Fallen Angel (2 page)

“Time to get your ass up. Bam Bam is going to be here in thirty minutes and I doubt you want her seeing you like this.” I start to walk out.

“Angel?”

I stop. “Yeah?”

“You’re not going to tell anyone, right?” He’s sitting up, which should be a good sign. But even though his eyes are open, they’re so sunken in and dark, he’s still got that corpse thing going on.

“I already told you I wouldn’t.” Won’t need to. As soon as they get one look at him, they’ll all know anyway. Not that he has to worry about that right this second. With Royce and Hudson out of town for their honeymoon for the next two weeks, we’re not due back in the studio until next month. But that doesn’t mean Ava won’t insist on a family dinner or two between now and then. And it definitely doesn’t mean Bam Bam won’t notice something’s up when she shows up here and sees him looking like this and still wearing his pajama pants.

“What’s Addy coming over here for anyway?” He’s running his hands over his face repeatedly. Maybe it will improve blood circulation and bring some sort of color back to his cheeks. I doubt it though.

“Ava’s sending her by to pick out some stuff for that charity auction she signed us up for. Guess she didn’t like the box I sent over last week.” I shrug. I don’t actually know what was in it. Could have been anything really. I just grabbed the first box out of the storage room and figured if I hadn’t opened it in the five years I’ve lived in this house, I wouldn’t miss anything in it at this point.

“Oh right, the auction. I remember Sammy pulled out some stuff for that.” He groans and falls back into his pillow.

“Hey! What did I say about using that name in this house? We are no longer using it. You can call her a liar. A cheater. A whore, anything that brings up some sort of anger. None of this Sammy shit though. It just makes you whiny and I can’t fucking take that anymore.” After all the hell she put him through, I’m starting to think the man is defective every time he says her name and still gets that glimmer of hope in his eyes. Enough is fucking enough already.

“She’s my wife, Angel. I don’t care if she cheated on me or not. I’m not calling her a fucking whore.” He pelts his pillow at the side of my head. I guess being pissed at me is a step in the right direction.

“She’s been shacked up with the doctor she was banging all last year for over a month. Divorce papers are being written up as we speak. I really don’t think we need to use the term ‘wife’ when we refer to her anymore.” I shake my head. “That’s like, three steps backwards from calling her Sammy. I’m starting to think you don’t know how this whole break up process is supposed to work.”

He scowls. He’s definitely getting fired up. “Oh, right. And I suppose you know all about what it’s like when you end a long term relationship. Tell me, Angel. Have you been with a woman for more than two hours at a time? Ever?”

Damn. We’re aiming low this morning. That’s cool though. At least he’s aiming period. The way we’re going here, he may actually get out of bed and take a shower today. I move toward the door and grab the handle, preparing to walk out.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m a whore. I’d still rather
be
one than marry one.” Then I march into the hall and slam the door behind me. I can hear his feet hit the ground hard as he hurries after me and I reach for the towel and razor I left out on the hall table.

As soon as he steps through the door and sees me, I shove them at his chest until he takes them. “Just take a fucking shower, man. I swear, you’ll feel better.”

For a minute I watch while the anger washes away with the flood of more pain making its way across his face and I think I might lose it if I have to watch him cry again. He’s my brother. One of my best friends. But I can only watch a grown man cry so many times before I have to call in someone with a more sensitive, softer side to take over in the comfort department. And with Royce out of town, that just leaves Ava.

Grasping the bundled up towel tightly to him, Derek finally manages something like a smile and nods. He knows. He gets that this is destroying him. He even understands that he can’t let it. He just hasn’t figured out how to stop it. And I’m not sure I know how to help him with that.

H
alf an hour later and I’m finally pulling up in front of Angel’s house.

Feeling suddenly awkward about showing up here after years of barely speaking to him, and actually going out of my way to keep it that way at last week’s wedding, I have to take several long, deep breaths before I manage to gather up enough nerve to knock on the door.

When it opens, Angel is on the other side, looking annoyingly handsome.

“Eda sent me,” I mumble, and all hope of sounding like a new and improved, and most importantly,
adult
Addison, vanishes in an instant.

“Bam Bam!” He grins that same damn grin that used to make me turn tomato red in middle school and I’m slightly affronted by my own body when I realize it still reacts the exact same way. To make matters worse, I’m sort of frozen in place, leaving me stiff as a board when he reaches out to give me a hug.

“Ha,” I force an awkward laugh. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time.” Mostly because he’s the only one who’s ever called me that.

“I know. It’s been a while.” He steps aside to let me in and by some miracle I manage to move my feet over the threshold and inside without tripping. He continues talking while he closes the door behind me. “Ava kept you so busy at the wedding I didn’t even get close enough to you to say, hi. And then what, before that, last time we saw each other was...?”

“Graduation. You guys all came when Alex and I graduated.” High school. Still not quite the age I want Angel to associate me with, but definitely a step up from the eleven year old I know he must picture every time he looks at me and says Bam Bam.

“That’s right. Damn. That’s three years ago already.” He shakes his head, leading the way through the house. I’ve never actually been here. It’s weird. The only house I’ve ever connected with Angel is his memomma’s house. That place I know inside and out. It was like a second home to all of us growing up. When the band wasn’t practicing in our garage, they were over at Memomma’s house getting fed the otherwise unfamiliar home cooked meal and filling up on freshly squeezed lemonade. Alex and I were too young to be left home alone back then, so Ava had no choice but to bring us along. And we loved it. Loved Memomma.

I crinkle my nose at the sight of Angel’s living room now. It’s cold. And plain. And not at all what I would have pictured.

“What? You don’t like my style?” Apparently he noticed, because he’s stopped and is facing me.

“Um, what style? Have you even moved in yet?” I point at the empty walls. Maybe I’m just so used to being at Ava and Blaise’s place where they are overly fond of paintings and prints, and hanging a wide variety of musical instruments up and calling it décor, but this house is so bare I feel naked for it.

He does a slight double take as if he can’t tell if I’m being serious or fucking with him. “I’ve lived here for five years.”

Now I’m the one who’s feeling punked. “Shut the fuck up! Are you kidding me with this?”

He laughs. “No. But I’m starting to wish I was. Shit. Way to make a man feel inadequate inside his own four walls, Bam Bam.” Playfully, he tugs at my elbow to get me moving again and I have an involuntary thought to not wash that part of my arm for the foreseeable future. Then I remember I’m not some psychotic Finding Nolan fan and abandoning good personal hygiene practices is not an option.

“I’m sure you’re due for it, especially when you consider how many people probably feel inadequate just looking at you.” I hear my words out loud, like a delayed echo of my thoughts, and the heat burns through my cheeks again. I’m sure he doesn’t know I’m referring to myself. I’m sure.

He turns back at me just as he reaches the stairs, one eyebrow arched. “You ever feel that way?”

Maybe I’m not sure. Maybe I just like lying to myself. Of course, it’s usually more effective when no one’s around to call me out for it.

“Um, nooo.” I over emphasize the words dramatically, only selling myself out more. “I was talking about all the men out there, clearly inferior to a rock God such as yourself.” I hope my sarcasm is coming through as strongly as I intend it to. Problem with sarcasm is of course, the better you are at it the less likely it is to be detected. Plus, I kind of believe what I’m saying, so, you know, that’s working against me too.

Meanwhile, Angel just laughs and starts moving up the steps, skipping two at a time because he’s got long-ass legs and never misses an opportunity to get extra exercise. Whether or not he thinks I’m joking, isn’t really clear. He may be laughing
at
me, not at my joke. Regardless, he thinks I’m funny and I’m counting it as a win. It’s all I’ve got at this point.

“So, any idea what sort of stuff Ava wants for this auction?” He’s barely into the hall when he stops at the second door.

“I don’t know. I don’t think her expectations are all that high after the crap you sent over before.” I shake my head at him to convey my disappointment. It’s weird. On the one hand I’m completely comfortable around him because I’ve known him forever, and on the other, one wrong word and I can feel my face going up in flames while my body is strongly swayed to dissipate into the ether. It’s like I’ve got split personalities or something and I’m not in control over either one of them.

“Crap?” He sounds offended. Then he grins. “Why? What was in that box anyway?”

“You didn’t even look before you sent it over?” I slug him in the arm, and the other personality blazes through me at making contact with his bicep. But, the jackass me makes a quicker recovery this time. “Let me assure you, crap was putting it mildly. It was mostly all burnt up stubs of incense - which I’ll have you know, Ava swore up an F5 storm for, some empty water bottles that needed to be recycled, a ratty old t-shirt even your most diehard fan would rather throw up on than wear, and some shoes I’m pretty sure weren’t yours, unless you’ve taken up dressing in drag and managed to shrink your feet by several sizes.” I shrug. “Ava spent thirty seconds or so sifting through your trash and determined it was all shit you left behind in some dressing room at some point.”

He smirks. “You know, I always wonder what happens to that stuff.” Then he finally opens the door and I don’t know whether to laugh or scream. “I wonder how many of these are filled with more of the same.”

“Holy shit, Angel! It’s wall to wall boxes in here.” I step inside the room just to be sure that’s really all there is.

“I know. Room next door looks just like this one.” He chuckles sheepishly. “I don’t like clutter. So when I got the place, I moved all the boxes in here to keep them consolidated. I figured I’d go through them eventually. But once I found all the necessities, I guess I just stopped.”

I can’t even form sentences out loud anymore. My thoughts are too jumbled up, too baffled by the scene before me.

“You’ve had the place for five years? And what? Before that, you still lived out of Memomma’s place when you were in town, right? How did you ever even collect this much shit?” I suddenly get an icky feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasn’t joking so much about most of these being left over dressing room souvenirs. I can handle a few incense sticks, I’m less fond of the idea I might run into more things left behind by his groupies. Shoes are one thing...but I’m guessing that’s not the only article of clothing they take off when they spend time with him alone in a private room.

“I like to shop?” He grimaces. And he’s adorable.

I sigh, because I’m so royally screwed. “Well, I guess I’m going to be in here a while. Any boxes that are off limits?” I’m hoping against all hope he knows where the ones are that house his collection of souvenir thongs. Provided he has such a collection. I’d prefer he didn’t, but it’s Angel. He probably does.

“Um, there’s probably a handful you’re better off not messing with. Unfortunately, I don’t know which ones they are. But, you’ll be able to tell once you open them.” He gives me an encouraging pat on the back. This time there are no flutters. No blazing heat rushing through me. It’s hard to feel either when you’re prepping yourself to face the panty-proof that the man you’ve secretly been in love with for the last decade is a total slut.

“Thanks. That’s super helpful.”

He chuckles. “Not it’s not.”

“It really isn’t.” I start to giggle, too. A silly giggle. The girly kind of giggle. I don’t do that one often. Kind of wish I wasn’t doing it right now. “You know what would be helpful though?”

“Coffee.” He winks. “I’m on it.”

Then he flashes me a full on smile and the flames flare up again. Thankfully, he’s already got his back to me and can no longer see the beet red shade of my face. Nor can he see me staring at his ass. Which I am. Long and unapologetically. And God, that view would be worth getting caught for.

***

“W
hat are you grinning about?”

Shit. I almost forgot Derek was even here. “What are you talking about?” I move around him to get to the pantry. I’m sure I have some coffee floating around in here. Ava makes it a point to keep everyone stocked for when she comes over. She brought her own damn coffee maker into my kitchen as well. Not that I care. I’m just saying, she’d think it was weird if I brought a weight bench over to her house. Not that I would. But, for comparison sake. I like to work out. She likes to drink coffee.

“Dude, you have a shit eating grin from ear to ear. What, some chick send you booby pics or something?”

I don’t usually have a problem with those, but somehow, the mere mention of dirty pics makes my face switch gears into a disgusted scowl. “No.” I find the coffee and move onto the coffeemaker. “And for the record, we’re not twelve. We don’t call them boobies anymore.”

But Derek’s not even listening. “It’s Addy.”

“What’s Addy?” I pop the little filter into place and hit brew. The thing is dummy proof, which I like.

“Your face. It was like that because of Addy. She’s here.” He points at the coffee maker slowly percolating. “You’re making coffee for her, aren’t you!?”