19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Axel
G eneva Alvarez’s beauty always stunned me. With her black, curly, flowing long hair. Her dark-brown almond-shaped eyes. Her bow lips, covered in a dark red lipstick that suited her.
What really turned me on, though, was her take-no-prisoners attitude. She approached every interview as an opportunity to break a big story wide open. As the entertainment reporter for the local Vancouver station of the Canadian National Channel—CNC for short—she vibrated energy.
Personally, I thought she was wasted in entertainment. Not that those stories weren’t important. We entertainers needed exposure—of which she’d given Grindstone more than our fair share over the years. She also alternated between subtly hitting on Ed and me. Last night, though, I’d caught her sidling up to Songbird. Although Geneva was an unabashed and unrepentant bisexual, Songbird didn’t—to my knowledge—swing that way.
On the other hand, I’d never sat and had a conversation with my bandmate about her potential bed partners. Life was complicated enough between keeping Ed’s bisexual status on the QT and watching Meg and Big Mac finally hookup after Rocktoberfest last year.
Between Ed and Thornton, as well as Meg and Big Mac, we had two weddings in our future.
Ugh.
I eyed Geneva as she reviewed what I assumed were her notes on a tablet. The woman was better suited for investigative journalism. More like Lucille Forbes who wrote for our local paper and who always was finding some celebrity or titan of business to bring down a notch. Or six. Or right out of politics, entertainment, sports, or commerce. She’d brought the downfall of many a powerful person. Admittedly, mostly men. Arrogant men. Men who thought they were untouchable.
And the damn Forbes woman was texting and calling Pauletta incessantly—saying she’d run her story without our input but wouldn’t it be better if I agreed to a sit-down interview?
Fucking vultures. Smelling blood in the water—
Wait. Sharks smelled blood in the water. Vultures ate carcasses of dead things.
Oh my God, so gross.
I winced.
Pauletta elbowed me. “Be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
Thornton snickered.
I glared.
Ed shrugged. “Get over it. He’s here to stay.”
I wasn’t certain if he meant in Canada, our lives, or just this moment in time when I was about to be skewered, spit roasted, and feasted on. I almost said that out loud, knowing Ed would be totally grossed out. My poor vegetarian friend.
“Axel.” Pauletta whispered my name.
“Yeah?”
“Pay attention, for fuck’s sake.” That came from Ed.
In fairness, I’d discussed my ADHD in the documentary—and Thornton had kept that part… as well as found a couple instances where the shit manifested plus a couple of times when I used coping strategies to rein in the worst of the impulses. He’d mentioned, in the editing process, that he’d consulted a psychologist who’d given him guidance on how to portray the problem honestly. But with hope. That meant something to me. That he actually cared—both about me and about Ed. And about the millions of kids around the world—and adults—who went through what I went through. Or something similar. Basically that you could use it to your advantage and build on the gifts that came with it.
I’d learned early on, thanks to Ed, that I processed the world differently than other people. “I’m paying attention.”
Even as I said the words, Geneva stepped forward, her hand extended. “Axel.”
I grasped her hand. Damn, her skin’s so soft . I liked most women’s skin. I was a sensualist. What I liked more though, honestly, was a ginger beard attached to a man who got turned on when I scratched it. “Geneva.” I shook with a firm grip, then released her hand.
She pivoted. “Ed, so lovely to see you again.”
“Hello, Geneva. I believe you haven’t met Thornton Graves. My fiancé.”
Geneva’s stunning brown eyes lit. “Am I breaking news today?”
Ed, to my utter shock, tucked himself into Thornton’s side. “If you want.”
“Oh, I want.”
“With caveats.” Pauletta stepped forward, not even bothering to offer her hand. “You saw the documentary last night, so that’s fair—”
“You can’t tell me what questions to ask.” Geneva flashed a smile at Pauletta.
Malevolence? Or just ambitious? Either way, I was about to get nailed.
And I was right. Oh, Geneva started the questions easy. About the band, about my life before Rocktoberfest, and how things were now.
All things Pauletta warned me to anticipate.
Then came the one I didn’t see coming. “Gavin McPherson says you and Hugo Threadgold were carrying on an illicit affair while you were still a teenager. In high school.” She said the last bit as if I needed clarifying as to when I’d been a teenager.
I glared at Geneva.
Pauletta, far closer than I was certain Geneva was happy with, motioned her hand as if she were stuffing something down. Pushing something toward the ground.
Her way of saying, Axel, chill the fuck down.
“I don’t know any Gavin McPherson. He’s lying. I can’t say it any more plain than that. He doesn’t know what the fu—.” I swallowed. “What the heck he’s talking about.”
“Gavin is Hugo’s ex-husband. They were married back when you were in high—”
“The douchebag?”
At least one gasp reached my ears.
Not Geneva, though. No, her eyes lit with pure excitement.
I winced. “Am I allowed to say that on television?”
She waved me off. “We have censors. You just tell me why you think Gavin McPherson is a douchebag.” Her voice was low and sultry. Whether to ping some lizard part of my brain that would react to that kind of enticement, or whether she was just showing interest, I wasn’t certain.
Shoving my lizard brain away, I tried for the part that thought rationally. I might not use it as much as I should, but I certainly knew how to access it when I needed to. I smiled. A wide grin to show off my perfectly white and straight teeth. “I did meet Mr. McPherson. He made some wild, inaccurate, and frankly inappropriate comments. I’m only going to say this once—Hugo Threadgold and I were never involved. Ever. Back in high school he was a good teacher who helped a couple of poor kids get guitars and—”
“He helped you get guitars.”
“Yeah, me and Ed.” Keep your temper in check.
“Was he involved with Ed as well?”
“No.” I tried to remember to breathe. “And he wasn’t involved with me either. We didn’t have that kind of a relationship. He was my teacher. My mentor—”
“You’ve seen the video.”
“From October. Last year. There’s nothing from ten years ago because nothing happened. You’re barking up the wrong tree, lady. And maybe you shouldn’t be believing everyone who offers up information. This Gavin dude obviously has a hidden agenda. Or maybe not so hidden. He’s…I don’t think he’s a good person.” And when Hugo talks about him, he gets sad and mad and is…unhappy.
“He’s a pillar of the community.”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t lie. Plenty of important people tell lots of lies. And the media figure it out because, like, it’s in the public interest to know. So I’m suggesting you figure it out—that he’s lying—and then you leave me and Hugo alone.”
“So you are with Hugo?” More flashing triumph.
“I didn’t say that. One kiss doesn’t make a relationship.”
“Much as you would want it to.”
My heart squeezed. Yeah, I wanted that. More than anything. But he betrayed me—once in Black Rock and once last night. That shit needed to be resolved before we could move forward.
Wait. Did I want it to move forward? Could I find something redeemable about the relationship? About him? My parents had betrayed me over and over again. We won’t hurt you again. We didn’t mean it. We were just drunk… They were upstanding members of our community. And I’d never told the truth because I didn’t want to be seen as the poor abused Black kid. And I didn’t want people to think we were the norm. Plenty of kids had loving parents. Loving single moms. Not everyone got a shit sandwich in the form of abusive—
“Axel?”
I blinked.
Geneva’s expression was of…concern. Maybe even genuine as her brow knit, which definitely wouldn’t look good on camera. “We can stop—”
“No.” I straightened. “Sorry. Just thinking about how people come across as pious and aren’t really. This Gavin dude is one of them. Making shit up about someone he supposedly used to care about.” Fuck the swearing now. “My parents are held in high esteem…but they’re not good people. And I won’t go into details because, you know, I’ve made a good life for myself.” I looked into the camera. “I apologize to Hugo Threadgold for releasing the video. That was wrong of me. He had an expectation of privacy, and frankly, I’m a better person than this. I hope one day he lets me make it up to him.”
Geneva cocked her head. “So you hope to see him again?”
“Vancouver’s a small city.”
Total bullshit. The Greater Vancouver District had upward of two million. One could easily get lost.
Something told me, though, that my future held more Hugo Threadgold.
Or at least I hoped it did.
With that thought, I plastered on a smile, and we concluded the interview.