Heavy Metal (A Badboy Rockstar Romance) (3 page)

“I – I don’t have anywhere to go,” I said tearfully, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” Brandon said kindly, reaching out to take my hand.  He gave it a squeeze and then told me, “I’m actually staying a couple hours away in the city, and the hotel I’m at is pretty nice as far as hotels go.  Why don’t you come with me?  I’ll get you a room.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” I protested. 

“You didn’t,” he pointed out.  “I offered.”

Where else was I supposed to go?  I didn’t have a lot of options.  It was a Sunday, which meant every business in the small, old fashioned town I lived in would be closing early.  And the nights were chilly – too cold to stay on the street.  I didn’t have a lot of options, so I reluctantly agreed to let Brandon drive me into the city.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him studying me.  His eyes went to my hands, which I realized were tightly clasped in my lap, a dead giveaway that I wasn’t exactly relaxed.  Picking up on my body language, Brandon once again sought to put me at ease. 

“I’m a good guy, I promise,” he reassured me as we pulled out of the diner parking lot.

“I’m not too worried about that,” I replied.

He must have found that answer strange, because he took his eyes off the road for a moment so he could look at me once again in the shadows.  “No?” 

“Nope,” I replied.

For some reason I found myself wanting to confide in Brandon. 

Maybe it was because I had been so isolated for so long that it felt good to finally open up to someone, to have some small, fleeting connection.  Or maybe it was because Brandon’s eyes were kind, there was no judgment in his voice and he was a perfect stranger.  After tonight – or possibly tomorrow – I would never see him again. 

I took some comfort in that knowledge.

So I opened up.

“When I was fifteen my mom married her third husband, Earl.  He made my skin crawl.  I’d always catch him looking at me, just...watching, waiting.  So I started sleeping with a knife under my pillow, just because I had a bad feeling.”

“Whoa...”

“It was only a small little knife,” I said, as though that made the whole thing less messed up.  “It wasn’t really capable of causing a whole lot of damage, come to think of it.  But it made me feel safer, like I might have a fighting chance should something happen.  No pun intended.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, as it turned out, my instincts were pretty much on the mark.  It took a while for him to try anything because he was a pathetic coward.  But then he worked up his nerve and proved my instincts right.  The first time Earl snuck into my bedroom late at night after my mom had passed out was also the last.”

Brandon was quiet for a moment.  Then, somberly, he said, “I’m really sorry that happened.”

“Not as sorry as Earl was,” I replied, shrugging as though it was no big deal.  “I woke up to find him standing over me and he was – well, you know.  I grabbed the knife and cut him – his hands, his arms, even his face.  I told him if I ever saw
it
again, I’d cut it off.  I think he must have believed me, because he never tried to mess with me again.”

“What did your mom say?” Brandon asked me, the concern in his voice undeniable.

“Nothing,” I replied.  “She was never exactly the world’s greatest mother.  She’s completely narcissistic and self-involved.  Plus she’s been addicted to prescription pills for more than two decades.  She slept through the whole thing.  In the morning Earl told her the cat had scratched him.  She didn’t question it.”

“You didn’t tell her what really went on?”

“There wouldn’t have been any point.  Who would she have believed – me or the guy who paid for her nasty little habit?” I asked bitterly.  “The answer, in case you’re wondering, is Earl.”

“Wow.”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” I said apologetically, suddenly realizing how strange it was for me to be unloading such personal, private information on a guy I’d barely known for half an hour.  “I guess I want you to know I’m not some shrinking violet, even if that was how it looked back at the diner with Carl.”

“That’s not what I was thinking at all,” Brandon assured me.  “All I was thinking back at the diner was that your boss is a huge asshole.  Are you really dating him?”  The incredulity in his voice was undeniable. 

“I met him shortly after I turned seventeen,” I explained.  “He gave me a job and he let me move in with him.  I can’t tell you how good it felt to not have to constantly look over my shoulder...to go to bed at night and know that Earl wasn’t lurking in the shadows.  It was like for the first time in way too long, I could finally breathe.”

Brandon said nothing, but I could tell he was listening intently to every word.  So I continued.

“Carl saved me.  He took care of me when there was no one else.  I was completely alone in the world before him, I mean, aside from a few casual acquaintances from high school and stuff.  And he wasn’t so angry in the beginning.  He’s...he’s changed.  He’s gotten, well...meaner.  I don’t know why, but he’s changed.”

“Or maybe he’s started to show his true colors,” Brandon pointed out.

“Maybe,” I agreed.  “But I’ll never be able to repay him for what he did for me.”

“I get that.  I do.  But it doesn’t mean you have to stay with him.  And if he doesn’t treat you right then he doesn’t deserve another minute of your time,” Brandon told me, his voice free from judgment.  “Nobody owns you, no matter how much they do for you.”

“You sound like my friend Angie.”

“Your friend Angie sounds like a smart woman.”  Brandon observed with a grin.  “But seriously, if your boss was truly a good guy, he would help you without expecting anything in return.  And he sure as hell wouldn’t talk to you the way I heard him speaking to you tonight.  There’s no excuse for that, Hayley.”

What was I supposed to say in response to that?  I wasn’t sure I could say anything.  A lump had inexplicably formed in my throat.  So instead I kept quiet and craned my neck, pretending to be very interested in the landscape as we exited the city and drove into the night.

To his credit, Brandon immediately got the hint and changed the subject.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked.  “If you feel like a snack, you’re in luck because I’ve got a ton of them.  Help yourself to anything you like,” he offered, pointing to a bag bearing a convenience store logo that was lying near my feet.

Reaching down, I picked up the plastic bag and opened it up.  Then my eyes widened.  It was stuffed to the brim with junk food.  “This is more candy than most kids get after a whole night of trick or treating,” I marvelled. 

“Yeah well, I got carried away.  It’s kind of my guilty little pleasure,” Brandon confessed, sounding sheepish.  “Whenever I get some downtime I like to rent a car, hit the road and just drive.  And these days I always stock up on junk food for my drive,” he added with a chuckle.  “It beats chain smoking.  Go on, take whatever you want.”

“No thanks, I’m not hungry” I fibbed as I mentally calculated the calories in a single chocolate bar.  Then I looked at Brandon curiously, unable to help but notice the way the headlights of oncoming vehicles illuminated his strong, masculine jaw line.  God, he was handsome.

“Do you want something out of here?” I asked, nodding to the bag.

“Nah, I’d better not,” he replied.  “I’m still stuffed from the burger I had back at the diner.”

“Oh, okay.”  I dropped the bag as though it was going to burn me, anxious to get the temptation as far away from me as possible.  Then, remembering what Brandon had said about hitting the open road when he had downtime, I asked, “Do you travel for work a lot?”

“It depends on what else is going on, but yeah.  I’m usually on the road for a good chunk of the year.” he replied.  “I haven’t slept in my own bed in over three months.  Actually,” he corrected himself after pausing to do the mental calculation, “I think it’s closer to four months.”

“Wow!  What do you do for work?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Brandon hesitated.  “I never know how to answer when people ask me that.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know, to be honest.  I guess I’m not used to it yet or something.  It sounds so incredibly dumb when I say it, like I’m a delusional little kid who wants to be a dragon when he grows up.”

“So you’re...a dragon?” I pressed, a tiny smile playing over my lips in spite of what had happened back at the diner.  Talking to Brandon was actually having a calming effect on me, and I found myself beginning to relax ever so slightly.

“Ha, no – I wish,” he laughed.  “I play in a band.”

“Oh!  So you’re...on tour?” I guessed, putting two and two together.

“Yep, I’m on tour.  I’ve got today and tomorrow off and after that, I move onto the next city.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“I guess.  I mean, I don’t want to sound like an ungrateful jerk but living a nomadic lifestyle can be sort of taxing after a while.  And sometimes there’s a lot of drama, which is irritating.  But I do realize how lucky I am to get to do this for a living,” Brandon added quickly.  “So I guess you’re right.  It is pretty cool.”

He wasn’t only in a band, but he got to play music for a living?  That sounded rather impressive.  I had always assumed most people in bands played at dive bars for exposure and, if they were really good, maybe enough pay to buy a round of drinks afterward.  But this sounded different.

“What kind of music does your band play?” I asked curiously.

“Some hard rock,” he replied.  “But mostly metal.”

“Oh.”  After a moment’s pause, I admitted, “I don’t really know anything about...that.”

He laughed, clearly not the least bit offended by my confession.  “That’s okay.  Actually, I’m glad.  It’s nice to be Brandon the regular guy instead of Brandon who stands onstage screaming into a microphone night after night.  So thank you.”

As we kept driving, we fell into a comfortable silence.  I snuck peeks at Brandon out of the corner of my eye every so often.  With his dark hair and tall stature he was really handsome, but that wasn’t even what had captured my attention. 

He had a quiet discontent about him, as though he was suffering in silence.  I got the sense he was a guy who stayed in the background whenever possible, and that he didn’t miss much.  When I talked, he listened – I mean really listened.  Even though he was a stranger, he made me feel as though he cared.

He didn’t dismiss my opinions or act as though I was boring him.  In fact, he did the opposite, asking me questions and encouraging me to speak my mind.  I wasn’t used to a guy actually wanting to talk to me, actually wanting to know what I thought and how I felt.  It was nice. 

It was, actually, more than nice.

Chapter 03

True to his word, Brandon got me a hotel room of my own.  My intuition had proved right – he wasn’t an opportunistic guy looking to take advantage of someone he had found in a vulnerable position.  He simply wanted to help.  And though it felt unnatural to me, I let him.  What other choice did I have?

That night I slept like the dead.  In fact, I didn’t wake up until there was a light rap on my door.  By then, sunlight was streaming in from behind the curtains.  A quick glance at the clock told me I had slept late – far later than I was used to.  I had needed it.  I hadn’t even realized how utterly exhausted I was.

Jumping out of bed, I quickly tried to pat my hair back into place and straightened my rumpled clothing.  Then I opened the door to find Brandon standing there.  He was clad in a dark t-shirt, black jeans and the same ball cap as yesterday.  He was holding a box of donuts and two large coffees.  And he was somehow even more handsome than I recalled.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked apologetically.  “I thought you might be hungry and I was told the donut shop across the street is amazing.  I hope you like coffee?”

“I love coffee,” I managed to reply, stepping aside to let him in.  Then I tugged self-consciously at my hair, wondering if I looked completely disheveled after spending the night sleeping in yesterday’s clothes.  “I’m probably a mess,” I told him sheepishly.

“You look great,” he assured me, handing me a coffee.  “What kind of donuts do you like?  I got a variety pack because I wasn’t sure.  I’m a Boston cream sort of guy, personally,” he said as he opened the box to reveal an assortment of delicious looking donuts.

“Thanks, but I’m fine with coffee,” I told him, even though my stomach was growling.  The donuts looked delicious but I was so afraid of giving into temptation.  Would one little slip up set me off and make me gain back all the weight I’d lost?  I couldn’t risk it.

“Oh, you don’t eat donuts?” Brandon asked, his face falling.  “I guess I just assumed everyone eats donuts.  That was stupid of me, sorry.  Let’s go out for breakfast.”

“We don’t have to do that,” I protested, not used to having someone making a fuss over me.

“Sure we do,” Brandon insisted, flashing me a grin that could probably convince any hot blooded straight woman to walk to the ends of the earth for him.  “Haven’t you ever heard that breakfast is the most important meal of the day?”