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Presley, I reminded myself.
Sunny was fantasy I’d created in my head, about a girl I’d wanted to fuck.
And I’d done that.
It was time to move on.
“You’re in a piss poor mood,” Kingston said as we headed backstage. Sometimes we went back to the hotel between soundcheck and the show; other times, we just hung out. Tonight, it seemed like we were going to hang out.
“Remember that journalist who wanted an interview in Minneapolis?” I asked.
He nodded, cocking his head slightly as he waited for me to answer.
“Turned out she was the bartender at the resort.”
He arched his brows. “And?”
“Did you fuck her?” Tommy asked, leaning over the back of the couch we’d just settled on.
I reached up and smacked him in the forehead. “Let me tell the story, man.”
He chuckled. “By all means.”
“Did you give her the interview?” Kellan asked, making a face.
“Would you fuckers let me tell you without interrupting?” I snapped.
Kingston laughed. “This ought to be good.”
“So, what happened?” Carter turned a chair backwards and straddled it, seemingly interested.
“I didn’t recognize her,” I admitted. “She looked totally different behind the bar, all made up and shit. There was no one else there, so we talked while I ate and then while she cleaned up.”
“Then you fucked her?” Kellan prodded impatiently.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, but that’s not the story. Get this: In the morning, I overheard her on the phone with her editor or whoever. He was on speakerphone and asked if she’d gotten the interview. She said she was working on it. So the whole thing was a set-up.”
“I don’t see the problem here,” Carter said slowly. “If you’d done the interview the other night, chances are you wouldn’t have slept with her. This way, she got her interview and you got laid. What’re you mad about?”
“I didn’t give her the interview!” I said, scowling at him. “Jesus, she fucking lied to me.”
“How is that different from every other chick you sleep with on tour?” Carter asked. “Don’t they tell us whatever we want to hear so they can spend the night?”
It was a good thing he was like a brother to me, because sometimes I wanted to smack him.
“It’s different because I’d already said no. Then, when we ran into each other again, since I didn’t recognize her right away, but she knew who I was, she purposely hid not just her identity, but what she wanted.”
“She couldn’t have known you were going to be at the bar where she works,” Kingston said. “It was a coincidence, right?”
I hesitated. It couldn’t have been anything more than a coincidence since I always checked in under an assumed name. Everything was paid for by my business manager, so I didn’t have to deal with credit cards or anything. The only exception was when I rented a car, but Presley hadn’t been there for that.
“Let me get this straight. You got laid and you didn’t have to give an interview,” Kellan said, laughing when I didn’t respond right away. “Sounds like win-win to me.”
So why didn’t it feel that way?
I felt betrayed.
Pissed off.
