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I began to join everyone for dinner, and although I remained quiet, it was nice to see the banter between Ream, Kite and Crisis. Sometimes, we’d all watch a movie together; Crisis taught me to play Bullshit, a card game where I discovered I excelled since I read peoples’ expressions so well. My brother was my competition as he could easily keep a straight face.
A few times Crisis sat with me out on the porch writing lyrics while I studied. It was a comforting silence, his fingers tapping away on his laptop and the pages flipping on my text book with my highlighter skimming sentences.
Crisis was like breathing in fresh air. The beauty of him was that there were no lies. No mask. He said what everyone else was too polite or afraid to say.
And for some, it may be too much, but for me, with all the lies and shadows that lurked inside me, Crisis had become my anchor to keep me afloat.
I walked up to the driver’s side. “Can I drive?” I had my G license, so I could only drive during the day and a licensed driver had to be in the car with me.
Crisis burst out laughing. “Like hell, Ice. Do you know what kind of car this is? It’s a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS 454 LS6.” I sighed, having heard this before. “Only twenty of these suckers ever made. Twenty. Get in the back.” He lifted the seat so I could crawl in the back where Dana was already sitting and laughing her ass off.
Kite was in the front and looked over his shoulder at me. “He’d give up the band before this car. That tells you something.”
“What about chicks?”
Kite paused. “He already did that.”
My brows drew together as I thought about it. Crisis never talked about chicks and I never saw him with any. Had the scenario with that chick changed his playboy status? I hadn’t heard anything about that.
“What happened with that girl?”
Kite glanced at Crisis who was hopping in the front seat. “Ask him.”
Crisis started the engine. It purred. No, it rumbled and the vibration of the power beneath me was exhilarating. I kind of got why he didn’t want me driving it. I’d probably put my foot on the gas and ram it right into the car parked ahead.
“Ask me what?”
“Haven was asking about the girl,” Kite said.
“What girl?”
Kite shook his head. “You know . . . Tammy.”
“Who’s Tammy?” Dana asked while putting on her seat belt.
That was her name. I didn’t like it.
Crisis hands fisted around the steering wheel. “Nothing is happening. She posts crap on social media, trying to get attention. I’m ignoring it. Our publicist, Jolie, says not to feed into it and the lawyer says don’t respond. I don’t.”
I was getting that social media had a lot of power. People were pretty brave behind the safety of a computer screen. I could tell Crisis was agitated by it though, and when I saw him looking at me in the rear-view mirror, I gave him a reassuring smile. His hands relaxed on the steering wheel and he started chatting about the place we were going to see.
Five minutes later, Crisis pulled up to a stunning building only a few short blocks away from the university and right on Bloor Street in Yorkville, one of the most prestigious areas of Toronto.
“You’re shittin’ me. This building is freakin’ awesome,” Dana said as Kite held the seat up and she climbed out, her gaze following the smoky glass lines of the building. “And look at all the men in suits.”
“Security,” Kite explained. “One of the reasons why we looked here.”
Crisis lifted the seat and held out his hand. I took it and instantly my heart raced. I got out and looked up at the building, to avoid looking at Crisis. “It looks expensive.” It was the first thing I thought of, considering I’d lived in run-down houses all my life. The farm was beautiful but it was an old century home, nothing like this.
“It’s close to your school and Georgie’s coffee shop isn’t far.” Crisis shut his door and kept hold of my hand as we walked inside, which I liked . . . a lot.
“Oh, my God, it has a waterfall. Do you see that, Haven? A waterfall in the lobby.” She ran over and gaped, then dug in her purse and pulled out a coin. “My wish is to live here.” She tossed the coin in. I was betting hers was the only one in there, because it didn’t look like a building many residents had to make wishes.
“Where’s the real estate agent?” I asked as Crisis pressed the button for the elevator. Kite raised his brows and looked at Crisis. “What?”
“Don’t need one.” The elevator doors opened and we all piled in, although piled wouldn’t be the right word as it was huge and mirrored and had this little pale pink loveseat along the back wall.
“Squeee! It’s like Pretty Woman.” Dana sprawled out on the loveseat and Kite snorted like she was crazy, and she was a little, but my friendship with Dana had crept up on me. She never mentioned my few breakdowns and she never put her hand on my shoulder again. “You’re no fun.”
That statement was loaded because Kite probably had more fun than she did, except it was in private. Crisis used a card in a slot then pressed the PH button—penthouse. I was surprised a real estate agent would give him access to the place, but they were pretty famous, and denying Tear Asunder much of anything probably didn’t happen too often.
When the doors opened, I gawked. My mouth actually fell open as we were greeted with marble floors and a wide-open space that looked right through to sixteen-foot windows overlooking the city.
“Holy mother of God,” Dana whispered.
“Come on, princess,” Crisis said. “Let’s see your bedroom.”
“Potential bedroom,” I corrected. Could I do this? Live with Crisis and still keep what we had? He seemed to think so; I’d just need to run more.
