Stand (Black Addiction Book 3) (14 page)

“Hey no one is holding a gun to his head.” She shrugged taking a healthy sniff of the sugar, cream and banana laden air.

The pie was delicious.

And of course I called to thank him for his incredibly thoughtful—and completely unnecessary—gift.

“Jules is considering replacing me with you as her best friend. Fair warning, not sure you’re ready for that kind of crazy.”

Max’s chuckle played in my ear. “The pie was strategic. That transaction locks up our agreement. You don’t come on Saturday night to my gig, I can sue you for breach of contract.”

“I would have come anyway.” I laughed, no intention of backing out having even entered my mind.

“Well you have to now, my new best friend will insist, I’m sure.” I heard the smile in his voice, loving the easy conversation.

“Hey, I haven’t been replaced just yet.” I scoffed, barely able to contain my giggles. “Steady on.”

“It’s only Tuesday, sweetheart. You’re history.” He laughed before saying goodbye.

Wednesday came with no surprise coffee, dinner or pie and I hate to admit, but I was disappointed. Not because I wanted something—well other than to talk to him. So when I finally said goodnight and crawled into bed, I did so with an irrational sense of sadness. Which was pathetic.

Thursday morning came and so did my determination to not be a loser. He lived a few floors above me goddamn it, if I wanted to see or talk to him all I had to do was take an elevator. I also found it strange that in the past week I hadn’t seen him around. What was even alarming was how much I desperately wanted to.

I checked my phone trying to rationalize if I had time before work—I could be quick, even if I woke him to say hello—when I saw there had been a text left through the night. The stupid thing had fallen under my bed and I hadn’t heard the alert, my heart pounding as I opened the unread message.

Hey Beth,

Working on new material so spending a lot of time at Angie’s. Everyone says Hi. I’d hoped to stop by and see you tonight but it was super late when I got home. Figured I’d let you sleep. Maybe dinner Friday? Well call it a take two, hopefully we won’t run into anymore of your ex boyfriends, I don’t think my body can take it. Tell my BFF I said hey. Talk soon. xx

I smiled at the phone—because I was an idiot—just re reading the words over and over again. The warm feeling washed over me as I typed my response.

Max,

Weds was ordinary. We had staff meeting so my brain was fried when I got home. Would have loved to have seen you, you should have woken me. Dinner sounds great, no more ex boyfriends and I’m never eating another strawberry again. I’m still traumatized. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to go with your BFF? She’s free Friday, just so you know.

I ignored the judgmental digital display of my alarm clock telling me I needed to hurry up and get ready for work as I hit send. Being a few minutes late would be worth it.

Sadly my phone didn’t ping back a reply—the telepathic wishing obviously failing—so I got my ass in gear and went to work, my mood infinitely better.

“Miss Hart,” one on my students raised her hand.

“Yes, Monica?” I nodded my head waiting for her to go on.

English always got the most amount of questions. For a language that we speak every day there sure were a lot of exceptions, trying to explain it to kids—well, we’d get there eventually.

“Why is Miss Cornell at the door?” Monica pointed to the glass window of our classroom door, a very amused Jules waving from the outside.

“Um. Please excuse me, class.” I rushed over to the door, expecting to hear someone had either died or she’d finally been busted for unauthorized playing with the instruments in the band room. It was probably the instruments.

“What’s up,” I whispered, my body hovering just outside the doorway. “Why aren’t you in class?”

“They had gym, get out here.” She pulled me out into the corridor, her face grinning so wide it might split apart.

My students leaned forward in their chairs trying to catch a word or two, the excitement of the interruption too much for many of them as they started to giggle.

“Everyone, sit down and read over what we were just learning.” I spun around letting them know the show was over, and with their synchronized groans they went back to their books.

“Start talking.” I nodded, knowing we probably had five minutes before the classroom descended into anarchy.

“Max sent flowers.” She pointed to the colorful box on the floor at her feet, five stunning pink gerberas standing proudly from the box. “Aren’t they beautiful?” She reached down and picked the box up bringing them to eye height.

“Why did he send them here?” I looked around for a card. “And why do you have them?”

“Because he sent them to me.” She hugged the box proudly; the card I’d been searching for had been in her hand the whole time.

“What?” I tried to keep my voice lowered while trying to mentally calculate how long we’d been out in the hall. Three minutes? Four? And why did Jules get flowers and not me? Not that I was jealous. Okay, maybe just a little, which was crazy because there would never be anything between them. Okay so it’s probably been five minutes. Crap.

“Hey, I’m just doing as instructed.” She smiled smugly. “Apparently you need to check your phone. I can take your class.”

I had no time to ask further questions, the rumbles from the class were starting to grow so we both walked and explained that Miss Cornell would be filling in for a few minutes while I took care of an emergency. And with my phone in my hand, I made my walk back out of my room and down the corridor pushing open the main doors. After all, the last thing I need was the faculty assuming I was sending a tweet or replying to a snap chat, I liked being gainfully employed thank you very much.

It was only once I was outside that I dared to look at my phone, the little envelope icon notifying me I had one unread message. Except I didn’t get that far, my eyes catching on Max’s Corvette parked across the street, the owner of the car relaxed as he leaned against the driver’s side door, amused as he looked at me.

“Max,” I didn’t bother to read the message instead crossing to where he was parked, avoiding traffic so I didn’t end up someone’s hood ornament in the process. “What are you doing here?” I didn’t hesitate and threw my arms around him in a hug.

“I wanted to give you these.” He pulled out a colorful box similar to the one he’d sent Jules, except instead of flowers there were a dozen chocolate dipped strawberries sticking out with the tissue paper. “I was concerned about your trauma.” He grinned.

“You have a death wish.” I bumped his shoulder and accepted the box, my vow to never eat another strawberry in serious doubt. “And don’t you think bringing them here is going to make it worse.”

“Nope, I checked with a therapist.” He pumped my shoulder back. “I have it on good authority that you can minimize the anxiety by . . .” He pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket. “Presenting the stimuli in a relaxed setting with positive reinforcement.”

“A therapist, huh?” I smiled; shaking my head he’d gone to this much trouble. “Thank you, they are beautiful.”

“No problem. Just make sure you eat them before Friday.” He winked, a beautiful smile lighting up his face.

“Consider it done. And Jules loved her flowers, I think she is probably wanting to marry you now.” I couldn’t help adding.

“Well as much as I like Jules, the flowers were strategic.” He playfully bit his lip. “I knew you’d probably need someone to cover for you and she’d make sure you’d get out of class.”

“And who would cover for her?” I asked. Unless he was either psychic or a stalker there is no way for him to have known she would have been available.

“I knew she’d work it out.” He nodded, his assessment correct. She would have faked a fire drill if she were really under the pump. “See, I’m really
not
that nice a guy.”

Oh nothing had ever been further from the truth.

“I should go.” I looked between him, the box of strawberries and the school knowing I had run out of time. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Of course, see you Friday
and
Saturday.” He didn’t make a move to hug me goodbye, his body staying glued to his car. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Okay bye.” I gave him a wave before crossing back over the road. My heart was beating a little faster and not from the quick jog across the asphalt in heels, that’s for sure.

It was going to be a long couple of days.

Holy. Mother. Of. God.

If I’d had a teacher like that I would have definitely stayed in school.

I’d never had the pleasure—and I am talking
pleasure
—of seeing her in her work clothes. And it really had been a crying fucking shame.

The white floral shirt she was wearing was made of some kind of flimsy material that, if I concentrated hard enough, I could see the outline of her bra.

Which would have been worth the aneurysm it may have caused.

But the show didn’t end there; the do-you-see-me-don’t-you-see me top was tucked neatly into a tight black skirt that went all the way to her knees, hugging her body like its life depended on it.

Well done.

The black patent-leather pumps were a nice touch too, adding not only a little height but also some rock and roll, which suited me just fine. And her beautiful long brown hair was pulled back off her face, the makeup kept minimal.

Hard not to imagine yanking up that skirt and putting my hands all over her ass. It’s something I had lots of time to ponder as her hips Shakira-ed their way across the road as she headed back to class.

The week had been busy. And that was putting it mildly. The band had decided it was time to start writing and feeling out some new material, a new album not far in our future. And while I loved the process, being holed up for sometimes twelve to fifteen hours a day sometimes sucked donkey’s balls.

And given I was seriously committed to showing her we could be friends without the horizontal hula, it was pissing me off I hadn’t had time to see her. My work hours not syncing with hers forced me to get creative.

Which is what I did.

Her morning text gave me some extra inspiration.

And I was up to the challenge.

I didn’t have to look too far.

Troy Harris.

While he boasted a successful career as the cymbal smasher for international rock band Power Station, he was also part owner of the label we were signed to. Add into the fact we’d known him and his buddies for a bunch of years, I was fairly comfortable calling him and asking to speak to his wife, Megs, who happened to be a psychologist. A few questions here and with her good sense of humor, I had all the information and technical terms I needed. It was either in poor taste or fucking hilarious, and I was happy to roll the dice on the chance it might make her smile.

Thankfully it had paid off and had given me an opportunity to see her, considering I was probably going to be working well into the night.

I was a good boy too, keeping my ass planted against my car with my hands behaving themselves. But I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking my epic restraint was going to last forever. Or that my actions were purely platonic.

Rearranging my dick in my pants—another reason my ass hadn’t been in a hurry to move—I got back into my car and headed to my
office
. The place I’d been clock-punching the past few days—Angie’s.

The session was solid. It was the usual back and forth with Rus being a smart-ass and Joey being tired. Angie was somewhere in between, tossing guitar picks at us whenever we got off track, which was a lot, my head not in the game.

“Hey, we’re going to need to push back tomorrow/later today. Kenzie is recording all day, so I’ll have Layla until six.” Joey put down his sticks, the long ass day finally over. It had to be sometime after one in the morning, maybe two?

“Yeah, that’s not going to work for me.” I unplugged my bass from the amp and gave my hand a stretch. “I’ve got plans tomorrow.”

Plans I had been waiting all week for in fact, and last thing I wanted to do was call Beth and cancel. Let’s mark that under not going to happen.

“Later would suit me better too, actually.” Angie rolled up the cord from her mic, siding with Joey’s request. “Means I’ll be able to spend some time with Zack before bedtime. Can you change your plans?”

“Nope, not really.” I shook my head, wondering why the fuck we had to flip the script now. We’d been doing late nights all week, Friday was supposed to be our short day. Start at ten, wrap by five, which would give me time to get home shower, change and head out my door. Beth had even agreed to let me drive her, which gave me bonus time.

“Dude, what’s so important.” Rusty weighed in, not understanding my hard-on for keeping to our original schedule. Not that I blamed him, I usually was happy to go with the flow. Not on this occasion.

“I’m having dinner with Beth.” No point denying; they were going to find out anyway, and if there was going to be any mouthing off about I’d rather get it over with.

“Didn’t you guys decide you weren’t dating? Or did I miss something.” Angie stopped rolling leads and gave me the look. Amazing how without any additional words she could say, “but seriously, asshole.” It sure was a talent.

“We’re not, it’s just as friends.” Ha ha fucking ha. Now I was a comedian as well.

“Oh, right. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.” Rus walked over and clapped his hand around my neck and gave it shake. No one was fooled, my lack of conviction a big ole neon sign.

“Whatever, I don’t think anyone in here has room to talk.”

Each of these bastards had gone through their own shitstorm. Angie, well she had done the love/hate thing to death. Her and Jase went through hell and back with so much fucking baggage it was a wonder they’d made it through at all. Then Rusty and Alison had their own dramas. My asshole of a brother/Alison’s deadbeat of a dad mixed with some ridiculously shitty circumstances meant the ride was far from smooth sailing for those two either. And don’t get me started on Joey. The dumbass
accidently
knocked up one of our good friends—who was a fucking catch if ever there was—and he takes his sweet motherfucking time realizing he actually loves her. Far as I saw it, Beth and I were in the minor leagues.

“Well if you are just
friends
, what’s the big deal in rescheduling? Not like it’s a date.” Rus, aka the wiseass, decided I hadn’t made myself clear enough before and wanted to needle me a little more.

“God, I hate you.” I laughed. As much as I hated it, the bastard had a point.

“Once again, keep telling yourself that. I ain’t buying any of it.” Rus shrugged, freaking beaming that his point had been made.

Sure it wasn’t a proper date, or any kind of date if you want to get technical, but I wasn’t interested in postponing. Partly because I was desperate to spend more than ten minutes with her. With the other side of that coin being I didn’t want her to think I was dicking her around. Dinner had been my suggestion. I didn’t want to do the sorry-something’s-come-up bullshit.

“Max, I know you have plans, but this is important.” Angie shifted uncomfortably on her feet. It suddenly didn’t feel like we were talking about whether a.m. or p.m. was a better option. “We get the hard work done now it means we get back in the studio soon. And I’m going to want to cut an album before the next baby’s born.”

What. The. Fuck.

Three sets of eyes got nailed to Angie, unsure if we’d just heard what we thought we just heard.

“Say what?” I’m pretty sure it came from my mouth although Joey was doing a whole lot of
huh?
as well.

“It’s early, I’m only eight weeks, but yeah.” She gave her non-existent bump a tap. “We’re giving Zack a little brother or sister.”

“That’s awesome. Congrats.” I closed the distance between us with a couple of steps and engulfed her in a hug; my head still reeling from the shock.

“Jason Irwin needs to keep his dick in his pants and stop knocking up our lead singer.” Rusty gave Angie a pointed look even though no one actually believed he was pissed off, the freaking grin he was wearing a mile wide. “Fucking Power Station, don’t they realize we haven’t got time for domestication?”

“Shut the fuck up, not like you can talk.” Angie flipped him and threw back a pointed look of her own.

Well then, I guess the newsflashes weren’t done yet. And stop the fucking press, because I was still trying to get over the first one.

“Alison’s pregnant?” Joey asked stealing the words right out of my mouth.

“Nooooooo.” Rusty reared back, our guess obviously off the mark.

“Then what?” We were all too tired to play guessing games, so Rus either spilled really fucking soon or I was going to beat it out of him.

“I proposed.” Rus leaned back on his heels, the bastard’s chest puffing out like a freaking peacock. “Ali’s been really gun-shy about the marriage thing so I’ve been waiting but I finally popped the question last night and she said yes. We’re doing something small; a big wedding will probably freak her out.”

“Congrats, man.” I pulled him into a hug and slapped him on the back. It was high time they both put a ring on it and I for one couldn’t be happier for them.

“What about you?” I turned to Joe wondering if we were going for a hat trick. “You got any life-altering announcements?”

“Layla ate oatmeal for the first time, other than that I got nothing.” Joey shrugged, nothing further to add.

And thank fuck for that, the extra cargo and a wedding announcement more than exceeding the limit for excitement for one day.

“I’ll change my plans,” I heard myself saying even before I’d finished thinking it. Of course I would, not like I could refuse.

It really wasn’t time to be an asshole, especially when it was just a dinner. Not that it made me feel any better about canceling. Oh no, I still felt like a complete cock but it was the right thing to do. For the greater good and all that.

Well.

Shit.

Tomorrow was going to really suck.

***

I had intended to wake up before Beth went to work to either knock on her door and tell her face-to-face or call her. Yeah, great fucking plan except some fucking dumbass forgot to set the alarm. By the time I’d managed to pull my eyes open, the morning was toast; the afternoon sun giving me the big middle finger as I got out of bed.

Fucking perfect.

There was no way in hell I was doing this via text and with my options drying up I was starting to get antsy. Pissed at myself and pissed at the situation. Oh, and I was also in a shitty mood, as well.

So, I could pout some more and feel sorry for myself, or I could try and salvage some of the situation. Without giving it any more thought I threw myself into the shower, into some clothes and was in my car ready to roll. The ‘Vette’s disgruntled roar matched my own vibe as I punched the gas to get where I was going.

By the time I’d made it to Beth’s school, the grounds were almost deserted. The SUVs and Sedans that you’d expect to line the street had long gone.

Damn it.

My fist punched my steering wheel, the horn protesting under my hand. And because it had been real fucking helpful, I gave it a bitch slap too. If I was going to be sitting in my car acting crazy, might as well go all the way, right?

“Max?” Beth leaned into the open car window, her beautiful eyes clouded in confusion. She was either wondering what I was doing in front of her school or why I was abusing the dash of my car.

“Beth?” I wasn’t sure if in my heavyweight bout with the interior I hadn’t knocked myself out and was now seeing things.

“Ummm, you said seven, right?” Which was a nice way of saying,
what the fuck.

“Yeah, I did but I’m not going to be able to make it.” I cursed out a breath. “I’m sorry, Beth. I was really looking forward to it, but I can’t.” Not unless I could work out how to be in two places at the same time. That would be a handy trick right about now.

“So, you came here?” She was no less confused than before. Can’t say I blamed her, I wasn’t exactly making a lot of sense.

Rather than continue the conversation through the window of my car door, I got my ass off the seat and ejected. Her eyes followed me the entire time as I walked to where she stood, her hot-for-teacher outfit making my jeans tight where my junk was.

“I didn’t want to leave you some bullshit message; that would be a shitty thing to do.” Not to mention a total fucking cop out. “And I had every intention of catching you before you left this morning . . . look, it doesn’t matter because it didn’t happen. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry that I have to postpone tonight.”