Seductive Chaos (Bad Rep #3) (14 page)

Maysie rolled her eyes.

“He’d understand. I need to figure out what I’m going to do with my life outside of being his fiancé. I can’t follow him around on the road forever. Or however long this ride lasts. It seemed so romantic when I threw everything in to go with the guys on tour. But here we are over a year later and even though there have been breaks and times when we’re not doing the band thing, it’s taken over every facet of my life. I can’t even plan my wedding because of all the craziness going on. I don’t resent it, but I’m getting tired of it.”

I couldn’t have been more shocked then if she had told me she had decided to start a one-woman circus act involving chickens and flame-throwers.

“Wow, Mays. . .just. . .wow,” was all I could say.

“So, do you have space for another roomie?” Maysie asked sadly, giving us a half-hearted smile.

“Of course we do,” Gracie said as I opened my mouth to say, “Not really.”

But that would have been a shitty thing to say. Not to mention completely unsupportive. But I was just thinking of all the extra mess and estrogen fueled drama.

My drama was enough for our two-bedroom apartment.

“Thanks guys. It probably won’t be for a few weeks. I have to talk to Jordan about it first. I know it’s the right thing for me. I know he’s struggling with everything with the band and making me happy at the same time. I just want him to be able to focus on himself for a little while. He’ll understand, right?” she asked. Why the hell was she asking us?

But I knew she just needed the reassurance. I patted her back in an affectionate gesture. “Of course he will, Mays. Jordan loves you. You guys are solid.”

Maysie gave me a shaky smile that reminded me so much of the insecure girl I had known during our Chi Delta days. I hated seeing her like this. Unsure and unhappy.

While it was great that the guys were finally getting the recognition that we all felt they deserved, it seemed to be coming at a hefty price.

For everyone.

Maysie’s less than exuberant mood put a damper on what I had hoped to be a great weekend.

What a downer. And I was looking so cute too! I fluffed my hair and tried to resurrect our dwindling good time.

“Let’s tailgate, ladies!” I announced, slapping some cash down on the table and jumping to my feet. I wiggled my hips in time to the music blasting from the jukebox in the corner and grinned a siren smile, as I became the immediate center of attention.

“But we don’t have a tailgate,” Maysie pointed out. I shrugged.

“Then let’s go borrow one!”

T
here was to be no tailgating during our evening festivities, much to my disappointment.

By the time the three of arrived at the Pour House Music Hall, where Primal Terror and our boys were playing, it was already packed. The Rejects weren’t due to hit the stage for another hour, but people were already lined up around the block.

Pour House Music Hall was a lot smaller then some of the venues where the bands had been performing over the last few months, but Primal Terror had insisted on several “smaller” gigs. They had risen up through the more intimate clubs and bars and apparently wanted to get back to their roots.

“We don’t have to wait in line, do we? Because I’ll start flashing boob to get to the front if I have to,” I complained. Though I meant it. I wasn’t above using some flesh just so I didn’t have to wait around.

“Of course not, we’re going straight in,” Maysie said and I was relieved to see that the doom and gloom had disappeared. It was hard to be pissy when you were going to see your man play to an adoring crowd. There was no greater aphrodisiac out there.

Unless your guy was an attention-seeking slut bag.

As soon as we entered the darkly lit bar, I caught sight of the guys setting up their gear on the small stage. All of them, but Cole that is. He was too busy sitting on the edge of the stage, his legs hanging off the side with some girl stood between his knees.

He was leaning back on his hands. So there was no groping or kissing going on. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to run over there and rip skankarilla’s hair out.

My rage ignited instantly.

Damn, it was going to be a long night.

I couldn’t help but notice the crusty looks the other guys tossed their lead singer’s way. And how he purposefully kept his back to them.

It was sad to see an end to their easy camaraderie. I really hoped this was only a phase and they’d get back to normal soon. Because no band could withstand the obvious resentment and bitterness that swirled around between them.

I turned my attention back to my erstwhile fellow and noticed that the girl now had her hands on his knees.

I felt my fingers curling into a fist.

Gracie grabbed my arm and gave it a tight squeeze, her nails digging into my skin painfully. “Don’t, Viv. Just don’t,” she warned.

I yanked my arm away and resolutely turned my back on Cole and his bimbo of the moment. I pushed my way through the crowd and slammed my hand down on the bar. The two guys on either side of me looked down and gave me identical leering smiles.

“Let me buy you a drink, baby.” I turned my most seductive smirk on a guy with a bright red Mohawk and a tattoo running along one side of his face.

“I’ve never been one to turn down free alcohol.” I looked up at him through my eyelashes, laying it on as thick as possible. I had no interest in Mohawked and Scary but free booze was the way to this girl’s heart.

“I’ll be buying your drinks tonight,” a hard voice said from behind me. I let out a sigh but didn’t turn around. I put my hand on Mohawk’s arm.

“I want my drinks from
you
though,” I simpered.

“God damn it, Vivian! Don’t start this shit already! You just got here!” Cole yelled over the dull roar of the crowd.

Mohawk looked from me to Cole and held his hands up. “I’m not lookin’ to get in the middle of a domestic,” he stated, backing away.

I turned around and gave Cole the look of death, hoping it would put him ten feet under.

“Were you planning to fuck that guy?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of retreating Mohawk. He was angry. His eyes flashed in the dull light.

I leaned my elbows on the bar and pushed my chest out. Cole’s gaze slid from my face to the part of my body he could never resist. And so did several other men around us. I shook my hair out behind me and gave him a bored look.

“No, I didn’t plan on fucking him.” I affected a yawn as though I were already tired of the conversation. I made eyes at the preppy guy stood on the other side of Cole. I licked my lips slowly and almost laughed at his eager expression.

Cole looked over his shoulder at preppy and snarled. “Get the hell out of here. She’s off limits, dude!” Poor preppy scurried off so fast it was as though his butt were on fire.

I stood up straight and took a menacing step toward the object of my unbridled lust. “Holy double standards, Cole! Where’s the little blonde?” I asked looking pointedly around the teeming group of people.

Cole scrunched up his face in confusion. “Who?”

I laughed humorlessly. “The bitch that was showing you her boob job when I came in,” I spat out.

Cole frowned, as though trying to figure out what I was talking about. And then he started laughing. The urge to kick him between the legs was overwhelming.

Then the asshole pinched the tip of my nose and rustled my hair like a damn dog. “Is Vivvie jealous?” he cooed and this time I lost it.

I picked up the closest beer bottle and dumped the contents on his shoes.

Cole leapt backwards, howling in outrage. “What the fuck, Vivian?” he screamed. The noise in the bar became noticeably quieter.

I pressed myself up against Cole, my face an inch from his. My heart was thumping wildly, my blood was buzzing with fury.

“I am sick of your bullshit, Cole. You better walk the line tonight or you’ll be sorry. Do I make myself clear? I didn’t come all this way to be humiliated by you. If you want me here, then act like it,” I hissed.

Cole’s eyes snapped and sizzled, his chest heaving up and down. He was flushed and just as furious as I was.

Then he grabbed the back of my head, his fingers curling into my hair and smashed his mouth down on mine.

The kiss was bruising and forceful. This wasn’t about romance. This was about domination. I bit down on his bottom lip and could taste his blood.

He pulled away, his lips swollen and bleeding. “I’m happy you’re here. Is that what you want me to say? Is that what you want to hear?” He grabbed my upper arms and pushed me back against the wall, his pelvis thrusting against mine.

“Does that make you happy?” he demanded.

I couldn’t take my eyes away from him. He was gorgeous. And he made me feel completely and totally alive. I craved this manic insanity that I only seemed to experience when I was with him.

Why couldn’t I be content with nice and normal? Why did I crawl over broken glass for this madness?

Why did I allow Cole to degrade me and humiliate me over and over again? Why did I scream at him and make a scene just so I could get this reaction from him?

What the hell was wrong with me?

What the hell was wrong with
us?

I was so turned on I could barely stand. I wanted him to take me then and there. I didn’t give a crap about the people openly gawking at us. I thrived on it.

I wanted the hard press of his body against mine. I wanted the chaos.

“Yes! It makes me happy,” I bit out, giving him that tiny victory.

“Good,” he said, leaning in and kissing me tenderly on the nose. His thumbs caressed the side of my face. A remarkably gentle act from such a volatile man.

“Stand in front. I want to see you when I sing,” Cole murmured, leaning in to kiss me on the mouth. And this one wasn’t hateful or angry. It was soft and almost loving. And it shook me to my core.

Then he was gone and I stood there, my back against the wall, trying to catch my breath, not sure what the hell had just happened.

Maysie stood off to the side, her arms crossed, shaking her head. I straightened my spine and walked back to the bar, ordering myself a Lemon Drop and tossed it back. Then I ordered another. And another.

If I were going to make it through the night I’d need help. And my good friend, vodka, would do the trick.

“You always put on a good show, I’ll give you that,” Gracie said dryly, sitting beside me at the bar, watching the people around us. It was hard to ignore the increasing number of girls who were coming into the venue. All decked out in their best metal slut gear. Most of them hoping a flash of skin would get them a night with one of the guys on stage.

I watched as a group of girls tried to make conversation with Garrett and Jordan. Both were polite but obviously uninterested. Maysie was in a corner talking to some people I recognized as the roadie crew. She didn’t seem remotely bothered by the women chatting up her fiancé. And I knew Riley wouldn’t care if she were here either.

Because they didn’t have anything to worry about. Jordan and Garrett were loyal to the women they loved.

The girls finally got the hint and turned their attentions from Garrett and Jordan to Mitch and Cole. When Mitch was too absorbed in tuning his bass to give them what they were looking for, their entire focus honed in on the man I had come to see.

The man who would never truly been mine.

And he smiled and flirted and laughed when they rubbed his arm. He gave them exactly what they wanted. He teased and seduced with only a look and a grin. The girls ate it up. And he loved it. I could see it from here.

My chest started to ache and an unfamiliar thickness squeezed my throat.

“Come on Viv, they’re about to start,” Gracie said, tugging on my arm. I was being uncharacteristically maudlin. I felt like hanging in the back and sulking. But instead I tossed my hair around my shoulders and straightened my shirt to hang low over my breasts. I ran my finger around the edge of my lips, getting rid of any smudges.

Then we pushed and shoved our way to the front where I knew Cole could see me.

Their music started low and languid. Cole’s deep, throaty growl into the mic echoed around the room. The crowd went instantly quiet, the light of a hundred cellphones lighting up.

I knew they were going to be amazing as always, though I couldn’t help but pick up on a very significant difference. It wasn’t anything anyone in the crowd would notice. It was only something close to those on stage would be aware of.

Cole stood out front, his hands clasped around the mic, his eyes closed. Garrett and Mitch stood behind him, their faces turned down to their instruments. Jordan sat at his drums, his mouth set in a firm line as he beat in time to the strains of the music.

They looked like a rock band.

But they each looked miserable. They were musicians that fed off each other. They were always looking and communicating with one another before, during and after every show.

Tonight it was like watching four separate individuals up there rather than one cohesive unit.

There was a major rift going on. And for the first time I truly worried for the fate of my favorite band. Because this didn’t seem like something they’d easily fix.