“Fuck!” I reach up and tug at my hair in frustration—
Wait.
She said she’d leave something for me. What was it? Something from Kayla? I spin around and search the foyer for whatever it is. A piece of paper sits on the table next to the envelope I had Red drop off at Top Tier last night.
She doesn’t want to see me.
I pick up the paper, gripping it gently with both hands because it looks like it’s gone through the wash. Water marks stain the page in multiple places and some of the words are even worn off.
I don’t recognize the name on the letterhead. Some investment firm from Irvine.
Why the fuck did that chick bring this? It’s not a note from Kayla. Did she mix them up? It’s addressed to Kayla, though, so I keep reading. I chew my lip as I scan the paragraphs, then pause and go back to the top.
“Dear Kayla, we regret to inform you that after certain discrepancies have come to our attention...”
My voice cracks as guilt slams my esophagus closed. I can’t read the rest out loud. All I see is call girl. It stands out on the page like it’s printed in bold.
Every other word fades away but those. I don’t know what this Learn and Love Charter School is, but because of Kayla’s connection to me, because she was photographed with me, then lied about, she lost funding.
Because. Of. Me.
I don’t know what this means, exactly, but I have to get to the bottom of it. That blonde chick came to me because she wanted me to know what happened to Kayla, and I turned her away, treated her like trash. I basically called her a whore.
I set the letter back down on the table, then look around at the suite I haven’t left in days.
I’m the only trash around here.
The guys have been enjoying Vegas all week, gearing up for our encore shows this weekend after we decided to extend the tour to include this new music festival this weekend, and I’ve done nothing but wallow in self-pity like a real fucking loser. I don’t even know how many girls have ridden that elevator in the last week, smiling on the way up and crying on the way back down, as I struggle to find one of them who can take my mind off Kayla for even a second.
I grab my cell and punch Red’s contact info.
He answers quickly. “Yo.”
“Come back, man.”
He’s been staying with Chris and Trin at the Golden Nugget—Trinity loves the sharks—because I was too disgusting even for my bodyguard to stick around.
“You done drowning yourself in pussy and powder?”
I snort. “Yeah.” Yes to both of those.
Clicking end on the call, I shake my head as I start making my way around the room. I fill the trashcan in the foyer, then move onto the bathroom and the can in the wet bar. How many bottles of Dom have I let go flat this week? She ruined my favorite bubbly for me because I can’t drink it without thinking of her.
Housekeeping was here, like.... I don’t even know when they were here last. A few days ago, maybe? I just know I yelled at the maid and haven’t seen her since. I pick up old candy wrappers and shove them into the trashcan by the desk in the bedroom until that one nearly overflows, then start stacking up old plates and room service trays. Once I’ve slid them all outside the door to my suite, I grab all my dirty clothes and throw them into a bag, then throw a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt onto the bed. I find my last clean pair of boxers and walk into the bathroom.
Time to shower, shit, and shave.
There’s no way Kayla will forgive me if I show up looking like a homeless fucking drunk.
Not that she should forgive me at all.
I don’t even deserve to know someone like Kayla. I mean, she wants to open a fucking school, and I’m over here hiding in my hotel room waiting for the next girl to show up and suck me off.
But none of that matters now.
I’m going to fix what I broke.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Atlas
I look at the top of the letter for Kayla’s address, then punch it into Waze and hand the driver my phone. “Wake me up when we get there.”
I pull my beanie down over my eyes and lean back. The problem with drinking yourself into oblivion isn’t the drinking part or even the oblivion, it’s the stopping. My head pounds like there’s a fucking dinosaur bone excavation happening in my brain.
“Sir?”
I groan. I barely closed my eyes.
“We’ve arrived at your destination, Mr. Reynolds.”
I push my beanie back and look out the window. “How long was the drive?”
Red laughs from the front seat. “Thirty minutes.”
I raise an eyebrow. Huh. I open the door and climb out, then reach for the letter on the seat. “C-22.” I look back at the buildings. “Stay here.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
I close the door and pull my beanie off, shoving it into the pocket of my hoodie. I slide my shades on and run my hands through my hair. I look at my reflection in the Escalade’s windows. I’m not at my best, but at least it wasn’t Kayla who saw me at my worst yesterday. Since then, I’ve played a badass show, slept for ten hours, and quit drinking. I mean, not forever, but at least until my mind is somewhat clear again. Maybe I’ll wait for Kayla and we can break my hiatus with champagne.
I smile at the thought.
Time to face the music.
I look up at the buildings and C is the one closest to me. Following the numbers on the doors as they get higher, I finally come to 22, and my feet stop moving forward.
What if she slams the door in my face?
“Fuck.”
“Well, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
I look to my left as the blonde approaches me, her hands full of laundry. I walk over to her and reach for the basket of clothes, then look behind her for Kayla. When I don’t see anyone else, I look back at the blonde chick and try to grab the basket from her.
She frowns. “I can carry my own laundry basket, thanks.”
I drop my hands awkwardly. “Sure thing.”
She looks me up and down slowly. “You still look like shit, but there’s been improvement since yesterday.” She shrugs then walks past me. “At least you’ve had a shower.”
I smile sheepishly, then look at the ground. No one has ever made me feel like such a piece of shit.
“What do you want, Atlas?”
I look up and quickly follow behind her to the door of her apartment. Their apartment. My heart climbs into my throat. Is Kayla inside, just a few yards away from me?
Her roommate turns around, then shakes her head when she meets my gaze. “Wow, I actually feel sorry for you.”
My brows furrow.
“She left this morning.”
“Oh.” My shoulders slump. I pick at the edge of the letter in my hands. “What time will she be back? I can wait for her—”
“Back? Atlas, you knew she was moving back to California, right?”
I chew on my bottom lip. “Yeah, I mean, I knew she retired, and that she was moving home, but...” I sigh. “I didn’t know where home was.”
She heaves the laundry basket toward me, so I reach out and grab it. Turning around, she unlocks the apartment door and nods toward the living room. “Come on in.”
I follow her inside, looking around for any sign of Kayla. There’s nothing here that physically reminds me of her, but her scent is all over. I take a deep breath through my nose and breathe her in. She already moved back home; this might be the last time I ever feel close to her.
“Set that over there.” She points to the coffee table. “You want a beer?”
I shake my head. “Water?”
She raises an eyebrow, then disappears into the kitchen. When she comes back, she hands me a bottle of water, then looks me up and down. “Well?”
I take a long drink, then shrug.
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, let’s start at the beginning. Hi, Atlas, I’m Scarlet. Kayla’s best friend. I am not a hook
er you hired to come to your suite and give you head.” She flashes a smart ass grin, and I drop my gaze to the floor.
“Sorry about that.”
“Yeah,” she says. “That was pretty bad.”
I smile and look back up at her again. “Would you believe it’s been a rough week?”
With a laugh, Scarlet walks to the couch. “Come on. Sit. Tell me how you’re going to make things right.”
I sit down beside her, then set the letter on the coffee table, and tap it with my fingertips. “You brought this to me, so I’m assuming you already have an idea of how I can make this right.”
Scarlet grins, then leans forward and places her elbows on her knees. She looks into my eyes, searching my gaze. “Do you love her, Atlas?”
I swallow hard. No, of course not. I barely know her. “Yes.”
“You barely even know her.”
“I know. Fucking dumb, right?”
She laughs, waving her hand in the air in dismissal. “Nah. She loves you too.”
The smile falls from my face. “What? She hates me.”
“No, she doesn’t. She hates this.” She points to the letter on the table, then sits back and pulls her legs up beneath her. “What do you know about her?”
I laugh. “Not a fucking thing.” I run my hand over my hair. “God, that really does sound stupid.”
“Kayla is the best person I’ve ever met. She’s driven, and strong...” She shakes her head as if trying to find the words. “This school is—was—everything to her.”
I nod. “Yeah, the um... Learn and Grow Charter School.”
“Learn and Love,” Scarlet clarifies. She looks over at a book shelf, then back at me. “I thought maybe she left it here, like she left this letter.”
“What?”
She waves toward the bookshelf. “Oh, this whole plan, you know? This binder full of every little detail. I mean, she’s been working on this plan for five years, maybe even more. Learn and Love is this amazing concept, you know? Like, it centers around the fact that schools place such emphasis on education, you know, on book smarts, and learning, math and all this other bullshit, but there’s literally no emphasis on being an actually decent human.”
I smile as she explains this side of Kayla that I hadn’t yet gotten the chance to meet. Learn and Love,” I say, because the name is starting to make sense.
“Yeah. Learning is great, but if you have all these super intelligent people, right, but no heart, no soul—”
“No love.”
She nods. “What then? Who cares if you can cure cancer if there’s no humanity left in the world? Who cares if you’re a Republican or Democrat or a surgeon or... I don’t know, I mean, what if the worst fucking guy on earth is president? Does it matter if there’s no compassion left? We’re all just... drones.”
I shake my head. Kayla is even better than I thought.
There’s no fucking way I deserve a girl like her.
I want the world to love me.
She wants to love the world.
I look at her best friend and pray she’ll help me make things right. “How much did she lose? I’ll write a check. I’ll cover what they took from her and then some.”
She laughs sharply. “Oh no, that is the last thing you should do.”
Frowning, I chew on my lip. “Why? What do you mean? She needs the money, right?”
Her eyebrows rise up. “Yeah. She lost half of her funding thanks to that little article about you two. But Kayla will hate you if you try to buy her back.”
I shake my head. “I’m not trying to buy her back... I’d be... investing. Why is that bad?”
“Just trust me.” She brings her bottle of beer to her lips and takes a long sip, watching me as she does so. When she’s finished, she sets the bottle down and leans forward on her elbows. “Look, Atlas, I know you can fix this. But you can’t fix anything if you think money fixes everything. That’s not Kayla.”
Scowling, I stand up and begin to pace the living room. She’s talking in circles. God, women are confusing. “Okay, so, she needs money, and she lost that money because of getting mixed up with me, but I can’t give her the money she lost because she’ll...” I look at her expectantly. “Help me out here.”
“She’ll say it’s pity money.”
“What the fuck?”
“I know.” Scarlet shrugs.
I pull in a deep breath. “Okay.” I scratch my head as I consider my options. “I have to go to the investors and make them change their minds.”
“Bingo.”
I turn to her and hold her gaze for a long time, then give a curt nod. “Okay. Then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Okay.” She stands and extends her hand. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Atlas.” She laughs. “This time.”
I smile and shake her hand. “Likewise, Scarlet. Thanks for the help.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiles as she walks me to the door. “Now go get our girl.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kayla
My mom’s been hovering since I moved back from Vegas, and I know I owe her for letting me stay here after the sellers delayed escrow for another week, but I’m going stir crazy with her constantly looking over my shoulder and asking me if there’s been any change with my situation.
I should have never told her about the whole Atlas debacle and subsequent fall out, but the tabloids made it sound worse than it was, and I had no choice but to run damage control.
She knocks on my door again, and I finally pull my earbuds from my ears. “Come in.”
“Oh,” she says as she opens the door, “I didn’t think you heard me through all this wallowing.”
I roll my eyes. I get it; I’m wallowing. I’ll stop soon.
Or not.
Wallowing isn’t a sin. Is it?
Greed, lust, sloth, gluttony...
She sits on the edge of my bed. “There’s a young man here to see you.”
I sit up and look at her. There’s mischief in those familiar brown eyes. “What? Who?”
She smiles. “He’s cute.”
I stand up and walk to the door, then turn around and face her. “Mom. What did you do? I told you I’m not interested in dating any of your Bunco friends’ sons.” Oh my God, like, no, Mom, please don’t set me up with some random dude.
She laughs. “Oh, this isn’t Betty’s son, honey.” She stands and approaches me, then holds my shoulders as she looks over my outfit. “Have you showered yet today? It’s nearly four in the afternoon.”
“Oh my God, Mom.” I push out of her arms. Wait, have I showered? Yes! I have! “Yes, actually, I showered this morning.” So there, Mother.
Mom frowns, then looks at my top pointedly. “Change your shirt.”
“What?” I look down at my old Rolling Stones shirt and hold out my hands. “What’s wrong with this?” I mean, okay, aside from the hole and the completely worn out fabric that showcases my boobs. Fine. I should probably change if I’m going to interact with another actual human.
But if it’s not her Bunco friend’s derpy son, who is it?
Mom shakes her head, then looks at the doorway before she slowly brings her gaze back to me. “He looks like more of a Banging Cade fan.”
I swallow hard as her words knock me back down on my bed.
Her lips twitch as she watches me.
“Mom. That’s not even close to funny.” Not even in the same zip code.
She shrugs. “I wouldn’t keep him waiting long, Kay. He’s really quite good looking.”
“Oh my God, Mom, shhhh. He’ll hear you.”
She laughs, then leaves the room.
What the hell? Is Atlas here? He couldn’t be. I mean, how would he find my mom’s house? He doesn’t even know where I’m from, let alone the house I grew up in.
I stand up quickly.
Google, you fucking idiot. Google could have told him just about everything he needs to know about me. Public record and all that.
>
Shit.
What is he doing here? What do I do? “Oh my gosh.” I sit back down on the bed because my brain has stopped working. I can’t see him. I definitely can’t see him looking like I’ve been pouting in my room for the entire two weeks since I got back.
Someone raps on my door and it opens slowly, and my breath catches in my throat and every thought I’ve ever had in my brain disappears into nothingness because there he is, standing in my doorway, framed by the too-pink walls of a too-girly room, looking like the Angel of Death in all that black, and holy hell, I’d sell him my soul without a second thought.
Atlas is even more beautiful than I remember.
He licks his lips. “Hi.”
I suck in a shaky breath, then nod.
Can’t. Form. Words.
“Can I come in?”
Oh my God, no. I nod again.
His lips twitch on a smile as he steps inside my childhood bedroom, his gaze never leaving mine. He closes the door behind him, then leans against it. “It’s good to see you, Kayla.” His gaze drops to my chest, and his eyelids get heavy for a second before he looks back up into my eyes, his eyebrows slightly raised. “I think Jagger would approve.”
I cross my arms over this raggedy old shirt and the nipples he just zeroed in on, then try to pretend that gaze didn’t just tighten my belly into a giant knot of desire. “I’m going to kill my mom.”
He laughs. “She seems like a nice enough lady to me.”
My eyes widen and I swallow. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
Atlas shrugs. “I just figure that if we’re going to be accomplices for something, there are far better laws to break.” He looks around the room, then brings his gaze back to mine. “Nice room.”
I bark a laugh. Not my sexiest moment. “Lies.”
He steps forward and my pulse accelerates. He glances to the Banging Cade poster on my wall, then snorts. “I deserve that.”
I run my hand over my face. One side of the poster is ripped off. One guess as to whose face was on that side. “I’m sorry, I...”
The bed moves as he sits down beside me, then his cologne weaves its way to my nose, and I think I might just melt into him if he asks nicely enough.
Claiming Atlas (Completely Rocked Book 1) Page 16