by Shey Stahl
I swallow, pushing my chest away from his. “Did we?”
He smirks, his eyes searching mine. His warm hand moves from my waist to my cheek, grabbing my face gently. “You’d know if we did.”
My voice automatically drops as I whisper, “I would?”
“You would,” he murmurs, stepping back, distance created between us. His reply is evasive and confusing.
It’s his reply that catches me off guard, my throat bubbling with questions. I blink, terrified of what’s happening between us. The electricity, the spark, it’s undeniable and intense. Can he feel it too? Is that why he distanced himself from me?
The way he’s watching me, he knows what happened last night. He knows, and he’s doing this on purpose. I want to beg him to tell me every detail, but I know he won’t. Stupid secret keeper!
My breath is shaky as I exhale slowly, finding the courage to ask, “Where’s Bella?” I change the subject and set the lighter back on the dresser.
Revel sighs, running his hand over his face and pushing past me out of the bathroom. I turn, leaning into the doorframe and watching him move through the room. He reaches for the lighter on the dresser, then his cigarettes and sits on the edge of the bed. “Last time I saw her she was with Cruz.”
Keeping a tight grip on the sheet, I watch his every move closely. “Is he bad news?”
He digs a cigarette from the pack, a tiny flame illuminating his features. He inhales, then shakes his head on the exhale. “He’s not trouble.”
My eyes search his. “And you?”
His cold hard eyes lift to mine, but they’re gone just as quickly when he lies back against the mattress. The coat falls open, and I’m granted the view of his chiseled chest and abdomen. He takes another drag of his cigarette. He coughs out a laugh. “I’m not sure you want the answer to that one, Red.”
He’s probably right, but it doesn’t stop me from realizing I no longer have an aversion to him. I don’t know when it happened either. Maybe when he walked out on that stage last night, or maybe something that happened last night? I used to hear his name and I’d roll my eyes. Now, now the mere mention of him, let alone the sight, it sends my heart thudding into a thunderous rhythm I can’t control. What changed? Why am I standing here wanting to crawl up his body and explore every inch of exposed skin and attack him with my mouth?
Dragging his elbows underneath him, Revel looks up at me, waiting for me to reply.
I don’t. I’m not sure I can because I know he’s right. He is trouble. I’m just not willing to see it at the moment. What I can see is that ridiculous fur coat.
“Seriously though.” I can’t keep a straight face with him wearing it. “Why are you wearing that?”
His lips quirk into a smirk, his leg shifting to flop one side of it open. My eyes immediately land on his junk. Luckily, or maybe not so luckily, he’s wearing black boxer briefs and I don’t get a peek at any of the goods. “Some lady wanted my clothes. I wanted her coat. Seemed like a fair trade at the time.” With his chin tucked down, his eyes drift to mine. “That was right after you kissed me last night.”
“Seriously?” My eyes widen and I can’t control my tone when I say, “I did not.”
He lifts his chin, his eyes following my every movement. “You sound disappointed.”
Crap. He noticed. “I do not.” I fumble over words, clearly trying to backtrack. “I just don’t think I would have kissed you.”
He stands and makes his way over to me but stops about a foot away. He runs his palm along his jaw. “Why?” he asks, clearing his throat.
“Why what?”
“Why wouldn’t you have kissed me?”
I think of how his mouth might feel pressed to mine, the expression on his face now as he watches me with parted lips. “Because I’m not that kind of girl.”
His shoulders shake with laughter, but it’s his eyes that remain hard and critical of me. “What are you, in third grade? It’s a fucking kiss. It’s not like we fucked.”
My entire body breaks out in flames and my armpits itch. Wrapping my arms around myself, I attempt to hide my discomfort. Shaking slightly, I bury my chin in the sheet and hide my lips beneath the fabric. “When did we, uh, kiss?” I can’t even make eye contact with him.
Licking his lips, Revel traps me between the dresser and the door. One fur-covered arm lifts up, his palm pressing to the wall behind me. “We didn’t.” He winks and raises the hand that isn’t holding his cigarette to my face. Running a finger along my jaw, he makes a humming noise, stepping closer. “I just want to get a reaction out of you.”
Playfully, I shove against his chest. “You’re such a jerk.” My pulse quickens when I realize I’m touching him. I drop my hand.
“Yeah, probably.” He nods, bringing his cigarette to his lips again. Drawing in a heavy pull, he angles his head to blow the smoke up into the air above us. My eyes drift to his jaw, his throat, his collarbone, everywhere I’m itching to touch. His jaw is tense and his lips press into a thin line. “But, Red, I’m the only one who was looking out for you last night.”
My heart feels weak against the protectiveness his words hold. His proclamation tears at my nerves, words blurring together, confessions so bright they burn. He’s looking out for me. He’s not pushing me away or telling me I can’t do this.
I nod, bubbles of regret filling my stomach. “Could have fooled me,” I say lamely.
He watches me carefully, backs up, eyes assessing, and then moves toward the door.
You know when you’re watching a horror movie, and the girl hears a noise in the basement followed by breaking glass? You’re genuinely disappointed in her when she sneaks downstairs in her too-revealing nightgown holding a toothbrush as her weapon instead of calling the police. Girl, I get it. Me too. You’re thinking to yourself, Christ, sister, call the freaking police. But it’s too late by that point because the moment she descends those stairs, the door slams shut and bam, throat slit. Well, you know, I totally feel for the dumbasses in those movies now because guess what I did last night? I went and checked out the noise and that guy, the villain in the story? He slaughtered my heart after one night.
Didn’t think that was possible, did ya?
Totally. Possible.
You were there on that stage with me. You saw all the moves. Rock stars have game.
I have every reason in the world to stay away from him, but damn it, his mystery draws me in. Every time I’m in a room with him, I want to shake him and demand for him to tell me everything.
Just before he opens the door to leave the room, he looks over his shoulder at me. “Hey, Red?” There’s an emotion that appears behind heavily guarded blues, tempting me to the edge. My chest hurts, suddenly alive and aching for more.
“Yeah?”
“I had the opportunity last night, and I didn’t. That should tell you where my loyalty lies.”
Gulp.
You know in Batman when Jack Napier fell into the acid bath and turned into the Joker? Do you remember what he said?
I’ll refresh your memory, because it’s one of my favorite movies once Christian Bail took over. . . but that’s beside the point. The Joker said: “Jack? Jack is dead, my friend. You can call me. . . Joker. And as you can see, I’m a lot happier.”
Taylan Ash? You can call me Red. As you can see, trouble makes me a lot happier.
After leaving the hotel room, I don’t find Bella anywhere in the hotel. And as it turns out, this wasn’t my room anyway. It was Revel’s.
In the lobby, I call Bella, only to get her voice mail. “Some kind of assistant you are!” I yell into the phone, then hang up. I call my security next, only to find them outside the hotel waiting for me.
Ben, the head of my security, smiles at me and opens the door to a black Tahoe. “It’s nice to see you this morning, Ms. Ash.”
Sighing in relief, I toss my hair up in a bun and head toward the SUV. “Sorry about last night, B.”
Knowing exactly what I
like, he hands me a coffee as he’s closing the door. “It’s no problem. I wasn’t far away.”
I knew it. Ben would never leave me unattended, and then it hits me, he wasn’t far away. Maybe he knows what happened last night?
I peek my head over the seat, resting my chin on the leather. “B?”
He smiles at me in the rearview mirror. “Yes, Ms. Ash?”
“You don’t happen to know what happened last night, do you?”
“Other than you ditching me?”
I laugh. The sound makes my head throb, but I’m discordant and somewhat desperate for the details. “I know, but I don’t remember anything other than going to a bar.”
“You went there, then you ended up at Mango’s and stayed there until going back to his hotel room.”
“His?”
“Yes, Mr. Slade’s.”
Oh. I knew that. Hello, I woke up naked there. “Did I make a fool of myself?”
Look at Ben. His smile is genuine when he says, “You looked happy.”
I fight back a smile because you know, I feel happy. All over. Actually, no, I’m sore all over, but underneath the protesting muscles, happiness is invading my Joker veins. “Have you seen Bella?”
Merging into traffic, Ben nods. “She’s sleeping off a hangover on the bus.”
We make our way back to where my bus is parked, three black SUVs lined up outside it. I exit the Tahoe, with Ben’s help, and the moment I’m on the bus, I notice my dad sitting at the dinette, a fixated glare directed my way.
With my coffee still in hand, I take a slow sip and keep my voice chipper as can be. “Morning.”
Dad doesn’t look up and goes straight to business. “I’m adding more security to the venues.”
I close the door behind me, thinking of seeing if I can have the locks changed on my tour bus. “I don’t think that’s needed.”
“I don’t really care what you think,” he adds, voice cool and composed.
I snort. “That’s probably the most truthful statement you’ve made in a long time.” There used to be a time in my life when this man was my hero. He could do no wrong in my eyes, but I was blinded by the blanket of innocence he created around me. He didn’t let me see his faults, until I was old enough to notice.
Dad’s eyes don’t lift from the iPad. “Care to explain this?”
I step forward. No, I don’t want to explain because I don’t remember. I don’t tell him that though. I once had to explain why I snuck out of the house at fourteen to go to a party he said I couldn’t attend, only to have him scold me about “my image,” and if I was to get caught drinking underage, what it’d do to my fans who looked up to me. I saw his point of view that time, it held validity, but now that I’m twenty-one, is it really that bad that I go out and enjoy being young?
I didn’t think so.
Dad slides the iPad toward me with an article pulled up on E! online. I don’t look at it right away. The brightness of the screen hurts my eyes. But then the curiosity is too much, and I cave.
E! NEWS
SLADE AND ASH GETTING COZY ON TOUR
Multiple bands from the One Vibe tour took over Taverns, but it was Revved’s front man and the princess of pop who everyone is talking about this morning. According to those closest to the rock pair, they were seen flirting and laughing the entire time. She was resting her head on his shoulder and he had his arm around her. They looked like they were dating. A video has surfaced of the pair in a lively duet of “Friends in Low Places” aided by whatever they were chugging.
What? That sounds amazing! I’m bummed I don’t remember. I scroll down further. There are a couple of photographs attached, and it’s not the article that catches my attention. It’s him in that fur coat, smiling. I look absolutely giddy, but it’s him that makes my heart swell. He looks. . . happy.
A pang of guilt hits my chest. I really wish I could remember the details of last night. I wish I could recall the way that arm resting on my shoulders felt and the security I imagine enveloping me. In his arms, I appear untouchable.
“I’m going to ask one more time,” Dad says, drawing me from my thoughts. “Can you explain this?”
Not really. My eyes drift from the screen to my dad. “I didn’t know I had to explain myself.”
His cold eyes narrow. “If this is how you want to go about getting the respect of a new genre, there are easier ways of going about it.”
“Is there? Maybe I should ask Hensley. I bet she has some awesome pointers for me.” I’m no good at being vindictive. In fact, I’m awful at it, but it seems the more I hang around Revel, the more I stand up for myself and the more my words twist and become malevolently awesome. I should totally thank him. But then he’d probably tease me about it.
As though I lit a fuse, anger sparks in Dad’s eyes, and then he closes them, as if to sever the lies before they’re seen. “You have no right to talk to me that way.”
“Does Mom know?”
A hushed curse falls from his mouth. “I’m not having this conversation with you. As your label, I strongly suggest you think about who you’re exposing yourself to.”
Sipping on my coffee, I lean into the countertop with my hip. “Actually, I’m thinking of suggesting a duet with him.” Ha. Take that. Can you see the smirk on my face? I’m rather enjoying this new Taylan Ash that’s emerged. She’s kind of a badass.
“The fuck you are!” Dad interrupts vehemently, slamming his palm to the table. “I will never let your name under my label be attached to Revved.”
I stand my ground. “I am. And I find it entertaining that you don’t want your label attached to him, when you drooled over their band for years before they were signed. The only reason you don’t want anything to do with Revved, or Revel, has everything to do with them refusing to sign.” I think about the high I had once he came on stage with me last night, and the rush of confidence I had just being near him. And I’m reminded of who saved me last night. Who stood up when the crowd turned. “And you know.” I pause, smiling at the man I’m not sure I know anymore. As my record label, yeah, he’s doing his job, but as a father, he lacked in that area more than he could ever understand. “You could have stepped in last night. Anyone could have, but it was Revel who stood up for me in front of thousands and risked his reputation coming to my aide.”
He wavers, measuring my intentions, then gives me a narrowing glinting side-eye. “You know why he did?”
“Because he cares.”
“No, he doesn’t. He thinks fucking my daughter is a status for him. That’s all you will ever be to him. Another notch on his way to the top.”
A sense of inadequacy sweeps over me. That nagging truth I fear in the back of my mind surfaces, but I refuse to believe it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t?” His voice is colored in neutral shades, something he’s really good at doing with clients. “Why is it he’s avoided you until now? Is that why he took every opportunity he could to talk crap about you in front of the media?”
I chew on my lower lip, uncertainty creeping into my thoughts. “I want you to present a duet to their manager.”
Dad looks up at me, regarding me quizzically for a moment and then shakes his head in disappointment, his eyes drifting to the iPad on the table. “It’s career suicide.”
“I don’t agree with you.”
With a huffed motion, my dad stands. When he’s at the door, he looks back at me. “You need to think about the decisions you’re making. He may seem like the perfect opportunity for this little rebellion thing you’ve got going on, but he’s only using you. I didn’t raise my daughter to give up everything over a boy.”
And then the door slams behind him.
Over a boy? How could he give up everything over a girl? I want so badly to ask my dad about the rumors, but then again, once I hear the truth from his lips, there’s no going back. I’m not sure I want to know for real. My entire life I looked up to him in awe of what he ac
complished. What I hadn’t considered was that to get there, he used everyone in his path, indifferent to the consequences of his actions and who he hurt in the process.
We leave for Los Angeles that afternoon. Ben was right. Bella was sound asleep in my bed. She doesn’t wake up for three more hours and knows nothing about last night, other than she “thinks” she slept with Cruz. Turns out I’m not the only one with a foggy memory from last night.
“In my bed?” I gasp, scowling at her.
With her hair in a stack on top of her head, she brings the bottle of water she’s holding to her lips and shrugs her petite shoulder. “I don’t know. But he sent me a text asking if I wanted my panties back.”
I stifle a giggle in my hand. “Did you say yes?”
“I haven’t replied yet.”
“Playing hard to get?”
Her eyes cloud with unease. “I don’t know what I did last night, but I think maybe I need to back off a little. I don’t want him thinking I’m easy.”
“Might be a little late for that one, sister.”
Bella slaps at my arm, rolling her eyes. “You’re one to talk.”
I gasp. “I didn’t sleep with Revel.”
Her brow furrows. “You didn’t?”
“No. . . .”
She senses my ambiguity. “You don’t remember, do you?”
I lie down on the bed, curling into my pillow, the gentle rocking of the bus cruising down the highway providing a comfortable distraction. “Nope.”
Bella lies back, resting her head on the pillow next to me and bops my nose. “We’re quite the pair, Tay.”
We are, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve never had the opportunity to have friends. It’s just never been that way in an industry full of fake people. But Bella, this tiny little fighter, despite being family, she’s always there for me no matter what. Until Cruz came into the picture, but I can forgive her for that.
