Always the One, page 22
part #1 of Always and Forever Series
“Shayla Donovan, that’s my girlfriend. I’m Mr. Adams—Trey.” I’m rambling nervously.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Bennett, her attending DO. Do we have someone here who is her next of kin?” he asks, and I feel Kingston at my side, placing his hand on my shoulder for support.
“I’m her brother, is she okay?” he asks nervously, his voice deep. This can’t be easy on him either, this is his sister.
Nodding, the doctor starts. “Good news, she’s awake. Bad news, she suffered from a minor concussion and she’ll experience some slight pain, but nothing too detrimental.” I grab his hand and shake it roughly, after Kingston, my actions sloppy. I feel the weight on my shoulders lift and the deep breath sitting idly in my chest release. Fuck, she’s okay, Trey. She’s okay.
“Thank you so much, thank you. Sorry, I know I said that two times but really thank you. Okay, I’ve said thank you like a hundred times, so thank you.” My dad chuckles and the look on the doctor’s face clearly showing me I sound moronic.
“Can I see her, Doctor?” Kings ask, beating me to it.
He nods. “Yes, she’s right through those doors on the left—Room 217.” Kingston and I both pick up speed and take off down the hall. We must look like two scary dudes, running rampant.
“Perfect,” I shout over my shoulder, already halfway to her room.
I’m relieved to see the door open, showing me a full view of my beautiful girl. The second she sees me, I take note of the tears welling in her green eyes, underlined with regret. It isn’t her fault; it’s that piece of shit branch’s fault. I ripped the branch off the fucking tree like the Hulk when I got to her, my anger uncontrollable at that point.
“Baby.” Running to her side, I grab her hand and kiss her lips.
“I’m sorry, I was just trying to play. I didn’t mean to get hurt or upset you.” I’m not sure why she thinks I’m mad at her; I’m more worried about her than anything.
“I’m not upset, not at all. You scared me back there, I was so fucking worried.” I can’t stop kissing her lips, my need to drown myself in her stronger than before. Most people would think I’m overreacting, maybe I am. But when you see something happening to the one you’re in love with, any kind of exposure to accident or danger can make a person mad.
“I know, I just wanted to have some fun. We had such a crazy night last night, I wanted to make today fun for us all.” She gestures her hand to the crowd around us. I look over, seeing Kathy and my dad side by side in an embrace, Lana standing in front of a concerned Kings. I don’t miss his hands on her hips, she’s his talisman, holding him still, calming his heart, and submerging him back to reality. He’s just as scared as I was.
Turning my attention back on Shay, my hands caressing her cheek, she nestles harder into my palm, soaking up my touch. “I know, baby, I’m not mad. I’m just fucking happy you’re okay.”
“Yeah, we all are,” Lana speaks up, making her way to the opposite side of the bed.
“You scared me too, Shay. So don’t do anything like that again. Your big guy over here may not be mad at you but I am, you could’ve gotten hurt, way worse than you did.”
“I’m gonna second that, don’t ever do that fucking shit again. Got it?” Kings says firmly, all humor erased from his face. He hasn’t moved from his spot a few feet away, standing eerily still. Shay’s his only sister, his best friend. His worry is warranted.
“You’re just saying that because you want to get laid,” Shayla says, winking at Lana. This is her attempt to ease the tension from the room, it’s radiating off everyone. She really doesn’t have an inkling of how much we fucking love her and how important she is to the people here.
“I know you are trying to be funny but, baby, it could have been a lot worse. Many people have…died from that,” I choke out the word; it tastes like poison on my tongue.
Squeezing her hand, she nods. “I know, it could have been, and I’m glad I have all of you here to make sure I’m okay. You’re all the best. Thank you.” I watch her closely, memorizing every detail of her face as she looks at every person individually, saying thank you. I could close my eyes and tell you where everything on her face is, and in great detail. I have made a profession out of loving her, I know her like she’s a part of me, another limb on my body.
“Get some rest, I’m gonna go book our flights home.” Scrunching her face in confusion, I kiss the back of her hand that’s placed in mine.
“I thought we were driving?”
“We were, but since you have a concussion I want to get you home a day early. That way you can rest before you have to go back to work.”
“That makes sense. Thanks, Trey, you’re too good to me.” Kissing her enough times to keep me satisfied for now, we leave the room so she can finally get some rest.
“MAYBE TRY MESSING WITH the bass control.” It’s been three days since we’ve been back from vacation, and I fucking miss having Shayla to myself. Getting back home meant getting my ass back in gear and finishing the Roes album, taking my twenty-four hour access to Shayla away.
“True. Oh fuck, that sounds way better. Good call, dude.” We’re back at the studio, working a ton of hours to catch up on the work we missed. Kings and I spent a lot of time building a damn good reputation. Part of that is spending a lot of hours a day, sometimes until midnight, working with the bands who come in and out of here. Word of mouth and reputation is our marketing at the moment, and it’s working.
“These guys sound fucking good.” Looking through the recording glass from where we’re sitting, we silently agree, nodding our heads.
“So what’s your plans tonight?”
I brush his question off my shoulders, hiding my plans from him in the best way I can.
“Nothing.”
Reading right through me, his questioning eyes hit me sideways, hard. “Okay, fucker, spill.”
I’m not sure what to tell him, Kings can either agree with you a hundred percent or obliterate you in two and a half seconds with the harsh lash of his vicious tongue.
“You know that Evan guy? The one that’s supposed to help invest in the girls’s store?”
“Yeah, that stuck-up cocksucker. He looked at Lana’s ass the other day, and I about ripped his dick off.” He and I both, only difference is, Evan wants to have a special piece of me—my fucking woman.
“Anyway, I was irritated when I first met him, because he fucking looked at her the way a guy looks at a chick he wants to fuck.”
“Not shocked, and that dick-shit better keep his grimy hands off both my girls.”
“Exactly and while he acts innocent, his little touches and his mouth haven’t been. Well, I let that shit get to me and as you know, Shay and I fucking fought. Remember at the store before we left for Park City?” I ask, turning my chair toward him, looking back at the band—they’re halfway through their practice set, giving me enough time to explain everything.
“Yes,” he answers.
“Well, I promised her I wouldn’t act up around him. Well, in PC he fucking texted her, Kings.”
“So, he’s doing business with them. How many times do we text the bands we’re working with?” That’s what he thinks, which he has a point, but how many of them do we call pretty and offer dinner to?
“I’m not done. I was fine with it, as fine as I could be, but then he sent her a text and it wasn’t strictly business. He called her beautiful and asked her to not miss him too much.” Standing up, I push my chair back, the blood coursing through my veins making it impossible to sit still. I roll up the sleeves of my Henley, my veins bulging, pumping my thick blood through them. Obviously, just talking about this shit makes me angry, not only affecting my mindset but also my body.
“Really? What’d you say to him, or better yet, what did Shayla say?” he questions, leaning back in his chair.
“Nothing, she didn’t say anything to me about it, and I didn’t say anything to him. I didn’t want to fight or piss her off on our vacation. Plus we just had sex, so we both were on a high.”
“Bro, that’s my sister. I’m not going to tell you two what to do, but spare the goddamn details.” He’s right, that wasn’t needed. But the imagery helped calm me a fraction. “Where are you going with this story anyway, dude?”
“I’m going to his office tonight to talk to him, man to man.”
His expression is hesitant, knowing that I don’t have it in me to stay calm if that smug fucker says the wrong thing, he knows me too well.
“Trey, I don’t know, man. Fuck.” We both stay quiet and I debate what to say next.
“It needs to be done, he needs to be put in his place. Besides, Shayla isn’t the problem. She’s sweet and can be easily manipulated.” Tilting his head to the side in contemplation, he agrees.
“Yeah, but she’s also very hotheaded and doesn’t take shit, T.” He’s right; she’s a feisty woman when she feels controlled or threatened.
“You don’t think I’ve thought about this? That’s my girl, and no fucking rich dude with pearly white teeth is gonna come in and take advantage of her by using the boutique to get at her.”
“You really think he would?”
Really? I look at him in disbelief.
“We’re dudes, and I would do the same thing if I were him. Especially if Shayla was involved.”
“You’re right. Well, I guess you just need to make sure you don’t snap on him, because if you do Shayla may not forgive you.”
Very true, she wouldn’t let that go.
“Yeah, trust me, I know.”
By the time we finish up, it’s almost five, and I rush out the door and head downtown to Evan’s office. Walking into the swanky, upscale building, I take notice of the white marbled floors, which look untouched and brand new. The dark wood columns match the front desk and elevator hall. I walk up to the receptionist, hoping I didn’t miss him.
“Hello, sweetie. I’m Trey Adams, and I’m here to see Evan Thompson. Is he available?” She smiles sweetly, taking the bait, I’m using my charm to get in there, knowing she probably has a rehearsed, “He’s in a meeting, can I help you,” line on standby.
“Let me call up to his floor and see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
She reaches for the phone while I take a moment to look distracted, listening closely to what she says and her reactions.
“He’s on floor twenty-seven. The receptionist there is waiting for you and she’ll take you to his office.
“Perfect, thanks so much.” I slap the desk lightly before making my way over to the bank of elevators. I step in and watch the number on top of the door change slowly, and with each floor comes new anticipation. I really have no idea what the fuck is about to go down. My hands are deep in my front pockets, playing with a ball of fuzz, trying to calm my anxiety. The bell dings on my floor. When the door opens I expect to be greeted by another receptionist, but I’m not. Instead, I come face-to-face with the bastard I’m ready to put in line.
“Trey, to what do I owe this pleasure?” God, even his greeting sounds slimy with hidden undertones of smugness. I just look at his outstretched hand that he expects me to shake and roll my eyes—feeling childish already.
“Do you have somewhere private we can talk?” I look around the offices surrounding his shorter frame. He stands at five nine, looking small compared to my six two stature. He thinks he’s a man because of his riches, little does he know, money doesn’t make you a man, fucker.
“Yes, of course, let’s go to my office. This way.”
“After you.”
He looks surprised at my confidence, he must have expected to come get me and boss me around. But even in his setting, I’m the dominant one.
Walking into his posh office, all dark wood like the downstairs lobby, a blue sectional sits across from his marbled desk. The floor to ceiling windows behind his desk showcases the Seattle skyline and screams money. Too bad that shit doesn’t intimidate me or he may have actually made me feel inferior.
“Have a seat.” I don’t listen to him as he unbuttons his jacket and takes a seat at his desk. His cover of the calm exterior is blown, given away by the beads of sweat on his forehead. He should be scared; I’m not a happy man right now.
“I won’t be long, I just need to say a few things then I’ll be gone.” I’m more than ready to get this shit done so I can get back to Shayla and not worry about this fucker again. He gestures for me to start.
“I came here to tell you to back off from Shayla.”
He laughs; it drips with cockiness, like I’m wasting my time.
“I’m not following what you’re saying, Trey. We have a great relationship.” He rolls relationship off his tongue like it’s casual, something mutual, something I know nothing about and should be afraid of.
“You don’t have a fucking relationship, you have a business arrangement. That’s it.”
He stands from his place behind his desk, walking around to stand in front of me. My arms are crossed against my chest, which is puffed up, letting him know that I’m predatory over what’s mine, and I’m not backing down. Evan looks relaxed leaning against his desk, hands gripping the edge.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m sure you’re just insecure that I have money to help her in ways you can’t. Am I right?”
There is not one thing in this world that I can’t do to help her. Physically, intimately, financially, emotionally—nothing. This prick knows jack shit, and whatever verbal bullshit he thinks he’s about to lay down isn’t accurate. I’m all she will ever need, she just needs to ask and it’s hers.
“I have plenty of money to help her, but she doesn’t need me to make her successful, she can do that all on her own. She doesn’t need hand outs.” I shake my head. Evan has some nerve, Shayla is a hard worker and got to where she is today all on her own. The definition of independent woman has her sexy face next to it in the dictionary.
“Yeah, but that’s daddy’s money, isn’t it?” he hisses, pushing my restraint.
“Listen, fucker! I came here to play nice, but I’m this close”—I throw my hand up, showing him the small space between my two fingers— “to losing my shit on you. So, do yourself a favor and back off. Heed my warning, Evan.”
He straightens, putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh, Trey.” He chuckles, it sounds sinister. “You’re wrong again. See, you will continue to be the insecure boy, and I’ll be the man she runs to when she gets tired of you. She may have rejected me when I asked her out the first time and believe me I wasn’t too happy. Because, Trey.” He pauses, his jaw ticking.
When did he fucking ask her out? Why didn’t she tell me? And why does he look so fucking angry over her rejection. Doesn’t he get the simple equation that committed women will say no when another party of the male species ask them out?
“Because what?” I hiss.
He smiles, standing only a foot away from me. “I don’t take rejection well, it makes my blood fucking boil. I always get what I want, I mean look around you, Trey, I never take no for an answer and that’s why I’m here.” Evan’s gaze zeroes in on me, his lips drawing in a sinister smile and his eyes distant. He looks like a fucking maniac; this man is worse than I could have imagined. “And honestly, now more than ever, I am making it my mission to fuck Shayla.”
I hear the loud crunch of bones breaking. My fist connecting with his flesh and bone, breaking his nose, splitting the skin open right down the middle. This piece of shit just crossed a line. Evan looks up from the ground where he landed by my impact, standing while wiping the blood from his broken nose on the sleeve of his suit. When I have his eyes again, I punch him for a second time. This one catching the side of his face. The rage in me can’t be caged in; he needs to feel more pain.
“Get out of my office before I call security!” He’s beyond mad, and victory is rewarding. I knew this fucker didn’t have the balls to step up to the plate. He didn’t even fight back. Pussy.
“Yeah, I bet you would, pussy. Next time you want to threaten me like a big boy, you better be prepared to fight with a man.” I get the last word and he just sits there, scrambling for tissues to keep the blood from ruining his expensive carpet. You threaten to hurt Shayla and I take it personal, he just admitted that he was going to do everything in his power to screw Shayla. Even thinking this in my head leaves a sour taste on my tongue. It makes my fucking stomach turn inside out. I’m not going to stand here and not do a single thing. I came in the new Trey and left the old Trey. Ready to kill.
The second the elevators open to the lobby, I notice security waiting. I let the goons take me out without even a flinch, knowing Evan is up there, defeated and emasculated. I go willingly. When the air from outside hits my face and they let me go, I’m still fucking raging. How can I let Shay go near him when he says shit like that? How can I not fear for her? I hope he took my threat and that punch seriously. There is far more worse where that came from.
Slipping my hands into my leather jacket, I make my way to the parking garage. Hopping into my truck, I start it and blare some AC/DC. It fits my mood perfectly. Now I’m going to see my fucking girl. My heart never settling and my deepest fears happening in front of my face.
Shayla
I’VE TEXTED TREY a couple of times today and it’s just been short, vague answers one after the other. I was missing my flirtatious boyfriend. But today it felt odd. Toward the late afternoon, it fell completely silent. I haven’t heard from him since about four. It’s nearly eight, Lana and I just finished dinner, and now we’re watching Some Like It Hot. Lana is obsessed with black and white films; she believes that era was the era of real, authentic love. Little does she know, black and white meant just that. Black and white.
Movies were superficial and life still happened back in the fifties. Divorce, cheating…abuse. But if these movies will allow her to find a way to believe in love again so she’ll date my brother, I’m going to drink my wine, shut up, and watch willingly.
