Uncut (Unexpected Book 4) (57 page)

I don’t need them for anything. But I won’t tell him that. So far I haven’t done anything extraordinary. However, there’s so much more coming up. Now that I don’t have a reason to live in Seattle part-time, things will change. My friends from school are the ones bringing me fresh shit, new developing shows, and some different ways to stream what we produce. Stuff that his board doesn’t approve and gets pushed back. I can’t fight them, and I’m not speaking to Gabe when so much is already going on.

“I’m heading upstairs, and then after I’ll go to my place and work on this,” I say, hugging them both.

“Hey, Butterfly,” I greet her, stepping inside the open door. “How’s the break treating you?”

“Why don’t you hate me?” She lifts her gaze. “Sorry, I think I’m at the self-loathing stage.” Her hands continue knitting. “Pria left me a few pints of ice cream for later—part of the break-up process, she said. I’m ridiculous. Who wallows for a guy while already dating an amazing man?” She stops knitting and raises her hand. “Me. I do.”

She shakes her head. “Honestly, my floundering has to do with everything, not only
Tristan
. My parents, the invasion of my privacy. That bitch taped me having sex with her brother. Any normal human being would be disgusted by it and walk away. Not her. She taped her brother with both of us. Sold him, and along with him, us. According to Mason, she made about a million dollars. After she invaded our privacy, her brother says, ‘
I can’t be with you.
’
”
She touches her key pendant and shakes her head. “You know I adore you, right?” I nod. “If it wasn’t because I’m all cried out, I’d cry a little more.” She pats the space next to her. “What’s up with you, Mattie?”

I shut the door and approach her, take off my shoes, and jump in bed next to her. “Let’s see. I’ve barely slept for the past four days. My girlfriend is having an emotional breakdown because our boyfriend left us. That does sound pretty ridiculous.” Fucking asshole. We’re trash. Well, the trash is making sure that his sister spends some time in jail and faces a big civil lawsuit. Jail time is a present from Mason Bradley who can create false evidence and make it stick. “Of course it hurts that Tristan reacted that way, but I’m not surprised. Today I planned to sleep, because tomorrow I wanted to come by and beg you to snap out of this pity-party you’re having. It didn’t happen, my parents called. Your father—”

“What the hell did he do now?” She shakes her head.

Thea listens to my explanation and rolls her eyes. “Oh Martin. He can’t let an opportunity get away from him, can he?” She lowers her face and kisses me. “So if all the other plans fail, this show is our last resource to stop him?” I nod. “Well then, let’s start working on it. With any luck we’ll finish tonight and be ready to shut him down tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl; I found her.” I pull her to me, kissing her deeply. “Let’s get reacquainted first, just to make sure we’re synchronized on that loving thing.”

Thea leaves the bed and locks the door. A playful smile appears on that pretty face and unlike other times, she’s the one undressing. Maybe tomorrow we can discuss her reaction about not being pregnant. It went from I really don’t want a baby to crying for no apparent reason. The idea of a baby was terrifying when I saw the tests, then exciting while we waited, and sad when we found out we weren’t expecting a baby. Someday soon, when the waters calm once again, we’ll be able to plan a future. Our future.

M
artin Levitz is riding his new fifteen minutes of fame. Giving interviews about his old band, how they’re planning on coming together, and how thrilled he is that his daughter is with his best friend’s son. The first step to avoid the band’s reunion was to make sure there weren’t enough participants for it. The bassist and rhythm guitarist for Dreadful Souls were two understanding men who accepted the amount of five million dollars to reject Martin’s idea for a reality show, or any other idea that he might come up with. My lawyer made them sign a few contracts that secure our negotiations for the rest of their natural lives.

As expected, Martin Levitz wasn’t as understanding and kicked our lawyers out of his home. Today I’m outside his home in Hollywood, California, to reason with him. Part of my reasoning team includes Jacob, Mason, and Arthur Bradley. The place requires a lot of renovations, a coat of paint, and some water for the brown grass.

“Can I help you?” A thin, attractive platinum blonde opens the iron gate, not waiting for us to respond.

“Jessica?” Arthur’s question makes the woman push up her shades. A pair of violet-blue, bloodshot eyes try to focus on him. Recognition flickers in her eyes, and just now I’m reminded that Arthur was with the band. Well, part of their crew. Jessica’s shoulders slump, but she doesn’t say a word. “We’re here to talk to your husband, Martin.”

“Ah. He’s in the Jacuzzi.” As I look at her, I only find one thing in common with Thea: the eyes. She’s short in comparison to Thea’s almost five ten, and her features are plain as compared to the delicate, beautiful ones of her daughter’s. “Follow me.” She lets the shades rest on the bridge of her nose and waves her hand, walking away.

We circle the property and find Martin wrapping a towel around him. When his attention moves toward us, he points at Jacob and me. “You two are the spitting image of the gay fucker who took Christian away.” Martin greets us, bending to the table next to him and grabbing a bottle of Vodka. “If I had known my friend liked a stick up his ass I’d have done it for him.” That simple statement might be the reason to throw a punch at his face. “I always knew there was something strange about Christian’s friendship with the pretty-boy actor.”

Jacob touches his jaw and I shake my head. Too early to release the first punch. Pops warned us: Martin carried a lot of poison and knew where to strike.
“Don’t let them goad you boys.”

“Arthur, still working as the guard dog and now babysitting?” Martin stares at Arthur before taking another swig.

Arthur glowers at him but maintains his indifferent façade. Not even I know what he’s thinking or if, like me, he wants to shut Martin up by drowning him in the Jacuzzi. I don’t; instead I pull the folder from my laptop bag. “Mr. Levitz, we’re here to discuss the reality show you proposed to your former bandmates.” I hand him the papers. “My lawyers sent you a draft. I want to make sure that I understand what you need to accept it.”

He pushes the folder back to me and laughs. “I received it, but no can do.” I give him back the papers. “Boy, you’re serious about that shit.” He shakes his head. “I hit the jackpot the moment you fucked that little whore—with another man. I’ve been working on this deal for months. She didn’t tell you? We send her to rehab, I put the band together to pay the bills. People eat that shit. The cunt owes me that much.”

I can’t be civil. He’s calling his daughter—my girlfriend—a cunt. How could he do that? My fist reacts first, but it only hits rock-solid muscle. Arthur Bradley is choking Martin. So much for bringing back-up to keep us steady and from doing stupid shit.

“Dad, don’t do anything stupid,” Mason orders his father. “We’re here to settle shit, not revenge.”

“Yeah, what’re we settling exactly?” I point at the little love fest between hands of steel and douche man. “My father won’t deal well if he learns there’s a body buried in the Himalayas because of him.” My sense of humor kicks in pretty fast, because I fear that Arthur has lost his last marble and is about to commit murder.

“Arthur, leave him alone,” Jessica orders.

Arthur cranks his neck and gives her a glare that makes me want to hide behind his son. This is a side of him I’ve never witnessed. Jacob’s widened eyes must match mine.

“I will when he assures me that he’s leaving
her
alone. For the past days I’ve listened to the shit he put her through, that you put her through. Why?” he barks. Just as Mason gets closer and tries to release his father’s hands from Martin’s neck, Jacob and I take a few steps backward. “If you had told me, I’d have taken her with me.”

Jacob and I stare at each other then watch the pretty crazy display in front of us.

“Well, I picked up the slack for you, fucker,” Martin says, from the uncomfortable position he’s in. “I gave her a home, food, and a family. All from the bottom of my good heart after that bitch decided to fuck the guard dog—for years.”

“Kids, I need you to wait for me in the car. Take those two,” Arthur orders, pointing at the bimbos in the Jacuzzi.

“No.” Mason hands towels to the bimbos. “I’m staying. It’s a family matter, Dad. Not only about my in-laws, but also my sister.” He turns to look at us. “You heard him, to the car. Dump these two wherever.”

Sister? Jacob and I give each other an inquisitive look, and we’re both at a loss. Mason narrows his gaze and we follow instructions, because if there’s something we learned at an early age, it is that you don’t fuck with the Bradleys. You do as they say, no questions asked. The bimbos jump in a red convertible and leave the premises, as we jump into the car and wait. Shocked by the news about Thea and Arthur, I remain quiet for several minutes. As I’m about to speak, Arthur and Mason arrive, sending us to the backseats.

Once Mason pulls out of the parking spot, Arthur hands me the folder. “He signed, for free. Tomorrow my lawyer will finish up a few other things.”

“Thea?” I want to know if they’ll stop harassing her.

“He won’t ever mention her name if he knows what’s best for him,” Arthur informs, giving me a murderous glare.

I’m a dead man.

Mason clears his throat as we approach a red light. When we come to a complete stop, he glances at me and delivers his best assassin face. “You better stay away from
my
little sister,” he warns me. “Because things might get ugly. If they do, I’ll tie you to your drums and beat you with your sticks until you can’t remember your own name. Do we have an understanding, Decker?”

“I love his memory.” Jacob sits back and relaxes. “Sorry, Matthew, you’re screwed.”

I slap Jacob on the back of his head. Idiot.

“When are you telling Thea about the paternity, Arthur?”

He cranks his neck and gives me that scary glare that keeps me shut. “None of your business.” I salute him and keep my mouth shut.