Page 116 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

Joel points his finger to the man. “He’s the one who’s missing. My best friend—Key.”

And with those words, my world is ripped apart.

CHAPTER30

Love Bites

KEY

Two Years Ago

Iwonder what my parents would say if they could see me right now? Half drunk and wandering the Las Vegas Strip with my friends for a wedding that didn’t take place in a church. My mom would probably have a heart attack. My dad would remain stoic and disapproving, his palm itching to reach for his belt to lay more welts across my palms. But me? All I can do is think about how happy James and Becks are. While most people wouldn’t understand the desire to get married so young . . . I get it. Sometimes you justknowand don’t want anything to get in the way of building your own family—especially when the one you were given is so shitty.

The smile falls from my face as I think of what feels like another life. My life before the band, before military school. Before San Francisco. Back in Iowa, when I sat at a bus station waiting to run away with the woman I loved. But she left. She left me, and every day since I’ve thought about why I wasn’t enough. Why didn’t she want me? And our baby . . . oh god, to this day I sit and wonder if there even is a baby. Do I have a child walking and talking out there somewhere? Or did she end it as quickly as that last night?

I finger the ring she so unceremoniously returned, trying to imagine her happy. That it was worth it. That she’s living the life she always dreamed for herself. That all that heartbreak and pain wasn’t for nothing.

An arm wraps around my shoulders, pulls me back, and I smile as Joel leans in close. “Hey, man, I have a feeling James and Becks are going to ditch us soon.”

I look over to find our friend wrapped around his new bride, who yawns widely. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I glance over at Dave, who’s watching Izzy with a kind of feral obsession. He looks like he’s about two seconds away from throwing her drunk ass over his shoulder and taking her somewhere she can lie down before puking.

“There’s a strip club across the street,” Joel suggests with a smirk.

“Perfect,” I reply. What an excellent way to get the thought of lost love off my mind.

“Hey, guys,” James calls. “Becks and I, we’re going to get a room at the Flamingo for the night. You know, wedding night and all.” He grins. “How about we meet up at that diner by the chapel in the morning for breakfast?”

“Told you,” Joel whispers.

I chuckle and wrap my arm around James and squeeze. “Aww, Jamesey’s got to go take care of his wifey,” I say, making an obscene kissing gesture as he pushes me away.

“That’s cool,” Joel says. “We were thinking about hitting up the strip club anyway.”

“Yeah, well, don’t blow all your money,” James warns.

What else am I supposed to spend my money on? The woman I want is gone. The family I would’ve worked hard to support doesn’t exist. And my best friend? He enjoys watching the girls, therefore I do too. Because what’s the alternative? Sitting in a quiet corner to brood?

“There’s no greater purpose for hard earned cash than spending it on tits and ass,” I say to deflect, then pull Joel along with me. I wave at Dave, but he’s following along after Isabella like a lost puppy, and I start to see it happen. Them—together. Will they start dating? What if they end up married? What if Joel is next? What if they all end up happy and I’m left alone?

“So what are we thinking,” Joel says, clapping his hands together eagerly. “You feeling a Vegas team-up if it’s an option? Or you want to go solo tonight?”

I remember the exact moment that Joel and I figured out we like to share girls. We’ve always had the same taste in women. Or rather I could always find something in the women he liked that reminded me of Dusty. The first night it happened we were playing at some shitty bar in downtown Iowa before James joined the band.

We were both hammered and Joel was flirting with a pretty brunette. When I saw her, I thought about how her freckles were just like Dusty’s and how I wanted her simply so I could imagine I was with the one I lost. When Joel brought her over to tell me he was taking her back to our one-bedroom apartment, I couldn’t help myself. I kissed her right in front of him at that bar. Shocked by my own jerk move, I apologized immediately, blaming it on the alcohol. To my shock she wasn’t upset, just grabbed my hand, then Joel’s, and before I knew it we were all in bed together.

Deep down I know the reason I insert myself into Joel’s relationships. I know it’s really because I’m worried he’ll fall in love. That he’ll find his soulmate and it won’t be me. And that’s terrifying. I don’t want to be alone, because that’s when I’m crushed by the memories of what could’ve been.

I shrug. “Vegas team-up sounds fun. You sure you want to waste the motel voucher though?”

He laughs. “Who says it’ll go to waste? After we’re done, I plan on going to my own room. You can snuggle with the girl while I get some uninterrupted shut-eye. You snore like a freight train when you’re drunk.”

I grin, and the two of us walk up to the velvet rope walkway in front of the club. Thankfully, there isn’t much of a line, and within ten minutes, we’re being ushered inside. The speakers are blaring Whitesnake, and before we get far, there’s half a dozen nearly naked girls within a twelve-foot radius.

“I’m going to go get us some drinks,” Joel says in my ear, and I nod before watching him walk away toward the back of the club where a neon bar stretches the length of the place.

I love these places because the haze in the air and the music help to keep the memories away. It works like a charm. Naked women and loud music plus alcohol equals burying my feelings. Not exactly healthy, but it’s not like I care. I find a pair of chairs and a table off to the side of the stage and sit down as I wait for Joel. There’s a dancer on the pole before me. A blond with thick thighs, and I groan as I think about what it would be like to have my face between those legs while Joel fucks her ass. But she’s not looking at me. She’s trying to get the guy in the fancy suit to choose her and . . . yup, she’s got him. Lucky bastard.

Sometimes, it takes a few tries to get the girls to look our way. Strippers tend to pick the guys who dress expensive, likely assuming they have the most money, and ninety-five percent of the time they’d be right. But not with us. No, we have money to burn. Just waiting for the?—

---