Heavy Metal (A Badboy Rockstar Romance) (8 page)

“Yes.  Carl hates Mittens almost as much as Mittens hates him, but they despise each other from a distance.  They’ve been engaged in a silent war for years now.  Carl will set out cat food and then the two of them will avoid each other like the plague.  And Mittens will probably pee on Carl’s side of the bed at the first possible opportunity just to spite him,” I predicted.

“Oh?” Brandon looked amused.  “That’s pretty awesome, I must say.  In fact, I think I love that cat of yours already.  I’d do the same thing if I could, for what it’s worth.”

“Pee on Carl’s side of the bed?”

“Yep, and on everything else he owns, too.”

I burst out laughing at the visual.  “That’s disgusting.”

Brandon grinned and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.  “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“I thought you were trying to quit?”

“Oh yeah, right...” He looked at the pack of cigarettes thoughtfully and then tossed them aside.  “Okay, never mind.  But you’re going to have to distract me so I stop thinking about how badly I’m craving a smoke,” Brandon informed me. 

“Alright, how do I do that?”

“Let’s play a game.”

“What game?”

“How about truth or dare?” he suggested.

“I haven’t played that since I was about twelve,” I laughed.  “But okay.  Let’s do it.”

“Truth or dare?” he asked.

“Dare.”

“Oh!  I thought for sure you were going to pick truth!” Brandon exclaimed.  “I’m impressed.  Hmm, now let’s see...”  He cocked his head to the side and thought for a moment.  Then his eyes lit up.  “I dare you to roll down the window and car dance the next time we’re stopped beside another vehicle at a red light.”

“What on earth is car dancing?”

“This,” Brandon said, and then immediately broke into the most absurd and dorky dance – if you could call it a dance – that I had ever seen.  “You dance while you’re sitting in a car.  See?”

Immediately, I burst into laughter.  “If only your adoring fans could see you now,” I teased.  There was absolutely nothing sexy about what Brandon was doing – and yet in some odd way, I found that completely endearing and, well,
sexy
.  

“Oh!  Oh!  We’re coming up to a red light now, this is your chance!” he told me.

I rolled down the window and prepared to embarrass myself.  “Do I at least get music?”

“Nope,” he grinned.  “You have to car dance to imaginary music to make it extra crazy.”

I snorted.  “You’re evil.”

“You can get your revenge when it’s your turn to give me a dare,” Brandon reminded me.

“Oh, I will,” I assured him.  “Make no mistake about that.”

“Less talk, more car dance,” he urged as the vehicle came to a stop.

With a sigh, I looked out the window and caught the eye of the driver in the car beside us.  Then I began to shimmy and shake right there in the backseat of the SUV, snapping my fingers and bopping my head to music only I could hear. 

The guy in the next car gawked for a moment and then a broad grin broke out across his face.  The next thing I knew, he had joined in, doing a car dance of his very own.  We both laughed and, when the light turned green, I waved before rolling the window back up.

“How’d I do?” I asked, turning to face Brandon.

He was staring at me a though seeing me for the very first time, or perhaps just in a new light.  “You were perfect.  You’re
are
perfect,” he told me.

My face reddened until I was pretty sure it matched the color of my hair.  “I’m not,” I mumbled.

The truth was I never would have danced before, when I had been overweight and ashamed of my body after years of Carl’s bullying.  There were a lot of things I hadn’t allowed myself to do, feeling as though I somehow didn’t deserve to take part in the normal little things most people took for granted.

But my weight loss wasn’t the reason I’d been able to seize the moment and wilfully make a fool of myself in spite of the crippling self-consciousness I had lived with for years.  No, Brandon was to thank for that.  He made me want to act impulsive, be silly and have fun.  And he made me feel safe enough to do it. 

It was a liberating feeling.

“It’s time to make good on your threat,” Brandon told me.  “And just for you, I choose dare.”

“Hmm okay,” I said, gnawing on my lower lip ever so slightly as I tried to come up with a suitable dare.  Then, when I came up with one, I started to snicker.  I couldn’t really ask him to do that...could I?

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“Have you ever flashed someone before?” I asked.

“I chose dare, not truth,” he replied coyly.  “Why, have you?”

“You’re out of turn!” I shot back, fighting fire with fire.  “You don’t get to ask questions!”

“Well neither do you!”

“Well fine!  I dare you to moon someone.”

“Okay,” he agreed without argument, unfastening his seatbelt. 

I wished I could be half as comfortable in my skin as he was in his.

Brandon turned away and began to fumble with his belt buckle.  Suddenly I didn’t know where to look, so I stared hard out the window.  I heard him unzip his jeans and thought nothing of the fact that he had his back to me.  I fully expected him to reposition himself so he could roll down the limo window and display his butt to some unlucky – or lucky – person on the street.

Except that wasn’t what he did.

The next thing I knew, I was staring at Brandon’s bare ass as he shook it in my face.

“What are you doing?!” I shrieked as his shoulders started to heave, unable to contain himself.

“You told me to flash someone!” he reminded me as he pulled up his jeans and sat back down, barely able to get the words out as he shook with laughter.  Steve and our driver had finally taken note of our game and they were roaring as they began to piece together what was going on.

“I meant someone outside!”

“Then you should have been more specific,” he winked, still guffawing at the way he had managed to beat me at my own game.  He looked quite proud of himself, as though he had accomplished something truly great.  For some reason I found that hilarious in and of itself.

“What is it about this game that makes grown adults act like misbehaving preteens?” I asked once I could speak again, still clutching my belly as tears streamed down my face.

“I don’t know but that’s why I like it,” Brandon replied merrily.  “If you ask me, being a grownup is overrated sometimes.  So I guess I’m lucky I get to be in a band and travel the world playing music rather than hold down a real job.”

“I’d say so.”  Then I looked at him, trying to read between the lines.  “You don’t sound all that thrilled about it,” I observed, staring at him expectantly as I waited for him to tell me what was on his mind. 

“Truth or dare?” he asked, changing the subject.

“You’re not going to dare me to flash someone, are you?” I asked nervously.

“Only one way to find out,” Brandon teased.

“Well in that case I’m going to go with truth,” I said, unwilling to take a chance.

“Rate my ass on a scale of 1-10,” Brandon demanded, barely able to keep a straight face.

“You’re such a dork!” I laughed, making a rude face at him.  He made one right back.

Thankfully, we happened to roll up to the hotel right at that moment.  The timing couldn’t have been better as it saved me from having to answer Brandon’s question and potentially embarrassing myself to no end.

But for the record, his butt was a definite ten out of ten.  Maybe it was even an eleven.

Chapter 07

“How did your phone call go?” Brandon asked me later that evening. 

He had come to my hotel room to let me know it was time to go, and then had ushered me out to a non-descript car with tinted windows where a driver was already waiting.  Apparently the other guys in the band were going to head over to the stadium separately.

“I haven’t called Carl yet,” I admitted sheepishly.  “After the way he yelled at me the last time I called, I’m kind of dreading talking to him again.  I don’t know what to say.  And what if he won’t cooperate?  He might, you know.  I’m sure he’d mad as hell.”

“Do you want me to deal with him?” Brandon asked, taking my concerns seriously.  “You don’t have to talk to him ever again if you don’t want to, Hayley.  Let me take care of it.”

“Thanks, but it’s something I have to do,” I said bravely.  Though the times I’d shared with Carl hadn’t exactly been good, we’d had a long relationship.  He deserved closure and, come to think of it, maybe I needed closure too.

“Whatever you want,” Brandon replied.  “Just remember you have options, alright?”

“Thanks.”

“So are you ready for your first concert ever?” he asked, smoothly changing the subject.  He flashed me an over-the-top, toothy grin to sarcastically let me know what
he
thought about the whole thing.  I couldn’t help but smile at his antics.

“Yeah, I am,” I told him.  “Are you nervous?”

“I’m always nervous.”

“You don’t look it.”

“I have a good poker face.”

Our driver had slowed down to a crawl.  We were still quite a distance away from the stadium, so I peered out the window to see what was going on.  The street was packed with vehicles, some of them decorated with the band’s name and pictures of the guys.  Girls lined the street chanting, their faces painted and their cameras ready. 

“They’re all here for you?” I asked in disbelief.

“For me and the other guys in the band, yeah.”  Brandon sounded embarrassed.

Suddenly a chorus of screams caught my attention.  There was arm flapping and squealing and even some crying.  Then nearly all of the girls took off running
away
from the stadium, a stampede of raging hormones and teenage lust.

“What’s going on?” I gasped, my faced pressed against the tinted window. 

“They’ve spotted the decoy limo,” Brandon explained, unfazed by the whole thing.  “It’s going to be circling the block for the next little while to keep the fans occupied and out of the way.  I wish we didn’t have to do it, but it makes it so much easier getting where we need to go.  Or at least it will until the fans catch on and we have to figure something else out.”

“There are a lot of logistics involved in getting you from Point A to Point B, huh?”

“You have no idea.  Thankfully only a small minority of our fans get carried away.”

“You call that a small minority?” I asked in amazement.  “There were so many of them out there that they practically shut down the whole street!”

“That won’t happen until later,” Brandon replied.  “Closer to the show, the surrounding streets
will
have to be shut down.  I’m sure the cops just love us and all the trouble we cause,” he said sarcastically.  “I wish there was some less disruptive way for us to tour, but there you have it.”

Just then the engine shut off.

“Oh, we’re here.”

The two of us climbed out of the backseat and were quickly ushered through a back door by a guy wearing a bright yellow t-shirt that had “Security” written on the front.  Several more security guards lined the long narrow hallway we were led down.  Brandon grabbed my hand as we walked, making it clear to everyone that I was with him and had permission to be there.

“So this is our dressing room,” he told me a minute later when we arrived at a large room where two of three other band members were already lounging around.  “Make yourself comfortable.”

Fascinated by the lifestyle that had become the new normal for Brandon, I stood there looking around.  The room was furnished with several couches, a big screen TV and even a pool table.  There was also an abundance of snacks spread out on a large counter.  

“Where are the girls?” Brandon called out to his bandmates.

“They went out front already,” the conspiracy theorist replied, engrossed in a video game.

“There’s a section just off the side of the stage that’s reserved especially for guests of the band,” Brandon explained to me.  “Would you like to go out there and join the other women?”

It was probably completely irrational of me, but the question sent up a red flag for me.  I didn’t want to be lumped in with the sexed up groupies who threw themselves at the band night after night.  Maybe deep down I was afraid that was how Brandon saw me: an irreplaceable woman with no ambition or drive of her own.

“Getting an authentic concert experience out on the floor might be nice,” I commented. 

Brandon’s eyebrows shot up.  “You want to be out front with everyone else?” he asked.

“Yes please.”

He hesitated.  “I’m not sure you fully understand what you’d be getting yourself into,” he cautioned me.  “Sometimes it can get rowdy out there – moshpits and crowdsurfing are pretty much a given at any show we play.  It can get violent...it doesn’t take much for things to get out of hand quickly.”