Heart Beats Read online

  Heart Beats

  Razor’s Edge

  K.L. Myers

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Rocky

  2. Kathy

  3. Rocky

  4. Kathy

  5. Rocky

  6. Kathy

  7. Rocky

  8. Kathy

  9. Rocky

  10. Kathy

  11. Rocky

  12. Kathy

  13. Rocky

  14. Rocky

  15. Rocky

  16. Kathy

  17. Rocky

  18. Kathy

  19. Rocky

  20. Cayson

  21. Rocky

  22. Kathy

  23. Rocky

  24. Kathy

  25. Rocky

  26. Rocky

  27. Rocky

  28. Cayson

  29. Rocky

  30. Kathy

  31. Kathy

  32. Rocky

  33. Kathy

  34. Rocky

  35. Rocky

  36. Kathy

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Bonus Material from Kathy Coopmans

  Other Books by K.L. Myers

  Playlist

  Heart Beats © 2018

  All rights are reserved

  Cover Design © 2018 Designs by Dana

  Photography © 2018 Eric Battershell

  Model © 2018 Ryan “Stacks” Harmon

  Formatting by Small Town Girl Formatting

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means such as electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author of this book

  This book is a work of fiction. Any characters, names, places, brands, media, and incidents are used solely in a fictitious nature based on the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to or mention of persons, places, organizations or other incidents is coincidental. The author acknowledges that trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Dedication

  For you, Lynetta…….

  If we look outside ourselves to find love and peace, we will ultimately fail. It has to come from within. Lead by example.

  CHESTER BENNINGTON - May 23, 2017

  Prologue

  All I ever dreamed about as a kid was being a rock star. I’d lie in bed at night and fantasize about being on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine. My four best friends and I setting the world on fire with our music.

  My parents bought me my first drum set when I was four. I banged on those things every waking moment. Mom would scream at Dad that buying me those drums was the worst idea they’d ever had. Dad’s response to that statement was to get me music lessons.

  By the time I was thirteen, I was playing like a pro. That’s when my dreams of becoming a musician started to take roots. My boys Michael, Neil, and Tim were on board with the idea, and we practice in Neil’s family’s garage daily. When my grandma passed away, I convinced my dad to let us move all our equipment into the guesthouse that was on our property. I’m sure Neil’s parents were extremely grateful to my dad since they were getting tired of hearing our loud music. Though, I’m not sure you could call it music yet; something was missing. Our little group was disorganized, and none of us could sing worth a shit. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the new kid moved in next door and became part of our pack.

  Cayson Razor had it all together. He was OCD when it came to music, and his voice was like butter. Where I lacked organizational skills, Cayson flourished. Soon, he had us all playing in sync and we started to sound like a real band. By the time we were all eighteen, Cayson had drilled it into our heads that we could be superstars and make a ton of money. And that is how it all started. We were just teenagers stumbling our way through the scene. Don’t get me wrong, we were good, but I don’t think any of us had any idea of how demanding or how hard a career in the music business would be.

  Not long into our careers, playing music became more of a job and began to lose its appeal for me. It no longer served as an escape but felt more like my cage trapping me into a responsibility I no longer knew how to enjoy. Therein lies the problem. We all agreed to do this together, and if one of us wanted out, then the band would break up. We were loyal to each other, and we weren’t moving forward if we couldn’t do it together. It was a stupid pact, but it meant something to us, and I wasn’t going to be the one to break it. So, I found the next best thing to help me cope with it all. DRUGS!

  At first, it was just weed. No one cared. It wasn’t hurting anyone or the music. But when it all started coming together in a good way, weed wasn’t enough. Cayson’s mom and her connections got us heard, and before we knew it, we were signing with a record label and Razor’s Edge blew the doors off the music scene in no time flat. I was starting to enjoy playing again. People adored us, actually worshiped us. Razor’s Edge was a force to be reckoned with. Everything we played turned into gold, and our band became a household name. It was a blessing and a curse at the same time. I was loving playing again, and we were making money at it. More money than we knew what to do with. But it wasn’t long until the label’s demands became more than I could bear. That’s when I found out that heroin made anything bearable. The burn through my veins and the brief euphoric feeling it brought me made every emotion I couldn’t handle disappear.

  I was in and out of rehab more times than I can count on one hand, but my boys stood by me every step of the way. Until the label gave us an ultimatum and I was forced to find new ways to deal with my inner pain and struggles. I may have been messed up as a person, but I still had an obligation to the band to be the best fucking drummer I could be. My obsession with ink took hold, and whenever I felt a little out of sorts, I’d spend hours under the gun, covering my arm with intricate tattoos. The pain from the needle was just enough to calm my mind and keep the craving for a fix away. When that wasn’t enough, sex took its place, and there were plenty of willing partners to choose from. Girls who didn’t care that all I was doing was using them. These girls just wanted to be able to brag, to say they’d slept with me.

  Like any obsessive person, I’d find one thing or another to obsess on to feel fulfilled. I knew my weaknesses, but I didn’t know how to deal with them, and I surely wasn’t going to share my struggles with anyone. So, I kept them buried deep inside until I couldn’t keep hold of them anymore and I would explode. The more I tried to self-medicate, the more of a disaster I became. Little did I know that all I needed was someone special to show me the light.

  1

  Rocky

  Cayson, or CJ as we call him, is my best friend. I am closer to him than any of my other bandmates. He is the only one who knows my struggles are real and the only one I will openly talk to about my problems. If I said he knows me inside and out, it wouldn’t be an understatement. Cayson calls me on my shit all the time and keeps me in check, but it wasn’t until I totaled some dude’s car and ended up in the hospital that for the first time I felt he didn’t have my back at all. At least at the time, it felt that way. But my stay at the Jennifer Waybright Center taught me that he really does have my back, which is the only reason I’m showing up at his fucking barbeque today.

  We’re supposed to have a month off. A month of no obligations to anyone but ourselves. I’ve been looking forward to this time away from everyone's prying eyes. When I say everyone, what I mean is Ellie’
s. After I slipped up in Amsterdam, Cayson called in the big guns: my sister, Ellie. She’s worse than a drill sergeant at boot camp, at least what I imagine boot camp would be like since I’ve never been in the military. She’s hardcore when it comes to looking out for me; not like I didn’t have to have her watch over me in the past one too many times.

  I love my sister more than anything, don’t get me wrong, but having her with me twenty-four seven is starting to cramp my style. I need testosterone around me, not estrogen. Even though my sister would never judge me, fucking a groupie every night is a little odd knowing my sister is around. It doesn’t stop me, though. I just have to find ways to be more creative about hiding it. I had plans to find my own security when I returned home, not attend a barbeque less than forty-eight hours from walking in my front door.

  I lean over the banister and call down to Ellie, who is in the living room reading a book. “Elle, I’m jumping in the shower now. We need to leave for CJ’s in thirty.”

  “Got It. I’m ready.” Her tiny voice carries up to where I am.

  I smile and shake my head. She’s so together all the time, and I’m so proud of her. Which is why she needs to get back to her own life and stop babysitting me. When our parents passed away a few years back, I worried about her. She was so close to our mom that I was sure she’d fall apart. Nope, not my little Elle. She rose to the occasion and stepped up. I was the one who fell apart and found solace in drugs. Elle handled everything, from meeting with the executor and the legal team all the way down to the funeral. And then she handled me. She needs to get back to her own life, and I need to find my own support. Cayson and I spoke about it once, but I could never find the right person. Now that I’m home, it’s my number-one priority.

  “There’s nowhere to park my fucking car. Why does CJ have to live in suburbia?”

  “Stop it, Rocky,” Ellie says. “He lives in a nice upscale gated community. It’s not his fault that you’re late and have to park on the street.”

  “Yeah, well, some little shit is going to be outside riding his bicycle and run right into my Bentley. Elle, go inside and tell Neil to move his Escalade so I can park in the driveway.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Ellie looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “No, Elle, I’m not fucking kidding,” I snap back at her.

  “I’ll do no such thing. Just park the freaking car, Rocky, and get over yourself,” Ellie says, tossing her hands up in disgust at me.

  “Fine, just fucking fine, Elle, but if my car gets a dent or a scratch, you’re buying me a new one,” I tell her as I pull up to the curb and turn off the ignition.

  She opens the car door, then turns to me. “Stop overreacting.” Then she steps out and slams the door in my face.

  I catch up to her when she is already talking to Kayla at the front door. Kayla and I exchange hugs, and she lets us know that everyone is in the backyard. As Ellie and I make our way toward the back, I look around the house. The last time I was here was the day I asked Cayson for his support in helping me find an accountability partner. It’s also the day I called him on his shit about Kayla. He swore there was nothing between them. I knew he was just kidding himself, so I’m glad he finally found the balls to admit his feelings and do the right thing.

  I scan the backyard. All the familiar faces are here, plus a few new ones I’ve never seen before. Neil is talking to a dude I’ve never met, but it’s the petite woman standing with a plate piled high with food who catches my eye. The plate looks like it should be sitting in front of one of us guys, not in her little hands. I watch as she makes her way over to a table and sits down, immediately digging into the food like she hasn’t eaten in weeks. She doesn’t seem to care what is going on around her, just about what’s sitting in front of her. Even though her plate is piled high, she’s very dainty about how she eats it, which intrigues me even more. I tell myself that this girl, I’ve got to meet. Not only is she stunningly beautiful, but she has an aura of badass about her. I acknowledge the rest of the guys as I make my way over to her so I can sit down beside her. She glances at me briefly but then goes back to focusing on her food, ignoring my presence. I’m about to interrupt her when the dude who was talking to Neil sits down beside me and holds out his hand.

  “I’m Rusty Wallace, and no, no relation to the driver,” he says on a chuckle. “That is my sister, Kathy.” He points to the beauty sitting on the other side of me. “Don’t mind her. She has this thing about food. We’re friends of Kayla’s, and I’m a huge fan, man.”

  So that explains why I’ve never seen their faces before. Reaching out, I shake Rusty’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Rusty. I’d say I’m Rocky Kohler, but I bet you already know that. Your sister loves to eat, I see.”

  “Hey, I’m sitting right here, and I can hear you.” Kathy turns, looking at her brother and me. Her beauty reaches in and grabs my heart, momentarily stopping it from beating. Her eyes are amber, more of a copper tint, and similar to the color of eyes you’d see on a wolf. They are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, and they mesmerize me. Her honey-brown hair flows over her shoulders, and it’s the first time I’m really getting a look at this amazing woman. As quickly as my heart stopped beating, it begins to pound faster. Just being around her has me tied up in knots. I’m usually a cocky bastard when I’m around a woman who interests me, but not this time. This time, I’m searching for the right words to even say to her.

  “If you’ve got a problem with my eating, then go sit somewhere else. You wouldn’t talk shit about one of your boys digging in, so why are you giving me shit about my plate?” The tone of her voice is just as badass as her personality, making my dick harden in my pants.

  I hold my hands up in defeat. “Whoa, hold up there, bright eyes. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just saying that you love your food.”

  Rusty peers around me to look at his sister. “You have no idea how much she loves food. Sometimes she can out-eat me. And I can put it away like no other.” He laughs out loud, and I join in, which seems to irritate the little sprite next to me.

  Kathy pushes her plate forward slightly before turning to face us. “Will you both stop making fun of me? I’m hungry, and you’re making me self-conscious, so stop.”

  I reach out in front of her, grabbing her plate, then stealing her fork from her hand. Just before I can dig in, tiny hands grab hold of the plate and move it from under my fork back to its original location.

  “Excuse me,” Kathy speaks up, “just because I said you all were making me feel self-conscious doesn’t mean I wasn’t’ going to finish eating. Geez, guys. Cut me some slack, will ya, and give me my fork back.”

  When she realizes I’m not returning her fork to her, she bats her beautiful eyes at me. “Please, may I have my fork back?”

  Rusty’s chuckle is loud and infectious. It makes me smile. Just as I’m going to hand the fork back to her, she quickly snags it from my fingers and digs back into her plate. I’m not sure why I find this so attractive about her, but I do. She doesn’t care who I am or what I do, which is hard to find in a woman these days. She’s not trying to impress me or dig her claws into me; it’s refreshing and frustrating at the same time. I don’t care that I’m being creepy; I just spend the next thirty minutes analyzing what makes her tick and how I’m going to get her into my bed. If it is even possible.

  2

  Kathy

  Oh, my fucking God, I think to myself. Did I just embarrass myself in front of Rocky Kohler, drummer for Razor’s Edge and the starring role of my nightly fantasies? If Kayla were here right now, I know exactly what she’d be saying. Nice first impression you just made, nitwit. He’ll never fuck you now. I quickly push that thought aside because I’m not going to go there right now. Right now, I want to finish my plate of food, then I can worry about damage control.

  I ignore Rocky and Rusty as much as possible while I eat, letting the two of them get to know each other. It’s not an easy task, though, to ignore the ho
ttest man on the planet. I know that Kayla hopes the two of them will hit it off, and for my brother's sake, I hope they do, too. Though we both have different reasons. Kayla, I think, is a little insecure about having Rocky’s sister, Ellie, around, and Rusty is the answer to her insecurity. Me, I worry about Rusty. He has been in a slump ever since Summer, his fiance committed suicide a few years back by accidentally overdosing. I wasn’t sure if Rusty would ever get over her, because he blamed himself for not seeing the signs. He’s been working as a bouncer at the Sweet Spot since then, and I hate that he feels that’s all he deserves to do. Right after Summer’s death, he got obsessed over trying to understand how he missed the red flags. He joined countless survivor groups and attended so many addict anonymous sessions just looking for answers. I thought he would possibly go back to school and become a therapist, but he didn’t. It’s like he lost all ambition when they burried Summer. That’s why this job opportunity is perfect for him. I hate that he works at that strip joint; he is so much more than just a bouncer. He’s a protector by nature. His aptitude to protect those around him has always been strong. When Grandma and Grandpa were alive, they always joked that he should join the military and become a Ranger, but Rusty doesn’t follow orders well, and he loves his sleep. I can’t ever see him getting out of bed before ten a.m., let alone allowing someone to boss him around.

  When I can’t possibly eat another bite, I toss my fork on my plate and turn my chair to face the both of them. “Are you two going to ignore me all night?” As if I hadn’t been ignoring them to this point.

  Rocky turns toward me before he speaks. “Little one, there is no ignoring you. You’ve had my attention from the moment I walked outside and saw you standing there with that plate of yours. I’ve just been waiting for you to notice me.”