I take a deep breath and nearly vomit. The smell is unbearable, and I finally realize where I am. I’m in a fucking dumpster. Gasping, I push the lid off and climb out. I hunch over, wheezing as I try to breathe in some clean air.
I look around me, recognizing the structure in front of me. I’m out the back of the hotel. Relief washes through me, until I glance down and realize I’m naked.
Fuck. This isn’t good. I need to get inside and up to my room without being seen. But how the hell am I going to get inside my room with no fucking key? I reach into the dumpster and grab the first thing my hand hits; a grubby black plastic bag.
Wrapping it around my waist, I sneak over to the back door, praying that it’s open. My heart races as I pull the handle. It opens with ease.
Thank fucking god.
Somehow, I manage to navigate my way to Max’s floor without being seen. I reach his room and bang loudly until he opens it. His eyes widen when he sees me.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks, laughing.
“I wish I knew,” I mutter. “Can I use your shower and borrow some clothes?”
“I wish you would. You reek,” he replies, screwing up his nose.
I scowl at him and then head for the bathroom. I stand under the hot water for what feels like hours. I’m sure I still smell of trash but I don’t care. All I want to do is get into my room and get some sleep.
Max tries to talk to me once I’m dressed, but I’m not in the mood, mostly because I know that he’s going to say. I promise to make time for him later. I call up reception and explain I’ve lost my key. Young woman meets me at my room door with a new one. I thank her and go inside.
Walking over to the bed, I flop down, wishing the last twenty-four hours didn’t happened. I have no idea where my phone is, nor do I know what happened to Lyndall. The phone in my room rings. Gingerly, I lean over and answer it.
“What the hell happened to you?” Lyndall gasps. “You’re all over the news.”
Huh? I sit up and reach for the remote, hitting power. Sure enough, there I am in all my glory, passed out in the dumpster. Rock star out of control splashes across the bottom of the screen. Groaning, I turn it off.
I hadn’t even noticed the fucking paparazzi.
“I don’t remember anything,” I mutter. “And I’ve lost my phone.”
“I have it,” she replies. “I went to the bathroom and when I came back your phone was there but you weren’t. Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I groan. “I’ve got a killer headache that I think I need to sleep off.”
“Then do it. I’ll come over later, okay?” she asks.
“Sure. See you then.”
Chapter Eight
“Dude, can we talk?”
I turn and see Max standing in front of me, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. I’m juggling two coffees and some pastries that I got from a café down the road for Lyndall’s and my breakfast.
After a long nap last night I felt loads better. Lyndall came over and we stayed up half the night talking…among other things. She didn’t give me a hard time over the night before, which I’d been expecting. In the end, she stayed over and we fucked all night.
“Sure,” I say, hoping he makes whatever this is fast. These cups are fucking hot. “What’s up?”
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
I stop fidgeting with the cups and stare at him. Since when did he get all deep and meaningful?
“I’m fine,” I reply slowly. “Is this about anything specific?”
“You’ve been going out every night—”
“So have you,” I point out.
“Yeah, but that’s who I am, man. You’re not usually the guy who passes out naked in a dumpster.”
“Yeah, and I promise I’m not going to be that guy again,” I groan. “Look, Max, I appreciate what you’re saying, but I get enough shit from my family. I don’t need it from my friends too, okay?”
I walk off, feeling a little annoyed that he thinks I have the problem. Max is the definition of unstable rock star. So I fucked up. Big deal. I’ll learn from it and move on—that’s the difference between us. I’m starting to think that maybe going solo isn’t the worst idea in the world.
At least then nobody can tell me how to behave.
****
“The media adore you,” Lyndall says, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I roll my eyes and laugh. We’ve finished our breakfast and Lyndall seems to be intent on picking up where we left off last night.
“No, the media love having someone they can always rely on for a story. That’s what sells magazines.”
“And that’s what sells records too,” she points out. “Have I told you how sexy you are when you don’t shave?” she asks, running her fingers over my uneven stubble. I laugh and press my mouth against hers, savoring her sweet taste. “I have to go for a little bit, but I’ll be back soon.”
I nod and kiss her once more. As she turns, I slap her on the ass, making her jump.
“They’ll be more of that later,” I chuckle.
“I can’t wait,” she laughs, buttoning up her shirt.
She leans over and kisses me again, before walking out. As the door closes behind her, something catches my eye. Her phone is still on the coffee table. I walk over and pick it up.
Before I can chase after her, it beeps with a new message, bringing up her most recent conversation. I don’t recognize the name, but seeing my own name in the conversation catches my attention.
Jay: You need to make him believe it. The media won’t if he doesn’t, you know?
Lyndall: Trust me, I got this. Sax is eating out of my hand. You wanted a rock and roll bad boy and that’s what you’re getting.
Jay: And because of it, you’ll get what you deserve too.
Livid, I kick the edge of the bed, ignoring the pain pulsing through my big toe.
The fucking bitch is playing me.
Chapter Nine
Picking up the paper, I snort and toss it in the bin. So I’ve made the gossip column again, this time for being out late the night before a show. Who gives a shit? And how is that even gossip? It’s not like I’m hurting anyone.
Fucking Max. I’m sure he is the one who left the newspaper under my door. How many times do I need to tell the guy to keep out of my life? I glance at my clock and see it’s nearly three in the afternoon. Shit. I hadn’t meant to or expected to sleep this late.
My thoughts go back to the night before. That fucking text. After I’d calmed down, I’d tossed the phone out in the hallway hoping that she’d come back looking for it and think she’d dropped it. Either that or someone would hand it in to reception. Either way, I didn’t want her knowing yet that I knew. Not till I got my mind around it.
My phone rings. Sighing, I reach for it and press answer.
“What?” I growl, my voice raspy from just waking up.
“Where the fuck are you?” Max asks. “You were supposed to be here for this interview fifteen minutes ago.”
Fuck. The Rolling Stone interview. How could I have forgotten?
“I’m on my way,” I mutter, dragging my ass into a pair of jeans. “Stall them for me, will you? Is Lyndall there?”
“Yep, and she’s annoyed.”
Great. Just what I need.
I have no idea what Max said to keep them from freaking out, but the interview goes smoothly, even with me showing up nearly an hour late. Lyndall stares daggers at me as we walk out of the conference room.
“What?” I mutter. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Barely,” she hisses. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to secure this interview?”
“And as I said, I’m here, aren’t I?” I rub my messy hair, which I now realize I forgot to brush. “Besides, this is what you wanted, isn’t it? A bad, self-absorbed poster boy that the media can go crazy over? That’s what sells records, right?”
“Where is all this co
ming from?” she asks, her shoulders sinking forward.
For a moment, the genuine look of concern in her eyes has me, but then I remember the text message. I stalk off, not bothering to answer her question. Max and the other guys have left, and I get the feeling that they’re annoyed at me too.
Fuck them all. I am this band. Without me, they’d be nothing. The fans, the screaming chicks, they’re all there for me and a huge part of that is the “I couldn’t give a fuck” attitude. If they don’t appreciate me, then fuck them if they think I’m going to kiss their ass and apologize.
Anger courses through my veins as I storm back in the direction of the hotel. It’s a fifteen-minute walk, and by the time I arrive, I’m feeling much calmer. Why can’t I shake this mood? A voice in the back of my head tells me what I already know: I need to watch myself, because I’m on the verge of breaking.
Up in my room, I fall onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. My heart is pounding so fast I can’t even track the number of beats. Too many. After a knock on the door, I hear Lyndall’s muffled voice.
“Sax?” she asks.
I sigh, but get to my feet to let her in. I walk back over to the bed and sit down, staring at her, waiting for her to speak.
“What the hell is with you?”
“Nothing,” I mutter. I’m so close to confronting her about the text, but truth be told I feel like a fucking fool. I thought we had something, but all of it was just a show to make herself look good for her career.
“It’s not nothing,” she says, her voice firm as she steps closer to me. She nudges my legs apart and lifts my face until our eyes meet. “I thought we were closer than this. What’s with all this bullshit?”
All I wanna do is make her feel used.
Standing up, I cup her face in my hands and drag my lips across hers, roughly kissing her. She lets out a whimper but relents to my quest for control. I steer her back toward the bed and throw her down, nudging her legs apart.
“Take off your shirt,” I order as I undo my pants. I slip out of them and my boxers, and lift my t-shirt over my head. She obliges, unbuttoning her cream colored shirt and tossing it beside her on the bed.
I lean forward and curve my hand behind her neck, bring her up into a sitting position. I yank open the back of her skirt and shimmy it down her bare thighs. My cock twitches. She’s not even wearing underwear. My lips lock on hers roughly before I push her back on the bed, this time with me on top of her.
I lock both her hands in mine and lift them above her head, using my free hand to explore her body. She gasps as I massage her breasts as my mouth closes in on her neck.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” I murmur, as I roll on a condom. She does as I ask, and without warning, I’m inside her. She cries out, her eyes glistening with tears. For a brief second I’m worried I’m hurting her, but then I remember why I’m so pissed.
She lied to me. She used me. This is about me getting what I want without caring about her needs. I force myself to focus and finish the job I’ve started.
I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at her as I push myself inside and out of her. My release comes thick and fast. I groan as I explode, my body aching from the rush. As soon as I’m done, I pull out and begin to dress.
“What’s wrong?” Lyndall asks. She sits forward, grabbing the sheet to wrap around her body, her usual bright eyes full of confusion. “Where are you going?”
I do up the last of the buttons on my shirt and stalk to the door, not bothering to answer her. Hell, I don’t even look at her as I slam the door closed.
Hopefully she’ll take the hint and be gone when I get back.
****
As I take what is now my usual seat down at the bar, my phone rings. I poise my finger over the ignore button, expecting it to be Lyndall. It’s Stace.
“What the fuck are you doing, Sax? You’re all over the magazines, they’re saying you’re a sex addict. They have photo’s to prove it!”
“I’m okay, Stace. I promise. It’s not as bad as it looks.” I rub my head, wishing there was a way out of all this. “I’ll be home soon and you can see for yourself.”
“I gotta stop reading the gossip mags,” she says, attempting a joke.
I chuckle. “I’ve been telling you that for years. I gotta go, but I love you, okay?”
“Okay,” she sighs. “Love you too.”
Nodding at the barman, I down my glass as he pours me my next. I’ve lost count of how much I’ve drunk—enough to dull some of the pain. My phone vibrates again. Another text from Lyndall. I press delete without reading it, just like I did with the thirty messages before it.
Take a fucking hint.
I keep drinking until the barman cuts me off. Angry at being treated like a child, I stagger to my feet and make my way to the door, somehow managing to stay upright.
There has to be another bar in this shithole that will serve me.
Groaning, I roll over. For a second I wonder if I’m dead, because every fucking muscle hurts. I ache in places I never knew I could ache. The soft rippling of water hits my ears. I tentatively move my fingers back and forth through what feels and sounds like water. Cracking my eyes open, I stare at the sun shining down from above me.
Not again.
I struggle to sit up, trying to ignore the sound of the Japanese tourists standing to my right, snapping pictures of me. I glance down and see why. I’m a grown ass dude who was passed out half naked in a fucking water fountain.
God knows how I didn’t drown myself.
Sighing, I shiver as I exit the water wearing only my jeans. At least I’m not naked. Though I wonder how long before those shots are on the front page of the newspapers.
Guilt rushes through me. I promised Stace I was okay. If she sees these photos, she’ll be over here looking for me. Not that I blame her. If it were the other way around, I’d have dragged her ass back home weeks ago.
I can’t deny it any longer: I’m a fucking mess.
****
As I wait to board my plane, I take a look at the magazines, something I never usually do. The most recent edition released today. There on the cover is a full color photo of Lyndall and I. Not that you can recognize her. Me, other the other hand, there’s no denying it.
Angry, I toss the magazine back on the stand and storm out of the small shop. All this has done is confirm what I already knew. I need to get away for a few days. I need a break.
And I hope like hell heading home will give me that.
Chapter Ten
“You’re home,” Stace squeals as I walk through the door.
I laugh as she throws her arms around me. Letting go of my bags, I hug her hard. I’m glad I decided not to tell her I was coming, because the look on her face is priceless.
“Good to see you too,” I say, pushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. I look her up and down suspiciously.
She sees my expression and her face reddens.
“You wouldn’t happen to be sneaking out tonight, would you?”
“Just to a party that Dad refuses to let me go to,” she groans. “I had no idea you were coming home, and Eva is already on her way here…”
“Go out and have fun,” I order her. “We’ll catch up tomorrow, okay?”
“Are you sure?” she asks, her eyes wide.
“Get out of here before you get caught,” I chuckle.
She gives me another hug and then sprints out the door.
Picking up my bags, I wander upstairs and throw them on the bed. The door to my parents’ room is open a crack and I can hear them arguing. About what I don’t know. Not interested enough to care, I head back downstairs and pour myself a drink, choosing an aged whiskey from my father’s bar.
“I’ve told you before, don’t touch my alcohol.”
I turn around, glass in hand. My eyes locked on his, I take the glass to my lips and drink. He shakes his head and mutters something under his breath.
“Why are you even back her
e? Shouldn’t you be planning for your next big show?” He smirks. “Or maybe your next disaster? The media keep saying you’re a mess. Maybe they’re right.”
“You’ve been saying it all along, right Dad?” I say, taking another sip.
“If the shoe fits,” Dad mutters. “Honestly, I don’t even know why you live here anymore. All you do is antagonize everyone. You being here stresses everyone out. You drive your mother to drink—”
“I drive her to drink?” I laugh. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. And you know what? I have no fucking idea why I’m still here. The only person in this family worth communicating with is Stace.”
Storming past him, I grab my keys and open the door, slamming it shut behind me. I head over to my car, pressing the unlock button and jump in the drivers seat. That’s it. I’m moving out. I can’t handle living under that roof anymore.
I head to the only place I know that will calm me down. A little bar on Main St where I know I’ll go unnoticed. Pulling into the parking lot, I turn off the ignition and get out.
Inside, it’s pretty empty. I walk over to the bar and take a seat, ordering a double whiskey, no ice. I slam it down and order another. Then another. The burning in my throat eases some of my pain, but not enough to erase it all. No amount of alcohol in the world could do that. Is this why Mom drinks? To forget her life? We’re so similar in some ways, yet so different in others. I hate her for not being able to stand up against Dad.
My phone rings. It’s Stace.
“Hey,” I say, rubbing my head.
“I need a huge favor, Sax. My ride left without me, and now Kara and I have no way of getting home. If Dad finds out I snuck out he’ll kill me.”
“You need me to pick you up?” I hesitate before continuing. “I can’t, Stace. I’ve been drinking.”
“Please, Sax, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate,” she begs.
I sigh. “Okay, fine. Text me where you are and be ready, okay?”
The girls are right where they promised to be. I pull into a park and wait for them to jump in. Before I take off, I check around me for cops. When I’m sure I’m safe, I use the back roads to head home.
Wicked Indulgence: A Wicked Innocence Novella Page 5
