“Ice, please.”
“Sure thing. I’m so sorry, Lia. I don’t think it’s that deep, but Charlie’ll look at it when he gets here. You know how head wounds bleed.”
“I don’t know where Abbi is,” I said, the panic clawing its way through the haze of pain. “She said she was going out with Luke, but I can’t get her on her phone. She promised me she’d always answer it.”
Luke wouldn’t hurt Abbi. He was a nice kid. At least I thought he was. Ralph hadn’t heard about another accident or anything bad. He would’ve told me right away. He came back with the ice, talking to someone on his walkie-talkie contraption.
“Come on in and get her, Charlie. She’s got a cut on her forehead. Bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“Stop fussing,” I grumbled. “I need to go look for Abbi.”
I stood and winced, gripping the edge of my couch for balance. Charlie cupped my elbow.
“She’ll be here in a tick,” Ralph said. “Jimmy saw her at the coffee shop on Main. Sitting at a table by the window, pretty as you please.”
Charlie tugged me to the back of his ambulance. He shoved me onto the gurney and poked at my cut. “Thank— Ouch!” I snapped, dropping the ice into my lap. I yelped at the splash of cold as the bag spilt open.
“You don’t want a scar on that pretty forehead, Lia. Stay still so I can finish.”
I huffed but remained still. Tires rolled over gravel. A car door slammed, feet pounded up the drive.
“What happened? Where’s my mom? Why’s she in the ambulance? Is she dead?”
The fear in Abbi’s voice was a salve to my heart. Good. She needed to answer her damn phone.
“Omigod! You’re covered in blood!”
“Head wounds bleed a lot.”
Abbi climbed in and snatched up the dripping ice pack and slammed it against my cheek hard enough to make me cringe. Charlie cursed and glared.
“Keep still,” he snapped.
When Charlie dabbed some iodine on the area, I hissed through the sting. He finished bandaging my face.
“Done. Help your mom inside, Abbi. She needs to rest. Watch her for a concussion.”
“How do I do that? Who hit you? What happened? Is the house safe?” Abbi’s eyes roved our dark house with trepidation as her hands shook.
“Ralph hit me with the door. There’s a raccoon in the garage,” I said.
Charlie clambered down and turned to help me. “I’ll call animal patrol about the raccoon. Stay out of the garage until they pick it up.”
“Not to worry. I have no desire to see that thing again. It tried to bite me.”
Abbi shook her head, brows knit in a tight frown. “You look like someone beat you up.”
Her lip trembled. I slid off the cot and down to the driveway with Charlie’s help, unsteady from the throbbing in my head. Abbi jumped out after me, steadying me as I teetered out from Charlie’s arms.
“I screamed when I saw the raccoon. I was on the phone with Rhonda, hoping she knew more about where you were. She called in the cavalry. No one’s in the house.” Except that furry avatar of Satan.
“Okay,” Abbi said. “Okay. Good.” She helped me to the couch. I settled back against the cushions. She brought a blanket and tucked it around me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the ministrations made my head pound worse.
“How about a painkiller?” I asked.
Tears filled her eyes. She looked at my swollen, bloodied face. “I’m sorry.”
She ran to the kitchen and brought back a couple pills and a glass of water.
Opening my mouth made my bruised cheek hurt more. I wasn’t looking forward to looking in the mirror. It wouldn’t be pretty.
“Raccoon’s gone. Lit out soon as I opened the garage. I found this under your car,” Ralph said, handing me my shattered phone. “It was making a god-awful racket.”
“Thanks, Ralph.”
“We’ll check in with you tomorrow. I’m real sorry, Lia.” He shook his head and left, shutting the door with quiet precision.
I pressed the button and waited for the screen to come to life. Squinting, I was able to make out that I’d missed three calls from Ella.
“Call your aunt Ella for me, Abbi. She must need something, and my head hurts too much to call myself.”
Abbi turned her phone on and dialed the number. Ella’s excited voice blared through the phone.
“Your mother is a doll, Abbi. I need to come out there and thank her in person.”
“What’s going on?” Abbi asked. She sniffled, tears still clinging to her lashes.
“The Supernaturals want to record one of Simon’s songs, that’s what’s going on! Asher invited Simon to the studio in Seattle next month. I guess the Supernaturals are recording another album then.”
I tried to smile at Asher’s thoughtfulness. My cheek didn’t appreciate the movement, and I groaned.
“Just a minute, Aunt Ella.” Abbi turned to face me. “You need something?”
“More ice,” I sighed.
Abbi took her phone with her while she dug through a kitchen drawer. “Mom got beat up by the sheriff tonight,” she said.
I lifted my hand, trying to tell her to stop, but it was too late. I couldn’t hear Ella’s response, but Abbi said, “No, it wasn’t like that. C’mon, this is Mom you’re asking about. Sheriff Lindon came to save her from a raccoon and slammed her face with the front door. I thought she’d broken her cheek, but Charlie—he’s the EMT—said it’s just a bad bruise. She has a cut over her eye. It’s all nasty and she’s covered in blood.”
Abbi brought the ice back and offered it to me. I pressed it to my cheek, wincing a little at the pressure.
“Need anything else?” Abbi asked.
“I’m good.”
“Yeah, right.” Abbi held out her phone. “She wants to talk to you.”
I stared at the phone like it would zap me to oblivion. “Can’t hold it to my face.”
Maybe my family would leave me alone if I was pitiful enough. Abbi must have put it in on speaker because Ella’s voice, a little tinny, shouted out, “You’re talking to me, love. Don’t try to weasel out of it. What the hell did you do to yourself? Abbi said you got in a fight with the sheriff.”
“She did not. She told you the sheriff hit me with my own front door.”
“Somehow that means you now look like a domestic abuse victim?”
“Just about. It hurts to talk. Can I call you when the swelling goes down? Oh, and my phone is busted. I threw it at the raccoon. Those suckers are fast and huge. I had no idea. I have to get a new phone. Don’t call me on mine until I call you.”
“Dahlia, I’m worried about you.” Ella’s voice grew quieter. “Are you sure you’re all right, darling? Did the nasty thing bite you? Go to the hospital to make sure you don’t have rabies.”
“I’m fine.”
“Quit pretending. Was it a panic attack? I’ve read you can pass out from them.”
I groaned. So much for having privacy. “Never passed out before, and this wasn’t a panic attack. They’ve been better since Asher talked me through one after Simon’s concert, but—”
“Oh, no, you don’t! Asher Smith talked you through a panic attack? That man is the most delectable creature,” Ella moaned.
“He is. You love Simon.”
“That I do. I meant Asher was delectable for you, love. I told Abbi to send me a picture of your face. I want to see how bad the damage is. Have you called Briar? Have Abbi send it to her, too. She’ll want to know.”
No point in arguing. Ella and Abbi had already teamed up against me. “Fine. I’m so happy about Simon’s break. I’ll thank Asher.”
“Do that, darling. He’s a right lovely bloke. Simon’s having a beer with him right now. They’re talking about your sound track. I guess the Supernaturals are recording that and their new album at the same time. Don’t really understand it all.”
“Maybe you’ll get to thank Asher yourself.”
&nbs
p; “I’d prefer you do it. Many times,” she said with a snicker. “Get some rest. Call me tomorrow. I’ll worry.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
I pressed the End button and leaned my head back against the couch, which caused me to squeak in pain, the ice pack falling into my lap.
Something clicked. It sounded like a camera shutter. “Did you take a picture of me?”
“Yep.”
“What if I didn’t want you to do that?”
“I’m worried about your cheek. It might be fractured. And the cut’s oozing, even with the Band-Aid. Charlie’s just an EMT. You should probably go to the doctor. Aunt Briar’s boyfriend will know if you need more care.”
“Ken’s an oncologist, not an ER doctor. I don’t want to owe him anything.” I would’ve scowled but my face hurt too much.
My phone made a sound. Not its normal text chirp, this sounded more like a dying sparrow. I couldn’t make out the words through the busted screen.
Abbi’s phone rang again. “Hi, Aunt Briar. No, Mom’s okay. At least she says she is. She got hit with a door. I think she needs to go to the ER and get stitches. Hmm, maybe. You think? That’d be great! She’s sitting right here. You want to tell her? Fine. No. Text me. Mom’s phone broke. Long story. She’ll tell you tomorrow. Love you, too.”
Abbi settled next to me on the couch. “Aunt Briar said she’s flying out in the morning and will get you into one of the plastic surgeons in Spokane or maybe even Coeur d’Alene. Ken’s working on it right now.”
“This is the problem with a tight-knit family. I can’t get slammed in the face without everyone freaking out about it.”
“It’s bad, Mom. I’m really sorry you were worried about me.”
“Guilty enough to never, ever, shut your phone off again?”
“Yeah.”
“We can discuss whether you deserve to be grounded tomorrow. When do I have to pick up Briar?”
“She’s going to text me.”
Abbi’s phone rang again. “Hello?”
Her mouth formed an O as her eyes lit up. “She’s right here.” Abbi thrust the phone at me.
“I’ll call whoever it is back tomorrow.”
“It’s Asher Smith.”
14
Asher
My lawyer’s office was downtown near Pike Market. I hated being in this part of town with all its bustle, but I needed to go over my options. Pete told me what I already knew: to get what I wanted, my fastest option was to roll over and give in to Jessica’s demands for huge alimony checks. Full custody of Mason was worth it.
Since the meeting that morning, I’d almost called Pete four different times to give him the green light, but I’d decided to run the idea by Bill. He was my closest friend. He’d learned lead guitar so we could start the Supernaturals after our short stint in Cactus Arrow. Bill and I found the other band members together.
He picked up on the second ring. “’Lo.”
“Here’s the deal. You know Jessica and I split.”
“’Bout time.”
“Don’t start. I can’t do the sound track outright. I already told her I’d nixed the deal.”
“I don’t understand. Sounds like a great gig. Both for you and for us as a band. Three songs, right? That’d be nice bank.”
“It would be. I really want to do it.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Jessica’s pushing for a cut of the royalties on all my future work. She says that’s the only way she’ll give me custody of Mason.”
“You can’t let her have anything to do with the band, Asher.” Bill’s voice was serious. “She’s tried to break us up for years.”
Dread filled my stomach, but I managed to ask, “More than what you told me?”
“I’ll be there in a week for our rehearsal. The new stuff you sent is excellent. Looking forward to getting into the studio. Should we run our next album next to this sound track? Make better use of studio time.”
“More, Bill?”
“Dammit. This is hard.” Bill paused, his breathing harsh. “She came to my room late one night after a show. She was really high. She cried and cried, man. Kept talking about if things were different. If Olivia lived, you’d want her again. Then, when I comforted her, she . . .”
I leaned my head against the bedroom wall. “What?”
“Kept trying to get me to . . . well, to fuck her. I ended up sleeping in Carl’s room. I knew you were still working through shit from that night. You know, when Olivia died. I didn’t want to tell you. But it was bad. She was a mess.”
I moaned a curse. “I don’t want to drag you into this, but I may need you to tell my lawyers, sign something.”
“Asher,” Bill said. “I got my shit together just like you did. If it comes out Jessica tried to bang me . . . Cammie and I are in a good place. She’s happy. That shit—it’s ancient history. I don’t want to drag Cammie through that.”
“If I can’t get something to stick on her, I don’t get custody of Mason,” I said. “She’s out of control. Apparently as far back as you’re talking about. Mason’s getting hurt in all this. Hell, she left him alone the night I got home.”
“He’s a good kid, Asher. He wouldn’t do anything stupid.”
“He doesn’t deserve to be hurt in this, Bill.”
“But what about my marriage?”
I pressed my thumb to the spot between my brows. “Jessica doesn’t just want Mason. She wants to punish me for Olivia’s death. I get that. It was my fault. I doubt a judge would give her all these ridiculous demands, but she’s hanging Mason over my head because she knows how much I love him.”
“That’s not something I can help you with. I mean, she’s always been crazy. Controlling. She’s not gonna let this go. Not if she can gain from it.”
Bill was right. I’d married her, brought her into my life. But Jessica hadn’t healed from Olivia’s death. She wanted to hurt me. Over and over. And that was hurting Mason.
“I know you’re pissed,” Bill continued. “Hell, I would be if the situation was reversed, but I swear, Asher, I swear to God, I didn’t do anything with her. I mean, besides some kissing . . .”
“I may need you to testify,” I muttered. I ended the call and sat on the edge of my bed. I tried taking deep breaths.
I’d worked so hard to keep the details of Olivia’s death out of the media, and so had my record label. We hadn’t really succeeded, but we got Jessica through the worst of the fallout before I had to leave again. I’d been happier out of the house, away from my own wife.
Maybe if I’d listened to my mother then . . . but I hadn’t been willing to divorce my wife when she was suffering. I hadn’t wanted to turn any further into my father. And leaving a woman who was suffering from depression was a dick move for any guy to make.
I had two choices right now. I could destroy my apartment to try to work off the rage, or I could call Simon back and talk to him more about the project I’d mentioned to him earlier.
I needed to try to find a way to move on. To keep the sound track inching forward even though I couldn’t sign on. Yet. Paul said the deal wasn’t complete until Dahlia sent another round of outlines and more story samples. Those were due Friday. I had a few days. Time, hopefully, to sort some of this mess out.
Simon met me at a little place near The Showbox, my favorite live music venue in town. His smile was uneasy, but he seemed cool with hanging out for a while.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you,” Simon admitted. He chewed on a handful of bar nuts, his gaze never leaving my face.
“Thanks for meeting me. Like I said, I wanted to talk to you about recording your song, ‘Hiding in the Night.’ I like the licks, and I think Bill can do something amazing with the bridge. We start rehearsals next week. Plan to lay down tracks in two, maybe three weeks. I want to do your tune toward the beginning.”
I was moving forward, building something I could be proud of. It was Jessica I was divorcing, not the
rest of my friends or my career. Bill and I would work through this. I rolled my head, stretching my neck, but tension still locked down my shoulders.
“I’d love that, man.”
Simon texted his wife the news while I ordered us a couple beers.
“So this isn’t for the HBO sound track? Lia told me about your offer.”
“Maybe, we’ll see if I can make it work. The sound track, I mean.” I swallowed my grimace. Not Simon’s problem. “I’m not sure I can swing it. Life’s complicated.”
“I heard about your divorce. That’s tough.”
“You have no idea.” I cleared my throat. “Like I told you, Paul Loomis asked for a song. But it’s not signed and sealed yet. So we’re moving forward with a new Supernaturals album while we wait.”
I slammed back my drink, waving my hand for another. The rage was still there, burning in my gut.
Simon nodded. “You okay?” he asked, his voice hesitant.
“Not really, but I want to talk music, not about my personal life.”
Simon’s phone rang, and he tossed an apologetic look while he pulled it out. “That’s Ella’s ring. My wife. She wouldn’t call unless it was important.”
I dropped my gaze to my empty pint glass. Foam slid down the side, fingers spreading through the brown dregs. I wanted to pick up the glass and hurl it across the room.
If I couldn’t find a way to remove Jessica from my life, I’d continue to go through these cycles each time she wanted more money, more fame. Wreak more havoc. With Jessica, there was never a top-out. She was so angry with me about Olivia, she’d make sure of it.
I liked Simon, but I shouldn’t have come here, brought him into my mess. I needed to hit someone or take enough downers to pass out. Neither was a healthy option. Much as I knew it, I didn’t care. That scared me.
“Hey, El. Hell. But she’s okay? Did she go to the hospital? No, that doesn’t surprise me either. They found Abbi?”
Dahlia’s daughter was Abbi. I looked up. Simon’s brows were pulled down in a deep frown, his eyes cloudy with concern. Fear overrode my anger, condensing in a cold, nasty knot deep in my gut.
Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five Page 12