The Fighter (A Foundation Novel, Book Two) - Published 10/28/14; Sample Only

(2) Where Can I Stab Myself in the Ears?

You would think after the hundredth time I would have become an expert on sneaking into my house, but I had yet to perfect my routine.

Call it clumsiness—call it carelessness—call it whatever you want; something always seemed to go wrong.

Tonight I just so happened to scrape my backpack against the wall as I slinked up the stairs silently.

From the corner of my eye I saw a flash coming from the living room, barreling towards me.

I raced up the stairs, no longer worried about the noise I was making, when I felt him grab my backpack, hurling me backwards.

Quickly, I removed my arms from the straps and dived into my bedroom, throwing myself against the door and locking the five deadbolts I had recently installed.

He was already pounding on the door—screaming obscenities, demanding I come out. “You can’t hide in there forever!” He growled.

I reached for my stereo and turned on the radio, spinning the dial so I could drown out his demands.

Unfortunately, this had become my life. I could barely concentrate while at home, so I did most of my studying at Peyton’s. She never asked questions and I rather enjoyed the company.

It’s strange to think that less than ten years ago I had the picture perfect family. Happily married parents, three healthy kids, and our house pets, Raven and Scarlett, our bunnies.

My father would have done anything for me back then. He never missed a little league game; always in the bleachers cheering me on.

I think it all began to change with my parents’ separation. I felt disconnected from my father, and I knew he felt it too.

The first big ripple was when they announced their plans to divorce and gave us a choice in whom to live with.

I saw what a wreck my mother was. She appeared so fragile and I couldn’t imagine not being there for her through the rough time, so I made the decision that I felt was right at the time.

Jax had always been a Daddy’s boy, from day one. He wanted to be just like him.

They tried not to make it obvious throughout our childhood, but my parents definitely had favorites amongst the two of us.

When I took my mother’s side by choosing to live with her after the divorce, it caused many ripples in the relationship I had with my father.

His banging had calmed down a bit but was still audible even with my loud music.

I took my phone out and texted Peyton. Hey, what are you up to?

In the studio. Capiche came up with this sick track! You have to hear it. She replied.

I can’t wait, I sent back.

During the summer, Peyton had taken a college acting class and met a gentleman who goes by the name Capiche. He was a rapper. After talking a bit, Capiche convinced Peyton to go back to his studio to check it out and the rest was history. They had been writing and recording together ever since.

In fact, Peyton spent more time with Capiche than anyone lately. I should probably be jealous in some capacity—but I trusted Peyton. Not that I trusted Capiche; I trusted him about as far as I could throw him.

You should stop by, Peyton suggested.

There was no way I would be able to sneak back out the front door. My only option was climbing out the window and jumping down to the terrace as quietly as possible. It wasn’t ideal, but I wanted to see Peyton; even if it meant sleeping in my car for the night.

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I never thought this could happen

I never imagined an ending like this

I thought you were my forever

I knew I lost you with the last kiss

I never knew what was in store

You left me wanting, wanting more

I couldn’t get enough

I had to be the one to call your bluff.

You never knew me, you never knew, you never knew me

I was wrong to think you would sire to me

Blessed be, let me think, let me think

About all the times you were so bleak

Like a game, like a real-real game

My poker face was lost in vain

Because I never thought this could happen to me

I never imagined an ending like this

I never imagined an ending like this

I never imagined an ending like this

I never imagined an ending like this

I had walked in as it appeared Peyton was in the middle of a run through. Capiche had clearly pre-recorded his rhymes and Peyton was singing the hook. I had never heard Peyton’s voice so full, so strong. It gave me Goosebumps.

Not to mention Capiche’s undeniable skills. He was as good as Eminem, if not better. His flow was insane. He was also white, Italian actually, born Chris Palazzi.

“Hey man,” I exchanged pleasantries with Capiche as he was sitting at the control board.

“How goes it Jace?” He glanced up at me.

“Oh, you know, it’s going.” I ran my hand stiffly through my short hair. “Mind if I…?” I was pointed towards the microphone button.

He shook his head without a second glance. “Go for it.”

I pressed the button for the microphone so I could communicate with Peyton inside the sound-proofed booth. “Hey babe.”

“How did it sound?” She asked, removing her headphones.

“You sounded amazing—what is the name of that one?”

She exited the booth. “It’s called ‘I’.”

“I could hear that on radio yesterday.” I kissed her cheek lightly.

“Serious?” Her eyes lit up big and bright.

“Serious. You’re the next Rihanna.”

“Except I’m not exotic whatsoever!” She cried.

“You’re exotic to me.”

“Oh, come on, get a room!” Capiche finally spoke up. Honestly, I had forgotten he was still in the room.

“Same time tomorrow?” He addressed Peyton.

“Sounds good to me, see you tomorrow Chris!” She hugged him briefly then swooped her arm inside mine guiding us out of the building.

“Should I be jealous that you are spending so much time with him?” I asked, only halfway serious.

“Get real.” She cracked a smile.

“Good. Now come here,” I ordered as I pulled her into me and lowered my lips to hers.

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A/N-

So, like I'm known for doing, I did loosely base Capiche's character off of a rapper I know -- his name is Capiche. And just to prove how amazing he is, check out this youtube link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ZzkSq_FzJE

Don't forget, if you're not doing something you love, you're not really living.

<3 Krista