Redemption (Tattoos & Tears - Brody Book 1) Read online

  “You alright, mate?”

  I look up and catch his concerned stare in the interior mirror.

  “Yeah, yeah, all good, cheers.”

  I plaster on a fake smile, as a look of recognition flashes in his eyes.

  “Hey, aren’t you Snake from Rancid Vengeance?”

  I smirk and nod. Fuck me, here we go.

  “The one and only!” I say cockily, and he smiles a genuine smile.

  Why not milk it for all it’s worth?

  “I’m a huge fan,” he says coolly as he clears his throat.

  “Thanks, that means a lot.”

  I smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. He’s about to speak again when we arrive at my destination. I give him the fare and I tip him generously.

  “Do you want me to sign something?”

  He nods, with an awestruck look on his face. He leans over to root in his glove compartment. He passes me a scrap piece of paper and a pen.

  “What’s your name, dude?” I ask.

  “Darren.”

  I nod, as I scrawl my autograph on the piece of paper and hand it back to him.

  “Here you go.”

  I wink, as he takes out his phone.

  “Do you mind if I get a selfie?”

  I shake my head.

  “No, course not, man, go for it.”

  I pose, as he snaps a selfie, and once he’s satisfied with the result, he puts his phone on the dashboard.

  “Nice to meet you, Darren.”

  He beams.

  “You too, man! See you around!”

  I smile as he drives away, and I head down the path with one hand tucked into my pocket. I tap the door softly and Amy answers the door almost instantly. She has short, black hair styled in a neat bob, which has been straightened within an inch of its life. She has flawless, coffee-coloured skin, her eyes wide and almost black in colour. She has a friendly, warm smile, as she greets me.

  “Brody,” she says softly and invites me inside.

  She pulls her cardigan closed and heads into the large open-plan kitchen, with me following behind her. She gestures for me to sit at the breakfast island and places a steaming cup of coffee in front of me. She takes a seat opposite me and takes a tentative sip of her coffee.

  “I wanted to apologise for calling you out of the blue, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I was fucking desperate, Aims.”

  She shakes her head.

  “Don’t ever be sorry for asking for help, Brody. I don’t dislike you; I just think you can be a little reckless, sometimes, but it’s not a bad thing. I see a totally different side of you, when you’re around Peyton and the boys, you’re not the bad boy that everyone else sees.”

  She pauses to take another sip of her coffee.

  “Was I surprised when I saw your name flash up on my phone? Yes, I was, but that was because I didn’t expect it, it caught me off guard, that’s all. Would I have turned you away? No, I wouldn’t, my husband was shot in the hip, I stood by him, even when he tried to push me away, when he called himself a cripple and a failure because he couldn’t prevent what happened. I know what it’s like because I lived it too. Every day I’m thankful to whoever, for getting us through that dark time.”

  I look at her and for the first time, I see her, I see the woman behind Cole Benedict. Behind every strong, brave man, is an equally brave, strong, independent woman.

  “How do you cope? I mean, every time I close my eyes I see Ruby and the fucking massacre of that day. I can’t hear a loud noise without fearing for my fucking life, I had a panic attack at my therapy session today and I passed out. How fucked up is that? I legged it from his office, because I couldn’t cope with him pushing me to talk about it, making me give a blow-by-blow account. I witnessed things that no normal human being should ever see. It broke a little piece of me that day, a piece that I’ll never get back.”

  I take a shaky sip of my coffee and she looks at me with a look of sympathy.

  “Don’t fucking look at me like that. I can’t bear it, I don’t want pity, I wake up every morning and I’m thankful that my life was spared, but I go through each day with a crippling sense of guilt that fucking weighs me down.”

  I take a shaky breath before I continue.

  “I held her hand, I whispered words of reassurance, I stroked her stomach, I made promises I couldn’t fucking keep. I told a dying, pregnant woman that everything was going to be fine, and I fucking lied! That’s what keeps me up at night, that’s why I can’t hear loud noises, without wanting to hit the deck. I can’t go to Sam, the boys, or Peyton, because I’m fucking ashamed, they’re too close, they lost so much that day. I can’t look Jax in the eye, knowing I held his fiancée, as she was dying in my arms, while he was unconscious. I’ve carried that guilt around with me for so fucking long.”

  My voice sounds desperate and unfamiliar to my own ears, as Amy reaches for my hand. “Everything will be ok, maybe you should talk to Jax. Does he know what you did?”

  I shake my head.

  “You’re not to blame, Brody, you tried to help.”

  I swipe a tear away from my eyes and scrub my hand down my face.

  “What if he somehow blames me? He already hates me for leading Sam down that dark path all those years ago. He’s stubborn, he holds grudges, and he’s headstrong, just like his mum. God, she’d be kicking my arse around this fucking kitchen, right about now, if she heard me talking like this.”

  I laugh trying to make a joke, but Amy rolls her eyes.

  “Don’t do that, don’t try to make a joke, it’s ok to admit you’re struggling. I struggle on a nightly basis, when I wake up to hear Cole shouting in his sleep, when I have to console Addison, because she wants to know why her daddy’s screaming in his sleep.”

  It’s my turn to reach for her hand and I squeeze it, in a gesture of reassurance.

  “It’s not been easy for any of us. I see it in the dark circles under Sam’s eyes, the faraway look he gets when he thinks no one’s watching. I can’t imagine what him and Peyton have been through, first J.D, then Savannah, his own fucking sister. We grew up around her, how did we miss that?” I ask rhetorically, shaking my head at the thought of my best friend struggling, just the way I do.

  I finish my coffee in one mouthful and place the cup down on the island.

  “I toyed with a lot of things, before I decided to dial your number. I was either going to one of three things, score, fuck my ex-girlfriend, or go to Lenny. The latter was a strong possibility, the rest would have landed me straight back in rehab, or at least sent me to a meeting. I feel so fucking pathetic. The going gets tough and I end up right back at square one. Two steps forward, three steps fucking back. I don’t want to be that person anymore, Aims. I want to face my problems head on, that’s the reason I ended up here. I’ve got no one else I can reach out to, because no one can understand what I’m going through, but you can,” I say sincerely, and she smiles warmly.

  “I’m just glad I could be of help.”

  I hear the door slam and it sounds like a gunshot. I flinch at the sound and Amy regards me with cautious eyes. Fucking hell, Hart, get a grip of yourself.

  “You here, sugar?”

  Cole’s baritone voice echoes through the house.

  “In here, sweetheart,” she calls, as Cole enters the kitchen with his walking cane.

  He cocks his eyebrow when he sees me sitting in his house.

  “Brody, this is a-surprise, mate.”

  Amy laughs.

  "I just popped by to ask Amy for some advice on some girly shit, that's all, no need to get those knickers in a twist, Cole!"

  The lie comes easily as I jump down from my seat at the breakfast bar. He just wouldn’t fucking understand the real reason I’m here.

  "I should get going, thanks for the chat, Aims, really appreciate it."

  I wink and kiss her on the cheek. I leave feeling lighter and my phone starts ringing. I see Rick’s name on my screen. I could
do without his bullshit psychobabble. I reject his call and head back home with renewed purpose.

  10

  Raleigh

  Monday morning rolls around all too quickly. Today, is the day I join Rancid Vengeance, on the UK leg of their “Symphony of Vengeance” tour. I haven’t seen or heard from Brody since that night. We had wild, hot, passionate sex, and I lost count of the number of orgasms he so willingly gave me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him and find his silence a little unnerving, even though it was me who left before he woke up.

  My driver, Cliff arrives a few minutes earlier than scheduled and I mentally go through a checklist. Hair dryer, check, straighteners, check, contact lenses, check. I drag my suitcase out of my hotel room, saying a silent prayer to myself ‘Please let my new apartment be ready for when I get home’. As I make my way through the hotel lobby, I spot my agent Paul and he greets me with his usual, warm, beaming smile.

  Paul Lyndsey has been my agent for eight years. He’s been in the industry for almost thirty and he’s at the top of his game. He’s such a professional and an absolute wizard at what he does, everything he touches turns to gold, literally. I attended Italia Conti Academy of Acting when I first moved to the U.K, when I was eighteen years old. Over the three years, I got my head down and studied hard, I wanted to be an actress so badly, I lived and breathed it. It was just before I graduated, I’d been attending auditions and I was tired of the constant knock backs and rejections. Paul taught a workshop as a visiting industry professional, and he was so impressed with me, he asked me to stay after the workshop and he gave me his card. He invited me to an audition, and he was blown away by my raw and passionate performance as Blanche from A Streetcar Named Desire. He signed me straight away and soon after my graduation, I got the job on my first film. That was all thanks to Paul having faith in me, taking me under his wing and guiding me to be the best I could be. He taught me so much in the early days and I’ll always have a special place in my heart for him. At sixty years old, he has jet black hair, peppered with grey, he is tall, with olive skin and deep, kind brown eyes. He looks like a distinguished gentleman. He has been married five times and has four kids, two sons and two daughters, and he is currently a mentor on a popular U.K talent show.

  “Raleigh, so good to see you, sweetheart, you’re looking fabulous as always,” he says affectionately, and I smile.

  “Hey Paul,” I say brightly.

  “I’ve checked you out and Cliff’s waiting outside. I’ve got a great feeling about this. You’re going to bloody smash it.”

  I hope I can live up to his high expectations. Paul escorts me out of the hotel, sliding my Michael Kors sunglasses into place, as I’m met with the blinding flashes of the paparazzi’s lens’. I instantly turn on my public persona and give them a shy, reluctant smile. They lap up the attention I focus on them, posing for the camera as they snap away, until they are satisfied with what they have. They allow me to climb into the car and I’m silent on the journey to the tour bus. I’m stuck inside my own head, stewing over what I’m going to say to Brody.

  All too soon, we arrive at the tour bus, which is parked around the back of the o2 arena, in preparation for the band’s first homecoming gig tonight. Cliff comes around to my side of the car and holds the door open for me. I crawl out of the car, as gracefully as I can muster, and I am impressed with the sight that greets me. A black and silver, sleek, double-deck bus, with heavily tinted windows, and the band’s logo down the side. It is exceptionally large and from the look of it, it is armoured. It’s eye-catching from the outside and I can’t wait to see the inside.

  Cliff gets my luggage from the boot of the car and helps the driver load it onto the bus. The driver is around six feet seven inches, average build, with long shoulder length, blonde hair, he has blue, grey eyes, and a beard. He regards me intently and I greet him with a small, shy smile. I feel like the new girl on her first day at school.

  “You look terrified, love. I promise these guys are pussy cats,” he jokes and offers me his large hand.

  “I’m George, but these guys call me Gorgeous George, or just Gorgeous, for short!” he says with a strong Bristolian accent, and I shake his hand.

  “Hi, I’m Raleigh, nice to meet you, Gorgeous,” I greet him.

  He instantly makes me feel at ease, as he smiles warmly and nods.

  “It’s a pleasure, my love, follow me, I’ll introduce you.”

  Paul pulls me in for a hug and kisses me tenderly on the forehead.

  “Knock ‘em dead, kid. I’ll call you in a few days to check in.”

  I hug him back and follow George onto the bus, wishing I came across a little more confident, than I feel. This is so unlike me. I am as amazed by the interior, as I was by the exterior. George leads me into the living area and sitting on the grey corduroy sofa, which spans the whole perimeter of the bus, is Peyton. I know I saw her a few nights ago, but I didn’t properly get a chance to take her in. Her photos don’t do her justice; she is absolutely stunning, even after having two kids.

  Her jaw length, dark brown hair, with electric pink and turquoise flashes, frames her face. Her vivid tattoos stand out on her lightly bronzed skin and the sparkle in her blue eyes makes her look younger than her thirty-one years. She has a little boy perched on her lap and she presses her nose lovingly into his dark hair. I stand there silently observing her for a few seconds, until she realises she’s not alone, and she looks up.

  “Peyton, love, this is Raleigh. Raleigh, this is Peyton, she’s Sam’s wife and one of my best friends,” George introduces her proudly, and I nod, trying to manage a more confident smile, but I think I end up looking like I’m in pain. Great first impression, Storm.

  “Thanks, Gorgeous, we’ll chat in a little while, yeah, babe? I’ve got some wine stashed away somewhere.”

  He nods. “I was counting it on it, lovely!”

  He winks, leaving us to it.

  “Hey, come sit, we didn’t get properly introduced the other night.” She gestures to the seat opposite her and smiles.

  “I’m Peyton, but you knew that already! This is Zachary, say hello, sweetheart.”

  She chuckles, as the little boy in her lap turns to me and I am stunned by how much he looks like Peyton. He has bright blue inquisitive eyes and a dark mop of hair.

  “The guys are doing a sound check; they should be back in a little while. I have to say it’s going to be nice having another female around. Don’t get me wrong, I love all the boys to death, but there’s only so much talk of women, shagging, football and Xbox a girl can take!”

  She laughs melodically, and I find myself laughing along with her.

  “I’m sorry; I’m finding this a little overwhelming, if I’m being honest.”

  She shakes her head and dismisses me with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “It’s fine, honestly, I was the same when I first came on tour, but you get used to it after a while. The boys are pretty easy going once you get to know them.”

  She leans back in her seat and Zachary snuggles deeper into her. She eyes me curiously and I suddenly feel way out of my depth. She cocks her head to the side and opens her mouth to speak, but she stops herself, which I find odd. I don’t say anything, as Zachary idly plays with her hair, twirling it around his chubby fingers. She kisses his knuckles to distract him.

  I am about to speak when I hear a commotion towards the front of the bus. Sam strides down the aisle and stops in front of Peyton and his son.

  “Angel,” he rasps and takes a seat next to her.

  He wraps his tattooed, muscular arm around her, and she sinks into him, his sheer size, eclipsing Peyton. His muscles are fucking huge, surely that can’t be normal? He kisses her on the lips and the kiss is so passionate and full of love; I almost feel like I’m intruding. He plucks Zachary from Peyton’s arms and he squeals excitedly.

  “Hey, buddy, come to daddy.”

  He turns to me, momentarily registering my presence and nods curtly.


  “Raleigh, nice to see you again.”

  I smile, and he smirks.

  “You too, Sam.”

  A look passes between Peyton and Sam, as Brody and the other boys enter the bus. I remember Jax from the club, his long, honey blonde hair sets off his hazel eyes and he has at least a weeks’ worth of stubble on his chin.

  “Hi,” he says coolly as I look up into the silver eyes of Brody Hart.