Forty-One - River
My ears bleed with the crowd’s enthusiastic screams as the boys take the stage.
“Hello, Central City!” Kieran shouts through the microphone, heaving a breath.
I won’t mention the way his tight T-shirt clings to his sweaty chest, highlighting his delicious and defined pecs. Or, you know, the way his tight jeans outline the package he’s smuggling. Nope. I won’t mention it at all. My lips are sealed…
“You want more tequila, horndog?” Ode asks, slapping my shoulder with a giggle, knocking me out of my horny thoughts.
My face heats, creeping down my neck. I’m sure I look like Rudolph, the red-faced whore, by now. I grunt, covering my face with my hands.
Again, I blame the tequila.
“Who are you calling horndog?” I ask, pushing my shot glass toward her as the boys continue speaking to the crowd with excitement.
More screams and shouts, chanting their band name over and over again.
“We’re happy to be back where all the magic started!” Rad chimes in, kicking his bass drum with excitement.
“You all are in for a treat tonight. We’ve been working on some new pieces.” Wait, what? I turn on my stool, staring at the man grinning on stage. He sends me a goddamn wink as he saunters around, hyping up the crowd even more. That’s the Kieran I remember.
“They have new music?” Ode asks over the shouting.
I shrug. “I?—”
“You had no idea,” she surmises, pouring me another shot. “Well, here’s to bigger and better things from those dick faces.” She clinks her glass against mine again.
“Bigger and better,” I giggle, letting all my inhibitions go as Kieran belts out the first note of the first song he ever sang under this roof.
Twirling in my chair, nostalgia presses heavily on my chest. The first time I saw Kieran after high school was on that very stage. He sauntered, eating up the attention of their growing fanbase.
Like now.
He eats it up, smiling at them, soaking up their screams. I swivel my eyes toward the door girl sitting in her seat, staring at the men on stage with raw hunger.
Yeah, they’re fucking hot. And fucking mine.
That was the same spot all those years ago. Where I sat and watched with my heart in my throat, begging Kieran to recognize me. Just once. I wanted to hear him call me Blue and kiss me and tell me he missed me.
Dead End is where it all started for us. From the moment I sent that email asking them to play, I sealed my fate. From the frantic fucking against Booker’s desk with an audience behind us. To that moment we walked into the Castle house on the lake in Missouri and left changed people, leaving me with a little present I’d come to love. Never regret.
Our story isn’t a short book. It’s long. Fucking tragic. Filled to the brim with angst and betrayal. It’s four hundred thousand words of our start, our middle, our tumultuous end. Bringing us to the unexpected reunion. The tears, shouts, fights, and finally—our new beginning.
We’ve come full circle.
In the very place that started us. This is the story of Whispered Words and the girl they so desperately loved, forgot, ruined, and pieced back together. Only this time, I’m getting my happy ending.
No matter what.
Fuck. Tequila makes me horny and sappy. I need another goddamn drink before I shed some tears.
“Another,” I rasp, turning back to Ode, who grins, watching my misty eyes with fascination.
“You’ve got it so bad, girl,” she says, leaning in so only I can hear her. “Make them make it count this time. If they fuck up…”
“They won’t.” At least, I hope not.
“No,” she says, filling my shot glass. “They wouldn’t dare fuck it up again. You know why? Because they’ve got it bad, too. Even worse than before.”
I nod in agreement.
Taking another shot, I watch with hearts in my eyes as they continue their set into two more familiar songs. The crowd waves their hands in the air. Phones come out of pockets, recording their free show. People shout their names individually, gaining their smiles.
Kieran huffs breathlessly into the microphone, wiping the rogue beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.
“Central City! You guys are amazing! You enjoying the show?” he shouts, earning yells of approval. “Good! It’s so damn good to be back here!” He grins more, showing off his pearly whites. “You all know this is where we started. Right on this stage.”
“Hell yeah!”
“You’re amazing, Kieran!” that annoying, familiar voice shouts again. I swear if she shows her tits, the new door girl is going to have to walk her out before I beat her eyeballs in.
“Careful, Green Monster,” Leon quips, squeezing my shoulder. “I can kick her out if you want. But this is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to her since she had kids.”
I wrinkle my nose, finally glimpsing Tessa in her short shorts and tube top. She looks the exact same as back in the day. Blonde hair. Pearls. Lean body. And a beautiful snarl twisting her face.
“Someone mated with her?” I snort.
“Jesus, how drunk are you?” Ode asks, passing by with drinks in her hands.
“Little,” I giggle, holding my fingers together.
“Yeah, she has three little spawns running around. She got married to some old, rich prick four years back,” Leon says with a shrug. “Take care of yourself, baby girl. Maybe no more tequila for you.”
“Tequila lets my girl live the damn life she’s craving. Let her drink more so she can go home and get dicked down in the darkness by four hunky rock stars who look like they want to eat her alive,” Ode says, sliding the entire bottle of tequila in my direction. “Have at it, bitch. Drink all the drinks. But don’t regret a damn thing in the morning.”
“No regrets,” I say, lifting the bottle to my mouth and down a mouthful.
“That’s my bitch,” Ode chortles, running off to more patrons.
“River West!” I startle when the sound of my name rings through the entire fucking bar over the speakers.
Oh, no, he didn’t.
“Yeah, you, Pretty Girl,” Rad cuts in with a grin, waggling his long finger at me.
“Make way,” Callum says softly into the microphone, echoing his timid voice through the bar.
The crowd hushes. Their eyes dart around, searching for the person they’re calling. Meanwhile, I’m trying to find a cool new place to hide so they can’t find me.
“Come on, River. Don’t be shy now,” Kieran’s deep voice pulls me to my feet.
“Fucking hell,” I grumble, thrusting my bottle of tequila into the unsuspecting bartender’s hands. “Don’t let anyone drink that.”
“You’re River West,” she blanches, looking me up and down with wide eyes. “You’re a goddamn legend around here.”
Legend. Huh. I kind of like that. I thrust my shoulders back and put my chin in the air. I’d look smooth if I didn’t trip over my damn feet two steps away from my stool. The room spins. It’s either from the copious amounts of tequila I’ve been drinking. Or…it’s the four heated eyes staring at me from the stage. Incinerate me now. Fuck.
Asher holds up a finger, placing his guitar down. “I got her,” he says in a smooth voice, earning a grin from Kieran.
Somewhere along the way, the boys not only mended our relationship, but theirs, too. Maybe it was the extra therapy they’ve been diving into. Or maybe, they’re finally healing something within themselves.
The crowd parts when Asher jumps down, making his way toward me with determination.
“How much tequila have you had, Little Brat?” he murmurs, hoisting me into his arms. My legs instinctively go around his waist, where I tighten them, bringing our centers together.
I squeal, clinging to his neck. “Not enough, Daddy,” I whisper, blowing into his ear as he groans.
“I’ll spank you if you keep that up. I can’t go on stage saluting everyone. They’ll know I have it bad for you.” I shiver at his words, flicking my tongue against his earlobe.
“And do you have it bad for me?”
“So goddamn bad it fucking hurts. Now, stop squirming and be a good brat so we can play you a new song.”
“A new song?” I ask, pulling back to stare into his eyes.
“Just for you,” he says with a smile, stopping right before the stage. “Climb onto the stage, baby.”
I swallow hard, letting go of my anchor, and drunkenly climb onto the stage. Somehow, I fall over my damn feet, straight into Kieran’s waiting arms.
“No more tequila,” he huffs at my flushed face, kissing my nose.
“But tequila—” I’m cut off when he places his lips on mine, stopping my words. Pulling back, a sparkle in his eyes has butterflies flapping and taking flight inside my damn stomach.
Hoots and hollers bring me back to the present after the world had completely disappeared. I swear, in this heightened state of drunkenness, their touches are unraveling every thread inside my body. Inch by inch. They’ll pull and pull until I’m completely raw and naked before them.
“I want you all to meet someone special to us.” Kieran’s eyes don’t drift from mine when the others close in on us.
Four hands touch my flesh. I’m done for. Absolutely fucking unraveled.
“This is the mother of our child,” Rad says with a grin, pulling the microphone in front of his lips. “I know! We’re daddies!” he says with a whoop.
“That’s where we’ve been for the past month,” Kieran says, putting his fingers beneath my chin. “We made a big mistake five years ago in letting this girl go. Something happened that tore us apart.”
“Something that will never happen again,” Asher says, kissing my cheek. “Never fucking ever again.”
“So, this is our official notice,” Rad pipes up. “We’re officially off the market.”
“And committed to one girl only.”
“Two,” Rad corrects. “Our woman and our baby girl.”
Deceased. I swear to fucking hell. I melt into a tiny tequila puddle right there on stage as they take turns kissing my lips after their very public proclamation. Their PR teams are going to have a fucking fit. My brothers will surely hear about this. Not that they’d care. But everyone in the world will now know, Whispered Words is mine.
And I am theirs.
“Here,” Kieran whispers, pointing to a chair Ode drags to the middle of the stage.
“You bitch,” I murmur, sitting my ass down. “Were you in on this?”
“What? Operation distract River with tequila so the boys could plan this epic humiliation. Yes, yes, I was,” she laughs, sticking her tongue out at me. “Don’t worry, though. I did my best friend duties. I’ve thoroughly threatened their balls. For real, this time. I even gave a demonstration. They turned a pretty shade of green.” I snort when she strolls off stage, sneaking looks over her shoulder.
“All right, Central City. We want to play you something new. It’s something we’ve been toying with for the last few weeks of practice.”
I blanch. What? They’ve been writing music right under my nose? And I had no idea. I’ve been too consumed with my own shit that I didn’t notice what they were doing.
“Want to count us in, man?” Kieran asks, looking over his shoulder at Rad, who taps out a softer beat than their normal material.
Asher joins with a quiet, slow guitar riff, reminding me of a lullaby. Callum’s bass pipes in a second later with the same laid-back, softer tune.
You burst out of nowhere
Like a hurricane beating down my door.
Your tears.
Your laughs.
They’re mine forever more.
There’s no looking back, Babe.
Tiny lyrics come from the heart.
Out of nowhere
With no design.
Tiny lyrics seep through our souls.
Ride us a mile high.
The end is nowhere near.
The beginning is somewhere we’ll start.
You see, Babe…
There’s nothing tearing us apart
With lyrics in our veins.
In our walls.
In our fucking songs.
Lyrics is where we’ll stay.
The end is nowhere near.
This is just our beginning.
Becoming crystal clear.
Am I crying? Are those tears pouring down my damn face? No. My damn eyeballs are sweating in front of hundreds of people. Good God. I can’t stop them. Callum reaches down, pulling my face into his neck as I sob my fucking heart out.
I fucking hate tequila.
“Fucking hell, Little Star. My goddamn galaxy,” he whispers, holding me close to his sweaty as-hell body. “I love you,” he murmurs. “To the damn moon and back.”
“I love you, too,” I sob like an idiot. “But I’m never drinking again.” His chuckles vibrate against me as I cling to him.
Kieran stops, breathing heavily into the microphone.
“So?” He eyes the silent crowd as they break out into hysterics, screaming his name. “It’s a work in progress. We’ll keep you posted on how it’s going in the weeks to come when we get back to our roots and start this music thing over.”
When I finally lift my head from Callum’s neck, he stares into my eyes. Gently, his fingers wipe away the makeup, I’m sure I smeared everywhere from my emotional outburst.
Callum’s grin lights up my world. Those gray eyes I could get lost in steal every ounce of oxygen from my lungs.
These boys drown me in the best damn way.
After another round of hot kisses in front of the crowd, I walk off stage, using the back exit to cool down. My thoughts race a million miles a minute as I pace the backstage area, heaving in several breaths.
This is real.
This is fucking happening again. I’m letting them consume every part of me. I’m fucking terrified in the best and worst ways. This could go sour. But as my chest caves in from the chaotic thoughts, I know I’m heading in the right direction with them. More than before. We were right for each other, but the timing was shit. We needed room to grow into the people we are now.
After I gather myself, my feet drag me down the hallway with more tequila on my mind. What? Don’t judge me. I know I swore off alcohol before, but I left my bottle half empty in the arms of a bartender. It’s calling my name. Especially after that song. Those kisses. Those fucking words Kieran belted out. Jesus, I’m a goner.
As I make my way down the darkened hallway, I grunt, running straight into a damn brick wall. “Jesus, sorry,” I grumble, pushing my hair out of my flushed face.
I blink several times. My heart falls into my stomach. And not in the good way.
“Rivey, hey,” he says with that same slimy grin plastered on his face. His eyes take me in from head to toe. Somehow, his hands are on my shoulders, steadying me from falling over. Gently, he squeezes, something brightening in his eyes at my proximity. Fuck. Cold shivers break out through me.
“Van?” I question, wrinkling my nose. “I thought you were in Europe or some shit,” I blurt.
Alarm bells ring in my head for whatever reason when he shifts, shrugging nonchalantly.
“Mom is sick, so I came home for a visit. I saw a post online that Whispered Words was going to be here, so I thought I’d come to see the show. Didn’t expect to see you, Miss California,” he says with a big goofy grin, finally letting go of my shoulders when I bat him away.
An uneasy feeling floats around in my sloshing stomach. It’s either the booze revolting against my stomach, or it’s the creep standing before me.
Not much has changed since I left him all those years ago. Same hair. Same stupid face—as if he could change that. Not to mention that sickening grin I once thought was the best thing on the planet makes my stomach knot. How in the hell did I fall for this jackass when I was a teenager? Was it the thought of dangerous dating?
The last words he ever said to me before he fucked right off have haunted me since the moment he walked out of the record store I used to work at.
“I have every arsenal in my pocket for us to have a better future. You, me, and the baby…”
It’s like I’m back in that record store, listening to him tell me all that bullshit about him going to Europe for an internship. And how delusional he was in thinking that Lyric was his.
“I just wanted to say how sorry I was for all the things I said and did. You know, back then,” he grimaces, obviously still talking as I silently freak out. What else has he said since I’ve drunkenly stared at him with a blank look, lost in my thoughts? “I was a real creep, and I…just never got over you, I guess. I saw everything as an opportunity to get the girl I loved back. But I went about it all wrong. Sorry, I was such a fucking chump.”
Chump doesn’t even begin to describe what I feel for him. “Um… Yeah, sure. Nice to see you, but I’ve got a date with a bottle,” I grumble, shoving past him.
“Nice bumping into you, Rivey,” he says in passing, waving as he walks away from me without fanfare.
“So not nice bumping into you,” I mutter under my breath, watching his every move. He stands at the back of the crowd with no expression lining his face as the guys continue their performance. He doesn’t sway. He doesn’t fucking move. He’s a goddamn statue. Tension lies in the backs of his beady little eyes, raising the tiny hairs all over my body.
“The fuck is Donavan Drake doing here?” Ode asks in alarm, guiding me to the bar by the elbow.
“Being a creep as usual,” I grumble, staring over at the place he stood and startling. “He’s gone,” I say with a shrug, blowing out a breath.
That was a close one. Shit. That’s the last person I ever wanted to come face to face with, especially in this condition. I’m liable to say whatever the hell is on my mind. Like, fuck off, Van. Eat a snake, Van. Or my favorite, drop dead, Van. In fact, I should race over there and say that to him. He distributed our damn sex tape like it was a movie. Fucker.
“I’m going to sue his ass,” I mutter under my breath.
“I haven’t seen that asshole since he left Central City for work. Wherever that was,” she says, shaking her head.
“In Europe, right? Veritas has been tracking his ass since my whole stalker fiasco started.”
Her brows furrow. The color slightly drains from her face at the thought of my stalker. Thank fuck, that dickbag is dead and gone. I no longer have to look over my shoulder, wondering if some sicko is taking pictures of my every move.
“Yeah, I think so for the first year or so. Not sure what he did after that, but he got a job with his company. I think he travels or something. Fuck, I don’t know. As long as he’s not around here,” she says with a shrug, handing me my bottle.
“Thanks,” I say, taking another swig of the burning tequila, drinking the memory of Van away.
He’s here doing his own thing. He can’t hurt me anymore. Not when I’m living for the future. Not the stupid past.
Damn the consequences. I’ll deal with them later. Naked. And freshly fucked. Because any man who writes a song clearly dedicated to me and their daughter deserves a little love between the sheets. A reward, if you will. And then, I’ll get a nice reward.