Quarantales: The Complete Contemporary Romance Box Set, page 49
“So you wouldn’t trade it for say…the lead singer of Death Buddha and a house in Malibu?”
“Eww, no.” I scrunch up my face and make a disgusted sound. “I love Death Buddha, but like you said, a lot of people in music aren’t much better than Eddie. And those 90s rock stars were the worst of them, right? West Nygard can scream like nobody’s business, but at the end of the day, you’re so much better than him, and a house in a Malibu could ever be.”
I’m trying to be romantic here. I want Wyatt to know that even if I haven’t declared it out loud like he has, he’s not the only one falling here.
But when I tell him I’d choose him over the gorgeous lead singer of Death Buddha, no contest, he just looks sad. Like I’ve punched him.
“You want me to like West Nygard more than you?” I ask him.
“No, I just want…” He trails off, looks away, then says, “You know what, Reina. Come here.”
He holds out a hand, beckoning me forward. And when I come around the table, he surprises me by suddenly pulling me down into his lap. Then he kisses my neck, even though his beard never fails to tickle me. Or maybe because it does.
Either way, I’ve gotten used to laughing all the time with this new version of Wyatt.
But in this case, he doesn’t laugh too. He draws back to tell me, “We don’t have that long left together. The studios could be opening back up any day. Let’s not waste time on hypotheticals. Let’s focus on what’s real until I have to go.”
“Yeah, until you have to go,” I agree, dipping my head down for another kiss.
Kissing leads to other things. No surprise there. I swear as soon as his back is turned, I’m going to ransack his things and find that bottle of Viagra to confirm my suspicions.
But he’s right about appreciating what we have while we have it. And I’m happy to spend the rest of the time I have left with Wyatt, rolling around in bed, laughing, and making beautiful music. Together.
We spend the rest of the morning doing just that. Rolling around in bed gives away to making music, then laughing, then rolling around in bed some more.
Just as we’re coming down from our afternoon delight, a quick rap sounds on the door.
It must be the order I put in, but by the time I throw on a robe, Shirley’s already gone. Only the four paper bags, sitting on the top step, let me know she was even there.
Oh, and bless her heart, she’d even included a few magazines along with a handwritten note that said, “Just in case you two ever come up from being just friends.”
My whole face burns with embarrassment. So I guess she heard at least a little bit of what was going on in the cabin. No wonder she ran away so fast. Usually, she stays long enough to chat a bit and root around for more gossip. But I guess we gave her enough to tattletale about until the next delivery.
I put the groceries away while Wyatt takes a shower. I wanted to take a shower, too, before making dinner. But when he comes out of the bathroom, I’m too caught up in the latest issue of Celebrity Weekly to take my turn.
“Whatcha reading?” Wyatt asks, going straight to the fridge.
For a guy who managed to disappear his beer belly in just a few months, he’s constantly eating. Mostly vegetables paired with healthy dipping options like hummus and low-calorie ranch dressing these days. But still.
“It looks like our conversation was totally hypothetical. West Nygard has a new girlfriend.”
I’m expecting Wyatt to blow me off. He hates celebrity gossip and doesn’t understand why, as he so colorfully put it, “anyone cares how anybody else wipes their ass with the time they’ve got on this Earth.”
But he stands up inside the refrigerator door and says, “What?”
“Yeah, it looks like him and Death Buddha’s lead guitarist, Carol V, are dating now—which is crazy because the rumor is the band had to go on break because she and West stopped getting along. But look at this….” I flip the magazine to show him. “Here’s a picture of them walking her dogs and holding hands. Do you think this means Death Buddha’s getting back together?”
At first, Wyatt goes very, very still. But then, in a sudden burst of movement, he comes over to me and snatches the magazine out of my hands.
He reads the news item himself. Once. Twice. Then he growls, “Sonovabitch!”
Wait, wait, wait!
What is going on with the real Wyatt and Carol V???
Find out in the next episode of
Reina and the Heavy Metal Prince.
Part Nine
Episode 9: GO BACK INSIDE
Chapter Fourteen
Go Back Inside
WEST
I try not to use as much foul language around Reina. She’s sweet and church-going, and I can tell she doesn’t like it. But that “Sonovabitch” slips out before I can stop it. And I only barely managed to hold on to all the F-bombs going off in my head.
Because sure enough, there’s my brother, looking hella cozy with Carol V, who I haven’t seen since we got into that screaming fight a couple of years ago.
Carol V and I have always…well, “flat-out hated” might be too strong a way to describe how we feel about each other. But “barely tolerated” is getting there. I admired her for holding her own as a Latina lead guitarist in one of the heaviest metal bands of the 90s. She knew what to do with her ax when it came time to rock. I’ll give her that. But she was a total pain in my ass offstage.
Carol V was one of those people who couldn’t write or compose a song for shit but always had a ton of suggestions and critiques.
Why can’t we wear something nicer than jeans and leather? That was after she saw a publicity photo of Franz Ferdinand in suits.
Why can’t we at least try to sound a little more new century? That was in response to all the attention art rock bands like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and The Strokes were getting in the early 2000s.
And don’t even get me started on what happened when Linkin Park teamed up with Jay-Z.
“Why can’t we do a collabo with C-Mello?” she whined like a toddler.
Collabo. She actually said “collabo” and claimed it would keep us relevant with a straight face, even though Death Buddha was still selling out stadiums all over the world. That was pretty goddamn relevant if you asked me.
It got to the point where I couldn’t tell if she was our lead guitarist or the head of our damn PR team. Actually, our real PR Team was much easier to deal with than Carol V. They didn’t care what we did as long as our albums were a good enough excuse to go back on tour every other year and keep us in the media.
But apparently, worldwide mega-success wasn’t enough for Carol V. And, two years ago, our disagreements over the band’s direction reached a breaking point. When I brought in the rough cuts of the songs I wanted to do for the last Death Buddha album, she’d rolled her eyes and said, “So we’re doing this again.”
And Gator refused to let me fire her without walking away himself, on account of her being his sister.
“C’mon, man, just ignore her like you always do,” he’d said.
But suddenly, I couldn’t stand the thought of making another album with her huffing in the background like she had better places to be.
“How about if instead of recording this album, we take a break?” I answered Gator. “I’ll make a solo album. You can try to score a few films like you’ve been talking about, and your sister can piss off and do whatever the hell she wants outside this band.”
Gator had been reluctant to go on hiatus after decades together, but Carol V had agreed enthusiastically.
That was two years ago. And ironically, Gator’s been the most productive of us three. He composed the music for two horror film projects. And, he’s already getting award buzz from critics who appreciate the crossover talent of someone who’d spent years in a heavy metal band.
I was supposed to be working on my own album, but inspiration had only come in spurts and splatters. Reina thought I came up with those lyrics in six months, but the truth was, the songs in that journal had been two years in the making with a shit ton of Call of Duty and hooking up with women who were too young for me in between.
That’s why I’d jumped at the chance to come all the way out to South Dakota to pretend to be somebody else.
As for Carol V, she’d been mysteriously quiet since we went on hiatus. I’d guess all those collaborations she’d been gunning for had fallen through once they learned it would be just her and not the rest of Death Buddha. I’d figured it was only a matter of time before she’d come crawling back, asking to return to the spotlight.
But now, here she was in this picture, hanging off Wyatt’s arm, her head thrown back laughing. Like my grumpy brother was the funniest guy on Earth.
“Now that’s a couple that makes sense,” Reina says. “Look at them. They’re both so rock and roll. So slick. They’re a perfect match.”
I glare at her. “So then you’re going to go hook up with some other recovery R&B relic from the early 2000s. That way, you’ll have your perfect match too?”
She jerks her head back, and I can tell I’ve hurt her.
Which is the last thing I wanted to do. I silently curse. How did this all get so complicated?
I grab a hoodie and head toward the front door.
“Where are you going?” she asks behind me.
“For a walk.”
“This late at night? It’s already dark.”
I don’t answer. Just slam out the door. I know I’m being a jerk. But that’s better than hurting her by lashing out with my tongue again.
It’s been nice weather lately. But tonight, the wind howls as I pull out my phone. I call Wyatt as soon as I clear the stairs.
Two rings, then straight to voicemail. It’s the kind of abrupt transition that lets you know that the person on the other line saw your number but decided not to talk to you.
Doesn’t matter. I leave a message. “What the hell? What happened to always answering each other’s calls, just in case it’s an emergency? Call me back as soon as you get this, you sonovabitch.”
I angrily end the message just in time to hear a voice calling down to me. “Wyatt! Wyatt! Wait up!”
I look over my shoulder to see Reina running down the stairs. Her gray locks are whipping in the wind, and her feet are bare. Like she was so worried about me, she couldn’t stop to put shoes on. The sight of her, shivering against the cold, makes me feel like shit.
“Go back inside,” I call up to her. “I just need some time alone,”
But she keeps on coming.
“I don’t think you should be alone right now,” she says, grabbing my arm.
“Why not?” I demand. “Isn’t it my right to have time alone?”
“Oh, Wyatt….” She tilts her head at me, her expression becoming unbearably sad. “No, no, you don’t have that right. Neither do I. People like us don’t get to be alone when we’re upset. Don’t isolate. Don’t push the people you care about away. That’s Recovery 101.”
“This isn’t about recovery,” I yell at her. “I’m not trying to go off and find a drink. Hell, I’ve been sober for ten years. I’m not going to fuck it up now.”
She shakes her head. “Okay, I don’t know how you’re counting, but it was only three years ago that I found you alone in your cabin, throwing up whiskey because you decided to go and do the exact same thing I’m telling you not to do now.”
I scrub a hand over my face. Damn, it’s getting harder and harder to keep all these lies straight.
“It’s not the same,” I lamely insist.
She spreads her arms. “How is it not the same? Death Buddha triggers you for reasons I still don’t understand. Instead of talking to somebody about it, you go off by yourself—”
“Reina, listen to me. It’s not the same! Will you just believe me?”
“No! Not until you can get a hold of your sponsor,” she answers. “Which I should still be…”
She frets her hands in front of her chest. “See, this is why I knew us getting together was a bad idea. Now I can’t be here for you in your hour of need because things have become too complicated.”
“Are you kidding me?” I’m raining F-bombs inside my head, even as I let her know. “You are the best thing that’s happened to me in a very, very long time. You and me, us making music together—those are the least confusing things going on in my head right now. Reina…”
I’ve been lying to her for weeks, but the truth comes flowing out, as unstoppable as the wind. “Reina, I’ve got feelings for you. Real feelings. I swear other than knowing I had to do right by my daughter, this is the most authentic thing I’ve felt in years—decades even. And I know it sounds crazy, but I’m full-on in love with you.”
She lowers her hands from her chest, her expression a mix of doubt and confusion. I’m sure she’s about to agree that I’m nuts, but then she says, “I know this sounds crazy. Especially since until you returned from California, I never had an inkling of feeling for you before. But I think I’m full-on in love with you too. And if I’m being honest, that’s why I got so scared when you just up and left.”
She rubs at her eyes as she tells me, “I’m twelve years sober. And I know how hard that first five is. Yes, technically, you’re older than me, but you’re only three years into your sobriety, which is why it’s a constant war between my heart and my conscience when it comes to you. When it comes to us. Also, if I’m being truthful, I’ve got some abandonment issues. I’ve only been in love once before, and he turned out to be a lying bag of trash. I don’t…I don’t want to be that woman getting left behind in a parking lot again.”
My heart melts into a puddle of guilt and love at her words. She thinks her heart and conscience are at war? A lying bag of trash would be the perfect way to describe me, considering everything I’ve been keeping from her since the moment we met.
I love her, and she loves me.
And I can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue lying to her. Not when there’s so much at stake.
“Okay, I’ll come back in,” I tell her, my voice as ominous as a canyon wind. “I’ll come back in, and we’ll talk.”
The relief on her face. It cracks my heart open.
And suddenly, it’s not enough to wait until we get back inside the house.
I rush forward to where she’s standing on the stairs, and I use my hand to hold back her locks so that they won’t blow in my face when I kiss her.
Her lips are just as sweet out here as they are inside. And she kisses me back, grateful and desperate, just like me. I don’t care what she says about Carol V and the fake West Nygard.
We’re the true match.
Us.
It’s so obvious to me.
I rest my forehead against hers. Wishing we could live in this moment of love forever. Wishing I was truly the man she thought I was. I’ve never wished so hard to be someone other than me before this moment, even when I was at rock bottom.
But, now…
“Reina, it’s actually a good thing you didn’t like me before I came back from California. There’s something I have to tell you…”
I’m interrupted by the sound of an oncoming car. A gas guzzler, the kind of big engine vehicle you can hear coming, even though you can’t see yet.
Reina frowns and draws back from our embrace.
“That sounds like your tow truck?” she says. “But, I thought you left it at your friend’s garage near the airport.”
My stomach drops, knowing without seeing exactly who’s coming this way, even before the truck appears around the bend. “Reina. Listen, there’s something I have to tell you…”
But she’s already moving away from me, like a ghost who only allowed me to hold her for a few moments.
“Who’s driving your truck?” she asks, more to herself than me.
But I answer anyway. “Wyatt…Wyatt’s driving the truck.”
“What?” She turns to look back at me over her shoulder. Her lips are stretched like she’s ready to laugh at my next answer.
“You’re so beautiful,” I tell her. “More beautiful than any woman back in California. Any woman I’ve met. Ever.”
That makes her smile for real. But then she asks, “Seriously, who’s driving your truck?”
I take her in, memorizing that bright and broken smile.
Then I watch it disappear as I repeat, “Wyatt. My brother Wyatt is driving that truck. It’s his truck. Not mine.”
She shakes her head at me. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”
Then the truck screeches to a halt in front of us and her idol, Carol V, jumps out the passenger seat with a grumpy Wyatt, pulling up the rear.
“What the hell, Nygard!” Carol V yells at me.
At the same time, Wyatt says to Reina, “What are you still doing here? Wait a minute, have you two been shacked up this whole time?”
I see them coming. I hear every question they shout. But I don’t answer. All I can do is stare at Reina inside the fantasy bubble we created here together.
Right as it pops.
Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!
What will happen when Reina
discovers West’s true identity?
Find out in the next episode of
Reina and the Heavy Metal Prince
Part Ten
Episode 10: I COUNT MY BLESSINGS
Chapter Fifteen
I Count My Blessings
REINA
A few weeks ago, I received a stimulus check from the government.
It would have been enough when combined with my unemployment to pay for a place in Missouri for at least a couple of months. But instead of searching for the apartment I’d been saving up for, I stashed the check in my purse and stayed on at the cabin with Wyatt.
