She asked, “So…breakfast in or out?”
Chris chimed in. “I want pana-cakes.”
Val ran her fingers through her child’s hair, grinning. “With maple syrup?”
“No. Boo-berry.”
“Well…” She looked over at Brad. “Does Daddy Brad have all that stuff?”
“Nope. I think we’ll have to go out for boo-berry.”
“I get my shoes,” Chris said. He slid off the bed and ran back to his room.
No better time than the present. Brad slid over to Val and kissed her. “So…we’re getting the little guy pancakes. What’re we gettin’ his mama?”
“A cup of decaf, I think.”
“Is that all?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Uh…there’s something else I think you should get.”
She grinned. “And what would that be?”
She’d fallen for it. He rolled over and opened his nightstand drawer to pull out the little box from the jeweler. “Close your eyes.”
“Do you have hash browns over there?”
“Close your eyes, Val.” When she did, he opened the box and took out the ring. The woman at the jeweler’s had promised that any woman would love that ring—it was simple but stunning, she’d assured him. He took her left hand and held it by her ring finger. They’d only talked about it once and she’d dismissed him because she’d thought at the time that Ethan would never give her a divorce. She’d told Brad it didn’t matter, that she was married to him in her heart. That told him all he’d needed to hear. “Will you marry me, Valerie Quinn?”
She opened her eyes, stunned at first. She took in a breath and then smiled. She looked up at him and stroked his cheek, then kissed him. “Yes, yes, I will, Brad Payne. I will marry you.”
He slid the ring over her finger just as Chris bounded back in the room. He set his shoes on the bed and climbed up. Brad almost laughed because he was still wearing his pajamas. He didn’t know that he’d ever felt this happy in his life, and Chris was a part of that joy.
Chris grabbed his shoes and finished making his way to Val’s side. Instead of asking her to help him, though, he touched her cheek. “Why are you crying, mommy?”
“Because, I think, my life is finally perfect.” Brad touched her belly, and Chris smiled, placing his hand on top of Brad’s. “No, I take it back, sweetie. I don’t think. I know my life is perfect.”
Brad leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Fuck it. Let’s get dressed. We’re gonna have breakfast and then we’re gonna go to the Justice of the Peace.”
“What?”
“Why not?” He could tell she was giving it a lot of thought. She wasn’t sure. He would give in—if she wanted another big wedding, hell, yeah, he’d do it for her, but he didn’t give a shit. She was already his girl. He’d seen it in her eyes the moment she’d said I will. That was enough for him. That would last forever.
Epilogue
ETHAN HAD RECOMMITTED to Fully Automatic, and the band’s third album exceeded everyone’s expectations. It was amazing.
And the baby…little Hayley Marie. God, she was his pride and joy. A beautiful baby and more than he could have ever asked for.
For all the joy Val had brought to his life, he needed to repay her. He managed to convince her that his plan for her was brilliant.
And that was why they were here now, performing in front of a sold out crowd in San Antonio. Val was at the helm, and they’d just finished a kick ass song.
She was the front woman of a new band called Val Hella. She was back. Most Fully Automatic fans didn’t know her from the girl next door, but they knew Brad and they knew Nick. After Fully Automatic’s third album, the four guys announced they wanted to branch out into side projects. Fully Automatic remained intact and they would release another album in a couple of years, but they wanted to pursue other projects. That was good, because Ethan and Zane wanted to go completely death metal, something Brad had resisted. They wanted a side band so they could unleash the darker, heavier pieces Ethan had been writing, and Brad was convinced it was fueled by the demons Ethan was finally learning to let go. It was a good thing for his brother.
And it gave him the perfect opportunity to get Val on her feet. He’d barely gotten the words out of his mouth when Nick said, “Hell, yeah.”
Brad knew it was because the guy liked the idea of playing percussion with a female bassist.
The three of them auditioned lots of women before settling on one who seemed the perfect fit.
Watching Val tonight—the third night on tour—made him realize it was the smartest move he’d made since proposing to her. Her voice was in fine form. The surgery had changed her singing voice a little—it sounded more mature, deeper, throatier, but he knew too that part of that was due to the music lessons she’d invested in. She didn’t want to lose her voice again, and so she was doing all she could to ensure its health.
She’d also learned guitar big time, and she was playing rhythm to his lead. It made her sexier than ever to him.
She yelled into the mike, “San Antonio! How we doin’ tonight?”
The response was amazing. He knew most of the fans were there for the headliners—Last Five Seconds—but they had accepted Val’s band with open arms.
She really did belong up there. She knew how to work a crowd and they were eating her up. “You guys might know this tune. Fully Automatic plays it on tour, but they’ve never recorded it. I used to sing this back in the day, and it’s one of my favorite songs. So here you go—‘Metal Forever’.” Brad had never had the heart to record it when their label had rejected the one song Val had sung for the demo, but he’d always loved it and couldn’t resist playing it on tour. He convinced Val to put it on her band’s first album.
She looked over at Brad and he smiled. He loved hearing her sing the words, because he’d long considered “Metal Forever” her theme song. Nick cued them up and they started.
She was beyond beautiful. The lights beamed down on her as she leaned into the mike, and she was vibrant, fully alive. He knew too that the same light in her eyes would be shining later that evening when they met up with the nanny and their kids after the show, but for now, her job was entertaining thousands of people—doing something she was born to do.
The fine people of San Antonio might not have known that “Metal Forever” was actually Val’s song, but they loved it, and it was so good hearing her sing it again. It summed up all she was.
At the end of the song, Brad spoke into his mike—in place for singing back up. “God, I love this woman.”
As he walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek, the screams from the audience ensured him that they too loved her…almost as much as he did.
Christmas Stalkings
A Novella
Chapter One
I LOOKED OVER at the man who was the love of my life. I might not have thought of him that way when I’d first met him, but I hadn’t appreciated what had always been in front of me. Nowadays, I was fully aware and grateful every single day.
Brad glanced over and smiled at me, almost as though he could read my thoughts, before turning his eyes back to the road.
“What’s next, mommy?”
I turned in the seat to look behind me—sweet Chris, my little boy who was slowly creeping close to school age, and Hayley, his baby sister, sat in two cars seats just behind us. We’d been singing Christmas songs on our journey up I-70 toward Beaver Creek, Colorado, where we were going to spend a mini Christmas vacation—just the four of us.
“How about ‘Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer’?”
Chris smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah!” He started singing, and Brad and I joined in. Hayley was mouthing syllables, smiling and giggling, focusing mostly on her brother. I sang but truthfully was lost in thought.
The past year had been a whirlwind. Somehow, Brad knew I’d been feeling restless and needed something more than motherhood to feel fulfilled. He’d tal
ked with his record company and then brought the idea to me—what if I had my own band, started over in the music business? I felt a little unsure. After all, Fully Automatic had been a band before I’d joined them. I didn’t know how sure I felt about starting one on my own. But then he told me that he and Nick would be part of my band too as a side project, and I was sold. So we started off by writing songs and then we auditioned for bassists and found a woman who fit the bill. It was no time at all that we were in the studio recording some of the best songs I’d ever written. We would start touring in less than two months, but we’d just wrapped on our second video and felt like we were almost ready. We simply had to get through the holidays.
Christmas was going to be a cluster this year. Besides needing to spend time with Brad’s dad and then his mom (my parents, we were just going to see in January), Ethan would have Chris for Christmas Day through New Year’s this particular year, so Brad suggested that just he and I and the kids spend time together for several days before Christmas, so we could relax, enjoy each other’s company, and pretend it was the holidays.
“It’ll be our Christmas,” he’d said.
After the past month’s activities, it didn’t take much to convince me. Not only had things been hectic, but it hadn’t taken me long to attract interested male fans. Yeah, Fully Automatic fans knew who I was, had seen pictures (not to mention the old Colorado fans who knew me as the original vocalist of the band), but to see me in action was a completely different thing. Already I had weirdos on Facebook and Twitter getting overly friendly, sending me provocative pictures and suggestive messages.
The entire world knew I was married, had seen the hunk who was my husband, and these crazy guys thought I might somehow be interested in them? I found it laughable…at first. But one guy had been starting to really creep me out, and I think that was the final straw for Brad deciding maybe we needed to get out of town for a while.
We already had bodyguards for when we’d go on tour and for special occasions where we’d be in the public eye, but we didn’t have them day in and day out. I found it intrusive and unnecessary… but I was beginning to rethink that.
Yeah, I hadn’t told Brad, but this whole thing had me rattled. It started with one guy who continually messaged me on Facebook. The first single and video of my band Val Hella had been rather provocative and suggestive (a little number called “Show Me What You Can Do to Me”) and apparently it had incited a few lustful feelings in the fella. These idiots apparently didn’t realize I was writing about Brad’s tongue on my neck, my fingers digging into his back. Well, this guy’s adoration was nice and all, but I couldn’t be the object of his affection, and I told him so. He then proceeded to play on my sympathy, telling me that he’d been let go from his job of fifteen years because of an injury that the employer themselves had caused and he was trying to fight it. In the meantime, he wondered if maybe I, with my fame, could shed some light on his problem, maybe write a song about it?
Um…no. I tried to be nice at first, finally telling him he should write his own song about it, that my songs naturally came from my heart—my own experiences and emotions—and I couldn’t fully connect with the subject. He seemed to get a little huffy and then quieted down for a while. When I thought he had finally disappeared, he then began posting to my wall publicly, saying suggestive things about my songs. Trying to connect with real fans, I posted a link to the video on YouTube and he said, “Oh, I’ll show you what I can do.” I ignored it, hoping he’d go away. He’d seemed quiet for a couple of weeks but then started messaging again.
Jesus, guy, why don’t you just whack off to my picture like I’m sure other guys do and keep your comments to yourself?
Yeah…there were the guys who sent pictures of their cocks, promising me a lifetime of pleasure. Other guys asked me to check out the pics on their personal pages, ones that showed them in their glory days of music that they’d long since abandoned.
Some guys just made a virtual pass once or twice and then gave up.
Oh, then there was the Twitter guy. He kept professing his love for me in one-hundred-forty characters and less—in French. He began tweeting pictures of himself—naked from the waist up—with little lines of love.
Truly creepy.
A couple of weeks ago was when the shit really hit the fan. I had no proof, but I was pretty sure it was sad sack Facebook guy or love-you-lots Twitter guy, but who knew? It could have been one of the random cock flasher guys. Whoever it was, one thing was clear—I had a stalker, and this person knew way too much about me for comfort.
Someone was leaving creepy notes on my car’s windshield when I was out and about. I’d go out to lunch with a friend and come back out to my car…and there it would be. Of course, it never happened in places where there were security cameras.
The one that gave me shivers up my spine was the one in our mailbox.
Brad nearly lost his mind over that one. We hadn’t even lived in our new home for a full year, and he was talking about moving to a more secure neighborhood, putting our entire property under lock and key and watchful cameras. I argued, wanting our kids to grow up having as normal a life as possible.
He countered by asking me if I thought Fully Automatic and Val Hella were normal.
I agreed, for the time being, to get the law involved. So we told the cops, who suggested a bodyguard. I shrugged it off at first, but Brad asked me to give it more thought. For the kids, he said. The police checked out my social media, but without something more concrete to go on to find out who was leaving me the weird notes on my car when I was out and about, they couldn’t do much.
Yes, they even checked the notes for fingerprints. Nothing.
So, between the stalker bullshit and the stress of gearing up and getting ready to go on tour early the next year—not to mention the pressure of the holidays—Brad made an executive decision. I didn’t know how he was able to get a room in the heart of the ski season, but I was sure he merely had to be the highest bidder. I didn’t even want to know how much money he’d dropped for the place.
I was excited. I’d been to Vail but never to Beaver Creek. As a Colorado native, I loved snow. I looked forward to winter every year and mourned when it left. Chris reminded me a lot of how I’d been as a kid, eager to play in the snow and get wet, finally giving up and coming in when he’d gotten cold to the bone. So when Brad and I told him about our trip, he was excited beyond words. He wanted to talk to his real daddy to tell him the good news.
Ethan…I could talk to him again finally without feeling like I was going to spit nails. I’d found a way to forgive him, and what helped the most was the fact that he’d finally gotten his shit together. He quit using, stopped drinking, and was trying to stay on the straight and narrow. I credited his girlfriend Jenna with a lot of that. They’d just had a baby too. I didn’t think a baby would help, but the fact that Ethan remained sober after the baby came told me his reformation was going to stick this time. So, even though I’d miss Chris at Christmas, I wouldn’t worry about him like I would have a couple of years earlier, and I now knew Ethan loved his son and they deserved to spend time together.
“What now, mommy?” Chris asked.
I frowned. I’d lost track of singing, once again too absorbed in my own thoughts. I turned and smiled. “How about ‘Jingle Bells’?”
“Yeah,” my son responded and began singing before Brad and I could join in. His enthusiasm was infectious. When he got to “one-horse open sleigh,” he exaggerated the punch, almost shouting, but he also punctuated it by ramming his head forward. It brought a gleeful squeal from Hayley, the child who already worshipped the ground her big brother walked on.
And that was enough to get Gracie, the kids’ nanny, to sit up from the seat at the back of the van. The girl hadn’t said anything, but the night before had been a night off, and I suspected she’d engaged in more partying than she should have. She told me bashfully that she hadn’t slept well the night before, but I thought sh
e might have been experiencing a bit of a hangover. I wasn’t going to say a word. I’d had a few a time or two myself. It came with the territory of being in a band.
She’d been sleeping in the back for the trip up I-70 so she could be more attentive to the kids once we got there. We hadn’t planned on bringing her along, but Brad convinced me for more than one reason. First, he said, Gracie would no doubt love the resort. Why should we only take her along for heavy duty? And, second, if he and I decided last minute to go skiing (I’d told him I had no interest), we had someone we trusted to leave the kids with. My husband, always sensible.
Gracie had been thrilled with the idea. Just as Brad had thought, she’d never been to a ski resort, not like Beaver Creek, anyway. She’d had plans for her birthday for the night before, though, and I thought the poor girl was paying for it. She’d been the only nanny the kids had ever had, and she’d been with us since March, but I couldn’t imagine not having her in our lives anymore. My children adored her.
She asked, “How close are we?”
“We’re driving through Vail now,” Brad said, “so not long at all.”
Gracie stretched. “Might as well stay up then.”
We hadn’t told her about my creepy stalker yet, but I wanted to tell her once we settled in. She might have observed things we would need to pass on to law enforcement or, if nothing else, she might see things in the future that would be important. Whatever the case, she needed to be let in on it.
Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8 Page 134