“Hey, Man. I didn’t know you guys were in the area.” Brantley gushed, turning his attention to the man that made my brain turn to mush and my heart basically burst right out of my damn chest.
“Yeah, we are laying down a track at the JayBird,” Reid replied, lifting the helmet off his head.
Breathe Molly Anne. Take a fucking breath, damn it.
“So you’re writing again?”
“Yeah, finally have some good material to get out.” Reid glanced down at me on the track, his face void of any expression whatsoever. Pain shot through my body while I studied his face. I would have killed for a smile, frown, scowl, grin, fucking anything other than that blank stare of doom. If a theme song could have been playing in the background, “Cold Hard Bitch,” would have been played extra loudly over life’s speakers.
“Are you just going to lie there all afternoon, or are you going to get back on the bike?” Brantley laughed, extending his hand out for me.
Most people would just grab it; letting the man help you up. However, I continued to stare at it, wondering if taking it would mean something else to the man on the other side of me. I doubt it looked good that I was hanging out with him again outside of work. Not that it really mattered, but all girly feelings inside my body were made painfully obvious in my little blonde head. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Reid being that obvious hard place one that I wanted to throw myself on and fuck like little horny bunnies, and Brantley being the rock. The stupid rock my ass landed on when I crashed seconds earlier.
Glancing up at the sky, the dark clouds seemed to appear out of nowhere, and without a single warning a Californian rainstorm decided to unleash its hell. Yep, I considered that moment very fitting of the situation. Fucking black rain clouds.
I was completely soaked from head to toe by the time I got my gigantic bruised ego and ass back to the shop of the track. The guys had already hung up their helmets on the pegs and stripped off their soaked jerseys; standing there topless like it was something they did every damn day. Well, technically they were rock stars, who frequently toss articles of clothing out into the audience. Glaring at the men behind my goggles, I heaved myself off the bike and fumbled with the kickstand, silently cursing the entire time.
“Here let me help you with that, Crash.” Brantley laughed, pushing me away with his hip while taking the bike and replacing it in a rack.
“I could have fucking done that,” I snapped, tossing the goggles and helmet on the old worn couch to the left of the room.
“I see that fall apparently affected your piss poor attitude, too.”
“I told you it was a bad idea,” I grumbled, trying to find anything interesting in this damn place to focus my attention to, other than Reid’s tattooed body of splendor.
Reid’s laughter caught my attention as I tried hard to focus on the bulletin board across the room. My damn girly bits were screaming for me to wake up and take notice, but my stupid ego and heart refused to look in his direction.
“How in the hell did you get her out on the track, Brantley?”
“You know this little spitfire never turns down a challenge.” Brantley laughed, forcing me to clench my teeth together to prevent a verbal out lash of stupidity.
“She is a little stubborn, huh?”
“Let’s quit walking on fucking eggshells here. Yes, I rode a motorcycle or whatever the hell you want to call that piece of machine. So why don’t you both just cut the crap,” I raved, whirling my body around to face the two men that had caused so much joy and heartbreak in my life.
“Reid, I want to introduce the raving bitch that has accompanied us on tour since you stopped fucking her.” Brantley gave his infamous smirk while crossing his arms over his sculpted chest.
My eyes grew five times too large for my head, as my mouth basically hit the floor. First I had not been a raving bitch, and second, had it really been that obvious?
“So, I guess I don’t have to ask how the tour is going.” Reid smiled, letting me see that sparkle in his eye once again.
“You’re a dick,” I snarled while ripping the wet jersey over my head and tossing it at my now sworn enemy. Storming for the door, I refused to look back and give the guys the satisfaction of the classic but typical ‘look back’ moment.
“Hey, Molly Anne,” Reid called out, instantly stopping me in my tracks. “You forgot your shirt.” Glancing down at my lacy red bra, I cringed internally. Knowing that my white skin had already flushed a perfect shade of red to match my bra, I took a deep breath and exploded out into the rain.
“Do I want to know where your shirt is?” Megan questioned, cocking her head to the side.
“Well, I can tell you it didn’t come off for a sexual encounter if that is what you’re getting at,” I sighed, flopping myself down on the couch across from the table on the crew bus.
“Alright, well I’m just going to act like you’re not half naked sitting on the couch and go over a couple things that are happening the rest of the week.”
I raised my eyebrows in agreement without making eye contact with her. I already felt like a complete boob, and sitting here in somewhat dry motocross pants and a lacy bra was not exactly something I really wanted to explain right now, anyway.
“So tomorrow after our show in Los Angeles, I just got word that we have to pack up and head straight out for Phoenix. PR called and said the guys are booked on the largest morning show in the Arizona market on Friday at seven in the morning. So if we are packed and on the road by midnight, we should get there a little after six and basically roll in just in time for the interview.”
“Who was the idiot that scheduled this time fuck?”
“Stephanie………………” Megan’s voice trailed off softly.
“Sorry, I’m in a foul mood.”
“Does this happen to be about Black Laden being in town?”
“Like I said, I don’t want to talk about it.” I groaned, closing my eyes to hopefully block out all the shit from the day.
“So, I’m really sorry to be telling you this then………………but………………”
“Just fucking spill it Megan. Pretty sure the day can’t get much worse,” I shrugged, letting out a snort of disgust.
“Well, after the Phoenix show, you are getting on a plane back for LA,” Megan gushed quickly, bringing the file folder she was holding up to cover half of her face. Why in the hell was I being brought back to LA? Our office headquarters were in Seattle, and Stephanie was in New York at the moment. “Good news is that Danielle is going with,” Megan tried to say with enthusiasm, knowing my mind was already tearing apart what she just divulged.
“For what?” I snapped, still completely unsure to the reasoning behind sending my ass back to LA.
“Promise you won’t throw anything at me?” Megan’s voice squeaked while scooting further back at the table. Rolling my eyes, I gestured with my hands to just get it over with. “You are going back for a video shoot.”
“What? When was this scheduled? How in the hell am I going to be an efficient manager if I only know the plans days before it happens?
“It’s not for PD.”
“You’ve completely lost me,” I questioned, forcing myself to sit up straighter on the couch.
“It’s for Black Laden,” Megan whispered.
Been there, done that, wrote the country song. Not going to happen again.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I shrieked, leaping to my feet and immediately starting to pace the small living area. “Who in the hell came up with this stupid idea? I mean seriously, everyone with the damn company knows the fall out I had with Reid. This just screams toxic meltdown.”
“I don’t know who ordered it; the only information I got was you and Danielle are getting on a plane at ten Friday night, and won’t be back until Sunday night.”
“I’m not doing this, Megan. Seriously, it’s not going to happen. This afternoon running into him was a train wreck of a disaster, and
they actually expect me to work on his video shoot?” I knew deep down inside, my heart couldn’t handle watching him belt those lyrics out, knowing damn well the moment his voice came through the speakers my heart would break all over again. I barely got through this afternoon, and he said maybe two sentences to me. How in the world was I going to spend an entire day on shoot with him? I may be tough, and this might be my dream job, but I would have to give it all up in order to save my sanity. Seeing that man groping, fondling, licking, sucking, and lord only knows what else was going to happen with some skanky model on screen would basically be the end of me. Call the funeral home; I was going to be singing my swan song.
Bolting down the bus steps, I scurried through the rain to the other bus. Who cares that I was freezing as the rain pelted my skin; I just needed to get my cell and call Steph. Punching the code to get onto the bus, I hopped up the steps, my eyes already scanning for the work phone.
“Molly, that is a seriously sexy look.” Chance laughed, breaking my focus instantly. My hands shot up to cup each breast as I narrowed my eyes at the fucker. Noticing my phone sitting on the edge of the couch, I glared at the douche waffle.
“Phone,” I seethed, motioning for him to grab it. Opening my mouth, I waited for him to place it between my lips.
“This is seriously the best fucking picture ever,” Chance moaned, reaching over and placing my phone into my mouth. I swear, if I could have shot bullets out of my eyes, or even tits for that matter, that boy would have been dead the second he opened his mouth. Sending him one last evil look, I hurried to the bunks to grab a shirt from a bag. I didn’t care whose shirt I was going to throw on. All it needed to do was cover the little’s so this phone conversation with Stephanie could happen. This video shoot was going down with me working for it; I just wasn’t going to be a part of it. Simple as that.
Chapter 11
Did you just get verbally punched in the vagina?
I’m pretty sure if someone was to look up the definition of insanity, there would be a picture of myself alongside the definition. For the most part, I could never really classify myself as a ‘sound’ person. I have always been a little off my rocker, and sitting here as I demolish my nails to bleeding stubs on my fingers is solid proof that I really should be locked away in the looney bin. My badass exterior and front I put on to fool the world apparently had vanished in the last year, only leaving this bleeding soul vulnerable for the whole world to pick apart. Little by little chunks of myself had disappeared, and even with all the soul searching, I still found myself lost in my own body. Sometimes my mind overtakes my heart, or vice versa, and this was the perfect point for my self-observations.
“I can’t believe I’m styling for this video shoot,” Danielle squealed from the seat next to mine. Of course this was her dream job. She was just a simple stylist on the Black Laden tour, and then was promoted to lead stylist with PD. Now, she gets her name printed in the credits for the video, cemented in rock history. I forced a smile through clenched teeth, glaring at the television screen mounted to the seat in front of me.
“Do you know the song title? I didn’t really look at the details yesterday, just started pulling pieces.”
“Ball busting bitch?” I answered with sarcasm.
“For serious?”
“No. I guess their first release is titled Damaged Love.” I only hoped that my name would not magically appear in the lyrics. Then again, it was totally egotistical and selfish to believe this song had anything to do with me.
“You really burned his balls there, didn’t you, Killer?” Megan mocked, batting her insanely huge eyelashes at me.
“Fuck you,” I managed to spit back before closing my eyes. I really started to wonder if I had no balls left. Technically I had no real balls, but I liked to believe that I sported an invisible pair. Obviously they had vanished, because the moment Stephanie answered her cell phone and started talking about the plans, all my cahonies disappeared and I verbally vomited about how fantastic the whole thing would be.
Oh yes, Stephanie, the video shoot is going to be so much fun. Thanks for letting me be a part of it, and I’m so excited to be working with the guys again. What a load of horseshit.
“So, I know I’m styling the band, but what exactly are you doing?” Danielle babbled, flipping through a fashion magazine so fast I doubt she actually had a clue what was on the pages.
“I don’t really know exactly. Stephanie didn’t really give me details, other than she was glad I said yes and that she couldn’t wait to see the end product.” I shrugged.
“Well whatever it is, I’m betting it’s going to be the shit! More wine, please?” Danielle asked the flight attendant walking by. Yep, keep on drinking. Tomorrow was bound to be a fucking circus anyway.
My alarm had been shrieking for god only knew how long when I finally rolled over and smashed the bastard. Forcing my eyes open, I caught a glimpse of the digital read out flashing fifteen past eight. After tucking a drunk Danielle into her bed a little past two, I managed to count all the damn farm animals possible up to twenty-four thousand before finally passing out. Three hours of sleep was not going to make me a happy Molly this morning. However, I doubted anything besides a giant cup of black coffee was going to make me move mountains anyway.
Dragging my ass into the shower, I stood and let the hot water run over my body. The warmth made me want to curl up on the shower floor and sleep, but I knew that wouldn’t be a smart idea. Sure, I was probably playing PA to the director, doing mindless crap all afternoon, but I couldn’t be a slug. Forcing myself to keep moving, I smashed some shampoo into my hair and clumsily rubbed it into my scalp. My hair was getting longer than I liked; now resting on my shoulders. I needed to get it colored and cut again, but I never made the time to do so.
“Why in the hell did you let me drink that much?” Danielle grumbled from outside the glass door.
“I’m not your keeper,” I shouted back, turning to rinse my hair quickly. Months ago I would have had a fit that she was in here, considering the shower was made of entirely glass and my buck naked self was standing there for her viewing pleasure.
“How in the hell did you get that bruise on your ass?”
“Dirt bike,” I replied, turning the shower knob and shaking out my hair. Opening the glass door, I stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel.
“I knew you liked it rough, but damn girl!” Megan laughed, slumped over the counter.
“The only kinky action my vagina sees is if I use a different lube on my vibrator.”
“You seriously need to get laid.”
Rolling my eyes, I finished drying my body off and tucked the towel tightly under my arms. Grabbing a brush from my bag, I raked it through my blonde hair methodically. Staring at my reflection, I couldn’t help but smile at the changes I had made these last couple months. Sure, I still may not be the strongest creature on the planet, but I could handle my own for the most part.
“Are you going to get ready? We have to be downstairs and in the car by nine-thirty,” I questioned, stuffing the toothbrush into my mouth.
“What? Do I really look that bad?”
Spiting the toothpaste out into the sink, I wiped the wetness from my lips with the back of my hand. “Well, if death had a drunken one night stand with a one eyed pirate hooker, I do believe you would be the offspring of said fun filled night.”
“Bitch,” Danielle grumbled, heaving herself off the counter and stumbling out of the bathroom.
“One hour, darling,” I shouted after her, still smiling as I placed the toothbrush back into my mouth.
I had to basically drag Danielle out of her hotel room just to make it downstairs on time. Not to mention I only had a small cup of coffee, and that wasn’t going to get me half way through the morning. How was it I could micromanage a big rock group and have them get everywhere on time, but when it was just myself I always seemed to just barely squeeze by?
“Ooh………this is so exc
iting,” Danielle raved while pressing her face to the car window. I swore she was wiggling in her seat the entire drive over to the sound lot; like a kid doing the potty dance.
“Yep,” I said with a sigh. It was inevitable that I would be running into Reid again, and after the last encounter at the track going so well, I was looking so forward to it.
“Miss Bangle, Miss McGlenister,” a young man said while opening the car door, offering a hand as we clambered out.
“Thank you,” we both replied instantly, glancing around at all the production staff wandering about.
“Miss Bangle, your wardrobe trailer is the last on the left. All of your purchases arrived early this morning, and have been set on racks in the trailer,” the man gestured behind him. “And Miss McGlenister, the director has asked that we bring you to his trailer when you arrived.”
“Have fun,” Danielle called out with a finger wave while speed walking to her trailer.
“Yep, fun,” I grumbled, nodding my head to the gentleman as I fell into step behind him, bound for the director’s quarters.
The PA knocked on the trailer door quickly, and then glanced back down at his clipboard. “Yes?” A voice rang out through the thin door.
“James, we have Miss. McGlenister outside.”
“Send her in, Parker,” the voice once again replied. Parker motioned for the steps, as he busied himself with the clipboard once again.
Hesitating at the top step, I wondered if I should knock again, or just open the door. It seemed redundant to announce my presence again, but, then again, it was not my trailer.
“Just go in,” Parker said in a hurry, giving me the ‘why are you stalling’ look. Slowly I turned the knob and opened the door.
“Ah, the infamous Miss. McGlenister,” the director exclaimed as I stepped over the threshold. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Michael James,” he said while extending his hand for me to shake.
Cheap & Classy (Hide Your Crazy) Page 7
