The Lonely Kings: Hard Rock Arrangement Part 23

"Come on!" Carter shouted from the other side of the door. "Stop sucking face, there's only free breakfast for another fifteen minutes!"

I couldn't help but laugh, burying my face in Kent's shoulder as he gave me one more nudge with his hips, promising more, later.

"We'll come back to this," he said.

I could only hope so.

We went to breakfast. Only Carter was eating anything. Sonya and Manny were nursing hangovers with thick black coffee, and I nervously sipped some water. Kent had nothing but a notepad in front of him that he stared at for a few minutes while everyone got settled in. Occasionally he would scrawl something on the paper in what seemed to be an unbreakable code. After about five minutes of this, he put the pen down, tucked the little notepad in his back pocket, and leaned back in his chair.

"Item one," he said. "We are staying in San Diego for at least the next few days."

"Ugh, why?" Sonya asked. "I'm out of clean clothes."

I had no idea why we were staying here, but I felt guilty for being the reason for her forced exile from LA. "I'll wash your clothes," I said quickly. "Don't worry, I'm good with laundry."

Sonya rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you are. But I don't want to stay in San Diego."

"We are staying in San Diego and that's final," Kent said. "And we are going to hold a concert."

That got everyone's attention. "Seriously?" Manny said. "Where? When? How?"

"Wherever will have us," Kent replied. He reached out, grabbed Manny's coffee, and took a sip. There was a serene air about him, though underneath his words an undercurrent of menace flowed. "And," he added, "we will be featuring Jason's band as the opener."

Carter choked on his waffle. "What?" he half-yelled after he managed to get it down his throat. "What the f.u.c.k are you playing at? You can't give him free publicity like that, not after what he's done to Rebecca!"

"I can and I will," Kent told him, cutting off his protests. "This is the only way to get him to go away for good. You want Rebecca to stick around? You have to get rid of this parasite following her. He'll only suck her dry and drag her down with him if he's allowed to walk around thinking he can get away with s.h.i.t like this."

"But isn't that the definition of getting away with s.h.i.t like this?" Sonya asked. "I mean, I'm not an evil mastermind like you or anything, but this seems...counterproductive."

"I can almost a.s.sure you it will not be," Kent replied, which was slightly less than totally rea.s.suring.

But Sonya just shrugged, apparently capitulating. "I don't have to apologize to him, do I?" she asked. "He was a total creep."

A faint smile crossed Kent's face. "No," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, that was all between you and him. I don't want any part of your misanthropic crusade."

Sonya heaved an enormous sigh. "Fine," she said. "I'll do it."

Kent looked to Manny, who shrugged. "Hey," he said, "whatever. If there'll be beer, I'm there."

"There will be beer."

"I'm in."

Kent turned to Carter, who was frowning, but he didn't protest. He only said, "I hope you know what you're doing, man."

"I do," Kent told him. Finally, he turned to me. "Rebecca?" he said.

I swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm in," I said. "I don't know what I'll be doing, but I'm in."

He smiled at me, gentle and almost proud, and I thought I would melt right into the chair.

Then my cell phone rang. Jason's ringtone.

My whole body tensed and a spike of adrenaline went straight through me, causing my heart to skip about twenty beats before picking up a rhythm that would have caused any doctor to frown and go, Hmmm, before casually paging the nurse and bouncing me to the ICU.

My messenger bag was slung over the back of my chair, but I didn't reach for it. I still hadn't spoken to Jason since our break up and I wanted to keep it that way.

Kent had other ideas.

Reaching behind me, he flipped my bag open, dipped his hand inside, and pulled the phone out. "Would you like to answer it, Rebecca?" he asked me.

Um, what the f.u.c.k, h.e.l.l no, I thought. Vigorously I shook my head.

Kent's smile faded a little. "I thought you were all in," he said.

"I am!" I protested. "But I can't talk to Jason. I can't..."

The phone died in Kent's hand. Slowly he put it down on the table before reaching out and placing his hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to," he said. "But do you want to go through the rest of your life afraid to hear someone else's voice?"

It wasn't that... or wasn't just that. I didn't want Jason to talk to me because I was afraid, deep inside, that he would convince me to come back. That he would somehow erase the memory of everything that had happened in the past month and convince me that I was worthless, that no one would love me, that I should go back to him because this thing with Kent couldn't last. This thing with the whole band would never last, and then I'd be out on the streets again, utterly alone. I'd be sorry then...

On the other hand, he was right. I couldn't live my life afraid of hearing Jason's voice, convinced that it had some sort of dark power over me. I didn't want to feel fear every time I got a text. I didn't want to avoid my phone like the plague. I didn't want to kiss Kent and then have the horrible feeling that I was being watched, just through the blinds, from a parking lot, from across a street.

I hesitated for just a moment, then shook my head. "No," I said. "I don't want to be afraid of him. But I don't know if I'm ready."

"I'll help you," Kent said, and for some reason my heart hitched in my chest.

"Would you?" I asked. I felt pathetic, but I couldn't deny that I was afraid, and that Kent's help would be a G.o.dsend.

"I will. But we have to do it this morning. Right now, if you can."

Oh. Right now? As in, right now now? Now I wasn't so sure again...

The hand on my shoulder squeezed. "Come on," Kent said gently. "Let's go upstairs. You can call him from my room."

"Be sure to tell him you're calling from Kent's room," Sonya said suddenly. "Better yet, answer the phone while you're in the middle of f.u.c.king. That always gets guys jealous. Even if they're not hung up on you, they hate to be reminded that someone might be getting laid while they aren't."

Next to her, a slow look of realization dawned on Manny's face. "Hey," he said. "Wait a minute... those times you told me you were out of breath because you were just back from a run..."

Abruptly I stood up. "Now," I said. "I'll do it now."

Kent stood up next to me and took my hand. His fingers laced with mine. "Good," he said. "Let's go."

He picked my phone up while I swung my bag over my shoulder, and then I followed him out of the breakfast area and to the elevators. As we reached the shiny gold doors, my voicemail dinged.

Of course, I thought. Of course he left a message. Another message that I didn't want to listen to, but now I was going to have to.

Face your fears, I told myself as we entered the elevator, but come on, who really wants to face their fears?

That s.h.i.t is scary, man.

We rode up to our floor in silence, and even though Kent's hand was warm on mine, my insides grew colder and colder as we ascended, and by the time we were standing outside Kent's door I had to pull my hand from his and wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to keep myself from shivering.

Kent opened the door of his room and led me inside. To my surprise, he didn't stop in the little living area, but took me back to his bedroom.

Leading me to the bed, he motioned that I should sit down, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was too jumpy. I shook my head. "I'd rather be standing in case I have to jump out the window, thanks."

He gave me a grim smile. "All right," he said. "Are you ready to listen to his message?"

My hands curled into fists. "Maybe," I said.

The look Kent gave me was deadly serious. "I mean this, Rebecca," he said. "You need to fight back against this guy. If you don't fight him, he'll make your life h.e.l.l. More h.e.l.l than he's made it already. He's made you infamous. You can't run from this. You can't run from your face or your name."

"Sure I could," I said. "With enough money."

He looked as though he were about to argue, but then he just shrugged. "Fair enough," he said. "But do you have that money?"

"No," I admitted. All I had was my first two paychecks from this job. It was a lot-more than I'd ever earned in a month before in my life-but it wasn't exactly disappearing money.

"Then you need to face this."

I looked at Kent then-really looked at him. He stood, perfectly at ease, as though nothing in the world ever bothered him, even though I knew from experience that the man could ooze stress from every pore. But the Jason problem? The issues I was having with my stupid past and my stupid decisions catching up with me? They didn't even register with him. If there was something to get upset about, Kent would be radiating rage, and he wasn't.

I licked my lips and nodded. "Okay," I said, unshouldering my bag and dropping it to the floor. "Let's do this."

He put my phone in my hand.

Immediately I felt sick, but I forced myself to slide the home screen up and touch the voicemail icon.

I gave Kent one last glance, then took a deep breath, turned on the speaker, and opened the message.

"Hey babe," Jason said.

It's funny how just a voice can take you back to a place where you don't want to go. Where you told yourself you'd never go again.

My whole body tensed at the sound of Jason's voice, and my breathing picked up. Fight or flight? My palms began to sweat while my hands trembled.

"Just dropping you a line. I know you've seen your picture by now. Just letting you know that I'm still waiting for those introductions I asked for. I'm sure you'd hate for your past to somehow get around, so it's important that you call me soon. Oh yeah, by the way, I won't press charges against that b.i.t.c.h if you holla back. Later."

My stomach lurched. I felt like I was going to throw up. Then warm hands landed on my shoulders, and I looked up into Kent's face. The heat of his body buffeted mine and I closed my eyes. I felt him looming over me. Sheltering me.

Without quite meaning to, I leaned in and Kent's arms stole around me. I pressed my face into his chest, wishing that we could stay here like this.

"I knew it," Kent said above me. His voice rumbled in his chest and against me, spreading through me like a warm little earthquake. "He's still looking for a leg up in the industry. Call him back."

My hands started to shake. "What...what should I say?" I asked him.

"Tell him I'm willing to get him a spot opening for The Lonely Kings."

I inhaled sharply. "Are you really sure about this?" I asked. "You want his band opening for you?"

"I don't want it," Kent told me, "but it will make him go away."

I wasn't so sure of that. But Kent's voice was calm and serene, totally in control of the situation, so I took a deep breath and steadied myself. "All right," I said, "but I need to sit down."

Gently he released me and I turned and sat on his bed. The mattress was firm and inviting, but I couldn't allow myself to give in to it just yet. Kent sat down next to me and his weight pulled me into him. I didn't move away, just leaned against him and forced my shaking fingers to dial Jason's number and turn it on speaker.

That a.s.shole let the phone ring three times before he picked it up, and when he did he sounded so smug I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. "Heeeeeyyyy Rebecca," he said. "So you finally got some time to call me back, eh?"

I swallowed around my dry tongue. "Yeah," I said. "I did. I'm calling because I talked to..." I stole a peek at Kent from the corner of my eye, "...to the band's manager. He said he can get you a spot opening for The Lonely Kings."

I don't think Jason had antic.i.p.ated something like that. I heard the sharp sound of his sudden intake of breath on the other end of the line, and I felt completely helpless. He was getting what he wanted... but Jason didn't just get what he wanted and go away. He took and took and took until you were nothing.

I should have left, I thought. I shouldn't be dragging them into this.

But it was too late for that. At the other end of the line, Jason recovered his composure. "Not bad," he said, though I could detect a tiny quiver of excitement in his voice. "Not bad, Rebecca. When?"

Helplessly I looked at Kent. I had no idea.

Kent nodded at me. "Hang on," I said. "I'll put the manager on."

I held the phone out to Kent, and he leaned in. "h.e.l.lo, sir," he said. "What would you like to speak with me about?"

"Hey, yeah, when's the show?" Jason's excitement was far more palpable speaking with Kent, and I realized that he hadn't quite believed that I really might have contacts. Which meant he would have screwed me over for nothing.

"The show is within the next week," Kent was saying. "The Lonely Kings will be playing a surprise exclusive show soon, here in San Diego. Your band may open for them then. Call the management office to set things up." He rattled off the number. "I'll tell them you'll be calling."

"Great," Jason said. "Appreciate it, man. You guys take care now. I'll see you in a week."

"It goes without saying," Kent cut in, "that after this we will consider the matter settled."

"Yeah, yeah," Jason said. "Of course. No problem. Hand me back to Rebecca."

Kent's face twisted up into a moue of distaste, but he handed the phone back to me.

"Yeah?" I said.

"Hey, babe," he said. "Thanks. I'll be talking to you more later. See ya."

Then he hung up, and Kent and I were alone in his room with the stupid ghosts of my past hanging between us.

I shut my phone off. Then, to make absolutely sure it wouldn't bother me, I dropped it on the floor and nudged it under the bed with my foot.

Next to me, Kent gave a little laugh. "It's not poisonous, you know."

"Feels like it," I said. "I hate thinking that he can intrude between us. It feels gross. Knowing he watched us last night..." I didn't like to think about it, but now my brain was swinging around to the inevitable truth-that my ex had watched me in one of my most vulnerable, open moments, and I wanted to puke into the hotel's well-appointed gunmetal gray trash can. "Ugh. I don't feel so well," I said.