Rock Him (2 page)

“God. Yes. Thanks, Kate.”

There was a long pause.

“Asher?”

“Yeah?”

Kate waded in. “We’re here for you. Anything you need. Anything. Help. Visits. We
loved Dee. You know we love you and Ella. And we understand your feelings toward your
father.”

Only a handful of people knew about his conflict-ridden relationship with his father;
Sterling and Asher put on a good front in public.

He loved Ella because she was his sister’s kid, but he had no interest in kids of
his own. None at all. Not now at any rate. But Ella? My God. And his dad? No fucking
way. He would not have her grow up the way he and Dee had, in a fractured family with
a distant, disinterested parent. He would get the best people. He could set her up
with a full-time nanny, the best schools.
He
could figure it out, not his dad.

Asher swallowed convulsively. “I know, Kate.”

“We’ll see you in a few hours, we’ll be flying in from Cielito.”

“See you in Vegas.” Asher disconnected the phone and buried his face in his hands,
finally giving in to grief.

The limo glided through the wrought iron gates and up to Sterling’s estate. Asher’s
lip curled into a sneer. The twenty-million-dollar mansion jutted into the cloudless
sky like a child’s metal dump truck left upended in a sandbox. The modern exterior
was all hard angles and sharp lines.

He didn’t see the appeal — not in the stark house or the desiccated landscape. As
far back as Asher could remember, when his old man wasn’t working, he was either at
the country club, the nearest casino, or on vacation with a wife or girlfriend. Anywhere
but home with his kids. Sterling could live wherever the hell he wanted, but Ella
didn’t belong here. A wide limestone path sliced the yard and ascended to a double-door
entry. Terraced retaining walls flanked the steps and outlined shrub-strewn patches
of gravel filled with spiky yucca and sharp-edged palms. Hell, a child wouldn’t even
be
safe
here.

The limo stopped. He grabbed his bag from the seat and got out without waiting for
the driver. Asher waved a dismissal, and the driver got back in the car and put it
in gear, leaving him standing in the brutal mid-morning sun. He groaned and squeezed
his eyes shut, fumbling his sunglasses into place as he tried to blink away the headache
that threatened to re-emerge.

During the hour-long flight to Vegas, his hangover had dissipated enough for him to
pull himself together and contact his lawyer. Once things were moving on the legal
front, he’d skimmed the information Kate had emailed.

Jesus, how did anyone tell a five-year-old such devastating news? It was going to
be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

He climbed the steps two at a time and rang the bell. Rubbing a hand over his unshaven
jaw, he realized he probably looked as bad as he felt. His jeans had an unidentifiable
stain on one knee, and his oldest Metallica tee was wrinkled from spending last night
balled up in a corner of his bedroom. The sickly stench of stale booze and sex oozed
from his pores in the arid heat. Nothing like living down to the old man’s expectations.

Sterling answered, eyes red-rimmed from weeping, his face ashen under his golfer’s
tan. “Asher.” His father took a half step toward him through the doorway.

Asher took a step back.

Sterling Lowe sighed and pushed the door further open behind him. “Come on in.”

Asher walked into the house, closed the front door and followed his father to the
living room.

“So, what happened?” Asher asked.

“She was on her way home from a girls’ night, a weekend actually. She had a drink
or two early, but her blood alcohol was nil. She rarely drank anymore. No drugs. Nothing.
You know she got away from all that before she had Ella.”

Asher nodded.

“Some drunk crossed the line and hit her, head-on. They tell me she was killed instantly.”
Sterling rubbed his unshaven face.

“Driver still alive?”

“Of course and it wasn’t his first offense. He’ll be in prison for a long time.”

“So, Ella’s been here a few days?”

“Yeah. I have her here as often as I can, which isn’t often enough. I’ve become really
close to both of them,” Sterling said. “You may think it’s too little, too late.”

Asher shrugged, and crossed the room to the window where he studied the landscape.
He gritted his teeth. All the feelings he had ferociously quashed were leaking through.

“I’m sorry, son. I know I was a lousy — ”

Nausea rose up, bringing his past with it. He turned away from the window and gave
his father a look through narrowed eyes. “Now’s not the time.”

He was the only child now, the only heir. No matter. He had dashed his father’s dreams
for a family succession of the business more than fifteen years ago. About the time
Sterling had thrown his considerable weight around, leaning on people to cancel Spade’s
early gigs. Luckily, Canadian promoters had balls, or who knows if his band would
have ever made it. It had occurred to him on the flight that Sterling might want to
mend fences with his sole surviving offspring. His lips twisted. Dear old Dad wouldn’t
feel that way for long, not after the lawyers arrived. Asher hadn’t been as close
to Dee in the last year or two, and he laid that directly at his father’s door. Dee’s
endless efforts to bring about reconciliation between the two had caused a growing
rift. His sister was short on memory and long on forgiveness. Asher was hanging on
by a thread. He would deal with the yawning pit of howling rage and despair later.
After they told Ella.

Sterling walked over to the far side of the room and poured an amber colored liquid
from the crystal decanter on the sideboard. He offered it to Asher. “Hair of the dog?”

Asher stiffened. So his father had noticed. Not surprising. The hangover had barely
ebbed, but he was not a proponent of that remedy. That path led to doom. “God, no.”
Asher walked over to the couch while his father settled himself into a straight-backed
chair with his drink. “Where’s Ella?”

“In the pool. The housekeeper is watching her for a bit while we talk.”

Asher ran a trembling hand through his hair. “So, listen, I talked to my friend, a
nurse who deals a lot with grieving families; she’s an expert with this kind of thing.
I gotta tell you, Sterling, it’s going to be bad. Real bad.”

“I could’ve told you that,” his father replied shakily and took a healthy swallow
of the Scotch.

Asher relayed what Kate had told him about the way five-year-olds handle death. Then
he dropped his bombshell. “I’m taking Ella back to Los Angeles with me after the funeral.”

The older man gasped and reared back, stretching out a hand as though to ward him
off. “
No
, Asher, no, she’s all I have.”

Asher’s mouth tightened.
Nice
.

“That came out wrong,” his father’s voice hoarsened, “I didn’t mean that. But you
don’t know what she means to me — what I mean to her, and she
knows
me.”

“She knows me, too, and it’s what Dee wanted.”

His father shook his head and put down the drink on the end table. “No. Well, maybe
when Ella was first born, before I reconnected with them … but not anymore. I
know
Ella, son, and she knows me. I’ll care for her. You haven’t even been around — ”

“Thanks to
you
. Dee may have wanted you in her life. I don’t.

“But your lifestyle … you
can’t …
” He trailed off as Asher’s brows shot up. “Asher.” Sterling’s voice was stronger
now and he leaned forward and stretched out a beseeching hand. “You are not …
capable
of taking care of a five-year-old girl.”

Asher got to his feet. Heat surged through him as his heart rate kicked up two notches.

“Fuck you, Sterling. I’m a helluva lot more capable than you. Dee and I had years
of your brand of parenting. You think I would subject my sister’s — ” His voice cracked.
He took a moment to gather himself and when he spoke again he had himself under control.
“If you think I’d give you the opportunity to neglect another child, you are out of
your goddamn mind.”

“Asher,
please
. It’s not just the life you live. It’s the attention you draw. Do you really think
it’s fair to Ella to expose her to that? To the scum that follow you around, taking
photos, invading your privacy — the groupies, the hangers-on? Taking her with you
will invite all of that into her life and she doesn’t deserve it, Asher.”

Lips pressed together in an implacable line, Asher turned and strode out of the room.
He paused only to grab his bag as he took the stairs two at a time to the upper level.
He pushed open a door he thought he remembered led to a guest room and threw his things
on the bed.

Fuck!

He hadn’t even considered that. The publicity. There was no way he could allow her
to be photographed and gossiped about. He paced the room. He’d just have to change
things up. Dial down the lifestyle a couple of notches. Part of marketing and promoting
Spade was being seen living the life. It had been years since he’d been overly enthused
about the trappings. He’d just have to be careful — really careful — to shield Ella
from all that. Hell, he wasn’t the only celebrity to ever have a kid.

Should he go to a hotel? Nah. Ella was here and she needed to get used to him. He
could survive the two days in his father’s house. Barely. He’d spend time with Ella
and avoid his dad.

The lawyers would work it out. He was still the legal guardian for Ella and trustee
for the estate. If Dee had made changes to the will he urged her to set up when she
discovered her pregnancy, he would’ve been notified.

So Sterling fancied himself a paragon of parenting now? Asher snorted. Screw him.
Sure, Dee told him Sterling had changed. Asher was no fool. The old man was getting
lonely in his old age. So what? His father had always been a selfish, manipulative
bastard.

An hour later Asher had showered and lay on the bed, unable to sleep.

There was a rap at the door.

Sterling’s voice came through. “Asher? The therapist is here. It’s time.”

Telling Ella was brutal. A dim sense of unreality set in as Asher held a confused,
weeping Ella on his lap. The questions from the child came thick and fast. Questions
that had no answers.

“But why can’t she come back?” Ella whispered.

“I’m sorry, love. There was a car accident and her body stopped working, and she died.
She can’t come back,” Sterling said.

Asher rubbed a hand over his eyes to disperse the moisture gathering.

“Can’t we visit? I really want to see her.” Ella insisted.

“Ella, she’s gone, honey. She can’t come back. We can’t visit her. We can only remember
her.” Asher looked at the therapist, who gave him a nod.

Ella shook her head. “Then who is going to take care of me?”

Asher exchanged a look with his father over her head. Sterling seemed a decade older
than his seventy years, his countenance ravaged by grief and sleeplessness.

“I am,” Asher said. “I’m going to take good care of you, honey.” He held her small,
warm body close.

Ella pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “What about Grandpa?”

“I’ll see you, sweetie.” Sterling pressed his lips together, then lowered his head
and put a hand to his brow, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Asher tightened his grip.

The child twisted. “Hey, Uncle Asher.”

He relaxed his arms. “Oh, sorry Ella.”

The therapist spoke. “Ella, your uncle and grandpa are sad that your mommy died, too.
It’s okay for everyone to feel sad and cry. It doesn’t feel good when someone you
love dies.”

After the woman left, Sterling tried to tempt Ella to eat with an assortment of cheeses,
some kind of fish-shaped crackers, and sweets. No dice. His father put in an animated
movie and settled Ella on his lap, where she sat with a small, ratty blanket, sucking
her thumb, listless.

When it came time for Ella to go to bed, she begged his old man to lie down with her.
Sterling’s accusing expression met Asher’s even gaze. Asher carried her little weeping
body to her bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. His father took off his shoes
and laid down next to the child, gathering her close.

Asher switched off the light and pulled the door behind him as he went back downstairs.

Was he doing the right thing
?

He gave himself a shake. Of course he was.

• • •

A quick glance at the clock the next day indicated it was nearly noon. Asher grunted
and rolled out of bed, heading for the shower. He considered his father as he studied
the Moroccan tile walls of the shower, the hot water pulsing down from some fancy
gadget above his head. Hard to believe a man so savvy in his business dealings could
be so foolish where women were concerned.

Asher’s mother Jacqueline — the scion of old Hollywood money — was beautiful and spoiled,
manipulative and narcissistic. Sterling’s second, brief union with a much younger
woman had produced no offspring, thankfully. Delilah’s mother, Katherine, was arguably
the best of the lot. She was a gifted horsewoman; unfortunately, she didn’t have a
nurturing bone in her body, at least not for two-legged creatures. She and Dee had
a cordial relationship — and that was largely due to Dee’s nature — but there was
no way she would want or get custody of Ella. She may have seen her granddaughter
once — twice at the most.

When Asher walked into the living room twenty minutes later, his father eyed him from
the recliner, laptop open. Asher greeted Ella where she sat working on a puzzle with
a kiss on the top of her head, and gave his father a nod before heading in search
of coffee.

In the kitchen an array of breakfast foods were laid out on the enormous marble island.
Ignoring the food, he spied the coffee maker. Full. Good. He needed his wits about
him for what was coming. He pulled out his phone. There were a number of missed text
messages and voicemails. He ignored them, scrolling through until he found the one
that mattered. His lawyer and the other attorney were on their way to the house.