Summer (Four Seasons #2) (3 page)

Morgan laughs, rolling over onto her stomach. I work fast to slip on my favorite sandals, and then I run a brush through my hair. The curls are heavy. I’m in need of a serious haircut.

Morgan grabs the brush out of my hand and spanks my ass with it. “Come on, you. Let’s go. And if you steal my man with your perfect ass and your long legs, I’m never going to speak to you again.”
 

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, babe.” We leave the apartment and head out into the night. “I mean, you’ve met my boyfriend, right? Lucas Reid isn’t the type of guy you forget about in a hurry.”

*******

The club is busy, the band rocking the crowd into a frantic mass. Everyone’s hands are swaying in the air, beer and wine spritzers spilling from cracked plastic cups. The soles of my shoes stick to the floor as I move in close behind Morgan, keeping my eyes on the ground. I don’t wanna step on someone’s foot and end up in a bar fight. With my luck, that could easily end up being my Saturday night story.
 

“There.” Morgan reaches back, locking her arm into mine as she tugs me forward. I run into a tall figure—the guy could be a linebacker—who turns to look over his shoulder. The anger on his face fades as he sees me. He winks before turning back around, and I squeeze in beside him, standing on my tiptoes.
 

“Is…is that
Cole
?” I crane over the tops of people’s heads, trying to get a better view. I start to wobble a little—it’s almost impossible to stand on tiptoes in wedges, but I’m panicked. Panicked and ridiculously excited. My heart’s beating too fast. Did Luke follow me back into town? I reach out and brace myself against the big guy next to me. He doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he flashes very white, very straight teeth at me in a broad smile as I shoot him an apologetic grimace of my own. Scanning the stage, I hunt for the other members of D.M.F.
 

Morgan growls next me. “It’s
not
Cole. His name is Jag. He doesn’t even look like Cole.”
 

“
What?
How the hell is that
not
Cole?” On stage, the Cole look-alike’s voice is raspy, like he ate glass for breakfast. It fits the music perfectly. They’re good. Not as good as D.M.F., but still… “The guy looks like he could be Cole’s
clone
. Morgan. It’s creepy.”
 

“That’s twice today you’ve called me creepy.” She tugs me back. I almost stumble, but I manage to right myself before landing on my ass, cursing her under my breath.
 

We share a beer at the bar as the band continues to furiously play. They have a fiery energy that’s setting the crowd alight. I’m having a hard time getting over this Jag guy’s likeness to Luke’s bandmate.

“Do you really think he looks like Cole?” Morgan sticks out her bottom lip again. She does that far too often. Must be a product of being a spoiled only child. I was an only child, but my father was the only one that spoiled me. Odd emotions flow through me over the quick stop along memory lane. My father’s name is clear of the heinous lies that ruined my formative years, but he’s still dead. I miss him now more than I ever have. Everyone says the hollow ache in my chest will get easier with time, until all that remains is the simple joy of the memories he’s left behind. That’s not true, though. He sacrificed himself to save my life. There’s no getting over that. The pain of that knowledge is still as bright now as it was when Chloe Mathers forced me to watch the recording of my father’s death back in Breakwater. It will
never
go away.
 

“He does look like Cole, but I get it,” I say

“Yeah...I just miss him, I guess. He was the best fuck I’ve ever had.”
 

“You…
when did you fuck Cole
?”

Morgan laughs like I’ve just cracked a joke. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Uh,
no
?”

 
She gives me a pitying look. “Ah, honey. That night after they played at Papa Joe’s. I slipped him my number on a coaster when I bought him a drink. I’d barely been home five minutes before my phone was blowing up.” She winks, her eyes misting over. I can tell she’s reliving the experience. “He was barely through the door before I had his clothes off and his dick in my mo—”

“Oh, come
on
.” I pretend to gag.
 

“I’m serious. Sometimes I pretend Jag is Cole. Makes it easier to co—” I raise my hand and cut her off.
 

“No. I’m not hearing this.” I glance up at the clock on the wall behind the bar. It’s nine pm. Thirty more minutes and I am dragging her ass straight out of here.
 

Thirty minutes passes quickly, and surprisingly Morgan leaves without too much of a fight. The streets are busy outside, crowds buzzing in every direction. I glance over at Morgan as she slumps in the passenger seat. She’s staring out the side window, the look on her face a cause for concern,

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, just didn’t realize how obvious the Jag/Cole thing is. There’s something to be said about that.” Her words slur. I have to turn a little to hide the smile that’s spreading across my face. She’ll be crying like a baby by the time we get back to the apartment.
 

The sound of her sniffling gives weight to my prediction. By the time I have the key in the door, she’s bawling. This always happens when she drinks too much. I am pretty sure it should be me who’s crying, but I let her have her moment. I tuck her into my bed and walk into the living room to find my phone. Surely Luke must have responded by now. It’s been six hours since I texted him that I was safe. I pick it up and sigh heavily.

Nothing.
 

Nothing? What the hell?
 

“Where
are
you, Luke?”

THREE

LUKE

I can still smell her on my skin. I need to shower, but I can’t force myself to do it just yet. Watching her leave earlier today almost killed me. She’s all I think about, and it’s starting to consume me in an unhealthy way. I think it is because, in some ways, she’s my savior. She knows about my past and accepts me. Was it my fault that my father abused me in a way that would forever ruin most men? No, but the experience affected me more than I’ve ever wanted to admit. I can’t pretend that my soul isn’t black and tarnished, that my dreams every night aren’t violated by nightmare after nightmare. The truth has been staring me in the face for far too long.

I need to get my shit straight before that darkness leeches out and into the bright moments I share with the most beautiful creature in the world. My broken girl. My sunshine.
 

“Hey, dude, what the fuck? You’re lost in another day dream? I’m telling you now ain’t the fucking time.” Cole pops me in the chest, and I jolt upright. The large leather chairs around the over-sized executive table should leave me intimidated. This place is way classier than any of the meeting rooms we’ve found ourselves in so far, but I can’t seem to stay in the present. I’m forever running to the past or slipping into another reality, where I’m finally clean and good, whole and right. A place where giving Avery the future she deserves seems doable.
 

“I’m sorry. I just...just...Fuck it.” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. It’s far longer than I would normally keep it. It fits the bands style, though Cole’s always bitching about how our appearance and our attitudes need to be in line with who we
want
to be, not who we
are
.
 

“It’s cool, man, but seriously, get your shit together,” he says. “Butler will be here soon and it’s you he’s going to be focusing on. If I could take your talent and that wicked badass voice from you, I would.” He reaches over and ruffles my hair. “I’d even take that mop on your head if it was part of the package.”

“Fuck you.” I smile.
 

“You’ve had enough fucking to last a life time.” Pete laughs, and the other guys snicker along with him.
 

I’m not going to give them fuel. They’ve been riding me over the non-stop sex marathon that took place when Ave got into town. I couldn’t help myself. I hadn’t seen her for more than six weeks, and leaving so soon after she was released from the hospital was almost the end of me. If this were just about me, I would have stayed in New York, but it’s not. The amazing, kickass, mind-blowing sex with my beautiful girl almost makes my unwillingness to check in with her a bigger betrayal. I just don’t know what to say. Not sure there is anything I could respond with that won’t hurt her more than just not responding at all.
 

“Leave him be. She’s hot, and he’s young. I was starting to worry his plumbing wasn’t working,” Pete says.

I flip them off and reach for my phone, staring at her message. Knowing that I should text her back. I just can’t yet. I would spill my heart out on the damn phone and drag her in deeper. She needs to distance herself from me. I hate that I’m even thinking about doing this.

The door opens at the far end of the room and I stifle a sigh, grateful that this Butler guy has a sense of timeliness. I’m not in the mood to be here, and yet I have to be. For Cole, Pete and Paul: the guys I’m giving up the next year of my life for. I’m more than thrilled that four months of that year is over. I’m ready to get back home and figure things out. I’m just hoping that LA doesn’t draw out the nastier parts of me and leave me
more
crippled,
more
diseased and
more
broken more than when I showed up. I’m not too sure that my fate isn’t moving in that direction, but for the present, I tuck that shit away and turn to nod at the three-piece suit that’s walking toward us.
 

“I’m Chad Anders. I’m one of the VPs at MVP.” He smiles and stops beside me, his dark hair slicked back. The rings on his fingers making him look like a drug lord. I have to stifle a grin at his introduction, but Pete lets out a soft chuckle. “Nice to finally get the opportunity to sit down with you guys,” he says. “From what Cole tells me, you’ve been working your asses off on some new music.”

Cole’s been lying through his fucking teeth, we haven’t been working on anything new since we got out here, but I grin at him and nod my head like a good little boy. “I’m Luke Reid.” I extend my hand. “If Cole says so, then it must be true.”

Butler laughs. He makes his way around the room, each of the guys besides Cole standing up to shake the guy’s hand.
 

“You came and saw us play in New York?” Pete asks, his eyes glimmering. I’ve never witnessed a grown ass man regress into six-year-old, meeting his all time hero, but I’m pretty sure this is what it would look like.

“I’ve seen you guys play several times actually.” Butler faces me, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. He’ll not be getting one out of me, though. I’m far too tired.
 

Cole clears his throat, laying the charm on thick. “We’re all here and glad you guys are willing to take a chance on us. You’ll be glad you did.” He nods toward me, and I nod back as if agreeing with his ass-kissing, bullshit lines.
 

“Good. I’m glad everyone’s ready to roll. I’ll be working with your producers as your agent, so we’ll get to know one another quite well.” He lifts a large briefcase to the table and leans over it, pulling out various papers as my eyes shift to the door. Another group of people enter, two men and a blonde woman, none of them over thirty by the looks of things.
 

“Anders. How goes it?” The other suit in the room speaks loudly, his voice deep and filled with authority. Cole mouths, ‘
producers’
at me.

“You must be Reid,” the suit says, extending his hand. I stand and shake, a smile on my mouth as expected.
Polite. Be fucking polite.
My mind is a million miles from this room and yet I know Cole will staple my nuts to a wall later if I fuck this up.
 

“I am. Nice to meet you...?” I raise my eyebrow in hopes that the guy will part with his name.
 

“Jonathan. Jonathan Keepke, and the pleasure is all mine.” He turns and extends his hand, motioning for his other two associates to move forward. “This is Chris Butler and Kristen Parks. Butler will be your new band manager while you’re under contract with MVP. Kristen will be working closely with you guys in the studio.”

“Nice to meet you both.” I shake their hands, nodding. Butler is a little guy, thin and short. He’s balding and smiles in a way that creeps me out, but I ignore it. I try hard to give people the benefit of the doubt. Hasn’t exactly worked out in my favor in the past, but I’m trying. Trying
really
hard not to let the past dictate how I’m going to interact in the here and now.
 

The girl is pretty, her eyes intelligent, her smile bright, but perhaps a little frosty. Ahh. So she’s the hard ass of the group. I’m sure Cole has already fucked her ten ways in his head. I shake her hand and move back, ignoring the way her eyes graze across me. It’s nothing out of the ordinary; this new way of life has desensitized me to all of the women throwing their panties and scribbled numbers in my face. I’m not interested. One girl has my heart and therefore gets access to my body. Too bad I’m not nearly good enough to deserve her.
 

Cole’s voice catches my attention and I smile as everyone else in the room laughs at a joke I must have missed. We sit down and Butler speaks up first. I can’t help but notice Kristen’s gaze on me. She’s not being too subtle about it. Seriously, the only women more ballsy than New Yorkers are LA women.
 

“Well, now that we’ve all met, I have lots of paperwork we’ll need you guys to start signing. Luke, are you the spokesperson for the band?”

I glance at Cole, and the look in my buddy’s eyes is a warning. I ignore it. “Nope. I’m the voice and the sex appeal. Cole’s the man of the hour where business is concerned.”

Cole’s the one who’s orchestrated this whole thing. No point in changing the dynamic of the situation now. He accepts the responsibility and runs with it. Yeah, it may look better for me as the lead singer of the band to take the reins, but I can’t. This isn’t my dream, and it’s not really my deal.