Stricken Unveiled (Stricken Rock #2) (3 page)

He opens his mouth. YUCK! It’s full of chewed
food. He closes it with a sly smile.

“You’re really disgusting you know that?”

“Hey, don’t hate it’s part of my charm.” He
says taking another bite.

“That’s not charm. If you think it is we need
to have your head examined pronto.” I kid and bite into a wing.
Yum! Spicy food in Cali is so much better than Indiana’s. I don’t
think I’ll ever get enough of it.

The TVs on with some news program. Stacy
watches the local news a lot. It makes my skin crawl so I put it on
ignore. Right now I focus on eating while he checks the football
stats and who gunned down who in the slums this morning. Back home
the news consists of ‘There was a man suspected of loitering
outside of Walmart today.’ But here it’s real news; shootings,
stabbings, carjacking’s, event headlines, the occasionally
do-gooder story and healthy eating tips.

It’s amazing how much different living in LA
is compared to Indiana. I’ve been exposed to a lot with living in
New York City but its way different here. The main difference is
that it is less crowded per capita and it’s cleaner. New York City
may have upsides but cleanliness isn’t one of them. Everywhere
around here has greenery and trees and its bright and sunny all of
the time. It has yet to rain since I moved in, and the bug
population is zilch. The people are less friendly and even less
polite. Just like New York in that sense. But in Indiana they
willingly let you talk in line at the supermarket for twenty
minutes with the cashier who you’ve just met. It’s slower paced and
more innocent in some respects. I wouldn’t say it’s better than
living in places like New York City or LA, it’s just different. It
will be a total culture shock for my mom when she eventually fly’s
out to visit. It’s a great melting pot in America with a vast
amount of ethnicities, races, religions, and sexual orientations.
Which I love! Living in Indiana I had one African-American in my
entire school. The worst part about rural ultraconservative America
is that homosexuality and racial couples are frowned upon. It’s
gotten better since I was a kid. But it’s ridiculous if you ask me.
The rest of the world can accept it and have gay pride parades but
good ol’ backwoods USA is still the home of outlandish 1800’s views
and prejudices.

What I don’t get is how I can accept and love
my best friend who how he put is ‘
an equal opportunity sex
connoisseur
’. Or that’s what he has been reiterating to me the
past few weeks when I give him shit for bringing another female
home to fuck in his bedroom right down the hall from mine. It’s not
that I care if he dips his stick in a plethora of pussy. I’ve known
that for years. But it’s the Kyle thing that bothers me. He’s
putting it off and I hate it. If I can accept him for who he is, I
think the rest of the world should too. But hey that’s my two
cents. I’ve said my peace.

“Are you going to eat that?” he asks reaching
his hand over to my plate to take the crust of my pizza. Which I
hate.

“Yeah, it’s all yours.”

He snatches up the two ends and dips them
like a bread stick into the ranch from the wings on his plate.
Feeding them into mouth one crunch at a time. He’s a barbarian when
he eats. I’m surprised he ever uses silverware. Elegant and refined
in some way’s Stacy is. Eating is not one of them.

I hear a car door shut outside. I sit up to
listen if it’s the neighbors or if James is back from the errands I
sent him on today, to get him away from me long enough that I could
go to the doctors without him. He’s still my bodyguard. Why I need
him? I have no idea. I’m in no danger. But Stacy refuses to relieve
him of his duties and Johnathan has no say until he gets out of
Passages on Monday. I have to pick him up at eleven.

What the hell! Someone is pounding furiously
on the front door.

“I’ll get it.” Stacy says throwing back the
blanket, setting his plate on the end table, and padding his way to
see who’s here.

“Hold your horses.” He shouts.

“Open the fuck up dude. Let me in.” I hear a
less than pleasant person say on the other side. I want to vomit at
the sound of his voice.

Stacy pulls the door open, and Deacon pushes
past him into the house.

“What the fuck D? Why are you here?” Stacy
asks with a less than happy tone.

“You haven’t been picking up your damn phone.
Have you seen the news?!” D nearly screams, he’s breathing hard and
his face is flush. Did he run here? No. I heard his car. He must be
that worked up over something. This is about to get
interesting.

“It’s on the charger and it’s after work
hours. I shouldn’t need my phone. I left it in the bedroom. Now
tell me what’s going on?” Stacy orders firmly. His mouth in a grim
taught line. I guess he despises D almost as much as I do.

Deacon runs his hands through his brown hair
and slows his breathing down. Stacy shuts the door and comes back
over to sit by me, pushing the blanket out of his way.

“Oh hey Em.” D waves just realizing I’m here
too. Gee thanks I must be invisible.

“Hi.”

“Out with it D, you come barging into my
house at seven in the evening. I want to know what’s up.” Stace
says, calmer this time.

Another car pulls up, a door slams and I hear
loud footsteps rapidly coming up the sidewalk. The front door
crashes open and ricochets against the wall. James dashes through
it, his gun out, locked and loaded pointed straight at us.

I gasp, and slump down into the couch,
covering my belly with my hands. Like that’s going to save me.

Once he sees D and all of us sitting on the
couch. He lowers his weapon slowly and holsters it.

“What the fuck James!” D yells.

“Sorry guys I just saw a car not on the
approved visitors list in the drive I couldn’t take any chances.”
James says breathing heavy, his arms hanging at his sides. You can
see the bulging of his thick veiny forearms. He’s tense.

“Yeah well… We weren’t expecting any company
or we would have told you. D just pulled up and was just about to
tell us what the hell he’s doing here unannounced.” Stacy barks,
none too happy.

Not that I blame him. I almost pissed myself
twice.

“I fucking called, douche bag.”

“If you’re going to talk to me that way in my
house dick wad I suggest you leave.” Stacy eyes the front door.
He’s so fucking pissed. I look over and see his hands fisting the
edge of the couch. His knuckles are white and the lines on his
forehead are showing his age. Which is rare.

“It’s okay Stace.” I soothe and sit up
rubbing my hand along his arm. He relaxes a bit with a loud
exhale.

“Okay sorry. Can I just show you guys what I
came here for?” D says waving his hand like Vanna White toward the
laptop on the coffee table.

Stacy reaches over and hands it to him.

D rounds the coffee table and sits next to
Stacy, the laptop propped up in his lap pulling something up to
show us. James comes over and sits on the arm of the sofa by
me.

“I’m sorry Miss Bronwyn.” He says lowly, his
face sullen with grief.

I reach out of my hand and lay it on his
thick muscled thigh. “It’s okay you were just doing your job.” I
smile reassuringly, and he drops his shoulders into a slump.

“I did get what you requested ma’am, it’s in
the car. I’ll go retrieve it now.” He stands and heads outside. His
head drooping the entire way. Poor James. He shouldn’t be so hard
on himself.

I return my attention to the men on the
couch. “HOLY FUCK!” Stacy yells staring at the monitor.

“What?” I ask, my heart picking up pace with
worry. I have no idea what’s going on and it doesn’t sound
good.

Stacy snatches the laptop off of D’s legs.
Placing it on his, he clicks a news clip posted to Entertainment
Tonight’s site. I lean in to watch.

A newswoman in a black dress suit comes on.
‘Is singer and rock star millionaire Johnathan Striker no longer
brooding alone in this world? Reliable resources report the rocker
is a dad in the making.’

My heart falls out of my chest and I think I
might cry. I gaze up at Stacy and his mouth is open, eyes wide.

How did they find out!?

I hold my breath.

‘In an interview this morning with the mother
to be twenty one year old Cassandra Buckley she has reported to us
that she is in fact six weeks pregnant with the famous rock stars
baby. After a one-night stand in her hometown of Washington D.C
just four short weeks ago. She also provided us with this picture.’
The screen pops up an ultrasound photo of a tiny fetus. Son of a
bitch! ‘Mother to be also reports she has explicit photos from the
night in question. But those cannot be released at this time. So
the question is will Johnathan Striker the lead singer of Stricken
be the man we all know him to be? Or settle down and raise a
family? I guess only time will tell.’

I exhale and tears are pouring down my face.
Stacy turns to look at me and I throw off the comforter like it’s
suffocating me and dash out of the living room, into the hall and
into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I throw myself
down on the floor and lunge my head over the bowl of the toilet and
puke my ever loving guts out. Heave after heave of pizza and spicy
wings, that burn coming up. My mouth is on fire. My heart is
shattered in pieces all over the floor. I think I might have just
died. Shit!

How the fuck is this possible!? I can’t
believe he did this! I can’t believe my babies are going to have a
baby brother or sister that they are the same age as! This can’t be
happening! Oh my god! Why does this have to get worse? Why can’t my
life just get better? It’s been going so well with Stacy the past
few weeks and now Johnathan has to go fucking it all up again. Like
always!

I sit back from the bowl and wipe my mouth
with the hand towel lying on the countertop. I rest my back against
the white wall, bending down I cover my face and I bawl and I sob
and I weep. Emotions pouring out of me like a tidal wave. Why is
this happening? I don’t understand. I’m not a bad person! I’ve
never killed or raped or stabbed anyone. I’ve never even gotten a
damn speeding ticket. Yet, the man I hate to admit I have some
feelings for went and knocked up another woman. I saw her face in
the bar that night. It was the same face on the internet clip.
Short brown hair, petite, kind of like me except she is carrying
Johnathan’s baby and he is going to know about it! Oh god! Now I
really can’t tell him about these.

I rub my tummy cradling it with my hands,
tears drenching my shirt over my chest.

The door to the bathroom clicks open and
slowly James’s head peers around the corner.

“Are you okay? I can hear you from the living
room.” He says nicely and comes in shutting the white door behind
him.

I wipe my eyes. “No, I’m not okay.” I sob as
my hands tremble. “Where’s Stacy”

I’m in so much pain. I thought the pain I’ve
been through before was bad. This is on a whole different level. I
can deal with the fact that Johnathan used me as a one-night stand.
I can sort of forgive him for that now. It hurts but he’s been
trying to prove me wrong. Plus I know he doesn’t know how to love
according to Stacy, so I can’t expect a lot out of such a broken
man. I’ve seen his nightmares, his drug addiction and sex
addiction. That’s why I’m so glad he’s in rehab to clean himself
up. I thought maybe in a few weeks after all the tour was done I
might be able to tell him about the babies. I might be able to be
honest and come clean. But now! How could I? I can’t do that. He’s
already going to have one baby that he’s going to have to take care
of. I can’t throw the other two into the mix even if I wanted.
First. He didn’t ask for them. Second. I can’t go through all that
pain again. Especially if he decides to do the horribly wrong thing
and try to date this baby’s mama. Fuck! What if he does?

I can’t hide this belly forever. He’ll notice
eventually. Shit! If the time comes I’ll tell him they’re Stacy’s.
I’ll say I got pregnant when we were back in Indiana for the break.
That would make sense. The timings not off by that much. Plus Stacy
will go along with it just fine. That’s all I can do. Johnathan
mustn’t know.

I rub my heart. Holy shit it hurts!

“You’re going to be okay.” James reassures,
throwing his arm around my shoulder.

Holy crap, he’s now on the floor sitting
right next to me. I must have zoned out again. Damnit!

“No I’m not actually but I’ll try.” I sob out
weakly, my body shaking like a leaf.

“Come here.” He says and somehow pulls me
from the floor into his lap in one quick motion. I lay my head
against his warm soft chest. It’s hard but has a little bit of
cushion. He’s like a giant extra-large teddy bear version of Taylor
Lautner. He rubs my hair and I wrap my arms around his thick torso.
Hugging him close. This feels so nice! I relax a bit, melting into
his arms.

“It’s going to be okay Emily. You’re going to
be alright. That’s right, calm down.” He strokes my hair. Wow! He
just used my first name for the first time.

Tilting my head up and he peers down at me
with those beautiful brownish eyes. “You just said my name.” I
smile.

“I know this isn’t the time or the place to
be so formal. See, I’m flexible sometimes.” He states gently with a
smirk and presses my head back against his soft warm chest.
Soothing me.

“You smell good.” I comment, my nose nestled
against his heat. Pressing my nose in harder I inhale him again. He
smells like baby powder, spicy aftershave and cedar. Deliciously
relaxing.

“Thanks, now will you please tell me what’s
wrong?” he inquires caringly, coaxing me with his deep voice. I
never realized how nice his voice is until now.

“Did Stacy tell you?” I squeeze him harder.
Maybe the more I hug the less pain I’ll feel.