Chapter 3 #2
I hang up, my hands shaking.
My heart doesn’t want to believe Tommy is responsible, but it seems my body knows he’s related to this, somehow.
Fuck. I really, really love my brother, but right now, I really, really don’t like him.
Kingston’s apartment is quiet. He and Sebastian are going to try to convince me to move in here. I’m not ready, and those guys are so freaking dominant, I’m worried they’ll talk me into it.
I pull up Natasha’s contact info and send her a text.
Hey. I’m texting instead of calling because I don’t want to put you on the spot.
But my apartment was robbed and the door’s broken.
I need a place to crash. You can say no, and I’ll figure something else out .
Mrs. Dali will be my next attempt. And if that doesn’t work, well, I guess I’m staying with Sebastian or Kingston.
My phone chimes just as Kingston enters the room wearing only a pair of sweatpants and carrying a plate of pancakes. I smile up at him and then glance at my phone.
You can stay with me for a couple of nights. My roommate’s out of town. When she’s back, though, you’ll be on your own.
I text back a quick thank-you and tell her I’ll see her at work later.
“What’s going on?” Kingston asks, sitting down next to me on the bed.
“Just lining up a place to stay,” I say.
He frowns and hands me the plate. There are a few slices of bacon next to the pancakes. “You can stay here.”
“Arrangements are already made,” I say, picking up a piece of crispy bacon, “but I appreciate your offer just the same.”
“Are those arrangements permanent?” Sebastian asks, coming into the room bearing a mug of coffee. He sets it on the nightstand next to me.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll go to my friend Natasha’s place. It’s all settled.”
It’s a bit of a fib, because there’s nothing permanent about staying with Natasha, but as soon as my door’s fixed, I’ll be back into my old place, and everything will be back to normal…or as normal as it can get.
Sebastian
The streets of San Esteban are filled with cars, particularly Caro Boulevard, which connects the Bellefleur District to Dorado Heights.
Kellan drives me along, stopping and starting every few yards.
Nighttime road construction clogs the boulevard further.
The idea was probably to keep construction from interfering with everyone’s work day, but it’s still a pain in the ass.
Three days have gone by since Kingston and I had Ella in our arms. It was a glimpse of heaven, and then she figured out a new living situation, and she’s been busy with her jobs ever since.
I offered to help her move her things, but she just gave me a funny look and said she didn’t have enough possessions to even require help.
I want to give this girl the world. King and I both do. But will she let us?
Tonight, she’s working a late shift for Maids in Heaven. I’m growing antsy, wanting to see her again.
Traffic halts our progress once more, so I tell Kellan I’ll just get out and walk the rest of the way.
It feels like ages since I visited Kitty Cat Karaoke.
But after days of trying unsuccessfully to write a song for Trina, I need to visit this old haunt and blend into the background, brood for a bit, sip an iced tea and listen to people try to sing.
Rick spots me before I reach the door, and he opens it wide for me, grinning. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey,” I say, handing him a twenty for the cover.
He frowns at it. “You’re not singing tonight?”
“Nope.”
“Good,” he says with a laugh. “We were slammed for the rest of that weekend. I missed the quiet.”
“I’ve missed it, too.” I walk into the lounge and a chorus of cheers rises up.
So much for quiet.
“Bastian!” someone shouts. “Bastian, what are you going to sing tonight?”
“Will you sing a duet with me?” a brown-haired woman yells, waving her hands at me.
I turn right around and go back to the door.
Rick gives me a sad smile. “Leaving already, huh?”
“I liked it better when I was anonymous.”
He laughs at that. “You were never anonymous. The regulars all knew you wanted to be left alone. But you just had to go viral and now…well…you saw it. There’s a new clientele.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. Jenny’s happy.”
Jenny’s the owner.
“At least some good came of it,” I say. “I’ll come back once the excitement has died down.”
He nods. “Give it a week or two.”
I start down the block, pulling my phone from my pocket so I can text Kellan to come get me. But the traffic hasn’t improved. Maybe I can chill out somewhere else for an hour or two, give traffic a chance to die down, spare my driver.
Ella’s pub, Bartleby’s, is close by, so I head there. Too bad she isn’t working tonight.
I enter the pub and seat myself at the bar. A man who looks to be in his forties, with bushy black eyebrows and bright blue eyes, takes my order of iced tea. While I sip it, I pull my phone out and look at some of the lyrics I’ve copied into the notes app.
They all suck. Every single line.
I briefly consider giving Trina a shitty song. Let her think I don’t have “it” in me anymore.
But if we drop a new song, fans of mine will pick it up. They’ll spend their money on my work. Can I disappoint them? No, I can’t do that. Releasing a shitty song is not a victimless crime.
“Natasha!” the guy with bushy eyebrows says loudly.
A young woman with black hair and light brown skin hurries up to the bar. “Yeah, Kevin? What’s up?”
“Table nineteen’s order got overcooked. Give them a free round and let them know it’ll be a few more minutes.”
“Sure,” she says, hurrying off to one of the tables.
When she comes back, I wave at her.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“Natasha—is that your name?” I ask.
She nods and gives me a suspicious look, then says, “Oh, right! You’re with Ella. She’s not working tonight.”
“I know,” I say. “I was just in the neighborhood. How are things working out—is she all moved in yet? She wouldn’t let me help her.”
Natasha frowns. The confusion on her face tells me all I need to know. “Um…”
“She’s not moving in with you, is she?” I say.
“I don’t—it’s not my place—I have to get back to work,” she says in a hurry. Then she disappears.
For fuck’s sake.
My little princess lied to me.
So where is she staying?
Before I can type out a text to her, a woman with short brown hair enters the pub and makes a beeline for the bar and the stool next to mine. She looks familiar—then I realize it’s because I just saw her at the karaoke bar.
“Hi, Bastian,” she says, sidling up to me and leaning against the bar. “What are you drinking?”
“Iced tea,” I say.
She wrinkles her nose. “That’s no fun. Certainly not satisfying.”
I don’t have anything to say to that. I just want her to go away.
“Come home with me,” she says, taking my hand in hers in a determined grip.
I could pry my hand away, but I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to hurt a woman ever again.
“I’ll get you a real drink,” she says in a lower voice. “Something satisfying.”
“No, thank you,” I say, wondering why I’m being polite when she’s grabbing me like this. I’ve had overly friendly fans before, but this is ridiculous.
I’m trying to disentangle my fingers from hers when a female voice says from behind me, “Sebastian?”
I turn around and see Ella, who looks stricken. And of course she does—a strange woman is holding my hand.
Fuck.