Page 117 of Second Sets Omnibus
My eyes widen when an ambulance, a fire truck, and police vehicles surround the parking spot located in front of my apartment. My. Apartment.
With shaky hands, I get my phone from my pocket, scrolling through the multitude of missed messages and calls I received in the last thirty minutes. Bile burns in the back of my throat.
“What the hell?” Rad asks, throwing the passenger door open and opening mine. “Is that?”
My heart sinks into my ass when Ma’s body is wheeled out of the apartment on a stretcher. A paramedic straddles her, pushing into her chest repeatedly as someone holds a bag to her mouth, pumping air into her lungs.
“River!” I turn toward a teary-eyed Ode, covering her mouth with her hand.
“What the hell happened?” I ask in a raspy voice, not processing the scene before my eyes.
“We don’t know yet, baby,” Korrine says, swallowing hard as I lean into her open arms. Her hug settles the anguish beating down on me and the guilt crushing my heart. “We checked on her last night, and she said she had the flu and wanted to be left alone. I went over about an hour ago, and she was barely responsive.” Tears stream down Korrine's face when she pulls away, patting my cheeks with affection. “Follow the ambulance to Central Memorial,” she says, nodding as they close the doorsand take off out of the apartment complex parking lot at a high rate of speed.
Rad immediately jumps into action, holding me in his arms, and guides me back to the car.
“Let’s go to the hospital, Pretty Girl. We’ll see what’s going on,” he says in a small voice.
“Okay,” I say, climbing back into the car, and we head to the hospital, following behind the ambulance.
Kieran slams the Tahoe door,running a hand down his face. Glaring up at my father's office window, he shakes his head and shrugs at me. Maybe that's a good sign that the old bastard is finally loosening the leash of our collars. Pfft. Fat fucking chance. Nigel Montgomery has a knack for being in control. If it isn't his idea, then it's not possible.
Kieran doesn't wait for me, opting to head into the house with his head hung low and his hands in his jeans.
The weekend plays on repeat in my mind. I promised myself the moment we left Central City that I would let whatever happens—happen. It didn't take a genius to know what we would do to pass the time the moment we stepped into a secluded lake house.
My time with River was highly eye-opening and fucking hot. Being deep inside her pussy and feeling the effect I had on her—twice over was invigorating. Swallowing hard, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my damn dick to go back down before I step out and deal with my father. Oh, yeah. That did it.
Just as my hand attempts to open the door, my phone vibrates in my pocket repeatedly. Scrunching my brows, I dig it out of my pocket. Who the hell calls people these days? Especially so late in the evening? Scammers, that's who. Shit. Looking at the number on the screen, it screams scam call. Out of the area, area code. Long number. I roll my eyes, expecting a robot when I answer the phone.
“Yeah?” I ask, blowing out a breath. “Listen, if this is a robot scammer…”
A chuckle greets my ears. “Uh, nah, Man. Not a scammer, I promise. You'll want to hear this. Is this, by chance, Asher Montgomery, Ashton Radcliffe, Kieran Knight, or Callum Rose? This was the phone number we had on the application for the submission.”
Number on the submission? Jesus. Fuck. My fingers tighten around the phone in fear of dropping it as my palms dampen. My heart beats out of my damn chest and falls onto the dash. All the blood in my body swishes in my ears, almost drowning out the voice on the other end.
“Uh, yeah. This is Asher,” I say, swallowing hard.
My back stiffens at attention when I take the phone off my ear and stare at the number again. Only this time, the location of the call sits under the number—East Point Bluff, California. California. Fucking, California. Gasping for breath, I bring the phone back to my ear just in time.
“Fucking awesome, man. I was looking at your submission again for the thousandth time, and I'm blown away. Do you know how many applications we've gone through trying to find such a unique sound? Thousands. And you guys are fucking it,” he says with so much excitement that goosebumps break out my arms.
My entire body locks up. Butterflies blossom in my churning gut, threatening to send my dinner up. Is this happening? Is thisa fucking joke at my expense? Deep breaths, Asher. Deep fucking breaths.
“You… you what? Wait? Is this…”
“Hey, man, I'm Seger West. I'm calling on behalf of West Records. We are pouring through the submissions this week, and I gotta say, Whispered Words has the shit we're looking for. Fuck. You guys were…”
“Not professional, dude. You can't say fuck to potential winners. You'll scare them away with your Seger attitude,” another voice says in the background with a scoff.
“Fuck off, Elf Ears,” Seger grumbles, returning to the phone. “Sorry, man. My brother is…”
“Husband-in-law! I swear you're ashamed of me. It's been how many years now?”
“Shut the fuck up, Elf Ears!” another person growls in the background. “He's in the middle of a phone call. You're worse than Dash when he wants a fucking cookie. Jesus. I have enough kids to wrangle. I don't need you, too.”
Seger sighs heavily, muttering a few colorful words into the phone, and everything dies down behind him.
“Jesus. Sorry. My brothers are helping me with this whole event,” Seger says through a tired breath. “Anyway, you'll get something in the mail with a formal invitation today. We've overnighted everything. But we just wanted to talk to the guys behind the music. Your fans are incredible, too, and your sound… I can't wait to hear you live,” he gushes in a low voice.
