16: FIRED
“Fuck!” I slam my door shut and stalk to the minibar. A generous pour burns its way down my throat. Then another. And another. The shot glass smashes against the wall, and I shove my hands through my hair. Important meeting, my ass. Apparently we’re past the ultimatum stage, straight into the “auditioning a replacement” phase of the band feud.
Thanks for the heads-up. I manage to delete the “you dick” before I send my text to Jacob. The phone rings a second later. I slam my finger on “accept.”
“What the fuck, man? You’re replacing me and didn’t even give me notice?”
“Hang on. What are you talking about?”
“Sylvie fucking Drake is freaking out because her boyfriend is playing the January shows with Holland.”
He’s quiet. Dammit, it’s true!
“The promoters are panicking, Wes. We needed to put their fears to rest and assure them the shows would happen. Of course the spot is still yours if you want it, but you’ve been refusing to talk. What were we supposed to do?”
He’s still a dick. I shouldn’t have deleted that part.
My thoughts are too all over the place to come out.
“You still there? We were going to talk about this at the meeting next week. I’m sorry you found out the way you did.”
“Yeah? Me too,” I hiss.
“Shandor Xodyar is a fantastic musician. He will do the songs justice. He’s been in the industry a long time. He knows the game.”
“Oh, well in that case.”
“All you have to do is sign the contract, Wes. One signature and you’re back on the bus.”
“But not her bus,” I say.
He doesn’t get the joke. “No, she’d have her own, per the contract. But you would—”
“You can tell Holland I wish her and Shandor the best. If I wasn’t going to sign the damn contract before, I’m sure as hell not signing it now.”
∞∞∞
Spence calls. Hannah calls. And finally, Holland. I ignore all three and turn off my phone. I feel like punching someone and decide to take my aggression out on gym equipment. Then my bar, because this is worse than getting kicked out of my parents’ house or watching my first guitar splinter all over a driveway. I can stand betrayal from the people I hate. It’s being broken by those I love that leaves me paralyzed on the couch. There’s no hope for peace by targeting the enemy with my anger this time. No, because the target doesn’t deserve it. My adversary is Holland Drake and that’s all my brain needs to accept that I’m in the wrong. Holland is always on the side of right.
So where does that leave me?
Am I strong, weak, or insane?
I’m not a hypocrite. I also have no idea who the hell I am without Holland.
∞∞∞
I wake with a start to a familiar smell. Flowery, but in a fresh clean way.
“Hannah?”
“Thank goodness! I’m glad you’re here. I was so worried about you. Your phone was going to voicemail. Holland called us and said you had it out with Jacob. She wanted someone to check on you.”
“Yeah.” I close my eyes again. Not nearly enough time has passed since my make-out session with the whisky bottle for this, or any, conversation.
“You’re wasted again.”
“Maybe?”
“Okay, then we’ll talk later. I’m getting you some water.”
I grab her wrist. “Go home, Hannah.”
“Right.” She smirks. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
“I’ll be fine.” That protest was all I had left in the arsenal.
By the time she returns, I’m half-asleep again.
“Here, drink this.” Liquid slips past my lips and cools my stomach.
“You’ve met this Shandor dude, right?”
“Not now, Wes. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
I push myself up. “No, I want to know. What’s he like?”
She shrugs. “Dark hair, mid-twenties. He’s cute.”
I shake my head. “Not girl shit. Is he a decent guy?”
“Seems like it. My family approves of him for Sylvie.”
The Drakes approve of him. If he’s good enough to date one of their daughters…
“He’s worked as a guitar tech and crewmember for a while,” she says.
“So he knows how to take care of people and keep his head out of his ass.”
“I’ve only met him a few times, but he doesn’t seem like the diva-type. He’ll listen to Holland, respect her. He’ll have to if he wants to keep dating Sylvie.”
I try for a smile, but it comes out as a nod.
“It’s pretty late. Slide back,” she says, pushing me against the cushions of the couch.
Now, I do manage a twist of the lips. She stretches out along my body, and I slip an arm around her to secure her to me. She wraps her hand around mine.
“Good night, Wes.”
“Good night, Han.”
∞∞∞
When I wake up, Hannah is out cold. My head is in a vise and my stomach flips through raging waters. The light is so damn bright. The traffic outside deafening. Hangovers suck.
She stirs as I climb over her but sinks back into sleep when I tuck a blanket around her. I study her soft features for a moment, still in disbelief that she’s here. That after everything I’ve put her and her family through, she understands me enough to accept my flaws. How did I miss this growing up? How did I miss her?
Oh right. Holland.
My chest constricts as I study the complicated woman on my couch. It wasn’t Holland who haunted my thoughts last night, even while I tried to erase her with other women. It’s not Holland I’m desperate to protect at this moment or who I was relieved to find in my arms this morning. No, it’s Hannah. Somehow the snarky ex-lawyer has crept into the void I’d given up on.
There’s no Holland anymore when I’m with Hannah Drake. It’s a terrifying thought, and I escape to my bathroom before it comes to life.
∞∞∞
Hannah’s made coffee and looks like she’s showered and cleaned up as well when I venture back to the living area.
“Morning, sunshine,” she says.
My lips curve in an ironic twist. “Morning.” I pour myself a cup of coffee and lean across from her at the island. All she’s missing is a newspaper and she’d be the picture of breakfast leisure.
“So what’s on the agenda for today? Looking at MBA programs?” she asks.
“Huh?”
“Well, now that you’re not a musician, I just assumed you’d get yourself a tie and go work for Daddy.”
“Ha. Actually, I figured I’d follow your career path and watch judge shows for a living.”
“Speaking of that, did you know Judge Stanton is retiring?”
“Isn’t he like a hundred?”
“Well, yeah, but still…”
“Shit, what will you do with your extra half-hour each day?”
“Annoy you. Oh, I know! We can meet up at Hanover Deli on your lunchbreak.”
I raise my brows. “You mean my lunchbreak from this fictitious job at my father’s company I won’t have?”
“I bet he’d hire you.”
“I bet he wouldn’t.”
“I’m willing to be a reference.”
“Awesome, thanks. Hey, aren’t your parents freaking out right now?”
She passes her mug across the counter. “Can you fill this up?” I do while she says, “No, they know I’m here.”
“And they’re okay with that?” I carefully slide the full cup back to her.
“They sent me. Sylvie and I told them what happened.”
“Wait, what?”
She shrugs. “Now that they know you didn’t kidnap me as part of some malicious plan to tear apart my family, they trust you.”
“Even with the Holland thing?”
“Eh, I’m pretty sure they’ve realized you hurt yourself more than anyone else at this point.”
“And she gets clinical on me.”
“It’s called honesty. You should try it.”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t really fit my badass mystique.”
She grins and lets her gaze roam over my body. “Nor does your shirt.”
“You don’t like my shirt?”
“I don’t like any shirt on you.”
Fuck yeah. “Funny, because I love my shirts on you.”