by Mia Storm
“But, seriously, Tro. They looked all business. And when I told them you were out of the country, they got all cagey like they were afraid you might not come back if you knew they were looking for you. They asked when you were coming home and tried to make out like it was no big deal either way, but I could tell they were all worked up over something.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them if they want to know your schedule, they should Google you.”
I huff out a laugh. “Hard to hide when I’ve got fifteen thousand pairs of eyes on me every night.”
“Anyway…I just thought you should know. They told me not to mention to you they’d been by. Which, of course, means I called you as soon as they left.”
“Thanks, Kate. You’ve always got my back.”
There’s a pause. “Yeah, well…that’s what friends do, right?”
“See you in a few days,” I say, then disconnect.
My eyes scan the destruction all around me, the evidence of my meltdown last night, and I press my hand to my face. My lower lip’s cracked and swollen from where Grim managed to get a right hook off before I made him pay.
I open my texts and check for anything new from Jamie, but there’s nothing since three this morning, just after they got Grim to the hospital.
He’s gonna be okay, dude, his text says.
So, Grim is going to survive. But the band’s not.
I can’t do this anymore.
I drag myself out of bed, piss, and then climb into the scalding shower, bracing my hands against the cool tile walls.
We’re supposed to play Milan tomorrow night and finish with two shows in Rome. Our tour manager isn’t going to let us cancel unless Grim is on his death bed. I don’t think I hurt him that bad. So, we finish the last few stops and that’s it. My manager’s going to fucking blow a gasket when I tell him we’re canceling the next studio album. Maybe he can renegotiate it into a solo.
I wrap a towel around my waist when I get out and grab my shit and start to pack. The plan was to spend our free day here in Zurich, then fly to Milan tomorrow, but I have to get the fuck out of here.
An hour later, I’m at the ticket desk at the airport. The agent finds a flight with an open first-class seat and switches me, and when I get to Milan, I grab a random hotel flier from the information desk and tell the taxi driver to take me there.
I order up a bottle of Jack and my only plan is to stay lost until someone thinks to find me. Maybe no one will. Maybe they’ll just let me stay lost.
Chapter 26
Shiloh
I land in Sacramento and Lilah and Bran are waiting outside security for me. She jumps up and down and waves when she sees me coming, and I wave back.
Bran takes my duffel as Lilah pulls me into a hug. “Oh my God, it’s so amazing that you’re here!”
“Thanks for letting me come,” I say into her shoulder. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
She draws back and looks into my eyes. “You can always come to me. For anything. Please never forget that, Lo.”
I smile. “Same as always.”
Bran holds out his hand. “Sorry to hear about how things went down with Billie.”
I shake as the knot in my stomach tightens. “I trusted too easily. It won’t happen again.”
Lilah gives me a sad look, but turns for the doors without saying anything. We head to the garage and I follow Bran to an old black car.
“This is cool,” I say, running a finger over the hood.
“Bran’s first love,” Lilah says, elbowing him in the ribs.
He grabs her and crushes her to him. “Not true. Everything is second to you.”
There’s a second they just stare at each other, but then Bran seems to remember where they are and that they’re not alone. He unlocks the car and pulls the front seat forward so I can climb in back.
I slide into the back seat and expect Lilah to sit up front, but instead, she shoves me over and climbs in next to me.
“Home, Jeeves,” she teases Bran.
He smiles and folds his substantial frame into the front seat.
“So…?” she asks cautiously as we pull out of the garage. “Are you really okay?”
I take a deep breath and sink into the seat. “I’m just so pissed. After living my whole fucking life on the street, I can’t believe I was so gullible.” I shake my head. “You don’t expect respectable white people to be fucking con artists, you know?”
She gives me a sympathetic look. “You couldn’t have known, Lo.”
I shake my head at myself again, because I should have. “This whole thing is all just so new to me. I was totally out of my element when I signed with Billie. And she seemed cool, you know? She looked out for me, made sure the label wasn’t screwing me on my contract or promotion or whatever. I just never guessed it was so she could try to steal everything from me later.”
“But you found out in time, so that’s the thing to remember. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Other than the brand new Mercedes, which it turned out she did buy with my money (and not just her fifteen percent of it), there was the house in Beverly Hills she’d put an offer on and used my money for the deposit. She promised to get all the money back so I wouldn’t call the cops, but I didn’t stick around past the place where we closed the account with her name on it and transferred what was left of my concert earnings into mine. I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to report her. People should know. But I’m not sure I want to be the poster child for naïve little girls.
“I want to hear everything new you’ve written,” I tell her to change the subject. I don’t know where anything with my contract stands right now, but if anyone ever lets me record again, it’s going to be Lilah’s stuff.
She tells me about a few new songs, and says they’re her moneymakers at Bran’s bar, where she plays on weekends. “I don’t really need the money anymore,” she says. “My royalty checks for ‘More Than Nothing’ pay the rent, but I don’t think I could ever totally give up performing.”
When she starts talking about school, a deep ache grows in my chest. I love that my life is music now, but part of me longs for what Lilah and I used to have. As bad as it was, living in the group home, trying to survive on the streets, hustling our fellow students for their lunch money, it was home. I don’t know where that is anymore.
We take a turn off the windy road that weaves through the hills and come to a small town with wooden plank sidewalks in front of old wooden buildings.
“That’s the bar that Bran’s family owns,” Lilah says, pointing at one of those buildings as we pass. A worn sign swings from chains over the door declaring it the Sam Hill Saloon.
“Wow…” I say, looking around as Bran continues past. “This is so…”
Lilah cracks up when I trail off, unable to find a word that doesn’t sound like an insult. “I was the same way when Destiny moved us here. I couldn’t understand how anyone would want to live way the hell in the woods. But…” She glances at Bran and her whole face lights. “…you get used to the quiet after a while, and the people are real.” She turns and looks at me. “They actually give a shit about each other here. It’s sort of nice.”
“And everybody knows everybody else’s business,” Bran adds with a disparaging glance at Lilah.
“Yeah…” Lilah says, her face scrunching. “That part’s not always so great, but the rest sort of grows on you.”
We pull up to an apartment building on a hill overlooking town and unload. Bran pops the trunk and shoulders my bag. I packed fast, so all I have is a duffel with my jeans and T-shirts, a few pairs of flip flops, and my toothbrush and bathroom stuff. The rest is still at Billie’s. I wonder if she’s sold it on eBay already.
Lilah hooks her elbow into mine. “Destiny’s on a camping trip with her boyfriend, so we have the place to ourselves for a few days.”
I feel my eyes widen. The Destiny I remember was pure-blooded city-girl. “D
estiny? Camping?”
Lilah smiles. “I told you, this place grows on you.”
I follow them up the walk. “So, who’s the guy?”
“Someone she met waiting tables at Sam Hill.” She leans in and whispers, “Hot firefighter.”
They lead me to a first floor doorway and Lilah pulls out her key. “Bran’s place is over there and upstairs,” she says, pointing farther down the building as she turns the key and opens the door. “We used to live in this fleabag apartment in town over the gun shop, but he made us move up here where he could keep an eye on us.”
“Must make it easier for you two to…” I wiggle my eyebrows. “…you know.”
She laughs and I swear I catch color rising under the collar of Bran’s T-shirt as he follows us in.
He sets my bag on the coffee table and gently grasps her hand, tugging her close. “I’ve got to get to the bar. Will you be down later?”
She steps into his arms and kisses him, slow and easy, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I think again about their age difference. He’s ten years older than her, twenty-seven to her seventeen. But watching them together, there’s no question that he’s good for her. For such a big guy, he holds her so carefully, a hand on her waist and another woven into the hair on the back of her head, as if she’s some delicate thing.
I turn my back to give them their moment and take the opportunity to look around the apartment. It’s tired and small, but it feels homey. The family room is open to the kitchen and has a couch and a coffee table across from a TV on a stand. It’s separated from the kitchen to the left by a short, wide island with two barstools on one end. Next to that is a small kitchen table with three chairs. To the right is a short hallway, the door at the end open to a bathroom.
“We’ll be there,” Lilah says, and when I turn back to them, they’re done kissing.
He holds her a minute longer as they gaze into each other’s eyes, communicating more than can be said with words.
He lets her go and backs toward the door. “You should come down for burgers.”
She nods. “Sounds good.”
“See you in a bit,” he says, turning for the door, but he can’t make it through without one more glance over his shoulder at his woman. She beams at him and he rewards her with a smile that’s one part love and three parts desire.
The door clicks closed and Lilah stares after Bran for a minute before picking up my bag from where he left it on the coffee table and carrying it toward the hallway. “Destiny’s gone until Thursday, so her room is yours until then. After that, you can bunk with me.”
“I’ll figure something out and be out of here in a day or two,” I say, following her through a door on the right.
She sets my bag on the double bed and takes my hands in hers. “You will stay here as long as you need or want to, Lo. Hell, I hope you can stay forever.” She pulls me into her arms and crushes me in a hug. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”
I wrap my arms around her and hug her back. “Me too.”
She really is an amazing friend. She’s the only person I’ve ever trusted completely until Billie. I cringe and shake my head at myself. I can’t believe I trusted her so blindly.
“You okay?” Lilah asks, noticing my expression, no doubt.
I drop onto the bed and flop onto my back. “How was I was so stupid?”
“Listen, Lo. You need some time to regroup, and this is a really great place to do that. You can take all the time you need and no one will bother you here.”
I roll on my side and prop myself up on an elbow. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Where did you start last time?”
I take a deep breath. “With a manager, and we all know how that turned out.”
She lays on her side next to me. “So, you’ll find a better one this time.”
“I don’t trust any of them.”
“Well, chances are that your next manager won’t try to adopt you or whatever, so it won’t be an issue, right? I mean, you said all your accounts are in your name.”
I flop onto my back again. “I just wish I got this business better so I didn’t have to rely so much on other people.”
“What about Tro?” she says with an air of caution. “He’s got to know people he can set you up with.”
I feel my insides harden to cement as images of European beauties draped all over him flash in my mind. “I trust him least of all.”
A wry smile tilts her mouth. “He loves you, Lo.”
“Which is why he shot me down the night before he left for Europe,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
She bolts upright and stares down at me, wide-eyed. “What?”
“I made a serious move and he literally climbed off me and told me it wasn’t happening.”
“Holy shit, Lo! Tell me exactly what he said.”
I cringe a little with the memory. “He said if we did it before he left, all it would be was a quick fuck and that’s not what he wanted.”
Her face softens. “It sounds like he was trying not to take advantage of you…which seems sort of chivalrous to me. And a little hot.”
I stare at the ceiling. “Well, he also said he wouldn’t fuck French girls, but he’s fucking his way through Bulgaria as we speak, so I’m thinking chivalry is dead.”
“You don’t know that, Lo. Maybe he’s not,” she says hopefully.
I tug my phone from my pocket and pull up the picture of him and the actress. “You think?”
She grimaces a little. “You don’t really know what’s going on there, Shiloh. This doesn’t mean anything,” she says, handing my phone back.
I open the article with the shot of Tro all but fucking the Bulgarian princess in the corner of a nightclub. “And this?”
Her grimace deepens, because there’s no denying the obvious. “Sorry, Lo. I really thought…” She shakes her head. “Have you talked to him?”
“He’s texted me, but I haven’t answered. What’s the point?”
“The point is, maybe he’s not fucking his way through Bulgaria or any other country. Maybe he’s waiting ‘til he gets home to be with you.”
I snort a derisive laugh and glance down at the picture. “You’re delusional.”
“I might be, but there’s only one way to find out. You should talk to him.”
I sit up and unzip my bag. “Can I use your shower?”
She looks at me a long minute, not liking my evasion. But finally, she nods. “There’s shampoo and whatever in there. Help yourself.”
I pull a clean thong and T-shirt from my bag and head to the bathroom. I stand in the hot shower longer than I should, but it’s Lilah, so I’m not too worried about being rude. When I come out, she’s in the family room watching TV.
“Feel better?” she asks.
I shrug. “A little, I guess.”
She grins. “Well, you’ll definitely feel better after a Sam Hill burger. People come from all over for them.”
I tug on a pair of jeans from my bag, then pull my hair back. “Let’s go.”
She goes to her room and comes out with her old guitar…the one we both learned to play on. I’m surprised when a lump forms in my throat. That was a lifetime ago. The only reason it didn’t burn in the fire that took half Lilah’s San Francisco city block to the ground when her parents blew up their kitchen cooking meth was because I’d given it to a guy who owed me money for a gambling debt to restring. That was how he got his parents to cover his ass without them knowing he’d been gambling at school.
She holds it up on her way to the door. “Show time.”
It’s a short walk to town, and on our way, she fills me in on the locals. Bran’s mom owns the bar he works in, and has since before Bran and his sister were born. His parents are divorced now, but Lilah says they still spend time together. “Quality time,” she says with a dubious look. “If you know what I mean.”
When we walk into the bar, it’s pretty quiet, a few groups t
ucked into the corners and the big-screen TV on the wall playing some baseball game.
Bran is behind the bar, just where Lilah met him—after he’d already slept with Lilah’s sister. Let’s just say things were complicated between them for a while, and it was only complicated further by the fact she was sixteen and he was twenty-six at the time. But they’ve obviously worked it out.
“I don’t usually play on weeknights,” she says as we move to the bar. She grins at me. “But tonight I’ve got my rockstar best friend here, so it’s happening.”
We slide onto stools and Bran gives Lilah just about the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen from behind the beer taps, where he’s got a fistful of mugs he’s filling. He drops them on a tray and a waitress comes by for them, carting them to a table of guys in the corner.
“What can I get you ladies?” he says, planting his hands on the bar in front of us. With the motion, his pecs flex, and holy shit.
“Two burgers,” she says with a questioning raise of her eyebrows at me. When I nod, she adds, “And two Diet Cokes.”
The waitress comes by the end of the bar on her way to the kitchen and Bran catches her eye. “Tell Jeff I need three burgers.”
She nods and disappears through the swinging door.
He pours our Cokes and then comes around and sits on the stool next to Lilah with a beer. He nods at the guitar. “You playing tonight?”
She smiles and glances at me. “I got my partner in crime here, so I couldn’t resist.”
He looks past Lilah to me. “It’s not going to touch your normal payday,” he says, “but you’re welcome to sing in my bar anytime you want.”
We shoot the shit while we wait for our food, and when Bran gets up to pour another round of beers for the table of guys, I notice one of them looking at us. He gets up and makes his way over as the others watch and throw out the occasional catcall.
“So…” he says when he stops between our stools, scratching his elbow nervously. “Has anyone ever told you, you look exactly like Shiloh Luck?”
Lilah shoves his shoulder. “I know! That’s what I keep telling her, but she doesn’t think so.” She looks at me through a frame she makes with her fingers. “I mean, if her hair was just a little lighter, and maybe if her cheekbones were a little more defined and her nose a little smaller, she’d be like her twin, don’t you think?”