by Cari Quinn
I’d been trying to convince my mum of that practically since I could speak.
Simon lifted his head, narrowing his eyes. “A lot easier to count if you step into the footprints someone else left behind.”
“Once I get my start, I’ll be even bigger. Better.” I pressed on as Simon laughed. “I want the music more. That’s what I love at the root of it. You sold out for money. As if modeling could ever be the same as making music.”
And that was how I consoled myself when I wavered. When I reminded myself we weren’t so different, my brother and I.
There were a million different ways to sell your soul. Sometimes, the price was almost too steep.
“I can tell how much you love the music. That’s why you’re already using your little bit of fake fame to line up the groupies. Because it’s just about the music for you.” Simon’s mocking tone made me fist my hands at my sides. “Don’t bother trying to snow me, man. I’ve been where you are. I remember quite well. It was about getting up and getting out and stepping on whoever got in my way.”
I jerked a shoulder. “So? That’s what it takes to succeed. Do you expect me to apologize for it?”
“No. I expect you to understand I’m not some pussy who’ll stand by while you try to cash in on what I’ve created. If the name Kagan means anything now, it’s because of me. And you best believe I know how to fucking fight for what’s mine.”
With effort, I relaxed my jaw and smiled, slow and sure. “By all means.”
A beat passed while we held each other’s gaze. Then I gestured toward the door. “It’ll be daylight soon, and your little missus must be looking for you.”
“Don’t you dare even refer to her.”
“Or what? You’ll toss more money and threats at me for using the name I was born with? That’s mine every bit as much as yours?” I ran my tongue along the inside of my lower lip and tasted blood there…and fear. “Pity all your stocks and bonds can’t take that away from me too, isn’t it?”
Simon picked up the paper and ripped into pieces, tossing aside the shredded scraps.
I managed to laugh. “Luckily, I anticipated that and gave you my copy. Not the original. You won’t have access to that. Can’t risk losing it due to one of your little temper tantrums.”
Simon stalked to the door. “This isn’t over.”
The door slammed shut behind him.
Limping a little, I aimed for the angled windows that let so much light into the flat. Ignoring the stitch in my side, I pressed my palms to the glass and drew in deep breaths until the rapid thud of my heartbeat began to slow.
The scents of the city—sickly sweet flowers layered with the stench of the alley nearby—settled me. Reminded me of what I was doing.
And why.
How I had no bloody choice, unless I wanted to live and die in this hellhole.
Simon wasn’t going to back off. He also wouldn’t pave the road ahead of me with gold and glitter, that was for certain. The likelihood he would throw up roadblocks in my path was high. Simon had connections. He knew far more people in the music business than I could fathom.
If he wanted to, Simon could probably snuff out my career before it had even truly begun.
The anger and vitriol on Simon’s side had been unexpected. I’d known my older brother wouldn’t be happy about my existence. Why should he be? He clearly saw me as an interloper, a usurper to his rock god throne. A threat.
What I hadn’t anticipated was Simon seeming to hate my very existence even beyond the music. That I dared to breathe the same air.
Shared the same stingy sliver of familial pie.
It would be easier to believe it was simply because Simon had branded me a liar. But he’d seen the proof with his own eyes. Unless he figured I had forged that too. Forged the paperwork, forged the face and the voice so much like Simon’s own.
Conjured the same bitterness that lived in Simon out of thin air.
They had warned me it would be like this. He might share a bloodline, but he would never see me as family. So why not do exactly what he expected of me?
It wouldn’t be easy. But I wasn’t giving up.
I rolled my shoulders and stepped back from the window, staring at the handprints I’d left behind in the condensation on the glass.
My mobile phone chirped from my pocket. Another time of reckoning was at hand.
I pulled it out and lifted it to my ear without looking at the readout. I knew who it was.
“You saw the telly,” I said flatly.
“You know that’s not what we expected from you.”
“Maybe not, but it got him over here, so good enough.” I couldn’t keep the defensiveness out of my tone.
They never trusted me with anything. Not even this.
“And?”
“And he knows about me now, so we must be further ahead, right?”
“Not if he’s angry and mistrustful, which of course he would be after that disaster. You know how much hinges on this starting off right. Now we could be months if not years behind—”
“Maybe you could try giving me some credit. He’s my brother.”
“Who doesn’t know you from a stranger. That’s what you are to him. Less than that, because now he probably hates you and he doesn’t even know you.” Jerry swore under his breath. “She keeps telling me you aren’t the stubborn brat I’ve always thought you were, and then you do this. You could ruin everything. And for what? To improve your chances for your little variety show?”
The derision in Jerry’s voice made me grip the phone tighter. “I’ll still be in LA by the end of next week. You can bank on it.”
“You better hope so. Or else you won’t like what happens next. Neither will she.”
“Where is she? Put her on.”
“Don’t you worry about where she is. Just do your goddamn job.”
Jerry clicked off and I threw my phone on the couch, then wished I’d shattered it against the window instead.
Fucking hell. I had to get to LA.
Simon might not like it, but we were going to be seeing a lot more of each other.
If my older brother wanted a fight, I would be ready.
Seven
Sunlight burned the backs of Margo’s eyes. She groaned, not wanting to see it just yet. She’d been having such a lovely dream. About a picnic in the park and a patchwork quilt laid on bright green grass. Simon had been feeding her fat, juicy green grapes, dangling them over her mouth for her to lean up and nibble. She’d laughed every time her teeth had pierced the delicious fruit. Simon had laughed too, and in the background, there had been more laughter. Closer to cooing. She’d turned her head, smiling already at the sound, and opened her eyes to…
Nothing.
A deserted bed.
Light filled an empty hotel room.
She slid her hand across the sheets and found them not only cool but cold. Frowning, she sat up and glanced around, looking for some clue where he might’ve gone.
No note. No obvious disarray.
No Simon.
Her husband wasn’t an early riser. That was her role. She was often up even before the sun, and usually started her day with yoga or Pilates. Not today. Judging from the amount of light in the room, she was way later than usual. She grabbed her phone and gasped at the time.
7:15.
Jeez, how unlike her. Of course, her husband had worn her out the night before, and there were now other mitigating factors too.
Biting on her thumbnail, she scrolled to her text messages just in case she’d missed something. Maybe he’d hit the hotel gym early. Really early. It didn’t even look as if the bed had been slept in on his side.
What the hell?
Nothing from Simon. She texted him, and predictably, received no response. After waiting a couple of minutes, she called and it went straight to voicemail.
Keeping her voice steady, she told him to call her. To let her know where he was, and if he needed her to come to him.
T
here was more she wanted to say. So much. Anger and frustration tangled inside her, tightening her throat. But “I love you” was the last thing she said.
After hitting the end button, she made herself check her other texts and calls.
She’d missed one from her little sister. Her very preggo sister. Jules was firmly in her third trimester and so adorably round that Margo couldn’t help patting her belly every time she saw her.
It wasn’t like Jules to call this early. She called her back before her brain fully engaged.
Jules answered on the second ring. “About time.”
“Are you okay? Is it the baby? You’re not having contractions, are you?”
“Whoa there, take a breath. No, I’m fine. The baby’s fine. Staying inside and cooking properly just like he or she should.” Jules paused. “Are you all right? You sound weird. Not to mention you didn’t leap on your phone at six like you normally do. I know you were up.”
“I wasn’t. Not today.”
“Ohhh. Late night? Early morning,” Jules teased. “Both?”
“A little from column A. None from column B. My husband isn’t even here.” The frustration—and fear—leaked out, despite the lid she tried to shove down on her jagged emotions.
Since what had happened at the Warning Sign concert last fall, she’d been far more on edge. If she couldn’t find Simon or anything didn’t line up just so, her nerves went into overdrive. Not surprising, considering what had went down. And all they’d lost.
Her sister and Tristan had lived that reality more than anyone else.
“Understandable that he’d need to blow off some steam after last night.” Jules whistled. “Shock of the century, huh? I can’t imagine if I hadn’t known about you all these years and then one day, you showed up plain as day on TV—”
“Wait. No. It can’t be about that. He wouldn’t just take off first thing in the morning over that.” Margo rubbed her hand over the unwrinkled, ice cold sheets. “Or in the middle of the damn night.”
After he’d fucked her into unconsciousness. Don’t want any witnesses for what was sure to be a bloody battle.
Possibly even literally.
“Who knows how you would react to something like that?”
“Wait a second.” Margo pinched the bridge of her nose, her mind whirling faster than she could keep up with. “How do you know about it?”
Surely the news hadn’t traveled across the pond yet.
Duh, of course, it had. One way or another. Google was twenty-four/seven. Nothing stayed low-key for long, especially not when it had been blasted on national television. Every music and entertainment source would’ve been all over that piece of info.
Had Simon seen the news on his phone before he went to sleep? Was that what had driven him out?
“Oblivion/Warning Sign network,” Jules informed her. “Nick told Elle, Elle told Mal, who told Michael, who told West, who told Lo, who told…well, everyone. Not to mention it’s all over the tabs and the gossip sites. I even got an alert in my inbox this morning from US Weekly.”
Margo rubbed her forehead. No wonder Simon hadn’t been able to just roll over and nod off. If she’d been thinking clearly, she would’ve known that. What he’d heard and seen had rocked his world.
And she’d been focused on the show, and their amazing chemistry on stage—and off—and how tired she was, and making sure she got enough rest. It wasn’t just about her anymore.
She should have known. Simon had been like a wild man last night, and it wasn’t merely a happy coincidence. While she’d understood the Ian news had fueled his behavior, she’d just rolled with it as if she truly believed Simon would just stand by and wait for news from Li.
That wasn’t her husband. Would never be.
God, she just hadn’t thought. Now who knew where he’d gone off to? And what he’d gotten himself into, in a foreign country with no security.
He knew better. Goddammit, after Randy and all the security breeches last fall, he had to know. That threat had been eliminated, but new ones were always popping up. He couldn’t take those kinds of risks.
She slid her hand over her flat belly. Not now, especially.
“Margo?”
“Yes, I’m here. Sorry. It’s just been a lot to deal with. It came out of nowhere…” She trailed off, fisting her hand in her nightshirt. The unexpected was the only thing they could count on lately.
“I get that. You don’t expect to find out news like that on TV, for God’s sake. I mean, who does that? Why not send a damn card or note? It’s cruel.”
“A note saying, ‘hey, guess what, you have a brother’?” The ridiculousness of the whole situation made her laugh, though none of it was funny. “Li’s looking into it. Who knows if it’s even true? You know crackpots make up stories all the time—”
“You don’t believe it?”
“You do?”
“Well, just look at him. Listen to him. They look and sound as much alike as we do. More so actually, because you’re so much taller. And I definitely win on the round score right now.” Jules let out a self-deprecating laugh.
Margo shut her eyes.
“Though I guess maybe you’re right,” Jules said after a moment. “Not everyone who looks alike is related. But their voices are sort of damnable, aren’t they?”
“Damnable is one way to put it.”
“Are you okay? You don’t sound good. Worried about Simon, but not just that. You always have so much energy.”
“We’ve been going pretty much nonstop. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
In truth, she’d been sleeping more than she ever had. She’d had little choice. It was either take naps or nearly blink out sitting up. That kind of behavior wouldn’t go unnoticed for long. Especially among her prolific baby-making band. It seemed as if the lot of them were perpetually having children or trying to.
Except her and Simon. They’d been the happily childless ones.
Damn Oblivion water.
“It’s so easy to get rundown on tour. But you’ve been killing it in your shows. Especially last night. Whoa, sis, I saw some of that footage. YT was on fire. Or actually, it was you and Simon who were on fire. Jeez, I can only imagine why you aren’t sleeping. Holy crap.”
Margo flushed and threw off the covers, sliding her legs over the side of the bed. She had a sudden urge that had nothing to do with finding her MIA husband. “Can you hold on a sec?”
“Sure.”
She hurried into the bathroom to take care of business, then quickly washed up and came back to grab the phone. “Okay. Sorry. What about you? How’s the pumpkin?”
“Tristan’s fine, though I’m going to be the pumpkin soon with how he’s feeding me.” Jules snorted. “Oh, wait, you meant the baby?”
“Smartass, yes. My niece or nephew. Though I really think you should find out the sex beforehand. How can you stand to wait? I couldn’t.”
She also couldn’t stand still, as proven by the way she was pacing barefoot in front of the windows. In between, she kept glancing at the door, willing Simon to materialize.
Where could he be? Was he all right? She had to believe she’d know if something had happened to him, but everything was so jumbled inside her right now. She had so many worries competing for space.
“Yeah, well, surprises are fun. Besides, we needed this time. This space to get ready.” Jules exhaled. “You know how much we want this baby.”
“Yes, I do.” Guilt flared inside her, because it hadn’t always been that way for her. She hadn’t planned on having children. Jules hadn’t either, at least to her knowledge, but falling in love could change everything.
It had changed it all for Jules. And then she’d lost so much, even as she gained a whole new life.
“But celebrating was—is—hard. Painting the nursery has been about all we’ve managed so far, and even that’s been in fits and starts. Sage green,” Jules put in. “A nice neutral color, just in case. Though we wouldn’t be abou
t the whole pink and blue parade anyway. Kinda doesn’t fit to be traditional when we’re anything but.”
Margo’s eyes filmed over. Randy, the man her sister and Tristan had lost, had been as sweetly traditional on the surface as they came, yet he’d been the third spoke of their trio. He’d been their center, their rock.
And he’d been ripped away, leaving them to figure out how to pick up the pieces.
Margo still woke up in a cold sweat some nights, with Jules’ heart-rending cries in her head. Those first days and weeks had been so hard on all of them. That Jules had been newly pregnant for the first time had been just one more ache. Still, that baby had kept her and Tristan moving forward. No matter who the biological father was, they would always carry that piece of Randy with them. And they never intended to find out, unless it became medically necessary.
That baby was truly all three of theirs, and he or she was so very loved.
Margo cleared her throat. “You built your family your way.”
“We had to, after what we grew up with. You too. It doesn’t matter if it looks like anyone else’s, does it? Not if it gives you what you need.” Jules hesitated. “Did I just hear a sniffle?”
Margo rubbed her nose and let out a watery laugh. “You know I don’t cry.”
“Right. Just like I don’t. Liars, we are.” Jules sighed. “If you need me, I’m here. I know that wasn’t always true, but I am now. I want to be your sister, for real. Not just because we share DNA, but in all the ways that count.”
“You are.” Margo closed her eyes and took a deep breath to shore herself up. She had to be ready to deal with Simon and the situation with Ian. The last thing she needed right now was to fall apart. “And same goes. Anytime you need me, just call.”
“You’ve said that a million times since November, and you know I have.” Jules let out a faint laugh, but Margo didn’t smile.
Since November. When everything had become so much more tenuous in their world. Fraught with danger and far more fleeting than they’d ever guessed.
Nothing was guaranteed. Not even a moment.
“I’m glad for it. We don’t have to be like our parents. We sure as hell don’t have to raise our kids like our parents either. We can do better.”