by Lisa Suzanne
“Excuse me?”
He shakes his head. “Just a little cold after the way you kissed me last night.”
“The way I kissed you?” I ask, my voice inappropriately loud for the quiet area, but we’re alone.
He barks out a snide laugh. “Yeah. And in front of all those people.” He shakes his head in disapproval.
“Guess you don’t have to play nice since Mark’s not here to set you straight,” I say, pinning him with a glare.
“Ouch. You always this bitchy?”
“You always this much of an asshole?” I shoot back.
“Pretty much. Except when Mark whips me into shape.” He says it factually, not jokingly like I’d expect. I wonder how often Mark needs to keep him in line. Probably more than I’d think now that Ethan is the lone single guy in Vail.
“Leave me alone,” I say. “I’m here to relax, and you’re causing me undue stress.”
“I’m here to relax too. Did you order the happy ending?” He grins darkly. “I did.”
I roll my eyes. “They don’t do that here.”
The door opens and a voluptuous woman with long, wavy, blonde locks calls Ethan’s name. He winks at me. “Wanna bet?”
He stands and follows her out the door, and I can’t help but feel about a thousand times more stressed than when I first walked in the door.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ETHAN
It wasn’t my finest moment, but I don’t like what she’s doing to me. I wanted to scrub the thought of Maci from my mind, so I led her to believe I was going to fuck the hot chick massaging me.
The truth of the matter is I haven’t fucked anyone since before I went to Chicago for Christmas.
This streak has got to end, but for some reason, I need it to end with me inside Maci.
I don’t understand it, but she calls to me on some spiritual level. It’s like she’s got that thread my sister talked about, the one I don’t believe in, the one I thought Dani held…only there’s a million snags and knots threatening to tear our fragile thread in two.
All this from a single kiss and a few short conversations. I have got to get this woman the fuck out of my system.
After my massage, which in the end wasn’t all that relaxing, I head over to the gym. Some physical activity will surely work out whatever the hell this is.
I choose a treadmill, pop in my earbuds, and run until my legs are on fire.
But none of it helps me forget.
Probably because her goddamn voice is in my ears the entire time as I listen to “Break Me” on repeat and prepare for her to do her worst to me.
*
Mark and I used to hit the tables together before an appearance in Vegas, but tonight he just wanted to stay in.
I couldn’t mask my surprise when he texted me that he wanted to fucking stay in, so I call him from my hotel room after I finish eating with some of my Vegas buddies to talk some goddamn sense into him.
I start in on him as soon as he answers the phone. “Are you fucking kidding me? Did you get married or did you turn eighty?”
“Fuck off, Ethan.” His voice through the phone sounds far away. “Reese has been having some nausea and I just want to be here to take care of her.”
I stare out the window as I try to contemplate what happened to my friend. “Are you skipping out on the appearance, too?”
“Pen would kill me, so no, I’ll meet you there.”
“Fine,” I say, and I hang up in disgust before he can get in another word.
I head over early with Chuck. Our appearance is at a club at one of the huge hotels on the strip, and I’m ready to blow through a wad of cash tonight. Chuck ushers me to the high stakes area, but not before I’m stopped for autographs as I make my way through the casino. I sign every item congenially even though my emotions inside are a whirling mass of confusion.
I act like the assclown I am as I pretend to hump some ladies who are obviously older than seventeen while they shoot selfies with me. I smile in some photos, throw up my devil horn fingers in others, stick out my tongue in still others.
I finally give Chuck the signal—a quick glance and nod imperceptible by anyone other than him—and he helps usher me toward the tables, where I’m lucky enough to have a host who calls additional security to give me some privacy.
I love my life. Honestly, I do. Considering where I came from and the shit I climbed out of to reach the top, I’m proud of everything I’ve accomplished and I wouldn’t trade what I have for anything.
But every once in a while, I’d love to walk into a casino and sit at a table and not have scores of fans throwing shit at me and requesting photographs and asking for my signature.
I’m in a bad mood again, and I think it’s because I haven’t had sex in so long.
That and my body is fucking sore after the shit I did on the treadmill earlier.
And fucking Maci Dane keeps infecting my brain like a fatal disease.
I focus on the cards as I toss down an orange poker chip worth a grand. I get a six and the dealer gets an ace. He checks his card and flips over a blackjack on my first goddamn hand.
He rakes in my thousand dollars, and I toss out another orange chip.
I lose again. And again…and a few more times.
I’m the lone player at the table, so this time I try playing two hands with the hope I’ll get the dealer’s better cards on at least one of my hands.
I lose on both.
I’m ten grand in the hole after all of sixty seconds at this table, and I’m about to get up when I win my first hand.
I’m certain my luck is changing, so I push more money onto the table.
I win a little, lose a little, go back to even, and lose a little more when Chuck nudges me. “Mark’s waiting.”
He’s a man of few words, but they’re always important ones.
“He can wait a little longer,” I say, my focus on the cards in front of me. I win another hand, and I know I need to get going. Mark will be waiting, and we have a professional obligation tonight. I shouldn’t be late, but fuck it all, I want to win. I shove out ten grand on one hand. It’ll be my final one for the night, and I’m either going to win big or lose big before I head to the appearance.
The dealer has a six and I have a ten, so I double down.
The dealer turns over a five for me, so I have a total of fifteen. My heart squeezes as I realize I have twenty thousand dollars on the table. I have money in the bank, but this is still more than just a drop in the hat. It’s flat-out dumb. Mark’s dad works in finances, and he taught me better than this. Tonight, though, I don’t care. It’s making me feel something inside my chest other than a constant, burning need for Maci, and that’s all that matters in the moment.
The dealer turns over a four with his six. I need him to have a six or smaller.
It’s an eight.
A stupid, goddamn, motherfucking eight.
He rakes in my twenty Gs and I wave my hand to let the dealer know I’m calling it a night. All in all, I’m down forty thousand, a terrible night of gambling paired with the terrible pit in my stomach that I could’ve done something more constructive with my time tonight—like call up Maci and get to know her.
Instead, though, I acted like an idiot, and now I have to make an appearance with that on my conscience.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MACI
When I’m finally ready to board my bus the next morning a little after eleven, Griff’s waiting outside my hotel room door. “Ready for your bus tour?” he asks. He’s bouncing with excitement and caffeine, and I just woke up an hour ago—long enough to shower and make myself presentable in case I might run into Ethan.
My sunglasses are perched on my nose, but it doesn’t do much to disguise me. We take a service elevator down to the first floor and Griff leads me through a series of hallways. Eventually we end up in the bus lot, and I follow Griff to a ginormous white bus that’ll be my home for the next couple months. We step on, and
it’s surprisingly perfect.
The first thing I notice is the calming lavender scent. Griff does know me well.
The forward cabin is bright white everywhere, from the leather seating to the table big enough to seat four to the countertops, sink, and appliances. Pink lights glow from behind various surfaces and a few light pink decorations soften the harshness of all the white. A small white desk sits in one corner, just the perfect size for me to sit and write, and a fluffy white curtain separates the bunks from where we stand.
“Follow me,” Griff says. He takes me through the bunks that are also white with white curtains, points out the general use bathroom, and finally takes me to the master bedroom. A huge bed takes up the entire back portion of the bus, and it’s made up with fluffy white blankets and pink pillows. The bedroom has a private master bath attached to it with a nice big counter where I can sit and get ready. Everything I need is here. I open one of the drawers, and all my make-up sits in there, perfectly arranged.
“Nice work, Griff,” I say.
He grins, his expression boyish and excited. I feel like shit for the conversation we’re about to have, but I can’t think of a way around it. I suppose I could let it wait a bit, but I think I need to just get it over with before he propositions me with sex on my brand new fluffy white blankets.
“Can we talk a sec?” I ask.
He nods, and we head back out to the forward cabin. An older man I’ve never seen before stands there, and I’m momentarily scared someone could so easily get onto my bus. He has a gut on him that tells me I could probably take him in a fight if it came down to it, but the kind brown eyes behind his glasses tell me I probably won’t need to worry about that.
“I’m Tony,” he says. “I’ll be your driver for this tour.”
I blow out a sigh of relief. “Nice to meet you, Tony. I’m Maci.”
“I know who you are.” He smiles. “My granddaughters love your music.”
“How old are they?” I ask.
“Twelve and fifteen.”
I shake my head and purse my lips. “They shouldn’t be listening.”
He laughs. “That’s what I told their mom.”
I can’t help my giggle at his honesty.
“At least she buys them the clean versions.”
“Remind me to send you home with a bunch of shit for them.”
Tony winks at me, and I suddenly love the idea of having a father figure on this tour with me. “You got it, ma’am. I signed the NDA, but is there anything else I need to know?”
I shake my head. “All the legal shit was in that document. You don’t see anything and you don’t hear anything.”
He nods. “Got it. I’m deaf and blind to anything behind the driver’s seat. I promise to get you safely to each of your events.” He reaches his hand out to shake mine, but I bat his hand out of the way and give him a hug.
“Thanks, Tony.”
His lips tip up in a smile and his eyes shift to Griff, who finally speaks up. “Johnny Griffin. Manager-slash-bodyguard-slash-personal assistant. You need anything from her, come to me first.”
“Griff, be nice,” I say, smiling at Tony. Truth be told, Griff’s just regurgitating what I’ve told him to say, but Tony seems different. “Tony, I’ll leave my number on the dashboard for you. You need anything, you use it.”
He nods. “Thank you. I appreciate that. I’ve got a meeting with the other drivers, but we should be on the road in the next hour.”
He excuses himself to his meeting and I motion to the table for Griffin to sit.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asks.
I slide into the chair across from him, folding one leg under me. It gives me a few inches of height on him, and for some reason, I like the power position it puts me in. I fold my hands in front of me and focus my eyes on my thumbs when I speak.
“The sex has to stop.” I blurt it out because I don’t know what else to say. I glance up at him to catch his reaction, but his expression remains passive.
“You’re my manager and my friend and a whole lot more. You’re the only person who is always there for me, who knows every aspect and angle of my career. I can’t continue when I know it means more to you than it does to me.”
I don’t mean to hurt him, but his passiveness slips briefly into sadness at my words.
“I understand,” he says.
“Do you remember what we did the morning after the first time we slept together?” I ask. We sat together and watched the movie The Bodyguard. I told him that would never be us—that I’d never fall for him, and he wasn’t allowed to fall for me, either.
A flash of pain passes through his eyes as he winces. “Yeah. I remember.”
“You went back on the promise.”
He shakes his head. “There’s one main difference.”
I raise a brow. “What’s that?”
“You didn’t fall back.”
“I kept my end of the deal. I can’t mix—” I cut myself off, because I’m about to say I can’t mix business with pleasure. That isn’t exactly true if I’m going to pursue Ethan. I correct my phrasing. “I can’t get mixed up with you. I love you, Griff, but I love you as the person I depend on most in the world. I have feelings for someone else, and I want to pursue that.”
“Who?” he challenges.
It’s not his business, but he’ll find out soon enough anyway.
“Ethan Fuller.”
He rolls his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“He fucks anything that moves, Maci.”
I wiggle my fingers to make a point. “Then I’ve got a shot, don’t I?”
He shakes his head. “He nails and bails exclusively.”
“That’s just because he hasn’t had me yet.” I say it flippantly, as if one night with me will change his entire life. I haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to pull this off yet. I’ve been told I’m a good lay, but good enough to land Ethan? Doubtful. I don’t know if anyone has that kind of prowess.
Griff laughs. “I just don’t want to see you set yourself up to get hurt.”
I smile darkly at him. “I know what I’m doing.” Sort of.
He lifts a shoulder. “If you say so. Either way, I love you. I understand you need to do what you need to do and that doesn’t include me anymore.”
“Thank you for understanding.” I don’t deserve you. I refrain from speaking those words even though they’re true. “I need to get some words down. I woke up with some ideas.”
“That’s great, boss.”
“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.”
He shrugs and holds up his hands in mock innocence, and I roll my eyes before I head to the bedroom to grab my laptop and a pad of paper out of one of my bags. When I emerge from the bedroom into the forward cabin, Mark Ashton stands on my bus.
“Sweet digs,” he says, glancing around. “Much cleaner than the bus I used to share with Ethan.” He laughs at his own joke.
I lift a shoulder and ignore Griff’s presence. He worked hard to make this perfect for me, but I’m feigning nonchalance in front of the lead singer of the headlining band on this tour. “It’ll do.”
“Do you have a minute?” he asks.
I nod. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk to you about collaborating. After last night, I think we could make something fucking crazy together.”
“I don’t know, Mark,” I say, hesitance hedging my words. I’d be crazy to say no, but there are always logistics to think about.
“Vick and Griffin can work out the details, but I wrote a duet about a year ago and I’d love for you to take a look at it.” He holds out a sheet of paper, and I take it from him.
“I’ll read it over and let you know.” I grip the paper tightly in an attempt to mask the fact that my hands are shaking right now.
“I also wanted to invite you to join us for our closing song again tomorrow night. If it goes as well as last n
ight, I’m thinking we can make it a permanent thing.”
My heart races. “You want me to join you for your closing song again?” I ask.
“Maci, the crowd went fucking insane. They loved it. My wife couldn’t stop raving about it, and she’s my compass.”
She’s my compass. My heart flutters at his words—it’s not even lyrics, just a man talking, yet he says it with such passion it almost feels like a song. “Are you sure you want me there? It’s your closing. It should be about you. Vail. Last night was just because of New Year’s Eve, something special.”
He shakes his head. “It’s about music. It’s about life and love, and it’s about having fun. And I had a lot of fun up there with you.”
“I did, too,” I admit. I don’t mention it was also fun sharing a kiss with Ethan, though the unwelcome thought drifts through my mind. Fun isn’t the right word. Or, at least it shouldn’t be the right word.
If you’d have told a fifteen-year-old me that in eighteen years Mark Ashton would be a multi-platinum performer and he’d be inviting me into a collaboration with him and Ethan, I’d have said you were fucking crazy. Yet here it is: my moment to share the spotlight with two boys I’ve idolized for two decades, one who I’ve loved and hated then hated some more.
I hold the paper with his lyrics up in the air. “I’ll look it over and get back to you.”
He nods. “See you in Phoenix in a few hours—hopefully with good news.”
I smile and he leaves, and then I sit at the table. Griffin opens his mouth to speak, but I glare at him pointedly and he shuts up.
I glance at the paper in front of me. The title sticks out at me first. The Best Revenge.
My heart squeezes in my chest. Does he somehow know? I read the lyrics.
(Male Part)
You stabbed me in the back
Took the wheels off the track
You were supposed to be my number one
But all our progress came undone
The best revenge is getting her back
You can’t tempt me into attack
Not again, again, again
(Together)
The best revenge is sweet victory
When one and one are meant to be
