Page 70 of Cherry Beats

I shook his hand firmly. “He called you to come and get me?”

“This isn’t the worst thing he’s asked me to do, believe me. Can’t say I mind. I miss the little fucker when he’s off travelling around the world. I’m a needy uncle, what can I say?”

“Well, thank you,” I said softly. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something about Dexter that made me feel safe and calm when I should have been feeling anything but that with a stranger in the middle of the night.

He laughed and gave me a swift nod before he checked his mirrors and pulled back out onto the road, switching between looking out through the windshield and over at me. He looked like he wanted to either make a statement or ask me a question.

“Spit it out,” I eventually sighed.

Dexter laughed roughly, his head tilting back as he held the wheel loosely. “Intuitive. I like it.”

“It’s not difficult to see when someone’s biting their tongue so hard. Clamp it any harder, and blood will start gushing out. I’ll warn you, though, I have a weak stomach when it comes to blood. Don’t blame me if I faint, or worse, end up barfing in your very fancy car.”

“Presley said you were fiery. It’s good. He needs someone with balls to keep him on the straight and narrow in a world that’s trying to make him bend.”

I let his words wash over me as I stared at him, not saying anything in response. The car bobbed over the pothole-ridden streets, making me sway from side to side ever so slightly as I waited for him to go on.

“You seen him lately?” he asked abruptly, taking a quick glance my way.

“The other day.”

“And how did he seem? Any different to you?”

“He seemed… tired.”

“Yeah.” Dexter sighed, nodding his agreement. “Yeah, the kid seems tired.”

I shifted in my seat, turning to face him. “Are you worried about him?”

“Always.”

“I mean, are you worried about him and how he’s coping on the road? With the band? With the fame?”

Dexter took another glance at me, the streetlights flashing over his face as we travelled down a long, straight road. “It’s a lot for any man to take. I was worried—until he told me about you.”

“Me?”

He looked back out through the windshield. “Just watch him, Tess. See what you think. And watch all those creepy men in suits who hover around him. He’s a proud kid. He’s gone through a lot of shit in his life. Shit, he probably hasn’t even told anyone, not even those friends he’s had his whole life. There’s a reason he started drumming. There’s a reason he needed to hit things to survive. There’s a reason music was the thing to save his life.” With one last glance my way, he spoke his last words on the matter. “He needs more people to remind him to remember that his life is good and that he matters—more people like you.”

Chapter Nineteen

The lift pinged, making me blink as we arrived at the top floor. Dex typed in a code, scanned a card through some kind of swiping device, and then the doors opened up slowly. We were greeted by two beefy security guards who looked like WWE’s version of the Men in Black. Their heads were bigger than my torso, and the muscles that strained against their black suits must have been squealing to be set free.

“Gents,” Dexter said, grabbing my hand and walking out into the corridor without a care in the world.

“Uncle Dex.” They both greeted him in their deep, baritone voices.

We arrived outside two double doors at the end of the hall. I could already hear the music playing behind them. It was loud, inconsiderate, and heavy—hard rock music that demanded you respected it. The floors were practically shaking, and the atmosphere was bursting through the cracks of the door.

“Don’t be sick,” Dexter whispered jovially before he pressed a number into a little security pad on the wall. Something clicked or unlocked, and he swung a door open, revealing a world I never could have imagined.

There were women everywhere. Some were wearing clothes, while others were walking around the hot hotel room in nothing more than their bikinis. Every single one of them was absolutely stunning. The kind of women you’d expect to see on the cover ofPlayboyin one corner, while the more sophisticatedVoguestyle beauties were sitting around a table smoking, blowing puffs of smoke into the air with their legs crossed and their eyes narrowed. A few men were scattered around, but most of them were either smoking something that was tripping them out, snorting something that didn’t belong up their noses, or looking down at their phones.

As soon as they saw me, they looked my way—all eyes on me.

“You should breathe before you turn the same colour as your hair,” Dexter whispered in my ear.

“I’m fine,” I croaked back, glancing around at all the wolf eyes that were now staring right at me. “Not freaked out. Not at all feeling awkward knowing everyone is looking at me.”

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