True Body Rock (Rockstar Romance) (The Body Rock Series Book 4) (6 page)

“Don't!” Curling back my lips, I gripped my own skull. “Never call me that again. I'm not a fucking kid.” My guts balled up, thinking about how I'd called Lola 'kid' initially.
I'm nothing like him. I won't be—I can't be.
“Just tell me why.”

His mouth fell open, a pathetic expression that I just loathed more. “I've—been seeing someone about that. Therapy, you know? I'm—”

“
Tell me why!
”

Lines grew deep along his forehead, around his eyes; eyes that were so tired and nothing like they used to be when I was just a child. “Did you really come to see me, after all these years, to ask that?”

“No.”
The why doesn't even matter.
“I don't need your answer. I figured it out soon after they sentenced you. I wasn't stupid, I fucking got why you turned into such a pathetic, desperate piece of shit over the years.”

He crumpled like a dying balloon. “Then what do you want from me? You want to talk to me, right? You're here for me.”

The nape of my neck cooked. “I'm not here for you, I'm here for
me
.”
I'm here so that I can get over my past. I'm here for me.

For Lola.

There was another prisoner in the cell, his body shifting under a blanket on the bottom bunk. My dad shot a look towards the movement, then eyed me with less defeat than he'd worn a second ago. “Fine. You came here to mock me. You proud of that? You proud of looking down on your own father, Anthony?” My hackles went up in rows. “You proud of taunting an old man who struggled to give you what you have now?”

“I used to be proud of
you!
” My bottom lip split with my hard growl, the blood a distant note on my tongue. “I was so god damn proud of everything you did, I looked up to you!” Whatever plan I'd had, the perfect speech I'd written in my brain on the way to the jail, it was washed over by the one that had been scratching itself into my brain since the day my dad had started to ignore me.
He erased me. He hated how good I was becoming, how much I surpassed him, and he began to turn me invisible until he couldn't any longer.

The realization did nothing for my rage.

“You looked up to a failure like me?” he asked, eyes going dull, doubtful.

“I did.” Raising my arm, I wiped at the burning cut on my dry mouth. “Until the very first time you hit me, I just wanted to be like you.”
I wanted to show you I could be the star you wanted me to be.

Turning away, Donnie closed his eyes and breathed out. “Well, you've made it further than I ever did. I've seen you on television, son. You're famous—like I wanted to be. You just actually got there.” There was a hollowness in his gaze as he looked back at me. “Guess we weren't very similar, in the end.”

“No,” I said, feeling my lower back twinge. “We're nothing alike.”
And we never will be. “
I'm here to remind myself of that. I'm going to make sure I never, ever become anything like you.”

In the shadows of the cell, my father fidgeted.

Seeing him like that, bent over, face lined with a map of misery, I burned the memory deep into my mind. This was who my father was, and even though our blood was the same, our hearts never would be.

I had demanded perfection from Lola in the way my dad had from me. I'd felt the fear when I saw her talent soar, recognized the world would claw and crave her as I did every second. I'd lost my mind at the idea she'd slip away, told myself I would do anything,
anything
to keep her at my side...

But I was not my father.

And I would never let myself become the bitter man he was.

Turning on my heel, I stuck my hands in my pockets. “One more thing, before I leave and never waste my time thinking about you again.” My lungs fluttered, fresh with satisfaction. “What does it take to be a good guitarist?”

He stood rigid, finally to his full height; I had his attention.

I'd never wanted it more.

“Honesty.” The single word cut the stagnant air of the prison. “The answer is honesty. That's why you could never make it.”
And why she could. That beautiful, genius fucking girl knew the answer from the start.

His lips moved, mouthing the word softly. “Honesty? You think that's what matters?”

“Yeah.” There wasn't a tremor of doubt in my voice. How could there be? “It's what allows people to be themselves, to be free and unconstrained.”
It's what will keep Lola and I together.

My heels cut down the concrete hall. Not once did I look back, not even to see the proof that my father was looking after me with the regret I'd wanted him to understand, to truly
know
, back when I was merely a teenager.

I was finally done with my father.

But there was more to do before I could return to Lola.

––––––––

J
ohnny took a sip from his coffee. It looked cold, made me curious how long he'd nursed it. I thought he was nursing the information, too. Like he was counting the seconds, enjoying being the center of attention again. Finally, Johnny bent low in my direction. “I'm only telling you this, because you should know the kind of man Drezden is.”

The kind of man he is.
I reminded myself to breathe.

“His name isn't Drezden Halifax.” I could see the shiny purple circles under his eyes as he stared at me. “It's Anthony Holland.”

Sean had warned me, told me Drezden wasn't really his name. I still wasn't prepared. The knowledge was a solid stab in my chest, my lungs whistling. “So what?” I said suddenly, delirium building in my need to defend the man. “Lots of rockstars use fake names. Why does it matter?”

Under the table, something poked me. One glare from Sean told me he'd kicked me with his toe.

“It's not that he has a stage name,” Johnny said. The anxiousness in my tone was rivaled by the rising excitement in his. “It's the reason.”

My ears were ringing, and fuck, my heart wouldn't stop racing. “Give me the reason.”

That smile was wicked, lacking sympathy in every corner. “Drez uses a fake name so that it can't be traced back to his dad. The bastard put his own fucking
father
in jail.”

“I—he what?”
His father? What the hell?

“Drez beat the shit out of his dad, yeah.” Thin fingers ran through greasy, unkempt hair. “Fucked him up and got him arrested, never gave a shit about the guy, I guess.”

When had I started shaking my head? “That doesn't make sense, why would he do that?”

“What does it matter?” Sean snapped, gripping the edge of the tiny table. “If he could do that to his own dad, the guy has fucking issues! I told you he was dangerous.”

Johnny snorted, peering at us both. “That's for sure. He cold-cocked me, remember? I didn't do fuck all to him. If he wanted me out, he didn't need to punch me to do it—”

“Stop.”
I don't get it.
“Just stop a second.”
This makes no sense.
My temples were throbbing. “If his dad went to jail, it means he did something wrong.”

Drezden had to have a reason.

The man across from me scowled. “What, you think they needed a reason to put
me
in jail, too? Sometimes people end up behind bars when they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That means... you don't even
know
what happened between him and his dad, right?” I knew they all heard my exhilaration. I couldn't bury it, I was jumping at every sign that Drezden wasn't to blame for the violence.

Johnny's forehead wrinkled, his scowl even deeper. “Maybe I don't know the details—”

“And it doesn't matter!” Sean cut in.

“—But I know the important shit. Drezden hates his dad, and if anything, would love to see the guy dead.”

Acid bubbled in my stomach. “You know that how?”

“Why change his name, why would he want nothing to do with the guy?” Johnny's voice had a wild edge; I watched the coffee cup shake, ready to topple. “You tell me! You fucking put the pieces together. The night after we officially formed the band...” He stopped, shooting a look at Sean's wince.

Right. Johnny took the spot Sean auditioned for.

It had been easy for me to forget the tie my brother had to all this. I'd only learned about it recently. Now, the picture was forming in front of me.

In the back of my brain, I felt a tickle of foreboding.
Does Sean have some other reason for wanting me to meet Johnny? Something beyond telling me these awful things—lies or not—about Drezden?

“Anyway,” Johnny mumbled, scratching at the side of his neck. “Me and the others—Porter, Colt... We all ended up in this graveyard, and Drezden was drunk as all get out. He fucking—the guy was nuts!” Johnny was gesticulating, growing more and more manic as he spoke. “Guy got angry when I tripped over a headstone. He, like, jammed me hard in the ribs with his fist.” For emphasis, he jabbed at the air. “Like that! Fucker hit me so much, just kept pummeling me! Bam! Told me to respect the dead, even as he went on yammering about the dead being forgotten or something.”

It wasn't long before I was leaning backwards.
This story, it's... it's insane. It can't be real.

“It's where the name comes from,” he said, blinking like he'd just noticed me. “Four and a Half Headstones, I mean. Drezden figured it fit us, a grim fucking meaning—something like, a half headstone exists to remind us we'll be forgotten someday or... I don't, shit. He was just crazy. Okay? Drez was always a crazy fucking—” An abrupt, sharp ringing came from my brother.

Both of us stared as Sean fumbled for his phone. “Sorry,” he said, doing a double-take at the number. “Ah, fuck. It's Shark, hang on. I need to take this.” Shoving the chair back, Sean stood and cupped the phone to his ear. “Man, hey,” he whispered, walking towards the door, “I'm in the middle of a thing—wait, he what? Shit!”

I jumped, stunned by the explosion of emotion. Sean hunched over, grumbling into the phone and walking back and forth. The man behind the coffee counter was staring, too. My brother was acting like a caged lion.

“Fine, yes. I'm on my way.” He shut his phone violently. “We need to go back. Caleb's a fucking moron. Shark just called to tell me he got himself drunk in public this morning, now he's in a holding cell.” Shaking his head rapidly, my brother laughed. “It's like, god damn five in the evening. The asshole started drinking at ten and just—I need to go down and break him out.”

I was fine with this. Meeting Johnny had done little but cement his unstable, lying nature in my heart. The former guitarist had to be exaggerating, he just had to be. Feeling freed from the tension Johnny was building in me, I stood on eager legs. “Alright. Let's just go back.”

A hand touched mine, freezing me. “I want to tell you more. Hell,” Johnny snorted, “I feel like I
need
to. There's so much shit—I can tell you more, stay here and just hear me out. Get it?”

I jerked my arm away; his touch had been so oily. “Uh, look. Maybe another time, sure.” I looked to my brother. He was antsy, bouncing on the balls of his feet. I understood his worry; he needed to get his singer out before tomorrow, or his band couldn't play at all. “We're in a hurry. Sorry, another time.”
There's no way I'm hanging around here alone.

“Oh, okay! I'll just—okay, another time then,” Johnny shouted after me. “Nice to finally meet you, Lola!”

I didn't feel the same.

“I'm going to drop you off at your tour bus,” Sean said, guiding the van out onto the road.

Eyeing the sky, mulling over Johnny's words, I shook my head. “Actually, could you drop me off at the Hilton?”
I want to talk to Drezden.

The clouds were looking foreboding as we drove. Sean's headlights made the pavement a muddy yellow. The color reminded me of Johnny's skin. Frowning, I wiped at where he'd touched me. “So, listen. Has Johnny been living in a gutter or what? He looked awful.”

My brother's laugh was tight, sour as bad wine. “Close enough. I met up with him this morning at the Greenmill Motel. Guess that's where he's been for a few days.”

That sounded... strange.
We only rolled into the city yesterday. Was Johnny just... here, waiting for us?
He had to know the tour would end in Seattle. Thinking of the guy, gaunt and edgy, hanging around in a filthy motel just waiting for everyone to arrive...

It made my insides queasy.

“Did you believe what he said?” Sean asked suddenly, not glancing at me.

Fidgeting in the seat, I watched the road. “Not really. Some of it, but—come on. Sean, that guy is crazy. One look at him and you could tell.”

“He could be crazy
and
right about Drezden.”

Twisting, I narrowed my eyes on my brother. “What was this really about? Do you want to help me find out about my boyfriend, or are you just trying to prove to me that he's some sort of violent psycho?”

Sean just clenched his jaw in silence.

Slumping in the cushion, I pulled my hood over my head. “Guess I already knew the answer to that.”

“Lola—”

“You brought me to meet someone like
Johnny Muse
because you wanted me to think Drezden was dangerous.”

“He
is
dangerous!” Sean snapped, crushing the steering wheel.

No,
I thought morosely,
it's Johnny's who's dangerous. Not the man I—what? Love?
Closing my eyes, I pictured Drezden's face; his hard edges and wild green eyes. All I wanted was to see him, even just to talk to him and confront him with Johnny's accusations.
He might get mad. But let him.

There were nuggets of truth in Johnny's words. I wasn't sure which parts, but Drez
had
to explain. He just had to tell me what had happened with his—with his father.

The drive to the Hilton couldn't go fast enough.

****

I
t was drizzling as we rolled up to the tall building. Even with the surge of bleak weather, people were milling around, covering their heads with jackets to stay dry as they could.