FRAUD: An Unfit Hero Novel Read online

  When you grew up the way that I did, any kind of small dream seemed like climbing a mountain. I did that too. I climbed that sucker barefoot and gripping onto it with every ounce of strength that I ever possessed and now I own my own shop.

  She presses her lips together, then nods once, as if agreeing to drop the Beaumont topic, thankfully.

  “Just a trim, maybe some highlights?”

  My lips twitch into a small smile. “Okay.”

  Leaving her in the chair with a cape around her body, I walk into the back to mix my color. My client has beautiful honey blonde hair. I decide to mix a shade lighter and a shade darker than her natural color to interweave her lowlights and highlights. Doing this will make her skin glow and her hair look sun-kissed and gorgeous.

  “You okay?” Laurie asks.

  I drop my head, my fingers gripping the counter’s edge and I inhale a deep breath. “I’m okay. I’m stupid is what I am. It’s been nine years, how can I not get over this?”

  There’s a moment of silence, so I lift my head and open my eyes looking over to her, waiting for her to say something. She only shrugs a shoulder, sinking her teeth into the corner of her lip.

  “I would tell you to just get under another man, but that hasn’t worked. Honestly, I think you need closure. But I don’t know that you’ll ever get it.”

  “Probably not,” I sigh.

  Turning back to my mixing bowls, I concentrate on making the lowlight and the highlight the right shades. Once I’m finished, I grab the handles of the bowls, one in each hand and turn to face Laurie. She’s still staring at me, waiting for me to break into a million pieces. If I didn’t nine years ago, I certainly won’t now.

  “I’ll be fine. He’s just been on the news since he admitted himself into rehab and was recently released. Once all that dies down, I’ll be okay,” I lie.

  Laurie snorts, knowing my words are the lie that they are.

  “We’re going out soon.”

  “I have to go to my PawPaw’s this weekend,” I remind her.

  She winces, then nods. “I remember. You give him big hugs from me, okay?”

  “He’d prefer kisses, the dirty old man.” I laugh as I push the door open with my ass.

  Laurie throws her head back in laughter. “You’re right as rain on that,” she shouts.

  My previously soured mood lifts as I make my way toward my new client. I only know her first name and that she came in here with a gift certificate. Channing is gorgeous, slim with long blonde hair and wide blue eyes.

  “So, are you married?” I ask, noting the small slim band on her finger.

  I set my bowls down on the small rolling cart that holds all of my foils, brushes, and supplies to color her hair.

  Channing’s eyes grow even rounder and brighter at my question. “I am,” she practically squeals. “This day of beauty pampering was a Mother’s Day gift from my husband,” she gushes.

  “Do you have children?” I ask as I begin to separate and pin her hair.

  She nods enthusiastically. “I have a little boy, his name is Reese. He’s six months old.” She smiles.

  My heart squeezes. She’s young, at least five years younger than I am, if not more. I shouldn’t be jealous, and I’m not, except a little part of me is. I want children. I’ve always wanted them, but it doesn’t look like that’s in the cards for me. I mean, you have to date, fall in love, get married and more importantly, have sex to conceive children.

  Unfortunately, none of that looks like it’s coming my way any time soon. With a sigh, I smile and start to immerse myself in doing her hair, asking her a million questions about who she is, where she’s from, who her husband is and demanding to see pictures of her sweet baby boy.

  I find out her husband is an apprentice lineman and she’s from Gallup, which is about twenty to thirty minutes away. I hardly ever make my way out there, everything that I need is here in Burnet. But it’s a cute little town with a diner that serves delicious food.

  “Do you know Wyatt Johnson? That’s my husband’s cousin.” she asks as I’m finishing the foil on the last bit of her hair.

  I frown, tilting my head to the side. “That sounds really familiar,” I say.

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight,” I offer.

  “Oh, he and Rylan are a few years older than you then. They went to high school here, but they’re thirty-two,” she offers.

  I don’t tell her that I was the biggest loner, nerd, and outcast in high school. I don’t explain to her that my Friday nights were not spent at football games, but instead me and Laurie would have beauty nights and bake-offs with one another. I was not only introverted but extremely shy on top of that.

  Instead, I smile and shake my head. “Oh yeah, I don’t remember them.”

  She frowns, then looks down to her lap before lifting her gaze to mine. “I just thought you might because you said something about Beaumont and they’re all really good friends, even now. He comes into town often.”

  I blink, my eyes widening and my mouth dropping slightly. Not because I’m surprised they’re friends with him, but because I’m just now realizing that we were together for a year and I never met even one of his friends, that includes her husband or his cousin. If they’re such great friends now, then they were back then, too.

  My stomach twists as her last couple of words sink in. He comes into town often. That hurt from nine years ago bubbles to the surface all over again. I’ve become a professional at not showing my feelings in public when it comes to him.

  I smile, changing the subject and continue to make her look and feel beautiful.

  BEAUMONT

  My manager lifts a brow as he stares at me. I’ve been out of rehab for a total of six months and I feel really great, however, judging by the way he’s watching me, it will probably be short-lived. Daniel can be a bit too intense for me sometimes.

  “What?” I sigh heavily.

  “We need to do a big comeback tour,” he announces.

  Closing my eyes, I lift my hand and pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers. Biting the inside of my cheek, I inhale through my nose and let the breath out the same way. I try to think about anything calming, relaxing.

  Anything that isn’t a fucking tour.

  “I have no fucking desire to do a comeback anything. I wasn’t really gone in the first place,” I point out.

  Daniel rolls his eyes. “The label wants to market it as that. They’re talking about a complete overhaul. They want new music, a new look, all of it. They loved the one-on-one interview you did before you went into treatment, they want more shit like that,” he explains.

  “You mean more of me being vulnerable?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.

  He nods. “Stable, in a serious relationship, a down to earth look. They want something that looks authentic and not like an act.”

  “So they want me to act real? This is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.” I exhale. “And who do you propose will be my serious relationship, since I’m not currently in one and don’t have a desire for one at the moment?”

  He snorts. “You wouldn’t believe me if I said I’ve heard a lot of fucking dumb shit in my years, this isn’t anything new or surprising. Besides, they want to play up your small-town background. The girl can be anyone, but Andi Anderson and you have great chemistry, plus the world loves a celebrity couple. There’s a new proposition for the tour, they’re going to bring it to you, but I already know a little about it,” he rambles.

  “What is it?” I ask, sitting forward, deciding to ignore the shit about Andi. That’s never going to happen, not seriously anyway.

  “They want to do a set of concerts in extremely small venues, just you, your guitar, and the band at your back. No pyrotechnics, no jumbotrons, one hundred tickets per show only. Staying in each town two or three nights and then moving on to the next, starting in Texas, at your hometown or one of the small ones in the area.”

  I don’t react immediately,
I place both of my hands, palms down, on the table and breathe. I want a drink right now. I want to drink myself into oblivion so that I can just relax. Forget all of this pressure, this stress that is going to completely take over my life when this shit begins. I don’t. I know that if I start, I won’t be able to stop and it will affect my music, my soul, my life all over again.

  “I’ll agree once I see the terms and add some of my own.”

  Daniel snorts. “What are your terms?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

  “I’m putting a cap on the price of the tickets.” Daniel opens his mouth, but I hold my hand up to stop him from speaking. “My comeback tour,” I spit. “My way. I don’t want people to have to pay five hundred dollars for just one ticket. And, I want my hometown show to be free. I don’t care how you spin it, but that one is free.”

  “You’re demanding a fuck’ve a lot,” he mumbles.

  I shake my head once. “You and the label have earned quite a nice living off of my back. You can make some concessions for me, for this.”

  Regret crosses Daniel’s face, but only for a second. Because men like him don’t really feel remorse, regret, or anything other than greed.

  “Also, when you set up the meeting, my attorney will be at my side,” I state.

  He narrows his gaze, dipping his chin, then stands to his feet. “Fine,” he barks. I watch as he leaves the room.

  Pushing back my chair, I stand as well, but I don’t leave the room. Instead, I make my way over to the large window that looks over the cityscape. The buildings in Los Angeles practically glitter with gold in the sunlight.

  Fuck.

  What an illusion.

  This place is the deepest, darkest, dirtiest cruel place I’ve ever experienced in my life. I could never live here full time, surrounded by leeches that will suck you dry, discard you, and move on to their next victim.

  Without Gallup, without Wyatt, Ford, Louis, and Rylan, I would be lost to this world. They keep me sane, keep me balanced, but I’ve been lying to them about my problem for years, hiding it from them, ashamed and embarrassed that I would lose myself inside of a bottle every fucking night.

  Now, with this concert, I am going to have to go back to face them. I’ve been avoiding them since being released from rehab. Pinching my eyes closed again, I let out a sigh. What I don’t want to do is see the looks of disappointment on their faces and have to explain myself, my problems. Especially when I know Rylan has had shit so much worse than I ever could imagine.

  I feel like a goddamn pussy.

  Don’t I always though?

  Fuck, I do.

  Always.

  Chapter Two

  HUTTON

  Sinking down in the chair across from my PawPaw, I let out a huff of air. I usually try to make my way out to visit him every other weekend. He’s getting older and is lonely. My other cousins take turns, but I’m the only consistent one. I’m also the only single one, without a family of my own.

  “What’re up to, Toots?” he asks with a wheezing breath.

  Picking up my glass of sweet tea, I shrug. “Not much, just work.”

  “You need a husband and to have some babies,” he points out just like he always does, every single time that I come here.

  I nod, not wanting to answer him, not really wanting to talk about the patheticness of my current existence. PawPaw doesn’t just let it go though, no, he keeps on going, keeps digging that aching pit in my chest deeper and deeper.

  “Your cousin Charlene’s just had her third. She brought the little thing over to me the other day. Bless that baby’s heart, ain’t gonna catch no ladies he keeps lookin’ the way he does.” He shrugs.

  “PawPaw,” I scold, trying to keep a straight face.

  In reality, I’m dying laughing on the inside. Charlene was never known for her looks, and eventually she grew into the size of her head, but I have no doubt that her kids probably look just like she did as a baby and child.

  “Them kid’s been beat with the ugly stick, Toots, and you know it. Now, you were a beautiful baby, still a gorgeous girl. Which is why I’m pushin’ for you to balance Charlene and get to makin’ some pretty babies.”

  Sliding my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans, I shake my head a couple of times. “Sorry, PawPaw, I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

  He hums, reaching for his can of beer and I watch as he tips it back, gulping down the cool liquid. PawPaw likes his beer, especially in the heat of the day. He always says that it quenches his thirst, but I don’t know about that. It just looks like a bad habit to form to me.

  Personally, I don’t drink at all. I’ve never really liked how it makes people act. I don’t like anything that can alter someone’s behavior, change how they behave and how they treat others.

  When you spent your entire childhood in a household with mean alcoholics, you tend to steer clear of liquor. I spend the rest of the afternoon sitting on the porch with my grandpa, just enjoying his company, aside from the talk of my future reproductivity.

  Later that afternoon, I make dinner for both of us. PawPaw goes to bed around nine in the evening, leaving me wide awake and unable to stop my brain from working overtime. Grabbing my eReader, I head outside and walk over to the porch swing.

  Sinking down onto the swing, I tuck my legs beneath me and open the cover on my Kindle. Finding my current read, I click on the image of the sexy shirtless man that adorns the cover of the eBook.

  Inhaling the warm Texas air, I begin to read, allowing myself to get lost in the world that is nestled inside of the book. I press my lips together, trying not to think about the fact that this is my life, it always has been, getting lost inside of a book, inside of a fictional world.

  The only time that I threw caution to the wind was with Beaumont and I not only crashed, but I burned. I haven’t been sitting at home too afraid to date. Even if Laurie thinks that I am scared, I’m not. I’ve been on dates. I’ve even had sex with a few guys, but it’s just that none of them are him, and none of them compare to him, especially in bed.

  It’s so damn frustrating.

  Maybe I just need to settle. I wouldn’t be the first woman to have ever done that. I want a family and I’m only getting older. Twenty-eight with no prospects is bleak.

  Letting out a long sigh, I look out at the darkened dirt road that’s ahead of me. A dirt road that I’ve run barefooted across more times than I could even count throughout my entire childhood and even teenage years.

  I think about the girl that had hopes and dreams as she ran down the road, her feet slapping down against the dirt and rocks that line the drive. She didn’t know that only half of her dreams would ever come to fruition. That only half of her life was considered successful, that the rest of her life was empty and sad… pathetic.

  Unable to think about it for another moment longer, I turn back to my book, choosing to get lost in the romance story about an alpha male who falls head over heels for the shy, good girl in town.

  The manwhore who realizes that he wants only her for the rest of his life, that no other woman could ever compare to this heroine—past, present, or future.

  God, how I wish that could be my life.

  What I wouldn’t give for a man to have that kind of passion about me. What I wouldn’t give to feel wanted, loved, and desired.

  Sniffling, I shake the thoughts from my head and continue to read until I eventually am unable to keep my eyes open for a moment longer. Eventually, I slump down into the porch swing seat and fall asleep in the warm Texas moonlight.

  Something tugs on my toe and I quickly sit up, blinking as the sun shines in my eyes. Looking around, I blink again and my lips tip up into a small smile as my PawPaw shoves a mug of warm coffee in my direction.

  “What time is it?” I ask as I reach for the mug.

  He clucks his tongue and shakes his head once. “Six. Early bird catches the worm. Or in this case, fills their breadbasket. How’s about we get some b
reakfast?”

  I lick my lips, thinking about the diner which is about an hour away. They have the best blueberry pancakes around.

  “The diner?” I ask, my voice hopeful.

  “Go and get dressed,” he chuckles.

  My grandpa spoils me, he always has. He may have ten grandchildren, but we’ve always had a special connection. Maybe because he practically raised me, kept me safe when I needed him most, who knows?

  Hopping down from the swing, I practically run into the house, the screen door slamming behind me as I go. The sound of my PawPaw’s guffaw, at my excitement for food, in the background.

  BEAUMONT

  My attorney lifts his chin.

  The deal is done, his approval is what I needed to go ahead and sign the document. One hundred small towns across the United States. Three shows in each town, one hundred tickets for each show. Ticket prices capped at one hundred dollars apiece.

  Everything will start in Gallup at the same bar where I was discovered. My hometown, with my friends and family. With the people that I love most in the world. Inhaling a deep breath, I pick the pen up off of the table and begin to scrawl my name.

  Once the documents are signed and all of the sharks have left the office, I lean back in my chair with a heavy sigh.

  “It’ll be good, Beaumont, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to find a meeting. Luckily, those are everywhere,” my attorney announces as he stands.

  I watch him leave the room as well, taking my phone out of my pocket. I think about all of the people that were just in this room, people who all discouraged me from going into rehab and from talking about it publicly. They’ve changed their tune now that they can profit from my need.

  My text messages are still unread. Six months later, dozens of messages from the men that I consider brothers.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I type out a response, then copy and paste it to each of them.