AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Inwardly, I groan, loathing this evil side of fame. For one split second years ago, I adored the attention and fucking ate it up with a spoon. I fucking encouraged it with a sick grin, craving the attention of the crowds coming to see us. It took me a long time to realize that no one wanted to know the real me. They didn’t want to sit down and have an easy conversation. They wanted my fucking dick. Not conversation. Maybe a baby to claim what’s mine. The fans want the man I portray on stage with the cocky smirk and sexy swagger. They want Asher Montgomery, the guitar player of Whispered Words. And that’s a straight punch to the gut because the Asher on stage and the Asher walking the streets are two very different people.
This is all part of the gig. I know it is. But it’s fucking annoying that I can’t walk out of the house without someone approaching me for pictures and autographs. Some people—no matter their gender—offer themselves up to me on a silver platter. Years ago, I was tempted by their sexy curves and golden smiles. Tempted, being the key word. I’ve kept my dick firmly in my pants since the night I fucked River on that dining room table and came happily in her eager cunt. Believe me, that moment repeatedly sits on a high pedestal in the back of my head. Especially when the loneliness I’ve imposed on myself crushes my soul one squeeze at a time. My heart has only beat for one annoying Little Brat, even after all these years. It’ll never change. No matter how much she loathes us. My heart is hers and has been for the past few years. My guilt has sat with me for too long to settle down, let alone bone another chick.
Politely, I wave as the fans drag their phones out and snap several pictures of me standing before my self-inflicted doom. I try to plaster on a fake smile and greet them with the kindness I don’t currently feel.
“Can we take some selfies?” one girl asks, dragging her friend by the hand and stopping before me. She grins when I nod, and we take several selfies together, huddling in a tight hug. Our smiles light up the photos, despite the annoyance I feel.
“Make sure you tag me on FlashGram,” I say as she squeals again, nodding in agreement, and they walk away without another word.
I blow out a breath, swiping a hand down my face, trying to forget the dread building like a damn storm coming. Lead sits heavy in the pit of my churning stomach when I take a step forward, continuing to tell myself this is a good idea. Yeah, a really good fucking idea to come here. I hang my head, peering around again and avoiding the issue at hand. A war is about to begin in the confines of this apartment building.
There’s absolutely nothing cheerful about the situation I’m walking into. My stomach turns as I walk through the belly of the beast, waving hello to the front desk clerk, and then enter the large elevator. When I hit the top floor button, my fingers tremble from the uncontainable anger rising through my body.
As the elevator whirrs to life, my mind drifts to River’s statements about the restraining orders and abortion check she tore to pieces. Oh, how I wish I were a fly on the wall when River told Gloria to fuck off.
The more I think about the shit Gloria pulled, the more my rage consumes me. Sure, I played an equal part in River’s demise, but I never barred her from speaking to us permanently. I never told her to get rid of our kid. I just…did something almost equally as wrong. I grip my hair at the mounting frustration and heave a breath.
“Get a hold of yourself,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut. “Fuck,” I grunt, lightly tapping my forehead against the mirrored wall.
As the doors slowly slide open, I step out into the luxurious hallway illuminated by the sun leaking through the tall windows. Opulence decorates every inch of the space. From the beautiful chandelier to the gorgeous paintings lining the walls to the expensive luxury apartment I’m about to walk into—number forty-seven—on the top floor of the largest, most expensive apartment complex in East Point. Only the best for dear old Gloria—she can’t seem to hold down a job or take care of her child. Since my father met his fate and got carted off to prison, Kieran’s mother has been our problem. Five years of hell in her presence, why not another minute?
I raise a hesitant fist to the inconspicuous white door, halting mid-knock. Do I really want to look into the eyes of the woman who ruined my life without a second thought? No. I’d rather avoid Gloria as I’ve successfully done for years. Our only interactions are at Christmas when we return to see Camilla and dote on her as she deserves. But Fuck. This is something unavoidable. It’s the only way I’ll get to the bottom of everything, and then I can start repairing it one piece at a time.
Annoyance rises inside me as I pound my fist into the door with much more force than necessary, gleefully watching the hinges shake. On the other side, tiny footfalls flitter through the air, and the door swings open, revealing Gloria still in her red silk pajamas and glazed-over eyes.
“Asher, what brings you here?” Gloria’s face scrunches as her eyes rake up and down my body with a disapproving frown. “I wasn’t expecting you today.” Gloria tilts her head, and a look of concern crosses her twisted-up face.
“We need to talk,” I demand, pushing into her apartment and whirling around. I cross my arms over my chest, glaring in her direction as she softly closes the door.
“Talk? Sure, why don’t you just come on in,” Gloria snaps, furiously storming toward the large kitchen. “Could I interest you in a drink, Asher?”
I run a hand down my face in exasperation and nod. “Sure, a drink would be nice.” And make it fucking stiff—is what I want to say, but I hold my tongue as she flitters into the kitchen, humming angrily about uninvited guests.
“So, what brings you to my neighborhood? I barely see you boys, and we live in the same damn town,” she says with disdain, entering the elegant living room with two coffee cups. I raise a brow, noting the steam wafting from one cup as she gently hands it to me, and the familiar smell of coffee hits my senses, perking me up. Sitting beside me, she cocks her head to the side. “How’s the band going? Any new tours ahead of you?” She sniffs her cup with satisfaction and takes a gulp, only slightly grimacing when she pulls back.
Of course, she wants to know about any new tours to line her own damn pockets. She’s been bleeding Kieran dry since he’s struck it rich, and she loves her walking, talking, piggy bank.
“So, have you heard from my father?” I know the answer as soon as it leaves my lips. Gloria scoffs, taking a sip of her drink, gearing up to defend herself for her actions. But fuck that, I let my tongue take the lead—consequences be damned. “That’s right, you don’t really talk to him after you sent his ass to federal prison, do you?” Not that I fucking care his ass is in prison. I’m glad he’s behind bars where he can’t hurt another soul on the outside. He’s where he belongs, and now, we can protect ourselves and Cami from his wrath.
She blinks several times, and I know I’ve hit the mark on the head. “Well, I had to do what I had to do,” she retorts quickly without missing a beat. “What was I supposed to do when the FBI showed up on my doorstep with evidence? Turn them away? Go to prison with him? I think not.” She sniffs haughty, sticking her nose in the air. “I turned him in like he deserved. It was a win-win for all of us.”
“It might have been a good place for you,” I mutter under my breath, earning a death glare. Perhaps she’s not too drunk yet and still has her wits about her. I need to hold my damn tongue until I can get more information out of her.
“You’ll do well to remember who helped bring you to where you are now. If it wasn’t for my contribution and the car I allowed you to take, you’d be no one,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and lifting her chin. “If it wasn’t for me, then you’d be in prison yourself, and I’d still be stuck in that loathsome little city. This is where we belong, Asher. You’ll do good to remember what we deserve.” What we deserve? Is the alcohol making her dumber as we speak? What the hell kind of high horse shit is she on? “So, who cares if your father is spending the rest of his life in prison for embezzling everything? I sure don’t.”
“Of course, you fucking don’t.” I grind out. “Nothing has changed for you. We still pay your way.” Because of our little sister Cami and that’s it.
“If you’re going to continue to insult me, then I’m going to insist you leave. Is this really what you wanted to talk about?” she growls as multiple veins pop in her forehead and her face flushes.
“No, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Since we’re bringing up the past, let’s have a little discussion.”
“Oh?” she questions with a frown, probably seeing her future being ripped away.
“Yeah, Whispered Words is officially on probation. Apparently, our sales have been down, and now they’re trying to fix us, or we’re fired.” I blink a few times as her expression falls, and deep worry takes over her sadistic eyes, which widen in horror at our new reality.
“What do you mean your sales are down?” she snarls in my direction, acting like it’s all my fault we aren’t performing well.
She wouldn’t be wrong, though. We’ve sucked it up this past year, unable to mesh any fucking more. It was only a matter of time before someone pulled the plug. At least this way, we’re getting a second chance. Her body sits rigidly next to me, fury blazing through her veins.
