Breaking South: A Turner Artist Rocker Novel (The Turner Artist Rocker Series Book 3)

by Alyson Santos

  “Fine,” I clip out. I feel bad for my tone, but I can’t afford to get into it now. We don’t have time for that anyway. The dancers are already set, and my cue to get in place for the lift to the top of the staircase rings through my ears. “Gotta go. Wish me luck,” I say, forcing a bright smile.

  I don’t check Hadley’s face for her reaction as I line up on the riser. Once I’m in place, it lifts twelve feet into the air to the top of the illuminated staircase we use at the beginning of the show. For this part, the LED lights glow red instead of white and will flash key lyrics as I descend while singing “Horizontal.”

  The transition piece of the song comes to an end, and I set my body in position for the glare of the spotlight when it bursts on me for the opening line.

  “Intro-three-two-one,” the mechanical voice says.

  Flash.

  The crowd roars when I’m exposed. I do my first dance move at the top platform.

  “I’m a bit confused by the way you use those eyes”

  I take a step, my three-inch heels landing expertly for my next move.

  “This game we’re playing isn’t the way to my heart”

  Step.

  “It takes more than a slick reversal

  To get me horizontal.”

  Step.

  Except, this time my foot doesn’t land. No, my heel clips the edge of the stair, catching air as my body sways to the right. My arms flail but find nothing to grasp. For a split second, I see the ground below, dark and spotted with colored tape meant to guide my steps, not break a fall. It beckons me now, fear mixing with a strange exhilaration as I plunge weightless in slow motion. Do I scream? Maybe on instinct. Inside I’m laughing hysterically at the irony before everything goes dark.

  CHAPTER 15

  Please don’t call me lonely

  For it’s only

  you I’m missing

  Please don’t call me abandoned

  It’s just your hand

  I can’t reach

  Please don’t call me desperate

  When it’s you that’s left this

  Gaping hole

  It’s your void to own

  Until you venture home

  OLIVER

  This movie is shit. Or maybe it’s my brain that won’t stop punishing me for making the right choice. What choice, though? I didn’t have a choice when it came down to it. No, my mistake was making a promise I never should have made in the first place, and for that I’m living in a swirl of regret. I know she won’t see my messages for a while—she’s probably got at least a half hour left in her show—but it doesn’t stop me from picking up my phone to send another one. That only makes three, which seems reasonable given the extent of my crime. One apologizing again. One assuring her how much I care about her and how amazing she is. And the latest, a goofy selfie along with a request to see her as soon as she’s free. Man, I hope that’s enough to smooth things over. I can’t live with this pressure in my chest anymore, this weight of letting someone down.

  I close the text app just as a message flashes in from my sister.

  So sorry to hear about Genevieve. Hope she’s okay.

  I bolt up on the couch. What are you talking about? I type back immediately. How could she possibly know I stood up my girlfriend?

  The fall? comes her response a second later.

  My heart races at another text from a teammate. Dude, that looked bad. Your girl okay?

  Shit! Shit, shit, shit. I pull up Genevieve’s number, nausea sweeping through me when it goes straight to voicemail. I try Hadley next, but she doesn’t answer either.

  “Hadley, it’s Oliver. What’s going on with Gen? I just got some weird messages about a fall? She’s not answering her phone. Call me!”

  I’m about to message my sister again when I realize with a sinking feeling that I’ll probably get more information from the internet on this one. I do a quick search on my phone and collapse back to the couch. I can barely catch my breath at video after video of my girlfriend crashing down a flight of stairs from at least ten feet in the air. She lands awkwardly, smacking her head on the stage and clearly unconscious as a medical team and security rush out. I can only watch a couple times before the bile rises in my throat, my hand shaking as it grips the phone.

  No. No! I try Hadley again, my finger barely making contact with the screen as it trembles over her name. No answer.

  Fuck!

  I bolt to my feet, pacing violently while I shove my hand through my hair. I need to get to my car. No, the airport. Wait, my car would be faster because at least… fuck! I pull on my shoes and grab my keys, already stalking toward the stairs when Sandy comes thundering down.

  “You heard?” he asks, freezing in the middle when he sees me at the bottom.

  “I don’t know anything. She’s not answering. Neither is Hadley.”

  “Hadley?”

  “Her assistant. I’m going to her.”

  He shakes his head. “Okay, let’s just take a breath for a second.”

  I ignore him and continue up the stairs, frustrated when he doesn’t move. “Get out of my way, Sandy. I need to go.”

  “Yeah? Where exactly?”

  Fuck. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out. She was in Vegas tonight so I’m assuming a hospital near there.”

  His eyes bulge as his gaze turns cold. “Wait, does that mean when you were trying to duck out earlier you were planning to go to Vegas? Are you fucking out of your mind?”

  “Well, I didn’t, and now look what happened! Get out of my way!”

  His fists clench at his sides and he seems to double in size, blocking my path. “You’re not driving to Vegas, Ollie. Not right now. Not like that. Look at you. You’re shaking so much you can barely hang onto your keys. You’ll kill yourself on the road.”

  I shove them in my pocket, prepared to fight my way past him at this point. “Get out of my way, Sandy. I’m not going to say it again!” I take the final step separating us, pushing into his left side in a swift check. Unfortunately, he hasn’t been out of commission for months like I have and has no problem blocking my attempt.

  “You’re scared and desperate. You’re not thinking straight,” he hisses. “Get your ass back on the couch and let’s figure this out.”

  “Hell yes, I’m scared and desperate! My girlfriend is in the hospital, and I have no idea what’s wrong with her!” My stomach clenches, twisting with a sick truth. I would know if I’d been there. I’d be with her now. At her side, holding her hand. Hell, maybe she wouldn’t have been distracted and taken the fall in the first place. Hadley warned me she wasn’t right, that I was making things bad. For the second time in my life, my absence failed someone I loved. Oh god, what if I killed her too?

  Sparks spear through me, a terror so sharp it pierces my heart and sends surges of bloody fire through my body. I push forward again, this time breaking through his fortress and escaping to the other side.

  “Oliver, stop!” Sandy shouts, his own anger igniting. “Don’t make me stop you, because I will. So help me.” He grabs my arm, pulling me back. I yank hard to free myself, and he reacts with an instinctive force that slams me into the wall. He curses as I double over, the wind knocked from my lungs.

  “Ollie…”

  I glare up at him, prepared to charge again.

  “Don’t,” he warns. “Just…”

  My eyes narrow right before I run at him. He shoves me back, this time sending me stumbling a few steps down before I catch myself on the railing. The stunt gives him a heavy advantage, and he races the rest of the way to the top as I struggle to keep myself from mirroring my girlfriend’s plunge to the floor. I’ve just regained my balance when he disappears through the door and slams it shut. I launch up the stairs, but the sickening sound of something heavy sliding outside squeezes my chest with dread.

  “Sandy! What the fuck are you doing? Sandy!” I shout, pounding on the door. I throw my weight against it, but it doesn’t budge. He must h
ave wedged the bench in the foyer between the door and the opposite wall. “Sandy!” I’m banging my fists, desperate, furious, and now battling a new wave of fear at my imprisonment.

  “I’ll let you out when you calm down and are ready to be rational!” he shouts back. “I love you, dude, and I’m not letting you get yourself fucking killed tonight. Text me when you want to talk.”

  “Fuck!” I scream, slamming my fist against the door one last time. Sinking to the top step, I run my fingers through my hair, pulling hard as I try to catch my breath. Genevieve is suffering from god knows what, and I’m trapped here, unable to reach her. I thought ripping up my knee and getting sidelined for a season felt helpless. This is… ah! I release one fist from my hair only to smash it against the carpeted step instead.

  My mind spirals with a whirlwind of thoughts, some rational, some ridiculous, but all have me hovering on the verge of my own angry blackout as I shudder against a dark wave of despair. I’ve just pulled in a ragged breath to try to counter the rising panic when my phone buzzes in my pocket with a call. I fumble for it and nearly collapse at the sight of Genevieve’s number. I answer immediately, bracing against the wall.

  “Gen? Are you okay? God, I was so scared.”

  “It’s Corinne,” comes a sharp reply.

  My lungs constrict, blood pounding in my ears. “Ms. Fox? Where’s Genevieve? Is she okay?”

  “I have her phone while she’s incapacitated, and I’ll ask you to respect our privacy during this difficult time.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Do not call her or try to contact her, Mr. Levesque. It’s your fault she fell in the first place. You’ve hurt my daughter for the last time. Thank heaven she finally saw the light, even if it took this terrible tragedy to wake her up to your destructive influence in her life.”

  My heart stops. “What are you talking about?”

  “Do not contact her again.”

  “That’s not your decision to make,” I force out. “She’s a grown woman. She—”

  “It wasn’t my decision. She told me to tell you that if you contact her again, she’ll seek a restraining order. Leave her alone. She wants nothing to do with you. You were a terrible mistake.”

  With that, the line goes dead.

  Paralyzed, I stare at the wall for a long time. Corinne’s warning echoes in my ears, her statement gutting me with each pass through my head. Is any of it true? All of it? None of it? I press my palms against my eyes, forcing air into my lungs as I battle new monsters and old demons. Helpless. My entire body has been conditioned to be a weapon, and here I sit unable to do any damn thing. My ribs ache from where I hit the wall, my head from the violent riptide of the last twenty-four hours. Just a day ago we were blissful in her studio, facing new beginnings and endless promise. For that brief moment, I got to experience the wonder of watching her break free. It felt like a preview of a radiant future. For her. For us. Now?

  Tears burn behind my eyes. Frustration in liquid form. Fear. Anger. Disappointment. Old despair floods back and fills the basement in murky waves. I watch it rise, step by step, clawing toward me. There’s nowhere left for me to run. I’m locked here with no defense except to hold my breath for the last few desperate seconds until my strength gives out. Because that’s the real truth, isn’t it? No one promised the fight would be enough. There’s no guaranteed victory. I could suffer through rehab for a year and still never be cleared to play. I could battle the ugly until it consumes me and never be enough for Genevieve. Stopping the fight guarantees you’ll never win. Continuing doesn’t guarantee you will.

  My phone rings again, but there’s no joy or relief in my heart this time. It won’t be her. According to her mother, it will never be her. When I check the screen, it’s confirmed. Still, it’s the one other person who’s allowed to see me at my worst. She already has more times than I can count.

  “Camille,” I breathe out once our video call is connected.

  My sister’s concerned expression droops further when she sees me. “Oh, Oli. It’s not good, is it? I’m so sorry,” she says in French.

  I shake my head, looking away. My heart is too shattered right now to face her. “I don’t even know. Her mother has her phone and won’t tell me anything. I know the same as everyone else, which is nothing.”

  “She probably doesn’t want to worry you.”

  I blink back the emotion, not wanting to make my sister yet another casualty. “Maybe.” The lie grates against my lips as it slips out.

  “I wish I was there to hug you, Oli.”

  I close my eyes, fighting my intense reaction to that thought. God, I’d do anything to have her here right now. To feel the warmth of unconditional love. Any fucking flicker of light. “I wish you were too.” My voice sounds shattered. I wish I could take it back when I see how it hurts her.

  “I want you to come home for Christmas.”

  I swallow the new lump in my throat. The burn in my heart sears to my eyes. It’s too much. All of it. The shit show of my life raining down all at once. “You know I can’t,” I force out.

  “I know but… Oliver?”

  I shake my head, clenching my eyes shut.

  “Oli? What is it?”

  Tears push against my lids, pressing, violent in their assault. I grip the phone, pushing the heels of my palms against my eyes to block them. Not now! Not fucking now!

  “Oliver!”

  I hear my sister’s voice. She’d be staring at the ceiling with the phone in this position. Maybe the door behind me. I don’t know at what angle I have the camera anymore, as long as it’s not my face. As long as it’s not giving her access to the mess I’ve become. Weak, broken. My spirit as useless as my body now.

  My cheeks burn from the hot liquid as it seeps out. My eyes, even more. I whisper curses, but it doesn’t make it stop. The pain. The tears. The despair. All of it swirls around me inside and out. I’m a shadow, indistinguishable from the darkness surrounding me.

  “Oliver! What’s wrong? Are you crying? Talk to me.”

  I can’t. She can’t see me like this. Know I’ve failed. That I’m not the man she thought, probably never was. Maybe the gossip sites were right. I’m a fraud. A liar. Worse than that.

  “I’m showing you something,” she says to the ceiling. “Hold on.”

  Huh? After a few seconds, I hear rustling again as she picks up the phone.

  “It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but I think you need to see it now. Will you just look? Why am I still staring at a wall?”

  “It’s a ceiling,” I respond finally, my voice shaky. I pull in a ragged breath and drag my sleeve over my eyes. I probably look like a mess, but I finally adjust the phone so she can see me. Her reaction confirms it, and her eyes melt with the pain reflected in mine.

  “Oh, Oli,” she whispers.

  I blink and avert my gaze, searching for some remnant of strength to hold onto for her sake. Just a few more seconds and I can break once and for all in the solitude of my basement prison. Sandy was right to lock me down here. I shouldn’t be free to poison the world anymore.

  She sighs and seems to collect herself as she reaches for something beside her. “Emma and Eric made this. Mom told them to make a picture of you.”

  “The twins?” I ask, perking up at the mention of my baby brother and sister. Okay, so they’re ten now, but they’ll always be babies to me. Dad died of a heart attack right before they were born, Thomas just a couple years later. In a weird way, I’ve always been the father figure in their lives.

  She nods, biting back a smile. The phone angles away from her face and lands on a large sheet of paper. I startle a bit, choking back emotion at the image before me.

  “I told you, Oli. You’re not just some famous athlete,” she says softly. “And you’re not a popstar’s boyfriend either. You’re our brother and you are everything to us.”

  I suck in a breath at the rough image of me in a superhero cape, standing in front of our house with
my fists on my hips. Mom and the others surround me, smaller in stature but clearly depicted with representative characteristics. Lea and her guitar. Zoe and her camera. Camille with her books, and Eric and Emma with the dog they forced Mom to get last year. I blink back tears at the two figures in the sky, smiling down at us. Dad and Thomas, alive enough in memory and love to be depicted by young minds who never even knew them.

  “We need you, Oli. I need you,” Camille whispers. “You’re our world.”

  I swat the tears from my cheeks, nodding my response as the words catch in my throat. “I know. I’m… Just having a hard time,” I choke out. “I wish you were here.”

  Tears glisten in her eyes as she stares back at me. “I want to be. More than anything. I love you, big brother.”

  “Love you too, little sis.”

  She softens, studying me for a moment. “I have to go now. But, Oli?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I can’t wait to meet Genevieve one day. The girl you chose must be amazing. I really hope she appreciates what she has.”

  I force a smile. “Thanks, Camille. I hope you get to meet her too.”

  “Ollie?”

  I gasp awake, groaning at the sharp pain in my back. Disoriented, I glance around, surprised at my strange surroundings. Am I in a stairwell? Wait, my stairwell? I push away from the wall and turn toward the voice, squinting up at the bright light streaming in from the open door above me.

  “Shit, man,” Sandy mutters, lowering to where I’m wedged against the wall on the top step. He grips my arm, shoving his other under my shoulders to help me up. My sore muscles scream in agony as he tries to lift me from the floor. I do my best to help him, but my knee does me no favors after the long day of rehab, trauma of a fight, and punishment of my awkward position on the step.

  “What time is it?” I mumble as we limp downstairs.

  “One AM. When I never heard from you, I came to check and make sure you didn’t break a hole through my foundation or something. Didn’t expect this, though. Damn, kid. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”