“Strippers? Fuck, Slater.” Noah chuckles while shaking his head. “You’ll feel her wrath no matter what—there’s no fury like a woman scorned.”
Nick nods, agreeing with Noah’s statement.
“Whatever, we aren’t dating.” That wasn’t by my choice either, but I’ll never admit that out loud.
Nick’s brow cocks before he joins our conversation. “Dating or not, you’ll feel the wrath of her jealousy.”
My eyes shift between my three bandmates, who are gawking at me with amusement. The mirth on their faces pisses me the fuck off. I’m not the one who left without saying goodbye. I’m not the one who broke her heart, so why am I the one who has to alter my life because she’s re-entered it?
“Whatever, the strippers were totally worth it…”
My sneer has barely left my mouth when a sheet of paper is thrust onto the desk in front of me. Lifting my gaze, I’m stung by the angry glare of a pretty pair of hazel eyes. I swallow harshly as Kylie moves down the desk, handing sheets of paper to the rest of the band.
Once she saunters back to the table she was initially standing by, my band members’ eyes return to me. When they spot my shocked expression, they chuckle in sync.
“You just dug your hole even deeper,” Noah says between breathless laughs.
“Shut the fuck up.” I hit him with a stern finger point before Emily joins us. Her presence brings them back into line. Bunch of pussies.
This is one part of my job I hate. Why do we need to talk to the press? Even when we tell them something until we’re blue in the face, they still run a story full of half-truths. Half the shit I read on the gossip sites is fabricated. I had my fair share of negative stories printed when the band first rose to fame, but I’ve worked hard the past year to clean up my image. Not just for the band’s sake, but also for Serena’s. But even if I go to church every Sunday and never fuck another groupie again, I’ll always be portrayed as the bad boy of Rise Up.
You do one stint in rehab, and you never live it down.
Not long after Kylie vanished, the band hit it big. Since my mind was preoccupied with everything going on, I didn’t have a chance to work out what the fuck happened between us. When Noah had his accident, my life spiraled out of control.Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n rollis exactly how it sounds. Once Noah recovered from his accident, I dabbled in it all.
Nick and Jenni had Jasper to keep them grounded. Noah and Emily were getting married and expecting their first baby in a few weeks’ time. Excluding the occasional visit from Marcus, I was left twiddling my fucking thumbs. For years, the band practiced every weekday and performed every weekend. Then suddenly, nothing but static. When you're used to constant buzzing, deafening silence unravels the strongest person.
When I was home alone, memories of Kylie filtered through my brain. I couldn’t figure out what I had done to make her leave without saying goodbye. Wanting to escape my memories, I went to have a beer at Mavericks. When I arrived unannounced, I was treated like a god by our old fans. Soon, the hype and praise overruled my moral compass, and I got swept away by the rock star lifestyle.
The women and the booze were endless, but within weeks, it wasn’t enough. It only took Marcus visiting me once to know something wasn’t right. When he showed up the next day with my dad in tow, I didn’t have a chance in hell of not going to rehab. My dad would have kicked my ass all the way there if he needed to. Then, when I saw the disappointed look on my mom’s face when she visited me after my first week, I knew I’d never touch drugs again. I was the only child she had left, and I refused to put her through the pain of losing another child.
My little sister Serena passed away six days after her thirteenth birthday. She fought as hard as she could and was strong until the very end. Even the most aggressive treatments couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Although her disease beat her, her strength and determination not to let it dampen her quality of life inspired me to improve mine.
I haven’t touched a drug since the day I went to rehab, but the gossip sites consistently run stories about my booze, crack, and hooker weekends. I’ve never paid anyone to have sex with me, and just because they’re strippers doesn’t make them prostitutes. The crack was never true, but there’s a slight amount of truth about the booze side of the story. I can drink any of the roadies under the table without getting a hangover the next day.
Once our press conference is over, I head to my dressing room to get ready to perform. Big Halo kicks off our show with a thirty-minute set, then we’re on stage for two hours straight. I always eat something decent before we begin because I need enough food in my stomach to last me the entire two hours.
Upon entering my dressing room, I spot the back of Kylie removing containers of takeout from a delivery bag to place them on a table Marcus and I have in our dressing room. When she hears the door creak, her neck cranks to face me. She smiles shyly before she continues serving the food.
“They didn’t have the chicken marsala you requested, so I got you the chicken mermaid instead, but I asked them to leave off the cashew cream sauce,” she advises me, surprising me that she remembers I hate any type of nuts.
Once the items are set up, she pivots around. When I glance into her eyes, I picture the girl I met over two years ago; she’s just hiding under a heavy coating of makeup and skimpy clothes.
“Why are you wearing that?” She’s naturally beautiful, so she doesn’t need to hide under layers of makeup.
“Because this is whatnormalpeople do.” Her voice is cold and distant compared to a few seconds ago. “Unlike strippers, most people wear clothes to work.”
Her snide comment confirms what Noah and Nick suspected. She’s pissed I went to a strip club last night.
“What do you want me to do, Kylie? Stop my lifestyle because you suddenly turn up again?”
She remains quiet as her hazel eyes bounce between mine. Their wetness should house my scorn for another day, but the slight part of her lips has me stepping up to the plate I should have stood at years ago.
“This is me. This is my life now. I go to strip clubs; I fuck groupies, and I don’t answer to anyone.” A single tear drips down her face, but now that my anger is uncorked , I can’t reel it back in. “Let me live my life, and you go live yours.” My eyes roam over her heavily coated face and scantily clad body. “Yourreallife, not what youassumepeople want.”
With that, I pivot on my heels and storm into the bathroom, needing distance before one of the knives her tears directed at my heart hits it target. Kylie has no fucking clue I would have picked the girl I met two years ago over any stripper or groupie. She would have always been my first choice. Butshewas the one who left without saying goodbye.Shechose to end our relationship, so nowshemust live with the consequences of her actions.
Chapter Ten
