Текст книги "Rock Bottom"

Автор книги: R. K. Lilley

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

I missed my chance, and we were in the party again, mingling with dancers.  Somewhere along the way, she was separated from me.

When she reappeared, and she wasn’t alone.

“Tristan, this is Anthony, my dance instructor, and my partner, Preston.”

It’s a punk name, I thought.  I smiled at him.  It felt unpleasant.  “Nice to meet you.”  I managed not to say it through my teeth.

He tried to smile back, but he had to tilt his head back to look up at me, and I could tell that I intimidated the hell out of him.  Good.  I planned to scare the shit out of him before we left tonight.  He may as well know what I’d do to him if he made a move on my girl.

Danika moved just out of earshot as her instructor introduced her to some other dancers.

“Two cops Tasered me at the same time once, and it barely phased me,” I told Preston the Punk, my tone quiet and idle, my smile nasty.

He turned an interesting shade of green.

Danika and Anthony rejoined us, introducing us to someone or other, and I watched Anthony’s hand at her waist.  I didn’t much care for him, either, but at least he hadn’t been pawing her on the ballroom floor mere hours before.

The group made small talk, but I stayed quiet, watching Danika, and the way she smiled, the way she laughed.  She seemed happy here, with these people.

Preston was hell-bent to get on my shit list, and he sidled close to her often.  Once he even went down on a knee in front of her, handing her a red rose with a flourish.  When she moved her hand to take it, he grabbed and kissed it, making some comment about how he loved working with her.

She waved him off, but he stood, embracing her to whisper in her ear.

I don’t even remember moving towards them, but I was suddenly there, close enough to touch.

I moved between them, bumping him away from her.

“That’s enough,” I said, wrapping my arm around her waist.

She gripped my shoulder.  “Please, Tristan, don’t—“

“Okay, I won’t, but tell him not to touch you again.”

“We’re dance partners!” Preston said, flushing hotly.  He still looked scared of me, but not scared enough, clearly.  “We have to touch!”

“Not now you don’t.  You aren’t dancing now.”

“Tristan, please!” Danika said quietly, sounding mortified.

“Okay, okay,” I said, to calm her, but I was looking at Preston.

I let her go, giving him a fake smile as I held out my hand to shake.  “Sorry, man,” I offered.

He reached his hand out to shake mine, looking none too happy about it.

I grinned as I gripped his hand tight, moving a step closer to give him a pat on the shoulder.  I squeezed his hand hard, harder, pounding him on the back.  I just wanted to give him a taste of what I could do to him, how much stronger I was.

As I pulled back, I saw from his wide eyes that he’d received my message loud and clear: I could crush him.

In fact, I was looking forward to it.

We went from that mingler to another party, and still Preston stayed close.  It irritated me.  But I suspected that everything he did that might remind me of his existence, of those hands of his handling my woman with such authority on the dance floor, would irritate the hell out of me.

I kept my hands on her, casually, possessively, constantly.

I staked my claim on her with my touch with no reservations, or compunctions.

I’d keep my hand on her waist while she introduced me to a friend or acquaintance, or stroke her hip while we listened to her instructor gush about her.  I’d stroke a hand up to her ribs, pulling her close, my fingers skating close to her breast.

She never moved away from my touch, always shifted closer, no matter that this wasn’t the appropriate place for it.  She denied me nothing.

I met Preston’s curious eyes as I let my hand drift over her body, eventually stopping to cup her ass.  Mine, my eyes told him.  You might borrow her for a spin on the dance floor, but this was all mine.

I smiled at him, showing my teeth.

The first second I caught her alone in a hallway again, I kissed her.  I turned my head and took her mouth for long minutes, thrusting my tongue into her mouth in an aggressive seduction.

I pulled back to look at her sweet face.  Her eyes were closed, her expression soft, her mouth slack with desire.

There was no subterfuge here.  There never had been.  Not from her.  From the very beginning, I’d been able to read the sweet passion in her eyes, the artless response, the undeserved devotion.

This woman loved me.  I kissed her again.

She pulled back with a gasp.  “I think we should be going.  Let me go tell Anthony and Frankie.”

I headed to the bathroom.  As though it were fate, I wound up running into Preston on my way out.

He nodded politely to me, waiting for me to move out of his way.

I just stared at him.

He had clear, guiltless eyes.  They irked me.  He’d probably never done a thing in his life that made him hate himself, which made me hate him a little just thinking about.

Perhaps if I was some blank slate punk of a man, I’d deserve her love.

But I wasn’t that.  I was a mess of a man, with a list of regrets so long that it haunted my every waking hour, and made sure I couldn’t sleep without chemical assistance.  But I’d be damned before I let this punk move in on my girl.

“We’re taking off,” I told him.  “To be alone,” I couldn’t seem to help adding.

He nodded.  “You’re a lucky man.”

My lip curled.  “You bet I am.  I’m sure you’re wishing you were lucky like me.”

He just nodded again, his smile pleasant.  “I can’t deny it.  She’s one in a million.  Sweet, beautiful, talented.  Funny.  She’s always cracking me up in the dance studio.”

That infuriated me to a ridiculous degree.  I took instant offense.

“You think you know her like I do?” I asked him.

His eyes widened in innocence.  “I wasn’t trying to offend.  You don’t have any reason to be defensive.  She’s loyal—“

I didn’t let him finish, gripping the front of his shirt in my hands, lifting him up on his toes.  I shoved him back against the wall, getting in his face.  “Don’t even think about it!  You’ll never have a chance with her.  Never.  So if you think that if you just put enough time in, that somehow, someway, you’ll get your shot with her, you can forget it.  I’ll always be here, in your way.  For-fucking-ever, you understand?”

He didn’t have anything to say to that, just looking at me with wide, frightened eyes.  I let him go in disgust.

Good, I thought.  Anything was better than him talking and revealing just how much he cared about her.

I only realized as I turned away from him that we had an audience.

Frankie, Estella, Anthony, and of course, Danika stood just a few feet away, all looking at me with different degrees of baffled horror.

Frankie’s reaction was the easiest to take.  She smacked her hand to her forehead, muttering, “What the fuck, man?”

Estella’s eyes were wide and shocked, but she didn’t say a word.  More intimidated by me by the minute, I thought.

Anthony shook his head back and forth, throwing his hands in the air like I’d done something way crazier than grab a guy’s shirt.

Danika just watched me, arms crossed, eyes troubled.  After one pregnant moment, she looked away, striding to Preston.

She touched his arm, asking if he was all right.

“I’m fine,” he said shakily.  “I’m fine.  Just a misunderstanding.”

Unaccountably, that just made me want to deck him.  Hard.

She gave him a quick hug.  “Thanks for being cool about this.  I’ll see you next week.”  She let him go quickly, turning away.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm, saying something too low for me to catch.

I body checked him.

Danika moved into my chest, trying to shove me away from him.  I let her.  As long as she was coming with me, I was fine with that.

She ushered me out of there like the place was on fire.  We didn’t speak until we were driving home in her car.  I just left mine behind.  I’d get it later.

“Why Tristan?  Why did you behave like that?  Did he say something awful?”

I shook my head.  My excuse was not so solid as that.  “He’s just so fucking pleasant.”

She shot me a wild-eyed look.  “Are you kidding me?  You attacked a guy, my friend, because he was being pleasant?”

My hand cut through the air in a negative motion.  “No, though that didn’t help.  He’s just the kind of naive fucker that reminds me how fucked up I am.  Life must be a fucking picnic, to grow up and never have a bad thing happen to you, like your Preston there.”

“First of all, he’s not my Preston.  And second, you don’t know a thing about him, or what he’s been through.”

“Oh, was I wrong then?  Does he not come from a perfect fucking family, with two parents, probably still married, who think the sun sets in his ass?”

Her mouth twisted, and I could tell she was trying not to smile.  “How did you know that?  What did you guys talk about?”

“I could just tell.  The stars in his eyes are too fucking shiny.  And we talked about you.  You know he has a thing for you, right?”

She grimaced.  “He knows I’m not interested.”

“So that’s a yes, you do know.  How fucking perfect.  You’ve got a bullpen all ready in case I screw up.”

She pulled over, turning to look at me.  “What’s gotten into you?  Did something happen?”

I closed my eyes, my head dropping back against the seat.  I was being an ass, and I damn well knew it.  I’d let my jealousy get the best of me, and I felt like a tool because of it.

“I’m sorry, alright?” It was a plea.  “I know I was a jerk.”

“Tristan, answer me.  Did something happen?”

I hated talking about some things, and this was one of them.  “My mom called me earlier just to tell me that she missed Jared, and that she still blamed me.  Sweet, huh?”  It didn’t matter how old I got, my mother could still make me feel like scum in a few short sentences.

She made a soft noise of sympathy, unbuckling her seat belt, and climbing over to my seat, hugging me tightly.

I squeezed her back so hard that the breath whooshed out of her.

“Oh, Tristan, you know how wrong she is, don’t you?  You know she’s just lashing out, right?  She’s like a wounded animal, attacking anyone that gets in reach.”

“Yes, I know,” I spoke softly into her hair.  That wasn’t precisely true, but it was the easiest answer.

I needed her comfort more than I needed her sympathy.

“Are you mad at me over the Preston thing?” I asked her.  I didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but I needed it if I was going to take my next breath.

 I’d been out of line, there was no doubt, but she didn’t hesitate.  “No, Tristan.  I just want you to take better care of yourself, and I need you to work on your temper.”

“I will,” I promised, my tone solemn.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DANIKA

I got a short text from Tristan, asking me to meet him at a specific time at his apartment.  I’m not sure what got my back up, but I was suspicious right away.  The message just didn’t feel like Tristan.

Something was up.  I knew it in my gut.

I called him.  And called, and called.  I left him text after text, but his responses were short, each one stressing the exact time I should come over to his place.  I couldn’t put my finger on why, but the whole thing reeked of Dean.

I made a point of showing up early, letting myself in the door.  I was very quiet.  Deliberately stealthy, in fact.

I could hear Dean talking loudly somewhere in the house, and a female voice responding.  As I got closer, I could tell that it was Nat.  I waited on the other side of the wall from the hallway that led to the two bedrooms, trying to make out what they were saying.

I only caught about every third word, but I could tell they were plotting something.  Something nasty.  And all the while, not a peep out of Tristan.

Dean said a terse good luck to Nat, moving into his room and closing the door.  I moved.

The hallway was empty as I made my way to Tristan’s bedroom.  I knew what that meant, but I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing as I slowly opened the door to his dark bedroom.

I switched on the light just as a topless, fake tits barely jostling Twatalie was slipping her skirt and panties down past her knees.  She was a good six feet from the bed, where a passed out Tristan wasn’t so much as twitching.

She started when she saw me, looking guilty as hell.  The irony was, if she’d actually been hooking up with my man behind my back, I doubted she’d have shown an ounce of guilt about it.  Getting caught faking it, though, now that threw her off.

“Are you serious?” I shouted at her, pissed beyond all measure.

The skank didn’t even have the decency to put her clothes back on, instead letting her skirt drop completely to the floor and stepping out of it.

She shrugged at me, her guilty look transforming into a nasty sneer in the time it took her to respond.  “Sorry, Danika.  We couldn’t seem to help ourselves.  You know we have this long history together.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I repeated, starting towards her.  I wanted to wrap my hands around her spray-tanned little neck in the worst way.

She took a step back, then another.  “We couldn’t stay away from each other.”

I spared my sleeping Tristan another glance.  It was alarming how still he was.  “What did you do, drug him?  Are you really that desperate?  And did you really think I’d fall for this, when I just caught you undressing, with him already asleep?  Didn’t think I’d come early, did you, you stupid bitch?”

“Fuck you!” she screamed.

I backhanded her, making her stagger back.

It was the single most violent thing I’d ever done in my entire life, and I wasn’t finished.

She tried to scratch me as I grabbed her by the hair, and slapped her again, and then again, batting her hands away easily.  My white-hot rage had given me the edge of strength.

I shoved her hard to the ground, taking a few steps back, disgusted that I’d even had to touch her.  “Did you think that if I broke up with him, he’d want you again?  Quit deluding yourself.  You’ve slept with half of Vegas.  You are used goods, and he will never want you again, you dumb whore!”

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head to look just as Dean filled the doorway, his shit-eating grin completely out of sync with what was going on.

“Aw, busted!” he said, pleased as punch.  “Tough break, Danika.  Looks like Tryst had a case of the ex.”

I grabbed the nearest hard object (an ashtray) and threw it at his head.

He barely dodged it.

“You piece of shit!” I shouted at him.  “You thought I’d fall for this?  You’re as transparent as glass, you idiot.  I heard you plotting this nonsense out weeks ago.  I saw this coming a mile away.  What are you thinking?  Do you want Tristan to leave the band?  Because that’s what’s going to happen if I tell him about your part in this.”

Now his reaction looked appropriate.  He looked worried.

I moved to Tristan, feeling for his pulse.  He was just so still, I’d had to check.  It was there, steady and sure, though slow, I thought, and he stirred slightly at my touch, but didn’t rouse.

“What did you do to him?” I snarled at Dean.

“Nothing!  I fucking swear!  He did that to himself.  The rest I’ll fess up to, but not that shit.  He just needs to sleep it off.”

He sounded sincere, but I studied him hard, wondering if he was lying.  I wouldn’t put anything past him, at this point.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?  What did you hope to accomplish with that stunt?  Do you want him to kick your ass?”

He shrugged, that infuriating grin still on his face.

“Seriously, what do you want?”

“I want you gone,” he told me, still smiling.  “Ever since he got all caught up in that pussy of yours, he’s a different guy.  As long as he’s with you, every deal the band gets, every opportunity, is going to be fucking ruined by Yoko Ono.”

If my stare could have caused him physical harm, he’d have dropped dead on the spot, bleeding from a million vicious wounds.

“I know how it is with you two,” he continued.  “You think I haven’t heard you?  What a joke.  I’ve seen you together.  You aren’t fucking subtle.  You think you can fuck in my kitchen and I won’t see it?  I’ve watched you.  In the living room, against the door, I’ve seen firsthand how you lead him around by his dick; how you squeeze it so hard when you’re coming that it scrambles his fucking brain.  You’re good, I’ll give you that.  You’ve got him so deep inside your pussy that he can’t see straight.  But I can.  If it’s a choice between you or the band, and it is, I choose the band.  I choose this fucking sweet deal we’ve been given, but because of you, Tristan may just throw it all away.”

I had to swallow down my bile before I could even speak to him.

“Well, that is his choice to make.  What did you think would happen tonight?  If this plan worked out just how you wanted, do you think he’d thank you for it?  He’d never speak to you again, so you’d have blown this sweet fucking deal yourself.  How about, you stay out of our business, just leave us alone, if you want even a shot of him finishing up that record with you?  And if you’re real good, if you can refrain from speaking to me again, I won’t tell him about this stunt, which is more than you deserve.  We clear?”

The bastard agreed readily enough, but still I knew that he couldn’t be trusted, and I debated all night whether or not to tell Tristan what had happened.  The problem was, I didn’t know how he’d react, and that scared me.  His temper was a volatile thing, especially when it coincided with his protective streak.

I didn’t sleep, too worried and troubled over what I should be doing.  I could get him to respond, and I did every few hours, just to be safe, but then he’d quickly go back to sleep.  At what point did he need to go to the hospital?  When did you know if a person had overdosed?  I couldn’t even believe I was having to wonder this.  What had I ignored, that he was this far gone, and I hadn’t known it?  We were too good of a match in some ways.  I was the enabler to his addict, and even knowing that, I’d let too much go for things to get this out of hand.

In part, I blamed myself, and even knowing how screwed up that was, I couldn’t let the feeling go.  I needed to somehow take better care of him, so nothing like this happened again.  I was always too busy with one thing or another, and I needed to find more time to fix this, to help him survive his demons, because it was clear that they were eating him alive.

I looked up his symptoms, and kept vigil through the night.  He wasn’t conscious for any length of time again until late afternoon the next day, and I’d been through so much by then, mood swing after mood swing, that I didn’t have the heart to really lay into him.

Even after he woke, it was a while before he was lucid enough to speak to, but when he was, I said quietly, “You can’t do this again.  It’s not fair.  You need to start taking care of yourself.”

He didn’t protest, in fact agreed easily.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.  It won’t happen again.  Have you been here since last night?”

I nodded.

I didn’t tell him that every second had been torture for me.

There was an anchor, tied around both of his ankles, and it was taking him deep, into black fathomless depths, drowning him slowly but surely.

I didn’t tell him that he was dragging me down with him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

DANIKA

I was lying on the carpet like a five year old, Mat on one side of me, Ivan on the other.

“Three in a bed and the little one said!” Ivan shouted out of tune more than sang.

“Roll over!” Mat screamed back.

“Roll over!” I sang.

We all rolled and since we weren’t in a bed, Ivan jumped up instead of falling down, backing two steps away with a grin.

“Boo!  Your turn!” Mat complained, nudging me.

“Two in a bed and the little one said!” I sang out of tune, but at least I wasn’t screaming.

“Roll over!” Mat screamed, rivaling a death metal chorus with his volume level.

I got up, backing away to let Mat finish the game.  I’d promised him one round of Rollover before dinner.

“One in a bed and the AWESOME one said, Rollover! ROLLOVER!”

He rolled, and stood up, grinning.  “I win.”

“That game doesn’t have a winner, stupid,” Ivan told him.

“Hey, now!” I chided.  “We don’t use hurtful words.  I hear that again, you are going to your room.”

“Okay, boo.  What’s for dinner?  Can I help?”

I smiled at him, thinking he was the sweetest kid in the world.

“Yeah, boo, what’s for dinner?”  Tristan’s deep voice called from the front door, where he’d been standing for God only knows how long.

I smiled.  As always, I’d missed him like crazy, but I stayed where I was.  We made a point not to practice PDA in front of the kids, and I was pretty sure I’d jump him if I got within ten feet of him, so I just stood there and took him in.

He looked strung out, but his eyes were soft on me and smiling, and since I didn’t want to fight, I didn’t mention it.  “I got dibs on helping you with kitchen duty, though.  I’m pretty sure I outrank the eight year old.”

“Hey!” Ivan protested.

“You let me help her, I’ll make you my famous cookies after dinner.  Deal?”

“‘Kay!” he said, already racing from the room.  With the deal made, he was already onto his next amusement.

“We missed you, Twistan,” Mat said, giving him a big smile that showed off his recently lost front teeth.

“I missed you too, kiddo.  And I love your singing voice.  I see a metal band in your future.”

Mat’s nose wrinkled.  “What’s that?”

I shook my head.  “We’ll explain it when you’re old enough to care.  In the meantime, will you go tell your mom that dinner will be ready in thirty minutes?”

“‘Kay.”  He shuffled away, stopping briefly to head-butt Tristan on the leg on his way out of the room.  Tristan ruffled his hair in return.  It was adorable.

The kids were out of sight and we were in the kitchen before he gave me a proper hello.

“Missed you, boo,” he murmured as he pulled back from a long kiss.  “And seeing you with those kids…”  He swallowed hard.  “I can’t wait to see you as a mom.  You were made for it.”

I pulled away from him and got busy with the meal, blinking back sappy tears.  He hugged me from behind, his hand pushing into my stomach and rubbing.  “That sounded way too general.  What I meant was, I can’t wait until you’re the mother of my children.  I think I want five.”

That made me smile.  I covered his hand with my own, taking a deep breath.  “Who knows?  I could already be pregnant.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” he nuzzled into my neck.

“Wouldn’t it though?” Each word was clipped out neatly through my teeth.

I wanted to say more, but lost my nerve, and the moment passed.

We were walking with the kids and the dogs, a leisurely after dinner stroll.

The boys spotted some of their buddies playing in the grass, and ran off to join them.

Tristan and I stopped, letting the dogs roam on the far end of their leashes as the boys greeted their friends.

Tristan had the brunt of the leashes, so I had one hand free, and I was clutching my phone with it.  I couldn’t find words.  It seemed easier to express myself in pictures for this.

There was something so inherently nerve-wracking about breaking this news to him.  We’d talked about it endlessly.  And no one could say we hadn’t been giving it our best efforts.

Even so, my hand was shaking as I showed him the picture on my phone.

It showed the result of three pregnancy tests.  One had a blue cross, one read simply Pregnant, and the third contained two dark pink parallel lines, one line slightly more faded than the other.

Three positive results, by three different brands.  I was nothing if not thorough.

He didn’t react much at first, as though his brain wasn’t making sense of it.  Slowly, his brow furrowed, his mouth forming a question.  He grabbed my phone out of my hand, pulling it closer to his face, though his eyesight was keen.

“What the…?” he asked, his voice a croak.  “What on earth…?”

It shouldn’t have been a shock to either of us that we’d been successful, all things considered, but it had certainly been a shock to me.  Him as well, it was apparent by the slack-jawed surprise on his face.

Belatedly, I realized that he’d dropped the lone leash from his right hand.  The most troublesome one.

I gasped and pointed.  Coffeecup had taken off at a sprint and was nearly out of sight.

“Coffeecup!” I exclaimed.  “The chickens!”

“Shit!” Tristan shouted, handing me the rest of the leashes, shoving my phone in his back pocket, and tearing off after the hair-brained dog.

“Bad word, bad word!” Several of the kids in the yard pointed out.

I’d have smacked my forehead if I had a free hand.

I didn’t tear off after him, as I normally would have.  I wouldn’t be running through ditches, chasing after dogs again, any time soon.  Instead, I held onto the rest of the leashes and waited, my heart in my throat.

The boys approached me, looking concerned.

Mat tugged on my shirt.  His eyes were wide, his mouth shaped into an O.  They’d been talking with their friends, and hadn’t seen the initial escape.  “What happened, boo?”

“Coffeecup got loose.”

“Oh no!” Mat cried.

“It’s going to be a blood bath!” Ivan added, sounding a little too gleeful about the notion.

“Ivan,” I chided.

“It looks like chicken for dinner!” he announced loudly, with relish, sending the neighbor kids into peals of laughter.

I rolled my eyes.  Boys.

“Maybe he won’t kill too many,” Mat assured me, studying my face.  “Don’t worry, boo.  I think he ate right before we left the house.”

I couldn’t stifle a laugh at that, kissing the top of his head.

Tristan returned quickly, Coffeecup in tow.  He was running.  I studied Coffeecup, but I didn’t see any blood around his mouth, which was good.

“I caught him in time,” Tristan gasped as he stopped in front of me.  He handed Coffeecup’s leash to Mat, and handed off the rest of my leashes to Ivan, his grin so big it was blinding.

After the dogs were squared away, he approached me, finally meeting my stare.

His hands went to my hips, and he hoisted me up high, spinning me.

What I saw in his eyes then…wonder, joy, and undisguised longing.  It was all I could have hoped for.

He’d wanted this, truly wanted his, as I had.

“I can’t quite believe it,” he said softly as he lowered me.

My smile was tremulous.  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

His smile was as soft and tender as I ever could have hoped for.  “It’s wonderful.  Best news I’ve ever had.  What a joy you are for me, Danika.  A miracle.”