The Comeback (BWWM Interracial Romance Book 7) (8 page)

Brenton stood outside of his in-laws’ house, gathering up the last shreds of his courage. When Amber had left his house two days before, he had initially been angry. He had told himself, opening another beer in frustration, that she just didn’t understand the bind that he was in. But as he sipped his beer, staring at the TV and not truly watching it, the facts of the situation began to assert themselves. He remembered what Chris had told him weeks before: that he needed to get his act together and assert himself. That he had to face the music and stand up for his family, for his daughter. He had to show his in-laws that he was not going to tolerate their meddling or their attempts to force him to give up.

And so he had dropped Felicity off at Chris’ house, leaving her under the watchful eye of his best friend’s wife, Vielka, knowing that she would be safe there. He was more than a little ashamed to realize that he had taken the longest possible route to Howard and Betty’s house from Chris’, working up his courage along the way. It should have been easy for him; he was tired of what they were doing, tired of their constant attempts to undermine him. But the stakes were higher than any that Brenton had ever faced before in his life—even in the military, knowing he could be deployed overseas and face enemy combatants, roadside bombs, guerilla attacks, he hadn’t been as scared as he was now, knowing that if things went wrong, he could very well stand to lose the daughter he loved more than life itself.

Taking a deep breath, Brenton raised his hand and knocked on the door three times, hard. His heart was beating faster in his chest as he waited for a response; Brenton thought of Amber, thought of Felicity, of everything he was trying to save and salvage in his life. He saw Betty in the window, and by the time she opened the door, he was as ready as he would ever be for the confrontation that had to happen. “Where’s Felicity?” Betty asked, scowling at him.

“I didn’t bring her, because I wanted to talk to you and Howard. Alone.” Brenton crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh God, did you leave her with that slut you’re seeing?”

Brenton felt a flicker of white-hot rage rush through him and suppressed it, taking a slow, deep breath. “A very good friend of mine is watching her, but I would leave her in Amber’s care any time,” he said firmly. “Are you going to let me in?”

Betty hesitated a moment before opening the door wider and stepping out of the way. She called out for Howard to come to the living room and Brenton rehearsed what he had to say one last time in his mind, striding quickly to the couch and sitting down without being invited. He was not going to leave until he had hashed out the situation between them, until he had made himself clear to both of his in-laws.

Betty sat down a few feet away, and Brenton held his silence, ignoring the petulant looks she shot in his direction. “I don’t even know why you’d come over here unless you were going to bring Felicity,” she muttered, as if she were talking to him and not talking to him at the same time. Howard stepped into the room and sat down heavily, and Brenton held his silence for a moment more, waiting for them to both settle into their seats.

“I’m sick and tired of you both trying to ruin my life,” “From the moment I started seeing Kelsey, you made your objections to me clear as day,” he said, sitting up straight and glancing from one to the other. “I get it: you didn’t think I was good enough for your daughter.” Howard opened his mouth to interject and Brenton held up his hand. “I’m not finished.” Brenton took another breath; he was going to confront them—he didn’t want to come across like a crazy person.  “You may never have thought that I was good enough for your daughter, but I loved her—I still do. And I love Felicity with all of my heart. Over the years, I’ve let you make me believe that I was a terrible husband and that I am a bad father. I’ve let you make me feel guilty for Kelsey’s death. I’ve let you control my life and Felicity’s ever since Kelsey died. That’s changing as of right now.”

“We can always let the courts decide if you’re a terrible father,” Betty said, her voice shrill with spite. “We could call up the family court judge we know, have someone look into just what kind of father lets a slutty rap singer spend time with his daughter.”

Brenton took another breath. “I am an excellent father,” he told them. “If you’re going to be mad at someone for Kelsey dying, be mad at the drunk driver that crashed into her car that day.” He shook his head. “Yes she was sick, and yes it was a damned shame that I couldn’t be there—but she knew that I couldn’t do it, that I had a commitment to the military. She understood.”

“She fell in love with you to spite us,” Howard said bitterly. Brenton shook his head.

“She fell in love with me because she loved me. That’s all there was to it. Trying to meddle in my life, trying to make me miserable—it’s not going to bring her back, and it’s not going to give you any peace. Tell me something, both of you: have either of you gotten any happier since you started trying to make my life hell? Because you don’t seem to be any happier to me.”

“We’re unhappy because our daughter is dead!” Betty nearly shouted.

“And your daughter will still be dead if you somehow convince some judge that you need to take Felicity from me. Your daughter will still be dead if I spend the rest of my life with no one else to love but my daughter. Your daughter is dead. Nothing is ever going to bring her back to life.”

“That is a horrible thing to say to a grieving mother,” Howard told him. “It proves that you’re a fool and a terrible human being and an irresponsible parent. You’re not fit to raise a child.”

Brent shrugged. “Then try and get a case that will stick against me. But you’re going to have to do better than the fact that I’m seeing Amber Solomon. She’s involved in charity, she’s a good role-model to my daughter, and she’s a loving, warm, caring person who would absolutely make Felicity’s life better for being in it. I’m not going to stop seeing her, and I doubt you’ll find a judge who would seriously go on record saying that the reason he’s ordering Felicity away from me is because I’m dating a black woman.” Brenton let the silence hang in the air for a long moment, switching his gaze between his two in-laws.

“We’re never going to like you,” Howard told him.

Brenton shrugged again. “You don’t have to like me. I pretty seriously doubt I’m ever going to be a fan of yours. And if you keep trying to ruin my life to make me give Felicity up I am going to find a judge of my own to say that you can’t even see her. Not once a year, not every five years—never. I will remove her from your life completely and you will never, ever see her again.”

“You can’t do that!” Betty cried out. “We’re her grandparents!”

Brenton looked her in the eye. “I’m her father. I can absolutely do that, especially if I get people to testify to just how terrible you’ve been—bad-mouthing me in front of my daughter and probably behind my back, trying to poison everyone against me, harassing me? Do you think you’re going to get a pass on that just because you know one or two people in child services?” Brenton shook his head. “If you keep this up, I will fight tooth and nail to keep Felicity away from you. She doesn’t need that poison in her life and neither do I.” Brenton stood up. “You can call me if you decide to act like decent people.”

Amber sat back in a chair in the control room of the studio, exhaling slowly as the playback came to an end. They were three quarters of the way through the process of finishing up the album, and she had been listening to the completed masters for a few hours. Everyone else had already left for the day, but Amber—with her key to the studio and with no obligations for the evening—had stayed behind specifically to listen carefully, to go over every single detail in the recordings. She used to hate this particular part of the album-making process; but for the record she was making, she wanted everything to be perfect. And the only way it possibly could be was for her to believe in and understand every part of the process, and to take an obsessive attitude over the finished product.

For the first time since she had started her career, Amber had come to the conclusion that she had as much knowledge about what she wanted her music to sound like as any of the people working at the label. They may not agree—and they may tell her that to her face—but she was determined that the albums that came out under her name wouldn’t be released unless she was completely satisfied with them. David had applauded her “new-found artistic sensibility,” encouraging her to learn as much as she could about the production end of things, pushing her to form and express her opinions. “Look—I am your employee, even if I’m in charge when you’re singing,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “You have a result you want. I’m here to help you get it and to help you convince the label that it’s the right thing to do.”

Amber leaned forward and pulled up another track; she had already listened to it three times, but there was still something she wanted to hear in it, something it was missing, though she couldn’t specifically say what it was. There was a vibe, a warmth or a touch that she wanted it to have that had proven elusive, no matter how many times she tried to explain it to David. She sat back as the click track counted in and closed her eyes. The room filled with sound: the beat took over the click track, and then the melody—sweet, soft guitars, a low, blue piano, horns, came in in stages before her voice rose to the front of the track. Amber’s fingers tapped silently against the arm of the chair as she followed each line of melody and harmony, seeking the one thing that would set the song over the top.

The sound of floorboards creaking in a moment’s silence in the track stirred Amber out of her focus. She should be alone in the studio; even the support staff had gone home. It was probably a security guard, she told herself, dismissing the sound and trying to sink back into her active listening. Another creak, and another sound she couldn’t quite identify, pulled her out again, and she turned in the chair.

Standing in the doorway to the control room, staring in, silent, Kobe had his arms crossed over his chest. Amber felt her mouth go dry, felt her heart beating faster. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, turning to face him completely.

“You wouldn’t take my calls, so I figured I needed to come see you in person,” Kobe said, stepping into the room. He sat down on the couch, his watchful eyes on her. “Where’s that fool you’ve been showing off with?”

Amber shrugged, sitting back in her chair, forcing herself to look more relaxed and confident than she felt. “He’s at home. He works hard, you know—he didn’t have his entire career handed to him.”

Kobe snorted. “He works hard, huh? That why you’re making a fool of me taking him to every last party in town?”

Amber rolled her eyes.“I’m making a fool of you? What was that you were doing with all those other women, then?”

“I’m a man; you should have known what I was when you took up with me.”

Amber laughed. “Who came crawling up to me like a beaten dog when he first met me and begged me to listen to his demo tape?” Amber shook her head. “You sold me a lie, Kobe. Life got easy for you and you figured you could do better—or at least more.”

“You know you’ll just come back to me in the end anyway,” Kobe said, dismissing her with a brush of his hands on his jeans. “The only way you’ve got any relevance is to be with me. What can that piece of Wonder Bread give you?”

Amber rolled her eyes again. “He gives me a lot of things you couldn’t: he gives me love, he gives me respect, and he gives me attention. How is it that if you’re such a big man, you couldn’t keep me happy while you were banging every groupie that showed up at your hotel room?”

“Ain’t a man alive could make you happy,” Kobe said, shaking his head. “You ever wonder why I ran around on you? It’s because you nag. You can’t just let things be.”

“I gave up some of the best years of my career for you. That was my mistake. I thought you meant it when you told me you loved me, that you needed me.” Amber shrugged. “Live and learn. Even if things don’t end up happily ever after with my new man, I wouldn’t go back to you if you were the last man on the planet.”

“When your album bombs, you’ll be calling me,” Kobe chuckled. “You and I both know you don’t have it anymore. It’s pathetic, the way you’re carrying on. Getting David Underhill, showing up at all the parties, please. You’re over, Amber. You’ll never be the star again.”

Amber stood. “You know what, Kobe? Maybe a year ago when we were still together you could have convinced me of that. But I’m happy for once; I know what I’m doing, and I’m not about to let some slimy slug like you bring me down. I’m moving on to bigger and better things, and you aren’t going to have any part in my life for the rest of yours. Hell, I won’t even go to your damn funeral. I’m not over—
we’re
over. You should’ve taken the hint.”

“Big words from a girl whose last hit was two years ago,” Kobe said. “Who’s dating some shy cracker who isn’t even in the industry. You’re never going to be a thing ever again, Amber. I hoped I’d be able to talk for real—but if you’re just going to be a bitch maybe I should lay some hard truths on you.”

Amber laughed, anger surging through her. “Hard truths? Without me, sweetie, you would never be where you got—and you’re never going to get there again. It’s all downhill from here, Kobe. Maybe you should work on learning how to produce because ain’t a person on the planet going to care about your voice without mine to make it sound better. Get the hell out of here.” She pointed to the door. “Get your ass out of my sight before I call the cops.”

Kobe stood for a moment, watching her, as if he was going to call her bluff—but he had to know that there was security in the building. He rolled his eyes dismissively, turning his back on her and walking out of the control room muttering under his breath.

Amber sat down heavily, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. She picked up the internal line for the studio and dialed to the security desk. “There’s a guy wandering the halls,” she said as soon as someone picked up. “It’s Kobe. He’s not welcome here, he has no reason to be here, and if he doesn’t leave, I am going to call the cops.” The man on the other end gave his assent and Amber sat in silence for a long moment, giving the security guards time to get Kobe off of the premises.

She shut down the system and the boards, her hands shaking slightly. Amber gathered up her things and put her phone into her purse, digging out her keys and locking the door to the studio control room behind her.

As she walked out of the studio building, for a moment Amber was at a loss for where to go. She could possibly call Cara and ask her friend to meet up with her for a drink or two. She could go home and tell her mother about Kobe’s sudden appearance and the things he had said. In spite of her confident words, the things that Kobe had said to her—that she was never going to regain her fame, that she was going to be a has-been for the rest of her life, that she was never going to be happy again—had hurt. She didn’t want the airy glamour of her previous life at the top of the heap, but that didn’t mean she wanted her album to be panned. She might want a simpler life, but if she couldn’t move units, then she wasn’t going to have a life as a performer at all. And the thought that she would eventually be just as unhappy with Brenton as she was with Kobe cut deep into the insecurities that lingered in her mind.

Amber climbed into her car and stared through the windshield for a moment, trying to decide what she should do. It had been a week since she and Brenton had fought, and she still wasn’t sure what the outcome of that would be—he had told her that he’d confronted his in-laws, but they hadn’t had an opportunity to really discuss where their relationship was. She realized that in spite of the uncertainty, there was only one place she wanted to be: in his arms. She wanted to tell him about what had happened, about the fact that she had rejected Kobe. She wanted to know whether it was time to move on, or if they would ever be on the same page again.

Amber sped through the streets of Houston, not knowing whether or not Felicity was with her father; it was late enough in the evening that the toddler should be asleep, but she didn’t know whether or not Brenton would be okay with seeing her while his daughter was in the same house.
You can’t get anything if you don’t ask for it,
she told herself firmly, turning onto his street. If he didn’t want to see her, she would accept that. But she couldn’t stand the thought of not even trying to see him. She took a deep breath as she pulled into his driveway, closing her eyes for a moment as she put the car into park. She turned off the ignition and tried to decide if she was being a fool.

Fool or not, Amber had to see him. She climbed out of her car and locked it behind her, walking quickly to the front door and knocking on it. She tried to knock quietly enough to not wake a sleeping child, but loudly enough that Brent might hear; Amber shook her head at her own over-thinking. She knocked again, a little louder, and stood, her heart pounding, her palms clammy. If she had to knock a third time, she would assume that Brent either didn’t want to see anyone, or that he couldn’t hear her—and that it would be a sign that she should just go home and nurse her wounds herself.

When she brought her hand up to knock again, the door opened. Brent stood in a pair of pajama pants and a tee shirt, but the moment his gaze fell on her, the sleepy look left his face entirely. “Amber! Good God, come in, come in.” He opened the door wider and ushered her through it. Amber looked around; there was no sign of Felicity, but she couldn’t imagine that the toddler was anywhere other than her father’s home.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” she said, turning to look at him. “I know Felicity’s probably asleep, but I had to see you.”

Brent smiled slightly, gesturing for her to sit down. “She’s asleep but she’s a deep sleeper. I can’t believe you’re here.”

Amber shrugged. “I… I couldn’t think of anywhere else I wanted to go.” She took a deep breath. “Are we—do you still want to be with me? I mean really, really be with me.”

Brenton frowned for a moment, but it was a look of concern, of worry—not the look of a man who was about to tell her no. “Let’s back up a bit,” he suggested, the frown breaking into a wry smile. “I just told my in-laws a few days ago that if they tried to get in the way of me being with someone I loved, I wasn’t going to ever let them see Felicity again—so yeah, I want to be with you.”

Amber’s eyes widened. “You said that?”

Brenton shrugged, his cheeks flooding with dark pink color. “Well, it needed to be said. You were absolutely right: I needed to be a man and make a decision.”

“God,” Amber said, exhaling and sinking back into the couch cushions. “I can’t believe it—you really stood up to them?”

Brenton shrugged again, glancing away from her. “They were saying things I hated to hear about you, and I told them that you were a great role model for Felicity, that I would trust her in your care any time. I told them I was going to live my life and that there was nothing they could do about it.” He smiled slightly. “I haven’t heard from them since, but the ball is in their court.”

Amber reached out tentatively, letting her hand fall on Brenton’s. She could only imagine how difficult it had been for him—especially after her own confrontation with Kobe. “I had a talk of my own this evening,” she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Kobe came to the studio.”

Brenton’s hand tightened on hers. “He didn’t hurt you?”

Amber shook her head. “He slunk in like a dog and tried to tell me that no one would ever make me happy and that I was a washed up has-been.”

Brenton’s eyes widened.

“I told him that I was moving on and that I wouldn’t get back together with him if he was the last man on the planet.” Amber laughed quietly. “Not what he wanted to hear.”

Brenton chuckled. “Is that why you needed to come see me?”

Amber nodded slowly. “I needed—I need—to know; are we real? Are we good? Is this… is this going to last?”

Brenton leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. “If I have any say in it, it’s going to last.”

Amber smiled, pulling him closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and crushing his body against hers as she deepened the kiss.

Brenton lifted her up as he stood, his lips never separating from hers as he led her to the bedroom. His hands wandered over her body with obvious intent, caressing and teasing, and Amber was more than happy to give into him, to let her own hands explore the lines and planes of his muscular body. Their clothes began to fall away the moment Brenton closed the bedroom door behind them; Amber slid her hands along Brenton’s lean chest, along his firm back, down to cup the tight curve of his behind, pulling him to her again and again. She felt his hands teasing her, stripping off the loose blouse and full skirt she had worn into the studio, peeling her bra away from her body. He led her onto the bed and laid her on her back, kneading and caressing her everywhere.