Viper (NSB Book 3)

by Alyson Santos

  - Mila Taylor, over and out.

  “Fuck!”

  This time I really do smash the damn thing.

  “The Mila post?” A voice interrupts, and I twist toward Hannah who lowers herself beside me.

  “Wait, you knew?”

  “Everyone knows. It’s all over the news.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I figured you didn’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t going to bring it up. It’s bullshit.”

  “Like that matters,” I mutter, resting my head on my fists.

  A squeeze on my arm reminds me that one person in this universe hasn’t abandoned me. I reach over and take her hand. Cling to it while what’s left of my world crumbles around me.

  “I’ll never work again, Han.”

  “But it’s not true.”

  “Doesn’t matter. When Mila Taylor says you’re out, you’re out.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  I shrug, and push myself up from the couch. Water isn’t going to cut it anymore.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Her question digs into my chest. “Write the shit out of ‘Viper Rising.’ Let’s get to work.”

  ∞∞∞

  Writing is a great distraction. Unfortunately, it can’t block freight trains.

  The criminal charges turn out to be assault related to my now infamous fight(s) with Luke on our tour. Holland assures me he didn’t press charges and won’t. I believe her since typically the perp is included in the process. Apparently, that fact is irrelevant in the world of pop “reporting.” If I still had a label, a manager, anything, we’d be working on a publicity stint to clear this up. I don’t, so all I have is Hannah’s concern. Must be a slow news season if my collapse is the most remarkable topic in Canada.

  “You have to do something,” Hannah says, marching from one side of the living room to the other. I must look particularly bad today if she’s willing to take up arms on the one subject I insist is off limits.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know. Did you see the thing about the strip club and those girls?”

  “Yeah. They just want their fifteen minutes. I don’t do drugs.”

  “I know but what if the spotlight isn’t enough for them? What if they escalate their claims?”

  “What, like harassment?” Apparently you can’t turn off lawyer brains. “They pursued me. Not the other way around.”

  “It doesn’t matter, and you know it. Just an accusation is enough to hurt you.”

  I suppress a laugh. “What’s left to hurt, Han?”

  Her gaze hardens, and I clench my jaw. I haven’t told her yet. Honestly, I didn’t want to, but she seems intent on fighting battles that don’t matter anymore. “I’m officially banned from the Alton estate.”

  “What?” Her lawyer-face melts into compassion.

  “Frederick didn’t even give me the message himself. I was informed by security this morning.”

  “Oh my... I’m so sorry.” She lowers herself beside me, but the heat of her presence isn’t enough this time.

  “No violent felons in his house. Definitely no drug addicts. Makes sense after spending a fortune on the ad campaign to cut ties with me. The editorial in The Star? Genius.”

  “Wes…”

  “He’s been waiting fifteen years for this moment.” I squint at an imperfection in the white paint. Scuff? Small crack? Hard to tell from this distance.

  “How can he believe those lies about you?”

  I don’t answer at first. She hasn’t spent a lifetime picking through my father’s hatred. To her, family is more than a stigma.

  “Hannah, he was probably Mila’s source.”

  I’m relieved that she doesn’t respond. She’s too intelligent and I’m too serious for some pointless declaration about how that can’t be true. We both know it can. We both know it probably is.

  “Kick ‘em when their down. The key to Frederick Alton’s success.” There’s an edge in my voice that scratches deeper than intended. What do I care about this final betrayal? He’s been trying to erase me for as long as I can remember. Well done, Frederick. I’m annihilated.

  Hannah tucks her arm around mine, rests her head on my shoulder. She reaches for my fists and smooths my fingers in hers. The violence in my stomach is no longer directed outward, and it fucking aches with the weight of failure.

  “You know the worst part? I always figured I’d end up here at some point. This last decade has been a fight against the inevitable. Holland blocked the walking shit-storm that I am.”

  She squeezes my hand. “That you were.”

  I glance down at her. That I am, babe. “I need food. You hungry?”

  19: SISTERS

  Amazingly, Sophia still wants me to play her wedding. The plan is to use Limelight as a cover, so I crash on the couch and give Jesse Everett a ring with my brand-new phone.

  “Hey, man. How’s life since the tour?” I ask when he answers.

  “Better than yours. I don’t have a rap sheet.”

  I smirk. “Yeah, well, I don’t either. Mila Taylor, man.”

  “Is any of it true?”

  “Just that I left Tracing Holland. The band is still intact. Holland is hiring Sylvie’s new boyfriend.”

  “Wait, Shandor?”

  “You know him?”

  “Yeah. Met him at the Bahamas gig. Cool dude. Guy can play. Total flamenco vibe.”

  “Flamenco? Holland will have fun with that.”

  Jesse laughs. “I’m sure if he can play like that, he can manage the rock thing. Plus, she’s got Luke and NSB behind her.” Apparently cringes are audible. “Shit. Sorry.”

  “It’s cool. I’m over that. Bigger shit on my plate right now.”

  “Obviously. What’s your next move?”

  “That’s why I’m calling.”

  “You want in on Limelight?”

  “Ha! No, dude. I wouldn’t do that to you. Remember my sister Sophia?”

  “How could I forget? Did she like the swag?”

  “Loved it. Listen, I’ll save you the background drama, but can you pretend you’re playing her wedding in April if it comes up?”

  “Um… sure?”

  “I know. Totally messed up, but she wants me to play and our family would freak. Everyone would with what’s going on right now. Better that they think it’s you, then we show up last minute.”

  “Makes sense. We got your back. Hey, does she want us to play it for real?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Wouldn’t that be better? You can still do your thing, but we’ll play too. Then we’re officially booked.”

  “I’ll ask her. I have a feeling she will lose her shit.”

  “In a good way?”

  “In a ‘never mind, big bro, I only want them’ kind of way.”

  “Sweet. We’re in. I’ll talk to the guys.”

  “Dude, you’re the best.”

  “You got it, man. Mila Taylor is on my shitlist too.”

  “Wait, did she go after you too?”

  “Eh, we’ll talk about it another time. Let’s just say, right now your sister’s wedding might be our biggest show this spring.”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry, Jess. You guys are legit.”

  “Whatever. Hey, I’ve gotta run, but it’s been good catching up. Send me the details.”

  “You got it.”

  I swear, the universe is confusing as fuck sometimes.

  ∞∞∞

  I’m rewarded with an ear-splitting shriek for my announcement that our Limelight lie is now the truth. It’s going to be the “best wedding ever,” according to my sister, although the band’s instant availability isn’t as much of a surprise to Sophia as it was to me. She’s aware of Jesse’s clash with Mila Taylor. Apparently, it’s now a public feud since he made the rookie mistake of fighting back. I’ll have to address that with him at some point.

  “You’re still doing my processional, right?”
she asks.

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Duh.”

  “Then I guess that’s a yes. Hannah and I are working on something.”

  “Hang on. Hannah Drake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wes... really?”

  “What? I thought you liked Hannah.”

  “I freaking love her. It’s just…”

  “Just what?”

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be spending so much time with her.”

  “Why not?”

  More silence. “Well… gah! I can’t tell you.”

  “Tell me what? Come on, Soph.”

  “Fine. Wes, she’s had the biggest crush on you for, like, ever.”

  The snort escapes before I can stop it.

  “That’s not funny! I’m serious. She’s an amazing person and… Don’t say anything. She’ll kill me.”

  “Sophie, relax.”

  “This is serious, Wes. She’s not the kind to play around.”

  “I know, okay? I know.”

  “You know? About her feelings?”

  “Yeah. Look, enough good people have been dragged into my thing. Just trust that it’s fine if Hannah and I perform together at your wedding.”

  “Wait, are you dating her?”

  “Sophia…”

  “What? Are you?”

  “No.” I clear my throat. “Not officially,” I add because by her silence, she doesn’t believe me anyway.

  “Oh my gosh. Have you slept with her?”

  “Sorry, gotta go. Oven’s beeping. My brownies are done.”

  “Bullshit!” she laughs.

  “What? I bake now that I have so much free time.”

  “You bastard!”

  “I wish.”

  “Fine. Keep me in the dark. I’ll just have to get it from Hannah.”

  “You better not. She’s going through some major shit too. She doesn’t need more drama. I’m trying to protect her.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s what you do, Wes.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s your excuse.”

  I shake my head and consider hanging up on my sister for the first time in my life. “Excuse for what?”

  “Excuse to ignore your own issues. You define yourself by pouring all your energy into other people. The problem is, it’s not your job and it blinds you. It’s why you cross lines.”

  “How the fuck did we get to this?”

  “Don’t get mad. I’m just being honest. Hannah is my friend, and you’re my brother. I love you both, and I just don’t see this ending well. You’re going to go all superhero on her perfect ass.”

  “I’m hanging up now.” Although her ass is perfect.

  “You know I’m right. All I’m saying is you need to keep your head on this time, okay? Don’t do anything in her name that she wouldn’t want you to do.”

  “Like?”

  “Punch her boyfriend in the face?”

  I let out a grunt.

  “I love you, bro. I want you to be happy. But that’s not going to happen if you keep wanting to control everyone around you.”

  “Wow. You’re welcome for booking Limelight for you.”

  “Oh, stop. Go brood and punch something. Later tonight, you’ll think back on this and know I’m right.”

  Whatever. “Are you inviting Luke?”

  “No, but I’m sure he’ll be Holland’s plus one.”

  I sigh. “I swear, that dude …”

  “That dude could be your brother-in-law one day at the rate you’re going. Ever think of that?”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Exactly. You better figure it out.”

  ∞∞∞

  Once again, the universe decides to screw with me. I’ve barely had time to process Sophia’s speech before I get a message from Holland. She’s in town. She wants to meet. Is Luke with her? Yeah.

  I almost call Sophia next to see if she had anything to do with it, but it’s Hannah’s number that I dial.

  “Holland’s in town?” I ask.

  “Yeah. For a couple days before the winter tour.”

  “She wants to meet up. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Didn’t know I had to.”

  I’m pacing my condo like it’s an Olympic event. My hair is a mess from shoving my hands through it.

  “Do you know why she wants to meet?”

  “No. I didn’t even know she contacted you.”

  “Does she know about us?”

  “What’s there to know?”

  “That we’ve been hanging out.”

  “Hanging out, huh. Naked?”

  The smile in her voice finally draws one from me. “You know what I mean.”

  “And if she does?”

  “Then that explains why she wants to meet up.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  I lean against the wall and force my fingers into a steady rhythm against the paint. “Be my date for the meeting?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I need you.” Ah that sounds so permanent.

  I can’t tell if she sighs with relief or something else. “Okay. Should I just get a ride with my sister?” she asks dryly.

  Another quirk of the lips. “Not a bad idea.”

  “You know this is nuts, right?”

  “This whole situation is messed up.”

  “Well, yeah… Where is it?”

  “My place.”

  “Yep. Totally messed up.”

  ∞∞∞

  I text Hannah right after we hang up and ask her to come early to make sure she’s here first. I don’t even know why I invited her. Am I planning to disclose our relationship to Holland and Luke? Why the hell would I do that? And now of all times? We haven’t even figured out what we’d be announcing yet.

  But there, in the heat of the moment, I couldn’t imagine fighting my way through this situation without Hannah. We’ve been through too much together to start compartmentalizing our trials. She’s given me everything; I’m still holding back so much. Maybe Sophia’s right. I’m not giving Hannah enough credit by assuming she can’t handle my shit. And there it is: the truth my subconscious understood without me. It’s time for her to understand what she’s getting into. She thinks she wants me, but she needs to see the real Wes Alton, the asshole who deserves the destruction in his wake.

  She must have left right after my message because there’s a knock twenty minutes later. She’s back to knocking again, and something constricts in my chest.

  I buzz Holland and Luke in fifteen minutes later.

  ∞∞∞

  “Thanks for letting us come over.”

  Holland is as beautiful as always. Luke wears that scowl he reserves especially for me.

  “Luke.”

  “Wes.”

  “Come in.” I wave them toward the couch, and Holland stops cold.

  “Hannah?”

  “Hey, sis.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I invited her,” I say, accepting the eye darts.

  “I thought you moved back in with Mom and Dad.” Suspicion drowns her words, and Hannah’s, “We’re friends,” doesn’t help much.

  “Can I talk to you for a second?” Holland directs back to me.

  “You can talk in front of me,” Hannah says. “I already know everything about the band stuff. Unless this is a ‘don’t mess with my little sister’ kind of talk. In which case, he’s well-versed on the topic.”

  A snicker is completely inappropriate at the moment so I bite my tongue to stop it.

  “So you two aren’t…?” She can’t even say it.

  Hannah taps her chin. “Dating? No. Sleeping together? Sometimes. Unless you want to date and make it official?” This one is a direct jab at me and comes with a coy smile.

  Really, Han?

  “You’re sleeping together?” is apparently all Holland heard. />
  “Okay, hold on. Back up.” I step between them. “Why are you here, Hol? It’s not to talk about Hannah.”

  “I didn’t think we’d have to talk about Hannah,” she shoots back.

  “We don’t,” Hannah and I say in unison, which definitely doesn’t help.

  Even Luke is staring at us like we’re some strange museum exhibit. He’s unexpectedly silent, however. For a brief second I suspect he actually gets it. After all, I know he doesn’t think he deserves Holland either. And he’s right about that. Shit, no wonder we hate each other.

  “We’re writing together.” All eyes rest on Hannah, whose tone has changed. Softened with the significance of that statement.

  “Music?” Holland asks. I brace for a rant, unprepared for the release that settles over her.

  Hannah seems just as surprised. “Yeah, it’s been really good.”

  “Oh, Han!” Holland rushes in for an embrace. We can barely hear her voice muffled against her sister. “I’m so happy you’re creating again.”

  Hannah’s gaze flickers to mine over Holland’s shoulder. “You can thank Wes for that. He also forced me back into counseling.”

  Holland pulls back, expression confused instead of accusatory now. This new universe doesn’t make sense to her either.

  “He sent me home, Hol. I didn’t want to leave.”

  I feel two sets of eyes on me now. Luke’s face is stone, but Holland’s confusion has morphed into curiosity. Something else. We have to end this before it becomes something it’s not.

  “So what’s up, Hol?” I move to the fridge and grab a few bottles of water. I hand one to Luke who stares at it like I’ve just tried to hug him.

  “Thanks,” he mumbles. Holland cracks the lid of hers, and I have to admit the quick twitch of her lips when I take a sip of my own feels damn good.