Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel)

by Amanada Lawless

  “I agree,” Kate says, planting her hands on her hips, “Whatever you’re looking for from us, I think you’re going to be disappointed. There’s no place for you in this family.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Dad laughs, “Of course there’s a place for me. I helped make you, didn’t I?”

  “You provided genetic material,” I say, “But you didn’t have a hand in raising us, that’s for sure. And it’s the raising part that counts. You’re just a glorified sperm donor.”

  “Ellie,” he frowns, “Don’t say such hurtful things! I don’t know where you picked up these manners. Maybe from your wild and crazy musician friends?”

  “First of all, you don’t deserve any cordiality,” I tell him, “And what are you talking about, my musician friends?”

  “Come on,” he says, winking at me, “You’ve been all over the place the last few days! You’ve made quite the splash in the music scene, haven’t you? I bet it has to do with your name. That was my idea, you know. Naming you after The Beatles' song. Your mom wanted to go with Lucy in the Sky, but I knew better. I knew you’d be a big star someday.”

  “I’m not a big star,” I tell him, growing wary. I knew that this little drop in visit was too well-timed to be coincidental. He’s here for one reason, and one reason only—he wants to glom onto whatever beginnings of a career I’m building.

  For a fleeting moment before the anger set in, I had almost let myself be excited to see him. As a kid, before I understood the severity of his grievances, I would pray for my family to put itself back together again.

  All of my friends growing up came from standard-issue suburban families. Sure, there were some divorced parents, but all the kids still had two parents in their lives—sometimes even three or four if there were step parents involved! Kate and I were always the strange kids with just a mom. And though no one mentioned it as we got older, I still remember being quizzed and teased about my unconventional family when I was younger.

  Mom did a good job of keeping her boyfriends away from us, unless they were very serious contenders for her heart. She didn’t shy away from dating, of course, but never again did any man permeate our little three-person family once Dad was out of the picture.

  We learned to be self-sufficient, without any help. I grew up with the keen knowledge that men were inherently untrustworthy. It was always my understanding that they weren’t necessarily bad, as a gender, but that they were so naturally flawed that they simply weren’t worth relying on.

  I myself have never had a real, loving relationship with a man in my life. The boys I’ve dated never warranted a real commitment on my part, and I’ve kept my heart well-guarded.

  I feel a hard knot in the pit of my stomach as I realize why my flight from Hawk and Dove felt so desperate. It wasn’t as though Trent had really done anything wrong, it was simply the fact that I care enough about him to be hurt by him that drove me away.

  If things fall apart with Trent because of my fractured relationship with trust and loyalty, I’ll never forgive myself. A new surge of anger ripples through me as I stare down the man sitting beside my mother.

  “So, what is it you’re looking for?” I all but snarl, “Are you expecting some share of my earnings, or something? Are we finally worth your time and affection now that I might stand to make a little bit of money? Or is it just the vicarious fame you’re after?”

  “Whoa! Slow down!” he says, holding up his hands, “There’s no need to vilify me!”

  “You’re right,” I say, “You do a perfectly good job of it yourself, after all. How dare you come back here just to take advantage of us! You can’t just waltz in and pick things up as if you’d never left.”

  “Why not?” he says, playing dumb, “I’ve missed out on a lot with you girls, and I take the full blame for that, really I do.”

  “Well obviously,” Kate says.

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life,” Dad goes on. I half expect him to pull out a soapbox for this pathetic little soliloquy. “I never appreciated my family. Your mother and I were very much in love as young people. I can’t tell you how wonderful those years were when we had no money. We just enjoyed ourselves with what little we had, without a care in the world. Those were some of the best times of my life.

  And then you girls came along, and we really had a little family. I fell in love with you both as soon as you were born. Most of the time, all I wanted to do was stay home and play with you.

  But do you know what happened? I started making money, and everything went straight to shit. I was corrupted by the opportunities that money creates. I started wanting more than I needed, more than anyone could ever need. I started being nasty to people, and I grew to be incredibly selfish. I was a man of simple pleasures before I started getting rich, but as soon as I had a little money to throw around, nothing was good enough anymore. I forgot that I already had everything I needed in my family, I lost sight of that, and I started scrambling around for as much as I could get.

  After your mother took you girls and left, there was nothing for me. I lived for excess, and ran myself straight into the ground in my pursuit of the next moment of pleasure. I lost my job, all of my money, couldn’t even help out with you girls in the end. I was forced to take a good, hard look at my life and discover what was important again. And what I realized was that I didn’t need to have the best material things in life.

  I got sober, found an honest job in a sporting goods store, and lived as simply as I could. And it’s been life-changing, it really has.”

  “That’s a charming story,” Mom says, unable to hold her silence any longer, “But you’ve yet to tell us what, exactly, you’re doing here now.”

  “To be perfectly frank,” Dad says, “I did come here because I caught wind of Ellie’s success. I haven’t done a good job of keeping up with you girls, so at first I didn’t even realize that the Ellie all over the Internet was my Ellie.”

  “I’m not your Ellie,” I mutter.

  “But then it clicked,” my dad says, ignoring me, “That was my little girl in all the pictures! There was so much chatter to wade through. Gossip about that Mitch fellow, and all that talk about Trent Parker. I have to tell you dear, some of those images were rather difficult to look at.”

  I blush hotly, remembering the pictures of Trent and I dancing together, racing back up the hill at the end of the night. It already felt like an invasion of my privacy for them to have been printed in the first place, but to know that my dad was looking at them is a whole new level of mortification.

  “What’s your point?” I ask him hotly.

  “My point,” he says, “Is that those pictures worried me. You must have more than a little bit of my temperament in you, Eleanor. I never had any interest in booze and parties and drugs before I had a taste. Seeing you out of control like that took me right back to my wild days.”

  “It’s not for you to determine when I’m out of control!” I shout, “For one thing, I’m a grown woman, not answerable to anyone. And, more importantly, don’t you dare say that I’m anything like you.”

  “But you are, dear,” he goes on, “As much as it might disappoint you. You’re my daughter whether you like it or not. And I’m not jumping to any conclusions—those pictures speak for themselves. You can’t let wealth and celebrity spoil you, Ellie. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I say, “But I’m perfectly capable of deciding for myself what happens in my own career.”

  “Sometimes these things are difficult to control,” Dad insists, “They can get out of hand really quickly. By the time you realize that something is off, it might be too late.”

  “So, what exactly are you suggesting?” I ask, taking a menacing step forward, “That I hang up my songwriting career, go back to school for something practical, and resign myself to being unhappy? Is that your grand idea for my future?”

  “Of course not!” my dad says, his eyes wide, “I would n
ever suggest that you back down from your dreams. Your mother was an artist too, remember? I supported her ambitions, and I fully support yours. I just think that you need to be strategic about how you handle your fame.”

  “Is this coming to a point sometime soon?” My mom asks.

  “I really hope so,” Kate answers.

  “Of course,” Dad says, spreading his arms to us all, “I have an idea that will not only bring this family back together, it will also ensure Ellie’s good fortune and secure her future.”

  “Oh, do tell,” I say sarcastically.

  “I would like to offer my services as your manager and conservator!” he says grandly.

  For a moment the room is dead silent. The three of us women stare dumbly at this near-stranger who has barged back into our lives. I think, at first, that I must have heard him incorrectly. He couldn’t possibly be so crude, so brazen.

  “My...conservator?” I repeat, tasting the sour word on my tongue.

  “Yes,” Dad says cheerfully, “I have quite the financial mind, you know. I could help you invest and manage your income properly, to make sure that you never go overboard the way I did.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I fume, “You came here, after years of radio silence, to suggest that I put my fledgling career in your hands, because you’re the responsible adult in this scenario?”

  “More or less,” he says.

  “You’re asking me...for money,” I say, my entire body trembling with outrage. “You have the audacity to ask me for anything, after what you’ve done to us?!”

  “Ellie, don’t get upset,” he says, standing up to approach me. The mere thought of his embrace makes me want to vomit.

  “Stay away from me!” I screech, backing up against the wall, “You’re unbelievable!”

  “It’s OK,” Kate says, coming toward me, “Ellie, he can’t hurt us now.”

  “I don’t care,” I scream, beside myself with hurt and anger.

  “You must be overtired,” Dad says, looking offended by my reaction.

  “Fuck you,” I spit at him, “You know what? Even after everything you did, I never really hated you. Not once in my entire life...until this moment.”

  “You don’t mean that,” he says.

  “Oh, but I do,” I tell him, “I think that you’re a repulsive, presumptuous, pig-headed—”

  The chime of the doorbell cuts off my hateful spree. We all look toward the front door, torn from the heated moment at hand. Mom rises from the couch, staggering a bit under the pressure of the situation, and makes her way to the door.

  “I suppose...I’ll get it,” she says, dazed by the bizarre situation that’s cropped up in her living room.

  Kate puts her arm around my shoulders as we stare down our father across the room, frozen in a tense tableau. His plastered-on smile is beginning to weaken under the force of our distaste. I hear Mom pull open the front door behind us.

  A small, strangled sound of shock escapes her, and I tear my eyes away from Dad to see what’s wrong. She’s standing before the open doorway, her hand raised to her mouth in speechless wonder.

  “Mom?” I say, edging toward her, “Mom, who is it?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  All of a sudden, I feel like a fifteen-year-old boy again.

  I shuffle my feet and smile gamely at the woman I have to assume is Ellie’s mother. She’s staring at me, wide-eyed, and I get the feeling that my presence is not particularly welcome at the moment. I wonder if Ellie’s already told her family to turn me away on sight, or if she’s so devastated that her mom and sister will never be able to give me a chance.

  I knew it was a crazy idea, coming all the way here after Ellie fled the festival, but the sheer madness of my actions is just starting to sink in.

  “Mom?” says a voice from within the house. My heart slams hard against my ribs as I realize that it’s Ellie speaking.

  “Mom, who is it?”

  “I...You...” the mother stutters, standing perfectly still in the doorway.

  “Hi, Mrs. Jackson,” I venture. I very nearly bow, this whole interaction feels so formal. “We haven’t met. But I’m—”

  “Trent?”

  My eyes land on Ellie, peering around her mother’s frozen form. She looks absolutely beside herself, and a jolt of guilt sears my every nerve. I'm responsible for upsetting her like this, after all. I hold her gaze, trying to communicate without any words how sorry I am for screwing things up between us.

  “Who’s out there?” says a deep voice from within.

  “Mom, give us a minute,” Ellie says, hurrying out onto the porch. Pale and shaken, she closes the door as her mother retreats into the house. She turns to face me, and I can see full well that she’s rattled to the core.

  “Ellie,” I breathe, “What’s—”

  But the words are knocked out of my mouth as she rushes toward me and throws herself into my arms. I catch her gratefully, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. We stand there together, fervent in our silence, and drink in the comfort of each other’s bodies. I never knew before meeting Ellie how much power there could be in a simple embrace. There are lots of things I never knew before meeting her.

  She clasps her hands around my neck and looks up at me, blinking back tears. “You’re here,” she says, a bit bewildered, “How...?”

  “I believe this belongs to you,” I say, producing her wallet from my back pocket.

  “My...I drove all the way here without...? Well. Super,” she says, taking the item from me. I can tell that she’s completely overwhelmed, beside herself with about a thousand conflicting emotions.

  “Ellie, I’m so sorry,” I tell her, placing my hands on her hips, “I’m sorry about the pictures, and about Kelly, and about Mitch. I’m sorry that I can’t just be good to you without dragging you through the media mud with me. You deserve so much better than that. And what happened between us...if it was too rushed, if you felt pressured, just do me a favor and slug me in the jaw, OK?”

  “Trent,” she says softly, laying a protective hand on my cheek, “I would never do anything to that jaw of yours. That jaw’s a national treasure.”

  I smile, amazed at her unrelenting sense of humor. “So, you don’t hate me?”

  “Of course not,” she says.

  “That’s...great. I mean, I had like three more minutes of speech prepared to get you to forgive me, but I—”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” she says, “I got scared. Everything was happening so fast. With you, with the media, and the fame...I panicked. I know nothing happened with between you and that bitch. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I think this is uncharted territory for us both,” I tell her.

  “Oh, good. Something we’re both oblivious about, for a change,” she laughs weakly. As I watch, her expression becomes strained once more.

  “What is it?” I ask, lifting her chin.

  “God...I don’t even know where to begin,” she says, shaking her head.

  “Is it something between us?” I ask warily.

  “No! Well, not really...It’s so messed up, Trent. Everything’s just going to hell all at once.”

  “Did something happen?” I ask insistently.

  “It’s...my dad,” she says finally.

  “Your dad...” I say, realizing that I know absolutely nothing about her family. I suppose we didn’t quite get to the unveiling of our closeted skeletons back at the festival. “Is he sick?”

  “No,” she says, “He’s...Here.”

  “He’s not...usually?”

  “Not since I was a kid,” she tells me, “I got back here, and he was waiting for me. Unannounced. After all this time. Apparently, he’s been following my escapades from afar, and decided to come get a slice of the action for himself. He’s still in there, and I don’t know what to do...I don’t know how to make him leave.”

  “He won’t leave?” I ask, feeling a deep, protective fury
rising within me.

  “No,” she says, growing angry herself, “He’s just parked himself on the couch like he owns the goddamned place. The sight of him is making me sick, I swear to god...”

  “I think I can help,” I tell her, “I have some experience with dads who would be better off gone.”

  “Trent, you shouldn’t have to get involved with this,” she says.

  “I don’t have to do anything,” I tell her, “I want to help, in whatever way I can. Will you let me do that?”

  She nods, slowly. I can tell that she’s uncomfortable heaping this kind of responsibility on me. If only she knew what lengths I would go to make her life just a little bit better, a little bit easier.

  I’m quickly coming to understand that there’s just about nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman. And while that thought might scare the shit out of me, I intend to rush headfirst into it, rather than risk losing her forever. I square my shoulders as Ellie cracks open the door and leads me into her home.

  All that I want to do the moment I cross the threshold is take in the place where Ellie grew up. I want to see every old picture, every scrap of evidence from her childhood. I want to see what her bedroom looks like, what kinds of cereal are stocked in the cupboard—every insignificant little piece of information I can get my hands on.

  But there are more pressing things to deal with first. I look into the living room, where a fractured family portrait is waiting.

  Ellie’s mom is standing in the center of the room, trying to keep the scene from imploding. A young woman in scrubs who must be Ellie's sister is sitting in an old armchair, her face buried in her hands. Ellie lingers in the doorway, looking back at me nervously. And there, reclined on a well-loved sofa, is the man who must be Ellie’s father.

  His look of unwarranted superiority ignites my already simmering contempt for him. He’s just the kind of presumptuous, holier-than-thou, entitled asshole I really can’t stand. I can tell, just by the way he holds himself, that he’s exactly like my own father—king of the household, supreme arbiter of the family’s lives, God in his own right (or at least in his own eyes).