Page 3 of Wes

I consider their arguments as I lean to grab the glass of orange juice. I take a sip and the refreshing liquid soothes my parched throat. Still, the bitter taste of bad memories lingers in my mouth. I don’t know the members of these rock bands well enough. I know these women and their loyalty, though. Maybe their judgement has been colored by their love for their husbands, or their youth heroes.

My personal experience has been much different than theirs, so I choose to table this subject because it isn’t important for this meeting at all.

I settle the glass back on the table and raise my hands in surrender. “My bad. Guess your rock stars are the exception,” I chuckle, and they laugh.

Ana’s husky voice sounds excited as she claps her hands. “I’ve got an idea for the auction.”

As she details her suggestions for the proceedings, I struggle to focus on the discussions. My mind travels back twelve years, to the moment when my junkie mother signed a paper allowing a twenty-six-year-old billionaire from Silicon Valley to marry her sixteen-year-old daughter. Remembering that crushes my chest like a vise. I take a couple of deep breaths to ease the pressure.

“That’s brilliant!” Moira’s excited voice hurls me back to the sunlit room.

I smile and take another swig of the juice. Since I can’t contribute anything useful to the meeting, I decide to keep my mouth full of something.

I lean back on the chair and my mind wanders again. Against all odds, Ken turned out to be a perfect gentleman, a wonderful husband, and the love of my life. My heart thuds against my ribs, a painful sign of what’s to come, of where my mind is going.

Shaking my head, I try to return to the present, but the darkness from my past always hovers too close. As the shadows creep up around the corners of my mind, I concentrate on my friends’ voices. Instead, I hear cruel taunts and toxic insults from a couple of so-called celebrities as they stole my life away and robbed me of the possibility of having my own kids.

2

WES

From my spot in the center of the couch, arms crossed over my chest and legs stretched out in front of me, I watch Kimberly Peltier. My band’s manager paces the length of said couch in her office, while ripping me a new one. She has braided her curly blonde hair. Now it slashes the air around her with every sharp turn she takes. The tip of the hairdo reaches the middle of her back, swishing against the leather of her black corset as she moves away from me.

“Seriously, Wes. I don’t know what else to do. How can I help you when you don’t help yourself?”

My heart stutters as I struggle to find words to explain my actions to her and come up empty-handed. Despite still being in her early forties, Kim has always served as a kind of proxy mother to all of us in Muse of Darkness. Since we haven’t been exactly choir boys, we keep her plate full. However, this time I fear I might have gone a step–or ten–too far.

“You know Tarmac Records has put up with a ton of shit from this band over the years. They don’t do so out of the goodness of their hearts. They turn a blind eye because they’re making millions off of Muse of Darkness.” She turns around to walk toward me again and keeps talking, “Well, they tolerate it when the shit you guys pull off stink up only your reputation. However, they don’t take kindly to things that might drag their name through the mud.”

I drop my chin to my chest and groan. Although, she makes a great point, we’ve been through the whole fiasco a few times by now. I’m fed up.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I interrupt her, “I’ve said it a thousand times to the execs and to you. I had no idea those two women worked for our record label. I’d never met them before.” I open my eyes again to find Kim towering above me. She’s got both fists digging into the curve of her wide hips, straining the black leather of her pants. Her eyes throw daggers at me as she scowls. I throw my hands in the air in surrender. “What? What did you expect me to do? It’s not like people ask for résumés in the middle of a BDSM party.”

With a heavy sigh, she sinks into the cushion beside me, still holding my gaze. “Okay, I’ll give you that. One option would have beennotto attend an orgy.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “You think I haven’t tried?”

The truth is that I’m tired of searching for something so elusive I’m beginning to think I’ll never find. Lately, that hole in my heart has grown to an unbearable size. Each time I witness Erik or Logan interacting with their ladies, all lovey-dovey, an iron band squeezes my chest to the point I can’t breathe.

The other truth is that I’m not ready to face, nor discuss, that first truth with anyone. So, I just soldier on, throw myself into mindless sex, and pick up the pieces of my heart right afterward.

Kim pats my hand, snapping me out of my daydream. “But did you have to pose for photos wearing your fucking birthday suit?”

“I had a mask on.”

She fumes, her nostrils flaring. “Don’t be cute.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Bile floods my stomach making me queasy. “It’s just that I’m so pissed off at myself for my stupidity. I should’ve paid them off when they blackmailed me.”

She takes a deep breath in and lets air out in a long exhale. The hummingbird tattooed at the top of her left breast bounces up and down, revealed by the low neckline of her floral silk top. Her brown eyes soften as she sizes me up.

She whispers, “Those guys are just college kids looking for an easy way to make a buck. They recognized you, but they had no idea who the women were. Otherwise, they’d have gone straight to Tarmac. In any case, we need to talk next steps now.”

Blood freezes in my veins. I shiver. “The label wants me to eat crow in public, don’t they? Probably do a big mea culpa, a couple of photo ops?”

She thrums her fingers on the cushion between us. “They want you to make the best of the auction for the fundraiser for Hidden Scars.”

“Phew, that’s going to be a breeze.” I plop against the couch with a heavy sigh of relief, stretching my arms out along its back. “You know how much a love helping out those ladies, always have.”

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