Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) Page 6

  His eyes go vacant for a few seconds and I wonder who he’s talking about. His sister? A friend? “How’s the job hunting going?” I give him a one-shoulder shrug and look into the dark night, wondering if Leo is watching me. Afraid that he’s disappointed with my parenting skills. He was the one who helped me with this ship and right now I’m trying my best to keep it afloat. “Have you checked the flower shop on Broadway St.? They have a help wanted sign posted in one of the windows.” There’s a ghostly smile on his lips. “You’d be using your botanist skills.”

  Some boyish smirk appears on his face and his eyes shine. I like that and I wish he did it more often. Feeling bold, I decide to ask him about himself. I’ve shared so much about myself that I figure it’s time for him to at least give me more than a grunt or a few sentences that give zero information. “Why do you work at the gas station, Porter?”

  His attention sinks to the floor. “I haven’t found my passion yet.” I laugh, but he doesn’t. “Well, I did but I lost everything.”

  “Why not rekindle that old passion?” I dare to ask, intrigued about this passion he had and lost.

  “Because I fucked with the wrong people.” His low voice almost lost in the humid air. “Figuratively and literally. Lost it all while pursuing the wrong dreams.” He pulls the sleeve of his hoodie up slightly and stares at a tattoo. Three letters. JGK. Who is that? “It’s late and I have to work early tomorrow.”

  Who did he fuck with?

  I follow him with my eyes, thinking about my next question. I want to know more about him. The subject I’m studying grants zero information. Next time I should ask better question—the right ones.

  Who is Porter? What happened to him?

  Life is made of dreams of all shapes and colors. Each dream takes you to the next step. My dreams are a reality. Most of them. My records sell like hotcakes or shaved ice on a hot summer day. Plus, I’m dating the girl of my dreams. AJ and I have been going steady for more than a year. I had promised to wait until she was eighteen, but as I began to tour and her seventeenth birthday got closer, I put myself out there. It’s nothing intense yet. She wants to wait for the right moment and I respect that.

  For now, only her brothers know that we’re dating. Gabe and Chris wouldn’t understand and both will get on my case. She’s too young; I’m just starting and shit. None of that matters. In the end, we’ll always be together—forever. She makes life perfect; closing my eyes, I picture my girl. Those enticing, deep green eyes that always give me the one thing I crave the most from her. Love. As I stroke each key, the music AJ and I composed together comes alive, like our love. Our songs bring together the best parts of the two of us. Except, shit, one of the songs we came up with sucked. I hate the lyrics she came up with; they’re direct and to the point.

  Sleepless night

  Missing you every day

  You told me it’s just for some time

  But I can’t help think that this is it

  [Chorus]

  It’s time to let our love bloom

  Let everyone know

  Stop living between the lines

  Days go by that I only have a photograph of you

  Babe, let our love shine

  Each time you leave I think I lost something

  In a day or two you’ll call

  But nothing will feel the same

  When’s the last time we spoke

  Your tobacco scent will be gone and my heart will hurt again . . .

  The shit is good and it’ll sell like candy during Halloween, but I know what she means and what she wants. As much as I adore her, things can’t be out in the open. She might not believe me, but what I feel for her is real and not being with her hurts me, too. While I lie awake, I crave having her in my arms. Leaving her side kills me, but we’re both pursuing our dreams and we can’t jeopardize our futures because we want to be together. My heart hurts after yesterday, yet I have so much energy inside me. Visiting AJ in Austin always revives me, gives me some new perspective and after this visit, I have four new songs. The last ones I needed to record my next album.

  Right after I dropped her off I called Chris and he agreed to meet me at his studio in Seattle so we can start working. He said that he’d drive. Hopefully, he will be late, because I have to head back to the hotel and change. Paranoia is in the studio recording their next album. Archer, the lead singer, and I shared a joint in the upstairs patio. I fucked up. One of those fucking rules that Chris has for Decker Records is that no musician can step inside the building under the influence of alcohol or drugs; or ingest them on the property.

  “You smell like pot,” I hear a voice say and slam my hands on the keys. Fuck. I forgot that MJ and JC now live in Seattle. “Dad’s going to kick you out of the studio. The rules apply to you too.”

  I choose to ignore him; maybe he’ll get the fuck out of this room.

  No such luck, as he walks closer to the piano. “That’s AJ’s.”

  “More like ours. We compose together sometimes,” I say, wondering why he’s here and why he talked about Chris. My gut hurts, holy shit, is he here already? “Is he here?”

  He gives me that typical “he’s going to fuck you up” look, and I know that he will if he sees me. Time to play nice with Jacob.

  “Fuck, do me a solid and stall him,” I try to sound friendly, but I’m not sure if I’m hitting the spot. “I have to go back to the hotel, take a shower and change. I hate when he gets touchy about my personal choices.”

  “Whatever. You know my sister wouldn’t like it either.”

  Well, now he’s fucking with me. AJ is off limits and he has no idea what happens in our relationship. “I never do this shit when my girl’s around.” I give him a warning look. “Now go and entertain him while I leave. See you later, dude.”

  Rushing, I grab my guitar case and leave. If either one of his fathers hears that AJ and I have something going on, I fear things will get ugly and I’m not ready for ugly.

  As I reach the stairs, though, I hear his loud voice, “Kendrick, are you high?”

  “Not exactly,” I respond.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Christian screams. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? That I was born yesterday?” I open my mouth to defend myself but he raises one arm, showing me his palm. “There’s no fucking way I’m going to work with you under these conditions. Head to wherever it is that you’re staying, take a nap, shower, and come back when you’re sober.”

  “It was a one-time thing,” I say, thinking of a way to get out of this shit without being a snitch.

  “One time?” He laughs. “Your behavior on the road is almost the same. Porter, I have no fucking idea what you think you’re doing, but you have to stop. Alcohol and drugs aren’t your friends. They’re poison. Take it from someone who knows.”

  Great, here it comes. The lecture about how he almost died and he lost years of his life because of the shit he messed with. Time and again I tell him that we’re different people. He doesn’t get it, he thinks that one day I’ll end up at the bottom of the pool at a party like him and I won’t be lucky.

  His eyes, so much like his daughter’s, stare at me for a few moments and he shakes his head. “You might be my foster child, but this behavior won’t fly at the label.” Hurray, there’s no lecture coming up, only a brief warning. “As I said, go sober up and come back with a better disposition.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I can go somewhere else with my music, but I don’t because he’s like my father, after all. One of the only two adults who have given a shit about me. Without a word, I salute him and leave the studio. Later today I’ll come back in better shape.

  When AJ was looking for a college, I suggested she look south. The weather was a factor; I hate cold temperatures. But her parents were my main reason to stay away from the northern states. If I could keep her away from Gabe and Chris, they wouldn’t know that I was dating their daughter. And no one that they knew would
ever connect the dots between our relationship and her relationship with the celebrities.

  In a few years, I’ll come clean, tell them that I love her and plan to spend the rest of my life with her. Without her I’m nobody, she’s the person that keeps me afloat when I can barely swim in the sea I live in. Coming home is what I cherish the most. At least, I used to. Lately, it’s been a fucking nightmare. She complains about our relationship. The thrill of not telling anyone is being replaced by something else. The constant nagging keeps me away from my own house and my woman.

  “I talked to Dad last week,” AJ says. “He wants us to go on vacation and wanted my address to send me my ticket. I think it’s time.”

  “AJ, don’t start,” I advise her before this becomes a freaking fight. Today I’m not in the fucking mood and if she continues, I’m leaving for the closest hotel. “They can use your email. They know what an electronic ticket is, darling.”

  Fuck, I didn’t just call her the same thing I call the groupies. I massage my forehead with the heel of my hand hoping that the drugs wear off soon. One misstep and my life can crumble down because of one moment of stupidity. This is why I hate when she starts her shit with me, I can’t straighten myself up, and I do stupid shit.

  “We’ve been together for so many years,” she pauses; her shoulders slump and I want to know why she’s not sticking to the fucking program. As she says, it’s been many years. She should be used to it by now. “They deserve to know. I hate to lie to them, and I’m harboring a huge secret.”

  “This is not the right time,” I claim, coming up with a shitty diversion. “They lie too, don’t they? For all we know, they have never been honest with you.”

  That should hit her right where it hurts and distract her from the agenda she wants to push. But instead of flinching or reacting like she usually does, she continues speaking. Damn, what the fuck is wrong with her?

  “I know things are . . . strange. We have an unconventional life.”

  “You want us to come out of the closet?” I chuckle, as I circle back to her parents fucked up relationship and the fact that they keep it in the closet. Everyone knows that Gabe Colt and Chris Decker are best friends, but if you’re a close friend of the family, you know the truth. They’re a married couple. AJ can’t understand why they keep the façade when same-sex marriage and relationships are common these days.

  But when I see her flinch and the sadness in her eyes increases, I apologize. I’m going too fucking far. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit so close to home, baby. I don’t know if we’re ready for that kind of pressure. That might open up questions about your origins and then drag your parents where they aren’t ready to go.”

  “This is about us, not my parents, Porter.”

  Damn, that strong armor is back and I have to fight her again. If we talk she’ll create chaos where there’s calm. Her parents love me, but I doubt they’ll approve of me if they realize I’m doing their daughter. There’s also the question of my close relationships with my fans, I’d have to avoid them during tours. AJ wouldn’t understand that sex with groupies on tour doesn’t count; they’re . . . groupies. “Can you stop being selfish for once and think about others, AJ?”

  “You should stop being selfish, prick.”

  That does it, she goes in for the kill, and I don’t have the strength to stay and fight. Instead, I head out. A few weeks of ignoring her will teach her that if she’s not careful she can lose me. Not that she will, but I have to show her that I have the upper hand. To make sure I stick to my guns, I turn off my phone and shove it in my luggage, taking out the other phone. The one I use for everyone else.

  “Sir, Miss AJ is not well,” the maid left a voicemail. “The doctor did some testing, but not to worry, she’s at home resting.”

  I smoke an entire joint laced with coke before I turn on the phone and call AJ to find out what the fuck happened. If she’s not careful with her health and keeps those glucose levels in check, her parents are going to fly down to Austin. One slip and she’s going to damage my fucking career.

  “Hi,” she whispers over the phone.

  “I checked my messages; the maid said you were in the hospital?” No, fuck that wasn’t what I wanted to say, it was . . . I couldn’t remember. “You okay?”

  “I didn’t go to the hospital, but the doctor came by. My sugar levels were out of whack,” she says, and I sigh with relief because she can fix that easily. “When will you be back?”

  Not for a long time, sweetheart, I think but don’t say. Like fuck I’ll go back right now. “Two, three weeks.” I hear a loud huff on the other side and I can feel there’s something that she has to get off of her chest. “I don’t know, why?”

  “Nothing . . .” There’s a long pause and I want to hang up, my mind is running wild with this fucking call. What does she really want from me? Break up? No, fuck not that. “I guess . . . I’m pregnant.”

  What the fuck? I want to scream at her, this isn’t part of the plan. No fucking way am I going to be a father. Hasn’t she noticed that I’m a fucked up idiot? Of course not, she still thinks I’m an amazing guy. Smart. I can conquer the world according to her. A kid? Her parents are going to castrate me. Fucking hell, I can’t think.

  “I can’t do this. Not now.” I slam the phone against the wall, thanking God for unbreakable cases or that piece of shit would be history.

  Hanging up doesn’t fix shit; I know that I have to face this soon. Maybe tomorrow, just after I escape from reality. A day, maybe two. A few weeks?

  The first step has been taken. I have a job. That should give me some work experience, a place to start and build from. Green Blooms Boutique hired me with some odd hours to fill. From two to eight in the morning during the week and eight to two every other Saturday. The hours sound like a killer, but I don’t sleep more than five hours at night. If I switch my habits and go to bed at the same time as my children, it’ll all work out.

  As I park the car outside of my aunt’s house, I spot her cleaning her flowerbeds while Finn sits next to her. I search around for Harper and spot her with Porter tagging along next to her as she rides a bike. A bike? We gave hers away because it was a childish bike. The one she rides is a little bigger, but also bubble gum pink with a basket in the middle of the handlebars. Where did she find it?

  Leaving the car, I realize that the bicycle doesn’t have training wheels. Wait, she doesn’t know how to ride without them. What’s going on? Staring at them, I wait until they turn around and head back my way. Harper’s eyes grow wide and her smile grows along with them. She loses her balance, but before the bike and my pretty girl take a bad hit, Porter’s hands reach for her, catching her almost in the air.

  “Are you okay?” I run toward them, but Harper hasn’t lost her smile while Porter is helping her find a steady foot. “When, how?” I look at my daughter and the bike, then at the man who might have had something to do with this whole thing.

  “Porter bought it, for me.” Harper gives me another round of smiles. “He taught me how to ride like a big girl.”

  I check my watch. I’ve been gone for about two hours. During this time, he managed to buy a bicycle, teach my daughter how to ride it, and the best of all, make her smile. He’s like a dream.

  “Okay kids, it’s time to get a snack, come with me,” My aunt yells, standing up and gathering my children. Then her attention goes back to me. “You can tell me later about your new job.” How does she know that I got it?

  “So did you get it?” Porter’s low voice asks.

  I nod, telling him about my crazy schedule. Then tilt my head toward the bike he holds. “Thank you, for telling me about the position . . . and the bike. How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “I thought this might help her out of her funk, you know.” He gives me his typical shrug, as if saying, “I do this for everyone.” I find his actions endearing. “When I learned to ride a bike, it gave me a sense of accomplishment and pushed me to f
ind my way for a little while.”

  Wow, he’s giving me some background information and I take the chance to ask questions. “Your dad taught you?” He shakes his head. “Mom?”

  “No, my mom died when I was four.” His shoulders slump and my heart hurts for him. “My big brother and my baby sister died along with her.” Oh, God, he lost his entire family. I want to open my arms for him, hug him, and tell him . . . I don’t know what, but make it better. Well, that explains why he avoids connecting with others, doesn’t it? “Nothing was easy, but everything changed when I found my foster parents. One of the things they taught me was to ride a bike—I was fourteen, but it felt good. They . . .” He goes silent, his head dropping.

  Did something happen to them, too? I take a few steps closer to him. We’re so close that his deodorant is all I can smell. It’s a masculine combination that I can’t name but it makes me dizzy. “What else happened to you, Porter?” My voice comes out all breathy and wrong. What happened to the confident Mackenzie? I have no fucking idea, but whatever is going on inside me isn’t something I want to analyze.

  “Me. I happened to myself,” he says and I don’t understand. He brushes a strand of hair off my face and curls it around my ear, making my entire body shiver. “Once upon a time I had everything. I was on top of the world. Lost what mattered most because of the material shit and then some more.” Some more what? He’s making zero sense. His eyes fixate on me as they start to warm up and I lose myself in them. Embraced by him I feel safe and protected, yet there’s an edge hiding inside. “I have to go to work.” He breaks the spell, turns around, and leaves toward the gas station.

  I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing them to warm up from the coldness that overtook my body as he ran away. What the hell just happened?