Finn Beckett Read online

  “Right.” She shrugs, then tosses her smoke to the ground, crushing it out with her thigh-high, black boots. “What are you looking at?”

  “Your legs,” I answer bluntly. Why hide that shit?

  “Like what you see?”

  “Sure do,” I answer.

  “You going out tonight with the crew?”

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Kellie.”

  “Kellie with the boots. Thanks for the smoke.” I walk down the steps to my bike, then stop and look back. “I’m not going out.” I grab my helmet as she walks toward me, and I hand it to her.

  “Nice bike,” she says as she puts the helmet on. I go to mount the bike, but she puts her hand out, stopping me. “I’m driving.”

  “Is that so?”

  “You sure as hell aren’t, four-twenty.” She mounts my bike like a pro and cranks her to a rumble.

  I stand there in a cloud of confusion and exhaust. She did not jus—

  “Where we headed?”

  “My place,” I grumble as I swing my leg over and get on.

  ***

  I wake up in the morning in a fog, feeling like a troll shit in my brain. I don’t miss that shit at all.

  I roll over and see a note on the nightstand next to a half pack of Camel Lights. Grabbing the yellow piece of paper, I lie back.

  Finn,

  Thanks for the ride. I liked it better when you were in control. Hope you can keep that beast on the road. Would be a loss to all those women who haven’t had the opportunity yet.

  Meeting with your management and my band.

  May see you around. If not, it was a pleasure.

  Kellie.

  I take in a deep breath. I shouldn’t have brought her back. Not that it wasn’t well worth it since she was a fine piece of ass, but I crossed a line by fucking her.

  I swing my legs over the side of my bed and force myself up.

  Today is another day, a new day.

  I can only hope I was just in a funk last night and that None-ya isn’t going to be an issue from here on out.

  Today, I will force myself to walk alone … again.

  I close the book and set it on the hotel room nightstand, taking a deep breath before throwing my legs over the bed, ready to take my first step of the day. Each step should become easier, but it doesn’t.

  Seeing Finn Beckett yesterday brought on a plethora of emotions I wasn’t ready for. I have hated him for years now, so I was prepared for that emotion. What I wasn’t prepared for was the look in his eyes, those deep brown pools of muck.

  The hair stood on the back of my neck. I could hear the blood rushing through my veins, feel my temperature rise. Then hate mixed with anxiety, and I could swear he saw something in me, something I couldn’t afford for him to see.

  I walk across the floor and hit brew on the single serve coffee pot. I gave up coffee a long time ago, but today, I knew I would need it. Today, I had to face Xavier Steel, Stevie, and the band.

  I stand under the steaming hot shower and tip my head back, allowing the water to hit my face. I take pleasure in the heat and the feeling. It reminds me of the days not long ago when I allowed myself to feel emotions and cry when I was sad. I don’t allow myself to feel sad anymore.

  “Never again,” I whisper as I rub the washcloth across my stomach, then my arms.

  After my shower, I dry off while looking at my reflection in the mirror. I am now a redhead. I don’t like that much at all, but it’s necessary. My body isn’t the same as it was when I was younger, dancing around the pool without a care in the world in a bikini during one of my mother’s parties.

  Little girl is what he called me. I proved to him otherwise.

  Johnny.

  How is it that, when everything is right in the world, when everything is an abundance of perfect hues of pinks and sunshine, you can be so blind?

  Johnny was older than me, the son of my mother’s gardener. He had dark skin and brown, wavy hair that hung in his eyes. His eyes were almost black, and deep inside, there was a darkness that teased me. He wasn’t like the boys at my prep school who wore khakis and blazers, the boys with a part just to the left of center and not a hair out of place. The boys whose immature and adolescent attention sickened me.

  He was in his early twenties. I was sixteen.

  I didn’t hate Johnny. I hate Finn.

  ***

  I walk into Forever Four and sit down, waiting to face whatever it is that will happen today. For all intents and purposes, Forever Four is STD’s agent slash management slash producing label. They found them and made them who they are today: a group of four men—if they can even be called that—who are musically talented, which I can’t dispute, and out of control.

  I sit back and straighten my skirt as I wait, looking around the large space. There is exposed brick, unenclosed steel beams and piping, a very industrial look, but it’s surprisingly appealing to the eye.

  After yesterday’s catastrophes, I was ushered around by Taelyn Steel. Her hair is an auburn color, and as far as I can tell, it’s natural, unlike mine. She is tall, thin, beautiful, and seems more … refined than the others she works with.

  She never once treated me like the enemy, which was kind of silly since I did have the file of Stevie and Memphis Black going at it with every intention of doing the job I was paid to do, the one I weaseled my way into. I was going to make it public, make it go viral. Not that I had a damn thing against Memphis Black, but a job was a job.

  Stevie Daniels was hoping it would make her band soar on the coattails of STD, inevitably bringing her into the spotlight. She also has a thing for him. I can tell by the way she has looked at him.

  It would have been easier if it was Finn she had lured into her overused bed at the pricey Miami Beach hotel she stayed at. It would have made my life easier, or so I thought until I saw him.

  I run my fingers down my skirt again, a habit born of all those years I needed to be perfect. Mother wanted to raise a lady, and I wanted to please Mother … until I saw who she really was.

  “How long have you been waiting?” I jump when I hear Taelyn’s voice.

  I look at my watch. “Not long.”

  She waves for me to follow. “They’re all in the conference room. Let’s go.”

  I tell myself it will be fine—I will be fine. I will remain poised and not let anything shake me. I say it over and over in my head as I watch my feet touch the ground, fearing the self-talk, all the hype I am building up inside, will be for naught when I meet the eyes of Finn Beckett.

  “Have a seat, Sonya,” Xavier Steel says as he walks toward his wife. I see him wink at her out of the corner of my eye and then kiss her cheek. “He asleep?” he asks in a low tone, obviously meant for Taelyn alone.

  “I was wearing him down,” she whispers with a smile in her voice, “until he heard Kiki squeal ‘Pop Pop.’ ”

  “Shit.” He chuckles. “Then it was all over.”

  “Yep. His eyes popped open, and he got a grin on his face like he knew he was about to do something he shouldn’t. Hmm … Where have I seen that before?”

  In a very hushed tone, he whispers, “Peering up from between your legs?”

  I look around to see if anyone else has heard him, but everyone is looking down at the files in their hands. Lucky me, I grumble to myself.

  I hear a loud smack, and Xavier laughs loudly. “Irish, you shouldn’t do shit like that.”

  I look up to see he is rubbing his arm.

  “Wrong arm, Xavier.” She laughs, blushing.

  “My bad. Now sit down, Mrs. Steel; you’re late.” He pulls out her chair, and she sits. He then leans over and kisses her head.

  “Sorry, ladies.” Taelyn takes the folder her husband pushes over to her before sitting down in the chair to her left.

  Shaunna, the band’s bass player; Courtney, acoustic guitarist; Kellie, the drummer; and Stevie all smile.

  I am a little shocked. They all seem … diff
erent. Giddy?

  “We were up late last night, hammering out all the details of the contract. Stevie Daniels stays the band’s name if the other four of you agree,” Xavier says, taking a sip of his coffee.

  “As it should.” Stevie winks at him.

  I swear I see Taelyn’s eyes roll while Xavier doesn’t respond to Stevie’s obvious flirtation. Instead, he reaches over and hooks his pinky with his wife’s.

  He then looks at Stevie sternly. “That’s not a choice for you to make alone. It’s what the four of you decide collectively and agree on.”

  Her face turns red as she looks toward the girls. “We do, don’t we?”

  Shaunna is the first one to speak up. “I’d like some time to think about it.”

  Stevie gasps. “Are you serious? This band’s success, as small is it may seem, came from my name.”

  “It may also be what’s holding it back,” Kellie says, tapping her fingers on the table.

  “I would like time to think about it, as well,” Courtney pipes up. “And by the way, it had a hell of a lot to do with talent to begin with and Sonya’s social media influence.”

  “I know we’re talented … all of us. I wouldn’t have used my own money to start this band if I didn’t think so,” Stevie says, trying to remain calm.

  “And the recent spike in our following has been Sonya’s work,” Courtney says.

  “Yes, her little blogging gig did help.” Stevie leans forward and looks at Courtney. “That’s why I hired her.”

  Taelyn looks down at the pile of papers. “You hired her a few months ago. She was following you on her blog for months, doing the work without being paid, doing it as a fan until”—she pauses and leans forward, just like Stevie did to Courtney—“you needed her for something a little less music-related.”

  Stevie’s face burns bright red and her eyes narrow, but only a little. She is trying to keep herself together. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep my dream alive.”

  “Which is why you’re going to sign the contracts and take a week to get back to me with the name you have all agreed on,” Xavier says in an even, all business tone.

  “And if we don’t?” Stevie threatens.

  Courtney clears her throat and begins signing her contract. Then Shaunna and Kellie do the same.

  “You ladies do know we can do this without this company, right?” None of them look up at Stevie. “With Sonya, we can do—”

  “That brings us to the next reason for the meeting,” Taelyn interrupts her. “Sonya, what was Stevie paying you?”

  “It was more by the—”

  “Sixty thousand a year,” Stevie interjects. “That’s the salary, and I was offering her bonuses when available.”

  I am a bit taken aback by this. I was never offered anything like that.

  Taelyn’s eyes narrow a bit before she looks back at me and smiles. “We want you on our pay—”

  “That’s not fair,” Stevie says, standing up and slamming her fist on the table. “She is—”

  “If all goes well, she will still be helping you and your band grow.” Taelyn stands coolly and sets her cup down on the table. Then she turns to Stevie. “If you don’t take the contract, and she doesn’t have one in writing with you—”

  “I thought this company believed in this brotherhood shit!” Stevie yells.

  Xavier stands and wraps his arm around his wife’s waist, pulling her closer. “Why the fuck do you think you got an offer?”

  “Excuse me?” she gasps.

  “Sign it, and we make nice. Don’t, and we fuck—”

  “X, I’ve got this.” Taelyn smiles at him.

  “I know you do, Irish, but fuck.”

  Nicholas DeAngelo stands up, a six-foot tall, light-skinned black man with black ink peeking out of his sleeves as he rolls them up. “I have it from here. Why don’t the three of you take the rest of this to your office, Xavier?”

  When I don’t move, Taelyn walks over and bends down. “Ninety thousand, bonuses, and benefits.” I look up and try to hide the shock. “Retirement and vacation, too.”

  I stand up and follow Xavier and Taelyn Steel out of the conference room.

  “You’re fucking stupid, Sonya!” Stevie yells. “You were nothing until me.”

  I look back at the woman who once unknowingly added fuel to a spark that had laid dormant for years. She got me to step out for the first time and go after something, but now I know what her plan has been all along, and it just doesn’t fit with who I am. What Taelyn Steel is offering, on the other hand, seems promising.

  Once in the office, we sit down.

  “What will it be?” Xavier Steel asks.

  “Where do I sign?”

  I leave early so I can take in some of the late-summer-morning ocean breeze, hoping it clears my head. I love the shore, not the clubs or the tourist shit. I love the dive bars, the pubs, and the Mom and Pop places during off-peak seasons like right now. I enjoy the ocean on a hot day, on a warm day, but when there is a chill in the air, and the water is rough, I love to pull my ride over, stand back, and give it the respect it deserves.

  Storms fuck with me. I’m not afraid of the lightning, the thunder, the wind, rain, snow, or hail. I know I’m bigger than them. What messes with me is the need to understand what is inside of them, where they come from, and how close I can get before they suck me in and tear me apart.

  The water isn’t calm today; it’s rough. Then again, it’s peak hurricane season, so it’s expected.

  I pull out the half pack of smokes Kellie left and tap one out. Then I reach in my leather jacket pocket and grab the Zippo I stole a long time ago from the woman who caused the storm that will always be simmering deep inside me. It’s a simmer that, with the heat brought on by emotions, became a rapid boil.

  I was once able to pull it off the flame, away from the fire, allowing me to survive.

  I walk over and lean against a rock wall closer to the ocean as I flick the Zippo open then closed, open then closed, open then closed. The waves come close to hitting my boot, but not quite as I put the unlit cigarette between my lips and flick the lighter, shielding the flame as I bring it up to light my cigarette. I smell the lighter fluid, a scent I have always enjoyed, regardless of what memories it brings back, as I suck on the brown filter lighting my smoke.

  I savor the taste, the burn, the feeling it gives me as I inhale, watching the ocean intensely and witnessing the storm that is now at a slow boil.

  ***

  I walk into Forever Four, seeing Memphis’s sister Madison on the phone at the reception station. I assume she’s making travel arrangements for the tour.

  She nods to the conference room, and I head in.

  “You get lost?” River asks.

  I look up, my stomach turns, and I feel my lip curl. I am looking at her, the girl who has her hand on the knob, turning up the heat that urges the flames from the slow boil to a rapid one.

  She looks up, her cool demeanor fueling the flame even more.

  I point to her. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

  “Finn, that’s enough,” Taelyn says calmly.

  “Enough? That bitch tried to bite me,” I snap.

  “You wouldn’t let go of my elbow,” she says, leaning back and straightening her skirt.

  “You were threatening to expose my band mate’s cock all over the fucking—”

  “Finn!” Xavier says loudly enough to penetrate the ringing in my ear she caused.

  “What! You seriously can’t tell me—”

  “She’s working for us now. Have a seat.”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  I am pissed—beyond pissed. I know damn well this isn’t gonna work out well, professionally or personally. The minute I’m around her, she makes it impossible to ignore her.

  “That’s fine,” Xavier states. “But remember this is a team; everyone is here to help you become—”

  “And to make money off my music.”

&n
bsp; “Our music,” River says with a little ass behind his words.

  I pace back and forth as they talk schedule. I don’t even give a damn.

  Xavier walks over, shuts the door, and clears his throat. “Forever Four has signed Stevie and her band—” Memphis and I both begin objecting, but he holds up his hand. “It’s not up for discussion. It was necessary.”

  Memphis snarls. “How is that—”

  “You two both fucked her.” Xavier throws his hands in the air. “This was best—”

  “I’ve fucked a lot of women,” I retort.

  “Finn,” Taelyn begins, “she’s talented. It was smart business. She’s got a great following, also great business.”

  “So why is she here?” I point to … her.

  “She’s here to make sure Steel Total Destruction’s following grows as big, if not bigger, than Stevie’s.”

  “What the hell does None-ya have to do with music?”

  “Not a thing, but she is a social media genius,” Taelyn answers.

  I glare at her, pissed that they have already made up their fucking minds and don’t care what their decision is doing to me.

  “Well, what the—”

  “Beckett, you are talking to my wife,” Xavier snaps.

  I look at Taelyn, who is scowling at Xavier. “I’m assuming she can handle herself.”

  “As can I.” I look at None-ya as she stands up and walks to the table. “I’m not here to interrupt your flow of genius or stop the spread of your disease. I was hired to make you look more appealing.”

  “As if that’s even possible.” River chuckles.

  “With our band’s name, it won’t hurt,” Billy speaks up. I look at him as he flips through his phone. “She has two point five million followers on social media. I have fifty thousand. What do you have, Finn?”

  “I don’t need that shit,” I answer. “I want to make fucking music.”

  “That’s perfect. You make music; I create a social media presence for you and the band,” she says, standing closer than I want her to. She looks up at me. “That’s all. Nothing to do with your music.”