by J. Bengtsson
Nick leaned in close, and the smell of alcohol permeated my senses. “And just so you know, I’m not here to scope out your girl. Trust me when I say she’s safe with you.”
Jess flashed me a warning with her eyes, leaving no question she wanted to handle this her way and for me to step aside.
“This isn’t appropriate,” Jess said, her voice strong and steely. “It’s time to go.”
Nick completely ignored her. “Go ahead, Noah. Open the gift.”
“Can I, Mom?” Noah questioned, now painfully confused by the exchange happening between the adults in the room.
Nick issued the reply without ever looking Noah’s way. His glare was on Jess. “You don’t need to ask her. I’m your dad, and I say yes.”
Jess was cornered, with only one way to answer if she didn’t want to ruin Noah’s day.
“Go ahead, bud,” she relented. “And then your dad has to go.”
“If he wants,” Nick replied, so condescending.
“No,” I stepped in, meeting his eye. “Not if. He leaves.”
Poor Noah ripped open his gift in the middle of the showdown and hugged his dad for the Tech Deck set.
“I’m going to leave now, Noah. Your mom and her boyfriend aren’t being real nice right now. But you were happy to see me, and that’s all that matters, right?”
“Right,” Noah replied, but he didn’t sound sure of anything.
Father and son exchanged goodbyes, but before Nick left, he got one last word in. “I told you I wanted to see my son. No need for a formal invitation.”
“Actually, there is. You only have supervised visitation rights.”
“What more do you want?” he scoffed, his hand sweeping over the back row of my brothers. “It’s supervised by half of fucking Hollywood.”
“Nick, please don’t swear,” Jess replied calmly. “He’s nine.”
“Like he doesn’t hear that shit coming out of your mouth. I know you, Jess. You’re no angel. You might have him fooled, but you don’t have me.”
“I’d appreciate if you didn’t speak to my girlfriend, and the mother of your child, that way.”
Uneasy, Noah took a step toward Jess. She reached out and grabbed him, drawing him back to her and wrapping her arms around his chest protectively. My hand went over the both of them.
“Oh, you’d appreciate it, would you?” Nick stepped into me, his chest inches from mine. Another waft of the heavy scent of alcohol told me Nick wasn’t in full control of his senses. “Well, I’d appreciate it if you took your hand off my kid.”
The stress of the confrontation was too much for his mind to process, and Noah emitted a soft, whimpering sound. Jess hugged him tighter.
“Cody,” she pleaded. “Please take him out of here before something happens that all of us will regret.”
But there would be no regrets today, at least not on my end. My brothers stepped up, forming a line of defense. Any violence coming my way would also have to contend with my entourage.
Cody’s eyes darted toward the door, making it clear he did not intend to throw himself on the sword for Nick like my brothers would do for me. He gripped Nick’s arm and dragged him back. “Nick, come on.”
I followed after them, making sure they found their way out. But Jess’s ex wasn’t ready to go. Ripping his arm out of Cody’s grip, he stood his ground. “Noah, does Quinn scare you? Is that why you’re crying? Come here, I’ll protect you.”
Clearly unsure what was expected of him, the boy looked to his mom and then to his father, dismay playing out over his face. It was a decision no child should ever have to make.
And, with tears trailing down his cheeks, Noah Ledger ran to me.
28
Jess: The Drill
I climbed over the top of Quinn, his hard body sending a current through me. My hair fanned out like an upside-down umbrella as I arranged a series of kisses along his face.
“Is it morning already?” His voice was rough with sleep, but that didn’t stop his barely awake fingers from sliding up my thigh. I wanted to be the first thing he touched every morning for the rest of his life. How lucky would that make me?
“It is,” I said, sucking in my bottom lip as his hand moved up my sleep shirt and traced the swell of my breast.
“And you want me to leave,” he said, knowing the drill well.
Every morning was the same thing. I set my alarm fifteen minutes earlier than Noah’s, then tiptoed into the bathroom to do my business before brushing my teeth and fluffing my hair. I would then sneak back in and place kisses onto my sleeping prince.
And every morning, he slipped out the front door for his trip to the Starbucks on the corner, where he would chat up his coffee mistress for a while before returning to an empty apartment, or if it were a weekend, to a well-rested Noah who was none the wiser.
“I never want you to leave,” I said, teasing him with the subtle swivel of my hips.
“How much time do we have?” he asked.
“Minutes.”
“I can do it in sixty seconds,” he bargained, grabbing his phone and setting the stopwatch.
I wrestled for his phone, snagging it out of his hand and holding it up.
“Look, woman.” He swiped for the phone. “You’re cutting into my performance time.”
“As tempting as sixty-second sex sounds, you know the drill.”
“I know the drill. I just don’t get the drill. Noah knows what’s going on. He’s not dumb.”
“He’s nine, Quinn. He’s a baby.”
Quinn’s brows rose.
“What?”
“Maybe I was an early adopter, but I was choking the chicken by the time I was his age.”
“No you were not!” I gasped.
“Yes I was. Why do you think god made opposable thumbs, Jess?”
“To grip stuff, you perv!”
“Exactly.” Quinn showed off his version of gripping ‘stuff,’ and it did not mesh with mine.
“All I’m saying is, I think Noah can handle me waking up here in the morning.” Quinn sucked in a breath, hesitating. “Look, Jess, I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but the other day when I was at Starbucks with Debbie… I had an espresso.”
My eyes widened. “You didn’t.”
“I did. I’m not proud of it, but you forced my hand.”
“How is this my fault?” I protested, struggling to fight back the giggle.
“Because you make me leave every morning. What do you expect me to do, sip hot chocolate the rest of my life? I’m a man, Jess. I have needs.”
I kissed his adorably sardonic lips before pushing him out of the bed. “Get.”
“Fine.” He rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “But if Debbie forces a tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle and two percent foam on me, that’s all on you!”
I knew he was kidding, but Quinn wasn’t wrong in his desire to stay put in the morning. After what happened yesterday and the way he’d handled the situation with Nick, Quinn had proven his devotion to us. And Noah was clearly smitten or he wouldn’t have chosen Quinn over his own father. So why keep up the charade? Maybe it was time to take the next step.
I pushed the bathroom door open and joined him at the sink, wrapping my arms around his waist and laying my head against his back. “I was thinking.”
“I know what you were thinking,” he said, wiping his face with the hand towel. “Two percent foam is just a jerk’s order in sheep’s clothing.”
“No.” I laughed. Good lord, I needed to save this boy from himself. “I was thinking… maybe you don’t go.”
He looked in the mirror. I peeked around the back of him to meet his eyes. He grasped my arm and brought me around to his side. “I’m listening.”
“So, you know I implemented the exile rule at the beginning so Noah wouldn’t get too attached in case you decided to leave, but…”
“After yesterday, that plan went all to hell,” he finished for me.
I smiled. “Are yo
u still gloating that he picked you?”
“I will always gloat about that.”
I draped my arms over his shoulders. “Move in with me.”
“Okay.” No hesitation—it was like he was finalizing a pizza order.
“Okay?” I questioned. “It’s a big step, Quinn. Don’t you want to think about it for a minute?”
“I already live here except for the forty-five minutes a day in the wee hours of the morning where I have to sneak off for my coffee fix.”
He had a point. “So, the answer is…?”
“Yes. Of course, Jess. You’re my obsession. Why would I want to be anywhere else?”
“Exactly. Why would you?” I agreed, running my fingers up his back while pressing kisses to his chest.
He groaned. “I wouldn’t want to, ever.”
I tiptoed my fingers along his skin. “And I was thinking before you go off on tour, we should find another place to live. One with security. I don’t want to be blindsided like I was yesterday when Nick showed up here unannounced. And your fans are also becoming a problem. They’re starting to figure out where we live and knocking on the door.”
“I’m all in with that, babe. I’ve been telling you for a while we needed to move. And if we get our own place, then your dad can have the freeway apartment all to himself without me ducking in every now and then for clothes.”
I smiled, kissing his nose. “I like it. A solid plan, because god forbid we get rid of the freeway apartment. I’ll start looking on the internet today.”
“I’m still unsure about this morning. Do you want me to head over to Debbie?”
“Actually, I think it’s about time the two of you broke up. Quinn, how would you like to have breakfast with Noah and me this morning?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Quinn and I announced his live-in lover status that very morning, although in not quite as vulgar terms, by sneaking into a snoozing Noah’s room, climbing onto his mattress, and jumping on his bed. If he was still traumatized by the events of yesterday, you wouldn’t know it. Noah rose from a dead sleep to join us in a three-person bounce fest.
And when we made our way into the kitchen for breakfast, he never questioned Quinn’s presence. Not once. Like, how many mornings had we wasted taking his feelings into consideration, when he couldn’t care less? And to top it off, I’d made Quinn a raging caffeine addict for nothing.
When Noah got up to grab something out of the refrigerator, I reached over and cupped Quinn’s cheek, feeling nothing but affection for this man.
“I love you.”
His eyes held me steady. “I love you too.”
Noah slid back into his chair, gripping the milk container, his head shifting from me to Quinn. And then, without a word, he poured the milk into his cereal.
Quinn was off to the studio early, as usual, and with Noah happily playing his video games, I took the opportunity to check apartment listings. I hadn’t gotten far in the process when a text came in from Andrea.
Have you checked social media, Jess?
No. Why?
You’re trending.
You mean Quinn?
No. You.
Me. Why?
Nick. He posted all about your arrest. Says you’re trying to trick Quinn into marriage. Says he’s trying to warn the McKallister family before it’s too late. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but I thought you needed to know. Such a shitty thing for him to do.
I dropped my phone and laid my head on the table, the fight beaten out of me.
Victory, once again, went to Nick.
29
Quinn: Eleventh Hour
“Brandon, how many days in a row have you worn that hat?” Matty asked.
During performances, Brandon went au natural, his bleached hair like porcupine quills. But during practice he was never without his black, green, and red Iron Maiden Piece of Mind cap.
“Don’t be hating on my baseball cap. Nicko McBrain, baby,” he said, pointing to the hat. “Only metal’s greatest drummer. And if you disagree, I’ll beat the bloody snot out of you.”
Mike, knowing exactly what buttons to push, said. “What about Tommy…”
“No!” Brandon flicked a drumstick at him.
“Lee,” Mike finished, getting the second drumstick catapulted at him.
“Let me tell you about Tommy Lee,” Brandon said. “Think of it in terms of art. Tommy Lee is equivalent to the painter Thomas Kincaid. Nicko McBrain is Michel Frickin’ Angelo.”
“Who’s that?” Mike asked.
“Michelangelo?” Brandon’s forehead wrinkled. “The guy who painted the Sistine Chapel?”
Mike shrugged. “I’ve heard the name, but don’t know who he is.”
“Seriously? Quinn, please. Help me out here.”
“Don’t look at me, dude. I thought Michelangelo was a ninja turtle.”
“Yes,” Matty agree. “Me too.”
“Guys.” Tucker popped into the room. “Stop everything you’re doing.”
Since we weren’t doing a damn thing, it was fairly easy to stop.
“What’s up, Tucker?” I asked.
“Just got a call from the label,” excitement lacing his words. “How would Sketch Monsters like to play The Basin?”
All four of our faces probably looked the same—stunned, excited, terrified.
“Hell yeah, we would,” I blurted out, unsure how or why we’d been granted such privileges but not dumb enough to turn it down. The Basin was a large outdoor arena reserved for the biggest names. Sketch Monsters was not one of those names. “They’re adding it to the tour?”
“No. Just one night. And you won’t be headlining, you’ll be opening—for Wylder.”
“Opening?” I slid up in my seat. “Is that the right move?”
“Normally I’d say no, but this is a great opportunity. It’s being filmed for a pay-per-view. They told me at least your last two songs will be on the recording, so we’ve got to save our best two for last.”
“We’re going to be on TV?” Matty asked.
“Well, you won’t be,” Brandon said. “The camera adds ten pounds of ugly. But the rest of us will be.”
Tucker clapped once to focus our attention. “Hey! Listen up. There’s just one catch, a rather large one. It’s tonight. You go on at six p.m.”
No way did I hear him correctly. “Tonight?”
“Yep. Not ideal, obviously. This is a last-minute changeup. The band that was supposed to perform woke up this morning spewing out both ends. Food poisoning, I’m told. Anyway, they’re all too sick to play. The label knows you guys have been preparing for your own tour, so they’re offering the gig to you first. It’s a sold-out arena. It doesn’t get much bigger than this. Are you in?”
There was no need to do a survey. Just by the hungry expressions on all our faces, I knew we’d be up on that stage tonight. “We’re in.”
“Quinn, can I talk to you for a second?” Tucker pulled me aside after all the details had been ironed out.
“What’s up?”
“We’ve got a bit of an issue with Jess.”
“With Jess?”
“Yes. Her ex is all over the internet accusing her of perpetrating a burglary. Says she was convicted of a felony. He’s also alleging that Jess is scamming you… and your family.”
I leaned back against the wall, speechless.
“Now look, I don’t want to be insensitive in any way, but is it possible these allegations are true?”
“No. I mean, yes. She pled guilty to first-degree burglary in juvenile court like ten years ago. She was sentenced to detention, but her record was sealed when she turned eighteen. And, no, Tucker. Jess is absolutely not trying to scam my family.”
“Okay. I know this is terrible timing, and I’m sorry this came out today. If you get a chance, let your family know what’s happening before this gets out of hand.”
“I will. I gotta go.”
“Meet back here no la
ter than two, Quinn. We’ll do a run-through and then we’ll head to the arena together. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.”
He gripped my shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry. Jess doesn’t deserve this.”
Just that Tucker took my side, took Jess’s side, said so much about him.
“No. She doesn’t.”
Swinging the door open to the apartment, I called out to her. “Jess!”
I darted through the place and into the bedroom, where I found her lying facedown on the bed, Noah rubbing her back. I grabbed her and folded her into a hug. She was limp from crying.
“Hey, everything’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. He ruined everything. Your family. They’re going to hate me now. They think I’m a bad person.”
“No, they don’t.”
Her face contorted in anger. “Please, Quinn. I’m not stupid. I know how this works.”
Noah was watching and hearing everything, his head turning from side to side as if he were watching a tennis match.
“Hey, kid,” I said, pointing him toward the door. “Why don’t you go watch TV?”
His forehead was wrinkled with worry. “Mom didn’t mean it, Quinn. She’s really sorry. Please don’t leave her. Please don’t leave me.”
I disengaged from Jess to deal with Noah. Grabbing him to me and hugging him tight, I whispered into his ear, “I’m never leaving you or your mom. That’s a promise.”
Noah’s tension unraveled before my eyes. He kissed my cheek. “I love you.”
My heart melted at his words. “I love you too. Now go watch TV. I’ve got to turn your mom’s frown upside down.”
“Okay,” he said heading for the door before turning back and kissing his mom’s cheek. “It’s okay, Mom. Quinn will make it better.”
Once he was gone, she said, “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“I do. We don’t.”
“What do you mean, we don’t?”
“We don’t fix it. Do you really think this is the first time we’ve dealt with stuff like this? I called my parents on the way over here and told them what happened when you were a teenager. They’re one hundred percent behind you. No one is blaming you. This kind of thing happens when you’re famous. People make shit up all the time.”