So I Married a Rockstar (14 page)

The bright light of the day sears my retinas when I crack the door open and I slap my hands over my eyes. The pain! I moan loudly and stumble out into the living area. Between my fingers, I can make out that Savory and Frank are at the table, while Jake is stretched out on the couch, looking about as good as I feel.
 

"Good afternoon, sunshine!" Drax's cheerful greeting stabs at my ears with icepicks. I groan again and slump into the dinette. "Coffee?"
 

It's all I can do to nod. While he's pouring, I slowly peel my fingers from my eyes, allowing them to adjust. It kills but just the smell of fresh-brewed java makes me feel better. I pray he went out and got donuts. I would kill for a maple bar right now.

"Here you are, m'dear," he says as he sets the mug down in front of me and drops a kiss on my forehead. I blindly grope for it with my left hand while I shade my eyes with my right. When did the sun get so bright and why is it so damn sparkly?

Only after my first sip do I start to feel human again. My eyes squinch open far enough to see that they're all grinning at me. Yeah, yeah, I made a fool of myself, no need to rub it in. Of course, I don't feel human enough to speak so I just scowl and take another soul-enriching sip.

"So?" Drax says, sitting down across from me, still beaming at me like an ass. "How does it feel?"

"How do you think it feels?" I croak, setting my mug down even though my body and brain are screaming for more. "It feels like Zeus is inside my skull zapping my brain with bolts of lightning."

"Hellz yeah," Jake groans into a throw pillow he has mashed over his face.

Everyone else laughs.
 

"Not that. Trust me, I know how
that
feels." Drax peels my hand away from the cup and covers it with both of his. I feel a twist of sadness that this will all soon be over. I also feel completely confused. As usual.

"Then what are you talking about?"
 

"This."
 

He lifts my hand for some reason. I still have no idea what he's talking about. Then I see it.
 

Light twinkles all over the ceiling as the sun catches the facets of the biggest diamond ring I've ever seen in real life. And it's on my hand. My left hand. The third finger of my left hand, to be precise. Still, I don't understand.
 

"What's that?" My voice is scratchy and weak. My hand starts trembling. Is that what I think it is? It can't be, right?

"Lola, that's your wedding ring. Don't you remember? We got married last night."

"Lola-
mami
, lemme help."
 

Papi fastens a long, flowing veil to my perfectly coiffed hair with a comb. I feel like a princess waiting to get a glimpse of her prince at the altar. Papi steps back for a better look, gasps and slaps his hands over his mouth. I'm so excited that I almost cry with him but I don't want to mess up my make-up.

"
Mira
," he says, turning me toward a full-length mirror so I can see for myself the splendor that is me in a wedding gown. I can't hold back any longer, make-up be damned.

I'm beautiful, radiant, absolutely glowing. I'm also seven years old and dressed in a wedding gown that was meant for one of those creepy life-size girl dolls. Doesn't matter; it's perfect.

Since then, I've always had a very specific vision for what my wedding would look like. A church full of loving family and friends all dressed to the nines, classical music played on a harp, me poured into a stunning gown...

A drunken, quickie Vegas wedding officiated by a third-rate Elvis? Not so much.

The moment Drax told me we'd been married, everything came flooding back. Drinking far too much at the club, him teasing me about never getting my answer to the proposal he scribbled on his headshot, and me laughingly saying 'Hell yeah'. Next thing I remember, we were all standing -- swaying, really -- in front of a really bad Elvis impersonator with some kind of eastern European accent.
 

I recall laughing really, really hard during the whole thing. Elvis would break out into song at the weirdest moments during the ceremony and throw himself into classic Elvis poses. At the time, it was hilarious. This morning? Yeah, no.

I'm outside the bus, bent over at the waist, trying not to faint from the heat or puke from my hangover, when the door opens. Drax's boots stomp into my eyeline.

"What the hell was that all about?" he grouses.
 

Really? He's gonna go there? Indignance trumps nausea, apparently, because I'm up and in his face before I even realize it.
 

"Are you kidding me right now? You have absolutely no idea what I could be upset about? Really?" Sarcasm is not a flattering color on me but I wear it like a champ anyway.
 

Drax doesn't back down, though. He pushes right back into my face.
 

"Honestly, I have no clue. We're on our fuckin' honeymoon here, and you're acting like I pissed in your Wheaties! Aren't brides supposed to be, oh I dunno, happy or something?"

"Most brides are aware that they actually got married!"

Drax shrugs and takes a step back. Does he have the grace to look sheepish? Heck no. He looks more smug than ever, which doesn't seem possible.
 

"Hey, you seemed pretty lucid when you suggested it."

Heat infuses my cheeks at his blatant lie. "Bullshit! I remember what happened now, so don't play games. You were bugging me to answer to your 'proposal'--" insert an eyeroll and air quotes "--and I
jokingly
said yes. Then you led me out of the club and, the next thing I know, I'm standing in a chapel singing 'Love Me Tender' with the worst Elvis I've ever seen."

"That's true, but you're forgetting the middle part. The part where you dragged me into that chapel in the first place."

My blood turns cold. Did I really? Nooooooo...it can't be. I think so hard my brain hurts -- even worse than it already does -- and it comes back to me. Nausea sweeps over me again and I nearly lose it.

"You were so cute in your tight little corset, I couldn't say no. 'Please, Drax. It'll be so fun, Drax.' What was I supposed to do?"
 

"What...? You could have refused! You could have said, 'No, we're too drunk to make such a major, life-changing decision.' I mean, you couldn't have really believed I'd marry you if I was in my right mind, could you? We aren't exactly compatible, first of all. Second of all, we've only known each other a couple days!"

His face grows dark, like a cloud is passing overhead. Only, this is Vegas. They don't know the meaning of the word 'cloud' here.

"So what are you saying, Lauren?" His lips press into a thin, hard line and a muscle twitches in his jaw.

I take a deep shuddering breath, tug the ginormous ring off my finger and hand it back to him. "It's obvious, isn't it? I want an annulment."

The ride home to San Francisco isn't nearly as enjoyable as the ride to Vegas was, what with all the lovin'. The tension in the tour bus is thicker than Pepper's famous clam chowder. Drax is sitting up with the driver, looking pissed as hell, and I'm trying to keep a low profile in the back bedroom.

It didn't help when Marco came to collect his money and hit on me yet again. Naturally, it made my skin crawl, but it just irritated Drax even more.
 

"Lauren?" Savory taps on the accordion door. "Can I come in?"

He's really the nicest guy, and I have to wonder how he got swept up in the rocker life. It doesn't seem to suit his laid-back, not to mention sober, personality.

"Sure. What's up?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he says, sitting down next to me on the bed. "Doesn't seem like your wedding day is going so well."

Good grief. I roll my eyes at him. "Save, it doesn't really count if you can't remember it."

I can't tell if his grimace means he agrees with me or not. I choose to believe it does.

"Drax doesn't seem to think so."

"Please," I chuff. "He's just pouting because his precious fee-fees are hurt. He's not used to being the rejectee. It's not like he really wants to be married to me or anything. We made a drunken mistake."

He's about to say something when Jake pokes his head in the room. "You guys gotta see this!"

We make our way to the table where Frank is on the laptop. Drax is still playing the martyr up front. I don't even care. Seriously.

"Check it out," Frank says, pointing to the screen.
 

It's one of the snarkiest gossip sites on the web and right there at the top, in full color and high resolution, is an image of Drax and me stumbling out of the wedding chapel at oh-dark-thirty this morning.
 

I've never looked less like myself than in that photo -- and I don't mean that in a good way. My hair is a ratted mess and the black eyeliner that Drax applied before the show has smudged halfway down my cheeks. I'm braying like a donkey, clearly smashed, and to top it all off, my boobs are on the verge of slopping out of my corset...again. Drax, on the other hand, looks as delicious as ever grinning down at me.

The headline reads, "What the Hell Happens in Vegas?!" I'm afraid to look at the photo caption but I can't help myself. I'm like a moth to a flame -- or in this case, the fiery inferno of hell.

Dark rocker Drax with his new mystery bride. What was he thinking...or drinking?

But it doesn't stop there. The blogger has drawn a speech bubble over Drax's head that says,
Accepting drinks laced with roofies? YOLO!

I try to hide my horror but Savory is sensitive enough to see it immediately, unlike the other two dolts, who are chortling away.
 

"Why don't you sit down?" he says, guiding me to the couch. He looks up to the front of the bus. "Drax. You need to see this."

Drax swivels, sees me, and quickly averts his gaze. It's painfully clear he doesn't want to breathe the same air as me, and I'd go back to the bedroom if my limbs would just obey my brain. But they're paralyzed with humiliation.

"What?" he grumbles as he approaches.
 

His bandmates are reading the story so he leans over them to see what's so important. I can't peel my gaze away from his face. At first, there's confusion, similar to what I felt. Then, as it all sinks in, anger. He flicks a glance my way, and a small, squeaky part of my brain wonders what he sees. The gross girl in the photo or the woman he made love to last night. I know the image on the screen is burned into
my
memory forever.

Doesn't matter. This just confirms what I already knew: We don't belong together. An ugly tingle forms behind my eyes and I don't even try to stop the tears. I certainly can't look any worse than the photo they're all staring at.

"What's the article say?" I whisper from the couch, not really wanting to find out.
 

"Nothing," Drax blurts out. "It says nothing. Just a bunch of bullshit guesswork. Fuckin' asshole! If I ever meet that douchebag, I'll kill him."

He slams the laptop shut and storms back to the bedroom. I'm trembling all over and tears stream down my cheeks unchecked, more proof than I ever needed that being in the spotlight isn't for me. Neither is Drax.

I expected to be fired as Roadkill's manager the minute we got back to the Bay Area but Savory informed me that they voted to keep the status quo...for the moment. He didn't mention if the vote was unanimous.

Naturally, I immediately sent out a press release denying the unfounded rumors, blah blah blah, knowing Drax was getting his lawyer to process the annulment. By the time anyone has a chance to figure it out, it'll be like the so-called wedding never took place. In the meantime, the media frenzy has died down to a dull roar over the past couple weeks and no one's the wiser that I'm the mystery girl in the photo.

So I'm doing what I can for the band, which is precious little, from the tiny back office in my dads' record store. Every day I push farther and farther out from California, contacting all the normal venues and promotion companies, but no one will touch Roadkill with a ten-foot pole. It seems Marvin Harmony managed to make good on his threat and the band has been blackballed.
 

I suspected as much but my old coworker Michelle confirmed it when she had to pass on a show. "Sorry, Lo, but I'm still new here. Now's not the time to put my neck on the line. Marvin's a spiteful old fuck. Don't hate me!"

I could never hate her but I'm frustrated as hell. We're dead in the water until I can figure out something, and it doesn't help that the drummer is off in a pricey gambling recovery center and that the lead singer has been MIA ever since the bus rolled into town a couple weeks ago. I can't very well book any shows that do come our way when I don't know if we'll have a full band.

"Any luck, honeybear?" Dad, wearing an ancient 'Frankie Says Relax' T-shirt,
 
sets a steaming cup of Sleepytime tea in front of me. Normally, that's the strongest thing I'll take to relax, and as much as I appreciate the thought, it's not going to come close to doing the trick.
 

"Nope."

"Well, you'll figure out something. You always do."

I snort. "Oh, really? Dad, I suck. I'm a complete and utter failure at this band management thing. I mean, I didn't really think I could do it in the first place, so I don't know why I'm surprised, but it just really bums me out."

"Lauren, I so wish you could see what I and everyone around you sees. You're a smart, beautiful, capable woman. You stepped into an impossible position with that band and you saved their asses. Twice. Who else could have done that? Who else would have bothered even trying?"

I shrug, still feeling a little sorry for myself but my father's praise is like a salve. He's always known just what to say to make me feel better. And if he didn't, Papi did.

"It's too bad that Draymond fellow didn't want to pursue things. He seemed...nice."
 

Um, yeah. I maybe didn't tell anyone about my little elopement. My dads would have been over the moon thrilled -- mostly at the idea of getting me out of the house, I think -- and Pepper would have flipped her shit on me. She may be smaller than me, but I'm pretty sure she could kick my ass two ways to Sunday. Thank God they don't read the gossip blogs.