Cherry Beats

by Vicki James

  “Do you think we could make a quick detour?”

  He side-eyed me, jutting his chin out, waiting for me to go on.

  “I just want to drive past my parents’ house quickly.”

  “Now?”

  I nodded and sniffed back my emotion. “Yeah,” I said, staring into his familiar kind eyes. “That okay?”

  “Like I said. Anything you want.”

  I was soon giving Dex directions on how to get to my parents’ house on an estate most of Hollings Hill would never have admitted to living on. It was rough—a council estate that had been ravaged by the youth of today and bone-idle people like my father who expected the world and all its animals to clean up after him.

  When we turned up to Bourne Mount, I realised I was more nervous being there than I ever had been going to stand in front of Presley, even with the madness of his rock star life around him.

  On the way over, I thought about getting out of the car, walking up my parents’ pathway, letting myself inside and demanding that they talk some sense into Freddie. I pondered the idea that they could have some compassion for me, and that if I told them what Janey Dominic and the media could be like, they’d side with their daughter.

  Unfortunately, those thoughts went to shit the moment we pulled onto the street they lived on and saw the street party going on in front of us. Music boomed from huge speakers, filling the air like noise pollution wasn’t a consideration for any of them. I searched through the crowd of people, only to see that slap bang in the centre of the madness stood my own mother. She was dancing to Presley’s song with one arm in the air, the other hitching up her skirt—the centre of attention. Her hair had been curled, and her ruby red lips could be seen even from where we were sitting in the car.

  I gripped Dex’s wrist automatically, asking him to stop. He did, leaving the engine running while I stared at the madness ahead, illuminated by the streetlights above each and every one of them. Dad was sitting on the small bricked wall outside their home, his hands gripping a can of lager, like always, and his eyes narrowed at Mum. He looked miserable while she looked happier than I’d ever seen her in my entire life.

  Both their joy and misery were because of me.

  Whoever I tried to please, I’d disappoint the other.

  They’d never agree to help me now. I was on my own with only Molly and Bourbon in my corner.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said to Dex quietly, blinking back the unshed tears, determined not to let a single one slip free. “Turn around, Dex.”

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look away from me, and he didn’t move the steering wheel.

  As if noticing the gleaming pair of headlights that were paused on her street, Mum slowed down her dance, brushed some stray strands of hair away from her face, and she turned to face the out of place Range Rover. A slow, insidious smile spread across her face, and even though I knew she couldn’t see me, it felt like she knew who was sitting in this car.

  “Please, Dex. Turn around. I want to go home.”

  “Home?” he whispered.

  I looked at him. “To Presley.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I couldn’t change my family.

  I could change the way I reacted to them.

  I could also take charge of my own happiness for the first time in my life.

  I text Molly to let her know of Freddie’s antics, only to receive a GIF response of a cartoon cat flashing its claws. Such a simple reply. Such a powerful statement from a woman I couldn’t ever imagine living without.

  Presley was standing in the main suite with the other members of the band around him when we returned. There were no partiers there that night. No rock chicks hanging on their arms or wannabe porn stars trying to get close. It was just the guys, but something about the atmosphere when I walked into the suite made my spine tense.

  They’d been drinking. At least, I assumed that’s what they’d been doing until I looked at Rhett who shifted in his seat on the sofa, running his hand under his nose before he crossed his legs and looked out of the window across London. The other men didn’t glance my way. Presley was standing there wearing nothing more than jeans that hung perfectly off his hips, and a black vest that hung low under his armpits and showed off way more skin than it covered.

  “Hi,” I said with a soft smile the moment he turned my way.

  Presley’s eyes narrowed like he could sense something bad had happened, but he didn’t focus on me for long before he was glancing behind me and staring at Uncle Dex. With a raise of his brow, he questioned him. Dex simply placed my bags down by my feet, groaning as he straightened up.

  “I think she’s got enough here to see her through for a few weeks,” Dex told Presley.

  “Everything go okay?” Presley asked, his footing off when he turned to face us fully.

  “Sure.” I was too high pitched, and it immediately made it sound like a lie.

  “When do you need me again, kid? I’ve got a few things going on over the next couple of days.” Dex stood taller, pushing his thumbs into the belt on his jeans as he looked up at his nephew.

  “You got a woman on the scene, Uncle Dex?”

  “You think you’re the only lothario around here? Where do you think you got your charm from? It sure as shit wasn’t your old man,” Dex said through a warm smile.

  Presley’s face fell for just a moment before he ran the back of his hand over his forehead and laughed. “Guess not.”

  “So, do you need me?”

  “Nope. We’re good. Go, get yourself laid.” Presley winked, moving closer to me before he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and tugged me against his warm body.

  “Mind your manners,” Uncle Dex hit back. “You have fun, Tess. Don’t let his ego ruin you.”

  Too late for that, I thought, although Presley’s ego hadn’t been the thing to ruin me at all. As far as I could see, Presley didn’t even have one. It was everything else about him that had destroyed me for anyone else. The memories, the connection, his body, those kisses… them piercing blue eyes and the way he looked at me like I was the greatest thing he could hold in his hands besides a pair of drumsticks.

  “I’ll keep him on the straight and narrow, Uncle Dex,” I teased. Dex simply nodded, and I thought he was about to turn and leave when he chucked his chin and gestured to the door.

  “Presley? A quick word before I go?”

  Presley tensed in my arms before he slipped out from our embrace and followed his uncle out of the suite… leaving me with four international superstars I barely knew, and nowhere else to turn.

  When I spun around to look at them, Rhett’s face was alight, his forehead covered with moisture and his hair scraped back away from his face. Whenever I was in front of him like this, an unfamiliar urge to cover my body with my arms took over me. Rhett had a way of undressing you with his eyes, except it wasn’t your skin he want to see… it was all the dirty parts of your soul.

  “Hey, Red. Why don’t you come and take a seat?” Rhett offered, patting the space on the sofa beside him.

  “Don’t start, prick. Leave her alone,” Hawk butted in as he leaned over the coffee table and began to deal out a pack of cards. An already half-finished cigarette hung from his lips, the smoke rising over his face and making his eyes narrow as he glanced up at me. “You want in, Cherry?”

  “What you playing?” I moved closer.

  “Poker.”

  “The same game Pres will be playing with you once he gets you alone in that room of his,” Rhett chipped in.

  “Shut the fuck up, man.” Hawk reached across to slap Rhett on the arm.

  “Come on. Just because there’s a regular piece of arse on the scene now, I suddenly have to become respectful and chivalrous.”

  “You’re such a dick tonight.” Hawk shook his head.

  “Why? Because I’m refusing to change my ways just because there’s a chick on the scene?”

  “Typical frontman. Always the diva.” Hawk
sighed.

  “Yeah, and you’re just jealous because I’m the one saying fuck that noise. We had a deal… all of us, and someone’s breaking it. I’m letting that slide, but I am who I am, and if Red here doesn’t like it, she knows where the door is.” Rhett stared at me, his irritating smirk reminding me of Freddie’s and all the shit he’d already thrown at me that night. “Sorry, sweetheart, but if you want to really live your life with the band, you’re going to have to take me as I am or walk the fuck away. Choice is yours.”

  “Are you trying to intimidate me, Rhett?” I asked abruptly, crossing my arms over my chest and staring at him. “Make me feel uncomfortable. Hope I’ll find you too much to handle and run away to hide in my room. Maybe get so isolated in there that I dream of going home and leaving you guys behind. Is that the plan? To find a way to get rid of me so I’m not the problem you think I’m going to be for the band?”

  Rhett laughed, opened his mouth to say something, and quickly shut it again when I cut him off.

  “If it is, it sucks. Big time.” I smiled flatly and raised my brows. “I’m really sorry to tell you, but I’ve been around drunks and egos a long time now, Rhett. I’ve worked with them for years, served them, smiled sweetly while wanting to jab them in the eyes with my thumbs, and I’ve still gone home every night feeling relaxed as all hell. So, if you think you scare me, you don’t. You might think you should, and you might even be able to manipulate some of the bikini-clad beauties around here with one of your…” I unfolded my arms and flashed him my jazz hands, “smouldering smirks and I-may-fuck-you glares, but to me, you’re just a regular guy who happens to sing for a living and look good on stage doing it. I admire you and what you do, but that can change. Believe me when I tell you that there’s no quip you can make, no sarcastic comment you can throw at me, and no threat you can dish out that I haven’t heard before.” I took a step closer, moving myself to stand over the coffee table they were all sitting around. Dropping my hands to the surface of it, I leaned over and whispered directly at Rhett, “And if you think me being here is just a game you can play, you might want to reconsider. If you’re wanting someone to fuck with, go ahead, but know for damn sure that you picked the wrong night to try and fuck with me.”

  You could have cut the tense silence with a knife as we stared at one another

  “Woah,” Coops eventually cried in appreciation, showing the most personality I’d ever seen from him.

  “You sure as shit weren’t expecting that, Rhett,” Big D chuckled.

  “No. No, I wasn’t,” Rhett mumbled quietly, his eyes narrowing as his smile grew. Raising a brow, I stared at him, unblinking, wanting him to know I wasn’t going to back down.

  “What’s going on here?” Presley asked roughly. I hadn’t even heard him come back into the room, and his hands went to my back as I began to straighten up.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” I assured him, never taking my eyes from Rhett.

  “Is this arsehole giving you shit?”

  “Like she said, man… it’s clearly nothing she can’t handle,” Rhett answered for me. He lowered himself back into the plush cushions of the sofa, sniffing up once before he turned to look back out over London with a cocky smirk on his face.

  I’d always admired him from what I’d seen of him on the television or heard on the radio, and I knew Presley was loyal to his band mates, but something about the way Rhett was trying to press all my buttons made me uneasy.

  “You guys playing poker or what?” Hawk asked, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

  I turned to Presley and raised a brow. “You wanna play?”

  “Do you know how?”

  “I’m going to choose to not be offended by that question.”

  “Of course you know how.” He smirked, grabbing a handful of my arse and stepping closer to me. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  Survive this life.

  Remain sane.

  Hold my shit together.

  Not slap Rhett.

  “Not a damn thing,” I answered quietly.

  The night wore on into the early hours of the morning and, once again, I’d joined in with the drinking and the games, unable to stop myself from falling down the hole of alcohol and sarcasm when the beers were flowing and Presley was staring at me the way he was. He didn’t have to say anything to get my body tingling. The way I caught him looking my way from the corner of his eyes was enough. He was hungry, and he knew he had me to feast on tonight.

  I lost at poker.

  I lost at holding my tongue whenever Rhett got sarcastic with me, too.

  “Ignore him,” Coops had whispered next to me at one point, making sure no one else could hear. “It’s not you. Rhett just lashes out sometimes. He tries too hard to play the cool rock god when, deep down, he’s an insecure little fuck.”

  “He doesn’t need to be insecure about me being around here.”

  “You’re getting the attention he thinks he deserves for himself. He’ll get over it by tomorrow. Don’t worry about it.”

  Once the game of poker came to an end, and the arguments had broken up after Presley accused Rhett of cheating, I was getting closer to needing my bed.

  “Tired?” Presley asked on the end of me finishing a yawn.

  “Nope,” I lied, falling back into the sofa and letting my head roll his way.

  “It’s been a long few days. Nobody will think bad of you if you hit the sack.”

  “Won’t you be coming with me?”

  Presley glanced out at the still-dark night, his eyes glazing over again as he pushed his hair back from his face and let out a sigh. “I don’t sleep well at night.”

  “Why not?”

  “Dunno.” He shrugged. “I seem to sleep better when its light.”

  “Or when he’s annihilated,” Coops offered.

  “The guy’s a fucking vampire,” Big D grunted from across the coffee table.

  “Count Elvis. That’s what we call him,” Hawk told me.

  I frowned as I looked at Presley, going through the memories in my mind of the two of us together. The only time I’d seen him sleep in the night had been when he was completely wasted and probably unable to tell the night from the day. We hadn’t slept at his apartment all those years ago. We hadn’t slept at my place when he showed up after his fight with a fan. We hadn’t slept after the night at VINYL! either. Every time we had drifted off in each other’s arms, it had been in the early hours of the morning when the sun had come up.

  I’d just packed a bag to spend time with a man I barely knew, and it was there, as I stared at him looking out over our capital, that I knew I needed to get to know him so much more. No part of me wanted to run. I wanted to stay, roll around in his demons and rummage around in his soul to find out the worst parts about him because I knew, even with dirty marks on his perfection, I’d still want Presley in my life.

  He turned to look at me, a subtle sadness taking over his gaze.

  “These fuckers always have something to say,” Presley said with a shake of his head.

  “All the more reason for you to escape with me.” I smiled back at him. “We don’t have to sleep.”

  The boys began cheering roughly, their sarcastic comments about me getting some lovin’ making me laugh rather than blush. If this was life with the guys, I was going to have to get used to it, or Rhett was right… my only other choice was to leave, and I only had to stare into Presley’s piercing blue eyes for half a second to know that was no longer an option.

  “We can play poke-her instead.” I winked at Presley, which caused the guys to burst out laughing. All except Rhett who simply smirked and rested his fist against his mouth while he stared out of the big city window.

  Taking matters into my own hands, I stood and held out my hand for Presley to take. He took a small second to think about it before he slipped his palm into mine and let me guide him back to his room.

  Our room.

  When the door closed behind us, and
the noise of the men drifted away, I turned around and pressed my hands to his chest, looking up at him with every ounce of admiration I felt. His hands came up behind me to run through the ends of my hair over and over again.

  “You really came back,” he said quietly, eyes searching mine.

  “You thought I wouldn’t? I’m offended.”

  “You are my little runaway.” Pressing his lips together, Presley started to hum the tune to Bon Jovi’s Runaway, and it made my beaming grin break free.

  “Whoever ends up spending their life with you will be the luckiest woman to ever live. You know that, right?”

  “What if that woman ends up being you?”

  “A lifetime is a long time.”

  “Only if you’re not having fun while you’re living it.”

  I swallowed the doubts and arguments, the smartass comebacks, and all the things I could have said to make the moment a joke rather than a beautiful memory.

  “You look scared again,” he whispered.

  “The only thing I’m scared of is all of this being some kind of dream.”

  He smirked coyly. “Being alive is the dream. You’ve just gotta want it badly enough to cling to it when the ride gets bumpy.”

  “I love the way you think.”

  “What else do you love?”

  “About you? Everything.”

  “Want to know what my favourite thing about me is?” He leaned closer, brushing his lips over mine. “You.”

  “Kiss me,” I told him softly. “Kiss me right now, Presley West.”

  “Such a chore.” He grinned.

  Lowering his mouth to mine, Presley swept his tongue across my lips, letting me taste the alcohol and the peppermint I’d come to crave from his kisses. His strong arms tensed around me, and I melted into him, committing everything to memory and basking in the joy of every sweet moment I got with him.

  Chapter Thirty-Three