Southern Rocker Showdown Read online

  It was obvious that she had moved on. He couldn’t help but wonder who dazzled her now. Surprisingly, the more he wondered about it, the more obsessed about it he became. When he left all those years before, it was his choice to go. He didn’t even think twice. He wouldn’t have, with or without the pregnancy. He was a lone wolf. He always had been. He worked best with temporary relationships that never limped into a complacent rut. He had all the excitement of the chase and the conquest, without any of the complications of commitment.

  It had suited him to a tee. He had means and opportunity to taste all of life’s delicacies. Why would he ever settle down to just one? And he would never have picked Lacy had he changed his mind about settling down, even before she inked her beautiful body head to toe. They came from two different places, and his mother had already warned that girls like that weren’t above using their sex appeal to secure the most lucrative marriage possible.

  He figured she should know. His mother had married out of her social and economic class, with much success.

  But every time he caught sight of Lacy, he couldn’t help but remember their brief but mind-blowing affair. She had bloomed in his arms just like a flower. Now she was more than he could have ever imagined. She rattled against her cages like a thoroughbred stuck in the starting gate, ready to run, ready to win. It made her even more interesting.

  Yet she wouldn’t give him the time of day. She would barely spare him a glance. He still felt connected to her every single time he thought of her. They had shared something unlike anything he’d ever experienced with anyone else. Plus they had a child together, for fuck’s sake. Didn’t that mean anything to her? They were bonded for life, whether she liked it or not.

  Granted, he had fucked her over by leaving the country. He had never made one step toward claiming fatherhood. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Not now.

  Then he overheard Lacy and Shiloh talking about his kids. It was clear to see how Lacy latched onto the soft and gentle way Shiloh shared his stories of fatherhood. Of course she would, he thought. She’d been ditched by her dad and he had ditched her himself.

  For the first time he managed to feel like a shit about it.

  As he watched her from afar, he wondered what their son – Cody – looked like. Their son, he thought to himself. A perfect mix of the two of them. Did he have her eyes? His hair? Her nose? His birthmark on his inner thigh? Could he sing? Did he laugh? Was he smart?

  Was he happy?

  He knew he couldn’t ask Lacy. She’d rip his head off just for thinking these thoughts. He would have asked around but she was decidedly close-mouthed about her life outside of the competition.

  Cody never even showed up for the tapings.

  He couldn’t help but wonder why. Thanks to all the media packages shown before every single performance, he knew a lot about his fellow contestants, about their families and their struggles. Lacy had the perfect story to endear her to the audience. She was a single mother abandoned by her child’s deadbeat dad, which mirrored her own tragic childhood. Was she saving this information for a reason? Was she keeping that one bullet in the chamber, cocked and loaded and ready to fire if it came down to a battle between the two of them?

  If he was going to find out, he would have to change his M.O. He couldn’t charm it out of her because she could see through the bullshit a mile away. He’d already played every card in that deck. She could not be fooled again.

  He decided to abandon all the flirty, suggestive innuendo and deal with her honestly, one on one, to earn her respect. It didn’t work out well. She bit his head off every time he tried to talk to her, even if it was to compliment her on her performance. She wouldn’t answer any questions. She’d just fire back hateful retorts telling him, basically, to go fuck himself.

  The angrier she got, the hotter he got. She was as fiery as her mane of bright red hair. He’d kept their passionate encounters on a recurring loop in the old spank bank for years, recalling her at will, how she felt in his arms, her eyes wide as he possessed her, showing her the wonders of sex like the eager student she was.

  Even when he sneaked Harper into the bathroom for a passionate tryst in the shower, he saw Lacy behind his closed eyes.

  Was their son conceived in the shower back at the house in Austin? Their son, he repeated in his thoughts, savoring now that they shared something that no one else, not Vanni, or Shiloh, or even that hick Jonah Riley, could claim.

  He had texted his mother about it, but she told him they hadn’t made any progress yet with Lacy’s mother. She had locked Cody up tight in their new place, allowing only a select few access. They hadn’t even been able to ninja a photo to send back to him.

  Likewise, he hadn’t been able to sneak into Lacy’s shared room at the house to see if there was anything there that could offer him some kind of clue.

  He had to get close to Lacy. There was no other choice. With each passing day, he couldn’t remember why this was a bad thing.

  In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he thought about her, the more he was convinced that they were both put there in that competition for a reason. They had tried to stay apart but fate had thrown them together.

  Maybe… just maybe… his success wouldn’t be complete if they weren’t a part of it, both Lacy and their son.

  She wasn’t just some chick he fucked anymore. She was the mother of his child. She was family. By Week Three, he began to daydream about getting a place together, maybe someplace in Austin, or maybe some place in Los Angeles. Cody would sleep in the room next to theirs, one filled with everything he could ever want or need. Maybe he’d even get him a bed that looked like a pirate ship, just like the one he had when he was a little boy. They could play video games together every Saturday morning, hopped up on sugared cereal. He’d teach him to throw a ball, ride a bike and swim in the ocean.

  And at night he would carry Lacy off to their bed, undressing her slowly, like a work of art. He would hold her close and make love to her endlessly, still insatiable for her after all these years.

  For the first time since he had it done, he regretted his vasectomy. He would have loved to fill their house with more children, especially a little girl who looked just like her. She would be the apple of her daddy’s eyes with those big doe eyes he would never be able to refuse.

  His mother, however, popped that fantasy just like a bubble. He had called to tell her what he was considering, and she was quick to remind him of their situation. “There’s a reason she hasn’t told anyone about Cody yet, Tony Paul. She’s waiting for the right opportunity. I guarantee you it will be when it hurts you the most.”

  “So let’s just get it out there first,” he suggested. “Why wait for her to push the button?”

  “Because you can’t afford to alienate anyone right now. If you go public with the fact that you had the means to provide for a child, just no inclination, you’ll be gone in a week. Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not,” he grumbled. “But we can spin it, it’s not that hard. I could just tell people I have had a change of heart.”

  “And have you?” his mother asked in that pointed voice that demanded the truth.

  He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  She was silent for a moment. Finally, she said, “I’m behind you no matter what you decide, Tony Paul. I just think now is the wrong time to go public with it. Why do you think I never filed the paperwork? No one needs to have that information, especially as a matter of public record.”

  He thought back to the legal paperwork relinquishing his rights to Cody Abernathy. He signed them to come home. He hadn’t even thought twice about it. He was definitely thinking twice now. “I don’t want you to file it, Mama.”

  “You know what it means if you don’t. She’ll have all the power and you’ll pay all the bills. You can’t even guarantee you’ll get to see your son.” My son, he thought. He liked the sound of that more and more. “You fled the country to get away from your respo
nsibilities. Plus you got a vasectomy to ensure you’d never become a father again.” She loved every opportunity to remind him of that. He had denied her grandchildren. She nursed a serious grudge about it. “Family courts won’t take any of this lightly.”

  “I fucked up,” he admitted. “I was young and stupid and selfish.”

  “And you’re not now? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “As long as I deny my child, I always will be.”

  She couldn’t argue that point. But again, it was just the wrong time. “Stay on task, Tony Paul. You’re getting paid to perform. That’s what you need to do. If you want, I’ll even set it up that all your money from Fierce goes into a trust to take care of Cody. That way, the longer you stay, the better it will be for him. Whether you take home the prize or whether she does, it’s a win for everyone.”

  “And what will you get out of it, Mama?”

  Her voice was quiet. “The chance to live close to my grandson.”

  And there it was. Her reason for moving west into some chintzy apartment when she could have bought a private estate in Beverly Hills. He had always wondered. She just hadn’t admitted it until now. It only convinced him further that he was doing the right thing. He hadn’t just denied his son the life he could have had. He was denying his own mother the chance to get to know her own flesh and blood.

  It made him feel even more like a shit.

  He was quiet and contemplative as he headed out to the pool. Since he had gained weight, swimming was the exercise he preferred. It took the weight off of his knee, which had been aggravated by all the dance numbers they had to rehearse.

  Despite his years of toiling at his craft, he felt – for once – he was finally working towards something. He no longer had a horde of people blowing sunshine up his ass. He was expected to perform, no excuses. Their weeks were hectic. All of them fell into bed each and every night, exhausted from the grueling schedule. If they weren’t rehearsing with the band, they were recording. If they weren’t recording, they were in the dance studio, perfecting that week’s routine. If they weren’t dancing, they were in front of the camera giving interviews, or in wardrobe getting styled. It made some of the contestants a little testy. Harper was a raging bitch most days. She had opinions on everything, despite being so young. She liked her way and didn’t really stop until she got it. Initially he had liked that about her because he understood that mindset all too well.

  Eventually, though, it began to wear on his nerves. Fortunately most of the time they spent together she had something in her mouth, so he didn’t have to hear her complain.

  Others, like Shiloh, easily rode the swell of the ever-changing tide. He could switch gears in no time flat, remaining constant even as he adapted to each new challenge. Despite the chaos around them as the weekend arrived, with contestants fitting between the house and the lot, his tone was even, his humor intact and his eyes on the prize. Tony Paul didn’t know how he did it until he saw him sitting in the grass in the back yard, his eyes closed as he meditated.

  Tony Paul propped up on his forearms on the edge of the pool. “I would ask you if that works, but I guess the answer is obvious. You’re one of the few tearing your hair out.”

  Shiloh smiled as he peered through one eye at Tony Paul. “If you’re feeling stressed, you should try it.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “You start at the beginning,” Shiloh said. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Tony Paul looked down at his soaking wet body half-submerged in the pool. “Now?”

  “If not now, when?”

  It was such a hippie-dippy thing to say, about as hippie-dippy as meditating itself. Tony Paul fought the impulse to roll his eyes. Was this the kind of thing his alternative Lacy liked about this guy? Tony Paul found himself getting out of the pool, drying off and joining Shiloh in the grass anyway.

  “Start with your breathing,” Shiloh told him. “Find a comfortable position and close your eyes.” Tony Paul complied. “Concentrate on each breath. Observe how it affects each part of your body. Feel it as it enters your body and fills your lungs. As you exhale, think about how you hold your shoulders as your chest empties itself of air again.”

  Tony Paul did as he was instructed, even though he felt like an idiot. He was tempted to open his eye and see who might be watching, but he fought the urge. Instead he tried to focus on his breathing. He wondered then if Lacy meditated. He didn’t think so. Otherwise she wouldn’t be so bitchy.

  Just that morning she had glared at him so hard he thought his head might actually explode. He watched her spin on her heel and stalk away, a miniature terror in those studded black jeans that lovingly curved the swell of her ass.

  He remembered how that ass used to fill his hands as he rubbed against her, eager to impale her, feeling her tight around him as he fucked her. Around the time he remembered he needed to be focused on his breathing, he realized that he was breathing a little harder now.

  It wasn’t the only thing that was a little harder now.

  He opened his eyes and found Shiloh staring at him. “You’re supposed to be concentrating on your breath,” he said with a knowing smirk.

  “What can I say? I’m easily distracted.”

  “I figured,” Shiloh said. “You lasted longer than I thought you might. So there’s that.” He rolled to his feet, gathering his stuff.

  Tony Paul ambled to his feet as well. “Guess I’ll just have to relax the old fashioned way. Booze and women.”

  Shiloh chuckled. “I’ve always found that combination more stress-inducing, not less.”

  “Only if you’re doing it right,” Tony Paul winked before he grabbed his towel and headed into the house, walking directly to the bar in the living room. He was pouring his drink when Lacy arrived from the studio lot. She sneered his direction before she attempted to pass him to get to the stairs.

  “You worked with Jorge today, huh?” he asked as his eyes swept over her. She was dressed the same, but her makeup was flawless and camera-ready. A garment bag was flung over her arm. She looked beautiful. It was maddening to be so close to her on the heels of his lascivious fantasy. He was still semi-hard. Just the smell of her perfume threatened to drive him to the first could shower he could find.

  If he was lucky, she’d be in it.

  Lacy didn’t bother to respond to his question. She owed him absolutely nothing. She sidestepped him to reach the landing. “When are we going to get past this thing, Lacy?” he asked her as he blocked her path.

  “What thing is that?” she questioned with a cocked eyebrow. “Is it that you screwed me out of a record contract by lying to me and leading me on? Or is it that you took advantage of me just to get a few jollies, while diddling every groupie you could get your hands on in the process?” He sighed. She wasn’t through. “Oh, I know. It’s because you left me right when I needed you the most, and then punished me when I had no choice but to ask for your help.”

  She didn’t utter Cody’s name. She couldn’t risk their dirty laundry being aired in the crowded house.

  “I was an asshole,” he agreed quietly.

  “And you’re not anymore?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But you’re going to have to talk to me to figure that out.”

  She scoffed. “Thanks, but no thanks. I paid that bill in full four years ago.”

  He grabbed her arm as she attempted to brush past him. “This isn’t just about us, though. Is it?”

  Her eyes shot to his. If he so much whispered Cody’s name, she would have ripped his heart right out of his chest. “What do you want from me, Tony Paul?”

  His gaze swept over her lovely face. “Maybe all I want is a chance to prove to you I’m not that guy anymore.”

  She laughed. “Please. Tell me that when you’re not boinking Harper in the bathroom.”

  “Well, that’s kind of the point. I could be in there with her. But I’d rather be out here arguing with you.”

 
“I see. And why’s that?”

  His hand fell and he took a step away from her. With one backwards glance, he said, “Maybe because I can see how badly I fucked things up.”

  He left her with her mouth hanging open, trying to process his new, puzzling behavior. Clearly this was another trick. It had to be. Maybe he was feigning contrition because he could see that she really was a bona fide competitor now. He was trying to keep her off her game, thinking he was giving her something she still wanted.

  He wasn’t. And she didn’t.

  She took the stairs two at a time, heading to her bedroom.

  Chapter Nine

  Week Three proved most difficult for the younger contestants who had no idea what to do with the country theme. By that Wednesday, Fierce said goodbye to sixteen-year-old Dakota Dosamantes and eighteen-year-old Cameron Murphy, a boy with bright red hair and endless freckles. They had one more week of quarter finals before America chose its top sixteen semifinalists. After that, only one contestant would leave the house each week.

  Lacy, Jonah, Tony Paul and Courtney did well that week, as did Sydney Lambert and, surprisingly, Beatrice Fontaine. Harper landed in the bottom, which left her surlier than usual. She ditched all her extracurricular activities and focused on the new theme of the week, Pop Goes the Flashback. Each contestant had to pick a Top 100 pop song from the year that they were born. Harper decided she needed to whip out the big guns and go as risqué as she could possibly go on network TV. She decided to use her sexual frustration to her advantage to really seduce the crowd.

  Tony Paul went a different way. He opted for the Foreigner tune, “I Want to Know What Love Is.” It jumped from the list almost immediately, given all the feelings he had been having regarding Lacy and their son. Unaware, Lacy likewise picked a personal tune with Mike + the Mechanics’ “Living Years.” At first she had resisted it, given it was just too personal for her and she never wanted to give that much of herself away on stage.