Cherry Beats

by Vicki James

  Rhett’s eyes widened. “Clearly, you didn’t get to the blowjob stage of the evening.” Presley looked up at Rhett in warning, a single, stern glare enough to get Rhett to hold his hands up in surrender and sit back down. “Consider me told.”

  I blew out a breath and turned to look at Julia, who was pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand as she hung up.

  “Still no idea who it was?” I asked.

  “No.” She shook her head, dropping her hand and turning to me. “The office hasn’t had any calls, so if it’s someone like Janey Dominic, we’re going to have to wait for her to do what she does best.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She makes her exclusives go viral before we can blink, and after that, it’s all about damage control.”

  “It might not be JD,” Presley offered. “It could just be a kid, pissing about with his new toy.”

  “Did it look like a toy to you?” she asked him.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t a fucking clue about these things, Julia.”

  Julia rolled her eyes and chose to look at me as Presley stood and began pacing, too, clearly as agitated as me.

  “I don’t get it. Why is Janey Dominic so damn determined to get something on you?” I asked him—any of them.

  “Because she’s a raging bitch,” Presley answered.

  “And that’s it? No other reason?”

  Presley only frowned harder as he stared at the carpet, not answering my question.

  I sighed and turned to Julia. “What are our options here?”

  “We don’t have any. We have to wait for them to strike first and hope it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

  “Can’t we pre-empt it somehow? Take the shock value away from it all? Control the narrative?”

  “How do you want to do that? You want to take a picture of you and Presley at it and post it to the band’s web page just so we can say You saw it here first.”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Rhett chimed in.

  “Shut up, Rhett!” all three of us shouted back at him, forcing his hands in the air again and his eyes to widen.

  “I’m just saying,” he squeaked in a very un-Rhett like way. “We’re rock stars, folks. This isn’t a pleasant romance you two are playing out. It’s wild, and it’s in front of the world. If you’re looking for a quiet life, you ain’t gonna get it. I’m not sure why that would even be a surprise to you. The world is watching, waiting, begging for you to show them a glimpse of more. Especially after that declaration of love on the stage in Paris. What did you expect? For them to just coo and move on? Not a chance. We’re slap bang in the middle of the most invasive generation to ever exist. Either learn how to handle that or walk away now. It’s never going to get easier than this.”

  Julia, Presley, and I all turned to look at one another, our shoulders sagging, and our eyes saying everything we didn’t want to speak.

  Rhett was right.

  No scandal had been revealed in the media by the time the band went on stage at nine o’clock that night to perform at the Palau Sant Jordi, where seventeen thousand people were screaming the band’s name on repeat in between songs.

  Of course, there was a chance it had been the drone of an innocent adult or child, but the churning in my gut wouldn’t let that thought get too cosy in my brain. Janey Dominic and her rats were circling. It was only a matter of time.

  I watched Presley do his thing on the drums. His passion for the music blocking out any worries he may or may not have had. I envied him. I envied the way he could choose what he let take over his thoughts and what he could push to one side. I envied the conviction with which he lived his life unapologetically. I envied his confidence, his need to find the truth in everything that touched him.

  I envied that he didn’t seem to miss anything about home.

  Molly, Bourbon, and Fliss sprang to mind, their familiar faces making a soft smile grace my lips as I watched Presley get lost in the music. He looked up and caught me in between songs, and he smiled brightly, flashing me a wink as he took a drink from his bottle of water before he poured the rest of it over his head and shook it out, enticing a huge cheer from the crowd.

  “Julia?”

  “What’s up, Tess?”

  “Tell Presley I’ll be in his dressing room when he finishes his set, will you?”

  She turned to me, scowling. “You’re not waiting to see the finale?”

  I looked up into her eyes. “I’ll see it again in the next city.”

  Julia didn’t respond, and I turned to make my way back to Presley’s room. When I pushed through the door, my ears rang, the silence so loud it was almost deafening. Every corridor in these places and every dressing room looked the same. We could have been in London, Australia, or Japan, and nobody would have known. This life was lived behind off-white walls and beneath impenetrable ceilings.

  A small part of me missed the freedom of driving along a road with the windows down, seeing nothing but green fields for miles—no dirty city blocks and dark grey skyscrapers in sight.

  I uncapped a bottle of beer, grabbed my phone from the pocket of my jeans, and I sank down into place on the bland sofa, kicking my feet up onto the coffee table in front of it. Before I could stop myself, I hit the call button next to Bourbon’s name and pressed the phone to my ear.

  “You’re alive!” he cried, the noise of BB’s as loud as the concert I’d just left.

  “Just about.” I grinned. “It sounds noisy there. What’s happening?”

  “It’s ridiculous, Tess. Since your man declared his love for you on stage and the thing went viral, BB’s has been bursting at the seams. Congrats on that, by the way. You guys looked cute together up on that stage.”

  “Oh. I. Erm. Thanks.” I blushed. “He caught me by surprise.”

  “A little flash, if you ask me, but I can’t criticise the guy for his efforts.” He laughed, and I heard the smash of glass somewhere close by. “Oh, Christ, Molly. That’s the sixth one tonight!”

  “Sorry, B,” she called back to him, and even I could hear the fake innocence in her voice.

  “Molly’s with you? My Molly?” I asked, raising my voice so he could hear me.

  “Day. And. Night. Tess, I can’t get rid of the bloody woman.”

  “Hey!” Molly cried.

  Bourbon laughed while I sat there with my mouth hanging open. “Molly never gets her hands dirty. What the hell is going on?” I found myself asking.

  “I got a call from her asking for my help to get that brother of yours out of your apartment—”

  “Wait, what? Freddie is out?”

  “Damn right, he is. That kid has a hell of a mouth on him too, dolly.”

  I sighed with relief, sinking into the sofa and letting my head fall onto the back of it. “You got him out. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “He wasn’t happy about it, but when Molly is being Molly and threatening to cut his dick off with a pickle fork, what’s the kid gonna do?”

  I laughed out loud at the visual, imagining Molly towering over Freddie and threatening him that way. God, I loved that woman.

  “I miss you guys.” I sighed.

  “We miss you, too,” Bourbon told me proudly, pausing before he spoke again. “Is… everything okay? You sound weird?”

  Opening my eyes, I stared up at the white ceiling. “I’m good,” I said to appease him. “Just… missing home. Missing you guys.” Missing normality and privacy. “I hope Molly doesn’t think she can replace me at BB’s. My job is still my job, right?”

  “I’d pay Molly just to leave me the hell alone, never mind paying her to work here.”

  “Watch your tongue, boss man,” Molly snapped, sounding closer to him now, and clearer to me. “Hey, baby girl,” she called out.

  “Hey, Mol.”

  “We really miss ya. Is that rock star giving you the good D?”

  “Fuck my life,” Bourbon grumbled in disgust.

  I lifted my head when
I heard the door of the dressing room shut, and I saw Presley standing there, his expression blank and his arms folded over his chest as sweat dripped over his forehead.

  “He’s giving me the good everything,” I assured her, my eyes trained on him.

  “He’d better. You know where I am if he gets complacent.”

  “He won’t, Mol. I know he won’t.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  The afterparty had been a wild one back at the hotel, and when most of the band decided to make their way to a nightclub in the early hours of the morning, I opted for an early night instead.

  “Go with them,” I urged Presley as he stood in the middle of the hotel suite, staring down at me. “Have some fun.”

  He glanced over his shoulders as Big D, Coops, and Hawk made their way to the door to leave.

  “You don’t have to babysit me,” I told him through a smile. “I’m a big girl.”

  “I have no desire to go to a nightclub tonight,” he said, turning back to me with a glint in his eye. “There’s nothing there to hold my interest. I’d just become a grumpy fuck in the corner, pining for you.”

  I smirked. “Get a grip of yourself, will you?”

  “Stop ruining all my fun.” He growled, burying his lips into my neck and enticing a laugh from me.

  Rhett was sitting in a wingback chair by the main window overlooking Barcelona, his back to us but his groan of annoyance forcing Presley to pull back and tilt his head towards the door.

  “Wanna get out of here?” he whispered.

  Rhett made another noise, a noise that sounded like emotion rising in his throat before he cleared it away. I looked around Presley and saw Rhett sitting there with his ankle resting over his knee, his hand holding onto a bottle of Jack Daniels limply.

  “You not going with the others, Rhett?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  Looking back up at Presley, I scowled. “Is he okay?” I mouthed.

  “Fuck knows with him.”

  “What’s up, Rhett?” I asked.

  “Nothing, Cherry. Now fuck off already.”

  “Hey, man—” Presley started, turning to defend me, but I cut him off swiftly, pressing my hand against his chest and forcing his attention back to me.

  I shook my head. “Don’t. It’s fine.”

  “You know I can see you two through the reflection of this big ass window, right?” Rhett grumbled.

  Maybe Rhett was tired. Maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe he was sick of this becoming the Presley and Tessa show. I couldn’t blame him.

  Looking up at Presley, I spoke so they both could hear me. “I’m going to go to bed. Why don’t you two have a nightcap together before you follow me, hey?”

  “What the fuck?” Presley mouthed at me.

  I raised both brows, urging him to go to his friend. “A little whiskey might help you sleep better.” Reaching up on tiptoes, I whispered in his ear, “I think your friend needs a friend.” Then I placed a kiss on his cheek and turned to leave, unable to ignore the way Presley’s hand lingered on my fingers as I tore away and walked to our room.

  Real life had to go on in the midst of the fairy tale.

  Friendships mattered. Without them, Presley or Rhett could never survive this life.

  Once inside our room, I undressed, showered, brushed my teeth, and climbed into our ridiculously comfy bed wearing nothing more than my underwear and one of Presley’s T-shirts to keep me warm as I sank my head into the pillow and waited.

  Time escaped me in this life. I had no idea what day we were on, never mind how long we had until sunrise. All I did know was that Presley didn’t arrive back an hour later.

  Not two hours after, either.

  By the time I felt him crawling onto the bed beside me, I was groggy from the sleep that had dragged me under, my eyes refusing to open properly against the early morning light that was starting to filter into the room.

  “Let me taste you,” he purred, his lips close to my cheek and the rich smell of alcohol washing over me.

  “What time is it?”

  “Play time.”

  “Presley,” I groaned, my mind fuzzy, and my body exhausted.

  He trailed a hand down the valley of my waist, finding the edge of his T-shirt on me and pushing his fingers up and over my skin to the curve of my breast.

  “You’re so warm,” he whispered. “I love that you’re always warm.”

  I moved under his touch, rolling onto my back despite the bone-deep tiredness that ran through me. With his fingers making goosebumps rise all over my body, it was only a matter of seconds before I was ready to give myself to him.

  But Presley swayed above me, his eyes narrowed and glazed as he fell to one side, catching and holding himself upright on his elbow when he looked up at me and smiled that dopey smile of his.

  If I hadn’t been so concerned, it would have been adorable.

  “Are you okay?” I dared myself to ask.

  Presley rolled his head, that blonde hair I loved so much hanging over his face as he closed his eyes and huffed out a laugh.

  “Yeah.” He chuckled groggily.

  I reached over to push the hair away from his face so I could see him clearly. Even hammered, he was hot as Hell, but when you love someone the way I loved Presley, looks only go so far to diluting your concerns for them, and right then, all I wanted to do was lie him down and tell him to sleep. “I call bullshit.”

  “Did you j’say bullshit?” he slurred. “So feisty.”

  “I take it you and Rhett finished that bottle of Jack?”

  “Think he finished two.” He hiccupped.

  “How is he not dead?”

  “High tolerance.”

  “Everything okay with him?”

  “Not really.” Presley’s arm gave way, sprawling out above his head and forcing him to lie down and rest his head on his bicep. His eyes closed, and his mouth parted.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Same thing that’s wrong with all of us. We’re fucked. The highs go right alongside the lows.” Presley exhaled through his nose, his eyes fluttering open and looking up to find me. “It’s lonely when you’re going to bed every night on your own.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rhett go to bed on his own.”

  “Taking women you don’t care about back to bed is only satisfying for so long, Cherry. Eventually, they all become the same. They want the same thing—the fame, the money.” He released a low, weighted groan from the back of his throat. “They don’t give a shit about us. They give a shit about the name we carry.”

  His eyes closed again. His shoulders sagging even further.

  “You being here with me is pissing Rhett off,” Presley admitted quietly.

  “Me being here seems to be pissing a lot of people off.”

  “Jealousy is nasty. It makes them bitter.”

  I thought back to all the times I’d been miserable, pining for Presley, and the happy couples I’d seen that made my stomach twist with envy. “I guess it does. Is Rhett going to be okay?”

  “He’ll be fine.” Presley sighed, the weight of it making his body lose a bit more tension. “He’ll fuck someone who makes him forget he’s lonely or, knowing Rhett, he’ll try and settle down with a girl to prove a point to himself, get bored, and then move the fuck on once he realises it ain’t for him.”

  I laughed quietly, my hand now working through his hair, needing to touch him. “Is that what you’re going to do? Get bored and move the fuck on once you realise it isn’t for you?”

  His eyes fluttered open—his chin tilting up until he was staring at me. “Don’t ever think that again,” he whispered. “No matter what.”

  “I was joking,” I assured him.

  “I don’t care.”

  I thought he was about to speak again when he let his head fall back to rest on his bicep, and he closed his eyes, a contented sigh falling from him.

  He was too drunk to talk, so I stayed where I was
, lulling him to sleep with even breaths and my soft touch.

  “What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you in your life, Tess?” he asked suddenly, his voice a whisper.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly, not wanting to admit that walking away from him ranked higher than it probably should. “Life is complicated.”

  “Complicated, yeah.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened in your life?”

  “Finding my father swinging from a rope at the top of the stairs,” he whispered, almost to himself, his quiet confession something I wasn’t sure I should have heard.

  My hand froze in his hair, lips parting as I let the words he’d spoken sink in, unable to find a single thing to say in response while my heart broke into a million pieces, those pieces now his, ready to squeeze into the gaps of his broken heart and help it heal.

  His eyelashes fluttered, and he stared at my stomach, not moving or flinching as his truth floated above us.

  “Sometimes, I drink to make the image of him fade away.”

  “Presley…”

  “Sometimes I feel so angry at him.”

  I shuffled closer, swallowing the pain I felt on his behalf, knowing my voice wasn’t what needed to be heard there and then. This was about him, and his need to speak.

  I wanted him to speak.

  “Every night, I hit those drums to deal with the anger I feel at the world for making me live without him.” He looked up slowly, his sad eyes meeting mine, once again. “He wore a mask every day of his life to try and make everyone around him happy. Olivia, me… he loved us too hard, and when my mum trod on him over and over again, he still couldn’t bring himself to hurt her the way she’d hurt him. So, he hurt himself instead. He took off the mask, threw it on the floor and let it smash to pieces. He dropped his fake smile—let it slide right off his face like it didn’t even fucking matter, and he took a look at the real him in the mirror. Do you know what happened?”

  “No, baby,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes.