by Ally Vance
Asher follows me and tugs my arm. Turning me to face him, he sweeps my hair out of my face. “You won’t bother me. I sleep like the dead.”
“Still…” I step out of his hold. “I’d prefer to be alone.”
His jaw ticks, and he runs a hand through his hair. “This is un-fucking-believable, Raine. You can’t keep fucking doing this. I’m not a fucking booty call.”
I rub my sternum, hating the pain and frustration I see in Asher’s eyes. “Ash, I can’t deal with this tonight. I know I’ve been crazy lately, but I’ll make it up to you. I just can’t tonight.”
A storm brews in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. He just turns and walks into my room to gather his overnight bag. He still doesn’t have a drawer here—like I said, I’m not great with committing to commitment.
When he comes out, he’s dressed in jeans and a navy-blue hoodie. He walks over to where I’ve been standing since he left the room and kisses me on the temple. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. I just need tonight to collect my thoughts.
The door clicks shut, and I blow out a relieved breath. Finally, I can let the mask slip.
Chapter Two
Dale beams at me as I thrash out the last few beats of the song, and I grin back at him. Dale has been our regular lead dancer since we formed our band five years ago, and he’s been true to his word. Nothing changed between us, except we no longer use each other’s bodies to escape our tortured minds. I always felt guilty for my mental struggle with what happened on the farm. Even though it was messed up beyond comprehension, it was nothing compared to what Asher and Dale went through. Still, I found myself struggling to come to terms with how fucked up I was after they took me away from Samuel and my sisters, and how I hated everyone for freeing me from the farm.
Phoenix throws her guitar pick out to the empty stadium, causing a genuine laugh to rip free from my throat. All the tension from the last couple of weeks slips away as I forget about Bianca and her threats to focus on being in a space I love with the people I love. It’s our final soundcheck before the show tonight, and she sure as shit is taking things seriously. I still can’t believe we’re playing at Madison Square Garden. Just a couple of years ago we were living in a vermin-infested apartment on the outskirts of Boston, playing in every seedy bar in Roxbury, and spending more time fighting off drunk losers who wanted to fuck “cool rocker chicks,” as they called us, than actually playing our music.
But it all paid off. Phoenix found us a gig at a bowling alley in San Pedro. At first, I thought she was nuts setting us up to play a gig three thousand miles from home, in a bowling alley of all places, but she said the owner knew Kade Tennick of LP-45 and had it on good authority he’d be there. He was, and was so impressed that he spoke to the producers of Breakout—the reality TV show he was a judge on—and the next thing we knew, we were signing with DMW.
It’s been a rollercoaster ever since, and I was just beginning to believe things were looking up when the letters started arriving. The first was when we announced our tour. The next came a couple of months after that, and for the last two weeks, they’ve been arriving in a steady stream.
Dale runs across the stage and scoops me up in his arms. Twirling me around, he narrowly misses knocking my legs into my drum kit, but his hazel eyes are shining so bright my protests die on my lips.
“Holy fucking saints, Raine! You gave me goosebumps with that last drum solo.”
Shiloh looks back at me from her position on the stage—front and center where she deserves to be. Her voice always gives me chills. “Yeah, and damn, girl. When you changed up the harmony on the last chorus, I felt tears sting the back of my throat. You shouldn’t be hidden behind those drums like that.”
I laugh. “I’m fine right where I am, thank you very much.”
And I am. As much as I love the attention, being behind my drums is where I belong.
“Can we just talk about how sizzling Dale and Shiloh were?” Cat slips her guitar off her shoulder, her red tresses getting caught in the strap, and she tugs them loose. “Holy fuck, you two, I’m more than a little wet over here.” The dancers all start clapping and whistling at Cat’s references to the bit in the middle of the last song where Dale and Shiloh do a really provocative dance. She lets out a throaty laugh. “See? They all agree.”
Dale places me back on my feet and laughing, shoots Cat a wink. “Yeah? Exactly how wet are we talking?”
“Enough, you two,” I tease, but the pang of jealousy I get whenever these two kid around hits so hard this time the laugh sounds weird. “Remember the ‘no fraternization’ clause.” I poke him in the ribs with one of the sticks I’m still holding.
Dale yelps in mock-protest and takes a step back.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve already taken a ride on that rodeo.” Cat’s eyes rove over Dale’s shirtless body, gleaming with sweat, and she bites her lip. Dale is ripped in that lean way that comes from physical activity more than hitting the gym for two hours a day. His shoulders are broad, arms defined from hours and hours of dancing and lifting performers onstage. His rock-hard six-pack trails down to his tapered waist, and his sweats hide a cock that at times I still ache for, as well as an ass you can bounce a racquetball off.
I still love him. Always will, but he isn’t safe.
Well, that’s not entirely true. No one is more safe with anybody than they are with Dale—I trust him with my life. But I can’t love him the way I do.
I can’t give into that.
“Yeah, what she said,” Dale smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and I don’t want to contemplate why.
“That was long before we worked together.” I try to keep my tone light.
The dancers start stretching out, and Phoenix places her bass guitar on the stand to the side of the stage before sweeping her long curly hair into a ponytail. I notice Anton, our security guy, taking her in from the side of the stage, and cover a smile with my tattooed hand. With her mocha-colored skin and green eyes, Phoenix is a lethal combination, but the poor guy doesn’t stand a chance. Phoenix is more into playing with fire, and as cute as Anton is, he doesn’t come close to being on her radar.
“I’m off to meditate before hair and makeup. Good show, guys,” Phoenix says.
Everyone starts dispersing as Dale turns to me, pulling on his shirt and covering his sweat-soaked torso. “I meant what I said earlier, Raine. You killed it during the rehearsal. I mean you’re always incredible, but it was like something was different today. What’s your secret?”
Death threats. They’ll do that to you. The fear fuels many fires…
“The luck of the draw, I guess.” I shrug off his compliment. “You, on the other hand, cracked a nod from Cat. That’s a definite feather in your cap.” I wink, even though the green-eyed monster is back with a bang.
“Shiloh is great fun.”
Not what I wanna hear, but hey.
“You thinking of hitting that?” Please say no. Please say no.
I know this train of thought isn’t fair. After all, I’m fucking Asher. But I love Dale, even if I shouldn’t, and the idea of him with any one of my bandmates eats at me. I know Dale isn’t celibate, I just don’t want it rubbed in my face.
Yeah, I’m a hypocrite, I know.
Dale smirks. “Nah, I’m not one to shit on my doorstep.”
Relief washes over me as I nod.
“Special delivery,” Asher’s voice calls from one of the side entrances, and Dale and I both turn in his direction.
He’s carrying a giant black gift basket wrapped in cellophane with a turquoise bow—my two favorite colors. He’s dressed in black jeans and a combat jacket over a red tee, his smile is wide, and there’s no indication he’s feeling frustrated over last night.
I place my sticks on the drum and make my way to the edge of the stage. He places the basket on the floor and holds his arms out to me. “Jump”
; I don’t think twice, leaping off the stage into Asher’s arms, knowing he’ll never let me fall. He never has.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I murmur into his neck.
“Nothing to be sorry for, baby. I’m sorry I was a dick about it.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I repeat his words back to him. It’s always this way with Asher. We’re like popping candy. Small bursts of frustration that fizzle immediately. “How about we go backstage, and I make it up to you anyway?” I nip his earlobe. Part guilt for my earlier thoughts about Dale and part remorse for how I treated him last night—there’s no excuse for that, even if I was acting out of fear. I feel his dick stir beneath me and lean back to look in his eyes, a question in mine.
Dale also jumps off the stage, and I don’t miss the wince, however brief, that flickers across his face when he hears me proposition Asher. I hadn’t realized he’d followed me, and a flash of guilt hits me in the gut. Only a few short moments ago, I was thinking about how much it would suck to see Dale with one of my bandmates, and here he has to swallow the fact that Asher and I are together every day.
Asher lowers me to my feet. “Fuck yeah, but first open your gift. I see some candy corn in there and need some of that in my belly.”
“I second that. Give me some.” Just like before, Dale’s tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent of tension there, which Asher seems oblivious to.
Seeing my name on the card under the cellophane I ask, “Who’s it from?”
Asher shrugs. “Fuck if I know.”
I start peeling the bow off gently, careful not to tear anything.
“Is this gonna take long?” Asher teases.
“Here, let me help.” Dale tears open the package.
I punch him on the shoulder. “That’s mine, Brat.”
Eventually, we get to the card with my name written in calligraphy with turquoise sharpie.
I open the card, and immediately, my blood freezes in my veins.
Inside the card is a picture of Asher going down on me last night. My nails are digging into his scalp. The word LUST is emblazoned on the picture and on the inside of the card in the same script as my name: “Last chance to right your wrongs. To repent your sins. To seek forgiveness.”
I drop the card to the floor as if it burnt me.
Dale is immediately at my side. “Raine, what is it?”
Asher bends to pick up the card. “What the fuck?”
Dale looks down at the photo and immediately pales. “Jesus.”
Asher crumples the card. “What the fuck is this?”
I sit down on the cold arena floor and wrap my arms around myself. I’m wearing yoga pants and a tee, perfect for being under the stage lights but not really fall attire. Asher hands the card to Dale and shrugs his jacket off before placing it around my shoulders.
“We have to call the cops.”
“No!” I yell. “No police. I know who it is.”
“Who?” Dale asks, turning the photo over so he doesn’t have to see the image anymore.
“It’s Bianca.”
“Bianca from the farm?”
I nod. “Yes, this isn’t the first letter she’s sent me. In fact, there have been seven. One for each of my sins.”
“What the fuck, Raine? Why am I only hearing about this now?” Asher’s tone is sharp.
“Because I didn’t want you to cancel the show.” I look up at him with pleading eyes. He’s been our tour manager since we made it big, and I don’t want him to take this from me.
“She’s fucking threatening you. We have to call off the show,” Asher says, his voice softer this time. “And call the cops.”
“Absolutely not.” I look from Dale to Asher. “Please, no. Bianca is just blowing off steam. Canceling tonight would kill the girls.”
“Raine, you mean more to them than the fucking show.”
“I don’t care. I won’t take this from them.”
“Where are the other letters?” Dale asks, lifting the cap he has perched backward on his head and placing it back the right way.
I stand and walk to the edge of the stage and retrieve the book from my tote. I stuffed it in there this morning on the off chance Bianca would somehow get into my apartment again and remove the evidence. Plus, I was going to tell the guys after the show. Once I could prove to them Bianca’s threats were empty.
I hand the book to Asher, and Dale moves to stand behind him so he can view the photos from over his cousin’s shoulder. With each image they look at, Asher gets more tense, and Dale turns a sickly gray.
“You should’ve come to us,” Dale states.
“She’s taking pics of us together, Raine. That’s fucked up.” Asher takes his phone out of his jeans pocket and starts dialing. 9…1…
I place a hand over his. “Please, baby. If you never do another thing for me, let me have this show.”
The guys look at each other. Silent words pass between them.
“All right. I’ll hold off on calling the cops. But we’re telling the girls. If you can convince them to do the show, we’ll do the show.”
I nod. At least I have a chance.
Chapter Three
Sitting next to Asher on the way home, I can’t stop the smile stretching across my face, and I wouldn’t want to. Asher was right, the girls loved me more than they did the show, and it took a hell of a lot of convincing to get them to perform. But, eventually—after a lot of begging and the promise of more security—they all agreed to go on with the concert. We smashed it, putting everything we had into our performance as if it were our last.
Thankfully, it wasn’t, and I was right about Bianca. She was way more bark than bite. I reach for my bag to retrieve my phone so I can message the girls to gush again—a reaction completely foreign to me, but warranted under the circumstances. When I don’t find it in my tote, or my pockets, I realize I must’ve forgotten my phone in the greenroom.
“Shit!”
“What is it?” Asher squeezes my leg.
“I left my phone at the arena.”
“Damn.” He hands me his. “Text Dale and ask him to get it for you. I asked him to stay behind to make sure the cleanup goes okay.”
I shoot Dale a text, and five minutes later, he sends me a goofy selfie of him licking my screen.
ME: EWWWW, Dale. You’re disgusting.
D: Don’t leave your phone lying around.
ME: Do you know phones are more unsanitary than bathroom floors?
D: Good to know in case I want to lick a bathroom floor.
ME: You’re so wrong.
D: Baby, you know I’m all kinds of right.
I stare at the screen, trying hard not to read into Dale calling me baby for the first time since that night at the barn. We’re careful not to flirt with each other. It’s so easy to fall down the rabbit hole again.
“I want to take you somewhere. Is that okay?” Asher’s voice breaks through the silence.
I blank the screen, feeling guilty over something I haven’t done, and turn to face him. “Where are we gonna go in the middle of the night?”
“There’s this great little all-night diner about forty-five minutes’ drive from here, and they sell the best peanut butter milkshakes in the world. But that’s not where I want to take you.” He reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips. “Raine, you inspired me tonight. I know I gave you shit about going to the cops, but fuck, baby, seeing you on stage, performing the best I’ve ever seen you with a crazy person on the loose and threatening you made me so fucking proud. It also inspired me to face some of my own demons. I want you to go with me to my uncle’s place.” His throat works a giant swallow, and he flicks his eyes to mine briefly before turning back to the road. That brief glance was enough, though, to show me he is feeling really uncertain.
I push the apprehension down. I have no idea if this is a good idea or not, but he was there for me today. It’s time to repay the favor.
“If you’re sure, I’d love to
go with you.”
Asher’s answering smile lets me know I made the right choice.
I find myself growing more nervous, the closer we get to the house. God, what if I can’t do it? What if I have a breakdown instead of being strong for him? We may both be broken and damaged, but I was a willing participant in everything that happened to me at the farm, even if I know now I was brainwashed. Asher and Dale were not so lucky. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to be in a room where he was forced to do so many unspeakable things.
“You okay?” Asher squeezes my hand. “We don’t have to do this if you feel uncomfortable. You can stay in the car.”
Now I feel like crap. This isn’t my trauma. I should be the one supporting Asher. I take a deep breath. “I should be asking you that.”
He smiles, and it’s a sweeter smile than I’ve ever seen from him. “Sometimes watching someone you love hurting is harder than being in pain yourself.”
I lean over the seat and press my lips to his. “Let’s do this. I’m here for you.”
Asher gets out of the car and shuts the door. The frigid wind whips my hair into my face, and I’m glad I changed into sweats and a hoodie after the show. He fists his keys in one hand and holds out the other for mine. He doesn’t step toward the house immediately; instead, we both take in the grounds that have been really well kept for a property where the owners are in prison.
“Does someone take care of this place? I expected it to be rundown.”
Asher frowns and leads me to the house. “Yeah, my uncle still runs his lily business from prison. He has a guy maintaining the grounds.”
I don’t ask him how he knows all this stuff because we’re climbing the porch steps, and my heart is kicking against my ribcage. Asher inserts a key into the corroded brass knob and unlocks the old oak door. Pushing it open, the squeaking hinges protest.