Blow My Fuse (Hollywood Demons Book 2)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chaser

  We made it home.

  Barely.

  The trip home was worse than I anticipated. I’m dying to get my hands on some coke.

  Dad knows what’s up as soon as he takes a look at me.

  “Mallory, can you go check on Chaser’s room?” he asks her in a casual tone that would ordinarily set off my danger radar. “It should be ready—”

  “Sure.” She pats me on the back before taking off. She may or may not mumble “good luck” as she races down the hall to get away from us.

  My father points to his office. “Get in there and sit your ass down.”

  Once I’m seated, he walks around me in a circle, disapproval rolling off him in waves.

  I struggle not to twitch while he assesses my condition.

  Finally, he drops into his chair on the other side of his desk.

  “Jesus Christ, son. You look like a bag of shit. What the fuck you get yourself into?”

  This sucks so fucking bad. No way do I want to admit to my father—the strongest motherfucker I’ve ever known—that I’ve developed a problem.

  Unfortunately, the sad reality is that I need his help to get sober. Time to set aside whatever remains of my pride.

  “You using?” he asks.

  I blow out a long breath before answering. “Yeah.”

  “At least you’re not trying to deny it.” He cocks his head and stares me down. I barely resist the urge to flinch under his harsh scrutiny. “You’re smarter than that. What the fuck happened?”

  I work my jaw from side to side. Truth is, my excuses are weak, and my father has a low tolerance for bullshit. “I started using a little here and there to keep up with everything.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  Nothing’s ever easy with this man. He’s gonna yank every last embarrassing detail out if it kills me. “Now, I’m too strung out to function.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just what I said.” I close my eyes for a second. Verbal sparring with my father won’t help my situation. “I need to lay low and get my head on straight.”

  And that’s as detailed as I’m gonna get.

  Miraculously, my vague answers satisfy him. He sits back and stares at me for a few seconds. “Proud of you, son.”

  “You’re proud I’m a cokehead?”

  “No, you dumb fuck. But you’re here. You did the hardest part—admitting there’s a problem. Now, you’re gonna man up and fix it.” He gives me a rare smile. “You’ll be okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What about Mallory?”

  “She never touches the stuff.”

  “Figured that. Her ass is too juicy to be snorting that shit.”

  “Watch it, old man,” I growl, pissed I gave him the reaction he was trying to provoke with that comment.

  He grins. “Where’s she at with you?”

  “Uh, fed up and about to leave my stupid ass.”

  The merriment slides off his face. “She came with you, so it can’t be that bad.”

  “I think she feels like it’s her fault.”

  “Is it?”

  “No.” I need to shut down that line of thinking right now. I won’t have him blaming my weaknesses on Mallory.

  He holds up his hands. “Just askin’.”

  “I’m a big boy. Fully capable of fucking up my life all on my own.”

  “Yes, you are.” He taps his fingers against the desk for a few minutes. “She plannin’ to visit her dad while she’s here?”

  “We never discussed it.”

  “Sit tight for a day or two. I’ll get someone in to clean up the house. You two can stay there, so you’re not putting up with this while trying to get yourself sorted.” He indicates the clubhouse, not that we keep drugs—or anything incriminating stored here in case we’re ever raided by the government—here, but it’s still not a quiet or sober environment.

  “I’m not going to some circle-jerking rehab.”

  “No shit, asshole. Last thing I need is you sittin’ around crying to a bunch of druggies about how your mean old dad didn’t love you enough as a boy.”

  He lets out a deep belly laugh as I shake my head.

  “Seriously, I’ll set you two up.” He pauses and stares at the phone for a beat. “If you can’t do it on your own, we’ll find someone we can trust—”

  “I can do it.” I can’t imagine anything worse than talking this out with a stranger. “Thanks, though. Appreciate it.”

  “Focus on getting clear-headed. You’re too smart to end up with a limp dick and swiss cheese for brains.”

  The irony of his statement is a punch to the balls.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chaser

  Vivid nightmares of little shadowy monsters chasing me down glowing red hallways startles me awake. The panicky need-to-escape feeling clings to me even after I shoot up and out of bed.

  No walls of fire. No monsters.

  Mallory’s sigh anchors me in the moment. I’m at the clubhouse. Not hell.

  No matter how strong you think you are, there’s no magic bullet cure for addiction. Back in L.A., coming home seemed to be my perfect remedy. I naively assumed removing myself from all the readily available coke would do the trick. Home would provide a refuge for me to re-center and recharge.

  Reality is a bitch-slap to the face.

  Unpleasant doesn’t begin to describe the sensations crawling through my body.

  My teeth click together, and a chill radiates through my chest, even though I’m still sweating from the nightmare.

  Careful not to wake Mallory, I search through my bag for some clean clothes. Keeping my eyes on her, I dress slowly.

  She whimpers, and I freeze.

  After a few seconds, she turns over.

  Maybe I’m not the only one having nightmares.

  I watch her for awhile, but she seems peaceful now.

  Sunlight’s barely peeking through the blankets nailed up over the window. Yesterday was a long, rough journey. She should be out for a couple more hours.

  Enough time for me to get myself sorted.

  The lock snicks into place behind me as I step into the hallway. I pause, listening for signs the noise woke Mallory.

  Nothing.

  All clear.

  Most of the doors I pass in the hallway are shut. Snores and… other sounds filter past the aging hard wood.

  “Where you headed?” My father’s gravelly voice cuts through the mostly silent clubhouse.

  Peering through the hazy glow cast by the neon signs over the bar, I make out his form, lounging on one of the couches against the far wall. A girl’s stretched out on the lumpy cushions with her head in his lap. She seems familiar, but I can’t place her.

  Did I go to high school with her?

  Doesn’t matter.

  “Out,” I answer.

  “Where?”

  “To clear my head.”

  He curls two fingers, motioning me closer.

  Fuck, just what I don’t need. The way I’m feeling right now, I won’t stand up to an interrogation.

  I’m about two feet away when he asks, “Where?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “You walking?”

  Good point.

  “Keys for the truck are in my office.”

  “Thanks.”

  The weight of his stare follows me, but I keep moving. One foot in front of the other.

  I grab the keys off his desk and force myself to take a breath.

  Need some fresh air to cure my restlessness. I’ll take a drive. Doesn’t have to be anything more than that.

  “Shouldn’t you get some sleep, old man?” I ask when I return to the common area.

  “I slept.”

  “And now you’re sitting here in the dark like a fuckin’ owl?”

  He grumbles and waves off the question. “Mallory okay?”

  “She’s asleep.”

  “I’
m gonna look for a car for her to use while you’re here. Know what she’d like?”

  That’s a shift in conversation I didn’t expect. “Why?”

  He nods to the keys in my hands. “She can’t drive that beat up thing.”

  “No, I mean where does she need to go?”

  He tilts his head and levels one of his penetrating ‘are you stupid’’ stares at me. “No need to make her feel like a hostage. Here, she’s got plenty of people to give her a ride, but once you settle into the house, what’s she supposed to do?”

  “We’re not settling into the house. We need to be back in L.A.”

  He continues staring a hole through me.

  I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. My father’s gonna do whatever the fuck he wants.

  And I really need to get out of here.

  “I don’t think she’s picky.” I try to adopt a more humble tone. “Thanks for thinking of that, Dad.”

  His suspicious father stare doesn’t relent. “Jay said something came into the garage that might work. You want to come down and look at it with me?”

  “Yeah, sure. Later, though.”

  He narrows his eyes.

  I blink.

  He doesn’t.

  A bead of sweat rolls down the side of my face.

  “Well, I’ll be back.” I turn and hustle away.

  “Stay out of trouble,” he calls after me.

  I wave at him over my shoulder and push through the front door, relieved to escape into the chilly first flush of morning.

  As much as I resent my father’s warning, I needed to hear it.

  Too bad, I still get in the truck and head to downtown Kodack. I suppose it would’ve been easier to break into our warehouse and “borrow” what I need, but I’d never steal from my club.

  Nope. I’ll roll into the city and purchase my coke like every other addict. Even if I were an active member, I wouldn’t want to use any Devil Demons MC contacts for this particular endeavor. Which means, it takes a while to locate a trustworthy looking fellow who isn’t offended when I only want to purchase a quarter gram. Bad sign. Whatever I’m about to buy has probably been stepped on so much, it’ll be more cornstarch than cocaine. Maybe that’s a good thing. I can wean myself off the shit instead of this insanity of stopping cold.

  “See you tomorrow.” He grins at me.

  “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

  Tomorrow. Fuck that. This is all I need. A little bit to get through this first day and then I’ll be fine.

  No more after today.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Mallory

  For the third day in a row, I wake up alone.

  Maybe it’s time to book a flight back to L.A.

  I promised Chaser I’d help him through this.

  Except he won’t let me help him. So far, he’s disappeared every day and returned high. I can’t decide whether I’m annoyed that he thinks I’m too stupid to notice or flattered he’s making an effort to pretend everything is normal.

  We barely speak. I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll start screaming and never stop. This has to be the lowest point in our relationship. While I’m aware our lives can’t always be sparkles and rainbows, it doesn’t mean I enjoy him lying and sneaking around.

  On the outside, I smile and help out around the clubhouse as much as possible.

  Inside, I’m boiling over with fury.

  Underneath my anger, I’m scared.

  What’s he doing all day? Is he in danger? Who’s he with?

  Worst of all, what if Chaser can’t beat his addiction?

  How long do I stay here and help someone who doesn’t want to be helped?

  After breakfast, Stump summons me into his office.

  “Chaser’s not here.” I stall. Being alone with Stump still scares me.

  “I ain’t looking for him. You and me need to talk.” Clearly people don’t often say no to Stump. Guess that explains where Chaser gets his bossiness from.

  Feeling like a naughty kid in trouble, I follow Stump through the clubhouse into his office.

  He motions for me to take the seat across from his desk. “How you doing, princess?” he asks after he settles into his chair.

  “Okay.”

  Kicking back, he thumps his boot-clad feet on the edge of the desk and clasps his hands behind his head. “I want you to be straight with me. This isn’t a protect-your-man sort of chat we’re about to engage in here.”

  “Uh, what do you want me to say?”

  “Where you at with my son?”

  “What do you mean? I left work behind to help him get better.” I stare him straight in the eye without flinching. “I’m here.” I’m tempted to add “but not for long if your son keeps lying to me.”

  He seems relieved, so I guess he believes me. “Good. That’s what he needs.”

  No, what your son needs is a kick in the ass.

  Now that he’s figured out where I stand, he turns more businesslike. “What’s he been up to?”

  “He doesn’t tell me.” I hate tattling on Chaser, but I also think being honest with Stump benefits Chaser in the long run. And frankly, I’m beyond pissed Chaser dragged me here only to ditch me and score drugs every day. “He’s still getting high. He’s careful not to do it in front of me, but I can tell.”

  “Fucker,” he grumbles. He shakes his head and stares at the closed office door. “You two need your own space. I’m having the house cleaned up, so it’s more suitable.”

  I’m not sure what he means by suitable. From what I remember, their home was lovely. Maybe a bit dated but still several steps up from where we live in L.A. “You don’t have to go to extra trouble for us, sir. We have money—”

  He tips his head down and lifts his hand in a “stop” gesture. “Don’t need your money, girl. What I’m asking isn’t fair to you. You two ain’t been together that long. Fuck, he hasn’t even put a ring on your finger yet. You don’t owe him shit. Yet, you’re here.”

  “I—”

  “Don’t interrupt me.” He waits to see if I’m going to open my mouth again, so I keep it shut. “Nothing in this world I respect more than loyalty. Need it in this life.” He taps his pen on the desk a few times. “How long’s he been doin’ coke?”

  “I…I’m not sure. I think he started when they went into the recording studio.”

  “All right. So not too long. I’m hoping he can kick this on his own. Not relishing the thought of dragging his ass to cokeheads anonymous or some other bullshit.”

  I snort out a laugh, because I can’t picture it either.

  “You two still…?” He waves his hand in the air, and for such a blunt man, I can’t understand what he’s hinting at.

  Oh.

  “I don’t think that’s your business, sir.”

  His eyes close briefly, and he shakes his head. “Everything is my business, girlie. You’ll learn.” He waits for a few seconds then sighs. “By your silence, I’m gonna assume there’s trouble in that department.”

  “It’s just because of the drugs,” I grumble, smoothing my skirt over my legs. And the fact that I’d rather punch Chaser than kiss him right about now.

  “You two plannin’ to have kids?”

  My head snaps up. “Excuse me?”

  He curls his arms together and makes a rocking motion. “Babies. You plannin’ to make some with my son?”

  “Uh, that’s also not your business.”

  “You don’t listen very well.”

  “Oh, I heard you, Mr. Adams. I just don’t agree that our sex life or reproductive plans are any of your business.”

  He cracks a smile, then full-out laughs. “Shit, I can see why he likes you so damn much.” He waves his hand at me. “Settle down. Just thinking a kid on the way might help him stay straight.”

  Completely insulted and embarrassed, my cheeks burn, but I fight through the discomfort to sit forward to make my point clear. “I hardly think now’s the time to bring a baby into our liv
es. Not when everything’s so…unstable. Seems unfair to do to a child, don’t you think?”

  He raises an eyebrow, but I keep right on going.

  “A baby’s not supposed to solve problems. I’d rather wait until our child’s going to have two functioning adults to care for him or her.”

  Done with my speech, I sit back and force myself not to break eye contact with the stunned MC president.

  As we continue staring each other down, he twirls a pen through his fingers without looking at it once. After a few too many beats, he laughs again. “I don’t know if I’ve ever met a woman who didn’t want to trap a man by gettin’ knocked up.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. I’ll assume he’s earning some money with his music.” He flicks his hand in the air in a dismissive way I don’t care for. “He stands to earn well with the club when he eventually takes over. If he ever comes home.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve never thought of him that way. And honestly, I’m not exactly in a hurry to be tied down with a kid myself.” I pick at a bit of lint on my corduroy skirt. “Before everything got messed up, we had a lot of fun in England. Did Chaser tell you he rented a bike for us over there? We can’t really do that with a baby strapped to the back.”

  “Ah, you’ve got a little wanderlust in you too, huh?”

  “I get it from my mother.” I don’t elaborate, and he doesn’t ask for more details.

  “All right,” he says, once again shifting gears. “I’m gonna set you two up and help you get him through this.”

  I feel a “but” coming on.

  “But in return, I need you to do something for me.”

  There it is.

  “What do you need, sir?” I work as much respect as I can into my voice to ease the tension in the room. I think I’ve smarted off to him enough for one day.

  “You been in touch with your father?”

  “No. He told me not to contact him.” While that’s true, guilt presses down on me. I haven’t given him a lot of thought while I’ve been off in California.

  “Well, he’s…concerned about you. I’d like you to pay him a visit once Chaser’s well enough to go with you for protection.”