“Why?”
“Because I’m going to fuck you on every inch of it.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Libby
I’m staring straight at the first man who broke my heart. He looks different, but there’s no mistaking it’s him, and the way he’s glaring at me only confirms it. His upper lip is snarled as he wipes the sweat from it with his arm, and his eyes are narrow in on me like he’s ready to attack.
My stomach sinks when I watch him bring himself up from the stage and head in my direction. I turn around, my feet moving quickly, and rush towards the first exit I find. I push open the door and catch my breath when I make it outside.
Unfortunately, I stupidly chose the door that leads to a back alley.
I whip around at the sound of the door slamming shut and come face to face with him.
“Why are you here?” he hisses. “Are you following me to fuck up my life more?”
I bitterly let out a snort. “Don’t flatter yourself, Adam. I’m definitely not here for you. I’m Knox Rivers’ assistant.”
Any attraction I had for him years ago is gone. The arms I used to love around me are now chubby with the same vibrant tattoos that covered them before. He promised to get my name tattooed on one when I turned eighteen. I laugh to myself at how naïve I was. His hair is longer, a bit on the greasy side. There’s no way he has girls begging to suck his cock like he did years ago. Those days of being the hot rock star are over.
“You’re his assistant?” He snorts when I nod. “Assistant or fuck buddy? Because I could’ve sworn I saw his hands on your ass and your mouth on his earlier.”
I cross my arms and take a few steps away from him. “That’s none of your business. Why do you even care why I’m here?”
“I care because I fucking despise you.”
The nerve of this man. “You despise me? I think we can both agree it should be the other way around.”
“I didn’t ruin your entire fucking life.” I raise a brow. Do what? “Don’t act like you don’t know.” I continue to stare, not answering him. After the incident, my father and I never brought him up again. It was like it never happened. “My band’s reputation was destroyed by your piece of shit dad. He told anyone that would listen that I was a pervert who put his hands on teenage girls and couldn’t be trusted. Do you know what that does to a man? My band kicked me out. I lost everything, all because of you.”
“You lost it all because of me? Last time I checked I didn’t force you to take my virginity. You willingly fucked with my head, acted like I meant something to you, but in the end, you were only using me.”
“It wasn’t an act. I did like you.”
“And you also liked the whore you were fucking in the bathroom, so I don’t feel very special.”
“I was drunk, high, and horny. She was there, rubbing all over my dick, what was I supposed to do?”
“Say no? Walk away?” I’m pissed at myself at the feel of tears pricking my eyes. I thought I was over this asshole. I stopped thinking about him years ago, but I guess there’s always a little place in your heart put away for the first person you loved.
“So what, now you’re back screwing another guy on tour? Must be your thing, huh? I hope for his sake that you don’t ruin his career too.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I yell. I don’t need to deal with this shit. I give him one last look of disgust before making my way towards the door.
He lets out a sinister laugh. “You already have, sweetheart, and let’s just say I loved popping that sweet cherry.”
I can’t stop myself. I spin around, and the next thing I know, my fist is connecting with his face. I can feel the pain shooting straight to my knuckles. I’ve never punched anyone before.
“What the fuck, bitch?” he screams, his hand immediately flying down to stop the blood that’s gushing from his lip.
I start to retreat backward, realizing what a stupid decision that was. I’m alone with this dude in an alley. He can kill me, for fuck’s sake.
I jump when the door bursts open and suddenly George is at my side. “Libby,” he says, looking from me to Adam. “What the hell is going on here?” I gulp, not exactly sure how to explain the situation. He plucks his phone from his pocket without bothering to hear my explanation. “Meet me at Exit B. We have a situation.”
I wave my hand in front of George’s face and mouth, “Don’t call him!” Adam is moaning in the background, insults still hurling from his swollen lip, but I know he won’t do anything with George by my side. He’d be an idiot. George is at least six five with muscles that are bigger than anything I’ve ever seen and used to be a champion heavy weight body builder.
“You better shut your mouth, asshole,” George warns him. “She might pack a good punch, but mine are much more destructive. I can promise you that.”
Adam points to me. “I want her kicked off the premises and a police report filed. It’s your turn to have your life destroyed.”
My pulse skyrockets. I never thought about the actual consequences I’d have of nailing him in the face. If he calls the cops, I’ll most likely be fired and back on the news.
The door flies open, and Knox appears, out of breath. He looks at me, then George, then to a bloody Adam. He does it again, waiting for someone to give him some answers.
I nod towards Adam. “He’s an asshole, so I punched him in the face.”
“And I want to press charges,” Adam yells.
“You sound like a little bitch,” George tells him.
Knox is working his jaw. “And why exactly did you punch him in the face, Libby?”
“He was being an asshole.”
“She punched me because I told her how much I enjoyed popping her precious little cherry,” Adam yells, holding back the pain to throw Knox a taunting smile. “But she might’ve enjoyed it more.”
Knox gets to him before I even realize what’s happening. Adam grunts at Knox’s first punch and then cries out at the second one.
“Fuck,” George says, rushing over to them. He grabs Knox around the waist to pull him away. My stomach sinks when we he lets go of Knox to point to a guy who’s holding a camera in between a hole in the fence. “Motherfucker, give me that thing.”
“We’re all fucked,” I mutter to myself.
“Get him. I’ll stay with her,” Knox tells George.
He nods, and the guy takes off running. I watch George jump the fence to go after him.
“This is going to be bad,” I say to Knox.
“I don’t give a shit,” he replies, and then glares over at Adam. “You say one more thing or even look at her again, I’ll beat the shit out of you, do you hear me?”
Adam holds up his arms in surrender and swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, capturing some blood. “It’s your career, not mine, man.”
“Unlike you, I’ll always choose her over my career and any groupie hoe,” Knox replies.
I stumble forward when he grabs my hand and walks me back into the building. He keeps his hold on my hips and turns me around to face him, backing me up against the wall.
“You okay?” he asks, sweeping my sweaty hair away from my eyes.
“I’m alright,” I whisper.
“You swear?”
“I swear.”
His hand traces my jawline, and he lets out a deep breath. “God, I wanted to kill that fucker. It tortures me to hear him talking about putting his hands on you … having you … you loving him. I hate that Libby. I hate that you gave more to him than you have me.”
“That’s not true. I was a stupid teenage girl. I didn’t give him anything, I promise.”
His lips meet mine, sweet and soft. “Do me a favor,” he says against them. “Let’s not say anything to Thomas about this yet. Put your phone away and enjoy my show.”
“Got it.”
He’s not the only one who wants to avoid a conversation with Thomas right now.
We both jump when the door swings open, sunlight beamin
g down the hallway, and George appears.
“The mother fucker got away,” he says, out of breath. “I tried to catch him, I swear, but he had a getaway vehicle. I may be fast, but not as fast as a BMW 750.”
Knox pulls away from me to look at George. “It’s okay, man. Thanks for trying and always having my back.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Knox
I’m nervous as hell.
My lungs are knocking against my chest while I walk to the middle of the stage taking slow, deep breaths. This isn’t how I typically start my shows. I usually have this kick-ass intro with lights and videos, but tonight I’m doing something different. It has to be done, even though I’ll probably pay for it later.
The cheers from the crowd suffocate my thoughts as I grab the microphone from the stand. I gulp before holding it up to my mouth.
“Hello Atlanta!” I scream. “How is everyone doing tonight?”
The audience screams louder. Their reaction is my favorite part about being on stage, seeing the excitement on their faces. I fucking love my fans.
I pause, waiting for them to settle down before going on and possibly creating career suicide. All eyes are on me as they wait for my next move.
“I’m sure many of you will find out about something that happened today, but I wanted to be the first to tell you and give you my side of the story. About an hour ago, I punched a guy.” I hold up my swollen fist. “Battle wound.” The camera phones rise in the air, and I know I’m about to start live streaming on thousands of social networks. “The media will most likely report that I have anger issues, or that I’m out of control, but that’s not why I did it. I did it because I have a problem with men who disrespect women, especially women that I care about.” Mouths drop. More phones go up in the air. “If you care about a woman and someone does something terrible to her, defend her, and that’s what I did. So to all of my fellas out there, let your girl know she’s appreciated.”
The audience roars with cheers. If the guy recording us exposes me, I know my fans will still have my back.
Will the media twist the entire story? Probably.
Is it going to be breaking news? Most likely.
But right now, I don’t give a shit. I’m ready to perform and then hang out with my woman.
I hold the microphone back to my mouth. “Now that’s done, let’s get this show started!”
“How many do you have?” I ask Libby when I get back to my dressing room when the show ends.
I rip my sweat-covered shirt from my body and throw it down onto the floor. It’s burning up in here. She grabs a towel, places it under cold water, and starts to run it down my neck. My mouth falls open as I let out a moan.
“I’ve been afraid to look,” she answers, helping me cool off before grabbing her phone. “Fifteen from Thomas. Two from your mom.”
“Time to see mine.” I punch in the code to the room safe and pull out my phone. My stomach rolls while I scroll through all of the missed calls and text messages. “I win. I have eighteen from Thomas and twenty from my mom. That’s not counting their texts, either.”
She falls down in a chair and runs a jerky hand through her straight hair. “They’re probably on a flight right now to murder us.”
I chuckle. “Doubt it. If I’m dead, they get no bread.”
“True, so they’re on the way to kill me then.” She draws in a deep breath before slowly releasing it. “Thank you, by the way, for that.” A light flush crosses her cheeks.
I grab her hand, and she allows me to lift her up from the chair. “Babe, you don’t have to thank me for standing up for you. As your man, that’s my job. I support you, care about you, and will always defend you.” I run my lips up her neck until I hit the soft skin of her ear. “Although you do pack quite the punch, Rocky Balboa.” I laugh and can feel her chest moving against mine. “You did some damage to that asshole.”
She’s smiling from ear to ear when I pull away.
Mission accomplished.
“He did deserve it.”
“Damn straight he did.”
She jumps at the sound of my phone going off.
I look down at her. “Should we answer it?” She bites the edge of her lip, shaking her head. I laugh. “Let’s make ‘em suffer.”
“How about we make them suffer, and I make you feel good?”
“Mmmm … I always love your bright ideas, sunshine.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Libby
“Do you think people will assume you’re only here because of what happened last night?” I ask Knox.
We’re in the backseat of anther rented SUV, and George is behind the steering wheel. Knox looks out the window as we turn into the private entrance of the children’s hospital. This visit has been on Knox’s schedule since the very beginning, but I’m well aware of how the media twists shit. They’ll make it look like it’s a last minute storyline to take the heat away from him punching Adam.
“Probably,” he deadpans.
“That’s sad.”
“The word can be a sad place, and if that’s the kind of person people want to think I am, let ‘em fucking believe that. I’m done caring.”
There’s no missing his frustration. We had a long ass night with phones going off non-stop. Knox ended up deactivating his social media accounts temporarily because of the backlash he’s been getting. His fans might support him, but those who aren’t are making him out to be some hotheaded criminal.
Guilt crashes through me. I’m the one to blame for the entire situation, and not one video was posted of me hitting him. Adam is giving interviews right and left, trying to get in his twenty minutes of fame and look like the good guy, at Knox’s expense.
“Maybe I should make a statement and tell them the truth,” I say. “I’m the one at fault for what happened. Not you.”
He snakes his hand out and captures mine. “I’m not letting them go after you. This bullshit will blow over in a few weeks, and that dude will go back to being some nameless asshole.” He lifts our hands and presses his lips to mine.
God, how did I manage to get someone this perfect? Someone who gives me this sense of security but makes me feel like I’m free at the same time.
There’s no doubt he was being honest about Stella. He’s protecting me like he did her. He’d rather put his ass on the line than see me get hurt.
“You’re amazing, do you know that?” I ask, leaning forward to give him a kiss.
“You’re the only person I need to hear that from,” he replies.
“You two lovebirds ready?” George asks. “Or do you want to keep making out back there?”
I push his shoulder, laughing. “Yes, we’re ready.”
We get out, and a dark-haired man dressed in scrubs is waiting for us at the entrance. George opens the hatchback, and Knox helps him unload the gift bags we made last night. After the show, we raided the merchandise trailer and sent George toy shopping.
George drags out the red wagon stuffed in the back, and we load the gift bags onto it. Knox grabs the handle and pulls it to the door while George takes Knox’s guitar and swings the strap over his shoulder.
The man extends his hand out to shake Knox’s. “Thank you for coming. The children have been buzzing with excitement all morning,” he says. “I’m Matthew.”
“That makes two of us,” Knox tells him before introducing George and me.
Matthew punches in an access code, and we follow him through the door. Crayon colored artwork and pictures of cancer survivors line the hallway walls. I’ll be reading every single one of those on our way back.
Matthew leads us into a room that’s filled with kids, parents, and staff. Pain grips at my heart, squeezing it roughly, when I see the children – some underweight, some with IVs connected to their bodies, some with pale complexions, some with no hair.
Cancer doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care what age, sex, or race you are. It only sweeps through your life like a hurric
ane while you’re trying your hardest to hold onto the life raft you’ve been given.
Fuck you, cancer.
My mood lifts, though, as I watch the children’s eyes light up when they see Knox. I stand behind him, clutching the handle of the wagon, and this might be one of my best experiences on this tour.
“Who are all of these rock stars in here?” Knox asks.
The frustration he had in the car has evaporated, and there is nothing but excitement in his voice now. It’s not forced or fake. A fresh energy has burst through him. The smile on his face as he walks through the room is so damn genuine I want to throw my arms around him, shower him with kisses, and whisper how phenomenal he is.
“I know you guys didn’t get the chance to make it to my concert last night,” he goes on. “So I thought I’d bring the show to you.”
Everyone cheers in response, some clapping their hands, as bright smiles take over their faces. Knox grabs his guitar from George and takes a seat in the chair at the front of the room.
I stand to the side, resting my back against the wall, and watch as he starts to play. I’m taken into another world while listening to the children sing along with his every word.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It’s the most angelic sound I’ve ever heard. Tears prick at my eyes as I pull out my phone and start to record them. This will keep me going on my worst days. Whenever I think I’m going through something rough, I will pull this out as a reminder of how incredibly lucky I am.
They sing four songs together. The children that can get up start dancing while others sway to the melody. The cheers erupt again when Knox finishes.
“Wow, I think you sound better than I do,” he tells them. They giggle in delight. He slides his guitar off and sets it down. “I also brought you some goodies.”
That’s my cue.
Everyone’s eyes go to me when I wheel the wagon over to him, trying to control my sniffles.
A tiny girl with glasses points her finger at me. “Is that your girlfriend?”
Make Me Yours Page 42
