Good Lies (A Wild Minds Novel)

by Charlotte West

  I marched to the curtain. Warren moved to block my way. He was pissed all right. “Let me pass, Warren,” I said through my teeth.

  His features were hard, carved out of granite. He could be just as stubborn as me. We faced off. Memories assaulted my mind. Memories of Rome, of a party, of a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear.

  My stomach hurt. I felt sick.

  I stumbled through the crowded villa trying to find Warren. I wanted him to take me back to the hotel. Lily was already there, weeping and drinking wine. She and Ash had fought earlier. She was threatening to go home. I sort of wanted to go home too. My stomach had been aching for days. “Just a case of bad food poisoning,” Warren had said.

  I found the room Warren was supposed be in. Third door on the left, Lix had told me. The door was partially open. I could just see Warren sitting on a plush couch. The lighting was low. A drummer and singer from another band on the tour were there. And of course, there were girls too. Always girls.

  “Addy’s such a hot piece,” the drummer said.

  Warren took a long drag of a joint, nodding.

  “Ash said you wife’d her. Never thought I’d see the day Warren Price was off the market,” the singer said.

  A steady stream of smoke blew out of Warren’s mouth. He spoke, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “What can I say?” I smiled, ready to go in. But then he kept talking, putting his huge foot in his huge mouth. “She worships me, you know. Can’t get enough of me.” I rolled my eyes. I used to think his cockiness was endearing. “And fuck, her old man is loaded. Someday he’ll die and all that money will be ours.”

  My grin faded. Since Warren had been booted from the U.S. leg of his debut tour, he’d been reduced to touring smaller venues. Billy’s tantrum had set Wild Minds back a few years. The band had gained popularity in Europe courtesy of opening for Miss Americana, a popular band. They were making a name for themselves again, but weren’t well-off by any means.

  “Yeah, Billy Wanks has a shit-ton of money,” the drummer said, accepting the joint from Warren. “But word is, he hates you. I bet you don’t see a dime.”

  Warren shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s enough to piss him off. Motherfucker had us booted from his tour. It took us years to come back. It’s going to be sweet when he finds out I’ve defiled his little girl. I can’t wait to watch his head explode when she calls me her husband.”

  A girl got up on the table, dressed in a miniskirt and just her bra. She started to sway seductively. Warren leaned back on the couch, watching the girl dip down and back up through half-lidded eyes.

  I didn’t wait to hear anymore. Tears blurred my vision as I pushed through the crowd. I kept it together until I got back to the hotel. Then I sobbed into Lily’s arms. We booked tickets home that night. And I ran as far from Warren as I could.

  Then I’d gone to the hospital and things had gotten worse.

  “We need to talk.” Warren’s dry, gruff voice summoned me back to the present.

  “We have nothing to talk about.” I kept my gaze focused on the curtain. The memory brought back my humiliation and anger full force. It was loud on the other side. Girls giggled. Someone strummed a guitar. A lighter flicked.

  Gentle fingers grasped my chin and forced my gaze up to his. His eyes had softened minutely. They were blue. The palest blue, like the center of an iceberg. “We’re still married.”

  We were. But that was something that could be rectified immediately. Breaking from Warren’s hold, I bent and yanked the divorce papers from my backpack. Turning back to him, I slapped the papers against his chest. He didn’t move to take them. “Sign on the dotted line and we won’t be.”

  “We need to talk.” He was starting to sound like a broken record. Typical Warren, it didn’t matter what I wanted. It only mattered what he wanted. Selfish prick. I thumped the papers against his chest again. But he refused to accept them. Letting out a frustrated little squeal, I threw the papers at his feet.

  “We aren’t talking.” If I could help it, we would never speak again. “Sign the papers, Warren. Don’t worry, since we didn’t have a pre-nup, you’ll get half of my trust.” It hurt saying it aloud. I’d been used as a pawn for money and revenge against my father. I’d vowed to myself never again. It was why I hadn’t made very many friends in college, why I clung to Gabe and Lily—because my own husband, the one who had promised to love, protect and cherish me, had betrayed me. Once burned, twice shy and all that.

  Confusion marred Warren’s beautiful face. “Wh—”

  “HEY, BILLY!” Lix shouted in the front.

  I took advantage of the distraction. I ducked past Warren and into the main cabin. Billy stood up by the door, Lix in front of him, blocking his view of the bus. It was pretty ineffective, given that Billy was a good head taller than Lix.

  “Hey, Felix. I’m looking for Addy. Trent said she was here but she’s not on our bus.”

  He hadn’t seen me yet. I breathed in, tried to compose myself. It didn’t work. I was shaking and tears were overflowing. So I did the thing a girl was supposed to do when her heart had been broken by a dirty rock star, the thing I should’ve done before—I ran to my father. “Billy,” I cried. Billy stepped around Lix, a blinding smile lighting his face.

  “Little bird!” He opened his arms.

  I grinned too. It’s amazing how one can smile through pain. Leaning into Billy’s hug, I let the weight of my despair lift. When we drew apart, he kept his arm slung around me and guided me off the bus, unaware of Wild Minds and their scowling lead singer in the back.

  “What’d he do next?” I asked on a laugh. I sat on Wanks and Janks’ bus, safely ensconced on a soft, black velvet couch between Jett and Turner. Daisy and Billy were across from me. Chord, the bassist, had gone off to bed after hugging me and saying, “Good to have you home.” It was late, well past two o’clock in the morning, and the band plus Daisy were catching me up on their most recent antics.

  “Oh, you know your father,” Daisy said, sipping her tea. “He had a fit, of course. He threatened to fire all of the roadies.” Trent had thought it would be funny to replace some of Billy’s guitar strings with fishing line. The line snapped as soon as Billy began to play. Pranks on the road were common. With long, boring stretches of highway in between venues, the band had to find ways to amuse themselves.

  “Bloody Trent. I should’ve sacked him years ago,” Billy threatened, but there wasn’t any heat behind it.

  I shifted in my seat. The bus was warm, and the couple of beers I’d had were making me even warmer. I peeled off my sweatshirt.

  “What the hell?” Billy said.

  “What?” I asked, checking my tee for stains. Had I missed something? Ever so discreetly, I sniffed under my armpits. Not as fresh as a daisy, but I’d pass.

  “What the hell is that?” Billy pointed to the spot where my neck met my collarbone. Almost the exact place Warren had been sucking on earlier. Suddenly, I felt very hot and uncomfortable. My fingers went to the soft skin.

  “Oh, dear, Addison, I think you should take a peek in the mirror,” said Daisy.

  Jett turned his head. “Oh, shit, dove. You’ve got a love bite.”

  “A what?” I asked.

  “A hickey,” he said.

  “Let me see.” Turner moved half off his seat. He whistled low. “It looks like someone took a hoover to your neck.” He made a vacuum-like noise, settling back in his armchair.

  Warren had marked me. That bastard. Definitely should’ve gone for the balls.

  Daisy stood. “I think I have some makeup that will cover it.” She disappeared into the bunks.

  Billy picked at the label on his beer bottle and glared bullets at me. I squirmed under his scrutiny. “It’s not what you think,” I said.

  He cocked an eyebrow. It was a move I knew well from my childhood. His silence was an interrogation tactic. The less he said, the more I talked. “It’s a hickey.” I’m not sure why I felt compelled to restate the obvi
ous. Turner and Jett suddenly found something interesting in their laps. “But it’s from my boyfriend.” You could hear a pin drop. I just kept talking, words and lies spilling from my mouth. I pasted on an overly bright smile. “You know Gabe, right?”

  Billy visibly relaxed. “Thank God, little bird. I thought maybe you and Warren were up to your old tricks.” I chewed my lip. Maybe I’d been harboring some secret hope that Billy had moved past his grudge against Warren. But it seemed the two were still at odds. Billy took a swig of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You should invite Gabe on the tour. Or better yet, we’ll be in Portland in a few weeks. You’ll ask him to dinner. His parents can come. We’ll have a big family meal.”

  I stifled a groan. A big family meal usually included all of the band members and their spouses or dates. Most of the time, it meant shutting down a restaurant. And more often than not, we were kicked out for rowdy behavior.

  The last time had been the day after Billy’s thirty-ninth birthday in Vegas. After a few drinks, Jett decided to rediscover his Greek roots (which I hadn’t even known existed) and started smashing plates and glasses. Everyone joined in. The only problem was, we were at an Italian place, a really, really expensive restaurant in the middle of a five-diamond hotel. We were invited to leave and never come back. I thought of Gabe, Pete and gentle Mel in the middle of the fracas. Screwed. I was so screwed.

  Daisy came back to the front, overflowing makeup bag in her arms. “What’d I miss?”

  “Addy’s got herself a beau,” Turner answered.

  “He gave her a hickey,” Jett explained.

  “Oh, are we happy about that?” Daisy’s gaze bounced back and forth between Billy and me. I wondered if she could see the fine sheen of sweat on my hairline.

  “I ain’t going to go berserk, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Billy said.

  Daisy nodded. I didn’t know how she dealt so well with my father. Maybe it was because she didn’t try to manage him too much. She let Billy be himself. She was patient and kind, a real Mother Teresa type, but without the pesky chastity vow. “That’s what I was worried about. C’mon, let’s see if I can cover that up.”

  I let Daisy take me to the bathroom, where she managed to work wonders on the purplish mark left by Warren. I slipped into my pajamas. Earlier Billy had sent Trent to fetch my bags from the Wild Minds bus. By the time I climbed into my bunk, my eyes were heavy with sleep. Jett was watching a DVD in the bunk above me. He had headphones in, but the picture cast my bunk in low blue and red lights. I drifted off to sleep. I dreamt of Warren, of one of my happiest memories.

  We were in Ibiza, Spain, on a break from the rigorous tour. The band was tired, worn out, and so were Lily and I. We’d been all over Europe the last few months, staying in shitty hotels, the band performing in only slightly better venues. So we decided to rest and recoup on white sand beaches with crystal-clear blue water.

  The band splurged on a hotel they couldn’t afford. It was our first night there. I’d snuck away from the group to call Billy. I’d intentionally kept our conversation short. Billy thought I was in New York, busy with school. Trying to balance my father and Warren’s needs was growing exhausting. They both required a large amount of time and attention. Luckily for me, Daisy was around to distract my father.

  I spied Warren’s broad back. The band had bellied up to the bar. “Shot! Shots! Shots!” they cried.

  As I approached, Warren grabbed my wrist, licked it, sprinkled salt on it, took a shot and then licked it again.

  “Where you been?” He held me close. The bar was playing a love ballad and Warren moved slowly against me, his hips sliding suggestively against my core. I shivered and felt heat pool in my belly. He nuzzled my neck.

  “I… I had to call Billy.”

  “How is the cranky bastard?” A few weeks later, Warren would be all over me about calling Billy. He’d be the cranky one, demanding I tell my father about us. But this was before, before we were married, before I overheard Warren in a back room with a greasy drummer discussing how much he hated my father. Tonight, Warren was in good humor.

  I leaned up and kissed his scruffy chin. “He’s good. He wants me to come home in a month and visit him for a while.”

  He gave me a snotty look. “Never. I need you with me too much.”

  “It would be only for a bit.”

  “I won’t hear it. I forbid it. I forbid you to leave me. Ever,” he teased, but there was an underlying note of seriousness to his words.

  Just past Lix and Derren, Ash and Lily were making out. They were so fused together I couldn’t tell where their bodies started and stopped. Warren detached from me. “Attention, fucktards!” he yelled, holding up a refilled shot glass. “I have an announcement to make.” Ash and Lily came up for air. The crowd quieted. Warren climbed onto a barstool and then the bar. “C’mon up here, baby.”

  “Warren, no,” I hissed.

  “Addy, ass up here. Now.”

  Reluctantly I took his hand and joined him on the bar. A sea of faces regarded us curiously.

  “I fucking love you, Addison Wanks. And I want you to be mine forever.” He got down on one knee. “Marry me, baby.”

  My heart stopped. He couldn’t be serious. He was. His eyes swam with sincerity and love. Always love from Warren. Or so I thought.

  “What?” My voice was small, unsure. I found Lily below me, her eyes big, wide and questioning, almost concerned. Ash was behind her, smiling from ear to ear. I settled back on Lily, something lodged in my throat. Fear. I thought of Billy in that moment, how upset he would be. He might never speak to me again.

  Warren’s voice lowered to a husk so the throng couldn’t hear. “I don’t have much, Addy. And God knows your father hates me. But what I do have I’ll give to you. Someday I’ll buy you the biggest fucking ring imaginable. Say yes, baby. Please, say yes.” He waited and it seemed as if everyone was holding a collective breath. My mind raced. Even if Billy never spoke to me again, I would always have Warren. All my childhood anxiety, questioning if I’d be abandoned again, Warren was the answer. With him, I would never be alone. I would never be afraid. His broad shoulders would carry me. Plus I loved his arrogant ass. Madly. Deeply. The decision was made.

  “Okay,” I said and then cried, “Yes!”

  Warren stood and swung me up in his arms. He kissed the breath out of me. And everything felt right in the world, as if every single moment I had lived was leading me to this one.

  Warren didn’t want to wait to get married.

  I didn’t either.

  Ash got online in the hotel’s business center and ordained himself. Lily helped me find a white sundress that was scalloped at the neck and hemline. She wove hibiscus flowers through my hair.

  Ash officiated. Lily was my bridesmaid, Lix and Derren served as Warren’s best men. We said our vows on the white sand beach at sunset the next day, exchanging simple gold bands we’d found in the local market a few hours ago.

  Later on, Warren and I walked the beach. He dragged me into the surf and laid me down. “Love you, Addy. Always.” His blue eyes shone bright. I thought it was with sincerity. But now, as I relived the memory, I saw the glint as smug satisfaction. Victory.

  Waves lapped over us, but the water was warm. The night was dark and we were away from the public.

  “Make love to me, War.” I stared at him, transfixed.

  “You’ll never have to ask me twice.” His lips crashed against me, his tongue slipping into my mouth, his legs between mine. The skirt of my dress bunched up around my hips. Warren’s hand rubbed against my underwear. “You’re wet for me. Aren’t you, baby?”

  “Hmm.” I couldn’t talk. I was only capable of the barest sound.

  “Let me hear you say it, Addy. Say you’re wet for me.” His fingers slipped under my panties, through my slick folds and inside me. I gasped. Using his other hand, he bared one of my breasts. His thumb brushed my nipple. My hands went into his hair, wanting t
o push his mouth to the sensitive tips.

  “Warren,” I begged.

  “Yes?” His fingers plunged, in and out.

  “I’m so wet for you.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said, voice ragged. I felt him smile against my mouth. His head dipped and he took a nipple into his mouth. At the same time, I heard the whir of a zipper. I tilted my hips, ready for his hand to be replaced by something bigger, thicker, harder. His fingers were gone and I was oddly bereft. But not for long. “I want to feel you come around me.”

  A pleasured sigh left my lips as I felt the pressure of his cock at my entrance. He dove shallow at first. I didn’t think it was possible to get wetter. But I did. I was frenzied with want. My legs tightened around his hips, drawing him closer, urging him deeper. He chuckled and thrust hard. I grunted a little at the fullness, Warren was big.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I kissed his shoulder. “More, please.”

  He chuckled, lips skimming my ear. “Promise you’ll never leave me.”

  “I promise.” It was the easiest thing to say, because I couldn’t imagine myself ever wanting to. Leaving Warren would be like ripping my heart out.

  He slammed into me. I gasped. Yes. “Promise me, Addy. No matter what, you’ll never leave me.” The words were warm in my ear. I was helpless to deny him anything.

  “No matter what,” I repeated.

  “Good girl. Now you get to come.” His pace increased and then his thumb was on my clit, rubbing gentle circles and then more firmly. My back bowed. He hammered into me. I saw stars. Literally, the sun had set and the sky was sprinkled with white dots, like sugar spilt on a black mat. I gasped, feeling a particularly wonderful sensation rise inside me. Warren paused in his thrusting and watched me as I came apart. He resumed his pace, let himself go deep inside me, coming with a deep grunt.