between shows. The guys would sleep for another few hours, but I planned on being back before noon anyway.
As I crossed Canal Street, I made my way through the pedestrians gathered at the bus stop and turned at the next intersection. I smiled when I saw the sign for the little antique shop just up ahead.
The bell over the door dinged as I entered. There were no employees visible, but I knew when I’d been seen, because a screech sounded out from the back room and my aunt bound through the tiny shop like a missile locked on its target.
“Presley!” Aunt Ginger laughed. “You’re here!”
“Hello, Auntie G!” I smiled, pulling her into my arms. I hugged her for what seemed like an hour, refusing to pull away from the only person I thought of as real family.
“Oh, baby girl,” she sighed, pulling back to look into my eyes. I knew she saw defeat written all over my face, and it didn’t take much for a large tear to build up in the corner of my eye. “Come on, let’s have some tea.”
Ginger was my mother’s sister and the only person other than my band mates that knew what hell I had gone through growing up. She’d tried to talk my parents into signing over custody to her when I was sixteen, but they wouldn’t budge. Not only did that not go over well for me, but Auntie G was no longer allowed as a guest in their home. It wasn’t until I’d run away that I contacted her to let her know I was free. Anytime I’d step foot in the state of Louisiana, she was the first person I’d visit.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling a chair out for me at a small, two person table in the back of her shop. All around were beautiful handmade clothes that the eccentric people who lived in the Quarter sold in her shop. There were dresses made of vintage lace, handbags made from hemp, voodoo dolls made by the hands of the Haitian immigrants who still practiced their craft, and so many other local specialties, one could spend an entire day in this place and not be disappointed.
“We will eventually end up in Denver,” I said, sipping my tea. It was some type of orange flavored leaf that I’d never tried before. I made a mental note to grab some before we left. I smiled when I tasted the heavy dose of honey she’d stirred into it. She was looking out for my voice.
“Humph.” She frowned at me. Ginger and I looked a lot alike. Her long brown hair curled almost identically to my own and we both had the same deep blue eyes. Where I got my height and thicker thighs from my mom, Auntie G was rail thin and short. She was younger than my mother by twelve years. They were close before I came along, but that all changed the time she’d come to visit and found me in my room with bruises on my throat. Ginger had fought tooth and nail to keep me safe from the man that sired me, but never contacted the police. As I got older, I’d asked her why she didn’t report him, and she’d said that my father had threatened to kill me before the cops could even make it in the door. She’d feared for my life. “I hope those boys get you in and out of there as quickly as possible. I don’t like you being in the same town as your father.”
“That’s the plan.” I shrugged, wanting to change the subject. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” She smiled. “I’ve lit a candle for you every night around the time you should be performing.” Auntie G was eccentric, and I loved her for not being afraid to be different.
“Thank you,” I told her and smiled, taking another sip of tea.
“So, who’s the guy?” she asked, giving me a knowing look.
“There is no guy,” I assured her, shaking my head.
“Hmm,” she said, tapping a weathered finger against her bottom lip. “Something tells me there is.”
“Um…” I blushed, this woman knew entirely too much. “The lead singer of the band we are on tour with…well, I really don’t know what to think about the guy.”
“Go on,” she urged, taking a sip of her tea. The mischievous glint to her eye had me smiling.
“He watches me almost every night,” I admitted. “He doesn’t seek me out for conversations, but he will act concerned when we do talk face to face. He’s…interesting, to say the least.” I explained the two times I bumped into him and how he made sure I was okay before walking away.
“Hmmm,” she drawled. “Sounds to me like he’s interested. Is he a good boy?”
“Boy?” I snorted. “No, Auntie G, Ace Ryker is no boy.”
“Is he hot?” She giggled. “I bet he’s handsome.”
“He’s rather attractive,” I admitted, feeling the heat creep up my neck and into my cheeks.
“Just be careful, Pres,” she warned, reaching across the small table to hold my hand. I watched as a shiver rolled through her shoulders. Before I could ask her what was wrong, she smiled widely and got up from her seat. “I have just the thing for you, dear. Come, try on these outfits I’ve been holding for you.”
We spent the next hour trying on new corsets she’d had hand crafted to fit my exact measurements. One was red lace over black leather that zipped up the front. Another one was purple lace over a soft, black material that covered my breasts perfectly. None of them would hinder me in anyway when I performed and there was no possibility that my girls would fall out as I exerted myself on the stage. I decided to wear the pale green one with black buckles for closures the next night, along with a leather skirt that had a slit halfway up my thighs. I had the perfect boots to go along with my new outfit. Ginger assured me that I looked amazing.
My phone pinged a text shortly after noon. When I looked at the message, I laughed silently at Garrison’s request.
Tell Auntie G we are on our way! We are all going out to lunch.
“The guys are heading this way,” I announced, watching as her face lit up in sheer excitement.
The same screech that was reserved for me was also heard the moment they walked in the door of her tiny shop. I had just finished putting my new outfits into a bag when I heard Ginger giggle. “Well, hello there, handsome. What’s your name?”
My heart galloped in my chest when I heard Ace greeting my aunt, “I’m Ace, ma’am.”
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered, my heart fluttering in my chest as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. “What is he doing here?”
“Presley,” she called out from the front. Before I could make it to the register, Ginger was walking toward me with her back to everyone. I stifled a giggle when she made a motion of fanning herself.
“Are you ready?” I asked, giving her a look to please not make a scene. Auntie G was rather…outgoing, you could say.
“Let me hang the sign in the window and we can leave.” I followed her to
the front of the store and placed my bags under the counter to pick up once we brought her back to the shop.
Everyone had tagged along with my band. Coraline and Taylor walked hand-in-hand as we navigated our way over to a local place for lunch. Garrison and Drake were up front talking to Ginger about our tour. Brian was in a deep discussion with Braxton and Cash about some new car that was about to be released.
“I didn’t know you had family here,” Ace mentioned, catching up to me and matching his steps with mine.
“Just my aunt,” I informed him, pausing for a moment so that we could cross the street. I didn’t stiffen when Ace pressed his hand to my lower back to guide me as we walked. The gesture sent warmth up my spine and I felt myself relax into his hold only a second or two before he released me. “We always spend the afternoon with her when we come through town. I don’t see her enough.”
“So, are your parents coming tonight?” Auntie G and Garrison both looked over their shoulder when they heard Ace’s question. They quickly looked forward, not saying anything.
“No, they don’t live here,” I said, looking away from his beautiful face. “They um…they live in Denver.”
“Oh.” He paused. There was a question in his green eyes. I could tell he wanted to know more but thought better of it. “It’ll be great if they come to the show there.”
“No,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t have contact with them, much. They won’t be there.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away for a moment as we continued to walk. I was a little taken back by the fact that he didn’t ask me to go into detail. Whenever I mentioned that I basically had nothing to do with my parents, most people wanted to know why. They wanted all of the gory details and then…then they wanted to give me advice to fix it. Little did they know, there was no fixing anything when it came to my parents and our relationship.
“Thank you,” I whispered, looking up into his beautiful eyes as he held the door open to the restaurant. Ace nodded but didn’t say anything as we were escorted to our seats.
Fatal Temptations (Fatal Cross Live! Book 2) Page 4