Toad

by Cambria Hebert

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now!” I snapped.

  “Watch your tone.” He warned.

  I shoved my hand through my hair. “I never said I was dropping out of college, Dad. I said I got an opportunity in L.A. I have a meeting on Monday. I’m coming back. I know how important it is to finish my degree.” Important to you, not so much to me.

  “Spring break doesn’t start ‘til Thursday,” he pointed out.

  “So I’m going to miss a couple classes. I already talked to my professors. It’s cool. I’ll make sure I’m caught up.”

  “Your education and honoring the commitment you made to Blaylock is important.” Spoken like a true father… with a gigantic stick up his ass.

  “Relax, Dad. It’s not like I’m TP-ing the school and going to jail in my hoodie.” I pointed to the university hoodie I was currently dressed in. “Think how good it will look if one of your students makes it big in the music industry. It will make your music department even more prestigious.”

  He didn’t say anything. I didn’t figure he would. He didn’t seem impressed at all by the extra recognition the music department at Blaylock University was getting because Ten composed most of his upcoming album there.

  “I’m going,” I said, final.

  His displeasure permeated the room and stunk like a dead body. “I figured.”

  He knew he couldn’t stop me. I was twenty-one years old. I might live at home still, but legally, I was an adult.

  “Well, thanks for the support,” I said, gruff and oddly hurt. I wasn’t about to show that, though. “I’ll be back before spring break is over, and I’ll tell Ten you said hi.”

  I grabbed up my bag and flung it over my shoulder. Dad was still standing there drinking his coffee, watching me.

  I started toward the door, the tightness in my chest not easing at all.

  “Son?”

  I stopped, but didn’t turn back.

  “Call me when the plane lands.”

  The side of my mouth kicked up in a smile he couldn’t see. Pissed or not about my choices, he was still gonna worry about me. Knowing that took away a lot of my anger.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Will do.”

  I headed out in the driveway toward my old Ford Focus and threw my bag in the hatch before sliding behind the wheel.

  I wasn’t quite sure why he was so against me following my dream, but he made it crystal clear going to L.A. was not something he approved of.

  I never really defied my dad. Ever.

  I guess I’d never wanted anything bad enough.

  But now I did.

  “Are you okay?” Violet asked.

  I paused midway through shutting off the engine, then continued, snatching the keys out of the ignition and turning toward her. “We’re taking off for sunny L.A. No more cold weather or classes for a week. Of course I’m okay!”

  She gave me a look that said she’d been friends with me long enough that she knew better.

  Girls. They always knew, didn’t they? Even when they didn’t know, they knew.

  “Derek wasn’t happy about the trip, was he?” she asked, quiet.

  The sun was already sinking in the sky, making the air outside feel even cooler. Her blue eyes held a note of understanding that made me slightly uncomfortable. It was kinda crazy how fast we grew close. Besides Ten, I would say Violet was my best friend. One day she was just a girl Ten had a boner for, and the next, she was a permanent fixture in his life… and mine.

  Sure, Ten asked me to watch out for her when he wasn’t around—he was beyond overprotective—but I hung out with her because I liked her. Violet was pretty cool.

  I sighed. “He definitely wasn’t giving me the warm and fuzzy feeling when I left.”

  She nodded. “Between you and me, I think it bothers Stark a lot more than he lets on.”

  “That my dad doesn’t want me to come to L.A.?”

  She laughed and shoved my arm. “No, that Derek isn’t as supportive of Stark’s career as he hoped.”

  “He hasn’t said anything to me.”

  Violet smiled, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Me, either.”

  See? She just, like, knew stuff.

  “My dad will get over it,” I replied, shoving open the door, allowing cold air to rush inside.

  “And if he doesn’t?” she asked, leaning over the center console to look at me through the open door.

  My chest tightened, reminding me of how I’d felt when I left the house. Girls talked too much.

  “He will.” I slammed the car door and opened the hatch.

  Violet ran around the back of the car, ducking beside me and blowing on her bare fingers.

  I frowned. “Where’s your gloves?”

  “We’re flying to L.A. I’m not bringing gloves.”

  I shrugged and grabbed up both our bags.

  “I’ll take mine.”

  I ignored her and motioned to the hatch. “Close that for me.” Then I continued toward the plane that sat near the hangar I’d parked beside.

  “I can carry my own bag,” Violet said, rushing to catch up. I noticed her carrying the small backpack she always had with her and nodded toward it.

  “You have one.”

  “You and Stark act like I’m an invalid.”

  “Do not,” I shot back.

  “Do so.”

  Truth was we knew she wasn’t an invalid. But yeah, maybe we were a little more eager to do stuff for her because of her rheumatoid arthritis. It was only because we cared.

  The set of stairs was already folded out for us to board. Movement at the top of the steps caught my attention, but I was slower to look up because I figured it was just the pilot.

  Beside me, Violet gasped. “Stark!”

  Violet didn’t call my cousin by his first name. She called him by his last name (long story).

  It was as though our argument hadn’t even happened. One minute she was telling me she wanted to carry her own crap, and the next, she was tossing that backpack of hers at me.

  “I’m pretty sure that doesn’t go there!” I announced even as she hung it around my neck.

  “Did you know he was coming?” she exclaimed, her eyes bright.

  “There’s my girl,” Stark called from the doorway of the plane.

  She made a sound of impatience and darted away.

  “Be careful!” he scolded her.

  Violet’s laugh floated behind her as she fumbled up the stairs in her Adidas.

  “Next time you want to carry your own bag, I’m going to remind you of this!” I yelled behind her. “She better tip me,” I griped as I kept walking.

  At the top of the stairs, Violet launched herself at Stark, and the pair fell backward, disappearing out of the doorway.

  This was going to be a long flight.

  I heard him laughing inside. When I reached the top, his hand shot out and relieved me of Violet’s bag.

  “You’re spoiling her, man,” I told Ten. “She thinks I’m her personal valet!”

  “Do not!” Violet rebutted.

  I pointed to the backpack hanging around my neck. “This isn’t a fashion statement.”

  We had a good brother-sister relationship happening. I liked to help foster that along by arguing with her.

  Ten pulled it over my head and tossed it on a nearby bench seat along one side of the plane. It looked like a cream-colored leather couch. Soon as I was relieved of all the baggage, Violet filled his arms again, and he grinned at me from over her shoulder, holding out his fist. I pounded it out and then went toward a table with some chairs around it.

  “You called from the plane,” I mused.

  “Like I’d sit at home and let my girl fly out to L.A. without me.”

  “What am I, chopped liver?” I scoffed.

  “Of course not,” Violet replied instantly. Then she turned to Ten. “No security this trip?”

  “They’ll meet us at the strip when we land. It’s family time now
.”

  Partway through the flight, Violet fell asleep in Ten’s lap, and I was staring out into the dark sky.

  “How bad was it?” Ten asked.

  I knew he was talking about my dad.

  “Could’ve been worse.”

  After a few moments of silence, Ten’s voice reached across the plane once more. “Is this what you want?”

  I looked at him then. His gaze was steady. The point-blank question sort of caught me off guard. I hadn’t really thought about it like that. Black and white. Probably because it wasn’t just black and white, but I appreciated the perspective Ten brought in that moment.

  Songwriting was my dream. But was this what I wanted? Reaching for it despite my father’s strong reservations—the man who had always been there for me?

  I rummaged deep down in my gut. Past the place where the Fruity Pebbles and corndogs went. Past the sarcasm and the jokes.

  I swallowed before replying. My cousin didn’t rush me or interpret my silence as indecision. That was the thing about Ten, the thing I think my dad never quite realized.

  Ten’s fame didn’t ruin his life. Or the man he could have been. It could have. If he’d let it.

  The business he chose (or the one that chose him) didn’t define him. He defined it. And all the struggle to get to where he was right now, with a sleeping blonde in his lap, shaped him. Made him stronger.

  “Yes,” was all I said, despite all the words working through my head.

  Ten nodded. “Then we’ll work it out. Uncle Derek will come around.”

  I glanced back out the small window.

  I sure hoped he was right.

  Aerie

  Solberg Records was in the heart of Los Angeles. It was a tall building shaped like a cylinder made almost entirely of windows. The very top of the building boasted the family name in massive illuminated letters.

  Rolland Solberg liked to make his presence known. And so did his son.

  After the black SUV with excessively tinted windows stopped near the entrance, I was escorted into the building by my bodyguards. The press was staked outside, likely hoping for a glimpse of me. Or my darling husband Will.

  It was almost enough to keep me away. Giving these vultures anything they salivated for was pretty much worse than death these days. At least in death, I’d be away from all their dramatic lies.

  Actually, wait.

  There was something worse than death—remaining married to Will.

  I know. I know. I married him. Before that, I dated him. For too long.

  I have an explanation. One I never gave. People would just call it an excuse.

  Anyhow, that was why I was here, keeping my head down, avoiding the paparazzi and taking comfort in the fact my bodyguards were trying to shield me. Sometimes it cut me like a well-sharpened knife that the only true shielding I ever got was from paid employees.

  We whisked through the building, securing an empty elevator, and as soon as the doors slid closed, I hunched in on myself just a little. The reprieve lasted all of two seconds, and then I was back to wearing my armor and holding my chin high.

  Here, all the high-powered execs had their own receptionist, not just one for the entire floor. To me, it was just another way Rolland Solberg liked to show superiority. I had to hand it to him on the business side, though. Presenting the allusion his execs were all so busy they needed their own assistant sure made his business look booming.

  Will had a corner office (like that surprises you), and the second his assistant (who was no more than twenty-one, with a boob job, lip injections, and head full of fake hair) saw me, she lurched to her feet.

  “Mrs. Solberg!” she said, and my stomach literally lurched. “Will didn’t tell me you were stopping by.”

  I gave her a glare out of the corners of my eyes as I swept by. “I wasn’t aware I needed an appointment to see my husband.” I enunciated the word, reminding her I was the one in charge here. I didn’t bother telling her what I thought of the fact she was calling him by his first name.

  Wasn’t that cozy?

  “I’ll just tell him—” She began, as if she had the power to stop me.

  I hesitated long enough that the clipping of my heels over the polished floor paused and silence fell around me like snow. The dark strands of my sleekly blown-out hair whipped around like a satin curtain as I turned my head, saying nothing, just lifting one perfectly sculpted dark brow.

  The assistant’s mouth clapped shut and her throat worked.

  With a small sound, I spun around as my bodyguard pulled open the door.

  Will glanced up in surprise, his expression morphing even more when our eyes collided. He was lounged back in his posh leather chair, feet propped on top of his glass desktop, ruby-red tie tossed over his shoulder, a crystal tumbler of dark liquid at his elbow, and a phone mashed to his ear.

  Was this work or drinks at the club?

  Upon seeing me, he jolted up. His feet hit the floor, and the tie slithered back over his chest. “I’m gonna have to call you back,” he told the person on the line, then promptly disconnected the call.

  “Babe!” he said, flashing a smile that used to fool me into thinking he really was happy to see me. “I had no idea you were coming by!”

  “Really?” I muttered darkly and pointedly stared at him.

  He cleared his throat as both hands slid into the pockets of his very black, very tailored designer dress pants. The action drew attention to the strength of his thighs, and I knew if I looked in the windows behind him, I would be able to see the reflection of the material pulled taut over his well-defined ass.

  I didn’t look. I held his stare instead.

  “Mind if I have a moment alone with my wife, gentlemen?” Will said, glancing at my two bodyguards who were just inside the room.

  I could tell by the look on his face that they didn’t do his bidding immediately. Anger flared in his eyes. He despised being challenged in any way.

  What a tell that was. If only I had realized it months ago.

  My stomach coiled a little at the countenance brewing in his blue stare, so I turned around to meet the eyes of my guards. “I’ll be fine.”

  Both of them hesitated until I nodded.

  “We’ll be just outside.” Mac assured me, but he glanced at Will when he spoke.

  “Thank you,” I said as they shut the door softly behind them. The latching noise was very definitive. It almost made me wince.

  Hold it together, Aerie.

  “You’re holding up the annulment,” I said, not mincing words.

  He plastered what I was sure he thought of as a charming smile on the lower half of his face. “No. I’m just giving you some time to realize what you’re doing is a mistake.”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I regarded him. “Getting married was the mistake, Will.”

  He smirked. “Funny, you were all for it the night we said I do.”

  “I don’t even remember that night,” I snapped. “And there is no way I would have agreed to marry you.”

  Annoyance flashed in his eyes but then disappeared. Turning, he walked around his bulky, glass-topped desk, pulled open a drawer, and withdrew a file folder. Coming back to stand in front of me, he made a show of opening the folder and turning it around so I could see the single sheet of paper inside.

  The room tilted a little when I realized what it was. Our marriage license. Right there as undeniable proof. “But you did agree,” he quipped and clapped the folder shut quickly.

  “Why?” I asked, abrupt.

  He frowned, his stupid smile—the one that made him look like he belonged in a wax museum—falling away. “Excuse me?”

  “Why did I marry you?”

  “I’m insulted you’re asking me.”

  My voice was dry. “More insulted than when I filed for an annulment?”

  That look, the kind that pulled back the curtain on all the anger he banked behind the mask that was his face, appeared again. The urge to take a st
ep back was so strong I literally rocked on my feet.

  I resisted, however, refusing to back down. If I retreated now, if I gave in at all, he’d win. Like all the other times he’d won before.

  And then?

  And then my life would no longer be mine.

  Despite the urge to flee, I stood my ground.

  Will stepped forward, almost as if he knew his presence was more than I could tolerate. He loved intimidating people. It was a sport to him.

  He reached out, caught a strand of my hair, and slid his fingers down it, letting go to caress the side of my chin. My stomach clenched. I didn’t breathe.

  “You’ve embarrassed me quite a lot over the past few weeks.” His voice was calm, almost amused.

  Chilling.

  “Then sign the papers. I’ll go away quietly and never embarrass you again.”

  “No,” he said much more forcefully and turned his back to me.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding, deflating like a balloon with a gigantic hole. “I saw the headline.”

  His chuckle filled the room. Goose bumps broke out over my skin. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “You leaked that rumor to the press, didn’t you?”

  “You joining me and Dad here at Solberg? That’s not a rumor. That’s inevitable.”

  “My lawyer says you’re trying to say there isn’t even any case for an annulment.”

  He stopped at the corner of his desk and turned back. He had authority about him. The kind that pulled in a girl, that made her drunk and stupid. By the time the hangover was over and she smartened up, she was in far, far too deep.

  Claw your way out, Aerie. Do it.

  “Might as well drop this now, babe. We both know I always get what I want. No point in making me any more pissed than I already am.”

  I’d have asked him if he was so pissed, why even bother fighting me on this, but I knew the answer.

  It wasn’t love.

  He didn’t know what that was. Another lesson I learned far too late.

  “Even if, by some divine act of God, we stayed married, I still wouldn’t sign with Solberg Records.”

  He chuckled again—the sound I’d hear in my nightmares for years to come. “Now how would that look? A wife not joining the family business?”