by Baylin Crow
The room was painted a calming sage gray with white and gray-streaked granite countertops and top of the line appliances. A large bouquet of pastel flowers in a crystal vase that had begun to wilt—which I assumed was from the twins’ lack of care—was placed in the center of a long rustic dining table that sat eight. A stark difference to my uncle's house that was only fitted with basic necessities and decor, yet both brought me comfort in their familiarity.
He opened the stainless-steel refrigerator and pulled out three water bottles, tossing one to each of us.
"Are your parents still in New York?" I croaked out after taking a sip of the cold water, letting it soothe me enough to stop the trembling in my hands.
"Yep, until next week," CJ answered. "Let's take this to the basement."
We walked through the house and went down a flight of stairs. The basement had been converted into a game room before I'd met the twins. A pool table took up a third of the room. In the center, a couch and two recliners sat in front of a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall with a gaming system set up beneath it on clear shelves.
A mini-fridge and microwave sat next to a sink in the corner along with a stash of snacks piled into a wire bin. There was even a half bath attached to the room.
Unfortunately, it smelled like sweaty athletes and dirty gym socks. But I barely noticed.
Caleb claimed a recliner while CJ sat at one end of the couch, patting the cushion next to him.
I shook my head and took the free recliner so I could lay the seat back and curl up, hugging my knees.
CJ frowned and slung an arm over the back of the couch. "So, what happened?"
Stalling, I twisted the cap on my water back and forth. They waited patiently until I sighed.
"So, I was at work and got a text from Phoenix asking me to come pick him up because something was wrong with his car. I thought it was weird because he was supposed to work until close, and as far as I knew, nothing was wrong with his car." I shrugged one shoulder. "So, I went to pick him up, thinking he'd meet me outside, but he didn't. He wasn't answering his phone either. So, after a while, I went to find him."
"This is exactly what I was talking about," Caleb interrupted, jumping to his own conclusion.
CJ shot him a glare. "Let him finish, asshole."
"Sorry, I'm just saying I knew his job would be a problem. No one wants to see their girlfriend"—he tilted his chin toward me—"or boyfriend, air fucking someone. Touching or not. Right, Arch?"
"It's not that." I frowned because I supposed that was only partially true. "Of course, I'm not a huge fan of his job, but I trust—trusted him."
"Trusted." CJ's jaw hardened, and his frosty blue eyes lowered to slits.
"What exactly did he do?" Caleb asked, suspicion heavy in his tone.
I closed my eyes because I wouldn't be able to tell the story while they read the emotions inevitably passing over my face.
"The club was closed to the public for the owner's birthday. They were throwing a big invitation-only party for him." I paused. "I can't remember if I already told y'all that. But anyway, when I couldn't get ahold of him, I thought the only option I had left was to ask the guy at the front door to get a message to Phoenix. Everyone was in suits and dresses, dolled up, so it was clear I didn't belong. But my name was on the list, which I didn't understand." I blew out a deep breath. "Long story short, I went upstairs to the VIP, searching for Phoenix and…I found him." My throat constricted again, and I struggled to finish. "He… He was dancing, not off work like I expected."
"So, you got upset and left?" Caleb asked with an uncharacteristically soft tone.
"Yes, but that's not the whole story." My eyes opened, letting them in on my misery. "The guy that showed up at that party and caused problems…"
CJ nodded. "Evan's cousin. I was filled in on their history. What happened?"
"If this is going where I think it is, I'm going to kill your boyfriend," Caleb answered. "This is why you shouldn't fuck coworkers or friends."
"The fuck is wrong with you?" CJ darted a pillow at Caleb who easily plucked it out of the air.
I sniffed and Caleb, quick to his feet, dropped to his knees in front of me. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just pissed at him, and I have a big mouth. You know I don't always think through the stupid shit I say."
Looking away, I bit my lip. "Well, it was the truth. But Phoenix promised Aiden meant nothing to him, and that it had been over for a long time. When I saw them together at the party, I believed him. Tonight, when I found Phoenix, Aiden was glued to his back. The way he moved and touched him, it made me sick. The worst part…the part that killed me…Phoenix didn't push him away. Not really." I dropped my gaze to the concrete floor. "The whole thing was a set up. The text I got to pick up Phoenix? That was from Aiden. He saw me before Phoenix did and stared at me while my heart broke."
"I'm going to kill them," Caleb growled.
"I'll help," CJ promised, and I quickly shook my head and filled them in on what Phoenix had said afterward. I told them about Damon and the woman who'd broken up the scene just before I'd tucked tail and ran. By the end, they knew everything that had happened.
Silent tension swelled between the three of us, and I startled when my phone rang loud from my pocket.
"You gonna get that?" CJ asked when it continued to ring.
"No. It'll just be Phoenix again," I mumbled and relaxed slightly when my phone went silent.
"You think he's telling the truth?" Caleb asked as he moved back to the recliner. "Because I can see that actually happening. I've had some girls pull some crazy shit before."
The trust I had in Phoenix overpowered my doubts. But… "What if I'm just being naïve and end up looking stupid? It’s obvious Aiden was the one that messaged me, but I keep thinking what if he was trying to show me what was really going on between them. How was he able to get into his phone?"
Even as I spoke, the words sounded wrong. The things I was questioning didn’t sound like my Phoenix. And that’s why I wasn’t sure I could trust myself.
"I don’t have all the answers, but looking stupid? That's not going to happen, Arch," CJ said adamantly. "If he breaks your heart, then he's going to be the stupid one, not you. I guess you need to ask yourself how much you really do trust him."
"And revisit whether his job is going to be a problem," Caleb added. "You deserve to be happy, not just okay with it."
CJ nodded. "For once, I agree with him, Arch. For both you and Phoenix, you need to decide what you are really okay with. Otherwise, the relationship already has an expiration date."
Still drenched in heartache, I had no idea what I was okay with. I knew I couldn't handle Aiden being in any part of our lives. He was bent on destroying what Phoenix and I had, which was already being tested.
CJ reached across the couch and gripped my thigh, giving me a shake. "Do you love him?"
"Yeah," I said softly, and they both nodded as if they expected as much. And I did. I loved Phoenix with everything I had. I wasn’t sure when the transition from infatuation had bloomed into love, but it had, and it was the first time I admitted it to myself.
Caleb shifted in his chair and swiped his black hair from his forehead. "If you really do believe him, you should talk to him. But you need to be clear about what you can and can't deal with."
"Agreed," CJ said. "And if it does cost him his job…well, he needs to make a decision too. You don't need to just find a way to put up with it. I wouldn't."
"Neither would I, if I ever decided to date someone exclusively." Caleb made a face as if the idea of a girlfriend was repulsive.
"No danger of that," I quipped with only a slight tremor in my voice, feeling lighter after unburdening myself on my best friends.
They were both silent as they likely struggled to shift gears, according to my mood and tone, before they both burst out laughing.
"I'm wounded, Arch. That's fucked up." Caleb grabbed his chest.
&n
bsp; CJ rolled his eyes at his twin before turning back to me. "You can just stay here tonight. Relax and kick it with us."
Before I could reply, he scrambled off the couch, turned on the console and retrieved two game controllers. He held one out to me.
My nose scrunched. "I hate video games."
"You're playing," he insisted, and I reluctantly accepted it with a huff.
It sounded much better than going home anyway. I wasn't ready to face Phoenix, and the stress had given me a slight headache. I switched my phone to silent and left it on the arm of the couch.
Caleb whistled. "I’ve got ten dollars on Arch."
"You already owe me fifty," CJ pointed out. "None of which I actually expect to see."
"And that right there is exactly why I love you. You know me well." Caleb manipulated his hands to shape a heart, and CJ groaned.
"He's so fucking annoying," he whispered as he pushed buttons to start the game.
My gaze turned to the screen, and I prepared to lose as a basketball game loaded.
"Let's do this!" CJ whooped as his competitive nature geared up. He flashed me a grin. "I apologize for kicking your ass in advance."
I knew I had a lot to think about, and decisions to make, but that could wait until I'd slept and gathered my thoughts.
18
Phoenix
My vision blurred as I began to read one of the many mundane job listings I'd been combing through most of the day while lying on the couch. I'd hit Apply Now so many times I couldn't even remember all of the positions I had applied for.
Customer Service Representative
Job Description: We are seeking customer service professionals who enjoy face to face—
My phone pinged with a text. The skip of my heart, thinking it might be Archer, settled when I saw it was only Damon. Disappointed but still grateful for the distraction, I clicked on the notification.
Damon: Guess who didn't show up for work?
I didn't need to guess. Desi wouldn't listen to me, but she'd sure as shit cover her ass now that she was aware someone had breached their system. My jaw clenched just thinking his name as I tapped out a reply.
Me: Starts with an A and ends with douche.
His response came seconds later.
Damon: Close enough. Des told me to mind my own damn business when I asked about him. But he won't be back.
Not that it did me any good now, but I was still glad he'd gotten fired. If only she'd taken the multiple complaints I'd made regarding him seriously, none of us would be in the current mess.
While I'd been busy stewing over the whole thing, another text came through.
Damon: On a brighter note, the scenery is top notch today.
Knowing Damon, scenery was code for some guy he was fantasizing about sucking off. A mental image I could do without.
Me: ?
Damon: The IT guys she brought in are smoking hot. Who knew I had a thing for the nerdy vibe?
My lips twitched. I wasn't sure Damon even had a type.
Me: Interested?
Damon: No, but that doesn't mean I didn't offer free private dances.
I snorted. Of course he did.
The sound of an engine approached and I pushed off the couch, striding to the window. I peeked through the blinds and sighed when a red sedan pulled into the driveway across the street.
Pathetically, I'd been doing the same thing all day, hoping one of them would be Archer coming home.
I rubbed my temples, trying to alleviate the building headache from staring at my phone and stressing about Archer. Dragging my feet back to the living room, I dropped onto the couch and replied to the last text.
Me: No takers?
Damon: Straight and married. *sad emoji* Weren’t interested in finding out if they might be even a little gay either.
I shook my head. Poor guys probably wished they'd called in sick to work after dealing with Damon.
Me: Shouldn't you be working?
Before I could hit send, my phone rang and I winced as a spike of pain stabbed behind my eyes. Unknown Caller hovered on the screen, and I quickly turned down the escalating ringtone.
I considered letting it go to voice-mail to screen the call, especially with everything that had happened yesterday. But with Archer still not home or returning my messages, I had to admit I was growing worried.
I tapped answer. "Hello?"
A cacophony of sounds crashed through the speaker, making me wince again. "The fuck, Drake? You asshole, pick up your shit!" A man growled on the line, and my eyebrows shot high. "Shit. Hello? Hello?"
I debated hanging up because…what the fuck? "Can I help you?"
"Probably not. I'm a lost cause." He paused to laugh at his own joke, and another voice groaned in the background. The guy's voice pulled away from the phone. "Whatever, dick. I'm hilarious." He chuckled at whatever was said, and then he was back. "Sorry, man, not you. I mean, you may be a dick… Is this Phoenix?"
I frowned because again, what the fuck? "Who's this?"
"We don't need him!" a man with a gravelly voice yelled in the background. "Hang up the fucking phone."
"No can do. Now shut up, D." There was a spark of humor woven in his tone.
"This is such bullshit." They continued to argue, possibly forgetting I was even on the phone. An afterthought at best, and I was tempted to agree with the guy who suggested we end the call. But I was also curious at this point.
I groaned and stood up, heading for the kitchen and digging in the cabinet for pain relievers. Snagging a water bottle, I took two pills.
Leaning against the counter, I cleared my throat. "So maybe you should sort that out and call me back at a better time."
"Hey, no! Sorry, I'm here. Drake's being an asshole. So… your agent submitted this little love song. The lyrics are sweet, not like cotton fuckin' candy—though it is fluffier than the pancakes my grandma makes on Sunday mornings. But I meant skilled. We—"
"My agent?" I interrupted with a confused frown. What the hell was he talking about?
"Phoenix Ryan, right?" He didn't give me time to reply. "Your agent, Archer West, knows one of my guys and sent me this sweet little ballad to take a look at." He sighed dramatically. "Fuckin' beautiful, really."
"Archer…" I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Okay, who is this again?"
He scoffed. "Do you and your agent not talk at all or something? You may need to look into new representation. Of course, then you might not be talking to me." A cocky edge slicked his tone, and I bit back the frustrated string of curses sitting on the tip of my tongue.
"Sit down, Gage, you're high." Another muffled voice joined in with a laugh.
How many of them were there? Two of them had been difficult enough. "I'll be sure to speak to my agent, Gage…"
He huffed as if I was the pain in the ass. "Gage Flex, drummer—"
My skin broke out in chill bumps and my mind raced. "Courting Echoes."
"Thank fuck. I was beginning to wonder if this shit was a prank Dylan pulled."
"Dylan…" I started as I tried to piece the chaotic conversion together. But Courting Echoes, one of my favorite bands, was on my damn phone and that's about as far as I could think.
"My ink artist, man. What does it matter?" He huffed. "And I'm not high, so don't go running to the press with that shit."
"See?" The guy in the background shouted. "How the fuck can I work with that?"
Was that Drake fucking Avery? What an asshole. And yet, it was the sweetest fucking sound. Next to Archer's greedy little moans of course. Headache forgotten, I paced the small kitchen as the argument between them picked back up.
"Christ, you're annoying. Go take a fucking Midol, D." The sound of a door slamming thudded down the line, and the background noise grew quiet.
"I know who Dylan is," I said as the conversation slowly began to make sense, though I still had several questions. "And I didn't plan on selling a stupid story about you to anyone."
&nb
sp; "Good. I need a smoke to deal with them, I swear." The snick of a lighter was followed by a deep inhale. "Okay, so long story short. We seriously can't do shit with this song you wrote for your boyfriend or whatever. But you write with a similar style to Drake. I'll warn you now, he is fully against this. But me and the other guys want to see if you can produce material to fit our brand. I assume you're familiar with our music."
"Of course I am," I quickly replied, almost offended. I owned every one of their albums and had been to multiple concerts they'd headlined.
"Excellent." He inhaled again. "I'm glad we finally know what the fuck were talking about. I'll text you my manager's info. He's expecting the call and will tell you where to submit it when you're done. We're looking for a ballad. Something that will rip people's hearts to shreds and then have them begging us for more. Sound good?"
"Uh, yeah, bu—"
"Awesome, looking forward to it. Later, man." The phone went dead, and I pulled it away, staring at the screen. What just happened?
Once the initial shock wore off, my first instinct was to tell Archer. I pulled up our messages and my fingers hovered over the keyboard, but I paused as I read through all the messages I'd sent that were never responded to. My fingers closed tight around the black phone case as I backed out to the home screen.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I let out a frustrated sigh and reached under the couch, pulling my notebook out. I turned to a clean page and just stared at it as a bubble of laughter rose in my throat. How did I possibly lose the one thing I didn't know I even needed until recently, and then gain the possibility of reaching the fucking stars for a songwriter all within a twenty-four hour period?
I was still staring at the blank sheet when the sound of an engine pulled in next door. Isaac's car sounded like a beast on steroids, so the soft purr had to be Archer. I was on my feet in seconds and stepped onto the front porch just as Archer's dark blue car door popped open. He climbed out wearing yesterday's clothes, and his hair was messier than ever.
The cut grass tickled my bare feet as I crossed my yard and then onto the concrete that had baked in the sun all day. I cursed as the heat seared the soles of my feet. The quick thought I had about grabbing shoes disappeared when he turned to face me.