Razor's Edge (Afflictions) (27 page)

“Never fucking better!” I slap his back. My body is zinging. I feel like I could take on the world. And win!

The roar and boos of the audience blast out the heavy metal door I open. They’re pissed. Oh well. They won’t be for long.

“Morgan.” Lina touches my arm. “Maybe we should cancel the—”

“Cancel? No fucking way!”

Wiley’s eyes soften.

What the hell does he have to be concerned about? He doesn’t know what I did. Or does he? Do they?

Tryst’s scowling as usual. Fuck Tryst. He always thinks he’s so much better than everyone else. Why? Just ’cause he was a marine. Shit. I’m not scared of him.

Bryan runs a hand over the spikes in his blue hawk. “Check it, dude. That was some pretty heavy shit. If you aren’t up for—”

“This is about earlier? Ha!” For a moment I thought they suspected me. I must be blitzed out of my mind. Perfect! Fuck Shay! I bounce. All the power in me is ready to take on my fans. “I’m ready to go!”

“Good.” Emily pushes my back.

Where the hell did she come from?

“Get your asses on stage.”

“Yeah! Let’s do this!” My heart is racing like a train. I’m ready to ride and rock this shit out!

  
Thirty-one

Shay

Oh! Ouch! I grab my ribs. My daughter’s gonna be one hell of a soccer player. Glad I only have one more month of this crap.

“You okay?” Gretchen asks as she wipes down the front counter.

“Yeah, she’s just a little wound up today.” I walk over to my station and pass Ben sitting at his desk with his laptop, his eyes glued to the screen. He’s torn up about my breakup with Morgan, so I let him watch the playback of his concert from the night before. It’s the least I can do, and Ben’s new favorite band is Stones of Rage. Still think they need a new name.

My face falls as I glance at the screen and see Morgan doing what he does best, commanding his audience with all the confidence of a pothead. Only this time he’s different—he looked juiced up on something, like he’s the energizer bunny. He bounces across the stage a little faster than normal. Must be his manager’s doing.
Fuck Emily, and fuck Morgan, too.
They can have each other.

My heart pinches and burns. God, will I ever get over the pain I’m feeling? It’s so much worse than those few times Gary and I broke up. I eat because I have too, although food has no taste. It’s only a necessity. My sleep is disrupted constantly with visions of Morgan. If I wasn’t pregnant and didn’t have Ben to take care of I’d shrivel up and lock myself in a dark hole somewhere. I really don’t feel like living anymore, but I have to for my kids. So I force myself to go
through the motions of everyday life.

The bell rings.

Bebe comes in carrying a brown Panera Bread bag. Lunch. I don’t want to eat but I have too. My sinuses tickle.
Morgan always used to bring me Panera.
I choke back the tears threatening to come.

She sets the bag on Ben’s desk and pulls out a sandwich. “Grilled Cheese.” She sets it in front of Ben, then digs back into the bag. Her whole demeanor toward me these last three months has changed. She’s become distant. Even at my baby shower last month I could feel the cord of our friendship straining. I accepted Gary’s deal and she’s pissed. She thinks just ’cause he signed away his legal rights that I should stop. I tried to tell her it’s not that simple. But short of telling her Gary’s threats and involving her, which would be shitty on my part because they’re siblings, I keep quiet.

Gary might have signed the paperwork to null his parental rights, but that won’t stop him from nabbing Ben when I least expect it. And Gary’s smart. He’d plan it out so that before I even knew my son was missing they’d be gone. With his connections, I don’t doubt it for a second. So I muster up the courage and force back the shame and go to him twice a week.

“Bread bowl.” She sets it down in front of me.

The baby kicks. Another rib shot. “Jesus!” I grab my side.

Gretchen rushes across the room. “Are you okay?”

I nod, then inhale slowly. “She’s just rambunctious.”

Ben screeches. His eyes are huge as he pulls off his head phones. “Morgan just dropped on stage!”

Bebe glances at the screen and her face loses some color. “Holy shiz!”

That can’t be right. Morgan knows how to move around the stage. He wouldn’t just fall off it.

Gretchen and I make our way around the desk and look at the screen.

Everything inside me stops. A cold chill creeps into the fibers of my soul as I take in the scene playing out before me. EMTs are surrounding Morgan. He’s lying on the stage and not moving. What the fuck happened? How’d he get hurt? “
Bebe, can you take Ben upstairs to eat his lunch?”

“I can watch it again, Mom.” He rolls his eyes and skips the scene back to just before Morgan dropped.

Before he hits play I stop him and shake my head. “Upstairs.” Like I’m going to let him watch this again.

He gives me a dirty look.

“No.” His tone is sharp.

“Excuse me?”
He just told me no?
“Benjamin Samuel Kelly. You’ll go upstairs and finish your lunch. Backtalk me again and you’re grounded from your laptop.”

His brows pinch and he screams, “You’re ruining my life!” He snatches his sandwich. “Morgan’s my
dad.
You can’t keep him from me.”

Holy shit!
I’m sucker punched in the gut. How did that happen? Ben thinks of Morgan as a dad? I tried to avoid this. I didn’t think that my feelings for Morgan would hurt my son. I thought he just thought of him as a friend. I had no idea how deep those feelings ran.

Ben runs from the room, and I hear his little feet stomping up the stairs to our loft. A few seconds later the door slams with a loud boom.

I’m a fucking horrible mother.
Morgan was right. I wasn’t taking Ben’s feelings into account. How could I do that? I slump down in Ben’s chair.

Bebe
is mean-mugging me. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.” She disappears into the back.

I should go see if he’s okay. Somehow I know it won’t help. He’s mad at me and needs time to cool down. I’ve never seen him act this way. It’s like he lost all the respect he had for me. My little boy is growing up and forming his own opinions. He’s on the cusp of being a preteen, and I know that there’s more than hormones at stake
here. I have no idea how to deal with it.

“Wow!” Gretchen shakes her head.

“Not you too.” I let my head hit the desk.

“No, not me too.” She rubs my back and I soak up the comfort. “He’s just upset and doesn’t understand the situation. Give him some time. He’ll get over it.”

Get over it?
Get over Morgan not being around? I look back at the screen. The image is paused on Morgan lying flat on his back. What the hell happened to him? Sadness comes over me, and my heart skips as I click play.

Morgan is bouncing across the stage. He’s really into it and all hyped up, then—

He drops.

Nothing hit him. There is no blood. Just Morgan falling.

All the blood drains from my face. I jump up from the chair. My heart stops, then kickstarts again. Did he have a heart attack? Is he dead? I fumble for my phone and bring up Tryst’s number. Praying to whatever God is up there that Morgan hasn’t left this world.

It rings.

Dammit, Tryst! Pick up.
I haven’t talked to him since before Gary propositioned me. I’ve tried to call him a few times, but he never answers. It always goes straight to voice mail. Just like it does now. He’s upset and gave up on me just like my parents did before I got pregnant with Ben. I never thought he’d do this to me. I always thought he’d be there. Like he promised. You’d think the guy would put his feelings on hold for this shit.

Anger coils in the pit of my stomach. Morgan is the father of my little girl. I don’t care how much shit has gone down. I have a right to know if he died.

Died?

A sob erupts from my soul. Tears flood my eyes and pour sorrow down my cheeks.
He can’t be dead
. Not him. He might have done some shady shit, but he was hurt. I hurt him. If he’s dead—I missed my chance to make things right.
I want to make things right.

Cincy
is five hours from here.
Tryst probably won’t answer his phone. I know what I have to do.

“It’s okay. I’m sure he’s fine.” Gretchen continues to rub my back. “Morgan’s a strong guy. He was probably so hyped up, this being one of his last concerts and all, that he might’ve skipped a meal.”

Yeah. That might be it. He might have just fainted. I don’t need to drive—hell, yes I do. What if it wasn’t that? What if it’s more serious? What if he’s dead?

I dart to the back and race up the stairs to my loft.

Gretchen’s behind me. “What are you going to do?”

I pause. Am I seriously going to do this?
I have to.
I have to know what’s wrong with him. I swing open my door. “Ben, pack some clothes. We’re driving to Cincinnati.”

#####

Bebe navigates the long stretch of highway. She insisted that she drive me. Said I was too upset to be driving. She’s right. My emotions are all over the place. One is clearer than all the rest—fear. I’m scared I’ll be too late. I’m afraid that the worst has happened and I lost the love of my life. I’ll never forgive myself for shutting him out if that happens.

“So he’s in recovery.”
Bebe’s voice sooths some of my fear. She has her cell pressed to her ear as she keeps her eyes on the road.

Finally got hold of Tryst, apparently.
Odd that he’d answer her phone calls and not mine.

“We’re almost there.”
Bebe clicks the blinker to exit the freeway. “Should be at the hospital in ten.”

And that’s too fucking long. I play with the hem on my tank top.
He’s in recovery. Calm down, girl.

“Okay, okay. Point taken.”
Bebe ends the call and tosses her cell in the center console.

“And…”

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. Even from the side view I can tell she’s sad. “He’s in recovery.”

“I know that.” I let out a frustrated breath. “I heard. What happened?”

“Um…” She nods her head toward Ben. “He passed out.”

Right! God, am I that upset that I didn’t consider my son’s feelings? I look back at him. He has his headphones in and he’s listening to music on his laptop. He wouldn’t have heard. But
Bebe’s right. It’s best not to chance it.

My phone buzzes. It’s my shop. We left Gretchen in charge. Shit, I wonder what happened
now? I hit answer. “Yeah.”

“I know you’re busy and all, but I thought I’d give you the heads-up. Gary came by here pissed as hell. Said you never showed up for your date.”

Holy Shit!
I forgot. I was supposed to go over there today. “Thanks, Gretchen. What did you tell him?”

“That you were going to
Cincy to see Morgan.”

Fuck!

“Was I not supposed to tell him that?”

Gretchen has no clue. No one does—about the threat Gary hangs over my head. Of course she wouldn’t think to keep that quiet. I run a hand down my face. “No. It’s okay.”

It’s really not.

She sighs. “Good. I thought I messed up for a moment. He looked pretty angry.”

“I’ll deal with him later. It’s over between us. Permanently.” And I mean it. Morgan will take me back. He’ll keep Ben and me safe. I will not keep throwing my life away, keep degrading myself for Gary. I lost the respect of everyone I love, including Ben. So for him, for me. I’m finally stepping up. I’ll figure out what to do about his threats when I know Morgan is safe.

Five minutes later we walk into the waiting room of the recovery unit at University Hospital. Wiley’s sitting in a chair watching TV, and Tryst is staring out a window.

“Uncle Tryst!” Ben runs over to him and Tryst turns.

He scowls at me but smiles at Ben. “Hey,
Duders.”

“How’s
Morg?” Ben asks.

“He’s sleeping. But he’s good. He just passed out.”

And I’m still wondering why he passed out.

“They said we could go in and see him, but how about we get some food first.” Tryst arches a brow at Ben, but won’t look at me.

“I’m starving.” Bebe moves past me and takes Ben’s hand. “Morg will probably want something when he wakes up.”

“I’m not six.” Ben looks up at her. “Mom’s going in first. I get it.” He walks toward the hallway where there’s a sign pointing toward the cafeteria.

Bebe shrugs and follows him.

Tryst sneers at me.

“What the fuck is your problem, Tryst?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “My problem? My problem is you fucking that asshole on camera.”

What?
The whole waiting room is looking at us now. Even Wiley stands from his seat. “I never had sex with Gary on camera.”

“Bullshit.” He steps closer to me. “We all saw the video.”

Gary videotaped us?
I
take a seat as goose bumps form all over me. My stomach twists.
That asshole! And they all saw it!
Bile rises up the back of my throat and I gag to choke it back. I inhale and calm my stomach before I turn to Tryst. “I had no clue.”

His scowl won’t let up. It’s like the expression is cemented to his face. “You know what?” He shakes his head. “I don’t give a shit anymore. Ruin your life. Your mom was right—you’re a lost cause. And right now I have too much
shit on my plate to deal with. Our lead singer just ODed on heroin.”

All the wind is knocked from my sternum. “What?”

Wiley stands, and I’m shocked by the sympathy I see in his gray eyes. Where the hell did the real Wiley go? “We didn’t know he was doing it. This had to be his first time. We would’ve known if he’d done this before. We would have seen a pattern.”

“Are you sure about that? I didn’t know Gary was using for the first six months the drug had a hold on him.”