Sex God

by Katie McCoy

  “Like hell you couldn’t! This is my sister we’re talking about, not one of your fucking groupies!”

  “Calm down, Luke,” I tried to interrupt, but he ignored me.

  “I trusted you to look out for her,” he growled. “And instead, you went and . . .” He trailed off, not wanting to finish that thought. “Fuck!”

  Then without warning, Luke lunged for Austin, and the two of them stumbled back against the wall. Luke swung, and his fist connected with Austin’s cheek, hard enough to make me wince. Then Austin had him around the waist, and they were tussling down on the dirty ground. It was a blur of flying fists and angry grunts, and for a moment, I was frozen in shock.

  Then I snapped back to life.

  “Stop it!” I cried out, grabbing the back of Luke’s shirt, pulling him hard enough for the fabric to rip. “Stop!”

  He ignored me, but I managed to grab him around the waist. I wasn’t nearly as strong or as big as he was, but I tightened my grip on him, and let all my body weight hang off of him like we were kids again.

  “Let go.” He tried to shake me off, but I wouldn’t release him.

  “Stop fighting and I will,” I demanded.

  With an annoyed snort, Luke lowered his fists and stepped back. I let go of him, and in order to guarantee that they wouldn’t start fighting again, I got in between them.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I cried, but Luke just looked stubborn.

  “This is between us.”

  “No, it’s about me.”

  “Just give me a chance to explain,” Austin said behind me, but Luke shook his head.

  “My sister.” He ran his hand through his hair, ignoring the fact that I was standing right in front of him. “You were fucking my sister and you lied about it. You’ll hurt her, the way you hurt all the girls you screw.”

  Austin recoiled. “This is different,” he said.

  His claim would have been more meaningful if both of them weren’t speaking about me as I wasn’t standing right there. In fact, both of them seemed to have completely forgotten about me even though I was in between them. Literally.

  “Bullshit,” Luke spat. “And even if it was the truth, you know you’re not good enough for her.”

  I could see that Luke’s comment hurt Austin deeply. I shoved Luke. “You’re being a real asshole.”

  “You don’t understand,” Luke told me, finally looking at me. “You don’t know what he’s like with women.”

  “I know what he’s like with me,” I said fiercely. “And he’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman.”

  Luke shook his head. “You’re so naïve,” he argued stubbornly. “Do you think you’re special? I’ve seen a hundred girls fall at his feet over the years. And all of them end up hurt.”

  “Do you really think so little of me?” I challenged him, and Luke looked away.

  “It’s not you I’m worried about.” He looked at Austin and let out a sound of disgust. “You know what? Fuck this. You’ve both been lying to me. Thanks for nothing.”

  Before I could respond, he stalked off, disappearing around the corner and into the night.

  I let out a shaky breath. Fuck. That was pretty much the worst-case scenario of telling Luke about us, but still, I felt a kind of twisted relief that it was all out in the open. Things couldn’t get much worse, right?

  I turned to face Austin, who was still slumped back against the wall, rubbing his black eye. “Well, that went well,” I joked.

  He didn’t reply.

  “Are you OK?” I asked him, reaching out to examine his face.

  But he pulled away from me. “Don’t.”

  “Austin, you’re hurt.”

  But he shook his head. “I told you this would happen.”

  “So, my brother’s being an ass,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “He’ll get over it.”

  “No, he won’t.” Austin looked conflicted. “And anyway, he’s right.”

  “About what?”

  “Me,” Austin said, his voice heavy. “I’m a scumbag.”

  “Stop it,” I said, angry. “Luke is just mad he found us like that. He said some things, but he didn’t mean them.”

  Austin looked at me, his bruise turning purple now.

  “Doesn’t he?” he said, sounding bitter. “Tell me one thing he got wrong. Because I did screw around, I did break a lot of hearts, and I don’t deserve someone like you.”

  “Stop it.” I began to get a cold feeling, like we were on the edge of something, about to fall—and hit the ground. “Everyone just needs to cool down.”

  “No.” Austin’s jaw set. “I tried to stay away from you, because I knew something like this would happen.”

  “So, what, it's my fault?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “Austin, what are you saying?”

  “That we knew from the start this was wrong. It’s all wrong.” He wouldn’t look at me, just stared at the ground. “So maybe it’s better if we just call it quits now, before we do any more damage.”

  “Austin . . .” I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

  “Goodbye, Mia.” Austin swallowed, and for a moment, I saw the regret in his eyes. Then the shutters slammed down, and his face was unreadable again. “I’m sorry. But you’re better off without me.”

  He didn’t give me time to argue, he just walked away, leaving me alone in the cold night air with my heart breaking in two.

  22

  Mia

  My brother called the next day. And the next. But all week long, I refused to talk to him. He kept leaving apologetic voicemails and sending me sad-face gifs, but I couldn’t deal with him right now, not after what he’d done. And meanwhile, the one person I wanted to hear from was completely silent.

  I was heartbroken. And furious at myself.

  I’d believed Austin was different, but he’d just proven Luke was right—throwing me away like I meant nothing. I had been a fool to think that I was different. Maybe I hadn’t been just one of his groupies, maybe he had truly believed that there was something between us, but in the end, he hadn’t been willing to fight for us. He took the easy way out, and the end result was the same.

  Me, alone, hurting like hell and feeling like a fool.

  And I was tired of it. Tired and sad and living off of ice cream and Thin Mints. The worst part about all of it was that it was impossible to avoid Austin. He was everywhere. His record went straight to number one, just like we all expected, and all everyone wanted to talk about online and on TV was his comeback. I couldn’t avoid his face. His stupid, handsome, sexy-as-hell face. I had called in sick on Monday and was steadfastly avoiding everyone, including my editor. He was desperate for my profile, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold off delivering a draft.

  I was wallowing in my pajamas in my room with all the lights off when there was a soft knock on my door. Grace poked her head in to check on me.

  “How are you?” she asked, her voice sweet and gentle.

  “Not great,” I admitted.

  “Cassie’s here,” she told me. “We’re both worried about you.”

  “Damn right,” Cassie said, barging into my bedroom and flipping on the light.

  I winced at the brightness, curling deeper into my blankets.

  “This is ridiculous,” Cassie told me, standing at the foot of my bed.

  “Be nice,” Grace chided. “This isn’t easy.”

  “I know it’s not easy,” Cassie said sympathetically. “But this isn’t going to help. Trust me,” she ordered. “When you get your heart broken, you can’t just let your whole life fall apart. You have to rebuild. You have to get stronger.”

  “I can’t,” I told her, a hollow ache in my chest. “Not yet.”

  “Bullshit,” she said. “You have an article to write, remember? Focus on that, get it done, and then we’ll figure out your next step.”

  “I don’t want to,” I told her, before remembering one of the reasons I actually couldn’t g
et any work done. “Besides, I left my laptop at Austin’s.”

  Cassie yanked the blankets off of my bed in one smooth motion, nearly knocking Grace off the bed in the process.

  “No excuses,” she ordered. “We’re going to get that laptop, and we’re going to get it now.”

  There was no arguing with Cassie when she got this way. And I didn’t have the energy to try. So I put on a pair of jeans and a shirt I usually reserved for laundry day and reluctantly followed Cassie out of the apartment. Grace dutifully followed, hopefully there to ensure that Cassie didn’t beat the crap out of Austin if we ran into him. She had definitely threatened it a few times since the party.

  “Do you want one of us to go up with you?” Grace asked gently as we pulled up in front of Austin’s building.

  I felt sick.

  What if Austin was home? Why had I thrown on my ugliest clothes instead of getting dolled up to prove to him that he couldn’t get to me? This was a terrible idea. I tried to tell that to Cassie, but she practically shoved me out of the car.

  “Just get your things and go,” she ordered. “You’ll feel better once you have it back, I promise.”

  I didn’t believe her at all, but Cassie’s tough love, as horrible as it usually was in the moment, had proven time and time again to be an effective way of dealing with terrible situations.

  Holding myself tall, I walked into the lobby where I was recognized by the doorman.

  “Sorry, hon,” the kindly older man said. “He’s not home.”

  I let out the breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding.

  “That’s OK,” I told him. “I just need to get something that I left here.”

  I was surprised that he let me in. But he did, leaving me alone in Austin’s apartment while he went back downstairs to man the lobby. I promised him I’d only be a few minutes. I just wanted to get my laptop and get the hell out of there. I had no intention of lingering.

  And luckily my laptop was exactly where I had left it—on the kitchen counter.

  The place looked messier than usual—the counter covered with paperwork. I didn’t mean to pry, but I couldn’t help just taking a peek at what was spread out over the marble. Bank statements. Nothing of much interest, except . . .

  Even though I knew it was wrong, even though I knew it was an invasion of privacy, I couldn’t help looking. I justified it by telling myself that Austin had hurt me, so I didn’t have to care about his feelings. Didn’t have to worry about him feeling betrayed. All’s fair and all that jazz. But as I was snooping, I noticed a recurring payment on Austin’s bank statements. $5,000 a month, every month, dating back years, to someone named Molly Jenkins.

  I dropped the papers like they were on fire and got the hell out of there.

  * * *

  “There could be an innocent explanation,” Grace offered when we got back to the apartment. But Cassie was shaking her head.

  “No way,” she said. “This is some shady shit.”

  “What could it be?” I wondered out loud, still in shock.

  “It might be nothing,” Grace tried, only to be interrupted by Cassie.

  “It could be blackmail of some sort,” she said. “Or bribery. Hush money?”

  “That doesn’t seem like Austin,” Grace said generously, but Cassie paused.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Just . . . you know what gets paid every month? Child support.”

  My stomach twisted.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I finally said. “Whatever Austin and I had is over. So I don’t need to know who Molly Jenkins is, or why Austin gives her money every month.”

  Cassie looked like she wanted to say something, but an elbow from Grace kept her quiet. I tucked my laptop under my arm and addressed my two friends.

  “I appreciate that you both are trying to help,” I told them. “But right now, I just want to be left alone.”

  I then went into my room and shut the door.

  * * *

  To their credit, they left me alone. For an hour.

  I had returned to my wallowing, getting right back into bed without bothering to change my clothes. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had discovered. I couldn’t stop wondering about Molly and what she meant to Austin. The possibilities that Cassie had thrown out just kept circulating through my head, and I was unable to think about anything else.

  I felt like I didn’t know Austin at all.

  I grabbed my pillow and pressed it to my face. Then I let out a scream.

  It was muffled, but loud enough that I almost didn’t hear the knock on the door. But instead of someone coming in, I heard the slide of something being pushed under the door. I got up and found a folded piece of paper on the floor.

  It was from Cassie.

  “Just in case you want to find out the truth,” she had written. Below that was an address for a Molly Jenkins living in Flatbush.

  I should have left it alone. I should have taken Cassie’s note and thrown it in the trash. But I didn’t. Instead, I got out of bed, snuck out of the apartment without telling Grace or Cassie where I was going, and hopped on a train to Flatbush. I second-guessed myself the whole way, but something drove me on.

  I needed to know the truth about him, and since Austin was still acting like I’d never existed, this was my only option.

  OK, maybe I could have called him up and asked him straight out. Or, better yet, minded my own damn business. But after everything I’d been through, a part of me was still hoping for an innocent explanation. Something I could hold onto so I could believe Austin really was a decent guy.

  And if not . . . Learning the truth might help me get over him and move on.

  I reached the address that Cassie had given me. It was a nice little walk-up—not too fancy, but not too run-down either. Molly’s apartment was on the ground level, and there was a little garden out front that was in full bloom. It was an explosion of greenery and beauty in a fairly nondescript neighborhood, and made me even more curious who she would be.

  Then my conscience bubbled up. What the hell was I doing? I was acting like a crazy, jealous stalker: going through his mail, chasing after some random woman. Clearly, all the sugar I’d been binge-eating had gone to my head, because there was no reasonable justification for acting this way.

  You’re better than this, Mia.

  I gulped, and turned to leave. But not fast enough.

  “You!” A familiar face had just stepped out of the apartment, and she was smiling at me.

  I froze. It was the girl from the concert in Boston. The one who had lent me her gorgeous leather jacket.

  The one who had introduced herself as Molly.

  “Hi,” I said slowly, putting the pieces together.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, frowning. “You’re friends with Austin, right? Is everything OK?”

  I nodded, but my attention was elsewhere. Instead of focusing on Molly, all I could see was the toddler peering out from behind her legs.

  A toddler. Child support.

  Oh shit.

  Just what had Austin been hiding?

  23

  Mia

  The kid was cute. Really cute. Tousled hair, big beautiful eyes and a huge, blinding smile. Austin-type cute. I felt sick to my stomach. The world seemed to go in and out of focus, and for a minute I thought I might faint.

  “Are you OK?” Molly took a step forward. “You look white as a sheet.”

  “I just . . .” I tried to pull it together. A kid? He had a kid, and he never thought to mention him?

  “Come, sit down.” Molly rushed to steer me to the front steps. “Do you want a glass of water?”

  “No, I’m fine,” I lied, even though my head was spinning. “I just . . .” I paused. “He really looks like Austin,” I said, almost to myself, but Molly tensed.

  “What do you . . . ? Oh.” She looked from me to the kid and back again. “You better come in.”

  Even though I really didn�
�t want to spend more time with Austin’s baby-mama and his secret baby, I had come this far, hadn’t I? Even though the broken-hearted girl in me wanted to run away as far as possible from all this drama, the reporter in me wanted to get the story. The whole story.

  So I followed Molly into her apartment.

  The inside was just as cozy as the outside—potted plants everywhere, a play area set up in the center of the living room overflowing with toys, and a wall completely lined with books.

  “Let me get you that water,” Molly said, and bustled to the kitchen. She reappeared and handed me the glass. I gulped it down.

  Dammit. The kid was really cute. He looked at me with his big, round eyes and it was impossible not to melt a little bit. Glancing around, I found something that confirmed my exact fears. Across from us on a bookshelf was a framed photo of Molly, Austin and the kid, but in infant form. Everyone was smiling.

  “His name is Shawn,” Molly said, following my gaze. “And he’s not Austin’s.”

  “It’s OK,” I told her. “I don’t know if he’s making you keep it a secret, but, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

  But Molly just laughed. “Is that what you think? That Austin got me tied up in some non-disclosure agreement? We’re just friends. Austin is involved because Shawn’s real dad isn’t.”

  She looked embarrassed. “His real dad is Danny.”

  I blinked.

  “Method of Madness’ bassist?” I asked.

  Molly nodded, her face going red. “Danny and I were high school sweethearts,” she told me. “We knew each other before he met Austin, before they founded the band. I even played with them for a while, helped out with shows and stuff.”

  I paused, trying to follow the story. “But why the money? Austin pays you every month.”

  Molly ducked her head, her hair falling in front of her face. “That’s not for Shawn,” she said. She sighed, then looked up. “Those are my royalty payments. For my songs.”

  I sat down with a thump. “Your songs?”

  Molly gave me a rueful smile. “I wanted to be a poet, but Danny always said that there wasn’t any money in poetry. That my words were better as songs. At first I didn’t mind—I wanted to help him. I thought that his success would be my success, that we were in it together.”