I started to sweat.
The words terminate your contract and go beyond Generation Rejects buzzed in my ears. My stomach flipped over and I dropped the phone on the cold tile as I leaned over the toilet and retched.
Jose didn’t stay on the line after that. And I didn’t bother to call him back. I couldn’t handle his great ideas for my future right now.
I was so fucking confused.
When I thought it was safe to leave my bathroom, I headed out to my living room and sat down on my couch. I turned on the television and was annoyed to see only static.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, getting up and going over to mess with the cable behind the TV.
After a few minutes and with no success, I called the cable company. It seemed that my cable had been shut off. Seemed I had forgotten to pay the bill while I was on the road.
Oops.
I threw the remote control on the couch and went into my kitchen. Opening the refrigerator had been a mistake. Something had obviously crawled in there and died. And my stomach went into immediate revolt.
I slammed the door of the fridge closed and debated the intelligence of grabbing my keys and making a run for it.
Because right now, my life was shit.
And I had been doing so well.
I needed to talk to the guys. But I was feeling obstinate. And ornery. And a lot scorned bitch.
I thought back to the first time we played all together at Barton’s. We had been awesome. We had just clicked. There was something that happened between the four of us when we played together.
It was hard to describe and even harder to understand until you experienced it.
Music is what had kept me sane. After my parents kicked me out and I started floundering, it gave me a fucking purpose. It gave me something to get invested in.
And I found in it something to be proud of. I was made to be a lead singer. I lived for being up on that stage and making people want me.
So maybe I had started letting it get to my head a bit. But you tell me one person who could do what I did every single night, who could have the women throwing themselves at them, having people tell them how amazing they were, and not start to feel like maybe they were right. That you are pretty awesome.
And what was wrong with feeling good about yourself?
I had spent most of my life feeling pretty shitty about who I was. I had never been good enough. Even when I broke the school’s scoring record my junior year. Even when I was offered a scholarship. None of it mattered.
Most of the time growing up I had been pretty sure my dad had hated me. I couldn’t remember a single time he had given me a compliment or had said “Good job, Cole.”
That didn’t mean I expected sympathy. I didn’t wallow in my daddy issues and use it as an excuse to do whatever the hell I wanted.
Though it didn’t take a PH.D. to dig down to the root of my psychological issues.
For someone who had never received any positive attention from the one person I had wanted it from, being inundated with it every night, in the form of the crowd, or chicks wanting in my pants, or record labels telling me I was a star in the making, it was pretty damn addictive.
So I had taken the praise and the attention and I had run with it. It had come to define me.
But that didn’t mean I was a bad guy.
Right?
Then why was I sitting here. . . alone?
I was alone.
And that pissed me off. I had worked too damn hard and for too damn long to be in the same dingy apartment I had been living in since I was nineteen. I had thought when the Rejects had started to get some attention, it was my ticket out. My chance to prove everyone wrong.
So why was I still here worse off than I was when I left?
Something needed to change. And I was beginning to think I knew exactly what that thing was.
As if on cue, my phone rang again and if it was Jose again, I’d answer and tell him to make his calls.
Because if I couldn’t get to where I wanted to be doing things the old way, then it was time to try something new. Garrett, Jordan, and Mitch wouldn’t hold me back from anything, ever again.
So I grabbed my phone, full of self-righteous fury.
But it wasn’t Jose.
It was Garrett.
“Hello?” I said, answering it before giving myself time to think about exactly what I was going to say.
“Hey, man,” Garrett said, sounding as neutrally bland as he ever did. There was a long moment of silence where neither of us said a word.
I wasn’t entirely sure what he expected me to say. Or what I expected him to say. But currently neither of us was saying anything at all.
I cleared my throat. My earlier anger still simmered in my blood.
“What can I do for you?” I finally asked.
“Well, what do you think, Cole? We’re back in Bakersville. We haven’t heard from you. I figured you’d want to get together so we can hash shit out,” Garrett retorted.
“You mean so you can sit around and tell me what an arrogant prick I am,” I corrected.
“Look, dude, that’s not it at all. We all have shit we need to address. So why don’t you get off your sorry ass and get over here. The sooner the better.”
I bristled instantly. Why did I need to jump through hoops because Garrett and the others had deemed it time to talk? I didn’t appreciate the demand in his tone. I thought back to my conversation with Jose and the opportunities that were already presenting themselves.
I didn’t need this bullshit. I didn’t need three assholes to tell me what they thought I should change.
Fuck them!
“Yeah, well, I can’t.”
I could hear Garrett grinding his teeth. It was loud and it was annoying.
“What the fuck are you talking about? We need to talk. I know you’re pissed. We are too. But I think-”
I cut him off, not interested in whatever psychobabble, hippie love shit was about to come spewing out of his mouth.
“I said I can’t come right now,” I said through clenched teeth.
Then there was silence again.
It lasted so long I started to think that Garrett had hung up.
“Hello?” I said.
“Is that how things are going to be? This is it?” Garrett asked quietly and I felt a twinge of guilt at the sound of regret in my friend’s voice.
Was this how it was going to be? Was I really going to shaft my band and go out on my own?
Was I really going to leave behind everything that had made me who I am and think only of myself?
The possibility was too tempting to ignore.
But I still couldn’t be the dick that they expected me to be. I still owed them something.
“Look, I’ve got to get my head in the right place. Give me some time. Yeah, I’m pissed, Garrett. I’m really fucking pissed. I don’t want to come over and it turn into another round of the Jordan and Cole agro hour,” I said, feeling really tired. I still hadn’t found any ibuprophen and my headache was attacking my brain with renewed force.
“Cole, man, I don’t think it’ll be like that. You and Jordan just need to hear each other out. You’re friends-” Garrett argued.
“No, he’s your friend. He’s never been my friend. I think that’s fucking obvious,” I said, sounding like a whiny bitch.
“Shit, are you for real? You’ve been playing in a band together for years. Stop being such a pussy. Your feelings are hurt. I get it. But you need to get over that shit for the sake of the band,” Garrett growled. He was pissed. I could tell because he wasn’t neutral anymore. He was spitting nails.
“For the sake of the band? What band, Garrett? Because where I’m standing I don’t see anything resembling a group I want to be a part of.”
Garrett hissed in a breath.
“Well, if that’s how you feel, I won’t stop you. And I’m not going to argue over the fucking phone like two high school cunts. If you wa
nt to talk about the band and about what the hell has been going on, you know where I live.”
And he hung up.
I threw my phone on the couch and kicked over the trashcan.
I covered my face with my hands and screamed as loud as I could. Two seconds later there was a pounding on the other side of my wall.
“Shut up! Some people are trying to sleep!” my meth head neighbor yelled through the paper-thin partitions.
I had hoped that my life would change for the better.
How wrong I was.
“You seem distracted, Vivian. What’s wrong?” Theo asked as we sat in at the table in the foyer of The Claremont Center on Tuesday morning. It had only been two days since Maysie had shown up our doorstep and I was a nervous wreck.
I had skirted around town, dodging places where I was convinced I’d run into Cole. I stayed the hell away from Barton’s, the liquor store, and Deanne’s Diner, only because I knew how he loved their pecan pie.
But even as I tried to avoid him, I couldn’t help but look for him everywhere I went. I was picking up ice cream and facial cleanser at Walmart and I couldn’t help but look anxiously around for that dark head I was desperate, yet loathed to see.
I went through the drive- thru at Burger King for a vanilla milkshake and I found myself peering into the dining room, wondering if Cole was perhaps there, picking up his usual Whopper with cheese.
And when I drove down his street, because it seemed like the shortest way to get to my hairdresser, I tried to suppress the instant swarm of butterflies that unleashed their holy terror in my stomach when I caught sight of his beat up clunker sat out front of his building.
So damn straight I was distracted. I was a huge, giant, sweaty mess of distraction and it wasn’t getting any better. Every hour, every minute, every goddamned second that passed, knowing that Cole and I were in breathing distance from one another felt like a ticking time bomb.
I just waited for it to go off in my face.
I wanted to clench my hands into to fists and shake them at the sky screaming, “Why God, why?” in full melodramatic glory.
But I was at work. And that sort of psychotic behavior just wouldn’t do. So I plastered the fakest of fake smiles on my face and shook my head, as if to swipe all the lingering cobwebs away.
I gave Theo my best smile and even incorporated a little eyelash batting for good measure. “I’m just tired,” I excused.
“You do look a little tense. Is there anything I can do? I give one heck of a massage,” Theo offered, giving me a timid smile. He really was such a sweet guy. Why oh why couldn’t I be hopelessly attracted to him? Why couldn’t I rip his clothes off and have my wicked way with him?
I had felt I had been on the cusp of feeling something towards him. I had been feeling the tingles in all the right places. I had been indulging in the semi-regular fantasy that included him walking into my office, sweeping everything off my desk in a total alpha gesture, ripping my panties off and fucking me senseless on top of the gala budget plan.
Things had been progressing. At least in my head.
But now Cole was back in town. And all of my fantasies, all of my tingles had fizzled into non-existence.
Damn it! I felt like I was back at square freaking one!
“Thanks, Theo. I’m sure I’ll be fine with a good night’s sleep,” I said, brushing off his shyly sexual offer.
Theo looked down at the table and I had the sense he was feeling a tad rejected. I wish he would stop making me feel so guilty. It was starting to tick me off.
“Well, I’m here. You know if you need to talk, or whatever,” he stumbled.
I smiled. Not knowing what else to say. I hated dangling precariously like this on the edge of indecision. I wish I were firm enough in my resolve to be rid of Cole that I could move forward with Theo, no questions. No doubts.
And while Cole was hundreds of miles away, it was easier to work towards that. But now that I knew he was here in Bakersville, even if I hadn’t even seen him yet, I felt like he was pulling me back into his tractor beam. How could one person hold so much sway over another? It didn’t’ seem right. In fact it was downright cruel.
“Thanks, Theo. You’re such a good friend.” I patted his hand and almost cringed at my word choice.
Theo tried to play down his own wince. I had friend zoned him. Why had I done that? Did I want to do that? Why couldn’t I figure out what was going on in my own damn head?
“Well, I try to be,” Theo answered and I hated the look of disappointment on his face. One that I had put there.
I was such a damn fool.
“Make it a double, Dina!” I called out, tapping my fingers on the bar. I turned in my stool and looked out at the crowded restaurant. Barton’s was packed for a Tuesday night. But it was Ladies’ Night and women drank half price until closing. Most of Rinard College’s legal aged drinkers were crammed into the space. The girls looking to get wasted and the guys hoping to take them home.
I remembered that particular mating ritual well.
After Theo had left, I had tried to get my head into my workday. I ended up checking my email a half a dozen times and then mindlessly filing. My mind was on anything but work.
It was annoying.
So when Gracie had called and asked if I wanted to meet her at Barton’s for dinner I had agreed, mostly because I couldn’t take going home and drive myself crazy over thoughts of what Cole was doing.
But there was also a part of me that was much bigger than I wanted it to be that hoped to run into him there.
Though I should have known, given the state of his relationship with the rest of Generation Rejects, Barton’s was the last place he’d show up.
So it was with a nagging disappointment that I joined, Gracie, Garrett, Maysie, Jordan, and Mitch for a round of beers and a mountain of hot wings while the guys watched football and us girls talked about the latest episode of Scandal.
We had moved things over to the bar after we had finished eating. It was already much later than I had meant to stay out on a work night, but I was determined to enjoy myself.
As much fun as it was to hang out with my friends, I couldn’t ignore the nagging strangeness of being with this group of people without Cole. Even though he wasn’t there and his name was purposefully avoided like the plague, his presence was felt intensely.
I felt it. And I know everyone else did as well.
“I friend zoned Theo today,” I yelled to Gracie over the noise.
Gracie twirled her straw in her lemonade and widened her eyes.
“You did what?” she asked.
Garrett leaned in, resting his arms on the bar as he tried to hear what we were talking about.
“Who’s Theo?” he asked.
“The cute man who wants in Vivian’s pants,” Gracie teased and I rolled my eyes.
“That’s cool,” Garrett said, looking like he was already regretting getting involved in our conversation.
“Well it would be if I could stop being such an idiot,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead.
“How did you friend zone him?” Mitch asked from my other side, seeming genuinely perplexed.
I noticed that Gracie instantly tensed when Mitch moved in closer to stand behind us. They had carefully sat away from each other all evening. Our group was suffocating under so much unresolved tension.
I had yet to figure out exactly had changed between Mitch and Gracie. But whatever it was, it clearly was there to stay for a while.
I looked at the both of them with raised eyebrows but they ignored my silent question.
They weren’t going to tell me shit.
“I said, “You’re such a good friend, Theo.”
Garrett and Mitch groaned in unison.
“I don’t even know this dude and I feel bad for him,” Mitch stated, reaching around me to grab his beer. I watched Gracie’s eyes follow him, her expression hurt but tender. And I suddenly knew exactly what the problem was.
They had slept together.
Those sneaky bastards had finally screwed and no one had told me. I met Gracie’s eyes and gave her a look that said I know what you did, you dirty hoe!
She flushed and quickly looked away. I was totally going to find out about this later.
But I kindly let it go for now.
“I thought you liked him,” Maysie piped up, coming to join us at the bar. Jordan was talking to Moore, Barton’s manager.
“I do like him. I just can’t make the leap,” I complained.
Gracie shook her head. “And I think we all know why,” she scolded.
“God, seriously? You’re still hung up on Cole?” Mitch spat out as though his name were a bad word.
“You don’t understand,” I responded unconvincingly. Garrett and Mitch both shook their heads as though I were the biggest idiot in the world. Gracie simply looked sad for me.
“Whatever,” I muttered, tired of talking about the crappy state of my love life.
Jordan came back to the bar, his face pinched and drawn.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Maysie asked, looping her arm around his waist.
“Well, nothing’s wrong, really. Moore just offered to pay us a shitload of money if we’d play tonight.”
Garrett sat up straight and Mitch put his beer down on the bar.
“How much is a shitload?” Mitch asked.
“Five hundred bucks,” Jordan said and we all gaped.
“Why so much?” Maysie asked.
“Because apparently the band that was supposed to play tonight backed out at last minute. He’s freaking out back there.” Jordan jerked his thumb in the direction of the middle aged, overweight manager, who was indeed wringing his hands and looking like he might pass out.
“Well, we can’t exactly call Cole,” Mitch snarled and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell them all to stop being so silly. To tell them to put on their big boy pants call Cole.
Seductive Chaos Page 18
