Legacy by M.A. Foster

_____________________________

Dylan

Stepping inside my apartment, I toss my keys and wallet into the decorative bowl on the console table before heading to the living room with my take-out container from Mac’s. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, I drop down on the sofa and aim it at the TV, needing some background noise before digging into my food.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out to see Alex calling. I tap the green icon, switch it to speaker, and toss it on the cushion beside me.

“What’s up, ‘Sexiest Rock Star on the Planet?’” I tease as I pop a fry into my mouth.

Alex chuckles into the phone. “You know better than to read that shit.”

Earlier this year, Alex, Jay, and the rest of the members of Royal Mayhem walked the red carpet at the Grammys. It was Jay’s first time in the public eye, and the band introduced Alex as their new lead singer. The media went nuts. Then shit hit the fan when a blogger outed Alex as Marcus’s son.

“And waste an opportunity to rag the fuck out of you?” I laugh. “How’s it going?”

Alex and Jay are currently on tour with Royal Mayhem promoting Marcus’s farewell album, Jaybird. It was the album he and Jay had been recording that summer three years ago.

“It’s been… interesting. Jay is struggling during her downtime. She hates being on the road. She’s never been away from her mom for this long, and, of course, she misses Zach. Chaz was being a dick, telling her to suck it up and stop being selfish, that this tour was the least she could do to honor her father’s memory.”

Chaz is the guitarist and keyboardist for Royal Mayhem, and he’s always been a dick, especially to Emerson, but I’m shocked he spoke to Jay that way. She has a temper, and if pushed too far, she’ll come at you swinging with everything she’s got. Like Cole. She’s been through a lot these last couple years. Her father’s death took a toll on her mental health, which landed her in a wellness center for six weeks.

I whistle through my teeth. “I can only imagine how well that went over,” I say as I bite into my chicken sandwich.

“It was a fucking shitshow,” Alex continues. “Jay blew a gasket and threatened to kick Chaz off the tour. Bass stepped in and asked him if he had a death wish. Then Chaz and Andrew got into a screaming match. After everyone calmed down, Jay and Chaz took a walk, and when they got back, all was good.” He pauses a beat. “I’m not defending Chaz’s behavior, because he was definitely out of line, but I think everyone’s emotions are running high on this tour. Marcus was their leader, bandmate, and brother for over twenty-five years. When this is over, we all go our separate ways. Andrew is managing Lucas’s career. Tommy has a family. Chaz has his parents and a brother he sees twice a year. The man is in his forties, never married—probably because no woman wants to put up with his shit—and no kids that he knows of. This band is literally all he has.”

“Maybe if he’s really nice to Jay, she’ll give him a job at King Records answering phones or something,” I joke.

Alex bursts out laughing. “She would get a kick out of that one. Enough about our drama. How are you doing today?”

Alex is so much like Marcus, from his talent to his loyalty to friends and family. We might not be related by blood, but he’s my family. My brother. My best friend. My rock.

A smirk pulls at my lips. “Are you worried about me?”

“Do I need to be?”

“Nah. I’m good. I decided to pull my head out of my ass today.” I shove the last of my sandwich into my mouth and chew.

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Mimi asked me today if we could have lunch soon, which means she smells blood in the water. I’m sure my father already told her everything. Those two gossip more than teenage girls. It’s only a matter of time before she comes at me with a dozen questions I don’t want to answer. I just want to put it to rest and move on. So I went to the cemetery and said everything I needed to say. I feel one hundred pounds lighter.”

“I’m happy to hear it. What about Cole?”

There’s some commotion on the other end of the line, and then Jay’s voice comes through the speaker. “Yeah, what about Cole, Dylan? I spoke to my husband earlier, and he filled me in.”

“Since when did your husband become the town gossip?”

“Unlike the rest of my family, my husband does not keep secrets. Jesus, is there anyone left in this family who isn’t hoarding secrets?”

I laugh. “There’s still hope for Aiden and Willow.”

“Give it time,” she quips.

“You’re one to talk, Miss Eloped While Still in High School,” I snark.

“Mrs.,” she corrects. Little smartass.

Zach and Jay flew to St. Thomas over spring break and eloped on the beach. They were both of legal age but still technically in high school. They kept it a secret until the press got wind of the story and blasted it all over social media. It was a PR nightmare, and Emerson was furious. So in order to make it right, they had a formal wedding back in June.

“Zach said Cole is pissed.” She tsks. “It all makes sense now, why you’ve been an ass to Cole all these years.”

I toss the Styrofoam container onto the coffee table and pick up my phone. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs. “Are you mad at him?”

“No.”

“Then why were you so angry?”

“Because I was grieving. I came home to find out the girl I was in love with had died and her baby daddy was my little brother. Just saying it out loud sounds so—”

“Jerry Springer? Maury Povich? Dr. Phil?” she adds.

“Yeah.”

“I understand, but how could you carry that kind of heartache around all this time and not be sick over it? Why not just tell Cole the truth?”

“We all respond to grief differently. You of all people should understand that.”

“Of course I do. I have a master’s degree in grief.”

I shake my head. This girl. “Telling Cole the truth would’ve been like pouring salt into the wound. Why add more guilt and heartache to an already sensitive situation?”

“I guess.” She hums. “Seriously, though. Are you okay? I know I’m a little late to the party, because I’m always the last to know,” she drawls, and I can picture her narrowing her eyes at Alex.

Because Jay struggled with the fact that her father was dying, Marcus and Emerson decided not to tell her about Alex. Marcus didn’t think the time was right, and Emerson respected his wishes. Alex wasn’t happy about it, but how could he argue with a dying man? So she had to find out the truth the same way the rest of the world did.

“I’m good, Jay. It’s time to move on.” I blow out a breath. “I promise I’ll make it right with Cole.”

“Good. And I don’t mean to sound like a nag, but you should probably do it before Mimi finds out there’s a rift in the family.”

“Do you honestly think she doesn’t already know?” I ask with a chuckle.

Jays snorts a laugh. “Truth. Good luck with that.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

A text notification from Elaina drops down from the top of the screen. I tap the screen, and it opens to her text. WYD?

‘What are you doing’ is Elaina’s code for I want to fuck.

“Hey, I gotta go. Tell Alex to call me later, and try not to kill Chaz.”

“I make no promises. Love you. Mean it,” she rushes out before hanging up.

I shoot a text back to Elaina.

Me: You in 30 mins.

Elaina: On my way!

* * *

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend, Dylan?” Elaina asks, popping a chip into her mouth.

I’m beginning to think she’s using me for my snack foods and my dick is just a bonus.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” I counter.

“What if I want you to be my boyfriend?” Her lips twist to the side in amusement as she dips her hand inside the chip bag.

I raise my brows. “Is that what you want?”

“Fuck no.” She throws her head back and laughs, and I grin, relieved. Elaina is fun, and I love that she’s confident and comfortable in her skin, but I can only take her in small doses. “No offense. The sexual chemistry between us is off the charts, but being in a relationship with you would drive me insane.”

“Ouch,” I say with a chuckle. “No offense taken.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She reaches over to set the bag on the nightstand, then moves to straddle my hips. The feeling of skin on skin, her pussy against my lower stomach, makes my dick hard. I slide my hands up her thighs. “In high school, I saw you as the bad boy, quiet and broody. Unattainable.” She trails a finger over my collarbone and down the center of my chest. “I always wondered what you were thinking about.”

“Pussy,” I quip, and she rolls her eyes.

“I had the biggest crush on you,” she admits.

“You had a boyfriend,” I remind her.

“You were a heartbreaker, hooking up with a different girl every weekend. The boyfriend was safe.”

“You of all people should know most high school gossip is bullshit, and your boyfriend cheated on you.”

“Which gave me a good excuse to ask you to take me to prom. You have no idea how nervous I was.”

I smirk. “You promised to sit on my face. I would’ve taken you anywhere.”

“We’ve been doing this on and off for what? Seven years? If you wanted to date me, you would’ve asked me by now.”

I reach up and pinch her nipple. “Don’t turn this around on me. You’ve had many boyfriends in the span of seven years.”

“And you had girlfriends.”

“I had one girlfriend.”

“I think you know as well as I do that outside the bedroom, we wouldn’t work.”

“We wouldn’t. You’re too high maintenance for me.” I laugh, flinching when she smacks me on the chest.

“Asshole.” She snorts. “You’re not wrong, though.” She tilts her hips and slides her pussy over my rock-hard dick. “Do you want to go again?”

I roll us over and settle between her legs. “Depends. Are you gonna eat all my fucking food?”