Collaboration (29 page)

“Yeah, I hear you,” he says, his voice slightly shaky.
Aw, hell no.

I move my body as close as I can possibly get without touching the fucker and state in a deadly calm voice, “Are. We. Fucking. Clear?”

“Yes, we’re clear. You won’t hear from me again. Th-th-thank you.” Good, now he’s shaking in his fucking shit-smelling cowboy boots.

I grab the envelope from where I have it stashed, shove it into his filthy—literally, they are filthy—hands, and quickly walk away. If I spend another second with this dumbass, I’ll probably end up doing something I’d regret. And my list of regrets is already piled up high enough…anything else and the damn thing might topple over.

***

We walk into the green room at the American Airlines Center in Dallas and I march over to where everyone is sitting around on their asses, knocking back drinks even though we haven’t even rehearsed yet. Before I can open my mouth, Dre hops up and gives me a one-armed hug before backing up, saying, “Ace…where ya been? Man, we’ve got an after-party like you would
not
believe tonight. Q here’s gone and hooked us up with a sure shot, and we know you’re all pussy-whipped and shit, but the whole world don’t need to know that. Speaking of which, how is that piece of a—“

My fist is in his face before my mind catches up. Not that it matters, my mind would have told me to do exactly what I did. I only wish it were that feed store fucker’s face from earlier that I’d busted instead of Dre’s.

“One, I already warned you. Don’t talk about Taryn…ever. Two, don’t drink or get high before my shows again. Three, don’t talk
to
Taryn again…ever. We will discuss
that
after the show, and you ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til we do.”

With those words, I leave my crew speechless as I head to my dressing room to get ready. I cannot fucking believe my cousin is high right now, and I saw it the second I looked in his eyes. At least he’s in the rush and not on the nod, or tonight’s concert would be a disaster.

As it turned out, that’s exactly what it was. Dre was definitely off and the usual “chemistry” we have onstage wasn’t there. Even though it was obvious to me and everyone on the tour, the audience still seemed into it—for that, I’m only going to tear my cousin one new one instead of two.

Dre walks into my dressing room where I’m trying to cool off from that shitty-ass show, and I’m overheated in more than one way tonight. Cal is with him, and though he usually serves as
my
security, I have no doubt that he’s here for Dre’s protection this time. But I’m not about that…I just want Dre clean and back to his old self. After giving me a look that says to go easy on him, Cal steps outside and closes the door, most likely standing on the other side of it—just in case.

I don’t bother getting up but continue to down a big-ass water bottle as Dre throws himself onto a black leather couch across from me. Fine with me—he can sweat it out here all night or just man up.

“Look, Ace, I’m sorry,” he starts.
Good choice.
“I know tonight sucked and I ain’t gonna lie because we
both
know it’s my fault.” I appreciate his apology but that’s not what I want from him.

“Dre, I want you to drop the dope. We both know that shit is addictive and it’s got you, bro. I know you ain’t like your old man, but you sure as hell are actin’ like it these days.”

“T, you know I’m just havin’ a little fun. The smack ain’t got me—I got this. Why you buggin’ about this, Ace?”

“I think you
were
just havin’ fun, but it’s gotten out of control—and now it’s affecting my tour. So even if you weren’t my cousin and I didn’t care about you like I do, that
makes
it my concern.”

“Aww, I’m getting all warm and fuzzy inside,” he teases.

“You can joke all you want, but I ain’t laughin’, Dre. This has become a problem and I want it to stop. I know you were all kinds of out of it when you told Taryn about my mom and dad so I’m gonna give you a free pass, but what if next time you tell the wrong person and it ends up on every newsstand in the country?”

“Dude, you
know
I wouldn’t do that. That was Taryn and it was obvious she needed to talk to you. Hell, I did you a favor since you were too chick—“

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t even bother finishing that sentence, Dre. Regardless if I’m glad she knows, that was for me to decide whether or not I wanted to tell her—not you. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it…and I am sorry, cuz. You know I’d never hurt you on purpose,” he says sincerely.

“I know, bro,” I say, sighing. I’ve never liked fighting with my cousin and now is no exception. Usually we just duke it out, but this isn’t one of those issues that’ll just go away or that can be solved with a good fistfight. “Look, you’ve already done enough damage for one day, so how about we just hang at the hotel tonight? We’ll let the others go out and tear up the town and it’ll be like old times—except we’ll have room service instead of scrounging up scraps to eat. What do you say?”

He smiles and says, “Yeah, that sounds good, especially the eating part. I’m hungrier than a motherfucker and I
know
Texas has some kick-ass barbecue. You think the hotel’s got some of that?”

I groan, thinking about the ridiculous amount of ribs that I inhaled at Taryn’s dad’s place last night. Shit, that stuff was
good
. She and I talked before the show and I’ll call her again after Dre passes out, which by the looks of his droopy eyelids won’t be long. Better get some food in him, since there’s no telling how long it’s been since he’s eaten a decent meal. I reach out and pull him up by his hand, drawing him into a hug before releasing him, saying, “If the hotel doesn’t have barbecue, then we’re staying at the wrong damn place. Let’s get going and I’ll call on the way so it’ll ready when we get there.”

“
That’s
what I’m talkin’ about,” he says and just like that, I feel as if all is right in the world for the first time in a really fucking long time.

***

And things have only gotten better. Not only does it seem like Dre has cleaned himself up, but the tour has been selling out in every location with multiple requests for more dates and venues. Jay has even been talking about touring overseas, which means the demand for the music we’re making must be high. Of course, Taryn and I being in the same time zone would be ideal, but regardless of the distance, I feel like we are closer than ever. I’ve also been inspired to write songs like never before, and I know it’s because I have the best fucking musical muse in the world.

That girl has turned me into such a sentimental shit, too. Last week she sent me a CD single of the song she serenaded me with at the ranch, which is now at the top of the charts—and not just the country ones. Because of the song’s bluesy sound, Taryn’s sweet voice can be heard on all of the Top 40
and
R&B stations. The dedication on the inside cover also left no question as to who the song was written for, and I had to fight like hell to hold back the tears that threatened.

I don’t give her a hard time about guitar boy anymore either.
I’m
the one she took home to see her dad and had the guts to tell the whole fucking world that she’s fallen for. Even more importantly,
I’m
the one she talks to on the phone every night as she’s falling asleep, and some of the things we’ve been saying and doing, I
know
he hasn’t been anywhere around. Turns out, my little country girl can talk dirty with the best of them.

It doesn’t hurt either that there have been rumors that
Ryder
is talking about going solo, and I have no doubt it’s because Taryn chose me over him. Still, I’d pay good money to see his face at her concerts when she sings her new hit, written for and about me. And I’m sure I’ll run into him here soon, since Taryn and I are scheduled to sing our #1 duet live at the upcoming MTV Video Music Awards (VMAs). I have never counted down to anything in my life, but I know that I am exactly seven days, four hours, and thirty minutes from having my girl in my arms. Damn, life is good.

***

I remember the day my parents died like it was yesterday—everything was perfect in my little corner of the world. My mom and dad were helping those who needed it most by delivering boxes with kids’ clothes and shoes and God-only-knows what else. Hell, knowing them they were giving away stuff we actually used and probably even needed. I was having a good ‘ol time horsing around with the kids outside, throwing a football instead of helping my folks carry those damn boxes in. If someone had taken a snapshot of that scene and then compared it with the photos of the crime scene taken in the aftermath of the shooting, those pictures would have looked nothing alike. The first was the calm before the fucking storm and after—only devastation lay in its wake.

Today I finally get to see Taryn again, and per my usual luck, it’s also the day that
all
the shit hits the fan...

After arriving in LA late last night, I feel like I’ve just closed my eyes when I hear a loud banging and yelling at my hotel room door. I’m surprised to see it’s already light out, but a glance at my phone tells me I’m not late for anything.

I leisurely walk over to the door despite the apparent fire and Jay bursts in the room, throwing copies of magazines at me as he marches past.
Vibe
and
Hip Hop Weekly
, the two biggest sources of entertainment news in my world, both have pictures of me—front and center. Jay helps himself to a drink, and instead of teasing him because it’s too early in the day, I’m seriously thinking about joining him.

One glance tells me that
Vibe
somehow managed to find out the secrets of my past. My first thought is that Dre might have let it slip, but I instinctively know that he didn’t. Since I know for
damn
sure it wasn’t Taryn, I’m at a loss for who else could have known—and beyond that, who would have sold me out. Cal? No way, the guy’s too loyal and plus, what would be in it for him? He won’t take a penny extra from me, no matter how many times or different ways I try to give it to him. Quinton, Marcus, and Xavier don’t know—to my knowledge anyway—but even if they did, they wouldn’t squeal. And based on the string of curses Jay’s letting loose in my living area, I take it he didn’t know either.

“What the fuck, Trace? You mind telling me what the hell this is all about? And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me why I’m finding out from Vibe-motherfucking-magazine and Hip-fucking-Hop Weekly?”

“Jay, don’t everybody need to know everything about me. A man has a right to keep his past to himself, whether that past was good or not. You think I wanted my parents’ gravesite to turn into some fuckin’ tourist attraction?
Hell
no. My life in Texas was over the day they were shot and killed, and I don’t care what anybody says—that was my secret to keep. Nobody else’s.”

My words must have softened his hardened heart because his response is not what I expect. “I get ya, man. ‘Course, I wish I’d known so I wouldn’t have gotten blindsided by it. And it sure as shit could spell disaster for your career,” he says and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “But I am sorry about your folks. I hate that for ya, Ace.”

“Thanks for that, Jay,” I tell him.

“What I’m wondering is why you couldn’t keep it to yourself when I done
told
you what would happen?”

Say what?
“Dude, I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about, but—“

“I’m talkin’ about this!” he says angrily, moving toward me and snatching one of the magazines from my hand. Confused, I look at the cover of the
Hip Hop Weekly
that he’s holding in front of my face, and looking beyond my picture, I see a smaller photo of a girl that I vaguely recognize. The title screams, “Trace is going to be Dad!”

“Congratu-fucking-lations, son,” Jay sneers, but this time I don’t have any comeback—my brain is utterly blank. When my mind finally reengages, the first thought to enter it is Taryn. Even though I know she’ll know it’s bullshit, how will this affect her?

Jay opens up the magazine and I see photos of me and the boys and a bunch of women taken in—shit, that’s my fucking place in LA.

“When were these taken?” I ask him.

“How the fuck should I know? You’re the one in the goddamn pictures!”

“You know all those parties run together after awhile, Jay. This had to have been a long time back though, right?”

“Look at the date, bro…it wasn’t that long ago,” he says, pointing to the caption beneath one of the photos.
Fucking shit.

“There’s no way, that was after Taryn and I got together,” I murmur and Jay raises his eyebrow in response. “Look, I may be a lot of things—and none of them any good—but I’m no fuckin’ cheater.”

“Well, for your sake, I sure as hell hope
she
knows that,” he says and then takes a large gulp of his liquor. “I gotta take off. While you’re kissin’ your girlfriend’s ass,” he says, raising his glass before continuing, “and here’s to hopin’ she doesn’t kick
your
ass to the curb, I’m gonna be meetin’ with the label and the whole fucking media team to figure out how to spin this shit in your favor.”

He knocks back the rest of his drink before leaving just as fast as he got here. I immediately shake off his words, secure in the knowledge that he doesn’t realize how tight Taryn and I are—that our relationship is more than just fun and frivolous fucks. Jay can’t possibly understand, because I wouldn’t have either until I experienced it for myself. Taryn is the real deal and there isn’t a single doubt in my mind that she will stand by her man.

Chapter 19

Taryn

I follow Trace’s instructions to park in the underground parking garage and take the back elevator up to his suite. I shouldn’t be surprised when I find Cal waiting for me in the elevator alcove. After a nod ‘hello,’ he gives me tight smile on the ride up, but surprisingly doesn’t say a single word. Not that he’s Mr. Chatty Cathy on his best day, but usually he says
something
—hey, everybody has an off day.