Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) (11 page)

For now, only her brothers know that we’re dating. Gabe and Chris wouldn’t understand and both will get on my case. She’s too young; I’m just starting and shit. None of that matters. In the end, we’ll always be together—forever. She makes life perfect; closing my eyes, I picture my girl. Those enticing, deep green eyes that always give me the one thing I crave the most from her. Love. As I stroke each key, the music AJ and I composed together comes alive, like our love. Our songs bring together the best parts of the two of us. Except, shit, one of the songs we came up with sucked. I hate the lyrics she came up with; they’re direct and to the point.

Sleepless night

Missing you every day

You told me it’s just for some time

But I can’t help think that this is it

[Chorus]

It’s time to let our love bloom

Let everyone know

Stop living between the lines

Days go by that I only have a photograph of you

Babe, let our love shine

Each time you leave I think I lost something

In a day or two you’ll call

But nothing will feel the same

When’s the last time we spoke

Your tobacco scent will be gone and my heart will hurt again . . .

The shit is good and it’ll sell like candy during Halloween, but I know what she means and what she wants. As much as I adore her, things can’t be out in the open. She might not believe me, but what I feel for her is real and not being with her hurts me, too. While I lie awake, I crave having her in my arms. Leaving her side kills me, but we’re both pursuing our dreams and we can’t jeopardize our futures because we want to be together. My heart hurts after yesterday, yet I have so much energy inside me. Visiting AJ in Austin always revives me, gives me some new perspective and after this visit, I have four new songs. The last ones I needed to record my next album.

Right after I dropped her off I called Chris and he agreed to meet me at his studio in Seattle so we can start working. He said that he’d drive. Hopefully, he will be late, because I have to head back to the hotel and change. Paranoia is in the studio recording their next album. Archer, the lead singer, and I shared a joint in the upstairs patio. I fucked up. One of those fucking rules that Chris has for Decker Records is that no musician can step inside the building under the influence of alcohol or drugs; or ingest them on the property.

“You smell like pot,” I hear a voice say and slam my hands on the keys. Fuck. I forgot that MJ and JC now live in Seattle. “Dad’s going to kick you out of the studio. The rules apply to you too.”

I choose to ignore him; maybe he’ll get the fuck out of this room.

No such luck, as he walks closer to the piano. “That’s AJ’s.”

“More like ours. We compose together sometimes,” I say, wondering why he’s here and why he talked about Chris. My gut hurts, holy shit, is he here already? “Is he here?”

He gives me that typical “he’s going to fuck you up” look, and I know that he will if he sees me. Time to play nice with Jacob.

“Fuck, do me a solid and stall him,” I try to sound friendly, but I’m not sure if I’m hitting the spot. “I have to go back to the hotel, take a shower and change. I hate when he gets touchy about my personal choices.”

“Whatever. You know my sister wouldn’t like it either.”

Well, now he’s fucking with me. AJ is off limits and he has no idea what happens in our relationship. “I never do this shit when my girl’s around.” I give him a warning look. “Now go and entertain him while I leave. See you later, dude.”

Rushing, I grab my guitar case and leave. If either one of his fathers hears that AJ and I have something going on, I fear things will get ugly and I’m not ready for ugly.

As I reach the stairs, though, I hear his loud voice, “Kendrick, are you high?”

“Not exactly,” I respond.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Christian screams. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? That I was born yesterday?” I open my mouth to defend myself but he raises one arm, showing me his palm. “There’s no fucking way I’m going to work with you under these conditions. Head to wherever it is that you’re staying, take a nap, shower, and come back when you’re sober.”

“It was a one-time thing,” I say, thinking of a way to get out of this shit without being a snitch.

“One time?” He laughs. “Your behavior on the road is almost the same. Porter, I have no fucking idea what you think you’re doing, but you have to stop. Alcohol and drugs aren’t your friends. They’re poison. Take it from someone who knows.”

Great, here it comes. The lecture about how he almost died and he lost years of his life because of the shit he messed with. Time and again I tell him that we’re different people. He doesn’t get it, he thinks that one day I’ll end up at the bottom of the pool at a party like him and I won’t be lucky.

His eyes, so much like his daughter’s, stare at me for a few moments and he shakes his head. “You might be my foster child, but this behavior won’t fly at the label.” Hurray, there’s no lecture coming up, only a brief warning. “As I said, go sober up and come back with a better disposition.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I can go somewhere else with my music, but I don’t because he’s like my father, after all. One of the only two adults who have given a shit about me. Without a word, I salute him and leave the studio. Later today I’ll come back in better shape.

When AJ was looking for a college, I suggested she look south. The weather was a factor; I hate cold temperatures. But her parents were my main reason to stay away from the northern states. If I could keep her away from Gabe and Chris, they wouldn’t know that I was dating their daughter. And no one that they knew would ever connect the dots between our relationship and her relationship with the celebrities.

In a few years, I’ll come clean, tell them that I love her and plan to spend the rest of my life with her. Without her I’m nobody, she’s the person that keeps me afloat when I can barely swim in the sea I live in. Coming home is what I cherish the most. At least, I used to. Lately, it’s been a fucking nightmare. She complains about our relationship. The thrill of not telling anyone is being replaced by something else. The constant nagging keeps me away from my own house and my woman.

“I talked to Dad last week,” AJ says. “He wants us to go on vacation and wanted my address to send me my ticket. I think it’s time.”

“AJ, don’t start,” I advise her before this becomes a freaking fight. Today I’m not in the fucking mood and if she continues, I’m leaving for the closest hotel. “They can use your email. They know what an electronic ticket is, darling.”

Fuck, I didn’t just call her the same thing I call the groupies. I massage my forehead with the heel of my hand hoping that the drugs wear off soon. One misstep and my life can crumble down because of one moment of stupidity. This is why I hate when she starts her shit with me, I can’t straighten myself up, and I do stupid shit.

“We’ve been together for so many years,” she pauses; her shoulders slump and I want to know why she’s not sticking to the fucking program. As she says, it’s been many years. She should be used to it by now. “They deserve to know. I hate to lie to them, and I’m harboring a huge secret.”

“This is not the right time,” I claim, coming up with a shitty diversion. “They lie too, don’t they? For all we know, they have never been honest with you.”

That should hit her right where it hurts and distract her from the agenda she wants to push. But instead of flinching or reacting like she usually does, she continues speaking. Damn, what the fuck is wrong with her?

“I know things are . . . strange. We have an unconventional life.”

“You want us to come out of the closet?” I chuckle, as I circle back to her parents fucked up relationship and the fact that they keep it in the closet. Everyone knows that Gabe Colt and Chris Decker are best friends, but if you’re a close friend of the family, you know the truth. They’re a married couple. AJ can’t understand why they keep the façade when same-sex marriage and relationships are common these days.

But when I see her flinch and the sadness in her eyes increases, I apologize. I’m going too fucking far. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit so close to home, baby. I don’t know if we’re ready for that kind of pressure. That might open up questions about your origins and then drag your parents where they aren’t ready to go.”

“This is about us, not my parents, Porter.”

Damn, that strong armor is back and I have to fight her again. If we talk she’ll create chaos where there’s calm. Her parents love me, but I doubt they’ll approve of me if they realize I’m doing their daughter. There’s also the question of my close relationships with my fans, I’d have to avoid them during tours. AJ wouldn’t understand that sex with groupies on tour doesn’t count; they’re . . . groupies. “Can you stop being selfish for once and think about others, AJ?”

“You should stop being selfish, prick.”

That does it, she goes in for the kill, and I don’t have the strength to stay and fight. Instead, I head out. A few weeks of ignoring her will teach her that if she’s not careful she can lose me. Not that she will, but I have to show her that I have the upper hand. To make sure I stick to my guns, I turn off my phone and shove it in my luggage, taking out the other phone. The one I use for everyone else.

“Sir, Miss AJ is not well,” the maid left a voicemail. “The doctor did some testing, but not to worry, she’s at home resting.”

I smoke an entire joint laced with coke before I turn on the phone and call AJ to find out what the fuck happened. If she’s not careful with her health and keeps those glucose levels in check, her parents are going to fly down to Austin. One slip and she’s going to damage my fucking career.

“Hi,” she whispers over the phone.

“I checked my messages; the maid said you were in the hospital?” No, fuck that wasn’t what I wanted to say, it was . . . I couldn’t remember. “You okay?”

“I didn’t go to the hospital, but the doctor came by. My sugar levels were out of whack,” she says, and I sigh with relief because she can fix that easily. “When will you be back?”

Not for a long time, sweetheart, I think but don’t say. Like fuck I’ll go back right now. “Two, three weeks.” I hear a loud huff on the other side and I can feel there’s something that she has to get off of her chest. “I don’t know, why?”

“Nothing . . .” There’s a long pause and I want to hang up, my mind is running wild with this fucking call. What does she really want from me? Break up? No, fuck not that. “I guess . . . I’m pregnant.”

What the fuck? I want to scream at her, this isn’t part of the plan. No fucking way am I going to be a father. Hasn’t she noticed that I’m a fucked up idiot? Of course not, she still thinks I’m an amazing guy. Smart. I can conquer the world according to her. A kid? Her parents are going to castrate me. Fucking hell, I can’t think.

“I can’t do this. Not now.” I slam the phone against the wall, thanking God for unbreakable cases or that piece of shit would be history.

Hanging up doesn’t fix shit; I know that I have to face this soon. Maybe tomorrow, just after I escape from reality. A day, maybe two. A few weeks?