The Next Verse Page 2

  “He’ll never touch me the way you will. Please, don’t say no,” she pleads with me. As I walk to the door, she grabs me by the shoulder. “I need you. Stay and play.”

  “I’ve got to go.” Turning the handle of the door, she follows me into the waiting room, no clothes on.

  “If that’s the way you’re going to be, then fine. I’ll see you this time next week. You better show up or I’ll call Tommy and tell him you aren’t being compliant.”

  She always does this. Holds it over my head that she’s got the ultimate control over me. Tommy will kick me out of the band if he heard that I wasn’t following his orders and staying on the straight and narrow. One more chance is all I’ve got. I need to find a new shrink, even though it causes me physical pain to think about opening up to someone new. And truth be told, I don’t know how to quit her.

  Two

  Kingston

  Rehearsals the next day suck. I’m off the entire two hours, but do my best to plow through. My head is all over the map. All I can think about is how ashamed I am that I let Helena get to me yesterday and had sex with her again, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I’m powerless against this woman and have no idea how to change it. Thankfully, none of the guys ride me about how much I suck at practice.

  As soon as I tell everyone goodbye, Davies catches up to me and we leave together.

  “Hey, what’s up with you? Did you break things off with Helena?” he asks.

  Davies is one of my oldest friends and even though he seems a little flaky from time to time, he’s got one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know. And he’s extremely perceptive.

  “No, I want to break it off; I just can’t seem to figure out how. It’s inexcusable that she’s married. I don’t want to be the other man. Just because I have a reputation of being a playboy doesn’t mean I want to come in between someone else’s marriage.” And there’s the fact that since I’ve been with Helena, I haven’t slept with anyone else. I thought she was monogamous with me, too. What a joke.

  “Kick her to the curb. There’s way too many fish in the sea.” He pats me on the shoulder.

  “That’s the problem. All the fish don’t want me for me. They want to be with the lead singer of Lawless. They want my money and fame.” Helena knows all my secrets and wants me anyway. Fuck. I’m screwed. “Can we change the subject?”

  “Of course. How’s Dee?”

  I wish I could say good. I can’t. “I’m a match.”

  He stops walking to face me, his mouth falls open. “That’s amazing, man. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. I start the process tomorrow.” A sheen of cold sweat covers my body. I’m scared as fuck. I don’t do needles. Not since the last memory I have of my mother is of her dead with a needle sticking out of her arm. Nope. It’s not for me, but I’m sucking it up and doing it anyway for my baby sister.

  We get to our cars and stop next to my Porsche. “I’m going to go see Dee now.”

  Davies pushes his glasses up and smiles. “Tell her I say hello and hope she starts feeling better soon.”

  “Will do.”

  “And if you want to go out later, give me a call.” He puts his hand next to his ear, like he’s holding a phone.

  “Sounds good.” I duck into my car and close the door behind me.

  The ride to Pasadena’s apartment is short, but every time I go over to visit her, a pit forms in my gut. I hate seeing her sick. She was diagnosed with severe aplastic anemia six months ago.

  Dee has always been healthy and active. She started noticing unexplained bruises, fatigue, shortness of breath, and headaches. That’s when she went in and got tested. Her doctors aren’t sure how she contracted the disease, but they think it was from a medication or antibiotic she took in the past. The prognosis for her condition is not good, especially without a bone marrow transplant. Her best bet at a match was me, and thankfully I am.

  Her apartment is nice, but small. She lives with her boyfriend. He’s been good to her, but between her music teacher salary and his sous chef paycheck they barely make enough to get by. And she’s had to take leave from work. I’ve been there for her and helped pay for some of her expenses and the deductible for her medical treatment.

  Knocking on her door, I hear her voice faintly through the wood telling me to come in. A weight feels like it sits squarely on my chest when I see my once beautiful and vibrant sister lying on her couch, pale with dark circles under her eyes.

  “King, you’re here. Come have a seat.”

  “Do you need anything before I sit, something to eat or drink?”

  She gingerly moves to push herself up to a seated position and then attempts to stand, but being too weak, slouches back down to the couch.

  It takes half a second before I am right there next to her. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I guess I don’t have the energy to get up. Sorry, I would get you something to drink.”

  I shake my head. She always tries so hard to be strong, even now when she doesn’t have the strength. If she’d only let me do more for her. “Don’t be silly. That’s why I asked if I could get you anything.”

  Patting my knee, she says, “Sure. I’d love a glass of water.”

  “You got it.” Standing up, I go into her kitchen and hunt through her cupboards hoping to find her something appetizing. Just what I was looking for. Pouring her a glass of water, I take it and her treat into the living room.

  “Pop-Tarts. Strawberry, my favorite.” She grins, but her cheeks are sunken in from the weight she’s lost.

  “Do you have an appetite? How was chemo?” I ask.

  “It wasn’t bad.”

  She’s lying. She doesn’t want to burden me with her illness. I hate that she has to put her body through this, but it’s a way to empty out her non-working bone marrow to make room for mine. “Good. You tired today?” It’s a dumb question. She’s been exhausted for months.

  “No worse than normal.” I hate this fake small talk we’ve been reduced to. She wants to save me from all the gory details of her illness and I want to respect her choice to limit my exposure to all the negativity. We’ve lived through enough of that.

  Pasadena and I didn’t grow up like most people. Our mother, Joni, was a singer in a band. It had a couple hits in its heyday. They made just enough money for her to get a taste of expensive drugs and a lavish lifestyle. But when the money ran out, she took us around and we squatted wherever she could find her next hit. Neither of us have met our fathers. Mom told us that our dads wanted nothing to do with kids. Who knows if there’s any truth to that? She was always high or coming down or in rehab. Nothing the woman said could be trusted. Everyone knew she was nuts; I mean, who else names their kids after the cities they were conceived in?

  Growing up, Dee was the smart one. She helped me keep my head on straight. I barely made it through high school. The only thing that kept me going was my gift for music. If you put an instrument in front of me, it wasn’t long before I could play it, and play it well. The pianist in Joni’s band let me play his keyboard anytime I wanted to. It was less than a year until I could play Rachmaninov. At least one of Joni’s genes that she passed on to us was positive. Dee can play piano as well. She didn’t pick it up quite as quickly as I did, but she’s excellent and uses her abilities in a classroom to teach others.

  “Is Rick taking good care of you?” I ask.

  She smiles and her eyes light up. “He’s been wonderful.”

  Rick has been good to her. If one day they decide to get married, I would approve. He invites me over all the time for meals when I’m in town and I always take him up on it. He’s one hell of a cook.

  “What about you, King? You ready for tomorrow?” Her lips squeeze shut in a slight grimace. She knows how deep my fear of needles goes, but it’s a small price to pay for her life.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Truth be told, my hands start to go numb and tingle when I think about the process I’m going to have to go t
hrough. Tomorrow is the first of my five days’ worth of injections.

  She swallows hard. “You know how much I appreciate what you’re doing for me, right?”

  I hate the look of regret in her eyes—like this is somehow her fault. She didn’t choose this. And there’s nothing I won’t do to help heal her. “Stop, Dee. You know I would help you, no matter what. I’m not a religious man, but I know that a higher power was looking out for us when I found out I was a perfect match. Most people don’t get this lucky.”

  “Okay, enough mushy stuff,” she says. “You got time to hang out and watch a horror movie with me?” She opens the package of Pop-Tarts and takes a bite of one.

  “You’re damn right I do.” I pick up the remote and scroll through to Netflix.

  After lying in bed for hours, I decide to quit fighting it. My body isn’t going to sleep now. My head is all over the map thinking about Helena and my imminent date with a needle tomorrow.

  Strolling into my living room, I pick up my Gibson acoustic guitar. Strumming away, I play an older song from our playlist. Even though our band plays mainly rock, the sound of this song has a blues feel.

  It’s been too long since I’ve written something new, but I’ve been uninspired. Thankfully, I’m not the only band member that writes. Holt, who plays bass guitar, is an amazing writer. He’s married and they’ve been trying to get pregnant for a couple of years now. His songs can be dark and depressing, but the fans eat it up.

  Playing a few chords, I attempt to get some words down, but not a damn thing is coming to me. I’ve gone through this before. The last time I was in a short-term toxic relationship was with a woman who was a drunk. Maybe I do need to end things with Helena. Heartbreak is usually a source of inspiration for me.

  The kicker is, I just want to love her. Clearly, that’s not what she wants. She just wants to use me for what I do to her. And in some dark twisted way, I thought if I dominated her, she’d fall for me in return.

  Helena has tried calling me. I didn’t answer. If I take her calls, it’ll be more of the same. She’ll use what I’ve told her against me and persuade me back into her bed. And I’m so damn weak I’ll go running back to her. It’s bad enough that I have to go see her next week to keep Tommy happy. Maybe I should set up an appointment with someone else. But the thought of spilling my dirty little secrets to another human being scares the shit out of me. Look where it got me with Helena.

  Exhausted and frustrated, I put the guitar down and turn on the TV hoping it’ll give my mind a break from all the shit running through it.

  On the drive to the bone marrow center, adrenaline courses through me. My appointment is first thing this morning and I’m lucky if I got a couple hours of restless sleep last night. I drank a pot of coffee, which doesn’t help my sweaty hands grip the steering wheel. Even the radio isn’t soothing me today.

  Walking into the medical building, my heart pounds against my ribs. I’m doing this for Dee. I’m doing this for Dee, is the mantra I keep repeating as I check in at the front desk.

  “Oh my God. You’re Kingston Lawless. I thought there was a misprint on the schedule this morning. I didn’t believe it was you,” the perky brunette sitting in reception says.

  “That’s me.” I put my hands in my pockets so this girl doesn’t see how bad they’re trembling.

  “I love you guys. “Truth” is my favorite song. I’ve seen you in concert six times,” she blurts out and her cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. “Do you mind if I take a selfie with you?”

  Is this girl for real? Doesn’t matter where I go, fans are always so ballsy. “Um. Sure.”

  She stands up and pulls her phone out of her pocket, fluffs her hair up, and takes a picture. Her flash goes off nearly blinding me. “Thank you. You’ve made my day.”

  I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand and blink rapidly until I stop seeing dots. “No problem.”

  “You can have a seat and the nurse will be right out to take you back.”

  Choosing a chair close to the exit, I tap out a tune on my lap and bounce my foot against the floor. An older gentleman sitting across from me gives my feet an incredulous stare. I stop moving all together.

  “Kingston Lawless, you can come back now.” The voice is sweet. It’s coming from a petite nurse in pink scrubs. Her blond hair is piled high on top of her head.

  Taking more time than necessary, I make my way toward her.

  She gives me a once-over, paying close attention to the tattoos on my right bicep. “Hi, I’m Cam. I’ll be taking care of you today.”

  Something in her warm expression calms me. I follow her back into a treatment room and stand in the doorway. A menacing-looking syringe sits on the sterile table in front of me.

  “You know why you’re here, right?” She opens up a file on her tablet and starts tapping away.

  “Yes. To get a shot. I’m donating bone marrow to save my sister’s life.”

  She stops short and blinks at me a few times and looks back at the tablet again. “Yes.”

  My palms are damp and a cold sweat breaks out over my forehead. “Can I sit?”

  When her hazel eyes scan me, they widen and there are flecks of green. “Of course. Do you need some water? You just got pale on me.”

  “That might help.” Although I’m not sure anything will.

  She leaves the room momentarily and comes back with a cup of water. I immediately drink the whole thing. The cold does seem to help.

  “Better?” she asks.

  “A little.”

  “Want to come back tomorrow?”

  “Nope. It won’t matter. I don’t like needles.”

  She gets closer to me and lays her warm hand on my arm and gives it a squeeze. The gesture gives me a small sense of calm. “The medication I’ll be giving you today will stimulate your bone marrow to increase production of new stem cells.” She walks to the syringe and brings it over and sets it next to me. “The new stem cells will be released from the marrow and into your bloodstream. From there they’ll be collected so we can give them to your sister.”

  This information doesn’t help my nerves.

  “Are you going to be okay? You can lie down. You’ve got the option of where you’d like me to inject the medicine. Your abdomen, arm, thigh, or your buttock.”

  “I don’t want to see you do it. Go ahead and use my ass.”

  This grants me a beautiful smile, all white teeth and full lips. “Okay, turn around and rest your arms here on the exam table.”

  Doing as I’m told, I turn and get into position.

  “Can you take your pants down?” Her voice is tentative, almost shy.

  Whipping my pants and boxer briefs down to the floor, I stand here with my bare ass hanging out.

  “Oh, well. You didn’t need to take them all the way off. I just needed the upper corner of one cheek.” She sounds embarrassed now, which makes me chuckle.

  “It’s fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Okay, all set,” she says.

  Turning my head in her direction, she’s placing the needle in the sharps container. “Wait, that’s it? You’re finished? I barely felt anything.”

  “Yes. I’m done. You can pull your pants up now.”

  Hiking my pants back up, I can’t believe it. “You deserve an award or something. You did that so quickly I didn’t even really notice that you did it. I thought for sure I would pass out. Thank you so much.”

  “Thank you. I knew how nervous you were. I wanted to get it over with for you.”

  Overcome with appreciation, I grab Cam and pull her into a hug.

  “Oh, it’s okay. This is my job.” She giggles, but puts her arms around me. She smells like roses and summer and all that’s good in the world. And in the scrubs, I couldn’t tell that her breasts are full, but when they press into me, they’re soft against my chest. When I hold Helena, her implants are hard, with no give. This is nice.

  “Please say that you’ll be here tomorrow.
”

  She looks confused. “Yes, I work tomorrow.”

  “Good. I’m going to request that you be my nurse and give me the shot. I won’t be as nervous if I know it’s you.”

  Picking up her tablet, she heads toward the door. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll take care of you.” She gives me a grin. It’s playful, but serious at the same time. I wonder if this is how she always is. It’s like she’s showing me that she’s got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Hmm, I’m intrigued.

  Three

  Cam

  When the day finally comes to an end, I make my way to the front desk.

  “Okay, I want to hear everything. What’s he like?” Penny, my friend and receptionist at the office, asks.

  Rubbing my neck, I work out the tension of the day. “Who are you talking about?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Penny throws her head back, exasperated.

  “No, I have no idea who ‘he’ is.” I make air quotes with my hands and plunk down on the chair opposite of her behind the desk.

  She shakes her head at me with a disappointed scowl on her face. “Seriously, have you been living under a damn rock? I’m talking about Kingston Lawless. From the band Lawless.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. “Kingston is in a band?” How did I not know that?

  “Yes, a very popular band. I love their music. He sings and plays guitar. He’s like a rock god.” She’s scrolling through YouTube on her phone and pulls up a live video. “Look, this is them.”

  Holy shit. He is in a band. And, man, can he sing. “That’s why I don’t know who he is. I only listen to the country station.” My car is old and my radio sucks. It’s hard to reconcile that the man that was here today, scared shitless of needles and about to pass out, is the same man standing on stage belting out a song on Penny’s cell phone.