Nineteen - Asher
Leaning forward, I put my elbows on my knees, gripping my phone. Heart after heart floats up the screen, accompanied by comments of praise and admiration. My breaths shudder in my chest, ballooning with elation and pride.
Wow! Following you guys now!
You guys sound amazing!
Holy hell! They're hot as hell!
Wow! @whisperedwordsband! Who are you? You sound so good!
Fan for life!
My eyes widen as I scroll through the comments, and I flush. If this is what even a sliver of fame feels like, then I'm fucking blown away. All these people are lining up to get a piece of us and begging for more videos and performances. Some are local people. But most are scattered across the country and overseas.
Holy shit.
The list goes on with more intrusive questions just as our newest video hits one-million views on ClockTok. Disbelief slams through me as the numbers climb and climb with each passing second. We’ll be internet sensations before the night is through, and everyone will shout our names. Now, we need to deliver more performances to the masses before we fade into obscurity before the competition.
It's hard to believe that just yesterday, my father forced us to play an impromptu concert for the neighborhood. Begrudgingly, of course. Never in a million years would he actually want us to live out our little fantasy, as he calls it. But when the public wants something, my father will deliver.
My father's talk from yesterday rattles in my mind when he pulled me away from the cookout and threw me into his office with such force I landed on my ass with a grunt. The pain seared up my tailbone, letting me know the kind of mood he was in.
“Stay away from the trash, son. You're a fucking embarrassment,” my father hisses, sending a fist into my gut as we stand in his brightly lit office.
All the breath leaves my body when I double over, counting to ten. Desperation to remove myself from here clamps my tongue down. I refuse to say a goddamn thing and inflict more pain on my body when I could simply shut my mouth and walk away. One day, I won’t have to endure his angry fists—but that day is not today.
“Stand up straight,” he barks, grabbing me by the collar and yanking me up despite the pain of his blow, knotting my stomach.
My lips pop open when he releases me and leans against his mahogany desk in a relaxed pose. River teases me that a demon resides in my body, but the actual devil stands before me with black eyes, a cruel smile, and a wicked right hook.
“Enlighten me on why the trash is eating my food. Judge Drake seems to think she's nothing but a whore, luring you in for money,” he says in a smooth voice, straightening his ten thousand dollar suit he insisted on wearing to the catered cookout. “And we all know what happens when a whore lures a man of our status in with her pussy.” He raises a brow, alluding to the woman he married and now loathes.
My father may be a good business owner, making more money than anyone in a ten-mile radius. But as a father? He's shit. It’s no wonder my mother buried her anguish in a needle and slowly poisoned her veins to leave his tight grip. Some days, I wish I could do the same. Financially, though? I’m stuck, rooted in the spot with nowhere to run.
“She's not luring us in for money,” I say in a small voice, locking my hands together in front of me. I keep my eyes down low and my body locked tight. The last thing I want to do is provoke the devil even more, but I have to tell him something believable. “We're the ones using her.”
She may not be after our money, but there's something about River West that makes me want to either fuck her or run her off. She's dangerous for us; I don't know to what extent. Something is nagging in the back of my mind warning me to watch my back and my boys. They’re my family, and I’ll be damned if one chick swoops in and ruins what my family has built for the past five years.
My father scoffs, checking his watch. “Right. Using her?” Great. He wants me to elaborate more than I fucking should.
I clear my throat. “River is Corbin West's daughter. He owns…” Ding. Ding. Ding. For once in my short life, I’ve uttered the correct words he wants to hear. His eyes light up and widen, and his body puffs up with pride.
“I know who he is and what he owns,” my father barks in a deep voice. Bravely, I meet his eyes. His lips purse, and he nods, something churning in his mind. “That man is worth more than this entire neighborhood combined and more than Montgomery, Inc.” He opens his lips to possibly say more but rethinks it when he shakes his head, redirecting the conversation. “The neighbor, Susie, specifically requested you boys to put on a show for the neighborhood. She says you sound really good for a waste of time and would like a live concert.”
“A show?” I ask, my heart pounding against my chest at the prospect of playing in front of the crowd.
“Get your fucking guitars and shit and bring it out. You and the boys are performing tonight.” He steps forward, towering over me with a twisted face. “Don't fuck this up and embarrass the family, Asher. Make it good.”
“Of course, sir,” I say quickly, taking a step toward the door, aching to escape the oppressive atmosphere putting pressure on my chest.
“Impress me, boy,” he mutters from his desk. “Prove to me it's not a waste of time.” My eyes widen when I leave the office and head out the door, trailing Kieran and Rad just as he pushes Van off River.
That conversation was all the permission I needed. I felt lighter than I had in days, elated at the opportunity to impress my overbearing and relentless father. If I showed him what we could do, even for a night, we’d have a better shot at making it all real.
That night, we blew everyone away with our raw talent, drawing praise from the drunk housewives and stuffy old men. My fucking father even nodded in my direction with a sense of pride swallowing him. He didn’t utter another word to me that night, instead locking himself away in his office. Even Gloria stood stupefied by the closed door and retreated somewhere in the house. For one night, the man who always disapproved of our actions left us alone.
Turning my attention back to the screen, I smile. There we are with the sun on our backs, barely beaming down. Dusk settles in, leaving nothing but a pink sky as our backdrop.
Kieran leads us into the beginning of our set list, starting with Midnight . His voice rings through the microphone, and his piercing eyes follow the camera as it moves in front of him, getting a close-up. The smirk that lights up his face and the sparkle in his eyes makes my heart drop into my stomach. As she moves, his eyes follow like a predator watching his prey, ready to pounce.
River leans the camera over Kieran's shoulder, capturing Rad's intense grin. His arms pound the sticks into the snares several times before crashing them into the cymbals and back down to the rest of the kit. Rad's tongue pokes out from between his lips, and a look of concentration crosses his face. But when his eyes find River standing before him with the camera, he brightens completely and watches her as she backs away, turning to Callum and then me. Throughout the rest of the performance, their eyes follow her every move, never straying from her presence.
“Dude! It's fucking amazing!” Rad whoops, slumping down on the couch beside me with a dopey grin. Bringing a beer to his lips, he takes a long swig and then sighs when he pulls it back.
“One million views and counting,” I gape, shaking my head in disbelief. Who knew this many people would want to see us perform?
Jesus. Images of our future shine brighter and brighter in my mind, and genuine excitement starts to settle in—us on the big stage with big lights shining down on us as the crowd chants our name over and over. People fall to their knees to get a taste of the music we've bled for. Staring straight ahead, I get lost in the fantasy that could one day be our reality. To leave this place and never see my father again lifts a massive amount of pressure off my chest. I’ve always ached to see the rest of the world from a tour bus, and the closer we get to making our dreams come true, the lighter I feel.
My only worry… My only concern holding me back is our little sister, Camilla. Her little face pops into my mind twisting in grief as our father strikes me down to the ground, raining blow after blow after he had a rough night of drinking, forcing her to see the consequences of my actions. Forcing her to see what her life will be like if she doesn’t bend to my father’s every whim and desire. She’s seen it a million times—his fists hitting us and tearing us down. For every punishment we receive, she’s there to witness our downfall with tears in her eyes and a distraught expression.
If I leave her behind, what will happen? Will he threaten her with a sharp tongue and swift fists? Her cries from over the weekend plague my nightmares. Camilla shouldn't have to go through what we do—ever. Somehow, I need to get Camilla and Gloria away from my father for good. But how? I have no idea.
I swallow hard, returning to the murmured conversation going on around me between the guys, snapping me back to the present instead of sucking me into the past. The boys mill around Callum and Rad’s house—our home base.
“She did good, yeah?” Kieran asks with pride, referring to the camera woman in charge of filming our entire show.
“ Little Brat,” I murmur, motioning for her to come to me with the curl of my finger.
As the drunken crowd of suburban moms moves closer, creating a circle around our setup like sharks circling blood in the ocean, they still. Their glazed-over eyes light up when Kieran tunes his guitar, quietly listening for the right notes. It's like they're hoping to relieve their shitty teenage years with booze, bands, and… Yeah, I'm not finishing that disgusting thought. Even Gloria straightens her spine in the crowd with a glass of red wine perched in her hand, quietly assessing the band. We’ve never played for anyone in this neighborhood, instead hiding in our home base’s basement, trying to conceal our sound.
Per her usual, River raises a defiant brow a few steps away, refusing to budge until I'm huffing mad. And fucking hard. One day, I'd love to pound the attitude out of her ass until she's panting and begging me to stop the punishment, which I wouldn't. My little whore would tremble before me after coming so many times… I… Shit. Why does she take my mind there?
No one gets a rise out of me like this. Not even Rad, who tries his hardest. The longer I'm around River, the more I want to bend to her every whim and then bend her to mine. Something deep, dark, and dangerous hides in River. Calling me to release whatever it is. A wildness she never sets free. The tears she refuses to shed. I want to be the one to tame her and then hold her, letting her know everything will be okay. A sliver of darkness filled with unresolved trauma rests behind the spark in her eyes, hidden from the world but not hidden from me. I see behind the tough mask she presents to the world, and one day, I'll pull it off. I close my eyes, groaning at the serious hold she has on us. It's borderline dangerous.
Knocking the dick-hardening thoughts from my mind before I mount her in front of everyone, I watch as she places her hands on her hips. Then, and only then, does her magical grin spread across her luscious lips, making me wish my lips were on hers. Fuck me.
“Yes, Evil Ash?” she asks in a sarcastic tone, batting her lashes playfully at me, hoping to get a reaction.
I lick my lips, wanting to confront her about that stupid nickname. But I think better of it and huff.
“Take your phone from your pocket and record us.”
It's not a question. It's a demand for her to comply. If there's one thing about my little brat, she loves to poke the bear—aka —me. Brats like River need swift direction, not options. Her lips pop open, exposing the argument on the tip of her tongue. I roll my eyes.
“Please, River,” I bark, placating her with the niceness everyone else offers her. Kieran always says I'm a perpetual grump, which must be true, judging by how she stiffens.
“Did that hurt?” she quips, digging her brand-new phone from her pocket.
“No,” I growl, clenching my teeth. Here she goes again, winding me tighter than I was before. One day, I’ll fucking explode and grab her by the hair. But that’s not today. Not when the crowd closes in even closer than before.
She shrugs, clicks a few things on her phone, and nods. “All right. This will be good for your ClockTok account.”
“We don’t have a ClockTok account,” I deadpan with a grimace, thinking about the ridiculous video-sharing app everyone obsesses over.
“You do now, boss man,” she says with a grin, shoving the stupid phone in my face.
My teeth clench when a picture of the four of us pops up in the little window, accompanied by the username: whisperedwordsband and a little bio about who we are and where we’re from. There’s even a link to all our social media profiles—the same profiles we barely use—at the top. Fuck.
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” I ask, blinking at her. Who knew a Central girl could be so damn useful with these sorts of things.
“Sometimes, I think you underestimate my abilities. It’s kind of offensive, Evil Ash. Now, play your little show, and I’ll capture it all.” She grins one last time, stepping back and settling herself next to Gloria.
I swallow hard, watching Gloria lean in, whisper something into River’s ear, and back away. Their faces give nothing away, but I know something out of left field was said when River’s lip curls, and she shakes it off. Something to ask her later when we’re alone, and I can force the words from her lips.
FUCK!
I blow out my breath, running a hand down my face when Kieran walks by, swiping the phone from my hand as he passes by. “Jesus. There are like forty thousand comments!”
“It's about how hot we are, isn't it? Cuz we're fucking smoking!” Rad explains with an even bigger grin.
“Nigel gave me permission to do that,” I say in a monotone voice, keeping my eyes forward, refusing to meet his bewildered expression.
Kieran chokes on his drink, snapping his head at me. “He what?”
“He said impress me,” I blurt, running a hand down my face.
What I don't say is, judging by the non-existent interaction we had with him last night, that I succeeded in impressing him.
“Impress him?” Kieran mumbles with confusion.
I shrug. “No idea. But he seems semi-on board. So, we can head to the competition without issue whenever the time comes.”
Without issue would be a dream come true. But I’m a realist. At the drop of a dime, my father could change his mind. Not that he has any real say. If I want to leave this place with my life intact, we need to be smart about it.
Kieran snorts, knowing exactly what’s going through my mind. “Right,” he mutters, throwing my phone back to me.
“Looks like we need Pretty Girl to get us more shows so we can keep feeding the fans,” Rad says with a lazy grin, putting a joint between his lips and lighting it. “Speaking of. How was she today?” he asks Callum, who turns a deep shade of red.
“Fine,” he mumbles, settling back on the couch.
“Just fine?” Kieran asks with an ounce of protectiveness leaking into his tone.
Callum snorts and rolls his eyes. “She wasn’t expecting me. I had to force her into my car, and even then…”
“She bitched the whole way?” I gripe, earning a smack to the back of my head.
“Bitch and her do not belong in the same sentence. Have some respect,” Rad says with a frown as I nurse the pulsating pain in the back of my head.
“She was fine,” Callum continues with a stronger voice. “I took her home, and we hung out with her mom for a little while. Then, I took her to the bar for work.”
“She works too goddamn hard,” Kieran mumbles in awe.
I couldn’t agree more. River works herself to the bone day in and day out, looking increasingly more exhausted as the days go on. Sprinkle school she’s putting herself through without help from anyone around her, and she’s killing herself for a better future. Seeing such a young person balance so many things in life is odd. Not only does she work two jobs, but she goes to school and somehow cares for her mother in the process. My heart aches at how much she does for everyone else but never seems to take time for herself. River really does deserve better than four assholes who started by using her for her last name and wanting a better future for themselves. Fuck. How did we get down this fucked up rabbit hole? Guilt gnaws away at my insides, churning my stomach.
“Does she have a car?” I ask, looking around the room as they shake their heads.
“If she had a car, then we wouldn't be able to drive her around or force her to come over,” Rad gripes like a psychopath.
“Not when we’re around,” Kieran says in agreement. “If she has one, we can fix it as slowly as possible.”
Callum snorts. “I’ll keep taking her anywhere she wants to go,” he mumbles with satisfaction, pride puffing out his chest.
I shake my head at their obsessive tendencies. Jesus. I may have rogue thoughts about fucking her into oblivion, but I’m no caveman.
“Then she doesn't walk alone anymore,” I declare, earning nods of approval.
“We're her road to safety!” Rad whoops, throwing his fist in the air.
I sigh when our phones ding, indicating the only other person in our group chat needs us. Anticipation roars through my veins when I dig my phone out of my pocket. My heart rate skyrockets when the words flash across the screen, and I jump to my feet like the others.
River
Fuck. I need your help. Can you meet me at the bar?
Rad
What is it? That fucker again? I’ll rip the skin from his dick, fry it, and shove it down his throat.
I throw him a look, eyeing the cold fury passing over his face. There’s something there he hasn’t told us. Sure, Bradley is the biggest waste of space in the universe. But Rad’s expression says there’s more to River’s story that we don’t know about. Kieran may not have caught on, but I sure have.
River
Wow, ever the romantic. But no… I… you know what? Never mind. I can handle this.
Kieran
Nice try, River Blue. But we’re already in the car and on our way. We’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.
She thought she could dismiss us with a few words. Yeah, that shit doesn’t fly. Before we know it, we’re in the damn car, flying down the streets of Central City until we pull into the parking lot behind the raging bar. Music spills from every orifice, and people stumble on the sidewalk.