Epilogue - River
Five Years Later
“Hey! I’m on my way, I swear,” I breathe into the phone, shoving my foot into my heel, instantly regretting the uncomfortable shoe.
But you know what? These heels make my legs and ass look amazing. And I’m all for feeling a little more confident in my skin these days. Ever since my baby girl graced me with her sassy appearance, my body has massively changed from the nineteen-year-old girl I was before. I’m a full woman now, blessed with wider hips, stretch marks, and a baby pooch that will never leave, no matter how many sit-ups I do. Whatever. I’m still me and damn proud of who I am.
“Uh-huh,” Seger snorts into the phone. “Just, uh, meet us in the main office, okay? We have something we want to talk to you about.” I raise a brow at his serious tone and peek out the window to the mansion across the street, biting my bottom lip.
“Is this about Break?” I ask, cocking my head. “They did it to themselves. They signed the pledge contract, and they blew it.” I gave them many chances to clean themselves up from the booze, parties, drugs, and debauchery. They promised me in a contract that this was their last chance, and they blew it out of the water last night.
My eyes track the twenty movers across the street in fascination as they start tugging out Break’s equipment, clothes, dishes, and whatever else they moved into the Band House with. The band shamefully watches with their heads hung low, berating Aiden, their lead singer, for his lack of self-control.
Shaking my head, I recall the surprise visit I paid the band last night at their first concert after moving into the Band House across from me. Call me their babysitter or the new manager, but most people call me The Fixer these days. Give me any band, and within six months, they’re either making hits again or hitting the road with their tails tucked. Hence Break, hitting the damn road after breaking their contract with me and West Records.
I knew they were done when I walked into Aiden’s backstage greenroom and witnessed him snorting drugs out of some groupie’s asshole and then fucking her into oblivion. Nothing says tear up my contract more than breaking the rules within the first month of said contract being signed. So, after Aiden finished his little show with a shout, I let him know they were over by clapping my hands from the chair I sat in, watching as he fucked himself and his band over—literally.
Seger snorts again, bringing me back into the conversation. “Yes and no, you fucking ball buster. Shit. I can’t believe that dumbass fucked his whole future up after signing a contract saying he’d give up the drugs, chicks, and improve his music,” Seger growls, most likely ready to punch something or someone.
“Ballbuster? I resent that, asshole. I’m just doing my job, bro. You know, the fixer?” I roll my eyes, searching the kitchen for my missing tiny human. “Fuck, it’s quiet in my house. Listen, we’ll be there in about an…”
“An hour?” Seger quips at my lateness.
Shit. I never used to be late until I had my baby girl, Lyric. Now, I’m a perpetual hot mess, constantly late to everything–even work. Zepp says I’d be late for my funeral, and yeah, I think he’s right.
“No! Not an hour. I have to find Ly, and then we’ll be there! She’s excited to see Maggie again and have a sleepover. So, she should stop hiding now!” I shout louder than necessary, greeted by crickets.
Great. She’s probably slathering lipstick all over her face and giving herself a mustard face mask. Again.
“Yeah, see you at nine. Drive safe and all that fucking good stuff,” Seger says as we say our goodbyes, leaving me with a wary feeling bubbling in my gut, feeling an awful lot like suspicion. My brothers don’t call me into their office very often. Usually, it’s to talk to me about a band or assign me to another group.
“Lyric!” I shout for what seems like the millionth time this morning from the kitchen, tapping my heel with impatience.
I sigh, walking into the family room, and heading toward the little girl standing in front of the large screen TV with her head cocked to the side. Fuck. My heart sinks when one of the men who haunt my nightmares walks across the screen, bombarded by paparazzi.
Her long black locks hang past her shoulders, brushed straight, and her little nose scrunches in disappointment.
“Why is Daddy leaving another hotel with another lady?” she asks with a heavy sigh, turning to look at me with disappointment ringing in her beautiful, mismatched eyes. Big, blue eyes stare up at me, making my heart sink into my ass. A deep brown streak takes up a portion of her right eye, similar to the man currently on the screen.
It’s a kick in the gut to stare at this little human who baked in my belly for nine months and shot out of my vagina with no help from him—them—but turns into an exact replica of the man waltzing around on the celebrity gossip channel with another woman under his arm.
Huge sunglasses sit on Kieran’s face, and a grim expression crosses his lips when he holds up a hand and tells the cameras to fuck off. He’s been out of my life for five years and hasn’t changed much in the looks department. He’s still as delicious as he was years ago with those muscles and dark hair. But fuck. Loathing builds inside me as I stare at the same man who denied my child and walked out of my life without a second glance.
“Mommy. Why? This is…” She scrunches her brows, looking down at her fingers as she counts down the number of women, he’s been spotted within the past two weeks. “The fourth one. Daddy is a ho.”
I choke on my spit, grabbing my throat, wheezing as she stares up at me, blinking like she didn’t say the funniest thing on the planet.
“Ly, where the hell did you hear the word ho? You know what? Never mind. Yeah, your daddy is a ho, but that’s okay. That’s the lifestyle he wanted, right?” I raise a brow when she shrugs, turning to look at him with sadness.
Every other kid in her preschool class has a daddy, everyone but Lyric. She has her four uncles who have managed to step up and wheedle their way into our hearts. But to Lyric, it’s not the same. She wants him—them—in her life. And I can only hold out for so long before she gets some stupid idea about running away at midnight.
I’ve never lied to Lyric and never sugar-coated our situation. One day I knew she’d ask who her father was. So, I gave her the best possible solution—Whispered Words. They helped create her, but only one sperm won the frantic, impossible race. Sometimes though, when I watch her, I think their sperm merged into one massive bundle of cells and created my beautiful Lyric.
Sometimes my heart hurts when she laughs just like Rad or uses her brain just like Callum. The looks she gives me when she’s upset were plucked straight from Asher’s mean-ass scowl. And her attitude? Straight from the man who helped create her.
“We gotta get to mommy’s work,” I say, quickly shutting off the TV and grabbing her hand. Looking down at those gorgeous, mismatched eyes, I sigh, tucking a strand behind her ear. “I know this is weird and hard to know who they are, but…”
Lyric bites her lip, seeming more grown up than any four-year-old I’ve ever known. “It’s okay, Mommy,” she mutters, looking to the ground with resignation.
“Are you ready to go to Aunt Kaycee’s house?” I ask, accomplishing what I set out to do. Long forgotten is her sperm donor’s face on TV. Instead, she beams, jumping on her toes with excitement, filling the house with her squeals.
“Yes!” she squeaks, grinning up at me. “Me and Maggie have lots of stuffs to do. I need to grab Barbie!” Lyric takes off through the living room, down the hall, and into her bedroom on the first floor. “Got her!” she says, marching down the stairs with a bag, Barbie, and a smile.
“Let’s go,” I say, guiding her into my SUV, strapping her into her seat, and kissing her cheek. “It’s you and me against the world, baby.” Looking into her big, blue, mismatched eyes and running my fingers over her plump cheeks with a sigh. The love I’ve never felt slams into me every time I look into her little eyes.
She’s mine. Always and forever.
“Okay, I’m here! And…” Slamming into Zepp and Seger’s office, I hold a hand to my chest, begging for air.
“You’re two minutes late,” Zepp quips from the corner of the large room with a drink in his hand, swirling the ice cubes. “And did you run?” His brows raise when I flip him off.
Righting myself, I waltz into the office and heave myself into a leather chair across from Seger.
I scrunch my nose. “Sorry. Traffic sucks, and Ly was a little trouble this morning,” I grumble, running a hand through my hair. “She flipped on that stupid celebrity gossip channel again and saw Kieran parading himself around with some new chick.” Rolling my eyes, I huff out my frustrations.
“Fucking prick,” Seger gripes from behind the large desk and blows out a nervous breath. “You fucking tell her. I’m not telling her.” He waves his hand, fear washing over his expression.
Zepp’s expression falls, and a slight paleness takes over his face when he nods, straightening his spine.
“What?” I ask, looking between the two of them. Fuck. My heart falls when they nod to each other, doing that weird twin talk without saying a word. “Whatever it is, tell me.”
Zepp grumbles under his breath and sets his drink down. “You have a meeting right now. Follow me,” he says, waving for me to follow and giving me his back.
I’ve gotten to know my brothers more than I would have thought possible over the past five years. We’re best friends, something I never thought I’d have the chance to say. For years I resented them, unknowing what they were going through with their stepmom and our ailing father. Zepp and Seger are the best damn family I could ever ask for. Even when Ode comes to visit, which isn’t as often as I’d like with her two kids and everything, they accept us with open arms. So, I can always tell when they’re walking me into the lion’s den and offering me up on a silver platter.
“If you fucking murder us, remember we have four innocent kids at home who would miss their daddies,” Seger says, holding his hands up placatingly.
“I’m sure Chase and Carter could pick up the pieces after I dig your graves. Are you ever going to explain why I’m going to murder you?” I ask, raising a brow as we walk out of the office and head toward the conference room. “A new band?” I ask, tilting my head.
“You are the fixer, sis. And this fucking band needs your help. They’re falling apart at the fucking seams. And you, dear, beautiful sister, are the only one who can help them,” Seger says with a grin, buttering me up with his words.
Opening the back door, they lead me to the two-way mirror overlooking the conference room from a discreet position.
My heart drops, momentarily stopping inside my chest. I immediately shake my head, slowly backing away as my skin crawls in disgust. “No. No, absolutely not. Fire me for all I care. I won’t fucking do it,” I rasp through the emotions bubbling in my throat after years of repressing them into the deep, dark abyss of my mind.
I can’t. I can’t fucking look through that piece of glass without tears burning the back of my eyes. I knew one day I’d run into them. I work for the company they signed with, but I’ve carefully avoided them for five years at every turn, until now. Here they are after all these years, ready for the damn taking. I promised myself five years ago I’d do everything in my power to bring them down piece by piece. But I’ve grown up since then, loving every aspect of my job and what it brings. I’ve met so many bands and helped them achieve their wildest dreams by picking them up by their bootstraps and forcing them to mend whatever is bringing their potential down. My heart pulls in every different direction. My stomach churns with heavy waves of bile climbing my throat. Lyric flashes through my mind with her curious, puppy dog eyes begging for scraps of knowledge on her fathers.
Fuck.
I can’t face them.
“Wait!” Zepp pleads, grabbing me by the shoulders and halting my retreat. “I know that this is…not what you ever wanted...” Panic spears through his eyes, and he heaves a breath. “They’re failing right now, Riv. They’re going to implode within five months.” He swallows hard when I narrow my assessing eyes. “They need you, the fixer of West Records.”
“Or they’re going to fucking dive off a cliff and never work in this industry ever again. It’s either you fix them, or they’re done,” Seger pipes up, crossing his arms over his chest.
Swallowing hard, I turn on my heel, glaring through the two-way mirror. My heart pumps against my chest at the sight of them sitting around the conference table with their noses in their phones, barely paying attention to one another.
“You want me to fix them?” I rasp, looking between the boys, taking in their appearances.
“Take them under your wing. Have them sign the six-month contract and move them into the Band House. Repair whatever the hell is tearing them apart,” Seger says, standing beside me with furrowed brows.
“But I…” Bringing my fist to my lips, I conceal the quiver taking over my bottom lip.
“You’re their only hope, River,” Zepp says, putting an arm around my shoulders and pulling me affectionately into his side. “They’ll be done for after this.”
“You can fucking do this. Think of Ly. Wouldn’t she want to know her fathers are successful? Wouldn’t she be happy to know the piece of shit is off the gossip station?” Seger raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, knowing he’s right.
“That’s low,” I growl, flicking the tip of his nose.
“Ow,” he gasps, rubbing the spot I hit. “Rude as fuck,” he mutters, turning his attention back to the boys sitting silently around the table.
Their eyes avoid each other’s, and their bodies stiffen when Rad shifts in his chair, giving a bored yawn.
“They hate each other,” I mutter, intently watching their every move. “They…” Fuck. My brothers are right. “Give me their files,” I groan with reluctance.
Seger grins, shoving every file on the band into my hands. “That’s everything. Their numbers. Their profiles. Everything you need to light a fire under their fucking asses and get them back on track.”
I sigh, flipping through the pages quickly and slamming them shut. A devious smile falls across my lips the more I watch them. At the lowest point in my life, they left me with nothing, depriving me of the partners I needed the most. They intentionally left without the knowledge that they could have cleared my name. If only they had understood. If only they had come back and talked it over like adults. Fire brews in my gut. My face hardens, and a new resolve festers in the depths of my mind. I hate them for what they did. But if this is my destiny, then so be it. Maybe they’ll survive the boot camp I put them through. Or perhaps, I’ll discard them within the first month of our contract. If they sign it, that is.
“Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to be nice or understanding. They may have been something to me at one point in my life. But not now. They’ll have to work hard. No passes. And definitely no Lyric.” I raise a brow when my brothers nod in agreement. “I’ll have the movers on standby to collect their shit,” I mumble, sending out an email to the company we always use in cases like this.
“Riv, they’ll have to meet her at some point. You can’t hide her forever. One look at her and him,” Zepp says, gesturing to Kieran as he leans back in the chair, stretching his arms over his head. “They’ll know.”
“A problem for another day,” I gripe, waving my hand. “Now, I’ll go work my magic.” Nerves eat away at me with every step I take in their direction.
Five years ago, Callum saw something he misinterpreted into something more. His tear-filled expression haunts every aspect of my life. For years, I wished I could go back in time and redo that entire thing, starting with not allowing Van into my apartment. Now, I’m faced with the four assholes who served me with multiple restraining orders in Illinois and told me they wanted nothing to do with our child. Thankfully, my beautifully brilliant sister-in-law investigated it a year ago and confirmed it expired within the first year.
“Get it, sis,” Seger mutters, pumping a fist as I turn the knob on the back door and heave a breath.
“If this is a bloodbath, I’m claiming insanity and blaming you two,” I quip, narrowing my eyes at my brothers.
“Fucking worth it,” Seger says, barking out a laugh. “I’ll get the fucking popcorn while you obliterate them into submission.” Promptly, I flip him off, trying to shake the terror from my trembling fingers.
In two point five seconds, I’ll be face to face with the assholes who broke my heart. And I’m supposed to guide them into a better future, eliminating any sort of distraction.
Fat chance.
As my heels click against the hardwood floors of the conference room, my heart beats double time. I’m breathing the same air as them again and standing before the four assholes still glaring down at their phones. They don’t even have enough respect to look up and watch the person entering the room with a fire under her ass and revenge bleeding through her veins.
Once I step up to the long conference table, I set the files down lightly on the gleaming wood and take stock of the men around me. A smirk pulls at my lips as I gain their attention one by one, reveling in the paleness that takes over their faces.
“Hello, boys, my name is River West, and I’m your new band manager. Congratulations,” I say, cocking my head when various emotions cross their pale faces.
Yeah. Revenge will be delightful, slow, and painful. Whispered Words will one-hundred percent get everything that's coming to them—all in due time.
“How about we get started?” I hum.