Page 61 of Married to the Beasts
It’s a rare day of bad weather in Vegas, with leaden gray skies and rain pelting the windows serving as a perfect accompaniment to my mood. I’m pacing the house, slowly going out of my mind. I can’t focus. Music has always been my joy, my escape, but all I can think of now is how badly I’ve fucked up.
How could I have let this happen? How did I lose Hazel’s trust?
I know how—because she overheard me talking to Alan. But she didn’t believe me when I told her there was more to the story, that our marriage is anything but a joke.
“I knew I didn’t belong in this life.”Her words haunt me. I had no idea she felt so insecure, so out of place. I know our lifestyle is far from ordinary, butshe seemed to be adapting amazingly well to all of it—me, my brothers, our work, and everything that comes with it.
I swear, if I get another chance, I’ll make sure she never doubts me again.
My phone rings. It’s an unknown number, and I almost don’t answer it, but maybe it’s Hazel calling from someone else’s phone.
“Conal? This is Ember.”
“Ember.” My hand grips the phone so tightly I have to consciously relax it before I break the damn thing. “Have you—have you talked to her? She won’t answer my calls.” I sound pathetic, but I can’t bring myself to care.
There’s a pause, and when she speaks again, Ember’s tone is strangely gentle. “Conal. Do you love my sister?”
“Yes,” I croak. “Fuck yes. With my whole heart.”
She doesn’t sound at all surprised when she says, “Then what are you prepared to do about it?”
There’s only one answer, and I don’t hesitate to give it. “Anything.”
RAFE
We sent the studio crew home. We’re all too miserable to work. We got a lot of sympathetic looks and claps on the back as they left, but it didn’t make us feel any better.
I don’t know how Hazel became essential to us so quickly, but she has. I feel like half a man without her here.
After talking to Ember, Conal has an idea, a way for us to reach out to her. I hope it works. If it doesn’t, we’ll have to keep trying until we get her back. Living without her feels impossible.
When my phone rings, I frown at the screen. It’s an unknown number. Is Ember calling me, too? I hesitate, then answer.
“Rafe.”
It’s Celeste. My stomach tightens. “Don’t hang up,” she says quickly. “Please. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
She doesn’t sound desperate, like she wants to plead with me to take her back. She sounds serious … and certain.
Maybe that’s why I say, “I’m listening.”
BRON
Rafe and I stand at Conal’s back as he pounds on Alan’s door. We ditched our security guys, which may have been a mistake. I hope Rafe and I can keep Conal from doing too much damage, which is going to be tricky when I’m ready to choose violence myself.
Alan opens the door, and Conal bursts in. We follow him and I shut the door behind us.
We’ve never been to Alan’s place before. It’s full of Black Pythons memorabilia: posters on the walls, collectibles on the tables and shelves. It’s like a shrine to the band. Kind of weird, but I guess it makes sense, since we’re his only clients and we’ve made him a wealthy man.
Conal doesn’t bother with small talk. He grabs Alan’s shirt front and slams him up against a wall. “You son of a bitch,” he snarls.
“What’s going on?” Alan’s trying to play it cool, but his eyes are a little too wide for that. He’s scared. He should be.
“You staged the whole thing.”
Alan frowns in apparent confusion. If I didn’t know better, I’d find him convincing, but we’re here after verifying the facts. “What are you talking about?” he asks.
“Celeste,” Rafe says, and there’s an undertone to his voice that I’ve never heard before. “She wasn’t trying to sell stories to the press. She didn’t leave me for a Hollywood producer. You made it all up. She was just a sweet girl, and you used her.”
