Stand (Black Addiction Book 3)

by T Gephart

  So the next morning instead of sitting around in my empty bed and feeling like a jerk-off, I got up and started to put the pieces into place. I’d wasted enough time and if the band’s success had taught me anything it was that if you wanted something, you went out and got it. Not sure why it had taken me so long to wake up. Possibly because I’d been a self-centered dick with his head up his ass, or maybe I’d been too focused on my career. But thankfully I’d woken the fuck up, and there was no mistaking what I wanted. Her. And not in the way she’d suggested.

  First thing I had to put up with was the bullshit charade where I didn’t seem interested in more than just friends. Well, okay then, can do. Of course it was going to be close to impossible to hide the fucking hard-on she gave me with little more than a smile, but we’d just have to work with what we had. And short of cutting my dick off, that shit wasn’t going to stop.

  And being that I was such a good friend, I knocked on her door bright-eyed and bushy fucking tailed at eleven the next morning. Two obscenely large coffees I’d snagged a few minutes before, in my hands as I rapped on the wood.

  “Hey.” Beth pulled open the door, the messed up hair and eye rub hinting she hadn’t been awake. “You brought coffee?” Her eyes moved from my face to the two cups of piping hot java I was balancing in my hands. The fucking smile it earned me better than I’d hoped.

  Better yet, she opened the door and invited me inside, the view infinitely better of her in all her mussed up glory.

  “Sure did.” I tried to not notice the fact she was wearing sleep shorts and a tank top with no bra. That hard-on that threatened to be my undoing, looking for a way out of my jeans. “Figured you might need it. There’s one here for Jules too.”

  “That’s so sweet of you.” She took one of the cups from my hand and gave me the best hug she could considering neither of us wanted to end up with third degree burns. “She’s still sleeping.”

  Yeah, sorry Jules but didn’t really care you weren’t awake. “No sweat, I’ll just leave it here then.” The other cup I’d been holding was lowered on to their kitchen table. “She can have it later.” I stepped back and watched as Beth’s cup moved up to her lips, the way her eyes closed as she savored the mouthful.

  Annnnnnnnnnd on that note. “Need to get going. Catching up with Joey and Kenzie. Chat soon, okay?” I gave her a two finger wave and headed back toward the door.

  “Oh, well thanks.” She followed, her grip on her coffee maintained as she walked me to the door. “This is heaven.”

  “No probs.” Seriously, the least I could do. “See ya.”

  I didn’t look back.

  Just turned my ass around and headed back to the elevator, unsure if she’d still been looking from the door.

  The catch up with Joey and Kenzie was a real thing. He’d been too drunk to drive his sorry ass home and even though I’d offered, he instead caught a ride with Eric, his drum tech. The offer I’d extended had been partly for my own benefit, wanting to see his sorry ass stumble up the front of his stairs and try not to wake his six-month old while Kenzie shot him the evil eye. It was great because Joey wasn’t quiet so the chances of his wife tearing him a new one were high if his kid so much as cracked an eyelid open.

  Sadly while I was initially denied the pleasure, I was hoping some of it was still playing out this morning when I went to get Joey so we could pick up his truck.

  “Hey Max,” Kenzie threw her arms around me as she answered the door. “Come in, he’s still in the shower.” She stepped aside so I could walk past.

  Just after Kenzie and Joe had tied the knot—before Layla had made her entrance—the two of them got serious. They did the grown up thing by buying property and dropped mega bucks on a sweet, newly renovated townhouse in Chelsea. The place was ridiculous, fully pimped out with a pool and everything and thankfully not turning either of them into douchebags. Not that I had been seriously concerned.

  “There’s my girl.” I scooped up my goddaughter who had been too enthralled with some singing and dancing dinosaur on the television to notice I’d walked in.

  Her cheeks puffed as her lips pulled into a grin, a squeal of delight being my reward as I twirled her around. Her giggles louder than what would seem reasonable given such a small package.

  “She loves her uncle Max that’s for sure.” Kenzie watched amused as I planted kisses all over Layla’s face.

  “Yeah, well the feeling is mutual.” Layla stopped squealing as I laid her against my chest. “And if anyone ever hurts her they better have their headstone picked out.”

  That wasn’t idle talk either. The kid in my arms couldn’t mean more than if she’d been my own and I’d throw down for her in a heartbeat.

  “Ha, like there’d be anything left of them once I got done.” Joey’s hair was still wet as he strode into the living room, his face not looking morning fresh despite it being closer to the afternoon.

  “You guys are both terrible.” Kenzie held out her hands, her daughter mimicking the action. “God help any of her boyfriends.” She laughed moving her daughter into her arms.

  “No need to worry about that.” Joey dismissed his wife, kissing his little girl’s forehead. “She’s never dating. Ever.”

  “Agreed.” I nodded, willing to back up my best friend if any kid had the balls to ask her out.

  “You’re both delusional.” Kenzie rolled her eyes, her smile mirrored by the sweet girl in her arms. “Now go get your truck, dumbass. Layla and I need a nap because I have a gig tonight.” She shot me a wink before she left the room.

  “So, how you feeling, Joe?” I popped the bastard right in the arm knowing full well his answer wasn’t going to be “peachy, thanks.”

  “Why did you let me drink so much?” His fingers squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I feel like an air bag exploded in my head.”

  “And ruin your great night?” I scoffed, the asshole big enough to make his own bad decisions. Especially ones that amused the hell out of me. “Not how I roll, brother.”

  “Yeah, well fuck you.” Joey flipped me off. “Let’s go get my fucking truck.”

  ***

  Problem with karma was it went both ways. Joey had a motherfucking field day grilling me about what the score was with Beth. And despite being lit up, apparently noticed we didn’t leave together nor seem to be together.

  Which of course meant I had to come clean that while we weren’t together I was planning on changing that. The heated stare he threw me from the passenger seat enough to tell me he didn’t approve. Which was completely fine considering I didn’t need his approval, my mind stuck on the one track.

  “You better know what you’re doing, Max.” The evil looks hadn’t been enough so he’d started verbal warnings as well. “This has epic fall out written all over it.”

  “Oh, because you would have just walked away from Kenzie if she’d said she wasn’t interested. Yeah, I seem to remember how okay you were with it when she’d tried the let’s-just-be-friends BS.” He winced as I reminded him about his ass being sidelined over a massive misunderstanding. His girl had been willing to walk away except he hadn’t been so keen.

  “That was different.” He swallowed, not having more of an argument.

  “For you. Not for me.”

  And that was the end of that. He’d said his piece and I’d said mine, and we were happy to disagree. I’d delivered him to his truck and waved him on his way.

  My morning charity efforts had left me hungry, so rather than heading back to my pad, I parked my ride in search of lunch.

  The Raw Deal was bustling with activity. Every hipster, hippie or douchebag was itching to try their uncooked rabbit food which looked exactly as unappetizing as it sounded. But, right next door was a burger joint that made the best cheeseburger and chili fries I’d argue in Manhattan. And it gave me a warped sense of pleasure to walk past the vegan haunt and chow down on cooked meat. Yeah, I know that makes me an asshole but I didn’t much care.

  �
�Hey, I know you.” I felt a tug at my arm.

  Not for nothing but I got that a lot. Some days more than others, and usually after a photo or an autograph I was back on my way. No one mobbed us in New York, the residents spoiled for choice with the amount of celebrities living in its city limits. So I was all set to say hello and get on with the task at hand i.e. feeding my face, when I turned to see who it was getting my attention.

  Funnily enough, I knew him too.

  “Hey, dude. Don’t think you do.” The smug smile was unable to be suppressed. “Are you a fan?” I pulled off my shades so I could get a better look at him.

  I was almost certain the dude wasn’t a fan, and I knew exactly where he knew me from, but I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.

  “I saw you the other night at Christina’s.” The asshole rounded out his shoulders, posturing like the fact he was almost seven-feet tall wasn’t enough. And funnily enough, it didn’t do shit because I couldn’t give a rat’s ass how big he was.

  “Yeah, good food there. I go there a lot.” The mention of Beth purposely avoided. If he wanted to ask me about her, he was going to have to man up and ask. I wasn’t giving him a freebie.

  “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never eaten there. My sister is the host.” And so continued our dance. I swear, conversation with Layla was more enthralling and the kid couldn’t talk.

  “Nice, well. It was great seeing you.” I gave him a patronizing tap on the arm as I moved to the side. “Enjoy your tossed salad.”

  “I saw you there with Beth.” The words barely coming out of the neanderthal’s clenched grill. “She dating you now?”

  It could have gone on longer, me curiously asking how he knew Beth or why he gave a fuck but I knew the answer and was already bored. Add to that hungry and couldn’t understand what she’d ever seen in this guy, and you were somewhere in the neighborhood of my level of displeasure.

  “Listen buddy, you seem like a nice guy but who Beth decides to date isn’t really your concern is it?” And I was lying about him seeming like a nice guy, he seemed like a douchebag.

  “It is when I assumed we were dating.” The dumbass proved how much he didn’t know as he continued. “That’s fine, I’m not the possessive type. Just don’t expect your little fling to last.” It was his turn to be smug, except he sucked at it and didn’t even come close to pulling it off.

  No seriously.

  Could this dickhead be more clueless?

  Which is why I couldn’t help but laugh. His big face contorted in confusion as I chuckled my ass off on the sidewalk. The bulge at the side of his neck only made it worse, my amusement kicked up a notch with his added fury.

  “I’ll be sure to let her know when I’m holding her tonight. And every night after.”

  So a few things.

  It was a complete dick thing to say, but this asshole was trying my patience. And sure I could have gone another way without rubbing his nose in it but I think short of a note strapped to a brick aimed at the douchebag’s head, he wasn’t getting the hint. Which brought me to my last point, saying I was going to be holding Beth didn’t make it true. Nor was it the gentlemanly thing to do, which I’m sure if she found out about it, she would be mega pissed. She’d be completely entitled to kick my ass or chew me out. All of which I would take willingly because I’d have deserved it. And yet I couldn’t make myself take any of it back.

  “See ya.” I pushed past the asshole, his bulging neck and his bad attitude and proceeded to eat my burger, even though I’d lost part of my appetite.

  It did highlight a pretty valid point.

  If she assumed we were friends there was a chance she was probably going to date. Hopefully she’d recovered from the brain injury she’d suffered when she’d agreed to date that asshole and would raise her standards, but I’m sure there were more assholes to fill his spot.

  Fucking great.

  This was going to be soooooooooo much fun.

  Dick.

  Yep, I just called myself a dick.

  Here we fucking go.

  The coffee Max had hand delivered the morning after our moment hadn’t been an isolated incident. And it wasn’t just restricted to coffee. With Max proving what an amazing guy he was, even though he wasn’t going to get lucky.

  Monday morning had come and gone without incident with Jules and I reviewing our eventful weekend. Class was usual, with nothing remarkable happening through the day.

  A runny nose here, a grazed knee there but all in all stock standard for a Monday. Except for late afternoon when instead of Jules meeting me at my classroom door to head home, Patricia, our assistant principal, appeared instead.

  “Hi, Beth, just reminding you about the bowl-a-thon next Friday evening.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  Every time I saw her, I had a hard time concentrating on what she was saying. Her well-coiffured hair was filled with so much Aqua Net, it hadn’t moved since 1985. Which I could only guess tried to act as a distraction to the five pounds of foundation she was wearing, the thick matte finish getting caught in the deep crevasses of her face.

  “The fundraiser for the art department,” she announced slowly like I should know exactly what she was talking about. “We know it’s not as much fun as a bake sale, but we really need for as many of our teachers to get behind it.”

  “Oh, yeah that.” The mention sounded vaguely familiar, probably brought up at a staff meeting where I should have paid more attention.

  “Yes, and lots of parents will be there too, it’s a great opportunity to show your support for the school and their children. I’ve signed you up for the red team.”

  Which essentially was a courteous way of telling me my attendance was required unless I didn’t value my job. Or I didn’t support my kids, which would have been equally as bad. I guess my plans for next Friday night were set.

  “Red team, are we having a pie eating contest?” Jules’ face beamed at the doorway, her timing perfect.

  “No, of course not.” Patricia laughed obviously not aware at how serious Jules was. “It’s a bowl-a-thon. I’ve signed you up too, Julie. You and Beth are partners.”

  It was only fair if I was roped into throwing a nine-pound ball and wearing someone else’s shoes that she should get to share in that pleasure with me.

  “Aww thanks, Patricia. I couldn’t think of anyone better to be my partner.” My grin widened as I glanced at Jules. No matter how much I was going to hate it, she was going to hate it more.

  “Of course, it was the least I could do.” She clapped her hands enthusiastically. “It’s going to be so much fun, and the kids are so excited. We’re even having pizza and soda.”

  “Wow, that does sound exciting.” At least there was food there, beer would have been great too, but everyone was so PC these days. Alcohol at school functions was frowned upon, sadly.

  “It sure is, and I have even managed to get a hamper donated from Bath and Body Works. Some lucky person is going to get a wonderful prize.”

  “Great. Can’t wait.” I nodded, thankful I had a couple of weeks to build some genuine excitement.

  “Yeah, me too. How cool we get to do this together,” Jules added, no one fooled by the fake smile she’d tried to muster up.

  “Well, I’m just pleased you’re both coming.” Patricia straightened her strand of pearls, satisfied. “See you there.”

  We both watched as she left, the echo of her heels against the floor finally fading after she disappeared from view.

  “This is our punishment for you being late, I hope you are happy.” I laughed as I closed my classroom door, ready to get home and relax.

  “Me? Please. She would have cornered you tomorrow or the day after, she had plenty of time to guilt us into going.” Jules shoved off the blame as she kept up beside me.

  “You’re probably right. Ugh, you have no idea how much I hate bowling.” My dislike was only superseded by camping, which I broke out in hives just at the thought.


  “Don’t even go there.” Jules held her hand up, no doubt a story responsible for her strong reaction. Last time I bowled I slipped in the lane and landed on my ass. It didn’t help that I was wearing a skirt at the time and flashed my panties. Worse still was my date didn’t want to leave because he’d just bought a jug of beer.”

  “Who bowls in a skirt?” My head fell back as I laughed. “You were asking for trouble.”

  “Yeah, where were you then? Your advice means nothing now.” She mused sarcastically, our bowling night bound to be interesting.

  It was when we eventually got home—having missed our original train—that my next surprise visit happened.

  Having just changed out of my work clothes, a glass of wine in my hand when Ben the doorman knocked at our door, his shift having just ended.

  “Hi Beth, Julie.” He nodded politely at both of us. “I was told to give you this when you got home but was busy when you both came through the lobby. Here you go.” He handed over a crisp white envelope that had my name handwritten on the front.

  “What is it?” I turned over the envelope hoping that might gain me a clue, the back not presenting any further details.

  “Ah, it’s from Max Reynolds.” He straightened on his heels as he eyed the envelope. “He mentioned you were old friends?”

  “Yes, we are.” I nodded, my heart racing a little faster than it should over stationery.

  “He said sorry he wasn’t able to deliver it himself but he was getting in late this evening. Have a good night, ladies.” Ben delivered a curt bow before turning back down the hall.

  “Ooooooo what is it?” Jules hovered over my shoulder as I peeled it open.

  “I’m trying to find out.” I pulled out a piece of thick card, Max’s unmistakable handwriting all over it. My eyes scanned over the letters, my ability to read obviously missing.

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, what does the note say?” Jules tugged at my arm, her patience lasting less than a minute.

  “He bought us dinner.” I stared at the note confused, the information it contained making my head spin.