19. Torren
19
TORREN
When the voicemail picks up, just like I knew it would, I disconnect the call and drop my head back on the couch.
“No answer?”
I shake my head. “Is there ever?”
“You didn’t leave a message.”
I turn my head to the side and look at Jonah. “What’s the point? She knows it’s me.”
Jonah and I fall back into silence as the bus makes its way down the highway toward Las Vegas. We played four sold-out shows in Glendale, each one better than the last, and now we have three days off before we get to do it all again in Vegas.
With all the downtime Hammond has had built into the schedule, I’m enjoying this tour much more than our previous ones, but they’re still taxing on the body and mind. They’re still exhausting. And on days like today, I can’t help but wonder how much easier things would be if I’d never joined a band.
My eyes drift back to my phone, now lying discarded on the couch cushion beside me. Briefly, I let myself imagine it ringing. Answering it to hear my mom’s voice on the other end. She tells me happy birthday. I tell her the same. We catch each other up on things that have happened since we last spoke. I offer to fly her to the next show. We make plans for the next holiday. And then we exchange I love yous and hang up with the promise to speak again soon .
I feel like an idiot for wanting something so impossible.
For longing for something I’ve never actually seen in real life.
None of my bandmates have good relationships with their families. Well, maybe Sav, but even that’s new. It wasn’t always good. For years, it was toxic before becoming nonexistent. In the grand scheme of fucked-up family dynamics, mine could be so much worse.
But goddamn it. A call from my mother on our shared fucking birthday wouldn’t suck.
“What’s the last you heard about her?”
I tear my unfocused gaze from my phone and look back at Jonah. He’s lying on the other couch with a paperback novel open on his chest. His eyes are closed, and I’m grateful for that. I don’t think I could handle his scrutiny right now.
“Not much. Still working at the local diner. Still dating random-ass men. Still supporting my waste of space brother.”
Every few months, I have an investigator do a wellness check on my mom. I don’t know what I’m checking for, to be honest. There’s never any wellness to be found.
“And how is Sean?”
I sigh. “The same.”
Nothing ever changes. I harbor a lot of resentment regarding Sean. Resentment and guilt. It’s something I’ve spent many Therapy Thursdays unpacking. But no matter how many sessions we’ve devoted to my older brother, I just can’t seem to reach the end of it.
The longer we spend on this bus in silence, the more restless I start to feel. It’s my fucking birthday and I’m wallowing in self-pity. Two years ago, I’d have been celebrating with booze, drugs, and lots of sex. Now, I avoid hard substances to help keep my best friend alive, and the woman I used to fuck is in a monogamous relationship with someone else.
The realization pisses me off almost as much as it depresses me, and that makes me want to be reckless.
“This is fucking pathetic,” I groan, pushing myself to standing. “This is a fucking pathetic way to spend my birthday.”
“Ham asked if you wanted the week off,” Jonah reminds me. “You said no.”
“Shut up, Jo.”
He shrugs. “Take Callie out. ”
“No.”
My response is clipped, urgent, and Jonah arches a patronizing eyebrow. Even with his eyes closed, he looked judgmental.
“She’s your girlfriend. You should be seen spending time with her on your birthday.” When I don’t say anything, he turns his head toward me and opens his eyes. I see the flash of challenge in them right before he speaks again. “Fuck her.”
“No.”
“Then let me fuck her.”
Anger flares hot in my stomach and I glare at him. This isn’t the first time since she got here that he’s suggested it. It’s not the first time I’ve shot him down.
“The fuck is with you?” I growl, and he shrugs again.
“Have you seen her?”
He shakes his head and lets the question hang in the air like it needs no further explanation. And really it doesn’t. Because yeah, I have seen her, and that’s the fucking problem. I’ve seen her, and I’ve had my hands on her, and I’ve jerked my dick to the thought of her every night since we danced at the club.
If I fucked her? It’d be game over.
“No, you’re not fucking her, and neither am I,” I say again. “No one is fucking her.”
“Then fuck someone else.”
“For fuck’s sake, Jo. I’m not going to fuck someone else when I’m supposed to be dating Callie?—”
“It’s fake.”
“So? It’s still disrespectful as hell. And if that gets out to the media? The whole story will fall apart.”
“You suck at celibacy.”
I huff a laugh. “No, you suck at celibacy. I’m just a good fucking friend.”
Jonah’s lips curl the slightest bit. The kind of smile that puts my senses on high alert. The kind of smile that has me reaching for my phone to double-check that the hotel staff will have removed all hard liquor from the minibar in our suite before we check in.
“You’re right,” he says cryptically. “I do suck at celibacy.”
“Happy birthday!”
Sav and Mabel shout as I walk back into my suite from the hotel gym. I’m drenched in sweat from my attempt at running off the pent-up sexual frustration coursing through my veins. One look at Callie, and I confirm my attempt was unsuccessful.
There’s a cake sitting on the table with candles blazing, and everyone—including Red and Ziggy—are wearing cheap birthday hats.
“My birthday was yesterday,” I point out, but they all ignore me.
“Make a wish, old man.” Mabel gestures to the cake.
I grin and walk toward her. “I’m not old.”
“Older than all of us.”
“Except Red,” Sav chimes in. “But he doesn’t count.”
I shake my head, flicking my eyes back to Callie briefly. She looks gorgeous but uncomfortable as hell standing in the back of the room. I haven’t seen her since we got to the hotel yesterday, and even then, it was just a brief staged check-in for the tabloids. My fingers curl into a fist at the memory of her hand in mine, and I have to force myself to look away and back at the cake.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOR is written in blue icing with little black music notes piped around the words and twenty-nine candles dripping blue wax along a white-iced border. It’s a small, simple cake, and it’s perfect. It’s just the reminder I needed that this band is better than any family I could have been born into. My mom? My brother? I don’t need them as long as I have Sav, Mabel, and Jo.
“Blow ‘em out before we catch the hotel on fire,” Sav teases, and I narrow my eyes playfully at her before letting them fall shut and blowing. The candles extinguish immediately, and everyone claps. “What did you wish for?”
I glance at Sav and shrug. “None of your business.”
She rolls her eyes, and it feels good. It feels like how it could be. How it might be soon if things continue in the direction they’ve been. Healing and growth aren’t usually linear, though, so I won’t get my hopes up.
Mabel steps up and starts cutting the cake, and I once again let my eyes stray to Callie. This time, she looks far less uncomfortable than she did moments earlier. This time, she’s talking with Jonah, and from the smile on her face, she’s enjoying it. Without overthinking it, I snatch two plates of cake from the table and head toward her. When I’m within arm’s reach, Callie’s attention turns to me while Jo’s stays on her.
I hand Callie a plate of cake and fix my eyes on my guitarist.
“You hitting on my girlfriend? On my birthday?”
I attempt to say it jokingly, but there’s still an underlying bite that can’t be missed. Jonah doesn’t even look at me when he responds.
“ Fake girlfriend.”
Callie’s eyebrows shoot up, and I force a smile.
“It’s got to look real, Jo .”
Jonah glances sideways at me, eyes glassy but clear, and arches a brow. “I’d think it would make it more realistic.”
I grit my teeth. “Jonah.”
I can feel Callie’s attention on me, but I keep mine on Jonah. Glaring at him. Warning him to keep his fucking mouth shut. He holds my eye contact for one breath, then two, and then he looks at Callie and fucking grins.
“Think about it,” he says to her.
My fury spikes further as he takes his finger and swipes it through the icing on her cake, then sucks his finger clean before giving her another grin.
“You’ve got my number.” When he looks back at me, the grin is still fixed on his face. “Happy birthday, Tor.”
I don’t bother watching him leave the suite. I don’t ask where the fuck he’s going like I normally would. Right now, I don’t care.
“What did he mean?” Callie and I say at the same time.
I shake my head and plow forward. “What does he want you to think about?”
Her eyebrows slant downward while a pink flush tints her cheeks.
“He invited me to hang out tonight.”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know. Hang out .”
“Jonah doesn’t hang out with women, Callie. He fucks them.”
Her eyes flare wide and shoot over my shoulder. The room has gone quiet, and I know if I look behind me, I’ll find everyone’s attention on me .
“Thanks for the cake,” I say into the air. “I have to talk to Callie.” Then I grab her arm and pull her into my bedroom, kicking the door shut behind me.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Callie’s words are hissed as she shakes off my hold. “He’s not going to try to sleep with me, Torren. Jesus. He’s just being nice.”
I scoff and shake my head. How do I explain this to her without sounding like a complete asshole?
“Jonah isn’t nice?—”
“Oh, that’s a great thing to say about your supposed best friend.”
I raise a frustrated brow at her interruption and try again. “He’s good with the band. But he’s not nice to?—”
“Groupies?”
“Women he doesn’t know.”
She rolls her eyes and folds her arms over her chest. “Maybe he’s trying to get to know me. Maybe he wants to be nice to me since I’m stuck here for three?—”
“Do you want to fuck him?”
Her jaw drops with a gasp before she snaps it shut, nostrils flaring. “You’re an asshole. It’s none of your business who I want to sleep with.”
“It is if you’re supposed to be my girlfriend.”
She forces a sweet smile and bats her eyelashes. “ Fake girlfriend.”
“You’re not fucking my bandmate, Callie. That just?—”
“Do you share women?” Now my jaw drops, and her eyebrows rise to her hairline. “Oh, my fuck, you do.”
I am going to kill Jonah.
“Did you share Sav?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “Never. That was different.”
She laughs. “Oh, so you only share women who don’t matter.”
“It’s not like that.” I drag a hand down my face. I don’t know how we got to this place so quickly. I don’t know how to explain it in a way that she might understand. “It’s not that they don’t matter, it’s just?—"
“It’s just only something you do with groupies, right? You only fuck groupies together.”
When I don’t answer, she laughs again, louder this time. “Oh my god. Did you guys tag-team any groupies in Glendale?”
“No. ”
“Bullshit.”
“We didn’t. It wouldn’t look good. We have to?—”
“Sell it. Sure. Right.” I watch as she drags a hand down her face and takes a deep breath. “Jesus Christ, I’m in over my head. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”
I huff out a laugh of my own because she’s just said what I was thinking. My heart is thundering behind my rib cage, jealousy and frustration and arousal swirling around like a fucking cyclone in my chest.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into ? I’m teetering along the edge of an open firepit, and with every day, I’m caring less and less if I fall in.
She’s right—Jonah and I have shared women. Often ever since Sav and I officially ended things. And seeing him fuck someone I’ve fucked has never bothered me before. Seeing him fuck someone I’m also fucking sparks no jealousy at all. But Callie is different, and I can’t fucking figure out why. She’s been different from the beginning. Jo wanting to fuck her is one thing—he’ll stick his dick in anyone with a pretty face and tits—but if Callie wanted him? Not just for sex, but really wanted him?
The thought makes me murderous.
I shouldn’t care if she develops feelings for Jonah, but I do.
She’s my Firebird. Mine .
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I know who she is. That I remember her from ArtFusion. I know she remembers. It’s the only thing that can explain her scathing attitude toward me. She’s holding a grudge when she doesn’t have a right to. I want her. I want her so badly that it aches, but she’s lied to me more than once. I don’t trust her, and that’s the only reason I keep my mouth shut.
“Just...watch yourself around him,” I tell her finally, meeting her eye and hoping I sound more protective than possessive. “If he thinks he can fuck you, he will.”
She glares at me. “That’s a dickhead thing to say.”
I shrug. “I’m being honest.”
“And if you’re wrong? If he just wants to be nice?”
“I’m not wrong, Callie. I’ve known him for over a decade. He thinks you’re hot. He wants to fuck you. If you let him, he’ll do it, and then it will fuck everything up. ”
She shuts her eyes and tilts her head to the ceiling. “Right. If word got out, it would tank the story.”
I let her infer what she wants. It would fuck up the PR relationship story. It would start a whole new cyclone of media bullshit. But I meant more than that. It would fuck up Jonah’s and my relationship because I wouldn’t be able to forgive him, and I’m not even remotely ready to explore that fact.
“Is he sober?” Callie asks, catching me off guard enough that I answer honestly.
“Most of the time.”
“Most of the time?”
I purse my lips and run back over his behavior from moments earlier. Could he have been drunk? High? Possibly. I wasn’t around him long enough to tell for sure, and that makes me feel like a shit friend. My fingers itch to reach for my phone, but I resist. Jo’s an adult, and he gets pissed when he thinks I’m checking up on him like some sort of helicopter parent.
“Jonah’s a really good guy with some really nasty demons,” I say slowly, trying like hell to be honest without betraying his confidence. “He worked his ass off to get sober. But sometimes...he’ll...backslide.”
“And you’re all okay with that?”
“Honestly? If it’s weed or booze, I think we’re all just happy it’s not something harder. And we watch him. If he starts to spiral...”
I shrug, but I don’t say anything else. I worry I’ve already said too much, but I wasn’t going to lie to her. I wait in silence until Callie looks at me again.
“Fine. No hanging out with Jonah.”
Then she turns around and walks out.
Around eleven, low music starts to play in the suite outside my bedroom door, signaling Jonah’s return from his tour of the Vegas Strip.
According to José, Jo went to six different nightclubs. Drank and smoked, but he’s not shitfaced, and he never tried to get his hands on anything else. I’m standing from the bed and dropping the book I was reading on the comforter, readying myself to go out and speak to him about Callie, when I hear a woman’s laughter. It’s muffled with the music, but I hear it, and my spine goes rigid. I wouldn’t put it past Callie to come here with him just to piss me off. I wouldn’t put it past Jonah to fuck her just because he felt challenged by me. It’s a game to him—to us—and he still doesn’t realize I’ve changed the rules.
Without thinking twice, I storm into the suite. The fucker didn’t even make it to his bedroom before putting the woman on her knees, and I fume at the sight of her. Jonah’s facing me, a redhead kneeling before him with his hands fisted in her hair, and he’s thrusting into her mouth.
Callie.
Rage clouds my vision as I stare, and then Jonah looks up. He makes eye contact and gives me a sloppy grin.
“I knew you’d cave,” he says, moving his hand to the back of Callie’s head. I hear her gag, and he groans, eyes falling shut briefly before speaking to me once more. “Just getting her ready for you. You ready for Torren, sweets?”
I snap, closing the distance in three strides.
“You motherfucker.”
With both hands, I reach over Callie’s body and shove his chest. He stumbles back with a laugh, hand flying to wrap around his erection.
“Fine, fine! You can cut in. All you had to do was as?—”
“I told you to stay away from her,” I growl, snarling at his hard, wet dick before whipping my glare onto Callie. “What the fu?—”
My words die on my tongue.
It’s not Callie.
Instead of angry green eyes, I see excited brown. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and then eagerly reaches for the band of my sweats.
“I’m ready for you, Torren. I already signed the papers.”
I step back. Relief floods me as I shake my head. “Not interested,” I tell her before returning my attention to Jo. “What are you on?”
His smile turns into a scowl immediately. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“What is it?”
“Weed, asshole. Vodka. That okay with you, Dad ? I’m not a fucking idiot.”
I sigh, shaking my head again. “Handle your shit, Jonah. Sav will call off the whole tour and send your ass back to Tranquil Waters the moment you fuck up. ”
He grabs the woman’s head and shoves himself so far down her throat that she gags, but he doesn’t take his furious eyes off me.
“Tranquil Waters can get in line to suck my fucking dick, and so can Savannah.”
I scoff. I don’t argue with him. I send one last disinterested glance to the groupie on her knees, and then I leave the suite. I’m barefoot and shirtless in just a pair of sweats, but I don’t let that stop me from going to the terrace. It’s reserved just for the band while we’re here, and right now, I need some fucking peace.