by Lauren Rowe
I nod. “Onward.”
She starts fucking me in earnest, and, soon, I’m not thinking about anything or anyone but my baby and me and her gorgeous tits and magical pussy... and how, fuck you, Caleb and GQ Motherfucker, the beautiful goddess riding my cock is all mine, mine, mine.
Chapter 37
Dax
The little girl in the pink knit cap loses her ever-lovin’ mind as Aloha Carmichael enters the hospital room and strides toward her bed. She’s the sixth kid in this cancer ward who’s instantly recognized Aloha. Not surprisingly, seeing as how Aloha’s a household name, especially with little girls. One kid recognized me, even though I wouldn’t consider kids my demographic. When I entered his room, he blurted, “My mom loves you!” Yeah, everyone laughed pretty hard at that.
And by “everyone” I mean Keane, Maddy, Zander, Aloha, and Violet. When I called Keane and Maddy earlier to ask them to come to the hospital with us, they happened to be sitting at breakfast with Zander and Aloha, who’d just come back from Australia yesterday. And so, rather than ditch their jetlagged breakfast companions, Keane and Maddy dragged them along. And now, all six of us are making the rounds, meeting a whole bunch of cuties in hospital gowns and knit caps.
I gotta say, the entire experience has been deeply moving to me. The smiles we’re getting from these kids... wow. They’re fueling my soul. Not to mention, making me realize my so-called problems are actually miniscule in the big picture.
As Aloha has been dazzling the kids, and Keane and Zander have been charming their hair off—that’s a little cancer humor one of the older kids taught us—and as Maddy Behind the Camera has been filming every interaction—Violet has quietly steered each conversation and gathered information for her superhero sketches. And every time Violet has turned her sketch pad around for the big reveal, my heart has skipped a beat at her latest lovely creation.
In this particular hospital room, I’m standing with Zander and Keane in a corner, watching a little girl in a purple knit cap giggle with Aloha, chat easily with Violet, and mug for Maddy’s camera.
As the three of us dudes stand by and watch the girl-party across the room, Zander says, “I like Violet. She’s a keeper.”
“Maddy loves her,” Keane says. “She couldn’t stop talking about her yesterday when she got back from their shopping day.”
“I can tell Aloha likes her, too,” Zander says.
I look across the room at Violet and my heart swells at the way she’s laughing with the little girl. “Yeah, Violet’s amazing.”
“Weird she’s Reed’s sister,” Zander says. “She doesn’t remind me of him at all.”
“They’re half-siblings,” I say. “They have the same father, and they didn’t grow up together. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”
Violet squeals across the room, drawing our attention. “Awesome, Aloha! I’ll ask Dax!” She puts down her sketch pad and bounces over to me, her face aglow. “Babe! Aloha just invited us to come to her place for dinner tonight with Keane and Maddy! Can we go?” Her blue-gray eyes are pleading. Clearly, she’s dying to go.
“Sounds fun,” I say.
Violet squeals and pecks my cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll drive over there separately, so nobody will spot us together.” With that, she floats away, back to the ladies.
As Violet leaves, I feel some serious “disapproving dad” energy coming from Zander, so I don’t look at him. But sure enough, Zander breaks the thick silence by whispering, “How long are you planning to treat that fine woman like a side piece, Dax Morgan?”
I sigh. “It’s a complicated situation, Z. We’re figuring things out slowly.”
“Maybe you’re figuring things out slowly,” Zander says. “But Violet isn’t. Obviously, she knows exactly what she wants.”
“Yup,” Keane says. “Head, nail, hit.”
I sigh.
“Seems to me, the ball’s in your court,” Zander says. “That look she just gave you said more than words could. She’s all-in.”
“If you need words, though, let the record reflect she called you ‘babe,’” Keane says.
“Guys, stop,” I say. “Violet and I talked about the game plan together. She agreed to keeping things secret.” A wave of anxiety rises up inside me. “Violet’s no shrinking violet, guys. If she’s got a problem with our arrangement, she’ll let me know.”
My phone buzzes with an incoming text and when I look down, my stomach constricts. It’s a text from Caleb: You still good living in a hotel? I’ve got that spare bedroom, just sitting there.
My stomach somersaulting, I tap out a reply: Thanks, I’m good. Just easier this way.
Caleb replies instantly: Do you and the goats wanna come over tonight to hang out and shoot some pool?
“Shit,” I say, my heartbeat quickening. “Fuck.”
“What?” Keane says.
“C-Bomb,” I whisper. “He’s inviting me to come over and hang out tonight.”
Keane says, “Tell him, ‘Sorry, dude. I’m gonna be busy fucking your girl tonight. How about tomorrow? Oh, wait. No. I’ll be fucking her then, too.’”
“Shut the fuck up, Peenie. She’s not his girl.”
My stomach revolting, I tap out a reply: Sorry, can’t make it. My buddy just got into town last night. Having dinner with him tonight.
Caleb replies: No prob. Dean was asking when you wanna do that songwriting sesh? How’s Friday or Saturday looking?
I reply: Going house shopping with my brother Friday. Saturday meeting with Reed.
Caleb writes: Cool, Saturday, it is. After your meeting with Reed. I’ll tell Dean. Just come after your meeting, whenever that is. Good luck house hunting tomorrow.
I stare at my phone, panicking. Not knowing what to reply. Feeling like I’m going to hell. How the fuck am I going to sit across from Dean and Caleb and write songs with them on Saturday? I can’t do it, obviously. But, oh God, I want to do it. Writing a song with Dean would be a dream fulfilled.
Violet’s phone chirps in her pocket across the room. She pulls it out of her pocket, looks at the screen, and scowls. Without replying, she shoves it back into her pocket.
Shit. I bet that was Caleb texting her. Did he invite Violet to come over tonight, right after I turned him down? Or did he just play it cool and send her a “thinking of you” text?
Adrenaline surging inside me, jealousy, panic, I shove my phone into my pocket without saying a word to Caleb. A moment later, Violet turns her sketch pad around to reveal her latest masterpiece to the latest little girl. I can’t see what’s on the pad from here, but whatever it is, it’s thrilling the girl. Not to mention Maddy and Aloha, too.
Goddammit. I feel like I’m leading a double life. And that’s not something I’m wired to do. I’m not a guy who lies to his friends. I am who I am. And now I’m the piece of shit asshole who’s sneaking around behind my buddy’s back—and not only that, acting like the best girl in the world is a goddamned side piece, just like Zander said.
Violet gives the little girl a big farewell hug and Aloha and Maddy follow suit. Keane, Zander, and I wave our goodbyes and we all move, as a group, into the hallway to head to the next room. As we file out of the room, we find ourselves in front of a busy nurse’s station. Predictably, several nurses pull out their phones. Most are pretending to check their phones at the precise moment we enter the hallway, but I know they’re taking photos or videos of Aloha or me. Maybe both of us. I’ve seen this same maneuver before, many times.
After a moment, a nurse approaches and sheepishly asks for a selfie with Aloha and me. And when we oblige her, the kraken is unleashed. All at once, several more nurses ask. And then several more. So, of course, we oblige them all and wind up taking several big group shots when one of the nurses recognizes Keane, as well.
When Aloha begins chatting at length with a group of nurses, I step back and ask Violet to show me her sketch for the last little girl. And when she shows it to me—a rendering of a superhero calle
d “Karate Chop Katie”—I’m so overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it, the hope brimming off the page, the kindness, the love, I take Violet’s face in my hands and kiss her deeply, right in the middle of the hallway, in front of everyone... including one particular nurse who’s been brazenly aiming her phone at me for the past ten seconds.
Chapter 38
Dax
Violet, Maddy, Keane, Zander, and I are at Aloha’s impressive house in the Hollywood Hills. For the past couple hours, we’ve been sitting on her patio in the warm evening, talking, laughing, and eating Mexican food. We’ve talked about a lot of different topics tonight. At the moment, Violet is answering Aloha’s questions about Reed, Red Card Riot, and her upbringing in San Diego.
“Holy crap, Reed owes everything to you,” Aloha says. “Red Card Riot put River Records on the map.”
“Yeah, Reed calls me his lucky charm. One of his tattoos is this little violet-colored four leaf clover.”
“Well, tattoos are nice, but did he give you a finder’s fee or something?” Aloha says, laughing.
“A finder’s fee?” Violet says, waving at the air. “Oh gosh, no. That would be ridiculous.”
“If Reed gave you even one percent of what he’s made off RCR, you’d be a very wealthy woman.”
“I wouldn’t accept money from Reed. Not like that. But he’s always been ridiculously generous with me. Not because he owes me anything, just because he says he wants to take care of me.”
“Hey, whatever he’s done for you—the girl who had to beg him to come see a Red Card Riot show—it’s the least he can do,” Aloha says, chuckling.
It’s clear Aloha intends her remarks lightly—with no malice whatsoever—but I can also plainly see Violet’s shoulders have tightened with defensiveness, the same way they did when she thought I was bagging on single mothers.
Violet says, “Reed’s also offered to help my career—to introduce me to people. But I’ve always said no. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m riding his coattails for personal gain.”
“Violet wants to do costume design, Aloha,” Maddy interjects. “She’s helping design costumes for an indie movie now, but you should see some of her sketches for this ‘Icons Reimagined’ project she did for school. Show her some of your sketches, Vi.”
“Are you sure?” Violet asks, looking adorably shy.
“I’d love to see them,” Aloha says. “Let’s see.”
With obvious excitement, Violet pulls out her phone and begins showing sketches to Aloha—and as she does that, I covertly check that “Dax in the Wild” Instagram account again, looking to see if any of the photos from today’s visit to the hospital have made their way there. Holy shit. There’s a shot from today uploaded on the account—one of Aloha and me and one of the nurses. But no photo of me kissing Violet. Not even one of me standing next to her, looking at her adoringly.
Acute disappointment washes over me. And that surprises me. Why the hell am I feeling disappointment? Shouldn’t I be feeling relief? Obviously, I got lucky today and I should be happy about that. I was reckless to kiss Violet in that hallway and I dodged a bullet. Even as I did it, I knew I was taking a huge risk. So why am I not feeling unadulterated glee that I most likely got away with it?
I tune back into the conversation at the table, just in time to hear Aloha say to Violet, “If I tell you what I’m envisioning, would you be willing to take a stab at designing something like that for me?”
Violet bounces in her chair with effusive excitement. “I would love to, Aloha. Thank you so much for the opportunity!”
Oh, my heart. Sweet Violet is smiling like a kid on Christmas. It’s enough to make my heart feel like it’s swelling to three times its normal size. I take Violet’s hand. This girl makes me feel high. Drunk. She’s better than any shot of tequila or whiskey.
Speaking of booze, I look around the table at the empty beer bottles... and, just for a moment, feel annoyed at Colby. Not because I need a drink. I don’t. I’m not in any danger of breaking my promise. But because beer is damned good with Mexican food and I’m pissed I didn’t get to enjoy that simple pleasure tonight, all because Colby’s being an over-protective nut job. But, whatever, when I look at Violet again, at the excited smile on her face, and the water bottle in front of her, the impulse to taste the deliciousness of a beer—and also to pummel Colby for being overly protective—passes.
“Hey, guys,” Keane says, looking at his phone. “One of the gossip sites has a photo of us from the hospital today.”
My breathing catches. This is it. “Let me see.” I grab my brother’s phone. And there we are, all six of us, huddled together in a shot the hospital administrator took of our group when we first arrived. Violet’s not even standing next to me in the photo. She’s way on the outside, cuddling with Maddy. Again, I feel disappointment, not relief.
“Phew,” Violet says, peeking at Keane’s screen. “Nothing scandalous.” She smiles thinly at me, but I swear I see disappointment in her eyes. “We dodged a bullet, huh?”
“We sure did.” I return her smile weakly, even though my heart is panging.
“We should be more careful next time,” Violet says. She holds my gaze for a beat, and I can plainly see hurt in her stormy eyes. When she looks away, I look away, too. Only to find Zander looking at me like he thinks I’m a twat. I look away from Zander and catch Maddy looking at me the same way. Like she also thinks I’m a twat. And so, with nowhere to safely look, I look down at my lap.
Chapter 39
Violet
“San Diego was cool when we blew through there on the tour,” Dax says.
We’re lying naked in bed together, on our sides, nose to nose. We banged like animals the minute we walked through the door from Aloha’s house. And now, we’re lying here talking about my hometown.
Dax says, “I’d never been to San Diego before that, but the RCR guys were all stoked to be back in their hometown. They kept going on and on about how great it is.”
“It’s ‘America’s Finest City.’ That’s San Diego’s slogan.”
“Yeah, so the guys told me. Over and over again.” He chuckles. “The day after the show, we had some free time before our evening flight. So, Colin, Fish, and”—Dax pauses—“and I packed into a limo and took a little tour of the highlights.”
Caleb.
That’s the name Dax just left out of his story. Because, of course, Caleb would have been the one to show his friends the highlights of his beloved San Diego. I take a deep breath, stuffing down my anxiety. God, I hate seeing Dax perform mental gymnastics to manage the guilt he so obviously feels about betraying his good friend. And I hate having a third wheel in my relationship with Dax—or, whatever this thing I’ve been doing with Dax should rightly be called.
I sigh and stuff down my insecurities. “So, what sights did you see in San Diego?”
“Um, let’s see. I was pretty stoned that day, as I recall. But I remember we went over this really cool bridge to this cool island...”
“Coronado.”
“Yeah! And we saw this famous hotel...”
“The Hotel Del. Or, ‘The Del,’ as we locals call it.”
“That place was sick. Did you know one of the rooms is haunted?”
“By a young woman named Kate Morgan. Hey, maybe she was your ancestor.”
“Whoa. That’s cool.”
“Did you know a famous movie starring Marilyn Monroe was filmed at The Del? Some Like It Hot.”
“Look at you! My own personal San Diego tour guide.”
I shrug. “I’m a local, baby. I know all the things.”
“Clearly, you would have been a much better tour guide than... our driver.”
My stomach clenches. There he is again: Caleb. But I ignore his obvious presence in this conversation—in this relationship—in this bed—and say, “You ever want a personal tour of San Diego, then I’m your girl.”
Shit. Why did I say that? Obviously, we can’t go to San Diego together, and I
can’t give him a personal tour of my hometown, because he won’t be seen in public with me. Because Dax cares more about not offending Caleb than getting to be with me, out there in the world. Holy crap. My stomach clenches. I didn’t realize I was thinking about it that way—that Dax is choosing Caleb over me. But... it kind of is what he’s doing... right? Goddammit. This secret fuck-spies thing is so much harder than I thought it’d be! A total mind-fuck. With each passing day in this hotel room, we’re beginning to feel less like secret fuck-spies and more like secret fuck buddies... And that’s not something I’ve ever wanted to be with anyone.
If Dax wanted to keep things on the down low because he’s famous and doesn’t want his private life to become fodder for gossip sites, just on principle, that’d feel different to me than this present situation. Indeed, I wouldn’t feel slighted or insecure about that. But knowing he legit won’t be seen with me because we’re doing something illicit, something that makes him feel guilty and smarmy... something he’s ashamed to be doing... well, shit. That’s a whole different kettle of fish. Something that’s starting to make me feel like my mother. And I don’t like feeling like my mother.
When I tune back into Dax, he’s saying, “. . . and then we saw some seals, lying around on this beach. It wasn’t a zoo. They were just there, in the wild, and everyone was taking photos of them.” He laughs. “Hey, those seals were just like me! Out in the wild, getting their picture taken.”
I want to laugh with him, but I can’t. I’m too caught up in my thoughts.
“Do you know what that beach is called?” he asks. “The one with the seals?”
“La Jolla Cove.”
“Yeah, that’s right. God, I was stoned that day. I can’t remember anything.”
“No one knows why the seals chose that particular spot. But they’re there every year.”
“Where did you grow up in relation to that seal beach?”