Bad Rules (A Wild Minds Novel)

by Charlotte West

  I waited a moment. For my words to sink in, for Asher to see my heart, how it beat for him. Seconds ticked by. We neared a minute. I’d give him some more time. All that alcohol had probably soaked his brain.

  Thick arms suddenly wrapped around, pulling me in and onto Asher’s lap. His hot face pressed into my neck. Damn, he was strong. I reciprocated, clinging to him just as tightly. Tremors wracked his body, and I held on. We were in turbulent waters, but together we’d survive the waves. I laid a kiss on his hot skin, putting all my love into that simple gesture. He wasn’t alone. He’d never be alone. Neither would I.

  “Hey.” I drew back, my hands smoothing over his shoulders, then back up to thread through his hair.

  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he ground out.

  “Same.” He buried his head in my chest—not at all as sexy as it sounds since the man was so damn sweaty. His grip loosened. I stroked his back. “Now how about those rock-star jokes.”

  He snorted.

  “I fainted in the curry house when I heard REM had split up. That’s me in the korma.” Ash stayed still. “Didn’t like that one?” I asked. “I’ve got more. How many folk musicians does it take to change a light bulb?” Pause for effect. “Seven, one to change it and the other six to sing about how good the old one was.”

  “Please stop,” Ash said.

  “I’m just getting started.” Lix had equipped me with at least ten more jokes.

  For a while, we just sat there, in the quiet and darkening room. Another day was passing. But this time Asher hadn’t had a single sip of alcohol. Progress. One step at a time. I bowed my head and hunched over him, sheltering his body with mine. His breathing slowed and steadied. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep. I’d be glad for that, for him to find some peace. I’d kept up a brave front, but the truth was, I’d come close to giving in to him. I feigned indifference all while waging an internal war. When you care so much for someone, you’ll do anything to see them out of pain, even give them the thing that’s killing them.

  “Lil.” He pulled back from me. “Call Kelly. Tell him I’m ready.”

  The air hissed out between my teeth. His eyes were clear. The anger was gone. His expression was calm. “Okay.”

  Now

  Dear Asher,

  I hope you’ve apologized to the clinic staff for cussing them out when they tried to take your phone. As a man, it will be your instinct to deny you’re at fault. Fight this. Masculinity is a cold, hard cage. Try to remember you catch more flies with honey. I’m also hoping you might consider partaking in some of the yoga and meditative alternative therapies the center offers. Warren said he suggested this at his last visit. He reported that you hadn’t lost your affinity for cussing. Sigh. You owe him an apology as well. I’ll keep a tally for you. I’m helpful like that.

  I’m thinking this whole letter writing is a good thing, though. We’ll get a chance to connect on a deeper and more intimate level. We’ll be like Napoleon and Josephine. Except I’m not married and you’re not a small man with a big army (not a double entendre).

  I have to keep this short. Addy needs help with Billie (pics enclosed). They’ve got her home now. Home being our hotel room. Amazing we’re still in Norway and you’re only an hour away, but you seem so far. Anyway, Billie is giving her new parents a run for their money. She’s got her days and nights confused. Up at all hours. Definitely already living that rock-star lifestyle. I told Addy I’d take the baby for a while, so she could sleep. A rested mama is a better mama.

  I’ll close with a quote from Napoleon to his Josephine. “I hope before long to crush you in my arms and cover you with a million kisses burning as though beneath the equator.”

  All my love and some more,

  Lily

  Sweetheart,

  This family-only rule is such bullshit. We should get engaged. Then you’d be able to visit. I still don’t understand most of the shit you say, but damn if I don’t like to read about it. I can hear your voice in your words. Music to my ears, baby.

  I don’t have much to say. And it’s hard to write because I’ve still got the shakes. Guess that shit doesn’t go away for another few days or so. Keep the letters coming. I read them every night before lights out.

  Love you,

  Asher

  Dear Asher,

  It’s been reported to me that you bought the clinic staff a new sound system, along with a bunch of albums, because their taste in music “sucks more dick than a crackhead without teeth.” Later, we’ll discuss women in the sex industry. Might this expenditure be your way of apologizing? Please don’t tell me yes or no. I’m content to pretend it is.

  I know you said no more musician jokes. But I have a really good one. Get ready to laugh your ass off.

  Why did Adele cross the road?

  To say hello from the other side.

  Funny, right? Now that I’ve improved your mood, I’ve got some good news and bad news. The good news is that baby Billie and Addy are doing great. So great they’ve been cleared to travel. This means they’ll be heading home soon. The bad news is I’m going to go with them. The tour has been put on hold, and there’s only so much sightseeing a girl can do in Norway. And since I can’t visit you, I’m better off helping out. It’s important for me to feel useful. I’ll write to you every day. And when you’re all done with this rehab stint, I’ll be the first to kiss your grumpy face.

  How are you feeling? The shakes gone now? If I could, I’d take your burdens and bury them deep.

  Love you and some more,

  Lily

  Lily,

  Shakes are gone. I’m feeling ’bout the same. I’m disappointed you’ll be leaving but understand your need to be with Addy. Fucking therapist helped me come up with that line. Every day I’m tempted to drink. I’ve started running. Been thinking about getting healthier and shit. Still not going to do yoga or meditate, though.

  You didn’t say anything about getting engaged. I wish I were writing to my fiancé instead of my girlfriend. What do you say? You want to be my permanent bitch?

  Love you,

  Asher

  P.S.

  What’s the difference between a fiddle and a violin?

  Who cares? Neither one is a guitar.

  Dear Ash,

  We’re home! Addy and Warren are settling in beautifully. They are such a charming little family. We all had dinner at Billy and Daisy’s last night. I still maintain their son is the spawn of Satan. The little devil picked his nose all through the meal, then wiped his boogers on my plate.

  Re: running, this is great! I’d like to revisit the yoga and meditation ideas at a later date. Permanent bitch? I don’t think so. Though I’ve recently had an epiphany and decided to lean into my bitchiness. Just to be clear, that’s a no to your phrasing, not a no to your question (apologies for the double negative). I’ve also had another epiphany about marriage. I’ll explain later, but it involved a biker and revisiting an old marriage proposal—my first, actually. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. All you really need to know is that you make me feel limitless. Ask me the question again when you’re out of rehab.

  Yours,

  Lily

  Sweetheart,

  Fuck. How many men have asked you to marry them? Never mind, don’t answer that.

  I’ve realized you only get one shot at a life. And I want that life with you. You think real hard about my question because I’m going to ask it when I get home. Counselors don’t recommend making any serious commitments right out of rehab. But you and me, we aren’t the practical sort, right?

  From the first time we met, you were familiar to me. I wasn’t sure if I was getting to know you or remembering you from a past life. I’ve loved you before and I’ll love you again in the next life (if you believe that cosmic bullshit).

  Love,

  Asher

  Dear Asher,

  I’m going to answer you because I believe honesty is the foundation of any good r
elationship. Ten serious proposals. Seven half-hearted. But you’re the only one I’ve ever considered saying yes to. Make you feel better?

  And for the record, I do believe in that cosmic bullshit.

  Love you,

  Lily

  Sweetheart,

  Feel better, no. Let’s never talk about you and marriage and other men again. I’m coming home. Get ready to say yes.

  Love,

  Ash

  Ash,

  I’ll be waiting, and I’ll be practicing saying yes. Good news is that I no longer break out in hives at the thought of it. That was a joke. But what’s not a joke is that I’ve already looked into alternative wedding dresses—how do you feel about a sexy white pantsuit?

  Love,

  Lily

  After sixty days in a Norwegian rehab facility, Ash was back in the States. His welcome-home party at Lix’s LA condo was a low-key affair with limited people: the band, Addy, Billy’s band—Wanks and Janks, Daisy, and a few other select individuals.

  “Stop fucking glowering at me,” Ash said. I sat on the floor between his legs.

  Lix’s frown intensified. “You had sex in my bedroom.” Ah, yes. My rocker had barely stepped through the door before I was hoisted over his shoulder and taken into the nearest empty room—Lix’s bedroom. Some things you can’t change. Our chemistry was just as explosive, maybe more so. All of Ash’s pent-up energy transferred from drinking to sex and exercising. I’d been delighted to see the big man had worked on his mind and body. “I saw you. Worse, I didn’t even get a glimpse of Lily, just your pale ass. I’m going to have to burn my sheets and my retinas.” Lix turned to me. “Are you aware your boyfriend has his brother’s name tattooed on his ass? Weird, if you ask me.”

  Across from us, Warren laughed. He and Addy canoodled on a loveseat. For the record, I’d seen Ash’s ass. It was as pristine as the day he was born.

  Soft music played, some old Al Green. Huge glass doors that led to a balcony had been opened. Breeze ruffled my hair. I closed my eyes, leaned back into Asher. Things weren’t tied up all nice and tidy.

  In a week, Ash and Warren’s parents were coming to visit. I’d be introducing them to the real Lily. They could take her or leave her. I hadn’t heard from my parents. A small sliver of me still hoped they’d get in touch. My love for them would never die. But other loves grow, can become so big they eclipse those that cause us pain. Such was life.

  Lix’s lips pursed. “You all make me sick with this love shit. But I wouldn’t be the great man I am today if I didn’t learn from others. I’ve decided it’s time to grow up. I’m a professional musician you know?”

  Nobody responded.

  Lix didn’t care. “I’m hiring an assistant. Someone to keep my life on track.” He ticked off qualifications on his fingers. “She’ll be neat, hot, and won’t mind sleeping with her boss.”

  “Pretty sure that’s illegal,” Derren mumbled.

  “That’s only if I punish her,” said Lix. He grinned. “Which may be kind of fun. Guess I’m hiring a lawyer too.”

  Ugh, I was too tired and sated to point out everything that was wrong with what was being said. Ash shifted, and something landed in my lap. My eyes popped open and I took the letter in hand. One he didn’t get to send? I smiled up at Ash.

  “Take a look, sweetheart,” he prompted.

  I cracked into it. Unfolding the paper, I read. Then I had to read again out loud, just to be sure. “Petition for a name change?” Color me confused.

  “Keep reading,” Ash urged.

  Addy and Warren smiled at each other, obviously in on the secret.

  “Present name Asher William Price change to proposed name Asher Phillips-Thomas,” I said.

  “Thought about getting you a ring. Then I thought about proposing in a hot-air balloon or some shit. We can do both if you want. But I thought you might like this better. We get hitched, and I’ll take your last name. What do you say?”

  The paper crumpled in my hands. I turned on my knees, then wiggled my way onto his lap. I hugged him tight, then leaned back. “You mean it?”

  “Course I do.” His hands squeezed my hips.

  “What will people think?” I asked, not that I cared, but I needed to know Ash didn’t either.

  “Like I give a shit,” he answered simply. I laughed. “Still haven’t answered me, sweetheart.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

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  Read the next book in the series. All about Addy and her lead singer front man of Wild Minds, Warren Price, AKA King of the Assholes. Available now!

  Good Lies

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  I sucked my thumb, huddling in the corner of the dingy room. My hair was greasy and matted—it had been days since anybody had washed or combed it. I stank.

  I increased my thumb-suckage, watching men in blue uniforms march in and out of the tiny one-bedroom apartment I shared with my mother. Their boots left mud tracks on the gray carpet. Mama would be upset. But then again, maybe she wouldn’t. Mama hadn’t come home in four days, which was exactly how old I was and, coincidentally, how high I could count. Another day and I’d have been shit out of luck. Time would have passed without my knowledge.

  A man with a shiny badge and blue uniform crouched in front me, big shoulders blocking my view of the fracas. “Hey there, sweetheart. My name is Officer Daniels,” the man said. He had a nice smile, kind and warm. “What’s your name?”

  I backed up a step and bumped into the wall. “Ad-Addison,” I mumbled around my thumb. I clutched my blankie tighter, and the picture I held in the same hand crinkled against my chest.

  “What you got there, sweetheart?” Officer Daniels asked. Gently, he pried the glossy photo from my dirty fingers. Officer Daniels’ eyes widened and he whistled low. “What are you doing with a picture of Billy Wanks?” He turned the picture so I could see it. The man in the picture smiled wide at me, a brown bottle in his hand. Mama used to tell me his favorite drink was whiskey. His white-blond hair was spiked, his green eyes the color of emeralds, his lip lifted in a sneer.

  I popped my thumb out, touched the picture, and whispered, “Papa.”

  “Shelby!” Officer Daniels yelled, standing. “Come take a look at this.”

  Another uniformed man hurried to Officer Daniels’ side. “What’s up, Daniels?”

  Officer Daniels flicked the picture. “Girl says Billy Wanks is her dad.”

  Officer Shelby snorted. “Yeah, and my dad’s Santa Claus. Look at this place.” The officer gestured around, encompassing the threadbare couch, the stained carpet, the fridge that rattled and never had any food in it. “Either Billy Wanks is a real big bastard, or that girl’s mama has been telling her some tall tales.”

  “Or,” Officer Daniels said, his teeth on edge. “Maybe he doesn’t know about her.”

  Officer Shelby shook his head. “I wouldn’t bet on it, Daniels. Neighbors said this woman was cuckoo, half the time she was strung out on God knows what. She overdosed. She’s a junkie, and she didn’t do her kid any favors spinning stories about rock star fathers.”

  Officer Daniels stared down at the photo. “I’m going to pass this along to social services. Maybe they can get a hold of him.”

  “Good luck,” Officer Shelby said. “I’ll tell you what. If this is Billy Wanks’ kid, I’ll give you my Christmas bonus.”

  One year later

  The red and black flannel couch itched the back of my legs. I put my hands under my thighs, resisting th
e urge to scratch.

  “How you doing, sweetheart?” Officer Daniels asked, removing his hat and crouching in front of me.

  I smiled at Officer Daniels, poking my tongue through the space where my front two teeth should’ve been. “I lost two teeth this week. The tooth fairy came. And I got extra dessert at lunch today ’cause I shared with Denny during play time.” Outside, kids yelled and laughed as they ran by the window. My foster brother and sisters were playing tag. I sighed deeply. I was so good at tag.

  “Do you remember what we talked about last time I was here, Addy?” Officer Daniels asked, drawing my attention.

  I puckered my lips in concentration. “You told me my daddy was coming soon.” My face lit up with a smile, awesome game of tag forgotten. “Is he here? Did he come?” I bounced around in my seat.

  Officer Daniels twirled the hat in his hands. “He’s here. Just outside in that car. He wants to meet you.” I glanced out the big picture window, at the long black car with glossy windows parked at the curb. I stood ready to run to my father, who I only knew from a picture. Officer Daniels pressed on my shoulder, forcing me back down to the couch. He chuckled. “Just a minute, sweetheart. I want to talk to you before I bring him in.”