I glanced over to the bar to where Garrett was now schmoozing it up with a couple of girls I recognized from their honorary barfly status at Barton’s. “I think he’s over it,” I smirked, nodding his direction.
As if he could feel the weight of my stare, Garrett’s eyes met mine over the shoulder of the girl straddling his lap. I should have looked away. The whole thing was horribly embarrassing. But I voyeuristically watched as Garrett gripped her hips and ground the girl onto his groin.
My cheeks felt hot and I forced myself to look away. I swallowed thickly and turned back to Maysie who was watching me with a puzzled look on her face. I smiled thinly and wiped down the last table.
“I think you should come with me to the after party. It would do you good,” Maysie commented. I fell down into a chair beside my roommate. A refusal was on the tip of my tongue. I had a million and one instant excuses ready. I’m tired. I’ve got a killer headache. I have an early shift tomorrow.
But then I noticed Jaz and Damien talking in a corner. I knew body language and there was an uncomfortable amount of sexual awareness between the two. My heart hurt in my chest and I felt dangerously close to crying again.
Then I looked back at the bar and was startled to find Garrett still watching me. The girl who had been dry humping his crotch was gone and he was slowly nursing a beer. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink, his eyebrow cocking as he looked at me. He lowered the drink and an annoying smirk lifted his mouth.
Damn, I wanted to punch that smirk off his obnoxious mouth.
I straightened my back and got to my feet, picking up the rag from the table and bunching it in my clenched hand. “You know what, I think I will come,” I said firmly. Maysie blinked a few times in surprise.
“Wow, I was expecting to have to argue with you a bit more than that. What’s gotten into you?” she teased. I noticed Garrett, Jordan, and the other guys were starting to get ready for their set. This would have normally been my cue to run for the hills.
But not tonight.
Tonight I felt like being unpredictable.
I turned and grinned at Maysie. “I feel like being a bit of a bad girl,” I said and Maysie laughed.
“Riley Walker a bad girl? Now that I got to see.”
Well, just maybe she would.
An hour later I had changed into my favorite jeans and shirt that I had hand stitched myself. Yes, I, on occasion, liked to make my own clothes. And I didn’t care what anyone thought about it. I was proud of my pretty, patchwork shirt, and it made me feel good to wear it. It really was all about the small stuff at this point.
So here I was once again sat beside Maysie at the bar, trying not to stare at Damien and Jaz as they laughed in a booth five feet away. Generation Rejects were three songs in and the place was packed.
I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to grin and bear it. I wanted to go home but Mays insisted that I needed to make a point. Show the world that Riley Walker wasn’t down for the count.
“Total assholes. She’s off my Christmas card list,” Maysie yelled in my ear while I purposefully looked anywhere but in the direction of my ex-boyfriend. I grit my teeth, trying really hard not to give into the almost overwhelming urge to channel my inner Incredible Hulk and start flipping tables.
“Do you even have a Christmas card list?” I asked her. Maysie snorted.
“Well, no, but bitch wouldn’t be on it,” she muttered, finishing off her third Long Island Iced Tea. I saw the telltale signs of inebriation overtake her. Maysie was a drinker. A partier by nature. Miss Social Butterfly. Which was perfect for the lifestyle she now found herself in, being the card carrying girlfriend of one hot-astic drummer of the crazily popular Generation Rejects. But the truth was I just couldn’t keep up. When it came to boozing and doing it up crazy style, I was still on the first lap.
“I appreciate you going all vengeful she-beast, but it’s unnecessary. This girl can fight her own battles,” I assured her chugging my soda before slamming the glass down on the bar top. I grabbed my apron and order pad. “I think I’m going to head home. I’m exhausted,” I said, wanting nothing more than a hot bath and the huge bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups sitting in the pantry.
Maysie grabbed my upper arm and gave me a yank. For such a scrawny girl, she had some serious upper body strength. “Excuse me? Is there a reason you’re digging your nails into my flesh?” I pinched my lips together, trying not to get annoyed.
“You’re not going anywhere. You promised you’d come to Garrett’s with me. Don’t you dare puss out on me! What happened to unleashing your inner bad girl?” she asked, though she wisely loosened her grip.
“My inner bad girl is being punched in the throat by my inner sensible girl who has had about all she can stomach of this scene for one night,” I told her, handing my empty glass to Lyla.
“Heading home all ready, Riley? You are looking pretty washed out.” My shoulders stiffened and I saw Maysie’s lips purse together.
“And you’ve never been able to stop the stupid shit that comes out of your mouth, so I say we’re both having a crappy evening,” I snarled, giving Jaz my best say one more word and you die look. Jaz’s answering laugh was fake and slightly nervous and was akin to nails on a chalkboard. I was really tempted to tear her hair out. But flicking my eyes over to my traitorous ex who was watching our exchange somewhat anxiously, I knew without a doubt that the douch bag wasn’t worth a chick fight.
“Fuck off, Jaz,” Maysie piped in. Jaz’s eyes widened and I could see she was hurt by the curt tone in Maysie’s voice. Jaz and Maysie had always been friends. But what Miss Sloppy Seconds didn’t understand was my roommate’s loyalties ran deep where I was concerned. You mess with me, you mess with Maysie Ardin. We were a rag tag duo.
“I’m only worried about her, Mays. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Jaz backpedaled. I snorted and shook my head, letting Maysie know she didn’t need to jump into this particular fight. Because I was hanging up the gloves. Some things weren’t worth the hassle.
I turned in my stool, purposefully giving Jaz and Dumbass Damien my back. “I think I will come after all. Even if I’m looking a little washed out,” I said with a grin. Maysie smiled back.
“I guess I’ll see you guys later,” Jaz said but Maysie and I ignored her. She finally got the point and slinked back to the booth where Damien was watching. I didn’t even bother to look in his direction.
“Can I get another soda, Lyla?” I called out to the bartender over the deafening roar of Generation Rejects’ music. I sat through the remainder of the set and even made myself engage in some seat dancing. Woohoo! Riley Walker was cutting loose! Look out world!
I waited with Maysie while the guys broke down their equipment and basked in the fawning adulation of their fans. “I need to send Vivian and Gracie a text letting them know we’re heading over to the party,” Maysie said pulling out her phone.
“I thought Cole and Vivian broke up,” I commented, nodding my head in the lead singer’s direction as he squeezed a random girl’s ass. Vivian Bailey was Maysie’s former sorority sister. She had graduated in May and was taking a year off to “find herself,” whatever the hell that meant. In my opinion if you need to look, then perhaps you shouldn’t be found.
Vivian and Cole had some sort of friends with benefits situation. Except they weren’t ever friends and I was pretty sure Cole shared those “benefits” with most of the girls who came out to see their shows.
Whatever they had ended a couple of weeks ago in pure Vivian Bailey fashion. Meaning there was lots of screaming. Lots of drama. Lots of piss and vinegar spewed in the most public way possible. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how much of a voyeur into people’s lives you are), it happened to be right after the Rejects’ show downtown. Vivian had been drunk and Cole’s attention was a little too foc
used on a girl who wasn’t Vivien.
Apparently there had been high volume yelling, some glasses were smashed. Vivian pulled out a clump of hair from the poor girl who had the unfortunate luck of catching Cole’s eye that evening. All in all, it had been a melee of epic proportions. And I had missed it. It was the one time I wished I had let Maysie talk me into joining her. Because watching Vivian lose her shit was better than any reality television show.
Maysie shook her head as she wound up a guitar cable and handed it to Mitch. “Yeah, well Gracie said Cole spent the night last weekend. So who the hell knows….ahh!” Maysie screamed as Jordan grabbed her and bent her low over his arm, kissing her soundly in front of everyone.
His bandmates whistled, Barton’s staff catcalled, and there were a lot of pissed off groupies. I distinctly heard “whore” and “slut” muttered not so quietly. I glared at the group of girls behind me.
“You got a problem?” I asked them pointedly. I eyeballed each of them, giving them the ubiquitous girl once over, taking in their too tight clothes and cheap efforts to look sexy. I curled my lip in disgust and gave them my best sneer.
The girls, three of them, sneered back weakly. “No,” a red head said petulantly, sounding like a child who didn’t get the toy she wanted.
I flicked my fingers in their direction. “Well I think it’s time you leave. Barton’s is closing and this,” I motioned to the group of people who had gathered around the guys as they had their after show beers. “Is a private party.” I leaned in closer. “Meaning you aren’t invited,” I said slowly and purposefully.
The one with the overly styled blonde hair tossed her locks over her shoulder. “Bitch,” she bit out.
I smiled. “You know it,” I said to them as they turned and left.
Maysie had seen the whole exchange and shook her head at me. “Retract the claws she-lion. If I got upset every time one of these girls said something nasty about me, I’d never leave my room. And I’ve been there done that, girlfriend,” she teased.
I shrugged. “What can I say, you bring out my maternal instincts.” Maysie hugged me around the shoulders and I decided to let her. Like I said, she was the touchy-feely kind.
“You ready to head out, baby?” Jordan wrapped his arm around Maysie’s waist and kissed the back of her neck. Her eyes drooped in that way that meant she was melting into a puddle at his feet. I had to look away.
Excessive PDA made me mildly nauseous.
“Maysie says you’re coming this time, Riley. You wanna catch a ride with us?” Jordan asked, tucking his hand into Maysie’s jean pocket, making her giggle.
“I’m cool. I’ll follow you there. You know I like to have my own wheels. Plus, I’ve seen the trailer for the Jordan/Maysie porn show. I could do without the full feature,” I joked. Jordan laughed and Maysie flushed in embarrassment.
I walked out of the bar, trying not to care that Damien and Jaz were noticeably missing. I hated that it hurt. That I had been brought so low by the one person I had trusted with my heart. Damien Green was a big pile of suck.
“Time to let your hair down, Riley. Fun is definitely on the agenda,” Jordan said as I unlocked my car. I pumped my fist in the air and let out a whoop.
“Hell to the yeah!” I hollered. Jordan didn’t miss the heavily laced sarcasm, thus warranting an affectionate smack on the back of the head for yours truly.
“Do you need me to kick his ass, Ri? I will you know. Just say the word and Damien’s face will get up close and personal with Mr. I-Will-Break-Your-Nose.” Jordan held up his fist and smacked it into his palm in a feigned threatening gesture.
Maysie and I laughed. Jordan was a good guy. And I was lucky to have such great friends willing to commit assault and battery on my behalf. It really did give a girl the case of the tingles.
I held up my own fist and shook it. “I think Miss I-Will-Mess-You-Up has first dibs.” Jordan grinned and bumped my knuckles with his.
“Well if she needs backup, let this guy know,” he told me as he pulled Maysie towards his monstrosity of a truck. Getting into my car and turning on my music, I felt just a tiny bit better.
Dear god on everything that is holy, please don’t let me strangle this guy! I gnashed my teeth together, feeling the overwhelming urge to smack the crap out of Maysie for dragging me to the seventh level of hell with her.
Sure, this may be her thing. She played the part of rock star girlfriend really well. And more power to her. But she had gotten a wild hair up her ass thinking I needed to party, enjoy my youth, blah blah blah. And I had, in a moment of institutional crazies, agreed.
So here I was, surrounding myself with drunken jackasses as they tried to rub against each other (or me if I wasn’t paying attention) in some sort of scary mating ritual. Sorry, I missed that episode of Wild Planet. I know I had intended to let my dormant bad girl out to play but instead this whole scene had her in permanent hiding.
“Don’t you think?”
Huh?
I blinked in exaggerated slowness, making it clear that I hadn’t heard a damn thing he had said. He being none other than Garrett Bellows.
Garrett wasn’t put off by my blatant disinterest. I think the dude could talk to a brick wall. I was just surprised he had chosen to share his sparkling wit with me. Though it could be the fact that I was the one person in the room who couldn’t give a shit about anything he had to say. It was sort of like how cats always gravitated toward the one person who hated them the most. It was some sort of passive aggressive mind fuck. Oh you don’t like me? Well now I’m going to be all up in your face.
And like flies to garbage, Garrett had circled around me all evening until he had finally cornered me. It was as though he had been lying in wait for his chance to bore me to death. We had been engaged in a one-sided conversation for the past fifteen minutes. One-sided meaning that he was talking and I couldn’t care less. I had tuned out around the time he started waxing poetic about surfing at night during some trip to Hawaii last year.
I really hated these pseudo-philosophical types. You know the ones that smoked a bowl or two and suddenly they were Plato reincarnate, talking about the meaning of life and how it had to be a government conspiracy that McDonald’s only rolled out the McRib a few times a year.
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to run that by me again. I was too busy trying to remember why the hell I let Maysie talk me into coming here in the first place,” I said, infusing more than a little bit of jerk into my tone. Okay, so maybe the guy didn’t deserve to have a firsthand encounter with Riley Walker, mega witch, but I was in a bad mood and feeling a little heartbroken; which made me rude and more than a little punchy. Plus, Mr. Lead Guitar Player was the last person I wanted to be sharing air space with.
I fully expected Garrett to call me a bitch and leave me alone to stew in my bitter juices. I was really hoping he would anyway. It would give me an excuse to be justified in my feelings of annoyance and outrage where he was concerned. But the idiot did no such thing.
Instead he laughed. He freaking laughed! Was he missing a few of those brain cells that were required to recognize when someone was being a complete and total fuck face to you? Oh god, maybe he thought my attitude was endearing! Great, I hadn’t thought that maybe he was one of those crazies who got off on bitchy girls.
Retreat Riley! Retreat!
“You have one huge ass chip on your shoulder. Does it work for you?” Garrett asked lazily and my eyes snapped up to his. He spoke in that slow drawl of his that was either meant to be dead sexy or a perfect cure for insomnia.
“Does what work for me?” I asked him warily, not sure where he was going with this. He pushed a hand through his hair and narrowed a pair of thoughtful blue eyes in my direction. I couldn’t really make up my mind if I thought Garrett was good looking or not. His dirty blond hair was on the longis
h side, hanging down to his shoulders. I wasn’t typically into guys with long hair, but for this dude, it sort of worked it. He wasn’t overly tall, probably coming in around five foot eleven with a wiry frame that he seemed to like to show off by the amount of time he spent without a shirt on. Though if I had abs that defined, I’d probably be topless all the time, tits and all.
His cornflower blue eyes could have been appealing if they weren’t blood shot and glazed over. He exuded that laid back couldn’t give a toss demeanor that only came after inhaling a copious amount of THC into your system. And given the number of chicks who had attempted to get his attention since he had plopped down beside me to begin the most asinine conversation in history; he must have some sort of magnetism. Too bad I was wearing my armor of snark and not remotely susceptible to any of his possible charms.
I could admit that I had already dismissed him as a small-brained stoner who was smoking away the last of his brain cells. We had never carried on a meaningful conversation and I had never expected him to bother having one with me. But then his question and following statement caught me off guard.
Garrett leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He waved a hand in my direction. “This. The whole ‘I’m a bitch so stay away’ act. I get that this probably isn’t your scene. I bet you’d rather be at some eco-warrior recycling meeting or something. You seem like the idealistic save the world type.” I bristled at his annoyingly astute observation.
“Wow, so you picked that all up from the complete lack of conversation we were having? Can I add deluded quasi-psychic to your resume. Right under wannabe rock star?” I said rather nastily, not wanting to give anybody the upper hand. Particularly this grunged out dope head whose eyes seemed to have cleared a bit. And I couldn’t help but notice that yeah, they were pretty appealing.
Perfect Regret ( BOOK 2) Page 3
