Reverb

by S. M. West

  Part of his support is driven by guilt, even though he’ll deny it. Ending Trojan was his idea. And while we could have found another lead singer, as much as any one of us, Silas Palmer is Trojan. None of us were replaceable, even Gray, the last addition to the band when Rich stepped away.

  “Nah. Not even close. The meeting was a time suck and torture. You know how it is.” I blow out a long breath. “That’s not why I called.”

  “I don’t miss that shit. So what’s up?”

  “I don’t really know where to start. Everything I know or believed has been blown to smithereens.”

  “You okay? Where are you?” The edge, potential fear, is clear in his tone, and I hate to give him cause to feel this way.

  He fucking cares. At least I can count on him. Trust him.

  “I’m…okay. Reeling, but okay. And I’m in the car. Q’s taking me home.”

  “J, stop messin’ around and tell me. What happened?”

  “Eva’s alive.”

  “What? Eva Ramirez?” Silas doesn’t know her, but most probably feels like he does. The poor guy has sat through many a drunken stupor where I’ve cried like a fucking baby about Eva.

  “Yeah. And get this, Bianca lied to me. She’s known all this time. That’s why she showed up all those years ago. She went looking for me so she could make sure I never found out about Eva.”

  “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

  “I wish I was…no, that’s not true. I’m fucking ecstatic that she’s alive. I want that more than anything else. I can’t help but feel like it’s a second chance.”

  “Hell yeah, it is.” He chuckles. “How are you dealing with this? Do you want to talk? What B did is fucked up and pisses me off.”

  “Yeah, I fired her and don’t ever want to see her again.”

  “Uh huh. Bruh, let me come over there and we can hang out, figure this shit out.”

  He’s going into safety mode, forever a key part of my support network, and I smile. “I’m fine, really.”

  “Do you know where she is? Have you talked to her yet? If you need help—”

  “I saw her today. She showed up at the hotel. I get the sense she forced Bianca to tell her where I was.”

  “Holy shit. No wonder your mind’s blown.”

  I fill him in about everything including the aftermath. Bianca was Trojan’s manager for nearly a decade, and her betrayal comes as a shock to Silas.

  “J, I don’t think you should be alone. Let me come over or you come here. Pansy’s bringing home dinner.”

  “Nah, I won’t be good company.”

  “I don’t give a fuck.”

  “Silas, I’m cool. Seriously. I’ve got so many questions for her. I don’t know if I can wait until tomorrow to talk to her.” I fiddle with the guitar pick between my thumb and forefinger. She gave me this, and I always have one with me.

  “Then don’t. You have her number? Call her. Go see her and talk.” His tone is matter-of-fact yet what he’s suggesting isn’t so straightforward.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. What are you waiting for? Don’t waste any more time.”

  Shit. Time. So much has been squandered, and he’s right—I don’t want to waste any more.

  “Okay. I’ll do it. Thanks, bruh.”

  “J, call me night or day. Pansy and I are here for you.”

  “I appreciate it. Really, I do.”

  “Hey, why don’t you both come over tomorrow?”

  “Does Pansy know you’re inviting guests?” A smile pulls at the corners of my lips.

  “You’re not a guest, dumbass. You’re my brother. Come for lunch.”

  My chest swells. “Cool. Thanks. Talk later.”

  My thumb hovers the call button next to Eva’s number. It’s so surreal to think that with one push, I can hear her voice. How many times have I wished I could talk to her? See her? Am I fucking dreaming?

  If so, I don’t ever want to wake up.

  20

  Spoiled and infected

  EVA

  “Why did you come?” Hands on my hips, I face Miguel.

  Exhaustion, the toll from flying all night, stains his usually serene features. “Eva, I was worried sick. When I got your note, I didn’t know what to think. Why would you leave like that? What were you thinking?”

  His exasperation fails to hide what he isn’t saying, what he really wants to know—why I am upsetting the little world they created for me. The lie.

  “You want to know the funny thing about all of this, Miguel?” Senseless tears prick at the back of my eyes. “When I left, I knew nothing of Jared or the filthy lies you have been spewing all these years. I was just sick of living a life that wasn’t mine. A life where I was controlled and had no free will.”

  “Eva, not this again.” He tries for a pained expression, but I’m sure he’s more exasperated than anything else. We’ve discussed this to death.

  “No free will? How can you say such a thing?” Papi dares to feign indignation, and bile crawls up my throat. Who are these men? I can barely believe I used to think so highly of them.

  Angling my head to the side, I purse my lips, frustrated with their contrived ignorance. “You both know exactly what I mean.”

  “Eva.” Miguel nears, placing his hands on my shoulders and staring into my eyes. “Your happiness is all I care about. All we care about. You know this.”

  His knuckles glide along my cheek, and the gesture echoes Jared’s from not too long ago. Except this time, peace quits my body, replaced by resentment. I turn away from his touch, and a growl rumbles low in his chest.

  “My happiness?” Bitter laughter rushes out of my mouth. “I’m finding it hard to believe you. Not too long ago, I’d have never believed you capable of lying to me, and you’ve proven I can’t trust you. And on top of that, I couldn’t stay in Spain. I couldn’t be there with your controlling ways and manipulation.”

  “Eva, let’s not do this again. I apologized for that misunderstanding. You can trust me. Always.” He inches closer and stops, reading my tense and uninviting stance. “I respect your father and he…”

  Pausing, he glances to the man in question whose gaze, in turn, is narrowed, cautious as to where Miguel is going with this.

  “We agreed to not tell you. We agreed to keep all knowledge of that man—”

  “That man? His name is Jared.” The volume of my voice spikes, and a sharp pain shoots up my neck and into my head.

  “Sorry, yes, Jared. At first, I didn’t want to lie to you, but I trusted that Alonso knew best.”

  “Miguel.” My father, who has been quiet for most of this, steps forward, puffing out his chest. It’s a warning.

  These two men have been on the same side for as long as I can recall. Even against my grandfather, despite the fact that Miguel worked for him. And now, this could be shifting.

  “It’s okay, Alonso. Eva has a right to hear this.” Miguel lowers his hand, waving it in a step back or keep quiet motion to my father. “Jared isn’t good for you. Your health is paramount. We only did what we thought was best for you.”

  “Best for me?” It feels like someone is about to tear my heart from my chest. “If you cared for me, you would have told me about Jared. Trusted my judgment, but you didn’t. And all those times I confided in you, told you about him and how much I missed him…not once did you waver, not once did you say a word. I really shouldn’t be surprised.”

  I spin on my heel, facing the large window and the now-fading light.

  “Don’t say that. You can trust me, and I will show you. Let me make it up to you.”

  Shaking my head, I refuse to face him, give him a chance. My generosity has all but died where my supposed family is concerned, and Miguel is one of them.

  “Please leave. I want to be alone.”

  “Eva, we need to talk,” my father says.

  “No. Not now.”

  “When can I come back?” Miguel asks.

  “Back?” I peer ov
er my shoulder, brows knitted. “I don’t want to talk to either of you tonight. I need some space.”

  “I thought I’d stay here…with you.” He glances around the room to suggest there is more than enough space.

  Space isn’t the issue.

  “No. Get your own room.”

  “Eva, why are you being like this?”

  “Like what? Stubborn? Difficult?” The words are daggers meant to wound.

  Whenever I have an idea of my own, a desire that doesn’t suit their conventions of who I am or should be, then I’m a sullen child wanting to get her way.

  “We need to talk. We’ve always been able to settle our differences.” His placating tone chafes.

  Settle? No, more like I comply to his point of view. It’s always been that way with both my father and Miguel. That ended several weeks ago now, even if neither of them chose to accept it. That’s why I left.

  And now, things look even clearer to me in the startling light of their lie. They used my grief and indifference to living as a means to control me, and I’ll admit, I let them.

  Until recently, I didn’t care to shake things up. But not anymore. I’ve put up with this for too long and I am done.

  “We’re not talking anymore tonight. I want to be alone, and you need to find a place to stay.” I turn away from them, more interested in the sunset. “Hopefully they have rooms available.”

  “Eva.” Miguel says my name with such disappointment, and many months ago, I’d have cared, even ached to hear my perceived failure aimed at me. I didn’t want to let either of them down, but now I keep my back to them, hardhearted. Everything has changed.

  The door eventually opens and clicks shut. It’s only then I exhale my breath, the air instantly feeling lighter.

  When we left Jared and Bianca, we drove back to my hotel in mostly silence. The first thing I confirmed was that Miguel had known about Jared. In fact, he’d known almost from the minute I arrived in Spain after the accident.

  Our entire relationship, rotten as it is, is even more spoiled and infected by this duplicitous lie.

  Rubbing at my temples, I call the concierge and arrange for an appointment at the closest float center. A headache is coming on, and I need to relax.

  Once I’ve eliminated the stress and lessened the tension, I go back to the hotel and shower. Coming from the bathroom in my room, my phone rings on the counter.

  “Hello.” Butterflies flutter in my stomach.

  “Hey, it’s Jared.” His voice is a soft rumble, and my heart pangs with an all-too-familiar yearning. My constant state since I was told he was dead.

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “I need to see you.”

  “Okay, where?”

  “Would you be pissed if I told you I’m downstairs in your hotel lobby?”

  Laughter bubbles from my throat. “Of course not. I just got out of the shower. I need about five minutes, but why don’t you come up to my room?”

  I realize how it sounds as the words leave my mouth, but he doesn’t take it the wrong way. I rhyme off the room number and start to dress before even hanging up.

  Unable to contain my excitement, I stick my head out of my room, and my breath catches at the sight of him sauntering down the hotel corridor toward me. Masculine and sexy. My heart pangs and I ignore it, smiling.

  “Hey.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he offers me a lazy, lopsided grin.

  I wish he wouldn’t smile at me the way he is right now. It seizes the air from my lungs, savage and abrupt like the onset of a panic attack, yet the sensation is more exhilaration than fear.

  “You…” He drinks me in, raking his gaze over my body, and I wish I’d had more time to get ready. “You look gorgeous.”

  My cheeks heat, and I close the door behind him, shaking off my girlish nerves. “Thanks, but hardly. I didn’t have any time to do anything but throw on some clothes.”

  I’m in simple black leggings and a matching tank top. My hair is back in a braid, damp from my shower.

  “You are perfect.” He nabs the end of my braid and lightly pulls.

  We stand there staring, and every breath, every blink, is combustible. Just a spark and we’d set off fireworks.

  I glance down to his strong, tanned forearms, a hint of ink peeking from the cuff of his short sleeve. Tempted to roll up the fabric, my fingers twitch to outline the dark lines etched into his skin.

  “Let’s have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? Eat?” It isn’t easy to pull back from his magnetic force field, but I manage to break away.

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  He follows me into the small seating area furnished with a loveseat and armchair. We sit side by side, and I curl into the corner, legs tucked under me, then twist to face him.

  “Is this both strange and familiar?” I blurt out, not holding anything back.

  “Yeah, and I’ve got so many questions. How about you?”

  “Yes. And I want to know everything. What happened to you? How did you end up where you are now?”

  He chuckles, shaking his head. “How much time do you have?”

  “All the time in the world for you.” My fingers wrap around his wrist, and he slides his hand to rest on top of mine.

  “Bianca told me in the hospital that you died.” I flinch—just thinking about my sister stirs something ugly deep within me—and he pauses, gently rubbing my hand. “I never even got to say goodbye to you. They wouldn’t let me come near you. I think about it now and it makes sense. You weren’t dead.”

  “It’s only been a day, but when I think about the things both my father and Bianca have said and done over the years, I am beginning to see it all in a different light. It’s so clear, their manipulation, now that I know their motive.”

  “Yeah. I remember the first time I was in Barcelona, we were on tour and she refused to let me go out alone. She insisted on coming, and she’d been snippy, rushing me through La Rambla. I’d wanted to see where you’d gotten the guitar picks.”

  He pulls a pick from his pocket and I gasp, grabbing for the small object. “Oh my God, you still have it?” My hand covers my mouth and my heart is already racing, now kicking into double time. I shouldn’t be surprised.

  “All but one.” His smile is gentle and maybe a little remorseful. “I lost one on tour. I have at least one pick with me at all times.”

  “Forget-me-nots are still my favorite flower.” My finger glides over the smooth top, the blue flower just beneath the surface.

  “Mine too.” His hand curls around mine, holding the pick. “I wish I’d challenged her more back then. When I think about her strange behavior, it’s just so obvious now.”

  “Sure, with hindsight, yes. But there’s no way you’d have imagined this. I never thought them capable of something so horrible.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have even come close to guessing the lengths they went to. Anyway, I took off, hit the streets even though I swore I never would. I was literally months from my high school diploma, but I couldn’t stay.”

  He leans back into the cushion, bringing my hand with his. He’s relaxed, laid-back like we do this every day. Just sitting together and enjoying each other’s company.

  21

  Every opposition

  EVA

  His lopsided grin is alluring and contagious as he drinks me in.

  “You’re going to like this—before I left, I had nothing to lose, and I told Brenda everything about the Garcias.”

  “You did?” A smile blooms on my lips.

  “Yeah. I didn’t stick around to find out what happened to them, but it felt good knowing I’d spoken up. I’d hoped you’d have been proud of me.”

  “Of course. Always. You were a child—we both were—and while I knew saying something was the right thing to do, I was scared and…selfish.”

  “Selfish?” His brows furrow.

  “Yes. I was afraid of losing you, and that’s what kept me silent.”

  “Hey
, I get it. I was selfish too. It was survival of the fittest, and I was only looking out for myself.”

  “That isn’t true.” My hand cups one side of his chiseled jaw.

  He turns his face, warm lips pressing into my palm. Everything inside me clenches, blood rushing through me, heating my throbbing core. I shudder, awakened and greedy for more.

  His eyes glint, needy and hot. I drop my hand, more for my sanity than anything else. I regret the move instantly.

  Riddled with filthy thoughts of what I want to do to him and him to me, I shut my desires down. For now. We need to go slow, and I need to focus on our conversation, wanting to know all there is to know about him.

  “Where did you go? You were still just a boy.”

  “I was eighteen.”

  “You know what I mean. You had no one to turn to.” I stop short of mentioning Ike. Someone else he lost. He was alone.

  “Yeah, at first it was rough, but I couldn’t stay there. I lived on the streets, sometimes shelters but most times, they were more dangerous than fending for yourself on the side of the road. I met Silas in a boarding house. Silas Palmer.”

  “Isn’t he the lead singer of your band?” I recall the name and face from the magazine article I could recite verbatim.

  “Yeah. Trojan. He was the lead singer. And shortly after that, we met Eli and Rich. And Trojan was born. We weren’t anything to speak of until we were discovered in the right place at the right time.”

  He laughs, but it’s brittle and his warm eyes cloud. “I’m making it sound like it all happened at once, but it was slow and grueling. I don’t want to hide anything from you. Tell you like it is. There were nights we were hungry and had no place to sleep.”

  He pulls his hand from mine, widening his legs and bending forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. Dark strands of hair obscure his beautiful face.

  “Fuck, sometimes we were so desperate, there were nights we’d split up, find some chicks, and shack up with them. Sex for food and a bed.”

  Bile stirs, gurgling up my throat, and my muscles tense. I don’t want to hear this, but I do. I want to know everything. I always have when it comes to Jared. My heart aches for that young man—alone, scared, and hungry.