Everything I Need

Everything I Need © 2015 Natalie Barnes

Cover Design/Photography © 2015 Picture This Photography and Design

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission by the author, except by a reviewer who may quote passages for review purposes only.

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Everything I Need

By

Natalie Barnes

-sequel to “Everything I Want”

Prologue

Tristan

I can barely open my eyes and my head is fucking killing me. Where the fuck am I? I take a slow look around at my surroundings; I guess I’m still alive and in some swanky suite. I’m lying across the length of the bed, with my legs bent and my feet planted on the carpet. I’m naked and my sweat is making the sheets cling to my body, smothering me. This room is dark with only the white static of the TV on for light.

Sitting up slowly, I let out a low grunt. Shit. I feel like I’ve just been hit by a fucking truck. Reaching for the end table, I grab the half-empty bottle of Jack and a couple of Vicodins. Well, maybe more than a couple, but I don’t fucking care. After popping them into my mouth, I chase the pills down with my Jack. My lips are dry, so dry that even opening my mouth to take the damn pills feels like my lips are going to rip open.

Tugging rest of the sheets off of me, I look down. I think I see hickeys all over my groin area; they’re mainly scattered over my upper thighs and lower abdomen. Fuck me. It looks like I have been attacked or something. To confirm my suspicion, I notice a Trojan wrapper, well . . . a few wrappers, scattered on the floor around me. 

Blowing out a long breath, I rub my face roughly with my hands.
What time is it?
I doubt it’s late because I would’ve had one of the guys calling me or coming in here to let me know that I overslept again. I can’t wait for this fucking tour to be over with. First thing, I have no fucking clue what city I’m in. They don’t speak English around here, anyways. And second, I’m over here suffering when Sophia is thousands of miles away from me, suffering herself.

I fucking hate myself for what I put her through. Then she had to lose Cory on top of it.
Shit.
I’m such a fucking asshole. But I’m still doing the exact same thing she knew I would be doing. But if she was mine, I wouldn’t waste my time with any whores. All I can think about is that one fucking mistake I made. How she looked standing in the doorway, watching me with some bitch I picked up that night because I was so high and pissed off at her for turning me down. My heart dropped when I saw her standing there and I realized through all of the haze of my buzz, what I did wrong. I’m a lowlife piece of shit, that’s for sure.

Leaning over the bed, I grab the remote for the iPod deck. I press play at whatever’s on. I don’t care; I might as well start right now. Being fucked up is the only way I can get through this goddamn tour. I make sure to turn down the volume of the music to give my head a chance for the Vicodin to take effect. Fucking figures . . . it’s “Gone Away” by Cold. Rolling my eyes, I’m getting ready to skip it, and then I decide to just keep it on. I might as well sulk into my mood.

Lying back against the headboard, I take another drink. My throat is already too numb to even notice the burn. I don’t know how long I lie there like this with Cold’s song on repeat when I hear a loud smash.
What the fuck?
Not being able to move, I faintly hear someone yelling.
Is it Lux?
  

“Christ!”

Barely opening my eyes, I see him stomping over to the windows. He fists the drapes and swings them wide open, letting the sunlight pour in. Flinching at the sight, I hurry and cover my eyes with the back of my hand.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Tristan?” he shouts.

Ignoring him, I roll over to my side. I don’t want to hear his bullshit right now.

“
Really?
You’re going to do this? I’ve just flown over five fucking thousand miles-”

“That’s your fucking problem, not mine,” I cut him off. I wish I could scream at him, but my voice is barely able to come out of my body and all I produce is a gruff whisper.

“It smells like pussy and whiskey in here,” Lux says more to himself than to me, looking disgusted. A low cackle escapes my throat. He whips his head over to me with a shocked look on his face. “Jesus, put some fucking clothes on, will ya? And turn off that depressing music!” I can hear him slamming drawers, and then all of a sudden, I feel something thrown at my face. “Put these on and sit up! We need to talk.”

Rolling over to my back, I just stare at him. I think I see pity in his eyes. I don’t need his fucking pity. Humoring him, I sit up at the edge of the bed and slide my boxers on. When I’m done, I lie back down, bringing the Jack up to my lips again. Suddenly, I feel the bottle getting swiped from my hands.

“No more, Tristan. You’re getting yourself cleaned up.”

Rolling my eyes at him, I clear my throat. It feels like I have a huge fucking rock lodged in it.

“What, Lux?” Licking my lips real quick, I continue. “Did one of the guys call you up or something? I can take care of myself.”

Lux sits down at the foot of the bed and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees and shaking his head slowly. Letting out a breath, he begins to speak again. But this time, he’s not yelling.

“They didn’t have to call me, Tristan. I hear it from the staff and I can fucking see it on TV.” He looks over at me. “I canceled rest of the tour. You guys are heading back right now. Either you check yourself into rehab or you go back out to Wyoming and clear your head. I don’t need to lose another good musician to this shit.” He waves the bottle of Jack in front of me. I know I should feel rage for him canceling my shows, but right now . . . I don’t really feel anything.

Lux gets up from the bed and wipes the front of his suit down with his free hand, stepping in closer to me.

“Tristan, please try to help yourself. When I feel the time is right. I’ll call you. Until then, get your shit together!”

He turns around and slowly starts walking out of my room but stops suddenly at the door and turns halfway around, back at me.

“Oh yeah, one more thing. If you don’t go into rehab, you better get your act together out in Wyoming, because if not . . . I’ll be there and I will make it hell on earth for you if you don’t.” He gives me one of his signature smiles and then quietly closes the door behind him.

So, I guess I’m done. Don’t have Sophia and now I don’t have my gigs. I hate everything right now, but I really wish I could hate
her.
It would make things so much fucking easier if I could. I don’t even give a shit if the rest of the guys are pissed at me. I’m at a low and I don’t know if I can get out of this. I’m such a pussy for letting a fucking female turn me into a pile of shit. But it’s
her,
though
.
She made me, for once, actually feel like I was alive. Music has always done that for me before, but without Sophia now, it feels like it’s just not enough.

Chapter One

Two Years Later

Tristan

“Hey.”

“Good morning,
Tristan.
How have you been?” Lux chimes over the line.

That motherfucker knows exactly how I've been. Some say hiding out, while others call it taking a break to clean up. I can admit I fucked up pretty bad during our European tour. I was wasted 24/7. I just had to be numb; it was the only way I could cope. After what I put Sophia through, I hated myself.

“All right. You?” What the fuck does he want?

“I've been better. Listen, I've talked to the other guys, and I think it’s time to start recording your sixth album.”

He pauses on the line for a moment. Wait!
Is Lux nervous?
This is new. That fucker is usually so sure of himself.

“The studio wants you to collaborate with a leading lady in the business.”

Oh, shit.

Rolling my eyes, I reach for my beer. I’ve kind of gotten used to staying out here in Wyoming, but I know it’s time to go back to LA.
Collaborate?
What the fuck?

“I don't know about that, Lux.”

He must sense I’m sketchy, because he clears his throat before he continues.

“You have to, Tristan. The studio wants this and they want your voice to be the lead.”

“What? I own my fair share of the label, man, and I don’t want to do a fucking duet. Come on . . . this is bullshit!”

Lux lets out an agitated breath.

“Come on, Tristan, don’t make this difficult. Don’t you want to know who they picked for the female lead?”

“I don’t fucking care, Lux. It doesn’t matter who they p-”

“It’s Sophia,” Lux says suddenly, stopping me.

What?
The last couple years did Dollar Settlement pretty good. After Cory’s passing, they took a small break but got at it again. Every time I see or hear Sophia’s voice over the radio or on TV, it’s just a painful reminder of how I fucked everything up.

I’m still not able to pull any words together to respond. Lux lets out a dry chuckle at my continued silence.

“Yep, that’s what I thought. See you in two weeks at the studio.”

The line goes dead.
Son of a bitch!

Resting my head back against the couch, I close my eyes, feeling the ache that now weighs heavily on my chest.
Sophia?
I miss her. Every goddamn thing about her, I miss.

My lungs were achingly holding in a breath, which I exhale. I stand up and make my way into the kitchen to grab another beer.

After drinking it down in what seems like only two gulps, I throw the bottle into the sink, causing it to shatter. Pieces of brown glass go flying everywhere. I try to calm myself down, roughly tugging at my scalp as I run my fingers through my hair. I don’t know what to fucking do. Part of me has always wanted to call her, beg for her forgiveness. The other part wanted to hate her for getting under my skin. Obviously I could never hate her, but that would make everything a lot damn easier.

Reaching into the fridge, I pull out another beer, making my way back into the living room for my gun. I think some shooting is in order right now.

I just need to clear my head.
Two years.
Two fucking long ass years and I’m about to see her face again.
Holy shit.

Grabbing my twelve gauge from the cabinet, I yank open the drawer underneath for some shells. Shoving them in my pocket, I sling the gun over my back and start heading for the back door. I don’t need to worry about pissing anyone off. Living out here, no one says shit about shooting anyway, but I own over a hundred acres, so it’s not like I have to worry about anyone saying a fucking thing.

I finally come up to the valley. Staring at Heart Mountain, I shove two shells into the barrel of the gun. Clasping it back together, I raise it and blow out a breath, lining up some of the targets I set up earlier in my sights. It’s just a few pallets and a glass bottle, but it works.

Blowing out another breath, I start shooting, letting go of every fucking thing that has just happened to me in the last ten minutes.
Sophia?
Shit.

Every two shots, I pull the rifle down and shove another two shells into it, doing this for almost an hour. Just shooting and walking around my property. After a while, my mind clears and starts to focus. I don’t know why I freaked out at the sound of her name. I have to learn to control myself or I’m going to lose my shit when I get back to LA. But it’s so fucking hard to just
calm down.
I have been thinking about this damn woman every single damn day since I first laid eyes on her.

I can’t believe I told her that I loved her. I guess I still do. It’s not something I normally just go around saying. There’s something about her, though. I couldn’t, or maybe didn’t, want to hold it in. I wanted her to know then and I want her to know now that I still love her. She’s the only one I have ever loved and I don’t think I will ever be able to just let that go. Obviously. It’s been two years and I still feel the fucking same.

When I get back into the house, I lock my gun in the cabinet again before heading straight upstairs. I need a shower and maybe a little scotch. This day is now over. I can’t take any more of it.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I pull my boots off one at a time before stepping onto the cold tile floor of my bathroom. I turn the shower on and close the glass door. Thick and heavy steam starts to build up like a cloud, filling the room and sticking to my skin. It’s like a sauna in here now. I take off my flannel and step in.

The hot water crashes onto my body and starts to dull the tension I’ve been carrying around for the last couple of hours. The burn temporarily relieves me of my thoughts.

Placing my hands on the tile wall, I lean into the spray, closing my eyes. All I can see are Sophia’s piercing blue ones. My body begins to swell at the thought of her. Remembering how she would look up at me when she was beneath me; the feel of her long, soft, hair as I would run my fingers through it. Her full lips whimpering my name as I took her.

Wrapping my right hand around my cock, I begin to slowly stroke myself, imagining I’m back with Sophia, taking her here in my shower with her beautiful tits pressed up against me. I start moving my hand up and down my length more vigorously, wanting her so damn bad.

My breathing becomes raspy as I start to feel the familiar pull inside as my balls start to tighten. Running my hand up and down rougher and faster, all I can picture is making Sophia’s tight pussy milk my cock. The thought alone makes my legs buckle as I feel my impending release.

“Fuck!” I growl through gritted teeth. It sprays against the shower wall. I wish it was inside of her instead.

I stand there for a few more minutes, catching my breath. Lazily climbing out, I grab a towel from the shelf and wrap it tightly around my waist, feeling a little bit better as I stroll back into my bedroom. I sit down on the bed and lie back against the headboard with my legs crossed and one arm stretched out behind my head. Once I’ve gotten comfortable, I pick up my phone and press call on Caleb’s name.

He finally picks up on the fifth ring.
Fucker.

“What up, guy!” he laughs into the line.

I haven’t talked to Caleb in a few months and one corner of my mouth lifts at hearing his familiar voice. Mine comes out a little raspy from my activity in the shower.

“Hey! Lux get a hold of you yet?” I clear my throat a little, trying not to sound like I’m out of breath or something.

“Yeah man, you down?” Caleb stops laughing and is in all seriousness now. Letting out a breath, I sigh.

“Yeah, I think so. I think it’s time to get back in there.”

I wonder if Lux said anything about the duet shit to the guys yet? Wiping off my face with my right hand, I let Caleb know.

“Listen, I’m gonna need somewhere to crash when I come out. I sold my place in Malibu last year. Is it all right if I stay with you until I find something?”

“Dude, you don’t need to fucking ask,” Caleb cackles into the phone. Before I hang up on him, he says, “So I guess Sophia will be singing with us on this one, hey? I think Lux said we’re doing mainly instrumentals, and Sophia is joining with us.”

Damn it.
He does know about it.

“Ah, yeah. I just heard about that. Do you know if she knows yet?”

I’m trying to keep my voice even so he doesn’t catch on to what I’m feeling right now. I’m such a pussy. Thankfully, he doesn’t.

“Nah, man. I mean, we just found out, so . . . I think she will be okay with it, though. That chick does have a killer set of pipes.”

I couldn’t agree more. On one hand, I’m excited to see how this song will come out. On the other hand, I’m nervous as hell to see if she will really want to do it. I mean, she made it pretty damn clear last time we were together that she was done with me. I actually fucking told her I love her and she walked away.
Shit.
I don’t blame her, though. I treated her like shit for most of the tour, then when she did finally trust me, I did something fucking horrible to her.

Sitting back up, I stretch my limbs out again, yawning into the phone.

“Well, I guess . . . I’ll see you in a couple weeks. Later,” I say to him.

“Later, bro.”

Caleb hangs up and I toss my cell onto the other side of the bed and fall back down on top of my pillows. I stretch both arms behind my head, staring up at the ceiling.

How am I going to smooth this shit over with Sophia? She’s mine. Always has been, always will be. I just have to get her to realize that without putting up a fight. On second thought, I’m kind of in the mood for her to put up a little one. This shit should be fun.

I feel my face starting to ache with the huge ass grin I’m wearing.
Yeah.
She’s just the fire I need right now to wake me the fuck back up.