Rock Redemption #3: Rock Revenge Trilogy, page 21
I nodded. “Right. No being a…douchecanoe.”
I didn’t exactly know what that meant. Luckily, I’d found a source called the Urban Dictionary that didn’t laugh at me as much as Flynn did.
With a grin, he held out his fist and I tentatively bumped mine to his before he dragged me in for a hard hug.
Swallowing deeply, I backed up and tipped my cap again before I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder and bent to retrieve my guitar case from the ground.
When I looked up again, he was gone.
I smiled as I dealt with the ticket counter and boarded the train. Once I was in my seat with my belongings spread on the little table before me, I dug out the notebook I’d found the other day at a bazaar Lark and Perry had asked me to check out with them. It was made of brown, scarred leather and had apparently gone through several hands.
This notebook had probably seen far more than I had. But I was ready to change that.
I spread open the flaps and ran a fingertip over the notebooks I’d stuffed inside. The leather contraption held a few. Inside them, I’d scribbled random observations and snatches of lyrics. It was like my composition book, just upgraded.
Since I’d be traveling for a long—very long—time before I switched trains, I intended to get a lot of work done.
I pulled out the white earphones Sabrina had called air pods. She claimed they were the latest, greatest thing and she’d gifted them to me before getting off. Err, leaving. Flynn had explained to me the dual meaning of that phrase, which I’d already known but my mind didn’t always veer into the gutter. Unlike many Americans.
I missed one certain American. God, I couldn’t wait to see her. Even if she slapped me dead in the face.
Because I was learning to have a thing called self-worth, I wouldn’t say I deserved it. But I welcomed the opportunity to prove to her I was changing.
In the meantime, I would listen to my music—not my music, because I might be growing in confidence, but I wasn’t turning into that much of a douchecanoe, thanks, Flynn—and write enough material that I might have a whole album’s worth, with or without Simon.
Yet the words didn’t pour out of me as I’d hoped.
I’d barely written two songs by the time I switched trains. Another two had joined them when I switched trains one more time.
My arrival in LA left me standing at the train station with one of my new notebooks in the leather journal a third full. Six songs in total were scribbled there, in various stages of completion. But I had a foundation. That was all I could ask for.
Now? I needed a ride to Simon’s. After that, I’d figure out a place to stay overnight, since my flight to New York wasn’t until tomorrow.
I called Frank on a wing and a prayer. Miraculously, he answered and agreed to come pick me up.
Granted, I knew he worked for the record company and wasn’t doing me a personal favor. It still felt like one.
When he pulled up to the train station, I gave him a sheepish wave and carted my guitar case and few bags to the car. He disembarked to help me stuff them in the boot.
Trunk. Right. Someday I’d switch over entirely to calling it a trunk, even in my own head.
Maybe.
“Are you still talking to me?” I asked as I got in the back of the car.
“Was I ever talking to you?”
“Hmm, I thought so?”
“You left without a word. That is your right.”
“So, you aren’t brassed off?”
“I have no right to be brassed off.” He cocked a brow. “I am your driver. To be…that would mean we’d developed some sort of a friendship. That seems unlikely.” He stared straight ahead while I grinned.
“That it would. Sorry, Frank. I forget that I’m not completely on my own anymore. I spent a lot of years with no one who cared if I lived or died.” I tried to laugh it off. “You probably don’t either, but it’s a paycheck, right?”
His jaw locked and he pulled away from the curb, saying nothing.
Douchecanoe status check. Warning. Abort.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make jokes. Bad habit.”
“Because no one cared if you lived or died, turn to chapter two of my tale of woe.”
I blinked at Frank. “Okay then.”
“Where exactly are you going?”
The question caused the nest of rattlers in my belly to wake up and stretch. After I told him Simon’s address, I sat back to ponder how to clean up this latest pile of poo I’d stepped into.
A while later, Frank pulled to a stop not far from Simon’s penthouse and waited for me to disembark. I gripped the door handle and took a breath. “Look, I should’ve given you notice I was leaving. I didn’t think you’d even think twice. There are always other assignments. But if you did—think twice, I mean—I’d like to tell you I’m back.”
“Are you now?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“Get out of my car, you asshole.”
It made me laugh. “You remember Zoe?”
“How could I not? She was far too good for the likes of you, but she smiled every time you looked at her.”
“Did she? I’ll try to remember that when she’s using my berries as embellishments on her latest canvas.” I straightened my shoulders. “We ended things, but I’m going to New York to convince her I love her. That I want to marry her and have babies with her and live in beautiful disharmony for the rest of our days.”
“Oh, is that all? I’m sure there’s a Hallmark card for that. Save yourself a trip.”
I had to chuckle. “But I’ll be back afterward. Sooner or later, depending on reception. I hope she’ll be with me. Not sure how Sabrina would react to me living in New York so soon.”
“So, that’s a deal breaker then?”
“No. Life without her is my deal breaker. Anything that means having her by my side is negotiable.” I shrugged. “I can travel if need be.”
“If you make it back here, you know where to reach me.”
“Thanks, Frank. I’ll be back, one way or another. I think this is my new home.” Saying it aloud was oddly freeing.
Believing it even more so.
“Good luck. I recommend spoiling her rotten.”
“Like fruit?”
He laughed. “You’re something else. Like she’s the woman you adore above all else. Seems like you could figure out how to do that.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I could do that.” I smiled and opened the door. “See you when I see you, Frank. Thanks for not holding a grudge.”
“Who says I ain’t?” But he smiled as he got out to help me with my bags.
Hmm. I couldn’t go into my brother’s place with all these bags as if I was some hobo. Should I have Frank wait?
I should have him wait.
But he’d already set my guitar case and other bags on the cement and was signaling to drive away.
So, hobo it was.
Carting all my worldly belongings on my back, I went to the front desk and wisely asked for my sister-in-law to be notified I was in residence.
The chances of Simon allowing me admittance were zero plus zero equals hahaha.
Margo buzzed me upstairs without so much as a polite question what the fuck I was doing there.
If Simon hadn’t married her and I didn’t already have the most wonderful woman to love, I might’ve been smitten.
I took the lift to the penthouse, trying to seem as cool as possible when I had over my shoulder an ancient knapsack and a cheap bag I’d picked up at the bazaar. On the opposite side, I carried my old guitar case covered in stickers.
The stickers were mostly courtesy of Rory. The lot of them were unobtrusive, other than the giant pink lips he’d affixed that said blow me one last kiss.
I couldn’t decide if I loved or hated that man. He was probably lucky he’d taken off just hours before me, leaving before I could say a proper goodbye. His parting shot had been a text that read, “see ya around, sucker.”
Naturally, I’d texted back, “Not if I see you first.”
I got out on the top floor and smothered a low groan at the understated opulence that surrounded me. Before I could unglue my tongue from the floor, Margo came toward me and I nearly goggled at the state of her belly.
Oh, she wasn’t huge yet. Far from it. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so…well, obvious.
How would Zoe look if she were carrying my child? Would she have that same glow about her, that same serenity in her smile?
With a little extra added crazy, since she was my Zoe.
“You can stop staring at my stomach now. I know I’m far bigger than when you saw me last.”
“You’re a vision. Simon is a lucky, lucky man.”
“And you are a charmer, especially with that accent of yours.” Skirting around my guitar case, she drew me in for a quick hug, along with a cheek air kiss.
I didn’t expect the warm reception and didn’t know how to respond. So, I stood there rather like a statue and tried to swallow as she drew back.
“You’re not used to hugs,” Margo said quietly, cupping her elbows. “I’m sorry for that. I wasn’t either, before Simon.”
“No, I’m not, but it’s not only that. I can’t figure how you can be so accepting of me. I appreciate it so much, but I’m—”
“Save the ‘I’m not worthy’ act, would you? My wife’s violins are packed away already and I’m not of a mind to dig them out.” My brother stalked forward wearing a towel and a glower.
The towel explained why Margo had granted me entrance so easily.
Margo rolled her eyes and took my hand to drag me deeper into the apartment, if it could even be called that. All the flats in my building back in London didn’t equal half of this square footage.
“Let’s just not do this, all right? He’s your brother, Simon. You only have one. You didn’t even know of him for all these years, and you really wish to waste more?” Margo let go of me and I had to admit I missed the secure clasp of her hand. She was not a woman who suffered fools, that much I could tell already.
Simon stared stubbornly out the floor to ceiling windows of the living room, his towel dipping to about three inches from indecency.
“I’m going to leave you two alone.” Margo rubbed the side of her belly. “Your daughter is restless, Simon. Probably heard your angry voice. Work on that,” she suggested as she breezed past him.
He let out a long breath and tipped back his head. “We haven’t had a single argument since our fucking mother tried to take her from me. Then you come in here, and five seconds later, she’s fretting over you and saying fuck you to me. Why is that?”
“She didn’t actually say fuck you. It was more metaphorical.” I sighed at his steady stare and set down my bags and guitar case. “Your wife is an incredible woman.”
“You have the fucking hots for her.”
I managed not to squirm. “I wouldn’t say hots exactly. I’m in love with Zoe.”
“Yeah, but she’s not in love with you anymore, now is she?”
The arrow hit its intended target. “I hope she still is, but she may be over me. If so, I’ll have to face that. I just won’t ever stop trying to change her mind.” I cleared my throat. “While accepting all local laws prohibiting stalking, et cetera.”
Simon surprised the hell out of me by laughing. “It would be so much fucking easier if I could just keep on hating you. I started off well enough there.”
“That you did. Wait, are you saying you like me now? Because I can’t tell.”
“Good. And no, I’m not saying I like you now. You led those bastards right to our doorstep. Put a target on Margo’s back.” He held up a hand before I could speak. “I know you never knew Margo was in the crosshairs. Or so you claim.”
“I didn’t. I swear.”
“Considering your puppy eyes toward her, I’m inclined to believe you. And that annoys me too.”
“She’s so…with child.”
Simon arched a brow at me.
“A woman is never lovelier than when in that state. I suppose I never realized. I want one,” I said suddenly.
“One what? A Margo?” He smirked. “Sorry to say, they broke the mold there. She’s taken.”
“No, not a Margo, though she’s amazing. A baby. I want one of those. I want a family.” The realization gripped my chest in steely claws.
I’d said as much to Frank, but those had been someday words. Except I didn’t want to wait for someday.
I’d spent years looking behind me, hearing a ticking timeclock in my head. Worry and pressure had been my constant companions. Now that they were gone, I felt free…and empty. As if all that space inside me that had been full of fear was simply a vessel that demanded something far different now.
All the love I could stand, both given and received. And not just to Zoe. I wanted children.
Our children.
Beyond that, I wanted this. A real family. Not only one I would make, but to be close with my brother and his wife and their baby too.
“Wait a second. You’re not even dating Zoe anymore and you want a baby?” Simon shook his head. “Gotta say, I’ve never heard a dude say those words in quite that way. Especially a rockstar. Is it the British thing? Do they make guys differently over there or something?”
It was my turn to laugh. “Margo mentioned your daughter. It’s a girl then, is it?”
Simon nodded. “Yes. Raine.”
“That’s a beautiful name. Musical. You’re such a lucky man. I hope you know that.”
“I do. And you’re right, I am. But I wasn’t smart enough to know I wanted all this. I mean, Margo, yes, I wanted her from the first minute I saw her.”
“Much as it was for me with Zoe.”
Perhaps that instant certainty about who was meant to be ours had been passed down in the blood too. A cosmic, karmic gift to help make up for the monsters who had bred us.
“But the rest? Marriage and babies and all of that? It came later for me. Babies, well, not at all. That was a happy surprise.” He smiled and rotated his wedding ring around his finger. “The right surprise we didn’t even know we needed.”
From the other room, Margo called out, “He’s forgetting the part where he wore me down to marry him. Don’t mind his memory lapses.”
“What are you doing, listening with a glass at the wall?” Simon called back, but he was laughing.
Their domesticity was sweet to see. I wanted this too. As much as I’d craved Simon’s life onstage, his camaraderie with his bandmates, it ran parallel with my need to create a stable home base. I’d grown up believing I wanted to be alone because I’d thought it was my fate. As soon as a shaft of light had entered the darkness, I’d stopped lying to myself.
Even now, more of the lies I’d used to keep myself safe were falling away. Old barriers and guards dropping that I no longer needed.
It wasn’t only Zoe I had to be honest with now. Or my brother. I also had to be honest with myself.
“I’m happy for you,” I said, and it was sterling truth. “You deserve this. More than anyone, you deserve a wife and a happy, healthy baby and a life of your own choosing. That’s your victory, isn’t it?”
He didn’t reply. I didn’t expect him to.
“In the movies, the hero fights to the death, but not all battles involve bloodsport. The most important are in the mind and the heart.” I swallowed hard. “You can’t have what you don’t truly believe you’re worthy of. I’m glad Margo helped you see your value. Because God only knows, they tried to strip it out of us, didn’t they?”
He stared at me, saying nothing. His throat moving up and down in time with mine.
“I came here to try to steal your money to repay my debt to Jerry, but that isn’t all I wanted to steal. I wanted to steal your success. Your friendships with your band. Even with Nick. He’s a hateful man in some respects, but he would give his life for yours.”
Simon nodded. “Because we climbed out of that pit together.”
“I was alone in my pit.” I smiled without mirth. “So, I have no such friendships. But I’m building them. I’m finding my own. Because if all this has taught me anything, it’s that love and respect have to be earned. You can’t bully them out of people or manipulate your way into someone’s heart. Not if you want to stay there.”
“A bloodline doesn’t count as earning it either.”
“No,” I agreed softly. “I always wanted what was my right as a Kagan. But nothing had been handed to you. And I didn’t see that until I came here. I only saw the after picture, not the before. Not the during.”
“Me too. I only saw the after picture.” He raked a hand through his still dripping hair. “What came before could’ve been all we became. But it wasn’t for me. You still have time to change your picture too.”
“I do. I am. Which is what I came here to say. Well, among other things.” I let out a dry laugh. “But singing with you—well, it changed everything for me. Every trite thing you could imagine. That’s what made me tell our mum I couldn’t go through with the version of the plan they’d laid before me. Because I’d sung with my idol and I wouldn’t help break him just because I’d been so envious and alone.”
Simon’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never been anyone’s idol.”
“Yes, you have. You’re mine. Since I was a boy, you were the one I wanted to emulate.” I grabbed my stubby ponytail. “I even grew my hair long because of you. Because you were the perfect rockstar, and I wanted to be the same.”
Simon snorted. “A, I never grew my hair as long as yours. Huh, you fucking cut it. I just noticed.”
“Such a male.” But it made me laugh, because I was no better most of the time.
“And B, your hair is far superior to mine. So, there you go. You idolize me as the perfect rockstar, and I probably was jealous of your hair. And maybe of this.” He stalked to the side table beside the sofa and picked up a small remote, stabbing buttons until my song with Flynn filled the penthouse.
I blinked as my own voice soared.
“Sabrina just sent it to radio. I mean, just. It’s only been a couple of days. How could—” I shook my head. “She sent it to you, didn’t she? To goad you.”
