Replay (Off Track Records Book 4) Read online

  “I need Santa to bring me a woman.”

  She laughs and hands me a cookie.

  It’s frosted, decorated in white icing and pink sprinkles. If I squint, it looks like a naughty cookie. “Scratch that. Ask Santa to bring me a tray of pink pussies.” I shove the treat in my mouth and reach for more.

  “And he’s done here, folks.” Trent catches my arm before I steal all the cookies. I try not to pout as he drags me backward into a chair.

  “Drink.” Lexi places a water bottle in my hand and I catch the concerned look she throws her sister.

  Opal purses her lips together and frowns.

  “Don’t spoil your dinner,” Deb chides and motions for everyone to join her around the kitchen island. “A toast before we eat. Then we’ll do presents.” Trent’s mom raises her glass of wine, her fluffball of a dog held tightly in her other arm. “I’m so glad we’re all here together. It’s been a while. This year hasn’t been easy, and to those who are no longer with us . . .” Her voice cracks and she blows out a soft exhale. “They’re in our hearts. Always. But looking around this room—all the new faces—your young love—I can’t help but be proud of the lives you’ve created. You boys were hellions, and I won’t lie. I’m relieved to see you settled down. Well, most of you.” She pauses to meet my gaze.

  “Love you, too. Mrs. Donavan!” I blow her a kiss.

  She laughs and shakes her head. “I haven’t given up on you, Austin.” She lifts her glass in the air and glances around the kitchen. “To another year. May it bring you each more blessings. More love. And all your hearts’ desires.”

  I open my mouth, a smart and highly inappropriate retort on the tip of my tongue.

  Mrs. Donavan glares.

  I snap it shut. The woman’s known me for over ten years. I can’t get away with shit around her. Never have.

  “To family,” Trent’s smile is broad as he looks at everyone in the room. Sean and Jess. Leighton and Opal. Lexi. His mom. Me. “You all are my family.”

  “To family,” everyone echoes back, and then we don’t waste another minute, grabbing plates we load up on the home-cooked heaven Deb and Opal spent the better part of the day preparing. The food is ten times better than any restaurant, and I swear to God I haven’t eaten this good in years.

  The mix of being high and hung over propels me back to fill my plate a second time. I don’t know why I was so sad before. In this room, right here, are all the people most important to me. So I don’t have a steady woman; maybe it’s not in the cards. I have more than most. All the money I need. Playing music for a living. My life is good. And these people, they’re my family, even if we’re not bonded by blood.

  “Feeling better?” Opal asks from across the table, her feet propped on the empty seat at my right. Everyone else buses around the kitchen, helping Deb clear the counter and wrap up leftovers.

  “Yeah.” I meet her smile and shove the last bite of bread into my mouth. “I don’t know how Leighton lucked out with you, but he better appreciate.” I nod to my now empty plate.

  “Stay away from my girl, Jones!” Our drummer is some kinda boy genius and apparently also has supersonic hearing.

  I lift my middle finger, all in good fun, and shoot a wink at Opal. “I mean it; the meal was delicious.”

  Her cheeks flush with my compliment. “Deb did most of the work.” She’s modest. I know she was in here all day working alongside Trent’s mom.

  “Present time!” Deb claps her hands and shoos everyone back to the family room.

  I grab another beer from the fridge before heading into the next room. Leaning against the door frame, I watch my bandmates and their partners gather around the ten-foot artificial tree. I wonder if we’ll even be here next year. This house is provided to us by our label, a massive three-story in the Hills, with a practice studio in the basement. But ever since our label Off Track Records was bought out by WMI, a giant mogul of a company, we’ve been riddled with uncertainty about the future. Under new management, we’re just attempting to get through our commitments and this last leg of the tour before we reevaluate or make any life-changing decisions.

  Hell, living in one big house has only worked because Deb stays here year-round and we’ve never needed more. When we were all single fuckers, this place was more like an animal house. I bet everyone’s going to want their own place now, somewhere to play house now that they’re in love. Fucking love. Ruins everything.

  “Come on, man. Don’t look so sad. I’m sure Santa brought you something.” Trent bumps his shoulder against mine and motions for me to follow him over to the empty couch. Everyone’s already busy passing gifts around. The rip of paper, joyful musings, and Nat King Cole serenading through the speakers is enough to make me nostalgic. Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year. Only is it?

  “Austin. Trent. Come sit. Those are for you.” Deb points to the couch and a pile of gifts gathered there.

  I don’t want to get emotional. I blame it on the day-drinking and the joint, but the presents, the love in this room, it’s all too much. The goodness of the moment hits me square in the chest. I take a second to watch everyone while they’re occupied with each other. Their joy is fucking radiant. I swallow down the impulse to cry and blink my eyes to clear the moisture.

  Opal catches my gaze. “Did you open mine yet?”

  I sniffle and discreetly rub beneath my eye. “No. Which one?” I say to the stack more than her.

  “With the pink ribbon.”

  I nod and take the package, carefully undoing the perfect wrapping. Inside she’s written a note I can’t look at right now because I know that’ll send me over the edge. Instead I lift out the chia pet. It’s in the shape of a Bob Ross head. Laughter bubbles from my gut and a smile chases away my earlier impulse to sob.

  “Thank you.”

  She grins wide. “You’re welcome.”

  I make my way through the pile. A few are ridiculous, like the mermaid tail Snuggie from Trent. Some expensive. A Movado watch from Deb. All thoughtful and completely perfect. I get down to one remaining box and glance around the room. I have no clue who it’s from.

  “It came yesterday.” Deb says as if she can read my thoughts. She probably can. “No card or tag.”

  I rip through the paper, excitement and nerves in the pit of my belly at the idea of who it could be from. A gift from a certain sexy lawyer would make this day nearly perfect. But inside the package is a plain white box. No wrapping. No card. Strange. I shake my head, pull out a smaller box, and flip open the lid. It’s filled with rocks. Nope. Coal. And between several of the pieces is tucked a note card. I pull it out and try to process the words scratched in dark ink.

  You think you can do whatever you want?

  Wrong.

  I hope you have a merry Christmas, because payback’s a bitch.

  I laugh and glance around the room. “Okay, who was it?”

  Their confused expressions meet mine.

  “Ha ha. You got me.” I laugh again, louder, but no one joins in. No one even smiles. My amusement falls and is replaced with dread.

  “What is it?” Trent shifts closer so he can read over my shoulder.

  “Really. Who was it?” I say, keeping the tinge of panic from bubbling up. It had to be one of my friends. The alternative is disturbing. Who would send this?

  “Mom, when did this come?” Trent glances up at Deb, his eyes holding the same worry that sends my heart racing. “And do you still have the box?”

  “Yesterday, when you were at the studio. I think the packaging is in the garage. It didn’t have a return address, though. None that I remember. Why?”

  “Because my guess is the cops are gonna want to take a look at it.” Trent swallows and looks at me before pulling out his cell phone. “Nothing says Merry Christmas like a visit from the LA Police Department, right?”

  Shit. The last thing I need right now is to talk to cops. Especially if I don’t want my friends to have to post my bail. My eyes go
wide as I catch Opal’s concerned gaze across the room. “You still have some of those cookies left?”

  “Yeah,” she says warily, chancing a glance to where Trent speaks into his phone, “Why?”

  “Because I’m pretty sure I’m still high and drunk. And apparently we’re about to have visitors.”

  “Fuck.” Sean swears and rubs at his temples.

  Trent shakes his head and lets loose a humorless chuckle as he pulls the phone away from his mouth. “Can’t take you anywhere, man.”

  “In my defense I wasn’t planning on leaving the house,” I offer, but catch sight of Deb’s disappointed glare. Fuck, this is a new low, even for me. Yeah, I’m the asshole who ruined Christmas.

  She crosses her arms over her chest and her look of pity is even worse than the judgment.

  * * *

  Thanks to another slice of Deb’s lasagna and Opal’s tray of baked goods, I’m sober enough by the time the cops show that I no longer appear as high as I am. Any weirdness is written off as nerves, because holy fuck, who gets threatened with a Christmas gift? If that’s not enough to make a man stop in his tracks and assess the status of his current life choices, I don’t know what is.

  Only thing is, I can’t figure out who might’ve sent it. Everyone I know who’d send a practical joke are the people here in the room. Which is exactly what I tell the cops.

  “You sure there’s not anyone you can think of who might want to hurt you? Someone who feels they’ve been wronged?”

  I wince because I realize I have to come clean. What I was trying to avoid and delay is now plopped in my damn lap. “Our former drummer. Coy Wright. He filed a lawsuit against me.”

  “What?” Jess brings a hand to her throat. Her wide, fearful gaze makes me wish I had killed her ex when I had the chance.

  “The hell?” Sean doesn’t even try to contain his outrage. “Austin?”

  “I’m sorry.” I chew at the inside of my cheek and shove my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “I wasn’t gonna say anything until after the holidays.”

  Trent’s gaze is serious. “So, that’s what the lawyer wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Yeah.” I shrug and then turn back to the one this hurts most. “I’m sorry, Sean. Jess.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll be fine.” Sean puts his arm around Jess’s shoulders. I don’t know whether his reassurance is more for her or himself. “I won’t let him near you, baby.”

  “We all won’t,” Trent says. “You never have to see him again. Not if you don’t want to.”

  “So, we filing restraining orders, then?” The cop blinks and blows out a sigh. I can’t imagine any of this, or the report he has to type up about my cryptic Christmas message, is fun.

  “No, sir,” Sean pipes up. “We took care of that earlier in the year.”

  The cop glances at his partner. “Looks like we have all we need. One of the detectives from the station will be in touch. We’ll do our best to find out who sent this, but more importantly, keep your eyes open, and if anything seems out of order don’t hesitate to give us a call. We’ll alert the private security on our way out.”

  “Thank you, officers.” Deb produces a few plastic containers, no doubt filled with home cooked food. “These are for you. We appreciate your service, and the sacrifice of you being away from your families today.”

  They smile, appreciative, and offer thanks as she walks them to the door. With the food in hand they no longer seem put out. Thank God for Deb. She’s the best.

  “Now that’s out of the way, who wants to go out?” I clap my hands once and then re-light my Christmas sweater so I illuminate the room. This stupid sweater is gonna be a hit with the ladies. It’s why I bought it. Sure, they’ll laugh and poke fun, but it’s an icebreaker, and soon enough they’ll be looking to light up more than my tree.

  “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.” Sean pats my shoulder and pushes off the couch. He grabs Jess’s hand and pulls her up too.

  “Yeah, we’re calling it.” Trent runs his hands over his face and meets Lexi’s stare across the room.

  Leighton nods. “Us, too.”

  “Fuck. Y’all are no fun. It’s Christmas Day. We should be partying. Living life! Drinking drinks! Finding me a woman.”

  “I’m sure that’s the exact intention of our Lord and Savior’s birth.” Deb pins me with a glare and scoops up her dog.

  “Sorry.” I cringe and then look to my friend. “You know what I mean, right, Trent?”

  He laughs, shaking his head as he wraps his arms around Lexi’s waist. “Don’t drag me into this. I have everything I need right here.”

  “’Night, everyone. Love you,” Deb calls out on her way to the hallway. “Don’t worry about cleaning up. I’ll take care of the rest tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Deb!” we say in chorus.

  Trent gives her a kiss on the cheek. “’Night, Mom.”

  I glance around the room, taking in the happy couples. “You know what? Love stinks.”

  “You should write a song about it,” Sean says. “But maybe change the title, ’cause that one’s taken.” He and Jess wave goodnight, and with an armful of presents, head for their room upstairs.

  “Hey, but seriously”—Trent leaves Lexi’s side to clasp my shoulder—“don’t go out tonight, man. Nothing good’ll happen if you do.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I wave off his concern and make a show of rolling my eyes. “Go upstairs, have a fucking good time. I’ll be in my room masturbating.”

  “Now, there’s the holiday spirit.” Lexi punches me playfully on the shoulder. Trent takes the gifts from the edge of the table and they follow Leighton and Opal out of the room.

  “You guys used to be fun!” I shout at their retreating forms.

  “We’ll party tomorrow night, after the show. Promise!” Trent turns, walking backward, and levels me with a pointed finger.

  I wave him off and lay back on the couch. “Promises, promises.” I blow out a breath and relax into the cushions as the glimmer from the lighted Christmas trees, the big one in the corner of the room and the other on my chest, lull me to sleep. Fuck it. I’m too tired to go out on my own. But I’m holding my friends to it. None of this turning in early crap. When we jump back into the last leg of this tour, we better party like the rock stars we are.

  3

  Jayla

  The murmurs of excitement rumble through the long line outside the side entrance to the Staples Center. I’ve been to dozens of concerts here, but never once have I splurged for these kind of tickets—ones that include a pre-show meet and greet experience. I told my girls it was my treat, a Christmas gift from me to them, but that’s a complete lie. This is an entirely selfish want. I’m not here for the music, or to take pictures with my favorite band. I’m here to see him.

  There have been so many times I’ve wondered. Wanted. And now it’s really happening.

  I resist the urge to flip my phone to selfie mode so I can check my makeup for the thousandth time. Nothing has altered my face or clothes since my girlfriends and I exited the Uber twenty minutes ago. It’s a cold night for LA, even with it being winter, and my teeth chatter despite the suede jacket that covers my upper body. Yeah, it’s the weather. Not nerves. Not because after years, regret, and countless hours of anticipation, I’m finally doing this.

  My stomach plummets with the thought of seeing him.

  He’s probably forgotten. Won’t even recognize me, and he shouldn’t. I’m not the young woman I was when I left Phoenix my junior year of high school. He’s not the same boy. Obviously, what with his famous rock star status.

  Still, I hope.

  “Girl.” Aaliyah steps in front of me. “What’s up with you tonight? You weren’t even listening to me.”

  “Sorry,” I say and shuffle a few steps as the line moves forward. My stomach dips and dives knowing he’s right around that corner. We can see the security guards from here. It’s only a matter of minutes no
w. God, why did I think this was a good idea?

  “You nervous?” Kalise eyes me suspiciously. I should have known better than to bring her along. She sees right through my crap.

  “No.” I shake my head and tip my chin as I straighten my spine.

  “Liar.” She laughs and turns to make a face at Aaliyah before settling on me.

  “Shut up.” I want to be offended but end up giving in to my smile at her wide do-you-really-think-you-can-lie-to-your-best-friend stare. “Whatever. You know I like this band.”

  “Yeah, you do. I can’t believe we’re missing Drake for them.” Aaliyah rolls her eyes.

  “You aren’t missing Drake.” Kalise lets loose another laugh. “He’s playing halfway around the world.”

  “I’m just saying. If we weren’t here, we could have flown to Japan to meet my man.”

  I roll my eyes and let out a rough laugh. “Drake know about your undying love?”

  “If he checks his Twitter, hell yeah, he does.” Aaliyah licks her lips.

  “Tickets please,” the guy working the line says and interrupts our conversation.

  “Oh, right.” I swipe open my screen and flip through each ticket for him to scan. I didn’t realize we’d moved this far up in line. Any easiness fades as a tidal wave of nerves crashes and settles over me again.

  “Jay, you work with celebrities all the time. Shake it off, girl. You look like you’re gonna pass out.” Kalise knocks her shoulder into mine as we step over the threshold and into another line.

  I shrug out of my jacket and place everything I’m holding before the security guard to check before passing through the metal detector. I wait as my friends do the same and try not to allow my knee to bounce as the anticipation builds. I’m not sure what I’ll say when we reach the head of the line, even though I’ve practiced this scenario in my mind more than I’d ever admit.

  “Next.” A woman standing in front of the hanging red drapes waves us over.

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, caught between the need to rush through those curtains and the desire to run back to my apartment.