Chapter 4
Sloan
Iwake up to tambourines clanging in my head. Unable to turn them off, I peel my eyes open and discover it’s the shrill sound of my iPhone. Why the fuck did I choose this ringtone?
“What?” I grumble into the phone, rolling over on my couch.
The voice that answers causes last night to crash into me like a derailed subway car slamming into the cement wall of an underground tunnel.
Luke Blackwell was in my kitchen.
Hailey Tomlin’s dead.
“How’s that headache, Alexander?”
“Fuck off, Luke.” I’m in the process of pulling the phone away from my ear to disconnect the call when I hear him shout, “Wait!”
“Thirty seconds, Blackwell.” I pinch the bridge of my nose trying to get the monkeys smashing cymbals together in my head to stop.
“You got shitfaced so fast last night I didn’t have a chance to give you the papers to sign to collect what Hailey left for you.”
“So mail them.”
He exhales into the phone. “You know I have to be present.” At least he has the decency to whisper the last part and adds just enough respect in his voice that it calms my ire, but only slightly.
“Technically the asshole attorney in charge of her estate has to be present, but it seems he’s pawned that job off on you.”
“Sam’s a nice guy and doing me a favor. Did you really want to hear this news from someone who only knew her through legal documents?”
No. But I didn’t want to hear it from the man responsible for her husband’s death either.
Our entire company was called to formation when the higher ups delivered the news that Grant had died. Grant left Luke and I each something in his will and the attorney had to be present when we received our items.
Grant left me one of his dog tags and a note telling me to take care of Hailey and that he loved me.
His dog tag still hangs around my neck along with my own.
The only way we can spend a lifetime together like we’d planned is by the thin chain and metal pendant that rests against my heart.
Although I’d been removed from his chain of command, the three of us continued seeing each other.
It had gotten so serious, we were making plans for what life would look like once I got out.
They knew I wanted to pursue music and we’d made plans for Hailey to live with me while Grant was deployed or gone for training, and she’d stay with him while I was touring.
The rest we were prepared to figure out.
But we never got the chance.
After I was given the dog tag and my note, Luke was handed an envelope and to this day, I don’t know what Grant had to say to Luke but it always makes me jealous and mad as hell that Grant left him anything, let alone his last words.
I tried everything I could think of to get Luke to let me read that letter to no avail.
Add it to the list of reasons I hate Luke’s fucking guts.
“Fine,” I say, returning to the conversation. “But if you want to see me again, you should ask me out properly, like a gentleman.” I can’t help but goad him. Luke is a homophobic piece of shit and his narrow mindset cost me the loves of my life.
“Sloan,” he growls, causing me to smile. Making him uncomfortable just became my main goal in life. It’s been a while since I flirted with a man, but the words roll easily off my tongue.
“I like it when you say my name like that, Major. It really turns me on. Oh, or do you prefer I call you doctor? Which title gets you off faster?”
“Goddamn it, Sloan. Just tell me when I can bring the papers by. Unless you want me to make you drive into D.C. for them?”
It’s not that far, but no, I’d rather not suffer the city if I don’t have to.
“The guys and I have practice at four out at Noah’s place. I’ll send the address. Just come whenever.” Unable to resist, I add, “And I do mean whenever.”
“Fuck you, Sloan.”
“You missed your chance, but I can guarantee it would’ve been the best sex of your life. I fuck even better than I play the guitar. Think about that.”
I chuckle as he hangs up the phone with an exasperated sigh. The euphoria from pissing him off is short-lived when the nausea from too much tequila rises to the surface. I fall back asleep just for my phone to wake me up again an hour later.
I roll off the couch as I answer Noah’s call, deciding it’s time for some Advil and water.
“Sup, Kink?” Our lead singer’s nickname is completely ironic because we’re all pretty certain he only ever has sex missionary style, but life’s a bitch when your last name is Kinkaid and your three best friends are me, Brett Donovan, and Ryan Battle.
“Hey, I just heard from the label. They’re sending the guy who got the position as our new sound engineer over today so don’t be late. And wear pants.”
“When have I ever not worn…oh yeeeahh. That was just that once because I couldn’t resist fucking with Brett after that one chick said my dick was bigger,” I argue.
Once upon a time, Brett and I tag-teamed women in bed.
Brett’s been the only guy I could handle having around during sex anymore and he and I were careful to never touch each other.
Ever since he and Bri got together though, Brett’s cleaned up his act and I’ve been solo with Jen for the last several months.
The sex is good and I trust her completely — which is rare — but it’s still missing something.
Fuck, I miss Grant.
And Hailey.
A thought occurs to me and I make a note to call Luke back.
“Okay, yes. Pants. New sound engineer. Got it.”
Noah and I hang up and I call Luke. Three times in two days is really too much and my migraine is worsening.
“Call to taunt me more, Alexander?”
“No, fuckface. I called to ask when Hailey’s funeral is.”
“Oh.” I hear him clicking away on a keyboard. “She’s being laid to rest in three days. I’ll send the details.”
“Thanks.” I hang up before I do something stupid like ask him if he’s going. If he shows his face there, I’ll break his nose myself.
I shower, get dressed, and make some toast. I barely have time to blink before I have to head to Kink’s.