Skylar
Her mid-length black skirt and white silk blouse are impeccably tailored and pressed. Makeup immaculate. Pink nails both trendy and professional. And there’s not an auburn hair out of place.
I glance down. Those Louboutins are to die for.
But even more impressive than her appearance is that Alexis Gustafson could be in the middle of the world’s biggest scandal, and you’d never know it because the woman never lets anyone see her sweat.
She’s the picture-perfect image of strength and control.
No matter what life throws at her, she always handles it like a boss bitch.
I aspire to be her one day.
I want to ask if she’d be willing to take me on as an assistant—and give me an internship that will hopefully lead to me joining her PR firm—but Josh keeps shutting the idea down because he needs me.
Which is precisely why we’re still together.
I stayed because I thought I could help him.
Now I stay so he doesn’t die.
“So, you guys were just nominated for your second Grammy,” Carmen Daly, the host of Streaming Music Live declares, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“And we’re gonna win that bitch this time,” Phoenix chimes in.
Everyone snickers. Typical Phoenix.
“What were you guys doing when you got the big news?”
Phoenix flashes a sly smile that emphasizes his pretty-boy looks. “Jerking it.”
More laughter.
“Good,” Alexis murmurs under her breath. “Now give us sweet.”
“On the phone with my Grams.” Storm—who despite his big and scary presence really is a teddy bear—looks at the camera. “What up, Grams?”
Alexis nods approvingly.
I can’t help but smile because Storm’s grandmother is one of my absolute favorite people in the world.
She reminds me of Mrs. Landrum—God rest her soul—minus the whole taxidermy thing.
Well, that and it turns out Grams is one heck of a player with a line-up of men at her beck and call…much to her grandson’s dismay.
Josh waggles his eyebrows. “What was I doing…or who?”
Instantly, my smile falls. He wasn’t doing me.
Then again, it’s not like we have sex all that much.
Whenever we do it’s because he promised to stay sober.
But those promises often end up broken.
I’m not stupid, though. My boyfriend is a famous rock star who has tons of girls throwing themselves at him on the regular.
Girls who don’t give a shit if he’s high or not.
“Which brings me to my next question,” Carmen says with a giggle. “Millions of women across the world are dying to know. Who’s single and who’s taken?”
“I don’t fuck and tell,” Storm replies. “Neither do our groupies.”
Something peculiar crosses Phoenix’s expression briefly before he turns to his best friend. “Probably because of the ball gags, you kinky motherfucker.”
Snickers break out and Alexis rubs her temples. “So much for toning down the cussing, boys.”
Alexis is great at her job, but she’d have a better shot at becoming the next president than getting these guys to muzzle their dirty mouths.
A deep flush rises up my neck. Especially one in particular.
Batting her eyelashes, Carmen diverts her attention back to Phoenix.
“What about you, Phoenix? Is there a special girl in your life?”
“More like in his bed,” Josh cuts in.
Tossing those silky dark locks over her shoulder, Carmen regards him. “Speaking of special girls. Rumor has it you’re in a serious relationship with your childhood girlfriend.”
Phoenix playfully ruffles Josh’s hair. “Yeah, he is. And she’s a real sweetheart.”
“You mean dick magnet.”
I inwardly flinch. What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Alexis shoots me a sympathetic look that makes me wish the ground would open up and swallow me. “It could be worse.”
What could be worse than your boyfriend reducing you to nothing more than a dick magnet in front of millions of people?
Memphis laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
A faint blush tints Carmen’s cheeks as she zeros in on him.
I can’t blame her one bit. Memphis has always been ridiculously attractive, but now he’s older—and stronger—given he’s been hitting the gym like his life depends on it. However, the biggest change is that the quiet confidence he once had is no longer kept under wraps.
He walks into every room like he owns it.
And he does, because whether he likes it or not, everyone is drawn to him.
They’re all dying for the chance to dig below his enigmatic surface and get inside his head.
And pants.
“How about you?” She crosses her long legs, no doubt trying to capture his attention. “Are you single or—”
“He’s in a very serious relationship,” Josh butts in. “With his guitar.”
“At least one of us takes this shit seriously,” Memphis grunts.
“I mean, he takes his drinking very seriously,” Storm adds.
Sensing the tension brewing between the brothers, Carmen steers the conversation in a different direction. “I’m sure there will be plenty of that happening. I hear you’re going on tour very soon.”
“Second week of December.” Phoenix grins. “This is our first world tour and our first solo headlining tour, so we’re pumped. It’s gonna be a great time.”
“Hell yeah it is.” Turning to the camera, Josh winks. “And if you come see us, we’ll make sure you come.”
My back teeth meet with a clack.
“Well, some of us will.” Memphis’s lips curl into a callous smirk. “Josh is still trying to figure out how to do that.”
I can’t help but smile…until a sharp familiar pang spreads throughout my chest.
Memphis hasn’t uttered a single word to me in three and a half years.
Not since the day he informed me that what we had meant nothing.
Granted, I was planning on ending things…but I never wanted to hurt him.
I just wanted to make him understand that I didn’t have a choice, because us being together would end up killing Josh.
But he didn’t give me the chance to explain any of that.
Because for him it was just sex.
Once his ride on the worthless school slut was finished…so was he.
“Well, on that note,” Carmen states. “That concludes our interview. Be sure to catch Sharp Objects in a city near you.”
Josh makes a beeline for me. “Baby—”
I put my hand up. “Don’t even.”
Turning, I march toward the closest bathroom.
“Come on.” Huffing, he chases after me. “Don’t be like that.”
I go to slam the door in his face, but he wedges his foot between it and the frame before pushing his way inside.
“It was a compliment.”
I suppose I should take solace in the fact he isn’t insulting my intelligence by feigning oblivion about his lapse in judgment this time, but I’m too livid.
“Telling the world the girl you love is nothing more than a dick magnet isn’t a fucking compliment.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I wasn’t thinking.”
On that we can agree.
“Are you actually sorry? Or are you only saying sorry because I’m pissed?”
Confusion spreads over his face. “Is that a trick question?”
The fact he thinks it is, is the problem.
I cross my arms. “No, Josh. It’s not.”
Appearing defeated, his shoulders drop. “Tell me how to fix this.”
I don’t know what’s worse. His transgressions, or that I always have to be the one to tell him how to fix them.
Unfortunately, there is no rectifying it this time. The interview was live on the internet.
And like they say…the internet is forever.
“Too late. It’s already out there.”
Stepping closer, he takes hold of my arms. “I’ll never do it again.”
Heard that before.
“You always say—”
The sound of his phone ringing cuts me off.
“I swear to God if that’s your dealer—”
“It’s not,” he says while staring at the screen. “It’s the mortgage company.”
Mortgage company? “Why are they calling?”
Avoiding eye contact, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I forgot to pay them.”
Frustration billows through me like a category five hurricane.
A little over a year ago, Josh decided we needed a twelve-million-dollar mansion. And by we? I mean he.
I was more than happy living in the apartment we were in, but Josh wasn’t.
As always, he wanted more, more, more.
I tried telling him taking out a mortgage on such an expensive house was both ridiculous and unnecessary, but he told me that he was a rock star and deserved to live like one.
Now he has a mansion, three Ferraris, a collection of gaudy jewelry with an absurd wardrobe to match, a boat he’s been on once…and a coke habit that is all bleeding him dry.
A terrifying thought hits me.
“Forgot…or can’t?”
“Enough with the trick questions.” Expression pinched, he taps the ignore button. “I’ll handle it.”
“How? How are you going to handle it?”
Josh doesn’t receive a paycheck every two weeks like most people. He gets his money in lump sums.
Lump sums he spends like the world is ending tomorrow.
On top of that, it’s the end of the month. Which means if he’s already behind on a payment, there’s no way he’ll be able to afford the next one.
“Goddammit. Will you get off my fucking back? If you’re so worried, pay it yourself.”
Frustrated, I throw up my hands. “With what money?”
He points a finger in my face. “I’m not dumb, Skylar. I know you still have money left over from selling your aunt’s house.”
He’s right, I do. But given the house was extremely run-down and in need of so many repairs, I didn’t get much for it.
However, it was enough to buy myself a decent car, a nice laptop, and have a little nest egg on the side.
A nest egg that’s dwindling more and more because even though Josh insists he has everything handled, that never seems to include fundamental things like food.
I rub my temples. “How much is the mortgage?”
We don’t share accounts and I have no idea what his finances look like because he doesn’t like me meddling in them. I only find out how bad things are whenever there’s an issue.
“A little over forty grand.”
Clutching my chest, I take several steps back, hoping like hell I misheard him. “You’re kidding, right?”
However, the expression on his face tells me he’s not, and we’re in deep shit.
“We go on tour in a couple weeks. You’ll just have to float us till then.”
How do you float a boat when it’s taking on water faster than you can bail it out?
Damn it.
What other choice do I have? It’s either write the check…or be homeless.
“Fine. I’ll pay it this month, but that’s all I can do.”
Because after that, I’ll have nothing left.
Unless…
“I’m gonna ask Alexis if I can work for her.”
His face hardens. “No, you’re not.”
“We need the money. Me not working is no longer an option.”
And he only has himself to blame. He earns enough money to feed a third-world country, and he wastes it away on stupid crap.
“We’ll be fine,” he assures me. “My next check will take care of everything.”
“That’s what you said about the last one.” I hold his gaze, imploring him to listen to me for once. “I think you should sell the mansion. We can get a one-bedroom apartment and I can ask Alexis if I can wor—”
“No.” Stepping closer, he grips my chin. “You never have to work for anything.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “I promised to always take care of you, and I meant it.”
“But—”
“I screwed up. But trust me, I learned my lesson. It won’t happen again.”
“How do I know that for sure?”
“Because what we have is too important to me to screw up.” Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me to his chest. “I got you, baby girl. Always. I just need you to believe in me—in us—and let me prove it.”
Closing my eyes, I breathe him in. This is the Josh I know.
The one who loves and wants to protect me.
The one who wants to be a better version of himself.
Even though he doesn’t always make the right choices and screws up more often than not. The intent is still there.
And as long as he’s still fighting for a better tomorrow and trying to improve himself…I’ll be here.
“I do believe in you, Josh. But you can’t keep me in the dark about this stuff. We’re supposed to be a team, remember?”
That’s the promise he made when he rose to fame.
That no matter what happened, he’d never lie to me, or make any big decisions for us without consulting me first.
“We are a team.” Seizing my chin, he kisses my lips. “You’re the most important thing in the world to me. I love you so much.”
“You’re important to me—” I stop talking when his mouth moves down, and he starts kissing my neck. “Josh.”
“I don’t want to fight anymore.” Groaning, he gropes my breast. “You’re so fucking hot.”
I press my hand to his chest. “We’re in a bathroom.”
“Who cares?” Before I can stop him, he yanks the top of my shirt down, exposing my lacy bra. “I paid damn good money for these, and you never let me play with them.”
By these, he means my implants.
Right after Vic Doughty—the record executive—cut him his first big check, Josh decided to surprise me by taking me to a plastic surgeon.
He knows I’ve always been insecure about my small boobs, so he offered to take care of the problem.
I happily accepted.
I was so tired of being repulsed by what I saw whenever I looked in the mirror.
Tired of feeling insecure whenever I took off my bra.
Tired of never being good enough.
Cupping his cheek, I hold his gaze. I hate using my body as a bargaining tool, but desperate times call for desperate measures. “You can play with them all you want if you promise you won’t get high tonight.”
Somewhere along the way our relationship turned into less of a choice and more of an obligation.
Because every single day I wage a war against his addiction.
I loathe the days I lose, but I live and breathe for the days I win…because it means it didn’t steal the boy I love.
Not yet, anyway.
Appearing earnest, he places my hand over his heart. “I promise I won’t get high tonight.”
He kisses me again, and this time I don’t stop him…
But the sound of his phone ringing does.
The way his face lights up when we break apart tells me everything I need to know.
“Please,” I plead. “You just promised.”
His stare ping-pongs between me and the phone. “Baby—”
Fearing I’m going to lose the fight, I reach for his zipper. “Do you want me…or drugs?”
It feels like a century goes by before he pockets his phone and utters, “You.”
“Then keep your promise.”
“I will.” Dipping his head, he buries his face in my cleavage. “Fuck, baby.” His hands slither up my skirt. “Tell me you’re mine. All mine.”
Closing my eyes, I give him what he wants. “I’m yours.”
Loving an addict is like being caught in a riptide.
No matter how hard you try, you can’t swim against the current forever.
Eventually, it’s going to pull you under.
All you can do is hope that when it happens you’ll be strong enough to survive it.
I don’t expect people on the outside looking in to understand or respect my choices.
If I had a friend who told me her boyfriend was a drug addict and cheated on her constantly, I’d tell her to dump his ass.
But every night that little boy lies down next to me, and right before he closes his eyes…he whispers he needs me and would die without me.
So, despite the mounting current, I’m trying my damnedest to save him.
Just like he saved me.