Ice Steam (Loving All Wrong #3) (19 page)

Was he serious? He was going on about Jessica so casually as if she wasn’t the woman betrothed to my ex. Unless he was under the assumption that I was over Davian? Even if that were the case, why did he think I’d want to sit and eat at a table with Davian and his new love?

“Thanks for the invite, but I’ll have to pass.”

“Come onnnnnn, Ally!” he said. “Don’t do this to me. My balls are shriveling.”

“I’m sorry,
what
?”

A pause. “I dunno. There’s still alcohol in my system. But you
must
come.”

“Does Davi know you’re inviting me to his dinner table?”

A longer pause. “Pfft. Of course he knows. He basically suggested it.”

“You’re still a shitty liar, Jake,” I said through a laugh.

“Okay, okay, he doesn’t know but I’ll bring him up to speed,” he assured. “Just come to the dinner, if you don’t show up I’ll have anal sex until I die.”

Jake was totally still plastered. “I’m not getting the motivation you’re tryna give me here.”

“I lied,” he confessed. “I woke up with a terrible hangover. Jess has a secret concoction for hangovers, it tastes like piss, breast milk and tears. She fed me some before I called you. But see, before her nasty concoction works, it makes you super-happy and super-loopy, then it tackles the hangover feeling and all’s right with world again. Let’s just say I’m in the super-loopy stage right now.”

“So, should I write off this invitation as a part of your super-loopy stage?”

“Four o’ clock, Ally my Ally,” he shouted into the phone, “four o’ damn clock!” There was a lot of rustling, like he was moving fast, running, and his voice sounded far when he said, “The concoction also makes you shit your tripe out. So, uh, yeah, gotta go!”

The phone went dead.

I
t didn’t take more than ten minutes after Jake’s call for me to make a decision. My heart needed
something
from that dinner. But I couldn’t decide whether that something was from Davian…or Xavier.

The prospect of seeing one of those rockers was the incentive behind me heading out for Ninety Miles Villa, but I wasn’t sure
which
rocker.

Both men had dumped me. Both had moved on from me. Both men had made it painfully transparent that I was replaceable. Yet, my stubborn heart still clung to the chimeric notion both men were mine.

I was in limbo, a state of confusion, refusing to accept the truth.

As Mel braked up outside Eye Spy, my gaze automatically rose to the second floor. Last time I’d been there, an image had been burned in my skull that would haunt me forever. Thankfully, the blinds were pulled this time around, no cherry-tatted buttocks pressed to the glass.

“I’ll text you when I’m ready,” I told Mel as I opened the car door.

“No need. I’ll be out here waiting.”

That gave me pause. “Why?”

“It’s my job, Miss O’Hara.”

Backing up into vehicle, I slammed the door and leaned forward, placing one arm on the armrest console and the other around the headrest of the driver’s seat, deliberately rendering Mel uncomfortable. “How many of you are there?”

Mel had the gall to look surprised. “I’m afraid I don’t know wha—”

“Don’t address me like I’m stupid, Mel,” I snapped. “I can make up any story I want about you and get you fired. I
know
my cousin. How many of you did he plant to watch me?”

Mel sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two others.”

“Where are they?”

She shrugged. “They’re ordered to remain invisible. They’ll only show up in the face of a serious situation.”

I drew back. “Well, now you don’t have to pretend. We’re cool as long as you don’t lie to me. I’m only young, not stupid.”

“Understood, Miss O’Hara.”

I moved to open the door again, then paused. “How are you acquainted with Davi?”

Her eyes avoided the rear-view mirror, fingers drumming along the steering wheel. “I’m not exactly acquainted with Hamilton, Miss O’Hara. We just happen to have a slight agreement with a mutual acquaintance.”

“Is this mutual acquaintance my cousin?”

“Definitely not.” Her answer came back so fast I couldn’t decide whether it was from nervous lying or the truth.

I got out of the car. Upsetting about cousin Chad would get me nowhere. He would do whatever he wanted no matter what. He acted like he was king, his words were gospel, and his actions, no matter how intrusive, were justified. A thermonuclear confrontation from me would only end with one irritatingly calm, unperturbed line from him: “
Everything I do is in your best interest, Alina.
”

Why bother?

To get onto the patio of Eye Spy, I had to walk across a guitar-shaped glass pool. Kind of awesome, but undoubtedly insane.

With the all-glass design of the house, I could see most of inside from the patio—more sumptuous decor and extravagance—but I didn’t see an actual person.

I stood awkwardly at the open sliding glass doors, wondering if I should wait for someone to come invite me in, or call Jake.

Upon entering the villa, I’d sent him a notification text, fully expecting him to be waiting outside for me. With Jake, I should have known better.

I fired off another text to him, then did some more awkward dawdling, straightening my dress and patting my hair. I was wearing a cowl-neck, cream sweater-dress and flat, brown thigh-high boots, my hair loosely held up with a leopard-print claw clip, tendrils escaping and dancing around my neck.

Suffice it to say I expended no kind of effort into looking “gorgeous” for the dinner. I was wearing Versace last night when Davian told me he was in love with another woman, so I highly doubted a Dior dress would change his mind. I was wearing diamonds last night when Xavier stuck his tongue in some other chick’s mouth, so I highly doubted Jimmy Choos would change his mind.

Tired of waiting, I entered the house, called for Jake and heard nothing. After wandering farther in, I stopped and listened. Distant laughter traveled from somewhere. Following the direction of the voices, I ambled through a commodious entertainment room, which led into another airy room—well, not a room, but an
unbelievable
walk-through pantry. This led to a set of double doors, spread wide open like a whore’s legs.

I shadowed the doorway. An impressive dining room rolled out before me, with a table around twenty-feet long laden with a variety of food, from juicy fried drumsticks to lamb-chops, pot-roast, macaroni pie, grilled corn, apple pie, steamed vegetables, ribs, corn bread, brownies, home-made pizza, baked biscuits, fresh bread, cheese cake…there was
so much
food, it felt like I walked right into a scene from
Soul Food
.

“Ally my Ally!”

Jake was sitting around the table with Styro, the bassist, and Zach, the drummer, who was eying the food with obvious impatience, as though he couldn’t wait another minute to sink his teeth into a chicken leg.

“You’re a lousy scum, Jake,” I cursed at him. “You could’ve at least met me ou—” My words died when Davian entered through a door on the left, transporting a porcelain gravy boat.

Clad in a red thermal and distressed jeans, he stopped short upon seeing me, the crockery rattling on its saucer from the abrupt halt. Seemingly perplexed, his head whipped around to the direction from which he came, then to the guys at the table, then back to me.

“W-what’re you doing here?”

Lancing Jake a glare, I gritted out, “You said you’d bring him up to speed.”

Without even an ounce of apology, Jake shrugged. “I’ve been on the bowl with beer shit all day. It slipped my mind! My asshole is sore. Wanna see?”

Zach made a disgusted face. “And there goes my appetite. What do chicks see in you?”

“It’s not what they see,” Jake retorted with a wink, his right hand disappearing beneath the table to grab his crotch, “it’s what they
feel
.”

Enough of this bullshit. Marching to Davian, I curled my fingers into his bicep and tugged him to where the rest of the band sat, the gravy almost spilling from my aggression.

“Does your fiancée know about me?” I asked in a hushed voice, almost choking on the word ‘fiancée’.

Davian stared at me for several seconds through those twitter-blue eyes, as if trying to decipher whether that was a trick question. “No.”

“
Good
. Let’s keep it that way.”

As pain and confusion started to spread across his face, I addressed the other three at the table, “As far as anyone is concerned, I was just a hi-bye neighbor of Davi, but Jake and I got along well. No mention to anyone about us once being a team, and no mention to
anyone
about my deal with Lion on your behalf. Got that?”

Jake and Zach’s eyebrows shot up, while Styro eyed me up and down with resentment.

Buzz-cut dark hair, silver eyes, and a silent, dark and ominous kind of beauty, Styro wasn’t much of a talker. It was all in his silver depths. He was kind of scary, to be honest.

“I don’t get it,” said Zach.

“No way I’m agreeing to that,” Jake rejected, wagging his head emphatically.

Davian blinked down at his gravy. “Guys, I’m with her on this. Jess knows about her but she doesn’t
know
about her. And if it comes out now she’ll wanna know why I never told her. And…” His voice dropped to a low, hoarse whisper, as though meant for himself, “I don’t know why.”

“Bullshit,” Styro muttered under his breath.

Jake continued shaking his head, not game for this at all. “So, once again we’re supposed to pay for
his
shit?”

Davian started to reply but I cut him off, deterring a bicker. “Listen, this is not a request. You, all of you,
owe
me. Shut it, or I’m done with Ice Steam for good this time.”

“While Davi’s still alive?” Styro rallied, a smirk forming on his face.

“Baby, what’s taking you so long?”

Both Davian and I jerked around at the same time. And there she was, Jessica Stucco, the label’s daughter, L.A.’s sweetheart.

Jessica was a Texan. Her father’s a Californian, but her mother was a classy southern belle who, through misguided judgment, ended up getting knocked-up by an avaricious, power-hungry man who wasn’t about the humble, quiet life that she was about. So, she’d peacefully left him and moved back to Texas where she gave birth to her daughter.

When Jessica was eleven, her mother suffered an unfortunate death when held as hostage during a showdown with cops and bank robbers, a traumatic event that captured the headline for days.

This forced Benny to take responsibility for his daughter, so Jessica moved to California, and at around seventeen began pursuing an acting career. Apparently, making it as an actress was proving to be too slow and arduous, as her father’s name wasn’t giving her the automatic favoritism and quick fame she expected, so she quit pursuing real acting and starred in a vapid, superficial reality show instead, which gave her the instant, undeserved fame she craved.

However, she wasn’t the snobby, uppity kind of socialite we love to hate. She was dubbed the title “L.A.’s Sweetheart” because of her inherently sweet nature, bona fide benevolence, perpetual charity involvements, and, of course, her “adorable” accent.

Jessica Stucco was
loved
in L.A.

From beside me, Davian murmured “Sorry, babe,” then set the gravy boat down on the table.

Aww, what a sweet little rock star, assisting his soon-to-be southern wife with gravy and shit.

Jessica’s green gaze landed on me, assessing me in a subtle rove, and, maybe it was unconsciously done, but her neat eyebrows did that waggly thing most men’s did whenever a woman attracted them.

As her gaze finally made it back to my face, she smiled. Non-plastic, authentic, if not a tad sensual. “You must be Jake’s plus-one.”

Jessica Stucco had natural auburn hair that flowed down to her elbows, straight, always parted down the center. Her irises were the color of new sprouting leaves, pale in their greenness.

In a flirty white dress which made her auburn hair pop, she was a couple inches shorter than me—even with her in heels and me in flat boots—had a tiny mouth and a nose that was the epitome of cute as a button, a dusting of freckles on the tip.

She was dazzlingly beautiful, and I was jealous. I felt tall and awkward next to her cute, petite little frame.

Hate to admit it, but she fit Davian better than I did. Davian and I were almost the same height, but Jessica was shorter, which meant she had to do that romantic tilt of her head backward to meet his eyes.

Like I said,
jealous
.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Jake’s.”

Shifting slightly, I cast a warning glare over my shoulder at Jake.

“You two are dating?” she pried, her twang nice, but annoying.

Jake started to butt in, but I talked over him. “Uh, no. Actually, I know him through your fiancé. Davi and I were neighbors back in San Francisco. I used to be able to look out my bedroom window and watch them practicing in his garage.”

Her mouth formed into a small O as she glanced over at Davian, who was gripping the back of a chair, and then at the others. “So, you
all
know her, know she’s in town, yet it was the most classless member of the band who invited her?”