Rebel Rockstar (25 page)

S
he isn’t fucking answering
her phone.

I don’t know why I bother calling. She isn’t going to see me. I want to see her! Fucking. Christ. I even used my first paycheck to go all the way there, tell her I love her, let her know how much she means to me. That if she wanted, when I got back from this tour, we could get married. I’d take her with me. Anywhere.

She doesn’t want to see me.

I throw my weight into the punch, slamming my fist against the punching bag. Almost did it the wrong way… Could’ve broken my hand. I don’t give a fuck. I hit it again. Then again. Then a third time, throwing all my rage and frustration into the bag until my body is so fucking exhausted I can barely stand anymore.

And then I keep going.

Fight.

Fuck.

Sleep.

Repeat.

Just another day in the life of River Xavier.

But I hadn’t just fucked Faith. She meant so much more than that to me. Did she think otherwise? How could she think she meant anything else?

I grit my teeth so hard my lower lip gets caught in it. I ignore the bleeding, punching the bag again. Maybe I can trick myself into thinking the blows will solve my problems.

They won’t.

I’m looking at the punching bag in front of me, but I know I threw my gym pack somewhere in a corner earlier. My phone’s in it. Her number’s engraved in my head.

I should call her again.

Don’t fucking do it, Xavier. Don’t be a dumbass.

“Cool it, Xavier, you don’t need to be that nervous about your first fight,” Coach Daniels comes up behind me, smacking my back a few times for good measure. “You’ll do great.”

That isn’t it at all. But if Coach needs something to make me feel better about, something to keep him from asking fucking annoying personal questions, so be it.

“Doubt it,” I grunt. The words are fake. The frustration behind them isn’t.

Faith Collins.

She isn’t gonna be Faith Xavier.

Goddamnit!

I hit the bag again.

“Hey,” Coach Daniels grabs my fist as I rear back to hit the bag again, and I swear – if I didn’t have to work with him, I’d probably hit him, too. But he’s older and experienced, and he’d block it anyway. He has taught me everything I know. And he’s my friend, and it wouldn’t be right. I breathe heavily. “You sure this is about your first match?”

“Yeah.”
Keep it short, River. You’re not going to be able to hide this if you get chatty
. “I’m good. Ready to kick ass.” I throw Coach my trademark grin, telling him I am okay.

“Well, all right, then,” he lifts his hand as if he is going to pat my back again, but thinks better of it.

Good. I can’t take that kind of comfort right now. I just want Faith in my arms, but I’d probably fuck the hell out of her. I am pissed.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Coach throws me my proper gloves. The ones I’m using now are for training only. Too worn. I’d hurt myself if I fought against someone with these on. Not that it mattered.

I don’t say anything about it, though. Just curtly nod. Strip my hands of the worn gloves – check – and throw the new ones on. Check. Fit in all the boxes, the perfect River Xavier. The bad boy. Rising from my fighting position on the training mat, I stretch.

Then, without a word, I walk out.

* * *

C
rowds have never made
me nervous. I smirk at the people surrounding the ring, trying to hide the indifference I feel, compared to how my heart pounds when I think about Faith. I wonder if I’m hiding it well at all. Or if they even give a shit.

A girl who looks to be a few years older than I am winks at me from the front row. Her hair is short and blonde. The opposite of my Faith. I don’t care if Faith considers herself mine anymore, or if she ever did. She
is
still mine.

I wink back at the chick, turning my attention from specific faces to the whole crowd and giving a wave to everyone as I pass.

No one seems particularly impressed.

I’m sure as hell not.

But maybe the crowd just seems empty because that is the way I feel. Looking around, there are signs, some cheering on the man I am fighting against, and some rooting for me – the newcomer.

I don’t give a fuck. I make my way through the crowd and up the ramp, swinging myself into the ring and waiting for my opponent to turn to face me.

He calls himself “the Devil.” Like I care. I size him up, getting a rush in my veins as I realize I could beat this guy, make a bitch out of him. We are both about the same height and he might be a little more muscular than I am, but nothing can hold a candle to my rage.

I feel my jaw tighten. I raise my fists to guard my face, waiting – wanting, so goddamn bad – to beat the shit out of this guy.

But first, the pleasantries.

The rules.

“The fight goes for three rounds, or until someone gets a knockout. If at any time you think you can’t take it, you can tap ou—“

Coach has run this through with me thousands of times. I am ready. I was born ready. I move my left leg slightly forward so I get the advantage, defending myself, attacking this bastard.

I know it won’t solve my problems.

But it
will
make me feel better.

Coach tries catching my attention from outside the ring, but I don’t even look at him. “Bettin’ on you, kid!” he yells. I nod curtly.

I am a jackass, not an asshole.

“Ready? Start.”

This douche can’t even get the drop on me before I slam my fist into his gut. There is no point in hits for play. I am going all out. Jab, cross. Jab, jab. Straight hit. The guy gasps as I rain blow upon blow on his flesh. I don’t stop.

Round two is harder.

He grabs me by the side, throwing me to the mat. Trying to get me out of the ring. My elbow slams into his stomach, freeing myself from him. I grab his neck with my hands and slam him down like he’d done me seconds earlier, bashing his head to the ground as he tries to free himself. He can’t. Doesn’t.

For a while.

I let him stand. Not to be nice, but because I want to watch this guy struggle to defend himself. To see his skin move as I hit him.

Jab. Cross, cross. Hit.

He taps out before round three. My breath is coming hard. I am almost growling as the ref takes my arm and raises it to the sky, like I had with Faith that day at the concert, announcing my win. The crowd erupts in cheers. So they don’t give a shit about who won. Just that someone did. Would the girls running at me now do the same for that sap I just beat?

Faith wouldn’t. She also wouldn’t accept a call from me if I threw another at her, so why bother?

Can’t think about that.

I have to get over her. And I know just how to do that.

A long-legged hottie with obviously fake red hair looks at me, pressing her arms together over her chair so I can see her tits. I eye them, looking at her from where she’s sitting in the front row. Then I call her over to the ring, helping her through the ropes as she stands up.

“Hey, doll,” I say, my eyes roaming her body. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Madeline.” She looks at my biceps, moving so I can see her ample rack even better than I could before. I don’t know how that could even be considered covered.

She is just a body.

“Maddy, babe.” I grab one of her sleeves, pulling it down a little so her tits almost fall out for the crowd’s pleasure. “You want to have some fun?”

She giggles. She does, of course. I don’t even know why I’m asking. Of course she does.

I feel my cock get stiff at the thought of her beneath me. Purely physical. Yeah, sex would be the way to get over Faith. This girl will just be the first.

The first of many.

I
’m pretending
to be angry at him. But I’m a different person than I was three years ago. He hurt me then. But now I have to pretend it’s all fine and perfect, like he never hurt me in the first place.

For Dawn.

That’s what I’d named her. She was a new chapter, a new day. My baby. And this is what is best for her. Maybe not for me, but for Dawn.

He can’t get close like that again.

“Congratulations,” he mutters.

He never used to mutter. That’s how I know he doesn’t mean it.

I lied. I’m pissed. How could he come back now, when everything’s going so well? When I needed him so much before? Didn’t he know how much I needed him before?

I doubt it.

I purse my lips in a thin line like I used to when I was a kid, when all I had to worry about was stories and whether or not I’d make it through the school day. River had meant so much to me. He changed my life, forever.

Sometimes I wonder if he ruined it.

No…

Shut up, Faith. You helped him as an old friend, but that was it. He means nothing to you now. Less than nothing. In fact, you’re fucking pissed at him.

I move to the coffee table I grabbed the remote from, and pick a mug up. The coffee in it is lukewarm but I still bring it to my lips. I’d do anything right now for an excuse not to talk to him. I focus on the dregs of coffee at the bottom of the mug as opposed to the wounded look on his face.

Jason never looks at me like that. Jason is emotional, but he’d never do anything to hurt me. Unlike River.

“Whatever,” I mumble into my drink, hearing it echo back to me. I doubt River hears anything. I set the mug down, staring at him heatedly. It probably looks like hate to him. Good. “I have to go get Dawn.”

“Dawn?” he questions, stupidly.

We’ve both changed over the years. He must have gotten slower.

I roll my eyes at him, making sure he can see it. “My daughter, stupid. She has preschool to be getting to.”

Never mind that he and I met in preschool. The same thing had better not happen to Dawn. We’ll be moving more than my family, though. We’ve always been too stable, at least for my taste. But maybe I felt that way because I got so close to River…

I
shake my head
. “Stay where you are, and don’t break anything.” I resist the urge to throw something at him again, half because I actually don’t want him there and half because his lips aren’t crushing theirs to mine again. “And don’t you dare swear around my daughter.”

He looks like he is about to say something, his mouth opening in a half-want. I’m not sure if he is going to touch me or defend himself. It makes me want to slap him. I turn on my heel, no longer the awkward, shy girl I once was. That Faith might be buried somewhere deep inside of me, but around River?

That Faith isn’t going to come out.

I leave him standing dumbfounded, and it kills the little bit of me inside that screams for me to come back to him.

Dawn should be out of her room by now. Sometimes, she struggles to get out of bed, though, or to put on her clothes. She is three, going on four. Maybe I should still be helping her. I love Dawn so much, but every time I see her, I think of River… Even more than I usually do.

And then it hits me like I’m the the one that got slapped.

He still doesn’t know he is her father. Would he recognize himself in her like I do?

I move my hand to the door, about to open it. It yawns open before I can even touch it, my little bundle of joy crashing through it. She’s wearing one of her favorite dresses, a frilly pink thing Sabrina got for her as a joke. No wonder Sabrina had been weird about River earlier, especially when he’d called and I’d answered it, going to get him.

“
M
ommy
,” a little voice interrupts.

I feel sick even thinking about this. I drop to my knees in an instant, pulling her lovely curls out of her face and bringing her in for a hug.

She needs a father. I can’t be thinking about River, but I know that by the way the skin on my body is prickling up in response… He’s looking at us. Dawn’s room is only just down the hallway. River could easily see us from the living room, although, with how small Dawn is, he might not be able to see her that well.

“
D
id you sleep well
, darling?” I ask my daughter affectionately. “No bad dreams tonight, I hope?”

“Nope!” she grins and I can’t help but smile at her. She’s the little ray of sunshine in every day. She makes everything so much better. “Do we have a visitor, mommy?”

My expression clouds over.

I
wrap
my arms around her, bringing her to my chest. I’ll protect her from anything bad in the world, anything that could make her sad. I got together with Jason just after she was born. She has to think he’s her father. What else could she think?

“Are you ready to go to school, baby?” I kiss my little girl’s forehead, ignoring her previous question.

She nods vigorously, and we stand, and I knew it. I knew River was staring at us. His eyes are

deep and beautiful and… Full of sorrow. My heart catches in my throat. I need to say something…

“Where are my two favorite girls?” A deep voice booms from the hallway.

Jason walks through the foyer, throwing his arms around me as he stares down my first love. I lean into him, but it’s just an act.

Am I Jason’s? Or am I River’s?

I shouldn’t question this. Jason put that ring on my finger. He’s been taking care of me. I sigh wistfully.

“You okay?” Jason asks me a question, but it’s all for show. He doesn’t want an answer. He presses his lips against mine softly, focusing more on River in the background than on me. He looks from River, to me, and then back again.

He remembers him. He must. “What is he doing here?”

“Nothing.” My words come too quick, defensive. I hope no one notices. “I was just walking him out.”

It’s no lie.

I leave Dawn with Jason and grab River’s forearm, digging my nails into his flesh. I drag him towards the floor and he follows, dumbfounded. It hurts that he does. I half expected him to dig his heels into the floor and demand I answer his questions.

I push him outside, into the hallway. “Never call me again, River,” I tell him coldly. I deliver the blow, but it breaks my own heart instead of his. Surely, it shouldn’t be this way…

“But, Faith,” he manages to get out. “Your little girl.”

“What?” I bark.

“Am I… Is she…” He stares at me hopefully, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, desperate for an answer.

“Don’t fucking fool yourself, River Xavier,” I say coldly, and I can see how badly I’ve hurt him.

“What’s her name?” he wants to know.

I hesitate. But he deserves to know.

“Dawn,” I whisper, before slamming the door in his face.

* * *

S
abrina clicks
her seatbelt in the passenger seat as she slams the door closed. “I can’t believe you had River over.”

“It was your idea!” I take the car out of park. She’s been talking about River nonstop like we’re in eleventh grade again. She had lots to say when she wanted to know about our date that night; she had even more to say when I was expecting. That I should tell him. Go to him. Get a little house by the sea and start a family with him. I did none of it, and I say little now.

“Don’t you want to see him, Faith? Be with him again? You were obsessed with him for years,” Sabrina continues, ignoring the way my hands clutch at the wheel. “You had his baby. You want him. Admit it.”

I stop the car at a red light, gritting my teeth. I wonder if he’s still a boxer, if he still takes out his rage on punching bags when he’s upset. I’d love nothing more than to do that right now, maybe with him behind me, guiding my punches so I don’t hurt myself.

But then… The other half of me wants to use him as the bag.

“I’m getting married, Sabrina.” This needs to be the end of the conversation. Sabrina is my best friend. All I need to do is tell her that this is the end of it and she’ll quit mentioning it… Probably.

But I don’t.

“Yeah, which, if you think about it,” Sabrina kept talking, her glossy lips moving faster than most people imagined her mind could, “is a fuckin’ horrible idea.”

Movement.

Waiting for the pedestrians to cross the street.

The car starts again.

We’re almost there.

“We’re trying on dresses for a rehearsal, Sabrina! This is the end of it. Enough!” My voice rises and I feel bad that I yelled at my friend, but I need to draw a line somewhere, don’t I? Before I start considering the possibilities…

“Look. Dresses are nice and all, but River is better. Think about it. I’m not backing down from this, Faith, just consider it. You always preferred him to Jason anyway.”

She opens the glove compartment, looking for a piece of paper to doodle on and a pen to do the doodling with, maybe to imitate that same sketch she made three years ago.

I grab the paper from her, crumpling it in my hands before she could even start. Looking to both sides of the car with a silent prayer that we don’t get in a car accident, I find a parking space and pull in.

Throwing the door open, I get out with as much sass as my bittersweet heart can muster. “Get out. We’re here.”

And before Sabrina can say anything more, I add my final words, giving her a warning look.

“And help me find something pretty.”