Again silence. I look down at my phone to see if I’ve lost her.
“Um, Toni?”
“Yeah?”
“I have some news that… sucks.” She sighs and that sliver of dread goes up my spine. I
know what’s coming, but I’m praying it’s not.
“Oh God. What?”
She sighs.
“Just say it. You’re freakin’ me out.” I close my eyes as I let my head rest on the back of the seat.
“So, our landlord called me and said if we don’t have the last two months’ rent, he’s
evicting us.”
I blink my eyes open and sit up.
“What?” I scream and wave at some woman who shoots me a dirty look from the front of the bus. “We paid. I paid,” I whisper.
“Apparently Heather was taking the rent that we gave her and instead of paying the
landlord, she was keeping it for herself and the shitty boyfriend.”
The bus shifts and I realize I’m almost back in Hollywood as we pass Beverly Boulevard. A moment of sheer terror comes over me. This can’t be happening.
“She wouldn’t. I mean, we paid her…”
A deep sigh comes over the phone. “She did, Toni, and now we owe close to three thousand six hundred dollars. I’m so sorry, but I don’t have it.”
A car horn startles me as the bus driver curses and honks back. I need to get off at the next stop. The colorful shops selling clothes of all sizes and shades flash by. But my mind is still trying to process what she’s told me.
The bus swerves and I stand, tossing my dance bag over my shoulder as I get off the bus and look around.
I hate Hollywood. At least I did until now. Now, I love Hollywood along with my shithole apartment. I love it a lot.
“I’ll kill her. What are we going to do?” I’m screaming and panting as I run toward my
apartment. Seriously, what am I going to do?
“Bella, please tell me you can pay some. I just got a job and if it’s as good as I
hope, I can—”
“Toni. Stop.” She sighs and I do stop. I’m almost at our apartment, but her tone makes
everything in my body go cold.
“I’m not coming back to LA for a while. I got asked to stay on the tour. Remember that woman Georgia? I was telling you about her? Anyway, she knows everybody.” She clears her throat. “And she got me in—”
“Wait. You’re not seriously thinking of doing this to me, are you?” I drop my bag as sheer terror slaps me in the face. The truth that I’m alone, truly alone, sinks in.
“I intended to keep sending my share, but that was before Heather did this. Please don’t be mad at me.” Her voice cracks, which usually makes me feel sorry for her, but today I’m freaking out.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Bella. I need you to please pay rent. I… if you don’t, I’m not gonna lie. I’ll be beyond fucked.” I look around and glare at a woman walking her dog as she shakes her head at me.
“I’m sorry. But this is not my fault. I know you’re the one getting screwed, but I don’t have that kind of money!”
Silence fills the phone. I blink back tears and look at the palm trees as I walk toward our building.
“Well, perfect,” I croak. Grabbing my bag, I punch in the code and wait for the loud buzz before I open the glass door. “You know what? Don’t worry. It will work out at the end of the day.” I snort as I ignore the elevator that is so old it takes twice as long as the stairs.
“Toni, I feel awful. If I had any money, you know I would send it to you. But I don’t and my mom’s been calling asking for money for her and my dad…”
“I get it.”
“I can’t keep paying rent on a place that I probably won’t see for another six months.” She sighs. “We got fucked. That slut of a friend of ours did a numb—”
“Bella, stop.” I move the phone to my other ear and set down the dance bag to get my keys.
“It’s gonna be okay. I got a job. I’ll make the rent on my own. And when you get off tour, if you want to move back in, you can.”
“Wait. What job?” She sounds concerned and I couldn’t care less. All I want is to get off the phone.
“Just a job. I told you this earlier. Listen, I’ve got to go. Don’t worry about anything. Take care of you.”
“Toni, don’t hang up. I feel horrible.”
I almost say, Not that horrible, since you’re more than happy to leave me to deal with all this shit, but I don’t. I’m done. This day has been a roller coaster of emotions and I’m drained. I need to get inside and hide under the covers.
“Talk soon.” I don’t wait to hear what she says. Hanging up, I move to open the door.
“Hey, Toni.” I freeze for a split second and frantically put my key in the lock.
“Jesus Christ, can this day get worse?” I hiss as I swing the door open to dart inside. A thin white arm holds it open.
“I’ve been calling you. Did your dingbat friend inform you that you’re two months behind in rent?”
My slumlord stands in front of me. He’s not wearing his usual sweatpants today and is dressed in some tight skinny jeans that make his shape look even worse than in his stupid sweats.
“Hey, Ryan.” I smile and act as if I’m shocked and flustered with my bag and phone. Anything to get rid of him before he opens his mouth again. His garlic breath, which is already making me gag, fills the apartment.
“I just got off the phone with Bella.” I hold up my hand to stop him from talking. “And don’t worry. I’ll have the rent. But, you need to know that this is not our fault. Heather stole the money, so I need a little time to—”
He starts laughing and leans against the door, his black-rimmed glasses making him look like he tries too hard. I turn to face my apartment and try not to breathe.
“Listen, this is not my problem, Toni. I don’t run a charity here. You trusted Heather.” He crosses his arms, making his thin upper body accentuate his stomach, which is rolling over his tight pants and tight T-shirt.
“You know what that tells me? That you’re not too bright yourself. Get me my money by the first. In case you can’t remember, that’s in two days.” He looks at me like he means business and I have to fight my eye roll. Instead I smile.
“Will do.”
He’s such an arrogant dick and he has nothing, and I mean nothing to be arrogant about. Heather said he hates us because he’s gay. First, I don’t know if that’s true. Second, that wouldn’t make him hate us. Knowing her, she probably tried to pick him up and he turned her down, so that makes him “gay.”
“Toni? Are you listening?” He claps in my face. “Don’t think I won’t evict your skinny ass.” He lets go of the door and I stumble back.
“I’ll have it.” I slam it shut and bolt it.
Ryan sucks. He’s an all-around unattractive man with terrible garlic breath. His dad owns this block, so he’s a trust fund brat. Whatever, he’s a weirdo and has no compassion. Although he was never all that nasty to me. I was hoping he would give me a break, but now, desperation flows through me.
Dropping my dance bag, I try to calm my racing thoughts. Step by step is how I need to handle this. God. Why is everything piling on top of me lately?
“Okay. It’s okay,” I chant. As I exhale, warm tingles of fear snake their way up my esophagus. My stomach flips as I think about being homeless.
I need to get my mind back in the game. First, I’ll get the pole down and tell Crystal I can do double shifts. I don’t even know if they do that, but I’ll ask.
I need clothes, wigs, shoes… God, what am I going to do?
Screw it.
I’m broke and I’ll have to make do. I have plenty of costumes and I own one wig. It’s black and cut in a straight bob with bangs.
I march into my room, purposely ignoring that the place is trashed. Fucking Heather can’t even do moving right.
Swinging open my bedroom door, I
go straight to my closet. It’s no use: I’ll have to suck it up and use one of my ballerina costumes. For a moment, I stop and let the bone-deep pain that shows up at the worst times run through me.
“They’re dead. Freakin’ stop, Antoinette.” I freeze. I’m talking to myself way too much. This happens when I’m stressed and scared. Flinging open my closet, I jerk my current clothes to the side to let all the ghosts of my past float out. Logically I know they can’t hurt me.
But they do.
After all this time, I still get that overwhelming dread that I’m bad luck. Nothing but darkness, sadness, and tragedy follow me. I fight back the tears—all they do is make my nose stuffy and serve no purpose. After I take a deep breath, my body calms.
“Stupid.” I sniff them away and reach for a bright red one. It was made for a performance when I was in the chorus, although I did have a small solo. So much time, pain, and discipline… for what?
“It’s a costume. Who cares?”
My parents paid a fortune for my dance tutus, but at that time we were rich, so it didn’t matter. I lift the scarlet tutu up. It’s perfect. I’ll cut the back and add Velcro. None of the other girls have stripped in a tutu, I’m sure. Ripping it off the satin hanger, I swear I get a slight whiff of my mother’s favorite perfume: Opium.
I miss her. I sniff back the tears. She of all people would understand. I need money. She’d tell me to do what I have to do. My mom was a survivor until she wasn’t.
I can’t allow this tonight. Their ghosts need to leave. Stay locked up. It’s how I get up every day, how I move on. As I swallow past the lump in my throat, I acknowledge that I’m stronger than they were. He was weak, and I’m not.
Tossing the exquisite tutu on my bed, I straighten my shoulders and scan the room for some scissors. If I want to be the best at this, I have work to do.
No more past, no more ghosts. I have a chance, and I plan to take it. That feeling I had earlier about something good and wonderful happening? That’s what I’ll hold on to—this job. A pair of sapphire eyes appear and I blink them away.
That feeling has nothing to do with meeting him. It’s about me and how I’m changing my life… and my luck.
AXEL
A loud banging is making my head pound. I try to ignore it, letting the woman’s body distract me as I snuggle my nose in her neck.
“Axel.” Ryder’s voice booms through my room, imploding my head.
“Prez says get your shit together. You’re missing Church, man.” His chuckle is followed by blessed silence.
The blonde rubs her ass on my hard-on. “Morning.” Her Southern drawl wakes me up enough to realize that Ryder is not fucking with me: I did sleep in and I’m late.
I’m never late.
I roll from my side to my back, laying my arm over my eyes. The fucking sun is bright, blinding me as I try to get my head working.
“Time to go, darlin’.” I sit up, stopping the blonde’s hand as she reaches to try to jerk me off.
“But… I’ll be quick.” She winks and I smile.
“Sweetheart, as much as I would love for you to continue, I’m late.”
Jessamine is a friend. She’s always willing to party and never asks for more. Hence why I text her whenever I need to escape.
“How much did I drink?” My head is pounding and that rarely happens. I’m what you call a seasoned drinker. Not much is gonna take me down.
She stretches again. As she smiles, her hands go to rub my back. “You were on a mission.”
Standing, I need a shower, but I’m late as fuck. I’ll have to wait until after Church.
Pulling on my jeans, I reach for my cigarettes. “You know your way out.”
She laughs. “God, you’re lucky you’re hot and have a big dick.” She leans over for a cigarette herself.
Jessamine is fun. Too bad that’s all I feel for her. She’d make a great old lady. Maybe Rip should fuck her. He’s always grumbling about not being able to find a nice girl.
Grabbing a black tee, I make my way into the bathroom. I need to give Amy another gift basket. My bathroom is so clean the light bounces off the shiny tile, making me see tiny black dots for a second. I don’t bother with hot water and go straight for the cold. Lifting my head, I assess the damage.
Bloodshot eyes stare back at me in the mirror, along with three days of stubble. Otherwise, I’m okay I guess. When I rub my chin, it’s sore, and I wonder if I got into a fight or slept on it wrong.
I brush my teeth and gargle with Listerine. Opening my medicine cabinet, I pop three Advil in my mouth, swallowing with a scoop of water from the sink, then run my wet hands through my hair. It’s starting to curl. I need a fucking haircut, but my stylist is fucking Edge in Mexico. Gritting my teeth, I think—not for the first time—this is all their fault.
I’m hungover because of them. If they had stayed A) My hair wouldn’t be curling around the sides of my head.
And B) I wouldn’t have smoked and drank away a huge number of brain cells. I snicker. Good thing I’m smart and have a lot to lose. I take one last look and decide it’s definitely a Visine morning. Leaning my head back, I saturate my eyes. Closing them, I relish in the burn of whatever magical formula they use. Pictures of small, firm tits and rock-hard nipples fill my brain.
“God damn it.” I snap my eyes open and give up on letting them adjust. If I keep them closed, I’ll only see the reason I got so fucked up in the first place.
I swear I can still smell her, it’s like my nose is holding her unique scent hostage. I was supposed to go back to manage the Pussycat last night, but that went down the toilet.
Fucking fantastic.
Crystal is gonna be a bitch. I’m sure she’s already called Derrick to complain. I grip the cool sink for a moment as I mentally prepare for the avalanche of messages.
A tap on the bathroom door reminds me that Jessamine is still here.
“Hey, Axel? I’m gonna take off, and Ryder’s back.”
I swing open the door. Jessamine stands dressed, her purse and shoes in hand. She looks way better than I feel.
Her eyes move to the door, and sure enough, Ryder’s massive body fills the space and he stands, arms crossed, his face void of all expression. Which means he’s pissed.
“We’re waiting. What the fuck, man?” he hisses as I walk past him.
“I’m hungover as fuck. I need a line.” I growl all this as I grab my shitty phone, which I refuse to look at. My pack of cigarettes and lighter are on the nightstand and I reach for them.
“Thanks, Jessamine.” I slap her ass as I pass her.
“Do I need to be worried about you? What the hell has happened?” Ryder walks behind me, but I can feel his eyes staring into the back of my head like he thinks that’s gonna tell him something.
“If you tell me you had a dream, I’m gonna punch you.” I turn to him and light up a cigarette, inhaling as we walk down the stairs.
“I did,” he replies. “I’m not sure how to feel about it.”
I throw back my head to laugh. “Perfect.”
Ryder has dreams that sometimes come true. I say sometimes because I’ve never bought into it. He dreamed that the wife of one of our brothers had breast cancer. It was true and he saved her life, so everyone freaks when he announces he had a dream.
“Hold on.” I stick my head into the kitchen.
Amy stands at her state-of-the-art Viking stove, listening to Frank Sinatra. She’s making what appears to be an enormous amount of bacon.
“I need a favor?”
She looks up and smiles. Amy has a soft spot for me. I think it’s because I don’t sugarcoat things. We both have that in common.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like shit and I’m late.” She nods and looks down at the bacon, then at her watch.
“Twenty minutes. That’s a first for you.”
I hesitate for a second and turn to Ryder. “Twenty minutes?”
“Yep.”
Fro
wning, I look back at Amy. “Can you please make me a spicy Bloody Mary?”
She turns to me, her eyes scanning my face. Amy’s wise and she’s known me since I was twelve. This woman knows all, anything and everything. No doubt she has a book’s worth of secrets.
“I’ll get on it. You’d better get in there.”
“You’re the best, Amy.”
“Wait.” She wipes her hands on a towel. “Here, start with this.” She hands me a steaming cup of black coffee. I smile at her. I’m closer to Amy than I am to my own mother.
“Thank you.” I wink at her and she shakes her head, but she can’t hide her small smile.
Ryder and I enter the conference room. At least I got a good amount of nicotine and a few sips of coffee before I have to force my head to work.
This is where we take care of all Disciples business. Our sacred place. Our Church.
The large wooden table is full.
Blade sits at the head along with my empty seat on his right. David and Ox sit talking with a handful of prospects in the back.
“Fuck.” I drop into my chair as Ryder sits too. Rip raises an eyebrow at me.
“How you holding up?” He grins and I motion for him to hand me his sunglasses. Fosters slides them across the table. He’s our newest member—came from Australia, the Melbourne charter. He got caught with the wife of one of his brothers and decided it was best to remove himself. Their loss. Our gain.
He’s a fucking machine and loyal to a fault. Blade glances over but keeps talking with Frosty, our club’s hacker.
“I need a fucking a bump, otherwise I’m gonna be worthless,” I announce as I stand and walk to our safe. I move aside the guns, passports, all kinds of shit.
This is the one spot that Amy doesn’t have access to and it’s a freaking disaster.
“Where’s the coke?” I say, continuing to push aside tons of prescription drugs.
“Never mind.” I grab a couple of vials. Dropping back into my chair, I dump the powder right onto the old wooden table. The many cracks and stab marks show the history of our club. Covering a nostril, I snort the white powder. My eyes instantly water, and my pulse races. Leaning over, I take the rest into the other nostril.
Ignite (The Disciples Book 4) Page 5