Seductive Chaos

by A. Meredith Walters

  The tour bus had just gotten to St. Louis an hour and half ago. We had all checked into the hotel and I was enjoying some much needed alone time.

  I had spent the remaining time on the bus hiding out in my bunk. Mitch and Jordan had tried to get me to jam with them for a bit but I said I had a headache. That I wasn’t in the mood.

  Yes, I had officially grown a vagina.

  I had practically run from the bus when we pulled up at the Best Western. And now I was in my room, alone, clinging to my phone and entirely too happy just because I finally got a girl to talk to me.

  “Sorry. I went out last night. I had one hell of a hangover this morning,” Vivian laughed and then groaned.

  I smiled, knowing what her morning must have been like. Vivian didn’t wear hung-over very well. She was mean. And she had no qualms about making everyone within a ten-mile radius as miserable as she was.

  But what I wouldn’t give to be in Bakersville with her right now. I didn’t like this crazy confusion swirling around in my head. I liked cut and dry, black and white. I didn’t feel comfortable with the temptation I had been given.

  “Sorry, baby. I wish I were there to take care of you,” I said huskily, thinking graphically about exactly how I would take care of her.

  I wasn’t sure when things had changed for me where Vivian was concerned. We had been fucking for almost two years now. We weren’t dating. And we most certainly didn’t have a commitment.

  Up until six months ago, I routinely screwed who ever I wanted, not thinking twice about how Vivian felt or what she would say about it. I didn’t particularly care. Sure, that was messed up, but it was the truth.

  I knew Vivian didn’t like it. She made her feelings pretty clear on a number of occasions. But I also knew that she got off on feeling jealous. That she enjoyed getting mad and taking it out on me. That it gave her the same sick sense of satisfaction that it gave me. That despite all that when she was around, she was the only one I wanted.

  She was spiteful. She was retaliatory. I knew that if I made her angry, I’d get it back in the worst way possible. She’d make me feel it.

  And I dug that about her. She wasn’t like most girls I knew who said what they thought you wanted to hear. She was mouthy. She was loud. She flew off the handle at the slightest provocation.

  And she drove me fucking crazy.

  She pushed my buttons like nobody else. She pissed me off. She frustrated me to all hell. And she turned me on like no girl had ever known before. She just had to flip that gorgeous hair of hers and I was rock hard.

  The sex had always been amazing. Viv was a tiger. She scratched, she bit, she pulled chunks of hair out of my head. And she took it as good as she gave it. She loved it when I bent her over a chair or laid her out on a pool table.

  She loved it loud and public. Vivian was a total exhibitionist. She thought nothing of riding me in a bathroom at Barton’s or sucking me off in a darkened corner at the back of a club.

  She was exciting. And sexy as hell.

  And she had never been anything more than that. I hadn’t wanted her to be.

  She was the girl I could call in the middle of the night when I needed to get my rocks off. She was the girl I knew was waiting to warm my bed when I came home in between shows. And she was the girl who would fly half across the country just to see me naked.

  And she was the girl who would lose her fucking shit if she found me with anyone else. She’d scream and throw a scene. She’d turn me on in an instant. And then we would fuck all night long.

  It was who we were together. I didn’t expect anyone to understand it. There were times when even I couldn’t wrap my head around what we were to each other. So I didn’t expect anyone to approve or comprehend.

  It was what it was.

  And there was a nice simplicity in that.

  But at some point along the way, I had found it easier and easier to talk to Vivian in between bouts of marathon sex. When my dick wasn’t inside her, I would tell her about my parents. Or about the crazy shit going on with the band.

  And she’d listen. She always did.

  And I liked it.

  Almost as much as I liked her magnificent breasts.

  “Shut up, Cole. I can’t laugh right now. It hurts too much,” Vivian moaned, low and deep and I felt my cock stir at the sound. It’s what this girl did to me. Just the sound of her voice had me hard as a rock.

  “Sorry, babe,” I said sincerely.

  “So what’s going on? Why the million and one texts and phone calls? If I didn’t know better I’d think you missed me, Cole Brandt,” Vivian teased tiredly. I knew she felt like crap and if I were a nicer guy I’d let her go so she could rest.

  But I needed to talk to her.

  I was a selfish prick.

  “You weren’t answering. I thought you were pissed at me again,” I said jokingly, though it was 100% true.

  Vivian sighed. “So that warranted stalking?” she asked, sounding perturbed.

  “I don’t like it when you’re pissed at me,” I told her, coating my words in warm honey. I knew how hard it was for her to resist me when I was sweet. And damned if I didn’t like being sweet to her.

  “Yes, you do,” Vivian mocked.

  I chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re hot when you’re mad. I like it when your claws come out,” I admitted.

  “So how are things out there in the land of rock and roll?” she asked, changing the subject.

  I lay back on the bed and tucked the hand not holding the phone under my head. I stared at the ceiling. “It’s going,” I sighed.

  “You don’t sound too happy about that. Is the rock and roll lifestyle losing its luster,” she teased. Shit, if she only knew.

  I wanted to tell her about my conversation with Jose. I needed to get this great big pile of guilt off my chest. Ever since Jose had mentioned the possibilities for me this morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was obsessing.

  But I couldn’t tell Vivian. Because I wasn’t ready to admit out loud how much I wanted to take Jose up on his offer. That would be to admit how much of a traitorous ass I really was.

  I played the part of dickhead really well. I fucked chicks; I started fights. I spoke out of my ass and pretended not to give a shit about consequences.

  But it was just that. . .pretending.

  I had learned a long time ago that being a jerk was easier than being someone people walked all over. That it was better to hurt someone before they had the chance to hurt me.

  It was fucked up. It was wrong. I knew this. But I didn’t do heartache and pain very well. I was big pussy about it actually.

  And the thought of screwing over the three people closest to me, while repulsive, was also entirely too appealing.

  And if I verbalized it, the asshole thing wouldn’t be an act anymore.

  It would be who I was. I would feel it deep in my bones.

  It would be all I knew.

  “It’s just overwhelming sometimes,” I said, feeling safe to admit that small truth.

  Vivian’s sigh filled my ears and made me feel better than I had all day.

  “I’m sure. I can’t even imagine. But you’ll be fine. You’re Cole Brandt. This is what you do. You’ll get up on that stage tonight and you’ll become everyone’s fantasy and you’ll love it.”

  “Am I your fantasy?” I chuckled, hoping to god she said yes.

  Vivian’s soft laughter was like a kick to the gut. I seriously loved her laugh.

  “Some days,” she muttered.

  “Only some days? What about today?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear. I don’t think I had ever smiled this wide in my entire life.

  “I don’t know. There’s still time for you to piss me off.”

  Then we were both laughing and life felt good again.

  “The guys will be playing in Raleigh next week. You wanna drive down with me and stay over?” Gracie asked, getting into the refrigerator and taking out a bottle of tomat
o juice. I cringed as she poured herself a cup and drank it.

  “How can you drink that stuff?” I gagged, handing her a piece of toast. Gracie shrugged and took a bite of bread, crumbs falling to the floor.

  “So, what do you think? Will you come with me?” she asked, following me into the living room. I turned on the morning news and sat down on the couch to eat my meager breakfast of toast and grapefruit before I headed into work.

  “I don’t know. It really all depends on what’s going on with work,” I said lamely. And while that was true, it wasn’t my biggest reason for not wanting to trek down to North Carolina.

  I also wasn’t entirely sure I was up for a weekend of crazy with Cole.

  While things had been pretty nice between us lately, I knew it was only a matter of time before he screwed it all up. Or more specifically screwed someone.

  We had spoken on the phone almost every night since last week and he had tried his hand at phone stalking. I hadn’t purposefully avoided his calls, but Gracie and I had gone out and gotten wasted and I had left my phone at home.

  I had purposefully left it behind mostly because I somehow knew a certain buzzkill lead singer would call when I was trying my hardest to forget about him for one night.

  And it had been working for a while.

  We had met some guys at Barton’s and they had come back to our apartment. They were a few years younger, both seniors at Rinard. I had felt a bit like a cougar when the one named Lambert had started putting the moves on me. He was a fresh-faced twenty who obviously hadn’t ventured far from the family farm. He seemed awestruck when I gave him my attention, which was good for the ego.

  So I had gone along with it for a while. We had kissed and there had been some mild groping but then Cole happened. Or more like the memory of his mouth and his hands ruined any chance for poor Lambert.

  I had shut it down. I had sent poor country boy home with nothing to show for it but a raging case of disappointment. And I had spent the rest of my evening eating ice cream and watching Mob Wives.

  It wouldn’t have been such a bad night actually, if I hadn’t had to suffer through the sounds of Gracie enjoying herself with Lambert’s roommate Nathan, on the other side of our all too thin walls.

  I had woken up in the afternoon the next day to the incessant dinging of my cellphone. I had been shocked as hell to see the number of texts and missed calls I had from Cole.

  It was like he knew or something. I was beginning to think he had hookup ESP. He was able to psychically know when I was trying to have a good time without him.

  For a brief moment I thought something had happened to Maysie. That she had been hurt. So I had called him back immediately. When he had asked where I had been in that sexy, husky way of his, I realized that his manic calling had to do with something else entirely.

  If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought Cole had been missing me. And when I asked him as much, he had blown it off just as I had expected him to. But there was a note to his voice that was confusing. He seemed almost sad. And a lot vulnerable.

  We ended up talking for over an hour. Up until he had to leave for his radio interview. And then he called me again after his show and we ended up staying on the phone until the early hours of the morning.

  And there hadn’t been any women in his hotel room. I could tell by the silence in the background that he had been completely alone. That alone was a reason to believe in miracles. Cole Brandt without a girl in his room had me almost believing in unicorns and fairies.

  Then I started to wonder what he wanted. It was like when a husband buys his wife flowers out of the blue. The first thought the woman has is, “What did he do wrong?” Or “What is he up to, the bastard?”

  And if it involved handcuffs and dressing like a nun again so I could smack him with a ruler for a being a “naughty boy” I’d tell him where to shove it.

  Several months ago I had spent four hours, in a nun habit, handcuffed to a hotel bed because Cole couldn’t remember where he had left the keys. In the end he had to call a locksmith to pick the lock.

  Imagine my total mortification when a complete stranger took in my odd get up, bound to a bed. And Cole hadn’t even bothered to put away the obscenely large, neon blue vibrator that sat proudly on the bedside table, announcing to the world that we liked it kinky.

  The locksmith didn’t say anything, thank god, but I think he was enjoying himself a little too much as he took an inordinately long time to free me.

  After Cole had paid him, he thought we could launch back into his quirky sex game. I had let him know, in no uncertain terms, that the only sex game he would be indulging in would involve his hand and his balls.

  He had tried to butter me up with his patented version of sweet-talking. Though being told my tits made him want to bust a load in his pants didn’t make my heart skip a beat.

  This was definitely different. He was different. This strange, tender man who called me every night and spoke about things other than his band or wanting me to rub his Long Dong Silver was disconcerting.

  Something was changing between Cole and me and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I wasn’t sure I was ready to accept a side of him that wasn’t cocky and arrogant. I could admit that throughout the duration of our less than conventional acquaintance, I got off on the crazy, insanity inducing tirades he incited as much as he did. There was something predictably unpredictable about wanting to rip his pit hair out and making him eat it. Even though I hated with a fiery passion finding him with other women, it’s what I expected from him.

  It made it easier to not dream of more with him. Cole wasn’t boyfriend material. I couldn’t be delusional about that if he was screwing around the second I wasn’t in sight. My heart couldn’t engage and in turn be broken into a million tiny pieces.

  But perhaps I was deluded. Because whether I wanted to or not, I did care about him. My stomach flipped and turned over when I saw him. I was at times reduced to a squealy teenage girl around her crush.

  Because when the asshole touched me, my entire body ignited. For the last two years, Cole had been slowly ruining me for any guy that would ever come after him.

  Poor, pitiful Lambert learned that lesson the hard way.

  And now Cole was playing Mr. I’m-So-Sensitive-Don’t-You-Want-To-Hug-Me. The man I had always been able to count on for delicious, sometimes boundary pushing, toe-curling sex, was appealing to my emotional side.

  Damn him!

  So, no I wasn’t jumping at the chance to see him. He was terrifying me. He was making me question everything about the way things between us operated.

  He was making keeping my distance increasingly difficult. And I was more than a little worried that once I saw him I’d launch myself at him and confess my undying love.

  And that was a humiliation I was not signing up for, thank you very much.

  “Well, I’m going. It’s Mitch’s birthday that weekend and I’d like to see him.” I raised my eyebrows at my friend. Gracie stared blandly back, not giving me anything.

  I almost snorted. It was on the tip of my tongue to start singing “Mitch and Gracie sittin’ in a tree.” But given my friend’s carefully neutral expression, I figured that taunting her about her tip toeing the line between friends and fucking his brains out relationship with Mitch Delany would not be greeted with laughter.

  I wanted to smack Gracie. I thought she was being deliberately obtuse and more than a little cruel when it came to the Rejects’ bassist. He was a nice guy. Probably one of the straight up sweetest people I had ever met.

  He adored Gracie. He worshipped at the altar of her awesomeness. He’d give her a kidney if she needed one.

  And she was keeping him securely in the friend zone. Even though she tossed him just enough line to make him either hopeful for an actual relationship or to strangle himself with.

  I honestly didn’t understand what Gracie was thinking. Personally I suspected that there were more than friendly feelings
beneath her staunch denial. I knew they had never hooked up. No kissing. No questionable touching. But I knew she thought about it. I saw the green eyed monster rearing its nasty head when girls flirted with him.

  Mitch, like Cole, was no saint. He slept around like any self-respecting up and coming rock star. He sampled his way through the tang buffet.

  And it pissed Gracie off, though she would never say so.

  She only had herself to blame though. So it was hard to feel sorry for her when her face took on the green pallor of imminent upchuck as she watched girls slip Mitch their telephone numbers.

  Then Gracie would go and screw the first guy she came in contact with.

  Their pattern was about as destructive as my own.

  But Mitch would still be there to call her every day. He’d send her packages from the road full of thoughtful presents just to let her know he was thinking about her.

  She was always the girl at the front of his mind.

  But I worried that the day would come when Mitch would no longer be content to play the part of Gracie’s pet. He wouldn’t coast along forever in the ambiguous state of limbo they existed in. One day one of those random girls would catch his eye and his heart and he would move on.

  And I knew, whether Gracie could admit it to herself, she would be devastated.

  “Isn’t that sweet? It’s almost like you love him or something.” I couldn’t help it. My maturity level was questionable at the best of times.

  Gracie’s eyes narrowed and I smirked.

  “I’m not even dignifying that with a response,” she sniffed.

  “But you just did,” I pointed out, giggling.

  “So are you going to come with me or not? Isn’t it time for your drama fix? Aren’t you in withdrawal from not having a reason to throw something?” Gracie asked, grinning.

  I stuck my tongue out at her. “Touché, bitch,” I conceded.

  “We’ll see. I’m pretty slammed with this gala I’m planning. I’m not sure I can afford to go gallivanting off to North Carolina for the weekend. I’m pretending to be a productive member of society, darn it.”

  Gracie rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You live for gallivanting. And I think your emerging alter ego can take a rest for two days. I’ve been getting the feeling that Maysie could use our company. I get the impression that things are getting tense on the road,” she said, surprising me.