Текст книги "Finn Beckett"
Автор книги: M. J. Fields
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Copyright © MJ Fields 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of MJ Fields, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
1st Edition Published: November 13, 2015
Published by MJ Fields
Cover Design by: K23 Design
Cover Model: Franggy Yanez
Photo credit Love N Books
First Edit by: C&D Editing
Final Edit by: Kellie Montgomery
Formatting by: M.L. Pahl of IndieVention Designs
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*Disclaimer*
This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. It involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are consenting adults over the age of 18.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue
Stars
Clouds
Storms
Beaches
It’s in the past
No Future
The Taste Left Behind
Bitter and Sweet
Sleeping Dogs Don’t Lie
Room Service
Hard to swallow
Auditions
Houston
Dallas
Orlando
Noah
Tampa
What Now
Jersey
Facing the Music
Head On
Epilogue
About the Author
Thank You
INTRODUCTION
I walked through hell, some of it caused by myself. Things were torn away from me that I would never get back. Hearts were broken beyond repair. Then mayhem ensued, and I lost who I was.
Music was always a part of it. Music almost killed me. It dragged me in, caught me up, and almost destroyed me. I lost who I was and became someone I never wanted to be.
Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. The release, the buzz, the electric guitar’s rage against all that was fucked up in the world. It took me away and made me feel something when I was a soulless nothing … until the high wore off.
Music also brought me back.
I woke to a Zeppelin song, face down in my own vomit, next to a pile of coke and with three naked women at my feet. Disgusted with myself, disgusted with them, I walked, and I walked alone.
One chance meeting, a golden opportunity, a chance of a lifetime changed it all.
The sins of the past are behind me now. The day has finally come when I will walk onstage, not as an opening act, but as the act. Hours before my dream comes to fruition, though, I run into a girl, one fucking girl, and I am back on the path of destruction.
When Memphis Black’s piece of ass ran out of Bader on August twenty-eighth, I was slightly astounded. Tally wasn’t a wild child, far from it; she was a preacher’s kid.
“Tales, you stealing purses now?” I look at the outfit she’s wearing and laugh. “Or selling your body?”
“Fuck you,” she yells in my face then steps back, her hooker heels breaking and causing her to fall into Memphis. “I hate you!” she then spews at Memphis.
“Is that so?” he snaps back, sweeping her up.
“Put me down, you asshole.” She starts to kick and scream.
“My purse!”
I look up when I hear that nails on a chalkboard voice to see a strawberry blonde in a pencil skirt running after Tally.
“Bring it on, bitch!” Tally is acting like a crackhead.
The purse falls on the ground, and the other chick lunges for it, but I snatch it up.
“You better hope there is something in this,” I mutter to Tally.
Billy has the other chick now, and River is laughing. Then Nickie D opens the door to the stretch Hummer, calling out, “Get them inside!”
I look at the girl who is glaring at me like I am public enemy number one, and the hair on the back of my neck immediately stands up. I don’t like her one bit.
Inside the car, Tally is freaking out and screaming, and the other chick is shooting poison darts at me with her fucking amber-colored eyes. The color makes me sick. She makes me sick. And suddenly I know damn well that Tally is freaking out for a good damn reason.
I grab the purse and dump it out, and the evil chick reaches for something. Through all Tally’s ranting, yelling, and freaking out, I know it’s an SD card, so I snatch it up while the evil bitch grabs a chain or necklace of some sort.
“You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?” I ask evil incarnate.
“None of your business. Now give me back my belongings and let me out, or I call the cops,” she says in an eerily serene voice.
The way my body and mind react to her is something unexplainable. She seems familiar to me, but I know damn well she’s not. I want her under me, but I don’t. I should back the fuck down, but I can’t.
“What’s your name?”
“Sonya. Sonya none-of-your-damn-business,” she says as she picks up her wallet, a pocket-sized photo album, and her phone.
She incites anger in me, an anger I haven’t felt in years.
“Okay, let’s just calm the hell down and sort this all out,” Xavier, the owner of our production company, interrupts with the words that were at the tip of my tongue. “Sonya, what’s on that drive?” She just looks out the window. “Sonya …”
“It’s not mine, haven’t seen it, don’t know, and really don’t give a damn.”
Nickie grabs his laptop and pops it in. “Fuck me, Memphis. Oh, yeah, baby, fuck me just like that.” It’s the bitch, Stevie’s voice.
“I’m gonna fuck you my way. You just lie back,” Memphis’s voice comes out loud and clear. “And enjoy the show.”
“Sure that’s me?” Memphis asks.
“If it looks like a duck, sounds like a duck, then fuck, it’s a duck,” River says as he sits back. “But we already knew this. Well, not all of us.”
“She knew! She saw me the next morning, all marked up.” Memphis grabs Tally’s wrist, and she flips her shit. “Tales, you fucking knew.”
I ignore the rest of the relationship meltdown as I watch the girl, Sonya, eye the door. Although she appears calm, she is a caged animal, waiting to spring free the second she gets a chance.
Tally suddenly pushes past all of us, opening the door, and I stick my foot out to block Sonya from getting out, as well. When she glares at me, I give it right back.
Nickie D grabs my attention, saying, “You wanna sit with her while I get—”
“I’d prefer to chew off my own damn leg than sit in here alone with her.” I point to Sonya none-of-my-damn-business.
“Finn, easy, man.” Xavier shakes his head, then whispers, “She’s just a kid.”
“She’s no kid; she’s a wild animal,” I respond, not giving two shits if she hears me, because she is. I can tell. She’s a fucking ticking time bomb.
“Just do it. We have enough shit to deal with trying to talk Memphis off the fucking ledge,” Xavier snaps at me.
“Fine, what-the-fuck-ever,” I blow him off, but he’s right. Memphis is all kinds of twisted up.
I step out of the car and look back at her pissed off face, which pisses me off even more. “Let’s go, None-ya.”
She doesn’t budge.
“Fine, have it your way. Sit your ass there. When Stevie falls, so will you.”
I walk a few steps before I hear gravel crushing behind me. Then I glance over my shoulder to see that she’s coming.
There is a storm cloud over her that is now hanging over me.
I hate storms.
I fucking hate them.
I walk into the dressing room, thankful the dark cloud that is None-ya, otherwise known as Sonya, was swept off by Xavier’s wife Taelyn, another one of our managers.
I head to the bathroom, and when I open the door, a cloud of smoke hits me hard.
“Shit, sorry, man,” River says, fanning away the haze of pot before he steps out into the band’s green room.
I haven’t touched the shit in years. Hate drugs, but is pot really a drug?
My womb, or as some would call a mother, was a fucking meth head. Dad tried to get her to stop, but it didn’t work. From the ripe old age of seven, I was taking care of the bitch while Dad was fixing bikes and muscle cars. He was making a paycheck in our two-car garage so he could someday make enough to add on to it and buy my mother a house. When she lost her job due to her lack of showing up, the burden of the mortgage for the singlewide trailer and five acres it sat on was his alone. Why the fuck he put up with her is beyond me.
I made dinner, usually boxed mac and cheese or Ramon Pride. If it was a good week, Dad would grill steaks outside on a Friday night while tipping back some beers with his friends. During hunting season, it was venison.
Mom didn’t care to eat. All she cared about was her next fix. Dad didn’t have it in him to fight.
When I was twelve, shit got really bad. She caught the place on fire. Mobile homes go up fast, and kids with meth head moms get yanked from their homes. Then dads who look the other way aren’t seen as much.
Ten miles from the charred up remainder of my “home,” there was a family who took in kids. They had horses and shit and treated us all well. Not everyone did the same to them.
“It’s pot, River.” I push past him and shake my head. “Give it to me.”
“Nah, man, you don’t—”
“Is it laced?”
“Fuck no.” He gets all defensive, like the question is ludicrous, when it’s legit for me to ask. He sees the look I’m giving. “I told you all this shit is real now. I will drink and smoke some pot once in a while, but I’m not shooting up. I’m not smoking anything but the real deal, home grown.”
I take Chilz from his hand and hit it hard.
“Motherfucker, old iron lungs has returned.” River smirks like the Cheshire Cat as I hit it again. “It’s the chick, isn’t it? She—”
“She ain’t shit,” I say, trying not to choke.
“Word. Bitches and hoes.” He holds his fist out for a bump, and I give him a lame one.
The door opens and Billy walks in. “I can’t do this,” he grumbles.
“A little late for that.” River laughs.
He sniffs the air. “Are you both—”
“Takes the edge off,” River interrupts.
While Billy looks at River then me then Chilz, I see an inner conflict before he sighs.
River holds up Chilz like he’s a fucking proud papa displaying his first born. “One hit won’t kill ya.”
“What if you get caught?” Billy eyes the room suspiciously. “What if there are cameras?”
“Just don’t do it, man,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re already paranoid.”
“The bathroom.” River points, and Billy snatches Chilz from his hand.
“One fucking hit, Billy. That’s it,” I tell him.
When he shuts the door behind him, I glare at River. “Not one of your brighter ideas, man.”
“He’ll be fine, Finn. Chilz will take care of him.”
The door opens and Memphis walks in, looking between the two of us. “You’re kidding me, right?”
River sighs. “Just took the edge off.”
“Where is it?” he asks.
Billy walks out of the bathroom with Chilz in hand.
“No shit?” Memphis chuckles.
Billy grins. “Just to take the edge off.”
“Aw, fuck, man, give me that.” Memphis takes it from him and skates into the bathroom.
We all just stand there, looking at each other.
“Edge definitely taken off.” I smirk.
Memphis walks out, grinning. “It’s either the beginning or the end. We started this together; we end it together. Let’s fucking go rock them our way.”
“We do it for us,” I say as we stand in a circle.
“In the words of the great Eddie Vedder, ‘It’s a great time to be me.’ ” Memphis puts his fist in.
“Jimmy Page once said, ‘I may not believe in myself, but I believe in what we’re doing.’ ” I put my fist in.
“Kurt Cobain, ‘Nobody dies a virgin; life fucks us all.’ ” River fists in.
“The amazing Billie Holiday once said, ‘The difficult, I will do right now. The impossible will take a while.’ ”
“We have done the impossible. Fuck, Billy learned guitar, River has laid off the heavy shit, and Finn … not sure what to say. Best bass around, and apparently he decided today was the day to put an end to the ‘Just Say No’ campaign, which I need the story behind, fuck-stick.” Memphis shakes his head at me.
“And you’ve got a steel dick.” River laughs his fool head off, talking about the piercing Memphis decided to get.
Memphis smirks. “All right, STD, let’s hit ’em hard”—we bump fists—“light ‘em up”—we blow it up—“and let’s go fucking rock ’em our way!”
We walk out the door and down the corridor, the entire Steel is crew here, including Momma Joe, and we’re all high. I laugh to myself.
Xavier narrows his eyes at us. “You fucking kidding me right now?”
Memphis chuckles. “Ready to rock, man.”
I have to look away so I don’t start laughing and shit, and when I do, I see her. My lip curls automatically, and the chick, None-ya, scowls at me.
I’m pissed she is still here, so I give her the same look she is giving me, then snap my teeth and bark at her.
Memphis loses his shit and starts laughing. Xavier looks at me like I have lost my mind, and hell, maybe I have. Regardless, that little bitch is no good. I can feel it. I can almost see the storm cloud looming above her head, and I want as far away from it as possible. Chicks like that lead to one thing: a fucking storm. The guy I used to be liked to chase the storm. I got sucked into it like it was some magnetic vortex.
Never again.
“She get her fucking shots yet?” I ask X-man.
“You, too?” he gasps, then throws his hands up in the air and walks away, saying, “What a fucking day!”
I glance back, and None-ya is chucking stars at me with her eyes. And when I say stars, I mean the sharp bitches that ninjas throw. She’s no starry-eyed fan girl looking to suck my dick or get in my bed. No, she means to wound.
I look at Memphis, who is making out with his girl. Then I look at River and Billy, both smirking, as the crowd seems to get louder and louder. Nickie D is introducing us and pumping them up. My band mates are eating it up, getting even higher on the applause than they already were.
“Let’s get some.” River pounds my back as I sling my guitar around me.
I feel the daggers in the back of my head, but fuck that. I’m not going to play the game and look over my shoulder at the bitch. I walk, and I walk alone.
I pull my aviators over my eyes before we take the stage in a storm of electric steel.
River beats us in, and then Billy and I play our asses off. I watch them eyeing the crowd, both looking in awe. I don’t even look. It’s me, the band, and the music when I have Black Mamba in my hands. The only time I put on a show for the crowd is when I’m singing. Then I give them a look inside, but not too deep.
Memphis, he’s another story.
When Memphis takes the stage and starts belting out “Bang, Bang,” the crowd roars, reaching a new climax. With his injured arm from the bar fight in Miami, he can’t play lead, so Billy is taking his place.
Tonight, I’m not singing. X-man and Nickie D weren’t all too happy with that. Then again, they know, when I’m done tweaking, when I’m ready, I will put on a fucking show for the people paying my bills while I’m doing what I love, what I do best, and that’s creating music that is balls deep.
***
We all head off stage at the end. They didn’t want us to stop playing. Fuck, I was so deep in the rhythm and beat, still buzzing from the hit I took when we came off stage for a set change, that I’m pretty fucking amped, too.
Tonight, we decide on not going out. Tomorrow, we’ll party.
I walk by Taelyn, who congratulates me. Then I look up, and standing next to her is None-ya. That fucking look on her face is still there.
“Thanks.” I nod at Taelyn and keep walking.
River and Billy, who have chicks surrounding them, wave me over. However, I draw my hand across my throat and point to the back exit.
I walk outside and see the chick who plays drums for Stevie Daniels’ band—I don’t know her fucking name—leaning against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette. She has long, dark hair tucked under a black beanie; and she’s wearing a black, tight-ass tank top, showcasing her rack nicely; a red and black flannel tied around her waist; and a short skirt. She’s hot, but not my type, which is perfect right now.
“You got a smoke?”
She looks me up and down. “Not menthol.”
I must look at her funny ’cause she smirks as she reaches into her black, little purse thing that’s slung across her chest.
She hands me one. “Pot heads smoke menthol.”
“Thanks. I’m not a pot head,” I say as she holds out her lighter. I inhale and let it burn. I haven’t smoked in years—not pot and not cigarettes—but something changed today, and I need it.
“Right.” She shrugs, then tosses her smoke to the ground, crushing it out with her thigh-high, black boots. “What are you looking at?”
“Your legs,” I answer bluntly. Why hide that shit?
“Like what you see?”
“Sure do,” I answer.
“You going out tonight with the crew?”
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Kellie.”
“Kellie with the boots. Thanks for the smoke.” I walk down the steps to my bike, then stop and look back. “I’m not going out.” I grab my helmet as she walks toward me, and I hand it to her.
“Nice bike,” she says as she puts the helmet on. I go to mount the bike, but she puts her hand out, stopping me. “I’m driving.”
“Is that so?”
“You sure as hell aren’t, four-twenty.” She mounts my bike like a pro and cranks her to a rumble.
I stand there in a cloud of confusion and exhaust. She did not jus—
“Where we headed?”
“My place,” I grumble as I swing my leg over and get on.
***
I wake up in the morning in a fog, feeling like a troll shit in my brain. I don’t miss that shit at all.
I roll over and see a note on the nightstand next to a half pack of Camel Lights. Grabbing the yellow piece of paper, I lie back.
Finn,
Thanks for the ride. I liked it better when you were in control. Hope you can keep that beast on the road. Would be a loss to all those women who haven’t had the opportunity yet.
Meeting with your management and my band.
May see you around. If not, it was a pleasure.
Kellie.
I take in a deep breath. I shouldn’t have brought her back. Not that it wasn’t well worth it since she was a fine piece of ass, but I crossed a line by fucking her.
I swing my legs over the side of my bed and force myself up.
Today is another day, a new day.
I can only hope I was just in a funk last night and that None-ya isn’t going to be an issue from here on out.
Today, I will force myself to walk alone … again.
I close the book and set it on the hotel room nightstand, taking a deep breath before throwing my legs over the bed, ready to take my first step of the day. Each step should become easier, but it doesn’t.
Seeing Finn Beckett yesterday brought on a plethora of emotions I wasn’t ready for. I have hated him for years now, so I was prepared for that emotion. What I wasn’t prepared for was the look in his eyes, those deep brown pools of muck.
The hair stood on the back of my neck. I could hear the blood rushing through my veins, feel my temperature rise. Then hate mixed with anxiety, and I could swear he saw something in me, something I couldn’t afford for him to see.
I walk across the floor and hit brew on the single serve coffee pot. I gave up coffee a long time ago, but today, I knew I would need it. Today, I had to face Xavier Steel, Stevie, and the band.
I stand under the steaming hot shower and tip my head back, allowing the water to hit my face. I take pleasure in the heat and the feeling. It reminds me of the days not long ago when I allowed myself to feel emotions and cry when I was sad. I don’t allow myself to feel sad anymore.
“Never again,” I whisper as I rub the washcloth across my stomach, then my arms.
After my shower, I dry off while looking at my reflection in the mirror. I am now a redhead. I don’t like that much at all, but it’s necessary. My body isn’t the same as it was when I was younger, dancing around the pool without a care in the world in a bikini during one of my mother’s parties.
Little girl is what he called me. I proved to him otherwise.
Johnny.
How is it that, when everything is right in the world, when everything is an abundance of perfect hues of pinks and sunshine, you can be so blind?
Johnny was older than me, the son of my mother’s gardener. He had dark skin and brown, wavy hair that hung in his eyes. His eyes were almost black, and deep inside, there was a darkness that teased me. He wasn’t like the boys at my prep school who wore khakis and blazers, the boys with a part just to the left of center and not a hair out of place. The boys whose immature and adolescent attention sickened me.
He was in his early twenties. I was sixteen.
I didn’t hate Johnny. I hate Finn.
***
I walk into Forever Four and sit down, waiting to face whatever it is that will happen today. For all intents and purposes, Forever Four is STD’s agent slash management slash producing label. They found them and made them who they are today: a group of four men—if they can even be called that—who are musically talented, which I can’t dispute, and out of control.
I sit back and straighten my skirt as I wait, looking around the large space. There is exposed brick, unenclosed steel beams and piping, a very industrial look, but it’s surprisingly appealing to the eye.
After yesterday’s catastrophes, I was ushered around by Taelyn Steel. Her hair is an auburn color, and as far as I can tell, it’s natural, unlike mine. She is tall, thin, beautiful, and seems more … refined than the others she works with.
She never once treated me like the enemy, which was kind of silly since I did have the file of Stevie and Memphis Black going at it with every intention of doing the job I was paid to do, the one I weaseled my way into. I was going to make it public, make it go viral. Not that I had a damn thing against Memphis Black, but a job was a job.
Stevie Daniels was hoping it would make her band soar on the coattails of STD, inevitably bringing her into the spotlight. She also has a thing for him. I can tell by the way she has looked at him.
It would have been easier if it was Finn she had lured into her overused bed at the pricey Miami Beach hotel she stayed at. It would have made my life easier, or so I thought until I saw him.
I run my fingers down my skirt again, a habit born of all those years I needed to be perfect. Mother wanted to raise a lady, and I wanted to please Mother … until I saw who she really was.
“How long have you been waiting?” I jump when I hear Taelyn’s voice.
I look at my watch. “Not long.”
She waves for me to follow. “They’re all in the conference room. Let’s go.”
I tell myself it will be fine—I will be fine. I will remain poised and not let anything shake me. I say it over and over in my head as I watch my feet touch the ground, fearing the self-talk, all the hype I am building up inside, will be for naught when I meet the eyes of Finn Beckett.
“Have a seat, Sonya,” Xavier Steel says as he walks toward his wife. I see him wink at her out of the corner of my eye and then kiss her cheek. “He asleep?” he asks in a low tone, obviously meant for Taelyn alone.
“I was wearing him down,” she whispers with a smile in her voice, “until he heard Kiki squeal ‘Pop Pop.’ ”
“Shit.” He chuckles. “Then it was all over.”
“Yep. His eyes popped open, and he got a grin on his face like he knew he was about to do something he shouldn’t. Hmm … Where have I seen that before?”
In a very hushed tone, he whispers, “Peering up from between your legs?”
I look around to see if anyone else has heard him, but everyone is looking down at the files in their hands. Lucky me, I grumble to myself.
I hear a loud smack, and Xavier laughs loudly. “Irish, you shouldn’t do shit like that.”
I look up to see he is rubbing his arm.
“Wrong arm, Xavier.” She laughs, blushing.
“My bad. Now sit down, Mrs. Steel; you’re late.” He pulls out her chair, and she sits. He then leans over and kisses her head.
“Sorry, ladies.” Taelyn takes the folder her husband pushes over to her before sitting down in the chair to her left.
Shaunna, the band’s bass player; Courtney, acoustic guitarist; Kellie, the drummer; and Stevie all smile.
I am a little shocked. They all seem … different. Giddy?
“We were up late last night, hammering out all the details of the contract. Stevie Daniels stays the band’s name if the other four of you agree,” Xavier says, taking a sip of his coffee.
“As it should.” Stevie winks at him.
I swear I see Taelyn’s eyes roll while Xavier doesn’t respond to Stevie’s obvious flirtation. Instead, he reaches over and hooks his pinky with his wife’s.
He then looks at Stevie sternly. “That’s not a choice for you to make alone. It’s what the four of you decide collectively and agree on.”
Her face turns red as she looks toward the girls. “We do, don’t we?”
Shaunna is the first one to speak up. “I’d like some time to think about it.”
Stevie gasps. “Are you serious? This band’s success, as small is it may seem, came from my name.”
“It may also be what’s holding it back,” Kellie says, tapping her fingers on the table.
“I would like time to think about it, as well,” Courtney pipes up. “And by the way, it had a hell of a lot to do with talent to begin with and Sonya’s social media influence.”
“I know we’re talented … all of us. I wouldn’t have used my own money to start this band if I didn’t think so,” Stevie says, trying to remain calm.
“And the recent spike in our following has been Sonya’s work,” Courtney says.
“Yes, her little blogging gig did help.” Stevie leans forward and looks at Courtney. “That’s why I hired her.”
Taelyn looks down at the pile of papers. “You hired her a few months ago. She was following you on her blog for months, doing the work without being paid, doing it as a fan until”—she pauses and leans forward, just like Stevie did to Courtney—“you needed her for something a little less music-related.”
Stevie’s face burns bright red and her eyes narrow, but only a little. She is trying to keep herself together. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep my dream alive.”
“Which is why you’re going to sign the contracts and take a week to get back to me with the name you have all agreed on,” Xavier says in an even, all business tone.
“And if we don’t?” Stevie threatens.
Courtney clears her throat and begins signing her contract. Then Shaunna and Kellie do the same.
“You ladies do know we can do this without this company, right?” None of them look up at Stevie. “With Sonya, we can do—”
“That brings us to the next reason for the meeting,” Taelyn interrupts her. “Sonya, what was Stevie paying you?”
“It was more by the—”
“Sixty thousand a year,” Stevie interjects. “That’s the salary, and I was offering her bonuses when available.”
I am a bit taken aback by this. I was never offered anything like that.
Taelyn’s eyes narrow a bit before she looks back at me and smiles. “We want you on our pay—”
“That’s not fair,” Stevie says, standing up and slamming her fist on the table. “She is—”
“If all goes well, she will still be helping you and your band grow.” Taelyn stands coolly and sets her cup down on the table. Then she turns to Stevie. “If you don’t take the contract, and she doesn’t have one in writing with you—”
“I thought this company believed in this brotherhood shit!” Stevie yells.
Xavier stands and wraps his arm around his wife’s waist, pulling her closer. “Why the fuck do you think you got an offer?”
“Excuse me?” she gasps.
“Sign it, and we make nice. Don’t, and we fuck—”
“X, I’ve got this.” Taelyn smiles at him.
“I know you do, Irish, but fuck.”
Nicholas DeAngelo stands up, a six-foot tall, light-skinned black man with black ink peeking out of his sleeves as he rolls them up. “I have it from here. Why don’t the three of you take the rest of this to your office, Xavier?”
When I don’t move, Taelyn walks over and bends down. “Ninety thousand, bonuses, and benefits.” I look up and try to hide the shock. “Retirement and vacation, too.”
I stand up and follow Xavier and Taelyn Steel out of the conference room.
“You’re fucking stupid, Sonya!” Stevie yells. “You were nothing until me.”
I look back at the woman who once unknowingly added fuel to a spark that had laid dormant for years. She got me to step out for the first time and go after something, but now I know what her plan has been all along, and it just doesn’t fit with who I am. What Taelyn Steel is offering, on the other hand, seems promising.
Once in the office, we sit down.
“What will it be?” Xavier Steel asks.
“Where do I sign?”
