by Riley Scott
“You’re right,” Paul finally answered. “But I’ll try again. And I won’t stop trying until she listens to me. I don’t care if she hates me for a bit, or even forever. I know she’s stubborn. It’s that stubbornness that brought us all here—maybe not you but certainly all of us guys. We were all stubbornly refusing something—whether that be refusing the cookie-cutter nine-to-five lifestyle or refusing to give up on a dream. I’m here because I’m too stubborn to believe I’d be fulfilled doing anything other than making music I love. Joe is here because he was too stubborn to give up on the same dream. Pete was too stubborn to believe that drinking on the job was frowned upon.”
He laughed to lighten the mood. “I’m kidding. Pete’s here because he’s too stubborn to settle for less than his absolute best—which fortunately happens to be making killer music. You are here because this is the world you were made for. You would have been here anyway, because you’re just that damn good. The rest of us, though, we’re her band of misfits. We’re her people, her people whom she pulled from the same depths of hell where she was, and brought us here. For that and for what she means to me, I’ll keep trying.”
“What do you think is best in this situation?” Frank asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets, no doubt stifling an urge to look at his watch.
“Christina is good for her, honestly,” he said, after a brief pause. “She is level-headed and she has Raven’s best interests at heart. That’s something that we can’t say for everyone in this fame-chasing world. And who knows, what’s going on between them may be nothing more than a fling. But the way they look at each other is more. It’s deeper. I’ve seen her look at a lot of girls, but this one is different somehow. So, I hope she stays. I hope Raven doesn’t fuck it up in her own fucked-up way that she’s so skilled at, and I hope she learns to be—to be who she is, to embrace who she was and to be with another.”
Looking away momentarily, Frank exhaled deeply. When he turned back, he placed his hand on Paul’s shoulder. “She’s lucky to have you. You’re a good one.”
“Thanks,” Paul said, shaking his head as Frank walked away. He knew Frank cared. In fact, he knew that anyone who cared any less would have walked away years ago. Raven was a handful—not for the band guys. For them, she was fun. She was lively and spirited. She brought spunk to their group that couldn’t be matched and she brought so much happiness into their lives.
But to Frank—and to others—she seemed to have a knack for figuring out what would piss them off the most and doing it. She had bratty teenage syndrome, delayed by a decade or more. She was prickly. Yet she was soft on the inside, warm and loving and always ready with a quick wit to make any mood better. Over the past weeks, he had delighted in watching Christina sift through the bullshit of the façade with ease.
At the end of the day, no matter what had come between them or what might be eating at them, they all had the music in common—as did the crowd. Everyone wanted to get lost in the music, to feel alive, to feel something, to be something other than themselves, even if only momentarily.
And tonight in New York City, that’s just what Paul was going to do. Later, he promised himself, he would have a talk with her. Later, he would figure out a way to broach the subject casually without having her run like a wild animal at the sound of gunfire. Later, he would do his best to help his little sister navigate her way through a world that had always brought her someplace just shy of satisfaction and contentment.
Chapter Ten
She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something felt off. As Raven lay awake in bed, she felt Chris stir beside her. Glancing down, she was relieved to find her still breathing deeply, still sleeping. Rising quietly, she threw on an old T-shirt and a pair of boxers from the bedside drawer.
Looking around the room, nothing was different. They were back on the bus after playing San Francisco. Things had settled into a normal rhythm after their jaunt to New York. Sure, the guys had seemed a little odd after the show tonight and Paul had been insistent on trying to get her alone to “talk” for a few minutes. She had brushed it off, assuming he was just on one of his pot-fueled philosophy rants, wanting to discuss the meaning of the universe, what really made a family and what their dreams and goals were. She crept from the room, careful not to let the door make a sound as it closed.
Stumbling through the darkness, she was grateful that she knew this place better than any she had ever called home. She wound her way expertly around the guitar cases and couches, straight to the kitchen area. She grabbed a glass of water and a bag of Cheetos and took a seat on the couch. Apart from wanting a late night snack and to reflect on the great sex she and Chris had just had, she was bothered by how strange everyone was acting.
Move by move, she went through her memory of the show. All had gone well and they had put on a concert second to none. Sure, there had been those funny moments that seemed to occur every night, the banter onstage, sultry eye contact with fans, the joking. But that was normal. Everyone had complimented her on a spectacular night, but their words had been clipped and short—Frank’s especially. Her mind swirled with possibilities.
If he was going to suggest rehab again, that was a definite no from her. They had discussed it and when she needed to, she laid low for a while and gave her body a break. She wasn’t going to sit around a campfire and sing “Kumbaya” with a bunch of loser alcoholics and druggies.
If he was going to come at her with a new publicity stunt or something to soften her image, she was out. Chris was doing a damn good job and the Rolling Stone article had been a hit. She had more fans now than ever and that didn’t seem to be at risk of changing. She had a PR person and she didn’t need Frank to concern himself with that.
If it was about the way she dressed or how she should try to look more like a pop star, she was going to tell him to shove it.
As she ate Cheetos angrily, she tried to place what could have been so wrong that he’d been walking on eggshells for days.
She glanced back to the bedroom doorway and let out a sigh. Who was she kidding? She knew what he was upset about. They all got weird whenever she spent more than one night with any girl—let alone one who happened to be on staff.
It had been weird enough for her to have someone around constantly, but she had to admit that she was enjoying it. Even so, it would probably be best to cut Chris loose soon, so that things didn’t get any more complicated than they already were.
Shoving a handful of the crispy chips into her mouth, she shook her head. One of these days she would learn to keep people at an arm’s length. She would learn that letting them come any closer would only wreak havoc on the system she had so carefully worked to establish.
She closed her eyes, trying to think of how she could end this with grace. Technically, there was nothing to end. They hadn’t discussed what it all meant and what would warrant a parting of ways, but the fact that Chris also lived on the bus and was doing a great job of handling Raven’s PR was a complication. Every scenario had Chris hating her. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue. Girls across the globe hated her and with good reason. She was an ass when it was necessary and she put an end to things when they needed to be finished.
The thought of never seeing those green eyes, of never again feeling that soft touch or seeing that smile that held the power to light up an entire room made her heart feel empty and she wanted to cry. For the first time in years, she wanted to cry over saying goodbye to someone. She let that thought resonate, but only for a minute. Pushing it away, she recalled what Paul had told her over and over throughout the years.
“At some point, you have to let somebody love you.”
“You have to let someone in—someone other than me.”
“You have to trust. Not all people are bad.”
“Stop running so damn hard.”
“Just let go, Rave, just let go.”
His words made no more sense to her tonight than they ever had. Everyone had the capacity to detach, to
abuse and hurt, to ruin her—and that was the last thing she was ever going to let happen again, consequences be damned.
Her mind slipped back to another time, a place she never let her thoughts venture.
“Why don’t you just get the hell out of here?” Angry shouts woke her. Glass breaking.
Ten-year-old Erin trembled in her room, wishing she could drown out the noise, but knowing it would only get worse. Far too accustomed to this, she looked around the tiny room, looking for someplace to go, someplace she would feel safer. As quietly as she could manage, she slipped from her covers and hid behind the door, knowing it was only a matter of time until the attention turned to her instead of her mother. He would find her. He always did, but at least this way, she could have some sort of cover. She hoped tonight would be one of the nights he passed out early, in the middle of his rage—not one of the nights when his outbursts went for hours, a raging, living nightmare.
“Where do you want me to go?” her mom’s voice slurred. The unmistakable sound of a fist crashing into flesh.
“Anywhere but here,” he spat out. Another shattering sound. “You’re nothing but a whore. Who did you use today, while I was out?”
“I was making a sale,” she said, her voice solid, no trace of regret.
Erin’s hands shook as she listened.
“It doesn’t matter.” Another crash, followed by a yelp from her mother. “It doesn’t matter at all. You’re no good at making sales. You’re no good at anything. You’re a fucking awful mother, a nothing girlfriend and a shitty business partner. You don’t deserve to stay here. You and that little brat of yours can hit the streets.”
Hot tears stung her cheeks.
“You’re a monster,” her mother shouted back defiantly, her voice shrill.
The sound of his fists whaling against her mother’s body and her screams. Erin looked around for an escape and considered the window. It was too risky at this point. She’d be heard and it was too late. She knew what was coming next.
“What did you need the money for?” he shouted. “What was it for?”
“She needs school supplies.” Her words were ragged now as she gasped for air. For the millionth time, she wished her mother would learn—or care—that whenever her daughter was mentioned, they both knew what was coming next. Her mother knew all right. She just didn’t care. After the divorce three years ago, she jumped from boyfriend to boyfriend and needle to needle. Somewhere along the way, she had stopped caring. Her crazy logic accepted that it was better that Erin take the beating than her.
In control more than a child should have to be, Erin dismissed the hurt and focused instead on survival. If nothing else, she would be a fighter. She would take whatever was coming and she would leave this place as soon as she was able.
Silence from the living room—a warning the impending storm. Heavy footsteps filled the hallway…
Shaking her head violently to end the flashback, Raven tried to slow her breathing. In the darkness of the bus, she cried silently for all she had seen, all she had lost and all she would never experience because of who she was—what she had gone through. Placing her hand over her heart, she felt the beat, strong and steady, reminding herself that she was not a tenderhearted being, nor would she ever be. The delicate flower had grown into a fully fledged warrior, ready for anything and ready to pick up the sword first, before another had a chance to arm themselves. The minute that she stopped being a valuable asset, she would be nothing. Everyone could and would, hurt her, given the chance. She wasn’t going to give anyone that opportunity.
“Never again,” she whispered to herself. “Never.”
No one had raised a hand to her in years, but that wasn’t the only way someone could come in and tear her down. There were plenty of other ways, and people were good at finding them if you gave them an opening. Her mother had proven as much. The woman never raised a hand to her, but destroyed her all the same.
Chris was a loving soul, but everyone was capable of selfishness, self-preservation, jealousy, weakness and mistrust. Everyone had the capacity to hurt someone—whether intentionally or unintentionally, and it was never worth the risk. She let out a sigh, wishing there was another way.
She stood, crumpling the empty bag in her hand and taking it to the trash can. She realized she was getting ahead of herself. No one had said anything and Chris had given no indication that she had feelings for her. Perhaps it was still fine.
Unsettled and standing in the middle of the darkened kitchen, she made a commitment to herself that she would let things go for the time being. When and if she needed to act, she wouldn’t look back. She had never been weakened by love, tainted by a too-soft heart and she wasn’t about to start now. She would handle this swiftly and decisively. For now, she would enjoy the gorgeous blonde in her bed.
Wiping her fingers off on a paper towel, she let her thoughts clear and channeled nothing but animalistic lust. When she made her way back into the bedroom, she stood momentarily, gazing at the beauty in her bed. Covered by a sheet, Chris looked at peace, with her blond hair tumbling over the pillow and her chest rising and falling evenly. Her full lips were turned up at one corner, a lazy smile that spoke volumes about the ecstasy and passion they had shared just hours before.
Chris’s relaxed natural beauty completely erased everything negative from Raven’s mind. Her doubts, her fears, her strategy, her demons, her worries all faded in an instant and she wanted nothing more than to feel the closeness of Chris’s skin. She glanced in the wall mirror, wiping away any smeared mascara and shed her clothes again, needing to feel the warmth of a naked embrace. As quietly as possible, she climbed into bed beside Chris and wrapped her arms around her.
“Mmm,” Chris let out a satisfied moan and wiggled back, closer into the embrace. Raven leaned forward, bringing her lips against her soft skin and kissing her neck, while she ran her fingers up and down Chris’s arms. She breathed in deeply, taking in the sweet scent of the beautiful woman beside her and let out a contented sigh.
She matched her breathing with Chris’s and continued to trail her hands over her body, the epitome of perfection. She kissed her way across Chris’s shoulders, smiling as she thought of how quick-witted and sassy she could be, how funny, smart and professional she was. Admirable traits that had magnetized Raven from the beginning, even more so than her incredible body with its enchanting curves, her boisterous laugh and piercing green eyes. Somehow, she had landed this incredible woman. She reminded herself that she had only landed her in her bed. Nothing more had been defined or discussed.
Fleeting, though it might be, it was magical. Raven reassured herself that, even if they had softened, her defenses were still intact. Raven wanted nothing but to get lost in the moment, to absorb every bit of Chris’s magic.
* * *
Frank paced outside Raven’s room, wishing he could barge in and tell her to get dressed and focus. Paul’s worries that had surfaced three days earlier in New York still plagued him, making it hard for him to sleep and even harder for him to turn a blind eye. There was little doubt that Paul, the one who knew her best, was right. In fact, his insights were spot-on and Frank knew it.
He shuddered thinking about how it would affect them all if she was left to her own devices in whatever was unfolding. Giggling and hushed whispers leaked through the doorway and he balled up his fist. Christina seemed to be a smart girl, but a smart girl would never have put herself into this position—knowing full well what Raven was capable of.
She had read the press. She had seen the headlines and gone through the files cover to cover. Frank knew she had, because they had discussed them in depth. Still, she had been stupid enough to jump at the attentions of a rock star and fall into bed with her. Particularly when she was her client.
The whole situation made him want to scream. This was supposed to be the move that saved Raven’s image. He glanced at Paul whipping up a smoothie in the kitchen. Paul raised an eyebrow in his direction and shr
ugged. Frank could almost hear his silent “I told you so.”
“What is that?” Frank asked. Its bright green color made his stomach churn, yet Paul whistled along as it whirred around the cup.
“Greens,” Paul said, offering a smug, chipper smile.
“Are you gloating?” Frank asked, narrowing his eyes at the scruffy hippie and marveling at all the sides of this kid. He was a rough-around-the-edges drummer who just happened to have a big heart. He was the one who was perfectly okay with chowing down on a greasy burger, yet consumed vile-looking green smoothies each morning. He was the ultimate contradiction, all wrapped into one insanely talented package, clad in a wife-beater and ripped jeans.
“Not at all,” he said, taking a big gulp of the pulpy mixture. “I wouldn’t gloat about something I worry about. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m just glad that you can finally see that my worries are warranted. I’m happy that, maybe, I’ll have someone else standing in my corner for this round of the fight.”
“I’m always in the corner that’s fighting for her,” Frank said, careful to keep his voice stern but low. “Don’t insinuate that I don’t care.”
“I didn’t insinuate anything,” Paul said, shrugging. “I just like knowing that you see it.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Your face gives you away, Frank,” he said, his voice nonchalant. “Maybe not to everyone. I’ve heard people say you’re hard to read, but I can see it. I can see the wrinkles in your forehead when you’re thinking and I can see the worry cloud your eyes, turning them darker. I can see you fidget when you know that we’re in a rough situation. I can read it and I am just happy that you finally see it all.”
Frank wanted to pop the kid on the chin. Paul was right and he was proving, once again, that he was far more nuanced than anyone gave him credit for. Frank had wanted to ignore what was happening, hoping it would fizzle out on its own. But nothing fizzled where Raven was concerned. Nothing was a half commitment. Either she was in, or she was out, and the results of getting out were always explosive. It was who she was. Sighing, he watched Paul drink his smoothie.