Collaboration (25 page)

“Security?” I question. How the hell is
she
going to protect him?

“Dre, Dre…DRE,” Cal screams in the phone. “Have you heard from your jackass cousin?”

I start tapping my foot, impatient to know what Dre is saying on the other line.

“Listen to me, motherfucker. Has. He. Called. You?” When it becomes obvious he’s not getting any answers, I hold my hand out for the phone and Cal looks apprehensive as he passes it to me.

“Dre, it’s Taryn.”

“Hey, if it isn’t ‘America’s Sweetheart,’” Dre chuckles, clearly slurring his words. “So how is my cousin? And just so you know, that was a general question. I’m not looking for any fucking details,” he says with a laugh, obviously enjoying his little play on words.

“Dre, I need to know where he is...do you have any idea where he might possibly go in Texas?” I hear him sniff hard into the phone before releasing a deep breath and idly, I wonder if he has a cold. “Dre, please,” I plead.

“You mean he never told you?” he says disbelievingly.

“Told me what?” I snap impatiently.

“Go to the Forest Park cemetery, he’ll be there,” he informs me.

“Why would he be at a cemetery in Texas?” I question, more to myself than him, but Dre starts answering anyway. I whisper the name of the location to Cal and he takes me by my elbow, leading the way out of the hotel. Adriana follows close behind until we get to a waiting car, where I hear Cal tell her she needs to stay behind.

With Cal up front next to the driver, I hug the phone to my ear while my heart breaks as Dre tells me what Trace should have told me himself. After we hang up, I stare out the window until we arrive at a small cemetery, which is attached to an even smaller church. I immediately spot Trace kneeling down in front of two beautiful granite tombstones that look out of place among the many plain, concrete ones.

“Thanks, Cal, I’ve got it from here,” I say as I step out of the car, sounding more confident than I feel, considering I’m not sure exactly who the man is that I see in front of me—not anymore.

Chapter 16

Trace

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found
Was blind, but now I see.

‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear.
And grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis grace that brought me safe thus far
and grace will lead me home.

Even though I could sing the rest of the song by heart, I stop when I hear the sound of sniffling behind me. With a sigh, I stand up and slowly turn around, finding myself face to face with Taryn and her tear-filled eyes. If I was looking for a sign that it’s truly over between us, I’m coming up empty. All I see in her eyes is compassion, and maybe something that looks a lot like love, shining back at me. I want to go to her and hold her and tell her everything will be alright, but I still don’t know if that’s true so I just continue to stand here, staring at her.

“I had no idea, Trace,” she says with genuine hurt and sadness, “because you didn’t tell me. Why wouldn’t you share something this important with
me
? I can understand why you don’t want the world to know, but you don’t trust me enough to know who you really are?”

I know she’s right, but I’m not sure if there is a logical explanation. What do I tell her, that I’ve been living a lie so long I don’t even know who I am anymore? Instead, I deflect. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Dre, but I’m pretty sure he was higher than a kite or else he wouldn’t have said anything,” she says, rushing to defend him.

I nod my head. Dre and I will have a good long sit-down the next time we’re together, but now is not the time to worry about it. The damage is done, although “damage” is feeling a hell of a lot like relief right now. I guess it feels good for someone to finally know my secret.

“But why did I have to find out from him?” she continues. “You’re from Texas, Trace. You didn’t think I might want to know that?"

“What do you want to know, Taryn? You asked me one time why I sound angry in all of my songs? Well, guess what? I
am
fucking angry! I’m angry that some jackasses decided to go on a shooting spree and my parents were caught in the crossfire, and I’m really fucking angry that whoever did it never had to pay for what they did and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I’m angry at my parents for being in that ghetto in the first place, despite the fact that I know they were there helping people. We didn’t even live in the projects, Taryn! My dad was a preacher at this church,” I say, indicating the small, southern Baptist church where I spent so much of my childhood, “and my Momma was the leader of the choir and the best damn mother there ever was.
This
is where I first started singing and it sure as hell wasn’t songs like I sing now. So yeah, I’m angry because I
know
they’d be disappointed in me, but not as angry as I am that they’re not around to put me in my place.”

I breathe heavy, relieved to have gotten that off my chest, to finally express how I’m been feeling for longer than I can remember. Taryn doesn’t say anything but stares at me as if looking at a stranger. “But what about Chicago?”

“That’s the kicker,” I say, laughing humorlessly, “my mom and dad may not have lived in the ghetto but they didn’t have a whole lot of money and neither did anyone in their families. So what little bit they had went to my Uncle Roosevelt, the
closest
living relative, who just happened to be a drunk and an addict living in one of the worst damn ghettos in the US. So as hard as my parents worked to keep me out of that environment, that’s exactly where I ended up. I don’t complain though, because as bad as my uncle was, at least I had Dre. He and I started making our own music…kept us out of the gangs which probably kept us alive. And here I am.”

With tears now falling down her face, she begins to walk toward me. I put my hand up to indicate that I don’t want her to come any closer because, as much as I’m itching to wrap my arms around her and comfort her, I won’t—not after what I saw this morning.

“Taryn, one of the boys sent me a TMZ shot of you and Ryder out last night. Now, I’m not blaming you because I practically pushed you into his arms, but I do need to know…”

She’s already shaking her head as she says, “Nothing happened. I won’t lie and tell you he doesn’t want more because you were right, he does. He made it crystal clear last night.” I clench my hands into fists before she continues, “But I don’t want Ryder….I want you, Trace. I was pissed beyond belief last night and needed to let off some steam, but that’s all that happened. Ryder’s only a friend to me, just like I’ve told you from the beginning. I haven’t seen the photo, but I’m sorry if it looked worse than it was. I know how that feels…”

Even if something had happened—but thank fuck it didn’t—I would be just as much to blame after the way I acted last night. After standing her up in front of all of her fans and then spouting off thoughtless words, I don’t deserve her apologies right now.

“Taryn, don’t apologize—that’s on me. I’ve never felt like this before, and I just don’t know what to do, how to react, what to say. I’m not an insecure guy,” I say with a smirk, gesturing at my body, which garners a smile from her, “but I don’t have the first clue why you would choose somebody like me over him and I guess that was reflected in my reaction last night. I’m sorry though but I just don’t get it.”

“Trace,” she says, hesitantly inching closer, as if she’s not sure she’s welcome. I open my arms and she falls right into them. “We’re not as different as you think we are. Come home with me.”
Wait, what?

I must look as baffled as I feel because she looks up into my eyes, saying, “I want you to meet my dad. I checked our schedules and we both have off tonight. It’s not much time, but at least we can get away from it all and you can see where I’m from. But if you’d rather not, I under—“

“No, I want to,” I answer, not hesitating now that the air is clear between us. “That sounds great actually. When do we leave?”

“As soon as you’re ready,” she says, and after a few more minutes where I “introduced” Taryn to my folks, I was.

***

Cal hooked us up after promises that I would go straight to Taryn’s dad’s ranch and then meet up with the tour in Dallas afterward, without so much as getting out of the car to get gas in between. Like hell I’m going to let Taryn pump gas while I sit in the car like a lazy motherfucker.

We are barely going to have twenty-four hours together, but I plan on making the most of it. I just hope her dad doesn’t chase me from here to yonder with a shotgun or that would seriously put a dent in my plans. I’ve decided I’m tired of fucking around. Yeah, I thought I knew that before, but after pushing Taryn away and then seeing the photo of her with someone else, I really knew it. Doesn’t matter if it’s guitar boy or any other asshole, I don’t want to see anyone with
my
girl.

And I’m actually glad I did see that picture because, sorry to say, I might not have believed her if I hadn’t. Not only could I detect the adoration in country boy’s eyes, but I also clearly saw that there was no reciprocity on her part—it just wasn’t there. When she told me that she chose me and not him, well, that’s all I needed to know. So I plan on using our time together wisely…cementing my way into her heart and mind the way she has mine. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say I want to spend some time
cementing
our bodies together too. Damn, I’ve missed her.

So here I am driving this piece of shit car that Cal dug up for us so we could “blend in,” and after agreeing to not listen to rap or country, we settle on an alt-rock radio station. After singing along happily to a few of the songs,
“Demons”
by Imagine Dragons comes on and she quickly changes it. What the fuck’s that about? I don’t listen to this kind of music and even
I
like that song. She lands on an R&B station still piping out of Houston and Drake’s
“Hold on, we’re going home”
starts to play. My man can write and sing like nobody’s business and I begin singing along, grabbing a hold of Taryn’s hand so she knows that the words are meant for her. When I get to the part about how I know what a good girl she is, she quickly yanks her hand out of mine and turns the dial. “Sorry, not a fan,” she says but I can tell that’s not it. Her hands have started fidgeting in her lap and one of her legs is bouncing up and down. Plus, I’d swear I remember her saying that Drake was one of the few rappers she’s listened to and this isn’t even rap.

Apparently, she does like Top 40 because she stops when she hears Lady Gaga & R. Kelly’s
“Do what u want.”
I try not to hate because edited versions of my songs end up on these stations all the time, but I can’t say they’re my favorite. However, I might just change my mind, listening to Taryn sing about doing what I want with her body, especially since what she’s currently doing to mine is rubbing the palm of her hand on my dick.

“Fuck, Taryn, you know I’m driving, right?” She leans in and begins licking her way up my neck to my ear, whispering, “I know. I also know that you can control the car and I’ll control this.” With those words, she begins unbuttoning and unzipping my fly, which is a relief since I was about to bust right out of there anyway. Wasting no time at all, she releases my cock, and flinging her sunglasses off, her mouth immediately wraps around it. “Oh, sweet mother of—oh shit, oh Taryn, oh baby…” I don’t even know what I’m saying because it’s all I can do to keep my hands on the wheel and the car between the lines…hell, I’m not even doing a very good job at that. Thank God this is a one-lane road or anybody driving next to us would see exactly what she’s doing to me. And what she’s doing is giving me the best damn blow job of my life. She begins to slow down and lick her way up and down my shaft, which feels amazing, but now that I’ve felt how deep she can take me, I want more of
that
. I raise my hips slightly and hold onto her hair gently with one hand, causing her to moan as she begins to pump up and down again—oh, fuck yeah. I vaguely hear the song on the radio end and Taryn slaps the button, shutting it off, and now all I can hear are the sounds of her chroming my dome.

“Uh, Tar—babe, I’m gonna blow,” I warn, but she only sucks harder and takes me deeper. “Fuuuuuck,” I hiss and then let it all out. And damn if she doesn’t take it all in. Taryn may be an expert at avoiding whatever it is she’s hiding, but she’s also a master in the art of pleasing her man.

***

Forty-five minutes later we pull up outside a gate and Taryn immediately jumps out of the car, unlatches whatever is holding those iron bars together, and pulls one side open, gesturing for me to pass through. After locking it up again, she hops in with a huge smile on her face, closes the door, and sits on the edge of her seat, obviously keyed up about being home. I’d be a jackass if I didn’t admit that I’m a little nervous about meeting her dad, even if it doesn’t seem as if he’s very involved in her life. Not to mention, she is a grownup now, but then again, that doesn’t stop her witch of a mom from running her life. Speaking of….

“How the hell did you get away from your…um, team?” I question carefully, not wanting to raise her hackles again about her mother.