Page 30 of Painted Truths

It can't be Alex. He's undoubtedly worked himself into a frenzy over shitting all over this fucking deal.

So, there's only one remaining culprit, and I'm damn sure it's him. Who fucking else, though how he's tracked me down is anyone's guess.

After locating last night's pants on the floor where they've been abandoned, I pull them up over my jocks as I make my way down the stairs and, without bothering to button them closed, I pull open the door to my apartment.

Sure enough, right there, in all his glory, is none other than Caden fucking North.

Of course, it'd be him. Who else?

"It's still dark, man. What the fuck gives?"

Unperturbed by my less than welcoming manner, Cade crosses the distance between us and envelops me in one of his tight hugs. I stand there, hands hanging uselessly by my sides for a moment.

Eventually, I awkwardly pat him on the back before withdrawing to find the big blonde rock star flushed a dark pink with tears glistening in his big blue eyes.

"Jesus, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Henry, my man. Everything is right with the world!" He steps back to puff out his chest, almost comically, if his following words weren't the ultimate tragedy.

"Lay's pregnant!"

Oh shit.

"And we're getting married."

Bigger shit.

An intensely amped up Caden spends the next hour waxing poetic about how being a good dad is his top priority now. About how he can't wait for their family to settle down and “live the dream,” which I've long known is the endgame for him. But Layla?

Really?!

An unusual feeling of nervous anxiety, one I’m wholly unused to feeling, takes over my body. I can’t help myself from going there.

"What about Layla's little habit?"

I don't want to rain on anyone's parade, but I can't help the words from spewing out of my mouth.

I'm happy for him. And even as I tell myself that lie, I can feel my stomach churn as I try to swallow it, knowing it’s utter shit.

I can envision an intense conversation down the line where Nate and I will need to address some hard truths for our best friend. Unfortunately, Cade has always been blind to Layla’s many, many faults and, for some reason, both Nate and I know he’s holding the truth back. I just can’t for the life of me work out what it could be.

He and Layla have known each other pretty much forever. They’d spent time away from each other in their teen years, eventually coming together in the on-again, off-again scenario we are so used to witnessing. Their bond initially came through their mutual love of music, but for Layla, that encompassed the dark underbelly that came with excessive fame.

"She's clean, DeMarco. We've both been seeing drug counsellors. Obviously, I'm just there to support her, and it's going really well." He snorts. "Privately, of course. The label would have a shit fit if any of it went public." We both laugh, though it's without any genuine mirth. Misdirection's manager, Noah Spellman, would rather sell his own kid than have any negative press touch his cash cow.

"She's finding it hard right now, man. This morning sickness is no joke. We're going to throw a huge ass party once she's feeling better, and I need my boys by my side for the big day!"

Clapping him on the shoulder, I smile in response to his contagious delight. "Wouldn't be anywhere else, North!"

A while later, once I've sent him on his merry way, I get myself together quickly, not bothering with catching another lousy hour of kip. Due to my early morning wake up call, I'm ready earlier than anticipated. My driver is waiting curbside and quickly ferries me downtown to the hotel my half-brother has opted to stay in.

Rather than use one of the homes in every major city where DeMarco Holdings has a branch, Alex still refuses to stay anywhere associated with our father. With time, maybe he'll get past it as I did.

Knowing from his increasingly frenzied emails throughout the last twenty-four hours when the deal began to tank that he is in room 1607, I bypass reception and ride the elevator to his floor.

It's still early, but as the business district never sleeps, it takes several stops before I finally reach his floor. I walk briskly down the corridor to his room, and after pounding on his door three or four times, he answers, wearing nothing but his jocks.

His face falls. "Rico!"