Cherry Beats

by Vicki James

  No one needed to hear that tonight.

  When I’d finished, Presley was quiet again. Eerily so. His silence was more powerful and frightening than his aggression.

  “Say something,” I urged.

  “But you still promised to never open the door to me again?”

  “I…” had nothing at all to say to that. “Yes.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  My head fell into the palm of my hand again. “Honestly?”

  “No, lie to me. Yes, honestly.”

  “I don’t know what the hell I want right now.”

  “At least that gives me something to work with. Now, I’m going to ask you to do me a favour.”

  “What kind of favour?”

  “If Dicky, my publicist Julia, or anyone at all asks if you told me any of this, you’re going to say no.”

  “Why?” I whispered.

  “Because you just broke my fucking heart a little bit, Cherry. I think it’s the least you owe me, don’t you?”

  My own heart cracked hearing the pain in his voice, but I nodded anyway, even though he couldn’t see it.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m not feeling too great right now, either, Presley.”

  “You know what your trouble is? You’re no good at being this girl—the girl who feels something good. You’re happy being the girl who jokes behind the bar, sure. The one who can look from afar, but always has a barrier between her and everyone else. The girl who watches everyone else get what they want. You’re even good at being the girl who walks around my apartment naked, talking about music and having a one-night thing. You’re good at temporary happiness, Cherry, but you’re shit at thinking about what might happen if someone chases you for more. You’ve never had it. You don’t know how to have it. You sure as shit can’t even begin to imagine letting yourself fall for someone properly because the last thing you want to be is like your own father—so wrapped up in love and being obsessed with someone, you can’t see who the hell you are anymore.”

  He may as well have punched me in the stomach. I was that winded.

  “And yeah, sure, I could go out into the world and get someone else. Hell, there are a hundred girls in this hotel room right now willing to fall to their knees and take turns at sucking my dick.”

  “Presley—” I croaked weakly.

  “But they don’t match up to what I see in you. They don’t have your shy-but-somehow-cocky smile or those bright green eyes that make my dick harden the second I look into them. They don’t have your sass, your wit, or your intelligence. They can’t hold a breath never mind a damn conversation the way you can. They don’t hold my interest. They don’t make me want to stay because they don’t taste like you, they don’t smell like you, they don’t quiver and tremble like you. They don’t moan like you, and they sure as hell don’t feel like you when I’m inside them. So, if you want me to keep hunting, searching through hundreds more of these women until I find someone that even comes close to making my mind explode the way you do, I’ll keep trying. I’ll never knock on your damn door again. You’ll never have to answer anything from me. Or you can finally just give in and accept the fact that, three years ago, you had one night to make me feel something more than I’ve ever felt with any other woman in my life, and you went and did it. I fucking feel something. I feel everything. I’ve not been shy about that. In fact, I feel so strongly about you that I actually respect you, and, if you wanted it enough, I’d walk away from you just to keep you happy. I’m already doing that right now, aren’t I? Leaving you the other night damn near broke me, so you don’t get to sit in that apartment of yours, second-guessing my intentions, my emotions, or thinking up of plans to keep me away, or thinking you know me better than I know me… because you don’t. You never will. Every word I speak is the truth, and it’s about time you believed that.”

  Fuck.

  “The ball’s in your court, Cherry. But I’m warning you… I’ll only keep trying for so long.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Something honest. You let me know when you figure out what that is. Your move.” And with that, he ended the call, just as the first stupid tear feel down my red cheek and bled over the lip of my mouth.

  Goddamn drummer boy with his poetic words, hands of destruction, and that honest heart I somehow held the key to.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Something honest. Right. I could do that. I went through a list of truths in my mind.

  Who hangs up on a woman after just saying those things to her? An arsehole, that’s who. And that who is YOU, Presley West.

  You’re a shrivelled dick for saying that I’m scared of being like my dad. Correct. But still a shrivelled dick. How did you figure that out before I had?

  I once put vinegar in one of your date’s wine glass, and then I watched every sip she took, and I laughed inside every time she curled her nose up at you, and you frowned back, totally confused as to what her deal was. That was a fun night.

  But every time you left BB’s with a woman, a little piece of me would die inside.

  When you were warming up for basketball practice at school once, you were the only person on the court, and you didn’t know this, but I was leaning against the wall, peeking around the corner just watching you as you closed your eyes and stretched out all your muscles. It looked like you didn’t want or need anyone else around. You looked so peaceful, and all I did was pray that my thoughts could be whispered to you in private.

  I’ve had so many dreams about you that I forget what’s real and what’s not.

  Sometimes it’s easier to run away from what you want because you don’t know how you’re going to hold onto it forever once you have it in your arms.

  I’m scared of the hate I’ll get for loving you.

  Did you know that when you’re inside me, it’s like Bryan Adams doesn’t even exist?

  All the things I wanted to say but never would.

  I hated the way truths hurt like bullets sometimes. It took me thirty minutes of staring at my phone and controlling my shaking hands and thudding heart to find the courage to text him.

  Me: I’m sorry. Everything I do seems to end up hurting someone. You. Molly. Me…

  No response came, so I waited five minutes before I found my fingers moving across the phone screen again.

  Me: And you were right. I am scared of something… Everything, actually. I don’t know how to be brave for myself. I’ve never really had anything good all to myself before.

  No response again.

  Me: Thinking about you like this makes me want to start touching myself, just so I can stop thinking so hard for one lousy second.

  Presley: FaceTime me.

  Me: I thought you were ignoring me.

  Presley: I was.

  Presley: I can resist a lot of things, but not the mental image you just planted in my head of you touching yourself.

  Me: What if it wasn’t just a mental image? What if I found my bravery?

  Presley: I’m listening.

  Me: If I was the one who knocked on your door, technically, that wouldn’t be breaking any of the rules that were set, right?

  Presley: If it were up to me, those rules and that game wouldn’t even exist. I hate that motherfucking game.

  Me: Then, as ruler of that world, I say that no terms would be breached if I knocked on your door...

  Me: Tonight.

  Me: Wherever you may be.

  Me: If that’s what you want.

  Me: Unless you’re still mad at me.

  Me: In which case, I’ll leave all the doors alone and let that long line of women start falling to their knees for you and your dick.

  Me: No pressure.

  Me: You do you.

  Me: Or me. That’s what I’d prefer.

  Me: I’m so bad at this.

  The bubble appeared and disappeared several times before I finally got a response.

  Presley: I thought your stubborn little arse wo
uld at least take a day before I heard from you.

  Me: What can I say? I’m that desperate to make sure you’re not mad at me.

  Presley: Mad? I’m fucking raging.

  Me: Then let me make it up to you.

  The bubble appeared and disappeared again.

  Presley: I’ll send a car. Be ready in fifteen minutes.

  The second I’d made the decision to be brave, a weight was lifted from my shoulders. Funny how that happened—how when faced with doing the thing I’d been most scared of, I actually somehow felt lighter. On a path. The course set for me, and the decisions I’d had to make somehow lost to the past.

  Tiptoeing around Molly was easy as I threw a few essentials into a bag. There was no point in waking her. When Molly was this sound asleep, not even an earthquake could disturb her slumber. I went out into the living room and wrote her a note explaining that I was an idiot who couldn’t sleep and had to get out of the apartment. I’d call her tomorrow—today, whatever time it was in the middle of the damn night now, and all she had to do was leave and lock up behind her when she left.

  As promised, a car came to collect me. I wasn’t sure what I expected. Some English gent in a black suit, white shirt, black tie, and fancy hat like I was in a Pretty Woman movie or something. What I got, however, was a different story entirely. A silver Audi R8 came flying down the deadly quiet street, crawling to a slow stop when he saw me standing at the side of the road like a prostitute. Maybe I was channelling Pretty Woman without realising it.

  The window rolled down, and an older, attractive man wearing a brown bomber jacket leaned over and peered up at me.

  “You Cherry?”

  “It’s a nickname.” I cringed. “Tess,” I introduced myself.

  “Didn’t need to know that.” He grinned, his teeth pearly white, making his whole face light up. “Hop in.”

  I did, sliding into the compact space as carefully as I could and clutching my bag to my chest.

  “Seatbelt on.”

  “Sure.” I nodded, fixing it in place.

  The man was holding the steering wheel with one hand while his other rested on the gear stick. I glanced his way, taking a peek at him, only to see that he was very much invested in staring at me, too. Man, he was attractive. Older, but attractive. His dark hair was long, falling just below his ears in natural waves that any woman would envy—very Bradley Cooper in A Star is Born, which instantly made me think of the band’s very own Coops, too. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, and I concentrated on my driver again. Brown eyes shone back at me, and I found myself smiling at this somewhat familiar stranger I’d just climbed into a car with.

  “So, you’re the girl he’s completely obsessed with?” He grinned knowingly.

  “I am?” I scowled, twisting my lips and pulling back my smile. “I made that sound like a question, didn’t I?”

  “Yep. Probably best to ditch that and just own it. Presley hates any kind of…”

  “Mask?”

  “Mask.” He nodded slowly.

  “You sound like you know a lot about him.”

  “I should. I’m his uncle.”

  Uncle? He hadn’t mentioned an uncle to me.

  “On his Mum’s side, or on his…?”

  “On his dad’s. Fuck that wife of his. Never really liked her much, but Presley’s dad was besotted with her, so what can you do but let love play out, hey?”

  I blanched, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Nothing, I guess.”

  “Dexter,” he said, offering his hand for me to shake. “Uncle Dex, as Presley calls me.”

  I shook his hand firmly. “He called you to come and get me?”

  “This isn’t the worst thing he’s asked me to do, believe me. Can’t say I mind. I miss the little fucker when he’s off travelling around the world. I’m a needy uncle, what can I say?”

  “Well, thank you,” I said softly. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something about Dexter that made me feel safe and calm when I should have been feeling anything but that with a stranger in the middle of the night.

  He laughed and gave me a swift nod before he checked his mirrors and pulled back out onto the road, switching between looking out through the windshield and over at me. He looked like he wanted to either make a statement or ask me a question.

  “Spit it out,” I eventually sighed.

  Dexter laughed roughly, his head tilting back as he held the wheel loosely. “Intuitive. I like it.”

  “It’s not difficult to see when someone’s biting their tongue so hard. Clamp it any harder, and blood will start gushing out. I’ll warn you, though, I have a weak stomach when it comes to blood. Don’t blame me if I faint, or worse, end up barfing in your very fancy car.”

  “Presley said you were fiery. It’s good. He needs someone with balls to keep him on the straight and narrow in a world that’s trying to make him bend.”

  I let his words wash over me as I stared at him, not saying anything in response. The car bobbed over the pothole-ridden streets, making me sway from side to side ever so slightly as I waited for him to go on.

  “You seen him lately?” he asked abruptly, taking a quick glance my way.

  “The other day.”

  “And how did he seem? Any different to you?”

  “He seemed… tired.”

  “Yeah.” Dexter sighed, nodding his agreement. “Yeah, the kid seems tired.”

  I shifted in my seat, turning to face him. “Are you worried about him?”

  “Always.”

  “I mean, are you worried about him and how he’s coping on the road? With the band? With the fame?”

  Dexter took another glance at me, the streetlights flashing over his face as we travelled down a long, straight road. “It’s a lot for any man to take. I was worried—until he told me about you.”

  “Me?”

  He looked back out through the windshield. “Just watch him, Tess. See what you think. And watch all those creepy men in suits who hover around him. He’s a proud kid. He’s gone through a lot of shit in his life. Shit, he probably hasn’t even told anyone, not even those friends he’s had his whole life. There’s a reason he started drumming. There’s a reason he needed to hit things to survive. There’s a reason music was the thing to save his life.” With one last glance my way, he spoke his last words on the matter. “He needs more people to remind him to remember that his life is good and that he matters—more people like you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The lift pinged, making me blink as we arrived at the top floor. Dex typed in a code, scanned a card through some kind of swiping device, and then the doors opened up slowly. We were greeted by two beefy security guards who looked like WWE’s version of the Men in Black. Their heads were bigger than my torso, and the muscles that strained against their black suits must have been squealing to be set free.

  “Gents,” Dexter said, grabbing my hand and walking out into the corridor without a care in the world.

  “Uncle Dex.” They both greeted him in their deep, baritone voices.

  We arrived outside two double doors at the end of the hall. I could already hear the music playing behind them. It was loud, inconsiderate, and heavy—hard rock music that demanded you respected it. The floors were practically shaking, and the atmosphere was bursting through the cracks of the door.

  “Don’t be sick,” Dexter whispered jovially before he pressed a number into a little security pad on the wall. Something clicked or unlocked, and he swung a door open, revealing a world I never could have imagined.

  There were women everywhere. Some were wearing clothes, while others were walking around the hot hotel room in nothing more than their bikinis. Every single one of them was absolutely stunning. The kind of women you’d expect to see on the cover of Playboy in one corner, while the more sophisticated Vogue style beauties were sitting around a table smoking, blowing puffs of smoke into the air with their legs crossed and their eyes narrowed. A few men were scattered arou
nd, but most of them were either smoking something that was tripping them out, snorting something that didn’t belong up their noses, or looking down at their phones.

  As soon as they saw me, they looked my way—all eyes on me.

  “You should breathe before you turn the same colour as your hair,” Dexter whispered in my ear.

  “I’m fine,” I croaked back, glancing around at all the wolf eyes that were now staring right at me. “Not freaked out. Not at all feeling awkward knowing everyone is looking at me.”

  “When you’re effortlessly pretty, it’s infuriating as shit to those who have to work for it.”

  I blushed immediately but raised my chin in defiance, and a little bit of pride.

  Dex chuckled as he guided us to the left of the room—a room that was at least ten times bigger than my entire home. “Come on, let’s get you to the real party.”

  I looked back over my shoulder at the people we were walking away from. “Aren’t they with the band?”

  “They wish they were.”

  Just when I thought there was nowhere else to go, Dex took another left. The room opened up again. More tables, sofas, and wasted carpeted floor space. My mouth dropped open as I looked around me, lost in the luxury of it all.