Rev (37 page)

“Hey, isn’t he your brother or something?” Jessica asked, her high voice piercing through the cloud of shock around me.

Oh yeah. Zayden Knight’s mother, Charlene, had married my Dad five years ago. Unfortunately, that made him my stepbrother. I say unfortunately because he’s the most annoying jerk on the planet.

“Not at all,” I answered. “He’s just the son of the woman my dad married. I hardly ever saw him anyway, since he was always on tour.”

“Well, you can
sure
seen him now!” Jessica exclaimed, giggling as she strained her neck to gawk at the picture in my hands.

She was right. The photo featured a completely nude Zayden Knight taunting the paparazzi from the patio of a trendy club. He wore socks and nothing else. Although his junk was blurred out, you could see the contour of the thing under the pixelated squares.

Holy Shit! It’s huge.

I had always assumed Zayden’s cocky arrogance stemmed from some physical insecurity. Seeing as he sported a perfect six-pack and chiseled features, I guessed it was something down below—the usual “he’s overcompensating.” Nope. Zayden didn’t act like an asshole because he was compensating for something. He was just an asshole.

“Oh my god!” Jessica shouted, pointing. “It’s like hanging to his knees!”

“Gross…Jess, stop,” I pleaded. “Believe me, if you knew him like I do—”

“I thought you said you never really saw him?” Jess interrupted.

“Well, yeah. I mean he’d come by. Charlene lives there after all.”

Jessica squealed. “That’s so cool.
Zayde Knight!
  Did you ever see him, like in person?”

“Uh, yes, Jess, I’ve seen him in person.”

“And, like, his abs! What does he look like in person?”

I tossed the tabloid into the wastebasket under my desk. “He looks like a spoiled, entitled brat with an overpriced haircut.”

And a body that’s just unfair.

I hadn’t seen Zayden in a while, and though he’d always been easy on the eyes, the tabloid picture was just something else.

How is it that this jerk gets everything—it all just comes so easy.

He’d apparently been hitting the gym, and it was nearly impossible to ignore the sharply cut muscles in his shoulders, arms, and abs.

“Well,” continued Jessica undeterred, “if you see him, make sure to snap a pic just for me.”

“That won’t happen,” I said flatly.

“What, why? Summer’s around the corner—I’m sure he’ll come by at
some
point.”

I grabbed a stack of folded blouses and lay them carefully in my suitcase. “Thankfully, Zayden’s on some international promotional tour all summer.”

“Hmmm…” Jessica pouted. “Just stay in touch in case that changes. I can fly down to visit!”

Wouldn’t that be great?

I could just imagine her following in a long line of friends who’d been seduced by Zayden’s fame and religiously tanned torso. “Sure thing, Jess. I hope you visit.”

Jessica rose from the bed, gave me a quick hug and pounced on the wastebasket, retrieving the magazine. “And, I’ll just hang on to this,” she said with a wink. “See you soon!”

I shook my head as she left.

Unbelievable
.

Jessica had just missed valedictorian of our class at Canterbury Preparatory—and that was only because she’d taken the science AP classes all at once in her senior year. It didn’t matter how smart or driven a girl was. They always went head-over-heels for Zayden.

Head-over-heels for the guy that treated women like a red solo cup in a game of beer pong. He’d hook up with several girls in one night, throwing huge parties in his apartment and taking his pick—and that was back when he turned 18, right before Sound Play took off. The overnight success of the boy band took Zayden to new heights of both stardom and bastardom.

When I came home over the holidays or for summer and he’d stop by to grace us all with his presence, he and his posse would take over the house. They’d all but trash the place and every time I tried to kick his friends out, Charlene would remind me that nothing was off limits to her precious Zayden. “He’s very important,” she’d inform me, “he needs to blow off some steam.”

Oh, he definitely did that. When he and his posse were done littering the pool with solo cups and cigarettes, they’d jump into one of Zayden’s absurdly expensive cars and zip off at 20 miles over the speed limit to West Hollywood or some glitzy club in Beverly Hills. Then they’d all push right through the line, making a show of it, and waltz in still wearing their sunglasses.

I know, because I went with them once, two years ago. Zayden had made a show of wanting to take his friends and me all out to celebrate my 17
th
birthday. He was 20 and even more full of himself after two years of success with Sound Play. He said it’d be someplace classy and low-key. So I got all dressed up. I had on my sensible light beige skirt and light blue shirt that I tucked into the waist and brought along my knit peplum jacket from J. Crew. I remember because he made fun of me the whole time: “Check it out, guys”… “You really know how to stand out, Maddy”… “Modest is Hottest, I guess that’s why you don’t have a boyfriend, haha”… and on and on.

Finally, he pulled his Escalade with the illegally tinted windows up to the back of the building and we were all let in through a side entrance. It was only once we were inside and Zayden snapped a picture of me against the backdrop of a pole dancing stage that I knew it was all another elaborate joke for his amusement. “Hahaha...look at the expression on her face,” he’d said. “Oh, woops, you know, I think I sent that to Duncan.” He threatened to send the photo to my father unless I stayed.

It was a gross place with gross people. Guess that’s why Zayden had such a great time. He and his posse stuffed money into each and every G-string while getting hammered. If anyone tried to card him, he’d just lash out: “Do you know who I am?”

Meanwhile, all these slimy guys were grabbing my ass and whispering in my ear with beer breath that smelled like pee. And what did Zayden do? “She loves this…good luck guys, have at it,” he said, laughing his ass off. I couldn’t stand it. “Fuck you, Zayden,” I said. “You do what you want, I’m leaving.” And all he did was look at me perplexed, like he didn’t get why I was angry and he said “Jeez…Maddy, alright, just kidding, alright?”

I had to call a car service. There weren’t any cabs and this was before Uber. It sucked. My nude heels stuck to the disgusting floor as I rushed out of the place. When I got home I collapsed on the couch.  After that, I knew better than to hang out with Zayden.

Not like I could have. Later that year, he left Sound Play to go off on his own. And, as usual, he was wildly successful. He’d been a solo artist, touring the world, ever since. And it would be an understatement to say it went to his head. He was an insensitive, ignorant, cocky, inconsiderate jackass.

As I shoved my camisoles and light sweaters into my suitcase, I gave thanks that Zayden was on his international promotion circuit. It was relief to know that I could go spend the summer between high school and Stanford at home with my dad and without Zayden’s repulsive presence. He was the worst kind of entitled asshole. Zayden was the definition of a douche.

Chapter 2

Zayde

“Zayde…your phone is like… ringing…”

Her voice annoyed me.

Why the fuck are you still here?

“Yeah, sure…” I rolled over and pressed my thumb to the screen to unlock my phone.

Mom… great…

I knew what it was about. My indecent exposure had probably gone viral by now.

Well, good for them
.

The way I saw it, they were getting a free show. That’s what they wanted, right? Chasing me down Sunset Boulevard: “Take your shirt off Zayde!” “Show us what you’re made of, Zayde!” Fuckers… Well, I sure showed them. Everything.

At least I silenced the morons who were questioning the size of my dick, like they had nothing better to do. They didn’t. But that bad boy was on full display now. Widely circulated and retweeted in those candid photographs.

Well, that’s good, at least.

This chick on the other hand, was bad…Bad in a good way and bad in a...yeah, just bad. Sure, she went to town on my dick like a hungry vacuum cleaner.

Does that even make sense? Damn, I’m not thinking straight…fucking hangover.

But, I’m pretty sure she thought there was something between us—something more than a night of pounding it out after the adrenaline rush of stripping down on the patio of that West Hollywood club. That would explain why she was still here when I explicitly asked her to take off last night. Nothing but bad news.

“Zayde…babe…your phone is ringing.”

Babe? What the hell was she thinking?

“Yeah, no shit. Do you not see me with the damn phone in my hand right now.” She was looking straight at me. “You’re telling me my phone is ringing like I don’t know and you’re looking at me? Are you kidding me?”

She looked mildly puzzled by my outburst and then it faded right back into boredom. “Well, fine then, I’m going to sleep.” Her eyes sunk and she turned back, stomach down on the bed, her face buried in the pillow.

I smiled a bit at the sight of her perky ass just hanging in the air. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Now I remember why I brought her home with me. Except…

No freaking way.

Already, she was wearing my shirt. Nothing else, just my shirt—my damn shirt. Bad news, like I said. She had to go, in spite of that beautiful ass. But first I had to take this call.

I got up with great difficulty, seeing as I’d had about two bottles of vodka, which might also explain the indecent exposure earlier. Bleary-eyed, I swiped at my phone, taking three attempts to connect with the green phone icon. I finally got it. “One second mom…”

I could hear my mom’s hurried voice spilling out of the speakers.

Damn, I’m gonna get it this time…

I dragged my ass over to the kitchen and grabbed a Vitamin Water, the XXX one.

Yeah, that about describes last night.

I plopped an Alka-Seltzer in a glass of cold water. Worked every time.  Electrolytes, aspirin, and a little sodium bicarbonate to soak up the stomach acid.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m here…”

She was angry. “Zayden! Have you seen today’s issue of THE
STAR GAZER
?”

Oh boy. “Mom, you know I go by Zayde now, right? Every single time—”

“Zayde! Listen to me!”

My attempt at misdirection failed. “Yeah, okay…”

She continued, slowing down her voice for emphasis. “You REALLY messed up this time. We couldn’t keep the photo out of the media. It’s all over the place, internet, tabloids—”

“I know.”

“You know?! And you’re just sitting around like it doesn’t matter. Zayden, honey…look, I know it can be hard on you. All the traveling, the tour, everything. But you’re in the perfect position to take off. I mean, you left Sound Play, what, a little more than a year ago? Now you’re in the top ten grossing artists—I sent you the link to the article on Forbes…”

“Mom, you know I don’t care about all that stuff.”

“Well, you should. Listen, Zayden, honey, your demo doesn’t like this kind of stuff. Your median age is 16.2, and the parents of someone 16.2 years old aren’t going to fork over hundreds of dollars for their teen daughters to see—”

“Yeah, I get it mom. You sound a lot like my publicist, by the way.”

“Speaking of which, you’ll be getting a call from Rosalyn later today. We’re going to schedule something with Oprah, like a heart-to-heart.”

Fuck.
“Yeah, that’s great mom.”

“Listen to me Zayden. You’re going to talk about the pressures of having broken up with the band last year, how the international tour schedule is grueling and disorienting. How you’re postponing the rest of the tour and coming home to live with your family for a while—”

“WHAT?!”

She has to be kidding.

“Mom, no freaking way!”

Just what I need: my controlling mother peering over my shoulder. Right when I’m in the zone, getting the best pussy of my life.

Her voice softened. “Zayden… You need to do this. You’re not the only one this affects. As your mother, it’s hard on me, to see you go down that road. I never thought…” Her voice caught and she sniffled audibly. “Back when we were living in that shitty apartment in the valley, and I was trying to get a job—you couldn’t believe the people I had to deal with, what kind of stuff they were trying to drag me into—I knew, even back then that you’d be great Zayden. You were destined for it. But I never thought you’d come so far so fast. I just want my son back. Come home, stay a little while, and this will all pass. Do it for me Zayden…”

Oh shit…the trump card.

My mom loved pulling that one out, the whole single mother sacrifice. In truth, my dad took off after I was born, and she dragged me from North Dakota to Vegas and finally to L.A., trying to pursue her modeling career. Apparently she was too short or something. In any case, I ended up landing some dumb kids show and, as they say, one thing led to another. She became my manager/publicist/business strategist—and come to think of it, I always saw her that way, more than I saw her as my mother.