I ran my hands up her thighs and gripped her waist. I leaned down and kissed the base of her throat, my lips lingering over the erratic heartbeat
“What’s wrong, baby? I want to make you feel good,” I pleaded, running my fingers up under the skirt of her dress again.
Vivian grabbed ahold of my wrists and squeezed with all of her might.
“We are not having sex, Cole. So get your damn hands off me,” she warned.
I quickly pulled my hands back as though she had burned me. I sat back on my haunches and watched in disbelief as she swung her legs off the side of the bed and got to her feet. A little bit shaky I might add, feeling a smidge of satisfaction for making her knees tremble.
“I just thought, after you came in my mouth, that you wanted to keep going. Sorry for the misunderstanding,” I said sarcastically.
“I was asleep, Cole! I thought I was dreaming,” she fumed.
I smirked. “Do you dream about me tongue fucking you often?” I asked.
“I should have known,” Vivian muttered under her breath, sliding into her strappy sandal things with heels that looked like weapons. I didn’t want her throwing them, so I decided to backpedal a bit.
“Why are you even here?” I asked, trying to think back to last night. The only thing I could recall was going to Benny’s and ordering a round or ten. I didn’t remember much after that.
Though there were clearly some things between then and now that I needed to know about.
“You were wasted at Benny’s. I was there with my date. . .”
“You were on a date?” I asked, frowning.
Vivian sighed. “Well, thanks to your drunken dramatics, it ended before it really began. So thanks for that,” she hurled at me.
I rubbed the skin between my eyebrows, my head pounding with a dull ache. For being as drunk as I had obviously been, I wasn’t that hung over.
“Did we. . .?” I made a hip thrusting motion to make my point. Because if we fucked and I couldn’t remember it, I was going to be pissed. I had waited too damn long to have Vivian Baily in my bed again. I’d be livid if I had blacked out during it.
Vivian picked up a pillow and threw it at me. I caught it easily and tossed it back onto the bed. “No, we didn’t have sex! Though apparently this morning is a different story.” She sounded so disgusted that it gave me pause. Would sleeping with me have been that horrible?
Didn’t she just enjoy herself?
“Vivian, hang on a sec. I’m sorry for misreading shit. But I just thought. . .you seemed into it. And I thought because you were here, you wanted to be with me. Am I wrong?” I hated how weak I sounded. I hated that her rejection was ripping my insides out.
With everything going on, finding her beside me this morning had seemed like a miracle.
I had missed her more than I realized. She had become an integral part of my world. A world that was slipping between my fingers.
Showing up at Barton’s the other night and finding some other fucker fronting my band had been a hard blow. And the crowd seemed to be eating it up, whether I was there or not.
It hurt.
No, it had killed me.
And seeing Vivian there, I realized with a sudden realization that Generation Rejects and my friends weren’t the only things I had lost.
So I had gone home and gotten drunk. And more drunk. And when I sobered up a bit, I started drinking all over again.
Somehow I had ended up at Benny’s. Apparently the body needs more than beer and liquor to sustain itself. My raging blackout was a testament to that.
My life was beyond fucked. I had messed up the only relationships I had ever counted on. And all the fame and fortune wouldn’t make up for the fact that I had no one.
And then I had found Vivian in my bed and I thought, for a brief moment, that maybe not everything was lost.
Guess I was wrong.
When had I become such a sappy bastard?
Vivian’s face softened. “I need to go, Cole. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she grabbed her phone and made a quick phone call.
“Hello. I need a cab at 72 Park Lane. As soon as possible. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and turned to me, her chin raised and a marked distance between us. “Can I use your bathroom?” she asked, not meeting my eyes.
“Sure,” I mumbled.
I was in the same spot when Vivian came out. I grabbed her hand as she went to walk past me to the door.
“Wait, Vivian. I haven’t talked to you in weeks. And there’s so much shit going on. I’ve really missed you. Can I see you later? Can I come by or can we go out somewhere?”
Vivian shook her head, cutting me off.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cole. Nothing has changed between you and me. Last night was nothing. It was just one person worried about another. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself, so I stayed here. Let’s not make it into something that it’s not. You and I have never been the sort to read into whatever was between us. I don’t want to start now.”
Had I done this? Made her so damn bitter?
“And as for what’s going on with the guys, I think you need to take a long hard look at what got you here. You need to stop drinking yourself into a coma and start thinking about this with a clear head. Figure out what you want and where you hope to go from here. Stop blaming everybody and everything.”
Vivian slung her purse over her shoulder and opened the door. A blast of cold air blew in.
“I hope you get it together, Cole. Because you’re damn close to ruining everything.”
And then she was gone.
Like she had never been there.
What the fuck?
I picked up my phone, a brand new iPhone I had picked up from the airport. Jose had called half a dozen times over the last day and a half. I thought about listening to the messages I knew he had left, but I decided against it.
Vivian was right. I needed to get my head together. And listening to anything Jose had to say wouldn’t help.
I went back to my bedroom and looked at the mussed sheets, still able to smell Vivian’s lingering scent.
I grabbed the only clean pair of jeans I had left and a ripped T-shirt and headed for the shower. My stomach rumbled. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten.
So after I was clean, I found my wallet and keys on the table where Vivian must have left them and I headed into Bakersville. I had been purposefully avoiding the town since I had gotten back on Sunday. I hadn’t wanted to run into anyone and have to explain what I was doing back.
And I definitely hadn’t wanted to run into Jordan, Mitch, or Garrett.
But I was done hiding. It was time for me to, as Vivian had said, figure what I wanted.
I got some breakfast at the only decent diner in town and then got into my car and started driving. I knew where I was headed as I started to follow curved country roads I had known my entire life.
I pulled up in front of an old Victorian. It had at one time been yellow with white shutters. At some point in the last five years, it had been painted a pale blue and the wooden shutters had been replaced with ones made of maroon vinyl.
What was I doing here? Was I actually going to go and knock on the door? What would I say?
I got out of my car and stared up at the house that had been my home for the first eighteen years of my life.
I didn’t recognize the cars in the driveway. The place was a lot nicer than I remembered. The battered wooden lattice had been replaced and the shed out back looked to have been taken down and replaced with a swing set.
Wait. A swing set?
I walked up the now sturdy steps to the front door and knocked.
A few seconds later I was greeted with a petite woman with red hair that was definitely not my mother.
“Can I help you?” she asked, smiling.
“Uh, I was actually looking for Kenneth and Joan Brandt. They used to live here,” I said, peering behind her into the foyer I remembered but
that was now completely different.
The woman chuckled. “Oh, we bought the house from them two years ago.”
I throat felt uncomfortably tight.
“Two years ago?” I clarified, my voice cracking.
The woman looked at me strangely, taking in my tattoos, lip ring, and messy hair.
“Yes,” she said shortly, obviously ready to close the door in my face.
My parents had moved out of our house. They had sold it and moved and never told me.
I had no idea where they were.
“Do you know where” my voice gave out and I had to work like hell to pull myself together.
“Do you know where they went?” I asked and I hated the softening on the small woman’s face. It’s like she knew the pain I was feeling.
She shook her head. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”
My hand shook as I pushed hair out of my eyes. I needed to get out of there.
“Thanks. I’m sorry to bother you,” I said quickly, hurrying off the porch and back to my car.
I threw the gear into drive and squealed my tires in my rush to get away from the house I had lived most of my life in.
My parents had moved.
They were gone.
And they had never told me.
I hastily wiped away the betraying wetness that appeared to be leaking out of my eyes.
Fuck this shit. This is why I never wanted to come back to Bakersville. There was nothing for me here.
My parents had made sure of that.
Vivian had made sure of that.
I had no friends. No band. No family.
All I had was the career Jose said I could have.
So I kept driving and driving. Hoping when I stopped I could make the decision I needed to.
“What are you doing here?”
I sat in my car, outside a rundown brick building in an old industrial park on the far side of town. My head was definitely somewhere else today.
Otherwise, why would I have driven to Generation Rejects’ rehearsal space?
Garrett looked down at me from my open window.
I shook my head, gripping my steering wheel. “I don’t really know,” was all I said.
Garrett stared at me for a long time. I was losing my shit. That’s the only excuse for what I was doing there.
After a while he tapped his hand on the roof of my car and nodded his head toward the building. “Well, while you’re here, come help me load up some stuff.”
And then he walked off.
I should go. I sure as shit didn’t want to be anywhere near Garrett fucking Bellows and his judgey condemnation.
So why did I find myself climbing out of my car and following him inside.
The place had been gutted. We had cleaned out most of our equipment when we went on the road. The only thing left was an extra drum kit, an ancient half stack and a few mic stands. Garrett had already stacked up some chairs and pushed the nasty couch off to the side.
I was relieved to see that he was alone.
“What are you doing?” I asked, watching as he started to wind up old cables and put them on top of the half stack.
“I’ve got a dude coming by to clear out everything and bring it back to the house. No sense paying rent for a space we never use.”
I didn’t say anything. After a few minutes Garrett gave me a dry look. “Don’t just stand there like a limp dick, go and start breaking down the drum kit,” he ordered.
Instead of bristling like I would have only a week ago, I did as he told me to. We worked in silence, packing up the remnants of our history.
“Where are Mitch and Jordan?” I asked.
“Jordan’s with Maysie and Mitch is with that Sophie chick he started seeing. So I was stuck doing this myself,” Garrett said.
“Well it’s a good thing I came along then,” I tried to joke but my words sounded flat.
Garrett didn’t say anything. I twisted off the bolts and put them in a pile, carefully taking apart the cymbals and laying them off to the side.
“I went out to my parents’ place,” I found myself saying. Garrett looked over at me in surprise.
“You did?” he asked, twisting the mic stand and collapsing it.
I picked up the snare and put it beside the cymbals. “Yeah. Someone else lives there now.”
Garrett stopped what he was doing and came over. He bent down and picked up the bolts and put them in a Tupperware container. “Wow, that’s some shit. I’m guessing they didn’t tell you they were moving.”
I shook my head. “Fuck no. I haven’t talked to those bastards in years,” I said gruffly, trying to hide how much it hurt. But Garrett saw right through me.
“That sucks, man. I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.
“Yeah, well what are you gonna do?” I brushed it off like it didn’t matter. But it did. A lot.
“Do you know where they went?” Garrett asked, picking up the dissassembled drums and carrying them over to the half stack. I followed with the rest of the kit.
“No. And I don’t care either. Fuck them!” I said with enough vehemence to be convincing.
Garrett glanced at me and smiled. “Yeah, fuck them,” he agreed.
We finished breaking the leftover equipment down. “This stuff will be picked up in the morning. I say we’re done here. You want to go get a beer?” Garrett asked, surprising me.
“Sure,” I said.
We walked to the Appleby’s down the road and sat down at the bar. Garrett ordered a pitcher of beer.
“Thanks for the help,” he said after the bartender left to get our order.
“Yeah, sure. You should have called if you needed help,” I said, knowing how stupid that was. Particularly with how he and I had left things.
But Garrett didn’t say anything about that. He just nodded as if I was right.
“How’ve you been?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Been better. You?”
“’Bout the same,” he answered as the bartender brought our pitcher and mugs.
We poured ourselves a beer. Garrett grabbed a handful of peanuts and threw them in his mouth, watching the television screen playing a basketball game in the corner.
“I know you think we’re holding you back. And maybe you’re right. I’ve thought a lot about shit since Sunday and I think you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do,” he said suddenly.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.
Garrett shrugged, taking his eyes off the TV to look at me. “You and me, we’ve been friends for a long time. And I know you wouldn’t purposefully fuck us over.”
I laughed humorlessly. “Where was this sage wisdom when you were telling me what a dick I was?”
Garrett’s mouth twisted into a sad smile. “I was pissed. You played that damn song when I didn’t want you to. I wasn’t thinking clearly. None of us were. But I’ve had a few days to calm down. And with everything going on, I think we’ve been pretty unfair to you.”
I downed half of my beer. “And do the others agree with you?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Garrett shrugged again. “I doubt it. But Jordan is a hothead, just as you are. And Mitch will go along with whatever Jordan says. That doesn’t mean you weren’t an asshole, because you were. What you did was wrong. But we should never have walked off that stage. And we should never have accused you of trying to push us out. It wasn’t cool. We all have to take some accountability for getting to where we are.”
I didn’t know what to say. This didn’t fix everything that had gone wrong, but I started to feel a whole lot better.
“I think it’s just sad that after everything we’ve been through, it’s going to end over something so fucking stupid. For nothing.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Because we had messed up big time.
“But you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, Cole. And at the end of the day, I’ll still be here if you need me.”
And that was exactly what I neede
d to hear.
Garrett finished his beer and slid his empty mug down the bar. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and got to his feet.
“Thanks again for your help. I’ll see you soon, all right?”
I could only nod as he tossed some cash on the bar and with a nod, walked out.
The guy with the least to say always had been the one to make me think the most.
And he had given me something I desperately needed.
Some perspective.
It was Saturday night and I was home. By myself.
There was something almost criminal about that.
But lately I wasn’t fit for human interaction. I was moody and prone to irrational outbursts of the colorful language variety. Gracie asked innocently whether I liked her new shoes.
I adored them. They were fabulous and pink and with hot heels that made her legs go on for miles.
But I was suffering from a raging case of crotch face so instead of being the supportive friend, I told her I didn’t care about her stupidly awesome footwear. I had then proceeded to tell her to leave me the fuck alone.
I had stomped off to my room, slammed the door dramatically and then promptly turned around and apologized.
Gracie inquired as to whether Aunt Flo was visiting.
It was a legit question.
But Bitch McGee (that would be me) took offense and stomped off to my room again.
The rest of my week hadn’t been much better. I was short-tempered and emotional. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going.
And I blamed Cole Brandt completely.
This is what happened when I spent time with him. I lost all sense of rational thinking. I became a mess of epic proportions.
I was a flipping psychopath!
It got so bad that Marion had asked, somewhat hesitantly, if I was coming down with something.
I was coming down with something all right. It was called Can’t-Get-Over-A-Man-itis. The main symptoms involved spending an inordinate amount of time wallowing and feeling sorry for yourself.
I should have felt a renewed sense of power! I had put my foot down and not had sex with Cole when he was being all sweet and gorgeous-like.
I had told him what I thought and held firm.
So why was I feeling all sad and depressed with random outbursts of uncontrollable rage?
Seductive Chaos Page 22
