Reckless Invitation (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

  When I’m gone, things will change. I left notes for Mom and Dirk. I told them it’s their job to protect you. I was too ashamed before to say anything. No need for that anymore. I’m not sure if people feel anything after they’re dead. I hope they don’t, because I’m tired of feeling like this. I’m sorry if telling them brings you shame, but I didn’t know what else to do. I hope it will help in some way, because it’s the very last thing I get to do as your brother. I loved being your brother, Liam. There’s no better brother than you.

  I wish we could do our handshake one more time.

  Love,

  Your big brother, Luke

  P.S. Don’t stop playing guitar. You’re good at it. It’s the one thing you’ve always done better than me.

  I drop the letter on my bed, go to the kitchen, and pour myself a shot.

  “Still celebrating, are we?” Garrett says.

  I pour another and down it. “Let’s go out, see what kind of bars are around here.”

  “I’m game.” He yells to the others, “Want to check out the neighborhood scene?”

  Bria exits their bedroom and carries a box into the kitchen. Crew takes it from her. “Where do you want it?” She points, and he sets it down.

  “You guys go ahead. I’d like to get the kitchen in order.”

  “You sure?” Crew says. “I can stay and help.”

  She chuckles. “I’ve been to your old apartment, Crew. You have no idea how to organize a kitchen. You kept your pots and pans under the sink and your plates were where the glasses should go.”

  Garrett jokes, “Are you going to tell us what time to take a shit, too?”

  “Watch it,” Crew says. “That’s my fiancée you’re talking to.” He kisses Bria’s forehead and turns to Garrett. “I’m the one who’ll be telling you that.”

  Garrett mock pouts. “You guys are going to be like our mom and dad, aren’t you? The responsible ones. I’m telling you right now, I’m damn well not going to censor what I say or who I bring into my room.” He pounds on the wall. “I hope these walls are thick. I wouldn’t want you to be jealous of all the screaming.”

  “You’re the one who’s going to be jealous,” Crew says. “Believe me, there will be no shortage of banging from our bedpost.”

  Bria’s face is beet red. “Crew.”

  “What? We all live together now. Might as well get used to each other’s habits. I’m simply letting them know that one of ours is fucking like bunnies.”

  She points to the door. “Leave. You’re only making it worse.”

  We go to the door, laughing.

  “Seriously, though,” Crew says in the hall. “I know we’re men and all, but if you can keep any disgusting habits to yourself when Bria’s around, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I don’t have any disgusting habits,” Garett says.

  I give him a pointed look. “Dude, your farts are louder than a goddamn air horn.”

  “Yeah, that,” Crew says.

  Garrett frowns. “Are you saying I can’t float an air biscuit in my own goddamn apartment?”

  “Just be courteous,” Crew says. “Get up and leave the room. We all agreed to live together, that’s just part of it. I’m sure Bria will have to make some adjustments too.”

  “What kind of adjustments?” I ask.

  He thinks. “For one, she likes to walk around naked.”

  Garrett and I both raise our eyebrows. “Some guys have all the luck,” he says. He closes his eyes tightly, like he’s thinking hard.

  Crew hits him. “Quit picturing my fiancée naked.”

  Out on the street, we look both ways. “Where should we start?” I ask.

  Garrett points right. “We’ll stop at every bar for one drink, working our way down the street and back. That way, we’ll get a feel for which ones are the best.”

  Crew says, “Sounds like a plan.”

  I couldn’t care less about finding the best bar. I just want to get drunk, sleep in my new room, and forget about my miserable fucking past.

  ~ ~ ~

  We wait in line at the fourth bar of the night. “Whiskey still?” Garrett asks. “Or should we switch to beer?”

  “You pussies do what you want. I’m having whiskey.”

  Garrett gets our drinks while Crew and I find a table.

  “How long do you think it will last?” I say. “You and Bria living with a couple of certified bachelors?”

  He shrugs. “I guess I’ll leave it up to her.”

  “Would you have done things differently? Knowing we’d be raking in money like we are now?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But I’m excited about it. I’ve only ever lived by myself. I think it’ll be fun, all of us together. As long as Garrett can keep his farts to himself.”

  “I’ve only ever lived with my uncle, my mom, or, well, you know. I’m pretty happy about it too.”

  “You’re stoked to be out of Dirk’s house, huh?”

  “You have no fucking idea.”

  “Earlier today, when you said there are other ways to get out from under Dirk. Were you talking about the video? You still have it, right?”

  I nod. “Locked in a safe deposit box.”

  “Maybe it’s time to use it.”

  “It wouldn’t be enough to make any arrests. It’s only of Dirk blackmailing my mom.”

  “Dirk the politician. If you want to hit him where it hurts, release the tape. No way would he be elected governor then. He’d be ruined.”

  “Maybe, but then everyone would know what happened.”

  “To Luke, yes. I’ve seen the video. It doesn’t clearly say anything happened to you.”

  “But it’s implied. People aren’t stupid, Crew. They’d know. Plus, I’d be betraying Luke.”

  “You wouldn’t. I know why you’re getting shit-faced. I saw you reading the letter earlier. You showed it to me when we were sixteen, and you were drunk out of your mind. Luke wrote the letters to protect you. He’d be okay with it. I know he would.”

  “Dude, I came here to forget about the past. Not relive it.”

  Garrett puts our drinks on the table. “What’d I miss?”

  “Nothing,” Crew says. “I was asking Liam about Ella.”

  “What about her?” I say.

  “Have you seen her since we got back?”

  “Nope.”

  “You done with that?” Garrett asks.

  I sip my whiskey. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “You guys were good together,” Crew says. “You should give it a chance.”

  “What the shit?” Garrett says, becoming rigid as he glares across the bar.

  A man is staring right back at him. He tosses back his drink and gets up, not breaking eye contact with Garrett. Although they seem surprised to see each other, Garrett is pissed as hell. The other guy, not so much.

  “Let’s go,” Garrett says, putting his drink down.

  We get up and start for the door.

  “Come on, Gare,” the man says behind us.

  Garrett spins. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

  We exit the bar. The man follows. “Garrett, it’s been five years.”

  “And that’s supposed to make everything okay?” Garrett spits.

  “You can at least talk to me,” he says.

  “I told you to stay the fuck away.”

  “Jesus, man, you sure can hold a grudge.” In a split-second, Garrett’s fist connects with the guy’s face. Blood spatters on the sidewalk. He wipes his mouth. “So this is how it is?”

  “This is how it is.”

  Garrett walks away. We run up behind him. “Who the hell was that?” Crew asks.

  He glances back to make sure we’re not being followed. “That was my fucking brother.”

  Crew and I look at each other, surprised.

  Crew asks, “What—”

  “Don’t even ask,” he says, quickening his pace.

  After we’ve gone three blocks, he leads us into a bar. We sit an
d order drinks.

  Garrett breaks the awkward silence. “Listen, I know you guys have some messed up shit in your past. I don’t ask you about it. So let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Fine by me,” I say. “Shit is better left in the past, if you ask me.”

  Two hours later, we stumble home, having sampled almost a dozen bars within walking distance. As soon as we reach our apartment, Garrett races for the bathroom. We can hear him tossing his cookies. Or more accurately, his whiskey.

  Crew stops on the way to his room. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

  I lift my chin at him, then close my bedroom door. Luke’s letter is where I left it. I fold it, thinking about what Crew said.

  When we were eleven, Crew and I were already best friends. Sometimes I wanted to tell him what was going on. Ask him if it was normal. But his parents were going through a divorce. He had his own problems. Both of us were avoiding our fathers but for very different reasons. His was having sex with his secretary. Mine was having sex with me.

  One drunken night when we were sixteen, a guy tried to hit on me. I beat the shit out of him, then broke down and told Crew what I’d never told another living soul, that Luke had killed himself because Don was molesting him.

  After that, Crew became my sounding board when I needed to talk about Luke. I spoke of his abuse as if it didn’t happen to me, just Luke. But both of us knew I wouldn’t have been privy to such details if it weren’t from personal experience. He listened. He never judged. Others would have called me sick. Gay. Less of a man. But not Crew. I knew he’d be the only one who would understand.

  Or so I thought.

  I take out my phone and scroll through the pictures of Ella.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Ella

  I haven’t heard from him in three days. Aside from when he texted me Sunday night, it’s been complete radio silence. Maybe I’m being stupid not texting or calling him. But if he wanted to see me, he’d reach out, right?

  Or maybe he’s saying the same thing about me.

  No. He’s the one who needs to initiate contact. He’s the one who has issues with having a relationship.

  I run in Central Park, and someone yells behind me, “Ella!”

  My heart soars and then falls. It’s Corey. I don’t slow down. He goes faster to catch up with me.

  “You’re looking tan,” he says, panting. “Beach vacation?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Were you avoiding me?”

  “No.” Yes.

  He slows. “Can you stop and talk for a sec? I’ve done five miles, and I’m beat.”

  I stop and stare at him, wondering if the old feelings are going to come back. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I haven’t seen you in almost two months. Didn’t you miss me?”

  “Do we have to keep having the same conversation, Corey? You cheated on me. I broke up with you. End of story.”

  He touches my arm. “It’s not the end of our story, Ella. I still love you. We could have a life. Get married. Have kids.”

  “Married? You barely mentioned the word in the eighteen months we were together. Then you showed up at the hospital and wanted me to go home with you. Now you think we should get married?” I laugh harshly. “Seems to me this is a case of wanting something you can’t have.”

  “I know you want to be a wife and mother,” he says. “I saw the magazines you read. I heard what you and your friends talked about.”

  “Lots of women want those things. It doesn’t mean I would settle for someone who cheats on me.”

  “Cheat,” he says. “One time. It was a moment of complete stupidity and weakness. I know you can get past it if you give me a chance.”

  “I have to go.” I turn and run.

  “That wasn’t a no!” he shouts after me.

  He’s right. I’ve always wanted to get married and have kids. My parents were the perfect example of a happy couple when I was growing up. He brought her flowers. She rubbed his feet. They kissed every time they saw each other after work. When I go home for a visit, they’re still that way, even after all these years. Of course I want what they have.

  The irony is that I want it with a man who probably isn’t capable of giving it to me. Then there’s Corey. He’s the safe bet. The stable tax attorney whose idea of risky behavior is to go horseback riding in the summer. What if he’s right, and I can get past the cheating? If it was just the one time, would he really risk everything by doing it again?

  The truth is I always saw myself with someone like him. Corey is a lot like my dad. Down to earth. A homebody. Pragmatic. He gets along with my parents like he’s their long-lost son.

  I glance back, and he gives me a wave.

  I wonder what Mom and Dad would think of me seeing a musician who won’t let me touch him because of something horrible his father did to him as a child.

  I run so hard I can’t think about marriage, men, or molestation.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next day, fresh out of the shower after another solo run, I race to answer the phone. It’s Bria. “Hi. How’s the new place?”

  “It’s great. I’m sure you’ve heard all about it from Liam.”

  I sigh. “Actually, I haven’t.”

  After a moment of surprised silence, she says, “Are you telling me he hasn’t contacted you since we got back?”

  “He texted me Sunday night. Nothing since.”

  “Four days ago? That jerk. I ought to—”

  “Bria, you can’t force the man to call me. Pushing him will only make things worse.”

  “Why are you being so nice about it? He’s being a jackass.”

  “He’s probably thinking things through.”

  “Things? What sort of things?”

  I don’t respond.

  “He opened up to you, didn’t he? Of course he did. You guys were practically together twenty-four-seven in Florida.”

  “He kind of did but only a little.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Listen, I don’t presume to know what happened in his past. It’s not something Crew has shared with me, but if it’s anything like what Crew went through, I feel your pain. It was hard on us in the beginning.”

  “I’m not sure there’s an us.”

  “You need to find out. We’re moving to the new rehearsal studio tomorrow. How about meeting me for lunch at IRL?”

  “That might be awkward.”

  “It will be a test. You know, to see how he reacts.”

  “Maybe I should wait for him to call.”

  “Ella, do you want to be with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come at noon. I’ll text you the address.”

  “Okay, but only because I miss you. Now let’s change the subject. Have you and Crew picked a wedding date?”

  “Lord, no. We’re going to be pretty busy. We’ll sit down in a few months and try to figure it out. I’m not in any hurry. I’ve got the ring on my finger, and that’s all that matters.”

  “Are you going to change your name?”

  “Good question. While I love the thought of being Mr. and Mrs. Rewey, my music career has been built on me being Brianna Cash.”

  “So become Mrs. Rewey legally but keep your maiden name for the band.”

  “Maybe. You do realize you wouldn’t have to change your name if you married Liam. I mean, how often does something like that happen?”

  As if the thought hadn’t ever crossed my mind. “I’m not sure he’s the marrying type.”

  “I think you’re wrong. I see the way he looks at Crew and me. He wants what we have.”

  “Somehow this conversation turned back to Liam and me.”

  “That’s because it’s the most exciting thing going on.”

  “Oh, come on. You have a new apartment and a new rehearsal studio. You’re going to make another album soon. You just got engaged. My love life is hardly exciting compared to all that.”

  “Liam is
one of my best friends, Ella. I want good things for him. And you’re a very good thing.”

  “I hope you’re right, otherwise I might end up doing something stupid, like marrying a tax attorney.”

  “Corey? He’s not still calling you, is he?”

  “I ran into him yesterday. He actually brought up the word marriage.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “I wish I was.”

  “Girl, we need to go out for more than lunch. Better make it drinks, too. Will you have time?”

  I laugh. “I think I can manage that.”

  I get dressed and go downstairs to check the mail. In my box are a few bills, a padded envelope from Corey (eye roll), and a letter from IRL. I rip open the one from IRL even before I get back to the elevator. It’s my commission check for the album cover. It’s more money than I usually see in two months. I still can’t believe Liam made it happen. Between this and the money I’m making from the books, this year will be my best one ever.

  It’s nothing like what Liam is making now. He showed me his bank account when they got their most recent royalty check. It’s staggering. I don’t know what I’d do if I had that much money coming in every month.

  Back in my apartment, I handle the envelope from Corey as if it’s kryptonite and I’m Superman. He sent it by overnight mail. Another token of his guilt, I’m sure. What will it be this time? I tear it open and turn it over, emptying the contents: a note and a small black box.

  Ella,

  Maybe this will show you how serious I am.

  I love you,

  Corey

  Surely he didn’t.

  I open the box and my jaw goes slack when I see the ring. It’s not just any ring—it’s the ring. Although I never told him rose gold was my favorite band, nor did I ever say I prefer oval-shaped diamonds, it’s evident what he said yesterday is true—he was paying attention to the magazines I used to read.

  I snap the box shut and go to the kitchen for a drink of water. Then I go to the bedroom, where I don’t do a thing. Trying to ignore the box is somehow making me feel claustrophobic. I return to the living room, open the box, remove the ring, and slip in on my finger. It’s fits perfectly.