Rise by Cassandra Robbins
RHYS
Past – Twenty-seven years old
Burbank, California
“Gia.” I take her hand and her eyes dart to mine. We landed about a half hour ago. I don’t think she sat still the entire flight. I finally ate her cunt and fucked her to calm her down enough to sit and have champagne with me.
Christ, now that we’re pulling into the old neighborhood, with Gia’s nervous energy along with my mom’s house looming ahead, I realize we should have stayed locked up in our suite.
“Babe, what are you looking for? Do you seriously think your brother is following us?” I’m trying to be patient since I think she might actually think that. Which pisses me off. This is exactly why we’re doing this. All this sneaking around stops today. Axel doesn’t like it, I guess we can fight it out. Won’t be the first time I’ve punched his sanctimonious face.
I take her cold hand and rub my thumb back and forth where my Christmas gift dangles on her wrist. I got her a diamond Rolex. Diamond is her birthstone. I wanted something special, something she can have forever, pass down to our kids if we get that far.
I was feeling pretty good about mine until she gave me hers and that made me falter. Because the thing about gifts is how the right one can touch you, make you feel all sorts of emotions.
Gia gifted me with a glimpse inside her head and heart. She made me a book with her photographs, starting with the present and going back to when she was a brat in dirty clothes taking pictures of us in her garage. I’ve been blessed to win every type of award imaginable. But holding her gift brought home the reality that she’s the one.
For the first time in my life, I’m thinking about my future, and it has nothing to do with my career. I’m seriously thinking about taking some time off after this tour.
Maybe I’ll take Gia to Italy or southern Spain and lock us away, just fuck, write music, eat, and drink. Lie in the sun and let her tell me all the wonderful things she sees out of that lens. From the second I saw her dancing with Nuke, I knew she was it for me. I’ve been self-medicating myself as if I was waiting for her to grow up. And now that I have her, I have no intention of letting her go.
She’s my muse.
My life.
My anchor. Gia, who keeps me sane when my world wants to fuck me up. If I was good, I’d encourage her to finish college. But to be honest, I’m a selfish fuck, and with my connections, school is foolish. Especially with her talent. It’s raw and unique. Going back would only stifle her creativity. She needs to travel, continue developing her own style, not be molded into something someone else has already perfected.
“I’m being ridiculous, I know. I have no idea what I’m looking for.” She takes a deep breath. “I love you, no matter what happens today, and I’m sure nothing will, but if something does, I love you.” She tries to smile but it’s strained. She looks down at her new watch as if it’ll calm her.
My lips twitch. She’s adorable. “Gia Fontaine?” I say as the SUV pulls into her mom’s driveway.
“Yeah?” She leans into me; her green eyes blink and I know she desperately wants to hear the words. And I will say them, but not in her mom’s driveway.
I reach over and rub her lips with my thumb. “I’m crazy about you.” That will have to do for now. Her eyes reveal hurt and confusion, but we have all the time in the world. I’m not rushing it.
A cough from the driver interrupts us. She pulls back as if she’s only now remembered we’re not alone.
“Sorry to interrupt, but are you going to need me to wait, Mr. Granger?” He turns to look at us.
“What do you want to do?” I ask.
She puts a hand through her hair then rubs under her eyes. “Um. Dinner and that’s it. I don’t have a good feeling about any of this.” She points at her mom’s house, then digs in her bag, retrieving some lip gloss.
“Do I look okay?”
I grin at her. “Relax. You look like my girl. Now, let’s do this.”
“Yes, let’s get it over with.” She flings open the door as I lean forward to the driver.
“Give us a couple hours and then we will head back to the tarmac.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks, man.” I open my door as he jumps out to finish opening it for me. I hold up my hand.
“You don’t have to do that.” I glance around the old neighborhood. All the yards still have green lawns. Most are decorated for the holidays.
“I just want to say it’s an honor to meet you. Huge fan.” He nods at me, then Gia. “The TSM and Humanoid albums are my all-time favorites. They kind of changed my life.” He nods.
“Thanks, brother.” Sadly, I’m jaded. I will not be surprised at all if tonight or tomorrow I’m all over ET or the tabloids. I can see it now: Has the Rock God finally found his goddess? Is it true love or another notch in his belt?
“Gia?” My eyes turn to the old couple on the sidewalk.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Dorsey.” Gia smiles but her tone is clipped. I don’t blame her. It’s been years, but Mr. Dorsey never has been the cliché old man. I can’t remember how many times he called the cops on us for noise pollution.
“Gia, darling. Thank goodness you’re alive.” Mrs. Dorsey glares at us.
“What?”
“Your mother has been sick with worry. We thought you were kidnapped.” Mr. Dorsey zeros in on me.
“Oh God. No, I was not kidnapped, it was a misunder—”
“You look familiar.” His old eyes shift up and down, taking in my appearance. Clearly, he disapproves since his wrinkles deepen.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Dorsey. It’s Rhys Granger.” I hold out my hand knowing he recognizes me, but he’s old so I’ll humor him.
They both stare at me, their little dog running around barking at us as I put my hand down and turn to the driver.
“You can go get some food. I’ll text you if I need you sooner.” My voice gets louder as I try to speak over the loud growling and high-pitched barking from their little rat dog.
“Okay well, Merry Christmas.” Gia waves at them and I smile, placing my hand on her lower back to get us away from them.
“Boy.” That stops me. I lift an eyebrow at his gall. I’m not a boy, nor am I in the mood for what I know is coming.
“You hold up. I have things I need to say to you, and I don’t care one bit that you’re some hotshot singer.” He snorts, contempt oozing from his mouth. “Your mother needs you. She’s sick, and with all that money of yours, you’d think you could do better by her. I’m done calling 911 all the time.” He points an old arthritic finger at me, then takes his wife’s arm to continue walking down the sidewalk, their football dog still barking at the air.
“The fuck?” I mutter, my face flooding with heat. My head pounds and my pulse feels like it will bust out of my temples.
Last report on my mom was that they were changing her meds and a new doctor was needed. I turn as if I’m in a tunnel. My eyes focus on the house three doors down across the street.
The grass is green and flowers are blooming. I’ve hired people to fix it, paint it white with cute yellow shutters. Red roses climb and drape around the top of the archway joined with red and purple bougainvillea.
It sure as hell looks like a dream house compared with the run-down mess I grew up in.
“This was a mistake.” I stare at the house. I thought I was beyond this. But no matter how big I get, all I am is a fucked-up kid running from the past, staying one step ahead of my demons. This place lets them free. They can swarm and infiltrate my brain here. After all, this is where they live.
“I have to call Rafe. Do you see any paparazzi?”
“Rhys?” Like a soothing warm blanket, she touches my hands, my face.
“You don’t need to call Rafe.” Her voice brings my eyes to hers. Her green eyes are clear, holding no judgment. Gia understands my pain, always has, yet never have I felt shame about my mom with her.
“You want to go?” My eyes look down at her hopeful ones.
I grab her, pulling her tight. “I need you,” I say, my voice rough. Taking her hand, I glance around for a spot where I can fuck her. Maybe her body will take my mind’s poisons away.
She nods, her eyes reflecting that same pull, craving, our own personal hunger.
I turn, only to halt. Janet Fontaine stands watching us, her eyes narrowed almost to slits as she shades her face with a hand.
“Rhys.” She sounds shocked as she drops her hand. She’d be beautiful like her daughter if she didn’t always look like she had the weight of the world on her.
“Oh, Gia. I just can’t believe this.” She holds open the door and steps aside rather dramatically, but whatever. Let’s get this over with. Gia was right. This was a mistake, but we’re here, and hopefully I won’t have to come back for years.
“I now understand why you don’t want my son over for dinner,” she snips as I step inside. I bite the inside of my mouth to stop from snarling that I’d fucking love to beat the shit out of her son right about now.
“Take it easy, Mom. I can explain everything—” Gia’s voice trails off as we both take in the inside of the house.
It looks like Janet has decided to move to the North Pole and become an elf in Santa’s workshop. I shit you not, there’s fake snow, a long wooden table with wooden toys, paint, glitter, and fucking elves everywhere.
“Oh my God…wow, Mom.” Gia looks around as Janet walks by and grabs her glass of white wine.
“I had to do something or go mad with worry.” She says all this as if it’s normal to make your living room look like this.
She sits on the white couch, which has a blanket saying Santa’s, and I wonder if she thinks she’s Mrs. Claus as she reaches for a red-striped pillow to put behind her back.
“What is happening?” Gia mumbles as she tosses a few elves aside so we have a spot to sit.
“Janet, I’m sorry if Gia scared you.” I lean forward, my hands resting on my knees. “I’m assuming you have pieced together that Gia is with me—”
She holds up her hands. “When you say with you, like with… you?” She looks like she’s swallowed a bitter pill. “Or do you mean with the band? Taking pictures for the scholarship?”
“Oh God, really, Mom?” Gia’s eyes are huge as she stares at her mom.
I sit back. Christ, the way her disapproving eyes look at me, it’s like I’m ten again, begging her to let me stay for dinner since my mom has been gone for days. It’s fucked up. All of this is fucked. I’m one of the biggest musicians in the world. I work my ass off to be the best at what I do, and the way Janet is acting, it’s as if Gia and I are Bonnie and Clyde coming to dinner.
“Both.” My voice is clipped because I’m done. “There’s no scholarship. As for our relationship, that’s private. All you need to know is that I’ll take care of her.” The room is silent except for the soft sounds of Bing Crosby and reindeer bells that seem to be on replay.
“Jesus, Rhys,” Gia whispers. “Let me handle the rest.” She sits up and tosses her hair off her shoulder.
“Look, Mom. I…” She motions with her hand in a circular motion almost as if she’s strumming a harp. “I saw a fantastic opportunity and I took it.” Her cheeks turn red instantly. “Wait. That came out wrong.”
I frown and look at her. “What are you doing?”
She goes to open her mouth, but Janet jumps up. “Rhys Granger, don’t you dare snap at my daughter. You’re not the boss of her.”
Gia lets out a loud groan and I stare at Janet. I take a deep breath, smelling the ham cooking in the kitchen. If Gia doesn’t do some fast talking, I’m not even gonna make it to dinner.
“Mom, I’ve been lying from the beginning. I made it all up. There never was a scholarship.” She shakes her head. “I made that up because I knew you would never say yes to me touring with the band.” She holds up a hand. “Although, two of my professors are insane fans of Rhys and The Stuffed Muffins.”
She clears her throat. “I wanted Rhys. I wanted him and I was willing to lie so I could get to him.”
Janet sinks back down onto the couch. “Please, tell me you’re on birth control.”
Gia cocks her head at her. “Yes, Mom. I’m on birth control.” Her hand reaches for my leg and her mom’s eyes follow.
Janet takes a huge sip of her wine. “How do you think this can possibly work? He’s a star, Gia.” She laughs as she puts her glass on the coffee table. There’s a whole train set on it. Thankfully it’s not on, or I might toss it out the window.
“You’re coming back to college in two weeks. I don’t understand what you want me to say. I’m glad you finally caught Rhys’s attention. We all know you’ve been seeking it since you were a child. But”—her eyes drift toward me—“that’s all this is, a fascination with a hero that morphed into a young girl’s fantasy about a rock star. And since you knew him, you think he’s what you want. He’s not.” Her voice is flat. “Trust me.”
“Huh. Thanks for psychoanalyzing us, but you have zero idea what you’re talking about.” Gia leans down for her purse, grabbing her cigarettes. “I was gonna try to sugarcoat this.” She flicks the lighter as Janet looks like she might faint. “I’m not going back to Berkeley. I’m going to stay with Rhys because he’s my man.” She blows smoke up to the ceiling and my cock hardens. I’m a sick fuck, I guess.
Janet looks as if she might throw up. “You’re kidding me.”
“She’s not. I told you I’d take care of her.” I stand. This is about to get ugly. That, and it’s uncomfortable to sit. I’m not going to fight with Gia’s mother. This is her cross to bear. She’s disapproving, controlling, and judgmental. It’s why Axel was never close with her.
As a kid, I was jealous because at least she cared enough to be critical. But he was right—Janet hated the band. Always said we were average, at best, and needed to spend more time studying. And she really despised the Disciples. God, the first time she met Jason and David, I thought she was going to have a stroke.
“So, you’re engaged?” she says in a raised voice, her face going from sheet white to red and splotchy.
“Mom, relax. I understand that you’re in shock, but you need to stop. Don’t you want me to be happy?” Gia jumps up and goes to her mother.
“Happy?” She laughs. “You can’t be that stupid. Look at him. He will cheat on you, Gia. Drag you through things you can’t even imagine.”
She covers her mouth and shakes her head. “He says he’ll take care of you. Look at how he takes care of his own mother. When was the last time he checked on her? When?” She turns to me.
“I pay people an enormous amount of money to take care of her,” I say.
“Mom! How could you say that? You know Christie’s illness has nothing to do with Rhys.”
Gia looks at me, her eyes filled with tears, and there it is. Pity. I can take anything but having my girl look at me like that. My head is heavy, as if my neck can barely hold it up. Look how he takes care of his own mother…
“Rhys?” I walk past Gia, who tries to grab my arm. I need to get away or I will say something we all will regret.
“Rhys, I’m coming with you.” She lets go to get her purse. I turn to tell her to stay but her pain makes me stare, as fat tears spill down her cheeks. I catch one and take in her beautiful face.
Pain and tears.
Why do you make all the girls cry?
“I need some air.” She nods but digs her nails into my arm as I try to leave.
“You’re okay, right?” She’s borderline hysterical as her mom stands there and drinks.
“I’m fine. You stay and work this out with your mom. I have things I need to do.” I hadn’t planned this, but we can’t escape who we are.
“Not without me.” She shakes her head, panic in her eyes. “You need me,” she croaks.
“Let him go, Gia.” Janet’s voice makes me grit my teeth.
His own mother.
“I need to be alone, Gia.” I remove her hand. This time she doesn’t try to grab me again as I throw the door open.
She screams at her mother. I tune it out, letting it be my background music, angry and alive.
The sun is going down. Reaching into my pocket for a cigarette, I notice our black SUV and the driver sitting a couple of houses down. He waves. I light up and inhale.
Music fills my head; the tempo is set as verses write themselves.
Why do you make all the girls cry?
Nuke’s drums will take over, angry and powerful.
Ammo will make his guitar scream.
I bring out my phone and start to type as I sit on my grandfather’s porch. Like magic, the words appear:
Drops on the tile. Tears of red. Not good enough, that’s all she said.
All she said.
Take that muscle from my chest. You had it in your hand. In the year of the snake, you pounded it like dough.
Drops on the tile. Tears of red. Not good enough, that’s all she said.
My fingers can barely keep up.
An hour, maybe a minute, has gone by as I let myself purge. I reach for my cigarette, but it’s burned out along with the sun.
A car drives by, its headlights making me stand. It’s Christmas and I’m coming to see her, with nothing but a pack of cigarettes and my phone. I take a breath and knock on the door.