Bad Moon
Jackie Sexton
Smashwords Edition
All Rights Reserved ©2013 Jackie Sexton. First Printing: 2013.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Author’s Note: All characters that engage in adult situations in this story are 18 years of age and older.
Bad Moon
Jackie Sexton
Table of Contents
1 Chapter 1
2 Chapter 2
3 Chapter 3
4 Chapter 4
5 About Jackie Sexton
6 Exclusive Preview: Bad Moon
Chapter 1
I have always been a bigger girl. My mother said a healthy girl ‘necesita comer!’ (has to eat), and well, it didn't hurt that her culinary flair produced far too many delicious tacos. It caused for many satisfied nights after dinner, sitting with my pants undone and sighing on the couch, but it didn’t do much for those dreadful follow-up mornings in front of the mirror, remembering that I didn’t have my mother’s olive skin complexion or her otherworldly ability to store all her fat in her breasts.
I was the Pillsbury Doughboy incarnate, with a smattering of freckles across my nose and dull brown, reckless curls.
That's why it really stung when Jason, my boyfriend of nine months, said to me before my epic summer journey cross country, "hopefully when you get back you'll be a little lighter!" with a flippant chuckle. I fought the tears in my eyes and picked up my bags, mumbling "good bye," as I headed over to the back of the beat-up old van.
"What's wrong?" Sierra asked me, tapping my arm gently. Her beautiful hazel eyes, smattered with honey around the iris and rimmed with green, scanned my face, deep with genuine concerned. I sighed. There was no way to lie to one of my greatest friends and the person I had been living with for the past four years, but I didn’t want to start off the first day of my trip being lectured about how awful my taste in men was.
“Nothing...just going to miss Jason,” I said, giving her a weak smile.
“Hmm,” she said, trying not to betray her emotions even though I was painfully aware of how much she hated Jason. “Well...maybe you’ll find someone else to keep you company on the trip...someone you’ve known all along, but never realized how much he meant to you...” she said wistfully, dramatically turning her gaze up to the sky. I gave her a small punch in the arm and a severe look. But before I could think up a snappy retort, Trent came up behind her, snaking an arm around her shoulder casually and giving me a lopsided grin. He looked between the two of us expectantly.
“Speak of the devil,” Sierra laughed, giving me a knowing look.
“You guys are talking about me?” Trent said, cocking up an inquisitive brow. I tensed, instantly cursing Sierra in my mind.
“No,” I rushed. “I was just saying that I was going to miss Jason.”
“Yeah, and how much we all hate him, you included.” Oh how I wanted to wipe that smirk off Sierra’s face just then.
“Oh yeah, that guy. He sucks,” Trent nodded, a hard, dull look coming over his gorgeous steel gray eyes as he looked over to my boyfriend. “Bye, dude,” he called out to him with a slight head nod.
Jason looked up from his phone and waved, giving us a half smile before returning his gaze to the little screen in his hands, furiously typing into it.
“See?” the smile returned to his face. “All he does is text.”
“He’s a business man,” I said haughtily, putting my hands on my hips. It was hard hearing from the two friends I had had since third grade, the ones who I traded Pokémon cards with and made mud pies to bathe our cats in (still not proud of that), that the guy I had invested nearly a year’s time in was a dud.
“Yeah, so he’s the next Mark Zuckerberg,” Sierra said with a roll of her eyes. Trent chuckled.
“Okay, we’re done talking about this,” I said, picking up my bags from the ground again and hefting them to the car. “Thanks for the design work,” I huffed back at Sierra. She followed me to the trunk of the van, pouting.
“Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye to your best friend,” she said, helping me shove my bags on top of the others, adjacent from all the instruments and equipment. “You know I just want what’s best for you.”
“I know,” I sighed, turning to her once my bags were settled in the trunk. “And I love you too. Come here,” I said, opening my arms to envelope her small frame inside of them.
“I wish I could come with you guys,” she said as she pulled away, a wistful gleam in her hazel eyes.
“You still can!” I reminded her. “We can squeeze you in the back, you can be my assistant manager/roadie!” I was half-joking, but it was still a really nice idea.
“Maybe next time. If only I didn’t have to repeat that stupid stat course,” she groaned with a roll of her eyes. I patted her lovely red hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. It was hard graduating without her. I had expected that we would achieve every milestone together, the three amigos, all for one and one for all. But her mathematical challenges combined with Trent’s total disinterest in school left me alone in that frumpy black cap and gown that day, wishing I could be with them in the stands instead of in that hot sea of impatient graduates in the pit of that giant convention center.
“Well, we’ll still see you in Atlanta, right?” I said, giving her hand a final squeeze.
“Right,” she nodded, squeezing my hand back. “Now go kick ass as the best band manager ever,” she said, throwing her arms around me one last time. I squeezed her as tightly as I could, realizing that it was the longest time I would be without her since I graduated college.
“Also,” she mumbled in my ear before pulling away to give my outfit a disapproving glance. “That leather jacket is ridiculous. It’s over ninety degrees right now.”
“Now go before I change my mind and take you back,” she said with a mock-threatening look.
I laughed as I pulled opened up the van's side door and plopped down next to our lead guitarist, Marin.
"Ready?" he asked me, giving me a grin as I buckled my seat belt. "Ms. Goodie-two-shoes?"
"Hey, if we get pulled over I'm not helping you with the ticket," I said, snapping the belt proudly against my ample chest. Martin chuckled and shook his head, causing his dirty blonde mop to flop over his eyes. I had known Martin since middle school but we became friends in high school, when he and Trent started playing guitar together. It was then that they started their first band (SoFlying), and I had my first management gig, getting them little shows at punk venues and alternative coffee shops throughout South Florida. I was good at it and I liked it, so when Trent asked me to manage his new band, Bad Moon, I was totally in, even if I didn't know the other two guys, Nick and Brandon. While Nick was still a mystery to me, little more than the Rastafarian in the corner of parties smoking weed and banging on anything that could make a beat, Brandon was so outgoing and flamboyant that I couldn’t help but fall for his eccentric charm.
"God, look at them. Doesn't it make you want to puke?" Martin said, nodding his head to the view out the window on my side, where Trent and his girlfriend, Lola, were passionately kissing goodbye.
"Oh, not really," I said as my heart sank a little in my chest.
'He's always been a really good friend, and that's it,' I reminded myself. It was easy to forget about the massive crush I had on Trent in high school, but it was times like these where I relapsed.
"Come on, sh
e totally sucks. She's a soul sucker," Martin said, waggling his fingers in front of his face like a magician. I laughed. Most of Trent's friends hated Lola, but I tried to remain neutral, especially since I felt like my dislike of her stemmed from a place I really didn't want to revisit. It was that sad, woe-is-me-I-hate-myself place. But really, it was hard not to feel that way when she was kind of everything I wasn't. Thin, blonde, and absolutely in control of every situation. When she walked into the room all eyes were on her, and she made sure of it. To be fair, it was kind of impossible not to look at her, with the pink highlights framing her face and the belly-ring on her constantly showing midriff.
It also kind of sucked that Trent was everything I wanted in a guy: tall, lean, with broad shoulders and a shock of black hair that constantly fell over his eyes, giving him that illusive hint-of-mystery vibe. It made me really uncomfortable to admit it, but part of me felt like I developed my "type" of guy completely off of him, which made a lot of sense since I had known him for so long.
Trent pulled away from his pouting fiancée after what felt like an eternity, and he hopped into the passenger's seat next to Nick who was in the driver’s seat. "Alright, let's do this!" Trent shouted, looking back to the rest of us and pumping his fist in the air. We all cheered in return, except for Brandon who was in the very back, lying on the bench seat with a blanket over his face.
"Shut up!" he growled. We laughed at him, teasing him and calling him names, and I took one last look out the window, giving a weak wave to Jason as the van tore out of our apartment complex, heading for the highway. He still had the stupid phone glued to his hand.
'If he doesn't change by the time I get back, I'll dump him. I swear,' I promised myself.
"Speaking of bad dates—" Martin cocked an eyebrow up at me, as if he had read my mind. He more than anyone knew how much Jason teased me about my weight, thanks to my babbling drunk mouth at a party a few months ago.
"Hey, if you're looking for one I'll set you up," I said, giving him a warning glare. I didn't want anyone else to know about my love life issues. Martin just shook his head and scrolled through his phone, looking for someone else to bother, I was sure.
I watched the passing cars and smiled as the guys blasted Fun Aim’s latest album. They were the headliners in Orlando and they guys were stoked to be playing with them. Nodding my head along to the energetic pulse of rock n’ roll blasting from the speakers, I smiled to myself. This was going to be the best summer of my life, and I wasn't about to let anything get in the way of that.
Chapter 2
We arrived in Orlando only several hours after starting our trip, pulling into the grimy motel parking lot. We were an hour behind schedule because Brandon’s GPS decided to take us on some strange detour through the backwoods of Florida.
“It’s avoiding tolls!” Brandon kept insisting.
I winced at the broken sign of the motel, hanging vertically instead of horizontally by the grace of a single chain, and Martin nudged me, flashing a mischievous grin.
"Great place you picked out, manager."
"Hey," I nudged back, slightly embarrassed. The pictures online were way better. They must have been very outdated or something. "You guys didn't give me a great budget to work with or anything."
"It is really gross," Brandon said, wrinkling his nose at me.
"God, stop being such a diva. It'll be fine!" Brandon could be pretty high maintenance, but he was right. This place was borderline decrepit, with dirt-covered walls and over grown bushes threatening to consume the cars in the parking lot. I had a feeling this would be the first of many creepy hotels we would be staying at.
“It’s chill,” Nick said, nodding his head as he scanned the premise. Of course he would say that, Nick found everything chill.
“Well maybe it’s just rough-looking,” I said, trying to stay optimistic.
Once we got out of the van it didn’t take long for us to realize it wasn’t just “rough-looking,” it was rough period. It turned out it was an extended stay type place, and we could hear loud music and hints of weed wafting through the air. Nick seemed to be in heaven.
"You guys wait here," I said.
"Where are you going?" Martin said, raising an eyebrow.
"Well all five of us can't go to check in. I said it was a room for two. It's cheaper that way," I said, frustrated. "Guys, I can do this myself it's not like I haven't been to a hotel before."
"Sweetie..." Brandon started. In the short time that I knew Brandon, I decided he was the only person in the world aside from my Aunt Cheryl who could call me sweetie. He was just endearing that way. "You shouldn't be walking around alone in this place because we’re really not familiar with the area," he pointed out.
"I guess you're right," I grumbled, sad that my new leather jacket didn't qualify me as enough of a badass to stalk the back alleys of Orlando.
"I'll go with you," Trent said, pushing his body off the grimy wall. "But you can do all the boring paperwork," he gave me a small wink.
"Thanks," I said sarcastically. We walked down the side of the creepy, puke-yellow hotel, wading through the humid Florida air. Even nighttime was awful and sticky. I couldn't wait to be somewhere that made me shiver at night. Somewhere where my leather jacket would actually be necessary, even in the summer. We passed by a group of young college guys, probably several years younger than ourselves, guzzling down forties against the wall outside their hotel room. I moved to the side, trying to avoid stepping over their sprawled out legs.
"Hey baby," one called out crudely, causing the others to snigger. "That's one big ass you got there."
A wave of hot shame came over me, immediately causing tears to well up in my eyes. I balled my fists closed, digging my finger nails into my palms as I tried to calm the pain pushing up against my eyelids. It’s so dumb how sensitive I can be about stupid stuff like this, and even in that moment I knew it. If someone were to insult my intelligence, I would just laugh. If someone told me I was a bad person, I wouldn't even give them a second glance. In every other instance where someone could try to cut me down, I was a very logical, reasonable person. I prided myself on being in control. But when it came to my looks and my size, well that’s different. That’s were the hot button is.
I didn't even have time to react before Trent turned around and, in a flash, gripped the boy by his shirt and pulled him up against the grimy wall. The kid looked terrified as the white collar of his shirt cut into the back and side of his neck. I gasped in horror, recognizing the hot flash in Trent’s eyes. It was hard and inhuman, like a wild beast was trying to break through.
I had seen that look only twice before. The second time was when his sister came home crying because a boy at school kept touching her ass in the hallways. The other time, the first time, was when he was in the hospital after a terrible camping accident. The look in his eyes was so hard and cold that I remember praying that I would never have to see it again.
And here we were, Trent seconds away from killing this idiot guy, and me, ready to bolt for the hotel room and hide under the covers until morning.
"Did you say something?" Trent's normally playful voice was completely livid, tense with cut-throat anger.
The guy just opened his mouth and shut it, making strange noises like he couldn't think of a damn thing to say.
"That's what I thought," Trent said, inches from his face before throwing him down to the floor.
And then he just turned around. Just like that. He turned on his heel and continued on his way, leaving my sorry ass to gape for a few moments. The boy made eye contact with me, and his eyes were wide with shock and terror. His friends were chiding out things to the tune of, "whoa, bro!" But he wasn't even listening. I quickly looked away and ran to catch up with the long strides of Trent's legs. I was about to say something, but like the poor kid on the floor, I couldn't think of anything to say.
"Um...thanks," I finally managed, my cheeks heating at the thought that I still needed a savior
from bullies at twenty-two. It wasn't that I wasn't grateful, but it was pretty humiliating for your fat ass to be pointed out in front of someone you once had a major crush one.
"Yeah," was all Trent said, his eyes trained before him. Thankfully, we reached the office before long, and we rang ourselves in with the sketchy buzzer. Even the desk inside was behind a wall of bulletproof glass.
"Great," I mumbled.
A nice, middle-aged Indian woman was sitting there and she handed me some paperwork to fill out. "You are married?" she asked us.
"Oh God no," was the immediate response from my lips. I looked at Trent to exchange an amused glance with him, but I realized he must still be angry because his face lacked any expression. "I mean, no. We're just friends."
"Okay. So, two beds?" she asked with a smile.
"Yes please," I mumbled, working quickly to finish the stupid paperwork and be out of there.
"So, 'God no,' huh?" Trent said once we got the keys and were out in the corridor.
I turned to apologize but soon saw the amused grin on his face and rolled my eyes.
"I always thought I'd make a great husband."
"I'd say you're more like the older brother protector type," I said, recalling his actions with a small wince. Still, I was glad that he was joking again. It let me breathe easier.
"Well what I can I say," he flashed me a smile, the dim light bouncing off his blindingly white teeth. I could see that his good humor was returning to him. "You're like the little sister I never had."
"But...you have three," I pointed out.
"Exactly. They suck. You're the cool one I never had."
I laughed and shook my head. I gave a small wave to the guys before us and flashed the key. They all cheered, and Martin tossed one of Nick’s drumstick up in the air and caught it in celebration.
"Alright, alright, settle down. We have time to get our stuff up but we need to get our butts over to The Moon like immediately after. We are running an hour behind,” I said, giving Brandon a dirty look. He scowled at me but I stood akimbo, letting them know I wasn't messing around. This was their first gig, and it was going to be a success if it killed me.
Bad Moon (BBW Paranormal Romance) Page 1
