Bottleneck Read online

  “You’re a fucking headcase, Emery,” she spits, backing toward the door.

  I follow. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “A drunk, sad loser who’ll never be anything but real a musician’s shadow.”

  Mosaic lifts his head, sensing the shift in the air.

  “I seem to make enough as a musician’s shadow,” I taunt, herding her toward the exit. “Enough for you to overlook how much of a loser I was while you blew me for more money.”

  She snatches up her coat, using it to shield herself from me.

  “You know what they call women that fuck for money, Dee?”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she grits, back touching the apartment door.

  “Not a whore,” I chuckle. “Nah. That’s an actual job. Women like you are called desperate.” I lean in, aware that Mosaic creeps around the sofa to keep an eye on things, and whisper in her ear. “Opportunists.” Her breath hitches as I change sides to whisper in the other. “Insecure.” I back up, running the tip of my tongue along the rim of my top teeth.

  “You think you’ve finally won, huh?” Deanna snaps, tugging the door open. “You think that it’s fun to be the big man for once?”

  I shrug, smirking.

  She matches my crooked smile. “Before you get too big for those toddler boots of yours, just remember who I am to you.”

  “Enlighten me, honey.”

  She takes a step back, hands out behind her to find the banister rail. “I’m the fucking closet you keep all your skeletons in, Emery. You want to ruin me? Don’t forget that I’m the one who can fucking destroy you.”

  The truth sends ice rocketing through my veins, a high that promises the lowest of lows.

  Yet I don’t show it. In the seconds it takes me to step forward and shut the door in her face, I don’t falter. I still don’t crack when I pause, palm against the wood, and take a deep breath.

  Nope.

  I break when the reality of how fucked I am shines back at me from my goddamn dog’s wide eyes.

  “What is this fucked up hole I’ve dug myself into, buddy?”

  He limps across the room and presses a wet nose to the back of my hand, nudging for me to pet him.

  I slide my palm over his broad head to the sound of Deanna’s tires peeling out of the driveway and smile. “You ready for a road trip?”

  He snorts.

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Alice

  “An Honest Mistake” – The Bravery

  Last night’s club gig sucked. Not because of the crowd. Nope. Those guys were rockin’ hard out. But because after managing to make a profit on our first two bookings, this weekend we lost it all.

  The three of us all forgot one crucial thing: to check who else plays in the neighborhood on the same night.

  It turns out that rap music trumps rock. We didn’t stand a chance against some young hotshot who had a fucking army of followers fostered by his YouTube career.

  Fria took a vow of silence the minute we picked her up from her temporary digs and didn’t break it until she slung a final insult my way when I dropped her back at her friend’s house.

  Shanae did her best to be the jelly in our sandwich, but she also showed signs of burnout by the end of the night. The girl hasn’t said much about her sister, but I take it her visit home last week didn’t go too well.

  She’s a stickler for the old adage that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Hence why her silence spells trouble.

  Sleep-socks wrapped around my feet and over-sized Black Sabbath t-shirt brushing my thighs, I wander into our small kitchen to make myself a morning brew. My focus remains fixated on the screen of my phone while I blindly reach for the pot and fill it with water. There are a few positions open for cash jobs within walking distance, but nothing I’m qualified for.

  If I’m going to cover living costs and get our car fixed, I need more than the grand Mom loaned me, and like hell, I’ll go back into that snake pit to ask for more.

  I already have nightmares about Christmas.

  Using the back of my wrist, I nudge the tap off and then empty the pot into the machine’s tank. My other thumb glides up the phone screen while I scour for something that doesn’t require training as a fucking barista.

  The front door rattles open.

  I narrowly miss jamming the coffee pot against the side of the machine in my haste to get it seated, trying frantically to ensure my naked ass is suitably covered.

  Shanae pops her head around the corner; woolly hat shoved down over her wild red waves. “What are you doing?” Her lips split in a grin as she sets a shopping bag on the counter.

  “Jesus.” I clasp my phone to my chest. “I thought you were still in bed.”

  “I went out to get creamer.” Her brow twitches into a frown. “Who the heck did you think would be walking into our apartment so early?” She reaches up to unwind the scarf from her neck.

  “I don’t know, that’s the problem,” I exclaim before bursting into laughter. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  Her gaze roves my sleep attire. “Well, you might want to put pants on. You’ve got a present on the front step.”

  “A present?” I frown. “Who from?”

  “You’ll see.” She disappears down the hall to stash her woollies. “You should like it.”

  I frown after her and then glance down at my cartoon bat-emblazoned panties peeking out from under the T-shirt. The neighbors have seen me pop out to get courier packs in less; who cares if I have pants on or not?

  Leaving my phone on the counter, I duck around the corner and tug the front door open. Mis-matched eyes stare up at me.

  “Uh, hello.”

  The dog ducks his head and nudges at a slip of paper tucked under his paw. Keeping my eye on his, I crouch down and gently pull it free.

  Can I come in? is penned in rough scrawl on the back of a gas station receipt.

  Frowning, I eyeball the dog who watches me with a stoic gaze and then check over his head for any sign of the owner.

  My phone chimes from the counter inside.

  “You need to get that,” Shanae calls from in her room.

  I cock my head, narrowing my gaze on the dog again, and then toss a pointless, “Stay.”

  He follows me indoors anyway.

  E: He’s house-trained.

  “For fuck’s sake.” I lean left and holler down the hallway. “Did you see him out there, Shanae?”

  She pops her head out her bedroom door with a smug grin and points behind me. Fuck.

  “I am too,” Emery verbally adds to his short text. “House-trained, that is.”

  “I don’t take in strays.”

  His gaze follows my hands as I tug futilely at the bottom of my T-shirt. “Good thing I’m familiar to you then, huh?”

  “Not as familiar as you’d like,” I murmur under my breath, turning away. “Why are you here?” I freeze partway to my bedroom for pants. “No. Actually, how are you here? I didn’t tell you where I live.”

  “Your agent told me where to find you.”

  “That fucking useless—”

  “Hey.” Emery raises both palms with a cocksure grin. “It’s not his fault. I sort of lied. Told him I had a proposal for you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Do you?” Shanae asks from behind me, scaring the ever-loving Jesus out of me once more.

  “Christ, woman,” I mutter, hand to my heart. “Get a goddamn bell if you’re going to keep doing that.”

  “I do have a proposal,” he clarifies.

  My attention swings back to Emery with the hesitant way he muttered his response. One tattooed hand sweeps through his messy waves, eyes downcast on our threadbare carpet.

  “It’s just not about music. Sorry, girls.”

  “Ugh.” With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Shanae disappears back in her bedroom, leaving me to face our uninvited guest alone.

 
“Well?” Both arms protectively across my chest, I pop a hip. “What is it?”

  He drags his desperate gaze up to mine, brow furrowed. “Can I crash here for a few days?”

  “With your dog?” I lift an eyebrow.

  He tilts his head to stare at Mosaic and nods.

  I should scream no and send Emery out the door after the frosty reception I got at his. But in all the years I’ve known the guy, I’ve only seen him look this fragile once, and that was the day his grandfather passed away.

  “I’m not saying yes,” I state, hands out before me. “But …”

  “But?” That cheeky smile returns.

  “But you can stay one night, and Ione night only—on one condition.”

  “Name it.” The jerk takes a step closer.

  “Tell me what the fuck is happening with you, okay?” My brow pinches as he reaches for the hem of my T-shirt. “Why the drunk messages? Why the asshole routine? Why the random house call?”

  “I like this.” The rough tips of his fingers scrape at my upper thigh when he tugs the fabric lower. “You sleep in it?”

  “You’re dodging the question.”

  “I didn’t know the condition was a question.” As quickly as he crept into my space, he leaves, ducking out the front door to retrieve a duffle bag.

  “I take it you agree then?” My arms return to my chest, even if it does lift my shirt so that the panties peek out.

  “Agreeing to a question?” the jerk teases. “How do I do that? I agree with the condition, though.”

  “Ugh!” Hands in the air, I turn and promptly trip over his fucking dog.

  “Hey. Take it easy on the poor guy. He’s got a busted hip.”

  The lump of furry rock stares back at me with the sorriest damn gaze ever. “Is that why he doesn’t move much?”

  Emery nods, ditching his bag by the TV cabinet and crossing over to where I’ve managed to enter a staredown with a mixed breed mongrel. “He dislocated it, so he’s supposed to be on bed rest.” Em chuckles, rubbing at his chin with one hand. “Have you ever seen a mutt like him try to stay still, though?”

  “I’ve never had a dog,” I admit, a little upset that he forgot I told him so in one of our late-night conversations all those years ago.

  He stares, and I can’t pick if it’s out of regret at realizing the fact, or shock that I’ve never had a dog.

  “So,” I call a little too loud as I turn for the coffee pot. “What’s the reason for your visit? I thought I was the last person you wanted to see.”

  “Toby’s busy, and with Kris overseas and Rey in rehab, I don’t have many other places to go.”

  “Great,” I deadpan. “I’m your last resort, huh?”

  “I mean, I could have stayed with Rick. Our manager,” he explains when I stare at him with a frown. “But he’s a boring fucking loser at the best of times, and all he’d talk about is how I should focus on the next album and shit.”

  “Wow.” Sarcasm drips from the single syllable. “You’re such a nice guy. No other friends, then?”

  “Hard to make any when you’re always on the road.”

  “And here I thought you’d have a list of girls as long as your arm willing to take you in.”

  “Funny.” Em rests an elbow on the counter, leaning at an angle that frustratingly exposes his toned obliques. “Make me one, yeah? I haven’t had a coffee since I left home.”

  “You drove straight here?” I hesitate with my mug in position. “Without stopping?”

  “To get gas, sure.” He shrugs.

  “So…” I narrow my gaze on the guy. “You’re sober, then?”

  Emery laughs, tilting his head back to showcase a deliciously thick neck. “Fuck, no!”

  I slam the button to start the machine and then smack him on the shoulder—hard. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

  “Hey!” He backs out of the kitchen with me still swinging, hands raised to protect his face. “What’s the deal, Alice?”

  “What’s the deal?” I holler. “You fucking drove here, drunk? What the fuck, Emery? Do you not give a shit about anyone else?”

  “Hey!” Shanae yells. “Alice. Woah!” She reaches between us in a meager attempt at slowing my hurricane of slaps.

  “It was fine,” Emery argues. “I can walk straight. I can see where I’m going.”

  “So, fucking what?” My chest heaves, blood pumping. “You’re a goddamn risk. Your reaction time is reduced, not to mention your ability to judge a situation during an emergency safely.”

  “Jesus.” His smug smirk falls, frustration taking its place. “If I’d known all you’d do is judge me, I would have stayed at home.”

  “Emery, wait,” Shanae urges, abandoning me for the reckless asshole. “Just listen to her, okay?”

  “Nah.” He shakes his head, messy hair shielding his stormy eyes. “I wanted a place where I’d get understanding and support. Not this.”

  “For what?” I ask against better judgment. “Support for what?”

  He glances at the two of us, seeming to judge how much he should spill in the heat of the moment. “I want to get sober, Alice.” Mosaic shifts to his side as though reading his owner’s distress. “I want to change.”

  “Fuck.” Shanae stands between the two of us, her wide eyes conveying everything I refuse to voice.

  He’s asking for a friend. All I want to know is, “Why me? Why now?”

  “Pardon?” Dark lashes frame haunted eyes.

  “You heard me,” I murmur, clutching my arms to my chest while I massage the tops. “Ten years ago, I would have set aside everything to help you, Em. But you left me behind. You cut me off when I was no longer useful to you, and now you want to come back and ask me to drop everything to help you? Why should I?”

  “I’m not asking you to drop anything,” he growls, taking a step forward as though Shanae isn’t even with us. “All I want is someone in my corner while I get through this.” A bitter laugh snorts from his nose. “You think it’ll be easy to clean up after this long? You think I’m going to have a walk in the fucking park?”

  “I never said you would.” My eyes narrow on his rugged features. “And that’s entirely my point. You’re going to need someone to nurse you, to coach you, to be your strength when you want to fold. You’re asking me to set aside my goals while I help you with yours.” I swallow before adding, “Again.”

  “Forget it then.” He slaps a large palm to his denim-clad leg. “Come on, buddy.”

  “Stay.” Shanae darts to block the door. “Please. I don’t know why we’re your best choice, Emery, but I don’t turn friends away.” Her gaze shifts over his shoulder to land squarely on me. “No matter how mad I am at them.”

  He huffs, turning to look at me as though to check if he should listen to her or not.

  “Fine.” I throw both hands in the air, leg kicking out to carry me to my bedroom. “Do whatever the fuck you want. “You do anyway,” I add with a mutter.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Emery

  “Girl All the Bad Guys Want” – Bowling for Soup

  Shanae left the house half an hour after I arrived, saying something about needing to pop out for essentials. She can go wherever the fuck she pleases; it’s none of my business. Don’t know why she felt the need to let me know.

  What is my business is that two hours later, Alice still hasn’t left her room. I drank most of the coffee pot; whatever’s left has long gone cold. She needs to come out and eat soon.

  Surely.

  “What?” I frown at Mosaic, where he lies on his bed, happy now that I dragged it in from the truck. “You think I should help myself?”

  My gut rumbles; the sheer amount of caffeine I drank turned it into a swirling pit of nausea. There’s only so many cigarettes I can suck back before they don’t hold off the cravings anymore.

  I didn’t bring any food with me; I figured I’d see what the girls have and go from there.

  I never entertained the idea that
Alice might turn me away. But I guess it makes sense. A headstrong girl like her wasn’t exactly likely to let me get what I want without a fight after the way I treated her at my parents’ place.

  I deserve whatever she has to dish my way and let’s face it, I’ve had way worse from Deanna.

  This shit should be a cakewalk.

  Mosaic lifts his big head; ears perked while he watches me move toward the short hallway. I tread carefully, fingertips trailing the textured wallpaper as I make my way down to her room. The door is ajar, the sound of her tapping on a keyboard all that I can make out from inside.

  My knuckles hit the thin board of her door, pushing it open in the process. “Hey.”

  Alice sits cross-legged in the center of her bed, head down and back curved as she huddles over a small laptop that’s seen better days. Stickers cover the lid in a tangled montage of band logos small and large.

  I note the earbuds pressed firmly in place and take a step into her haven. “You hungry?”

  Her shoulders rise and fall with a slow draw; lips pressed firmly in a flat line. This time I know that she heard me.

  “What you doin’?”

  She tears the buds out with an angry swipe of her right hand and glowers my way. “Do you need anything?”

  “Wondered if you wanted me to make you some lunch?”

  “With my food?” She tilts her head to one side, eyebrow raised.

  “Or I can head out and pick something up.”

  The steel façade cracks, her upper lip twitching as she darts her gaze back to the laptop. “I’m fine.”

  “You haven’t eaten since I got here.”

  “I said, I’m fine, Emery.”

  My gaze roams over her bed, and around each of the little markers of her personality she’s decorated the space with. A photo frame adorned with pieces of old keys; an Iron Maiden flag draped loosely above the headboard of her bed; a framed print of her first concert poster.

  How do I know it’s her first? I was there with her.

  Nearly a decade has passed, and yet at face value, Alice is still the same woman I knew all those years ago.

  Woman. Yeah. Not really. She was a girl then—the perfect girl.