Protect Me: Oakville Series:Book Three (7 page)

“Thanks, but I have to get home and take care of some stuff before work,” I explain as I get out of the bed and search for my clothes. Damn! I wish I could remember last night. By the way our clothes are spread out all over the apartment and chairs are knocked over, I would guess it was one hell of a night. One I probably enjoyed a great deal. And by the smile on....shit! I don’t even know her name. Anyway, by the smile on
her
face and the googly eyes she keeps giving me, I’d say she also had a good night. Even wasted I don’t disappoint.

After I find my clothes and explain again to Isabella — she told me her name after giving me the death glare for twenty minutes — that we would not be seeing each other again, I head home. I’m sure most of the girls I’ve been with are great. For once, the “it’s not you, it’s me” line is not a lie. It really is me. I don’t deserve love or happiness. I left. Left her all alone with him, knowing he would kill her someday. It’s all my fault. I killed her the second I walked away. I’m nothing but a coward and a selfish bastard — just like him. What if I’m like him in other ways? I don’t think I could ever strike a woman, but I’m sure he thought the same at some point. As long as I don’t ever put myself in the position to find out, everything will be fine. I’ll be just fine.

I throw my keys on the granite counter and plop down on my brown leather sofa. I love this apartment. A two bedroom, two and a half bath, with a large eat-in kitchen. I also have a soundproof music room where my drum kit is set up, along with a few guitars and a mic. There’s also a game room with a few old school video games, a dartboard, and a pool table. With it just being me, it gets a little lonely at times, but this is the best way. I never bring any of my hook-ups here, just in case they can’t take no for an answer. This way, they won’t know where I live. I have friends, but no one close. Not since I lost Reggie.

Three years ago, I decided it was time to move on. Reggie had just graduated and was calling me, ready to follow through with our plans. I missed my best friend, so I told him to get his ass in his car and get out here. We were gonna follow our dreams and start a band — me on the drums, Reggie singing and playing guitar. We would just need to find a lead guitarist and a bass player and we would be good to go. Reggie was halfway here when a guy driving an eighteen-wheeler fell asleep at the wheel. He drove right into Reggie’s lane and hit him head on. Reggie was killed instantly.

Just another sign that I’m supposed to be alone. Reggie was the last person left who cared about me and now, he’s gone. Just like my mom. People who love me die. My decision to move on was short lived. I can’t have another person’s death on my hands. So, when I get lonely, I like the three B’s: booze, blow, and boobs. Not particularly in that order. It’s been working out just fine for the last three years. Looking at the clock, I realize I need to move my ass to get ready for work. A quick shower, a sandwich, and I’m out the door.

I park in the back parking lot of Last Call. I’ve been working here since I first came to L.A. five years ago. I started out cleaning and fetching things for the bands or the owner because of my age. Now, I’m bartending. It’s a great gig; lots of hot chicks to flirt with and I get to listen to all of the hottest bands. The club itself isn’t anything special, but it’s packed every single night. I’d like to think it’s due to the exceptional bartender, but it’s probably the awesome live bands here every night of the week. Tonight, Deuce, a local band, is playing. They’ve played here a few times before and they’re really talented. These guys will make it big someday.

Tonight is crazy busy. Deuce drew in a bigger crowd than usual. A commotion at the far end of the bar gets my attention. A young guy is trying to sit at one of the stools and he’s clearly had too much to drink. He had to have come here that way. He looks a few years younger than me and I know I didn’t serve him. Something about him reminds me of Reggie. I make my way to the other side of the bar as a group of assholes start hassling him. They’ve obviously had way more to drink than this dumbass guy who has no fear and doesn’t know when to shut his big mouth. It’s almost like he’s trying to get the shit beat out of him. Not only does it remind me of the time I saved Reggie from getting beat up, but I see something in this guy. Something I see in myself when I look in the mirror. He’s broken, too. He wants these guys to hurt him so it takes away whatever pain he’s running from. He wants to feel anything other than what he normally feels on a daily basis. I know that feeling all too well.

I nod to the bouncers at the door and they are quickly by my side. Things have escalated and the biggest guy in the group shoves the guy sitting by himself. I grab the big guy’s shoulder and spin him around so he’s facing me. The three bouncers hold off the rest of the group.

“Do we have a problem here?” I ask. Luckily, the guy is a foot shorter than me and so drunk, he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.

“We don’t. This guy does,” he slurs as he tries to wiggle from my grip to get to the younger guy. “He spilled my beer and when I told him to apologize, he told me to fuck off.” I couldn’t stop the laugh that escapes my mouth. The kid is ballsy, I’ll give him that. Not too smart for running his mouth like that when he’s alone against five other guys who are clearly looking for a fight, but ballsy.

“I think it’s time you all went home. There’s not going to be any trouble in here tonight. Forget about your tab and walk out the door.” They all look at each other and then at me and the bouncers.

“Fine. Fuck it. He wouldn’t have been much of a challenge anyway,” he sputters and they all turn to leave. The kid looks pretty pissed at me for ruining his chance at a fight. I have to agree with the other guy though; this kid wouldn’t be much of a challenge. I don’t think all the alcohol in his system would have even been the factor. I honestly don’t think he would’ve fought back.

“Thanks, man, but I had that,” the kid says.

“If by had that you mean had a major ass kicking coming your way then, yeah you had that,” I joke. To my surprise, he bursts out laughing. I put my hand out and introduce myself. “I’m Paul.” He shakes my hand.

“Kyle. Thanks again. I didn’t mean to start any trouble for ya.”

“No problem, but I think you’ve probably had enough to drink tonight. And I have a feeling I won’t be able to serve you anyway, so it might be a good time for you to call it a night as well.” He seems like a nice guy and I hate having to kick him out, but I really have no choice. He smiles and nods his head.

“Yeah, I think calling it a night is a good idea. I’ve caused enough trouble for one night. It was nice meeting ya, Paul. Thanks again for the save,” Kyle responds.

“Anytime. Have a good night,” I tell him as the bouncers follow him to the door. I still can’t believe how much he reminds me of Reggie. Right down to meeting him in basically the same way I met Reggie — saving him from getting an ass whooping. I shake the thoughts from my head and laugh. I sure do miss Reggie. I miss having a close friend, but I know it’s not a good idea for the poor soul who chooses to be my friend.

The rest of the night goes by smoothly. By the time I finish cleaning up after we close, it’s three in the morning. I lock the back door and start walking to my car. There’s a car parked in the back of the lot that shouldn’t be there. I walk over to take a closer look. A shadow glaring from the streetlight shows someone is reclined in the front seat. When I get up next to the window, I immediately recognize the person as Kyle, the guy from earlier. The inside of the car is trashed. Various wrappers from fast food joints are strewn all over the front seat and the floor. Clothes are scattered around the backseat. It looks as if he might be living in his car. Not really a smart thing to do in this neighborhood, but not really my problem. I turn and start to walk back to my own car. About halfway there, I see Reggie’s face and can imagine him telling me I can’t leave this guy alone like this.

“Ah shit!” I hiss. I can’t believe I’m gonna do this. I go back over and lightly tap on his window. He jumps up. Once he recognizes me, he opens his door and steps out of the car.

“Hey, man. I can move the car. I didn’t see any signs that said no parking or anything, so I figured I was okay for the night,” he stammers. I feel bad for the guy. The Florida plates show he’s a long way from home and I can’t help but wonder what it is he’s running from.

“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but it looks like you’re living in your car. If you need a place to crash, I have an extra bedroom. You’re welcome to it until you find a place.” He seems taken aback by my offer. I guess I don’t blame him. I would be too if some guy I just met offered me a place to stay.

“You do like women, right?” he jokes as he starts to laugh, breaking the tension. At least he has a sense of humor.

“Oh, so you’re a funny fucker. You gonna follow me or not?” I ask as I start walking to my car. I’m kinda hoping he says yes. I think I could get along well with this guy.

“Yeah, I’ll follow you, as long as you promise not to put the moves on me.” He laughs and gets into his car.

T
HIS LAST
year has been a whirlwind. So much changed after meeting Kyle. We hit it off right away. I really tried to fight against becoming close friends with him, but it was no use. He is so much like Reggie…it’s a little freaky at times. It’s almost as if Reggie sent him to me to get my ass back to enjoying life. Whatever the reason and however he got here, I’m thankful for it. I didn’t like being so alone. I still haven’t, nor will I, changed my mind when it comes to a romantic relationship, but it’s nice to have a good friend again. Besides, Kyle is broken like me. His girl tore his heart out, threw it on the ground, and then stopped the fucker into dust. That boy was a mess for a long time. He still is, even though he’ll never admit it.

I was able to get him a job at the club and he moved into the guest room permanently. After we both admitted our dream was to play music, we decided to put a band together. Kyle had a name already picked out. Inspired by the girl who so brutally dusted his heart, he wanted to name the band Bleeding Hearts. It was fine with me. Chicks would eat it up. A few auditions later and we had found the perfect guys: Marcus Winters, who plays bass, and Angel Walker, our lead guitarist. The four of us have been inseparable over the last year, living the typical rock and roll lifestyle of sex, drugs, and booze. We’ve also become pretty well known here in L.A. Life has been good.

So, why am I sitting at the end of the bar by myself while my bandmates are celebrating? We were just offered a recording contract. This is what we’ve all always said we wanted. A shot at the big time. A chance to be rich and famous. Play sold out stadiums and tour the world. Problem is…I don’t think it’s what I want anymore. The rocker lifestyle is starting to get to me and the real shit hasn’t even begun. I’m not enjoying it as much as I used to. My drug and alcohol consumption will only increase and it’s already out of control. I just don’t want to ruin it for the other guys. This is their dream, too. I still love playing music. I was happiest when we first started playing at Last Call a couple nights a week. I actually enjoy being a bar manager slash bartender.

“What’s up? I thought you’d be more excited than anyone. Something wrong? ” Kyle questions as he slides a shot in front of me. He sits on the stool next to me and waits for my answer. He knows something’s up, but do I really want to tell him the truth? I’ve never lied to him before, so there’s no sense in starting now. I grab the shot and down it. Maybe it will help ease the sting when my friend laughs at me for being a moron. Who would choose to be a bartender over a rock star?

“I don’t think I really want this recording deal. I like playing the small clubs and bars when we feel like it,” I spit out. Taking a deep breath, I look up to gauge his reaction. He’s just nodding his head. He knows there’s more and he’s letting me get it all out before he chimes in. “I already feel like I’m out of control with the partying all the time. It would only get worse and that scares me. Right now, I can control it. I can stop the drugs and slow the drinking. Mix in touring, fame, and groupies…I think I’d be too far gone to ever stop it,” I confess. There’s no expression on his face to give away what he’s thinking. With shaky hands, I pick up my beer and take a long pull. I wish he’d say something already.