Dating Him: The Series

by Michelle MacQueen

  “Has she contacted you?”

  He couldn’t lie to his sister even though it would be so much easier. “I haven’t talked to her, but she’s been trying to get in touch with me through Sky.”

  She nodded as if she’d already known that and went to sit on the couch. “So, while I’ve been searching for her for the past year, you could have just talked to her any time?”

  He knew the tone in her voice. Wylder didn’t have a temper. She didn’t explode. Instead, her anger simmered until it corroded everything inside her.

  He dropped onto the couch beside her. “What do you mean you’ve been looking for her? A year, Wylds? Really?”

  She let her head fall back and stared at the ceiling. “Who else was going to do it? Please, tell me. She sure as hell wasn’t going to come back to us on her own.”

  “Why does she need to be found?”

  Wylder snapped her eyes to his. “I don’t know. Maybe because she’s our mother. She used to come see us. A lot.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Dad admitted it. He forced her to leave and paid her to never come back.”

  The same thing Becks had done. He didn’t know whether to applaud his mother for knowing how to play her ex-husband and son or to feel sorry for her that the people who should care wanted her gone enough to pay for it.

  “You did it too, didn’t you?” She turned, pulling her legs up under her. “You paid her.”

  He shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do?”

  “Um, I don’t know. Try to help her? Convince her to come see us? Basically anything except telling her to stay gone.”

  He reached for his sister’s hand, but she tore it away. “Wylds, the last time she talked to my assistant, she was out of her mind high.”

  That seemed to deflate her anger. “I’ve spent so long searching for her, terrified what I might find. I missed too many classes to make up—”

  “That’s why you couldn’t pass junior year? You were wasting time on that … addict?”

  She nodded and went on. “But I’ve found her now.” She pushed out a breath. “And she’s sober. She’s been sober for a while.”

  Those words hit Becks with the force of a truck. His mother was sober. Could he believe it? “How do you know?”

  “I went to see her. She’s living in a little house in Cincinnati.”

  Becks stood, turning away from his sister as his mind worked furiously. He had few memories associated with his mother—none of them good. There was the time she’d taken him and Wylder with her to the park. They’d thought it was to play, but she’d only been meeting her dealer. She shot up right there in front of them and passed out on a bench.

  One of the hardware store customers found Becks wandering down the street holding his sister’s hand and took them home.

  Becks was six. Their dad had been searching for them for hours after an ambulance took their mother to the hospital. It was the last straw for him. He sent their mother to rehab, telling her not to return until she was sober.

  Every time she’d come back, the cloud of drugs veiled her eyes.

  But Wylder was too young to remember that. She didn’t know that kind of fear.

  “Why are you here, Wylder?” He’d asked the question before, but he didn’t believe she’d driven all this way just to tell him she’d found their mother.

  “She wants to see you.”

  He paced the length of the room and turned. “Are you serious?” He laughed humorlessly. “She wants to see me? Right.”

  “She said the words herself.”

  “Probably wants to see my money. Don’t fool yourself, sis. That woman cares nothing for her children.”

  “What happened to you, Becks?” Her voice took on a sad note. “Has Nashville really changed you this much? You sound… cold. The brother I knew in Twin Rivers never went an hour without smiling. He made everyone feel like they mattered. You were the kindest among us.”

  “I was an idiot.” It was true. No one would have ever called him smart. They loved his music and his pretty face. He could charm anyone. And he’d used that to get ahead in this business.

  But what did it get him? Fans he had to lie to? A label who forced him into terrible situations? A mother who was no mother?

  And feelings he didn’t want.

  “Is this about Nicky?” The question was so sudden he hadn’t been expecting it.

  “No,” he scoffed. “It’s about me.” That wasn’t a lie exactly. In part, everything was about Nicky lately. But more than that, it had to do with Becks figuring out who he was and who he wanted to be.

  “I want you to see Mom.” Wylder approached him. “But I understand if you can’t. I just needed to tell you she’s ready for us.” Slipping her arms around his waist, she peered up at him. “As for the other thing, you realize I love you no matter what, right?”

  He held back the tears threatening to break free and wrapped his arms around her. “I wasn’t exactly telling the truth. It’s a little about Nicky.”

  “I know.”

  Mom is sober.

  Those words bounced around Becks’ brain as he ducked into an alcove outside the hotel. People were lined up down the block, waiting for the doors to open. The anti-hate rally was an annual event in Nashville, drawing performers and speakers from across the country. Beckett hadn’t looked at the list of this year’s speakers, but he’d been asked to perform last minute—probably due to his current status of gay icon of country music.

  And he was nothing but a fraud.

  Mom is sober.

  What would it be like to see her again? Did she watch her son lie to the entire world and believe the words he said?

  Would she be disappointed?

  He hated that he cared.

  Becks knew one person who’d be mad. Nari. Because he was half an hour late. Wylder dropped him off out front before driving toward the parking garage. If he’d been with his driver, they’d have known where the back entrance was.

  Instead, he stood among a sea of people who’d probably go bonkers if they recognized him. Pulling his hat down lower on his head, Beckett slid the hood of his black jacket up over it. He wore oversized glasses Nicky would have made fun of him for. Darting around the corner, he tried to keep to the shadows.

  If his mind had been in a better place, he’d have laughed at himself. Instead, it was just sad.

  At the entrance, men in black suits guarded the doors. He needed to slip past them without being seen. If they recognized him, the crowd would demand the smiling good boy of country he wasn’t ready to give them.

  “Excuse me,” he mumbled when he bumped into a looming man.

  The man only stared him down. Becks backed away, ducking behind one of the pillars lining the walkway. He pressed himself up against it, breathing heavily. This stealth stuff was not for him.

  He was about to move again, when the crackle of a radio alerted him to a guard’s presence. “Have you found him?”

  “Not yet,” the nearby guard responded.

  Becks stood impossibly still and closed his eyes, waiting for them to pass. They probably didn’t even know who he was. If he revealed himself now, it would only cause pandemonium.

  The breath rushed out of him when a large body slammed into his side, knocing him to the ground. Others moved in, surrounding him.

  “Stay down,” the guard on top of him yelled.

  “What did I do?” Becks wheezed. “Can’t. Breathe.”

  The man let up but only a little. “You’re coming with us.” He searched Becks’ body with his hands, probably looking for weapons.

  “Hey,” Becks yelped. “Getting a little personal there.”

  The guards ignored him as they hauled him to his feet. The eyes of the crowd followed them in curiosity rather than the adoration Becks was used to.

  “If you wanted a date, big guy, all you had to do was ask.” Becks stumbled as they pushed him toward the hotel entrance. “Sorry, I don’t get h
otel rooms with people I just met.” A woman stood inside the doors, her black hair tied into a bun. “Unless it’s her.”

  “Shut up.” The guard shoved him forward. Outside, people tried to peer into windows to watch what was happening in the quiet lobby. Black-clad men and women flooded the room with their presence. Beckett couldn’t remember this many guards at any event he’d ever performed at.

  And why would they care about him?

  They led him around the reception desk, pushing him into an office. Another guard led a similarly frazzled man from the room.

  “Explain yourself.” Two imposing men faced him, their arms crossed.

  “Me? You’re the ones who just abducted me.” He ripped the hat from his head and the sunglasses from his face. “I was just trying to go unseen.”

  “Young man, you were skulking in the shadows looking like some kind of troublemaker.”

  “Troublemaker? Me? I didn’t want my fans to go nuts seeing me.”

  “Fans,” big man number one scoffed. “Right.”

  “You don’t recognize me?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “I do,” a third voice came from the doorway where a young man gripped the frame in excitement. “Beckett Anderson.” His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

  “Ash.” One of the men sighed. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

  The young man eyed both guards. “I can be anywhere I’d like. I was looking for my sister.”

  “She was by the entrance.”

  The woman Becks saw on his way in? He could see the resemblance now. Smooth dark skin and curly black hair.

  Ash rushed into the room. “I can’t believe I get to meet you, Beckett. When I heard you’d been added to the program, I just… Okay, I may have squealed a bit. I’m your biggest fan.” He sucked in air like he’d just run a marathon.

  Becks didn’t know how to take this man, but he did know he was his way out. “Well, biggest fan, can you call off the dogs? I’m late to meet my band.”

  “They won’t bother you anymore. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” He held out his hand. “Asher Brooks. It would be my pleasure to escort you to the dressing rooms.” The kid spoke like he was a thousand years old.

  “Wait, Asher Brooks as in President Brooks?”

  Asher nodded. “Guilty. First kid at your service.”

  “So…” He pointed to the guards. “These are—”

  “Secret service. Don’t worry, though, I call them dogs all the time.” He stuck out his lip as he grinned at his men. “You’re good dogs though.”

  They shot him indulgent scowls.

  “Come on.” Asher led Becks back out into the lobby. “The rally is in the grand ballroom. There are dressing rooms toward the back.” He pushed through a doorway, seemingly oblivious to the secret service agents on their tail.

  How did Becks get here, walking side by side with the president’s son?

  The ballroom stretched out before them with grand gilded columns and a balcony wrapping around the upper levels. TV cameras had been set up on the balcony to broadcast the rally. Becks swallowed heavily.

  He’d lied to so many people, but this was different. Here, he was supposed to stand up on stage to fight for people who were supposedly just like him. And yet… Were they?

  “I didn’t lie when I said I was your biggest fan.” Asher grinned sideways.

  Becks tried to recall everything he’d read about the kid. Seventeen. Gay. Artist. That was all he knew.

  Asher continued. “You’re paving the way for so many people. What you’re doing is brave. I know how cliché that sounds, and I hate it when people say that to me. But, I can’t tell you how much it means to me and countless others, to see someone like us on stage.” He stopped at a closed door. “We don’t have long before the rally starts, so I’ll leave you here. But I’m going to find you after.” He shot Becks one final smile before walking away.

  The door opened, revealing a frazzled Nari. “Oh, thank heavens.” Grabbing Beckett’s arm, she yanked him inside. “We don’t have much time, thanks to you. Strip.”

  He did as she said. Quinn and Harrison only watched in amusement as Nari got Becks ready for their performance. They’d been asked to sing two songs. One of them was called “Just Like Me.” It celebrated being different and embracing who you were.

  Something Becks had yet to do.

  By the time the rally started and they were called to the stage, Becks was ready to jump out of his skin. He’d never been so nervous about any performance. For weeks, he’d played this role of gay singer in love with his old friend.

  But now, he was supposed to stand in front of his fans, facing them as he lied.

  Each part of his life collided as he stepped up to the microphone.

  “Mom is sober.”

  “It’s about Nicky.”

  “You’re paving the way for so many people.”

  He closed his eyes, letting all his feelings pool in the fingertips currently plucking the strings of his guitar.

  He liked to think he didn’t care what his mother thought of him. But maybe she’d be proud.

  Nicky would come back to him. He’d let Becks figure out just what it was between them. He wasn’t the kind to write someone off.

  And yes, he was paving the way.

  Because Beckett Anderson stood on the stage at an anti-hate rally finally ready to see who he was.

  He leaned in to the mic. “Hello, Nashville.”

  They cheered. Some chanted his name and held up rainbow flags. He smiled at the sight. “I’m Beckett Anderson. Now that I’m here, this party can start. I love you guys.” He flashed them a brilliant smile.

  Harrison counted out beats on the drums before the rest of them joined in, playing Beckett’s newest song, “Just Like Me.”

  Becks sang like everything in his life was dependent on that one song. The crowd picked up the chorus and sang it along with him.

  As soon as the band finished their second song, the stage manager rushed them off to prepare for the next act.

  Becks found Asher waiting at the side of the stage.

  “That was amazing.” Asher wiped a tear from his eye. “That song.”

  Becks grabbed Asher’s arm, but dropped it when a secret service agent moved in. “Come with me.”

  Asher nodded, giving his secret service a signal to let them know he was okay. Becks entered the dressing room and shut the door as soon as Asher was through.

  “Look, kid,” he started. “I can’t be your role model.”

  Asher’s smile dropped. “I never said you were my role model. I said you were blazing a trail, and you are.”

  Becks sighed. He didn’t know why the honest, open face of Asher Brooks hit him so hard. He’d been lying to people for a while now, but being face to face with someone taking hope from his lies made it impossible to keep going.

  Asher’s eyes softened in sympathy. “Did you and Nicky break up?”

  It was a personal question from a complete stranger, yet it constricted something inside him. “No.”

  “I know you don’t know me, and I know people don’t think they can approach me because of who I am…but you look like someone who has been hurt.”

  “It wasn’t real!” The words burst out of Becks. He sank onto the red velvet couch along the wall and buried his head in his hands. “None of it was real.”

  Asher shifted between his feet. “I…um…” The eloquent teen was at a loss for words.

  Way to go, Becks, he thought. Ruining kids.

  After a long moment, Asher dropped down beside him. “I won’t begin to try to understand what that means…”

  “I’m not gay.” There, he’d said it. He was out of the closet, a straight man. Right?

  Asher pinched his lips together. “Okay.”

  Becks sighed. “I asked him to pretend. After I kissed him at the music festival, I couldn’t very well tell the world I hadn’t meant it. They were already writing our love st
ory.”

  “Why not?”

  “What?”

  “Why couldn’t you tell the world?”

  Becks shrugged. “My career, man. I’d have been torched.”

  “I gotta admit. I kind of feel like you just told me Santa isn’t real.” His shoulders slumped.

  The door to the dressing room burst open, and Nari rushed in, the excitement from the performance still on her face. Her eyes widened when she saw who Becks was with.

  Asher recovered quickly. “Nari Won Song.” He stuttered over her name. “You…you’re…” He blew out a breath, his cheeks going red. “Kind of amazing.”

  A slow smile spread across her face. “Thank you. I’m going to go find Sofie. Quinn and Harrison are hanging backstage and could probably use something to drink.” She backed out of the room.

  Asher whistled. “She’s so talented. I can’t believe I’m sitting here with Beckett Anderson right now. Or that I just met Nari Won Song.”

  Star struck teens weren’t anything new to Becks, but this wasn’t just any teen. “Don’t you spend your life meeting important people? I wouldn’t think we’d be anything special to you.”

  “How do you define important, Beckett?”

  Becks shrugged and perched on the arm of the couch. “People who do amazing things, things that matter.”

  “And you don’t think the music matters?”

  “It does to me. But it won’t put food in mouths or save lives.”

  Asher jumped off the couch and walked forward, his back to Becks. He rested his hands on his head. “I came out to my family when I was thirteen. It was both the hardest and easiest thing I’d ever done. One on hand, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” He turned. “Do you know how powerful that is? To understand exactly who you are and to choose not to be ashamed of it? But there will always be people telling me who I am is wrong. My parents fight for equality for all people, but that’s what it is. A fight.”

  He lowered his arms, crossing them over his chest as he stared down at Beckett.

  How did Becks get here? Two years ago, he came to Nashville as a single face among the hordes of people with dreams of music careers. Now, he sat in front of the president’s son, shrinking under his young gaze.