Chapter 12
Derek
For the first few weeks of July, I keep my distance from Allegra. Honestly, she makes it easier by spending as much time as possible away from the brownstone.
Allegra throws herself into work with a single-minded determination I can’t help but admire.
From Dre, I learn about the initiatives she sparks.
The collaborations she arranges with Maybelle’s House.
The fundraising events she volunteers at and her newest friend, a formerly homeless man in his sixties, named Buck.
She also befriends Claire, the girl who does our cover designs, and starts spending nights out with the Boston Hawks Hockey girls, including Vivi who runs Maybelle’s House.
As much as her new life, forged without my help or her brother’s support, annoys me, I can’t dim the flicker of pride that flares. She’s doing it. Stellina’s brightness is growing and if it continues, unchecked, it’ll be enough to light up city streets.
While Allegra is busy finding herself, I follow suit. I throw myself into the music, into sessions at the studio, into preparations for our upcoming European tour.
The song I can’t quit continues to play on a mental loop as I wrestle, day in and day out, with the lyrics. Nothing feels right. In the meantime, I confirm the date I’ll do a music lesson with Dre’s kids.
I carry on with fucking my sidepiece, the leggy brunette with a splatter of freckles on the bridge of her nose, and mentally pretend she’s Allegra. She’s nothing but a cheap imitation but right now, it’s as close as I can get to the real deal, so I take it.
“A here?” Mav asks as he enters the kitchen.
I slide one headphone off my right ear and glance at him. “What if I was working?”
“You wouldn’t be sitting in a common area,” he answers easily, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out a bag of pretzels. He drops a handful of twists into his mouth, chomping loudly.
I slide my headphone back on my ear.
“What are you working on?” Mav wonders.
Sighing, I yank the headphones down around my neck. “A song.” The song! If only I could perfect it; if only it flowed the way I know it’s capable of.
“Why are you sitting in the kitchen?” He glances around the bare space, his eyebrows pinched.
I don’t want to admit I’m waiting for Allegra to get home.
I don’t want to voice that she’s been spending less and less time in our fold and more time out with Claire and Vivi.
More time at Boston Hawks events and Maybelle’s House fundraisers.
Lunches with Dre and Buck and her work crew; drinks with friends I know nothing about.
“Change of scenery,” I murmur.
“Allegra home?”
I shrug, as if to indicate I have no idea.
Mav cracks his neck. “I’m happy for her,” he shares, as if I should be interested. Except I am so like a schmuck, I lean forward and pitch an elbow on the butcher block. “She’s been here a month and she’s already got a friend group. Good girls too. I mean, Claire’s a fucking riot.”
“Yeah,” I agree. Claire Merrick is a cool chick. Even dating Easton Scotch, who is a total douchebag, didn’t dim her awesomeness.
“I’m glad she stuck around after you fucked her over,” Mav comments.
I roll my eyes. “We don’t need to revisit the past. Claire and I were a summer fling. It’s not my fault she thought it was more than that.”
“It was your fault that you stuck her with a $3,000 bill at Carter’s.” Mav lifts an eyebrow, calling me out for some stupid shit I did when I bailed on Claire to get high and fuck some chick in the alley behind Boston’s best steakhouse.
“I paid her back.”
His eyebrow lifts.
“I did. Took a few years but it got sorted and Claire and I are straight. What the fuck is your point?”
Mav chomps another pretzel. “You’re in a mood.”
I close my eyes, my frustration rising. “We spend too much fucking time together.”
His loud chewing echoes in my eardrums.
“The point is, you’re obvious as fuck, sitting here, pretending to work when you’re really wondering where A’s at.”
My eyes snap open, a frown twisting my face.
Mav laughs. “So predictable. So, you are wondering?”
“Fuck off.”
He laughs again and shoves more pretzels into his mouth. “Just be grateful she’s out with a solid girl group.”
“She’s out with the Hawks girls tonight?” I ask, hating myself for giving Mav the satisfaction of knowing that yes, I am wondering, thinking, worrying about Allegra. Our bandmate’s sister.
Mav shrugs and smirks. “She’s out somewhere. I just got a workout in with Dre, and he said the staff took off early today. Summer Fridays.” Mav gives a little shimmy, being the playful doofus he is.
“Bet.”
Mav snorts. “Anyway, I’m going to rinse off. Want some help with that?” He flips his chin at my open laptop.
While Mav has decent ideas, I’m used to working, writing, solo.
I like the process of scribbling out thoughts, playing with rhythms and tempos, experimenting with lyrics.
And this piece I’m working on, the parts I’m stuck on, are too personal to share yet.
I’m still making sense of it. I don’t know how to wade through my mess of thoughts with an audience, especially a loud chewing one like Mav. “I’m straight, mate. But thanks.”
Disappointment clouds his eyes, but he blinks it away.
I peer closer. Did I offend him? “I—”
“No need to explain.” He holds up a hand. “Another time.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I stammer.
Retreating to my bedroom, I toss my laptop on my desk and swipe up my phone. I’m not much of a social media guy but I’ve got a Finsta account to keep up with what’s happening in the world.
I find Allegra’s handle @happystar and chuckle.
“See what you did there, Stellina,” I murmur, recalling that her name, Allegra, means happy in Italian.
I scroll through her feed. It’s mostly photos of her with friends, groups of girls laughing, eating, and posing. There’s some of the beach in California, a smattering of popular tourist attractions in Boston, like Paul Revere’s House, and foodie pictures.
It’s a snapshot of Allegra’s life. A window into her world.
I tap on her stories and my eyes narrow as I recognize the bar, Taps, where Allegra is taking a selfie with Claire and one of the Hawks players, Reese Keller.
In the next story, a guy I don’t recognize has his arm wrapped around Allegra’s waist, a hand splayed on her hip.
“Who the fuck are you?” I mutter, tapping to the next story.
A group taking tequila shots. Caption: Apparently, this is for @TorstenHansen!
I roll my eyes. Stupid hockey. Tap for the next photo.
Allegra wearing a Hawks hat, some random kissing her cheek.
Claire, Vivi, and Allegra giggling.
Easton Scotch and the team captain, Austin Merrick, their shot glasses raised in the air.
Allegra sitting on some fuckwad’s lap, his palm resting on her upper thigh, his fingers way too close to the seam of her jeans.
“Fuck this,” I swear, striding to my closet. I’ll change and swing by Taps. Walk in for a beer. It’s not like I haven’t frequented the bar before. I mean, it’s not my spot like it is for the Hawks players, but anyone can grab a beer if they’re in the mood.
I press my thumb against the screen to switch to the next story and groan when I realize the group has relocated. Now, Allegra is sitting in a kitchen barstool at, I’m assuming, one of the Hawks’ houses.
“Of course, she’s friends with the fucking Hawks,” I sneer, tossing my phone onto my bed.
My earlier pride is snuffed out as anger takes root.
Why the hell did she have to befriend the Hawks?
Who are these guys she’s hanging with?
Are any of them trying to get with her?
Of course, they are. Any man with a cock would want to stick inside Allegra Rousell. She’s a walking wet dream.
I grip the back of my neck, my agitation making me antsy.
Doesn’t Levi give a shit that his sister is hanging out with strangers, all around the damn city? Doesn’t anyone care about Allegra? Worry about her safety? Display concern over her choices, however sound they may be?
I retrieve my phone and push into the hallway, in desperate need of a distraction. Swiping a finger across the screen, I call up my leggy brunette, who’s always down to fuck.
“Hey, Reign,” she answers on the first ring.
Predictable. Desperate.
“You around?” I cut to the chase.
“I can be there in fifteen.” Her voice is breathless.
“I’ll come to you,” I say, wanting to get the hell out of my house. Away from reminders, energy, that belong to Allegra.
“Okay,” she agrees enthusiastically. Shit, I hope she doesn’t think this means something. “It’s just sex,” I remind her, in case she’s reading into it.
“Always,” she confirms. Like the idiot I am, I believe her.
She rattles off her address and I slip my phone into the back pocket of my jeans before bounding down the stairs and out the door.
Then, I head to Jenn’s place and fuck her hard. It offers a temporary reprieve, a momentary distraction, a sweet relief.
For an hour, I lose myself in skin and sweat. In moans and curses. In a woman with long brown hair, a tight body, and freckles. A gorgeous woman.
But she’s still not the one I want.