King of Bad: A YA Rock Star Romance (Kings of Karmichael Book 4)

by RH Tucker

  26

  Cece

  I don’t hear anything. Or feel anything. I know I leave the backstage area, but I don’t really remember how I got where I am now. Standing in my elevator, on the way up to our apartment. Taken by surprise? Blindsided? Stunned? None of those things accurately describes what I was feeling listening to Maddox tell me … I don’t even know what he was telling me. That’s how much at a loss for words I am.

  I kept a guard up in the beginning until he convinced me that he wasn’t what everyone says he is. But when my guard came down, I believed him. I trusted him. I almost wish I would’ve walked in on him kissing whoever that girl was, rather than him telling me what he did. Explaining it to me only means he knew exactly what he was doing the entire time. It never seemed like it was all an act. I believed that was the “real Maddox” like he kept telling me.

  I’m so dumbstruck that by the time I get into the apartment, I just stand in the doorway. I haven’t closed the door in the dark living room, so a beeping echoes in the lightless, soundless room.

  Beep. Beep.

  How could he do this? How could I believe him? Why is this happening?

  Beep. Beep.

  Was it all an act? Did he really go out with me, meet my family, and act like he wanted something more from me just as a game? Is that all this was to him?

  Beep. Beep.

  And why now? Does he think he’s already made enough progress for whatever sick game he was playing that he’s calling it quits early? Did he think I’ll eventually see through it all and call him out?

  Beep. Beep.

  “Miss Mavin?” Esme’s words are like a shock to the system. Looking up, she tightens a robe around herself, then hurries over, shutting the door behind me. “Miss Mavin, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you at the club?”

  I don’t know if it’s the concern I hear in her voice or that she’s the first person who’s checking on me. Whatever the reason, the dam holding back all of the dumbfounded questions breaks, and I wrap my arms around her, letting out a sob.

  “Miss Mavin?” Her soft words float around me as her arms hold me up. “Miss Mavin, what’s wrong?” I can’t answer her. I clench my eyes tighter, not wanting to think about any of it anymore. “Come, come.”

  She ushers me toward my room. Once inside, I fall to my bed, grab my pillow, and cry myself to sleep. When I wake up the next morning, I pull the blankets over me tighter. For a moment, I don’t remember last night, but it’s gone by the time I blink twice. The shock, the confusion, and the sadness all come rushing back.

  I fall back asleep and don’t wake up until I hear a knock at my door, Esme peeking her head inside. “Miss Mavin, you should get up now.” I don’t answer her. “Cecelia, what happened?”

  Her use of my name is enough for me to poke my head out from under the covers. Esme never calls Sebastian or me by just our first name; it’s as jarring as when my mom or dad says my full name when I’ve gotten in trouble in the past. Miss Mavin or Mr. Sebastian is always what she calls us.

  She stands at the edge of my bed, still in her proper attire, but a concerned demeanor.

  “I’m so stupid, Esme.”

  “Arrête!” she scolds me in French. “Do not say things like that. You are not.”

  “I am!” I counter, shaking my head at myself. “I thought—” The words choke off. The memories hit me like a bus traveling fifty miles per hour. Swallowing down the emotion, I blink away the tears. “I thought this guy—”

  “Hein? A boy? Crying over a boy is no good, Miss Mavin.”

  I know she’s right, but I still feel the pain from last night. I nod, hoping it’ll ease her concern, but I don’t know that it does. I feel her eyes on me. Giving my leg a squeeze, she turns and heads back to the door. “You are Miss Mavin. You gather yourself up after today and be Miss Mavin again.”

  “Thank you, Esme.”

  Try as I might, I can’t get back to sleep. I don’t want to, but I reach for my phone to check the time and any messages. I’m not expecting to see any from Maddox, but there’s a sliver of expectation when I turn on the screen, only to find three missed calls. Two from Leslie, one from Tina. There’s also a text message from Stephanie.

  I don’t know who to talk to first. I really don’t want to go to the club tonight. I don’t even know what this new shift in the relationship I have with Maddox means for Luxe. Do I have to put up with him for this last month? Maybe I can avoid him the entire time. Should I fire him? No, I can’t do that. That has human resources nightmare written all over it. The last thing I need is for my father’s lawyers to tell him Maddox is suing Mavin International for breach of contract. All because his daughter fired him after he broke up with her.

  Replying to Stephanie first, she asks if I want to go out and get lunch. I don’t, but if I stay in bed all day, I’m sure Esme will come back in and either try forcing me to get out or threaten to call my mother. That’s always been her go-to as the final straw. So, I tell Stephanie to meet me at Just Java, a trendy coffee shop around town.

  Trudging my way around my room, I go to the restroom to shower and clean up before heading out. After parking my car, I wait inside with my hands still on the steering wheel. I feel like I want to tell Stephanie what happened, and at the same time, I don’t. While I’m deciding what to do, my phone rings. I know it’s not him, but I’m still hesitant to check it.

  The screen has Leslie’s name across it, so I take a deep breath and answer it. “Hey.”

  “Cece, what happened to you last night?”

  “I … I had to leave.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  Another deep breath. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I, uh, I just had to leave. Hey, I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. Will you make sure everything is taken care of, please?”

  Nothing but silence from the other end. Staring at the dashboard of my car, I want to check and see if she hung up, and I don’t. I want to start crying again, and I don’t. I want to scream at the top of my lungs for the hurt and confusion still reverberating through my brain and heart. But I don’t.

  “Cece, are you sure you’re okay?”

  I gather up as much strength as I can and nod to myself. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just can’t be there tonight.”

  “Okay,” she answers. Her word is laced with concern. “Don’t worry about tonight. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Thank you, Leslie. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Okay. Bye, sweetie.”

  Closing my eyes, I fight through the thoughts of turning my car back on and returning home. Instead, I get out and go inside. Stephanie smiles and waves me over to the table she’s at. As soon as I sit down, I can’t stop the silent tears from falling.

  “Hey, girl,” she says, scrolling through her phone on the table. Then she pushes over a wrapped snack to me. “They just got in these chocolate cinnamon biscotti. They are de-lish.”

  I don’t respond. Folding my hands together, I stare down at the crunchy, baked treat. As the tears slide down my cheeks, I feel embarrassed beyond measure that I’m now acting like this out in public, but I can’t help it. The emotions continue to overflow.

  Stephanie glances up when I don’t answer. A wide-eyed frown comes over her. “Cece, what’s wrong?”

  Somehow, I find the strength to start shaking my head, but the words still escape me. “I …” She reaches over the table, taking my hand in hers. “He …” I close my eyes and take a deep breath once more. Opening them, she waits patiently, and I finally get it out. “Maddox. We … broke up last night.”

  “What? How come?”

  My head shakes, and my mouth opens, but I don’t know how to answer her. “I …I have no idea. The night before, he said he was feeling sick, remember?” She nods. “I went to his room between his sets last night, and some girl was in there with him.”

  “Ohmygod. Did you catch him—”

  “No, but they were sitting on the couch. Being all c
lose and talking. When I asked him what was going on, he said … He acted like it was all part of some deal we had. Like nothing between us was ever real.”

  “What an ass,” she hisses.

  Reaching for one of the napkins on the table, I quietly try to wipe away the tears. “I don’t get it, Steph. There’s no way he’s that good of an actor. I don’t understand why he’d do this. Why he’d pretend like it all meant nothing to him. It had to mean something to him, right?”

  I know my question probably comes off more desperate than it should, but I can’t help it. I want to believe something’s behind this. That he was drunk even though I know he wasn’t. Logically and emotionally, I’m grasping for anything that could have caused what happened.

  “It has to be,” she confirms.

  I don’t know if she genuinely believes it, or she’s merely consoling her best friend. Maybe I shouldn’t want hope, and come to terms with the fact that this is the only Maddox the world has ever known. Why should I have ever expected anything different? But I did.

  27

  Maddox

  Cece didn’t show up to Luxe on Sunday night. Or maybe she did, and she made it a point that I never saw her. Unlike the previous nights of trying to avoid her when I had to do what I was ordered, now that it’s done, I’m searching for her. Not that there would be anything I can tell her to make it better or get her to understand.

  Adam’s ignoring me, too. After our fight, I saw him the next morning, but he didn’t say a word. I know I crossed the line comparing our situations. I’ll never have any idea what he has to go through being gay and feeling like he has to hide it. His circumstance is completely different than mine.

  Plus, after thinking about it for a couple of days, I think he might be right. Maybe I should’ve at least told Cece what kind of man her father is, but she’s his little girl. I know the tabloids have called her Baby Mavin as a reference to the spoiled princess she was, but it’s apropos when talking about her relationship with her father.

  Now I’m doing something I probably shouldn’t and showing up to our band meetup. I’m in no mood to play, contribute to songs, or even just hang out with my family. I want to be alone and wallow in my misery. But I force myself to get out of the house because I know the longer I isolate myself and stew on everything that’s happened, the longer I’ll be pissed off. Going to the studio doesn’t stop me from taking a flask filled with whisky with me, though.

  I hang out in the mixing room, while Derrik is in the booth, recording some vocal tracks. I keep my phone out and scroll through it, but I’m not really paying attention to it. I’m making it look like it’s just another day. Reaching into the pocket of my leather jacket, I pull out the flask and take another swig.

  “Maddox, don’t you think it’d sound better if—” Jade’s words cut off. When I look up from my phone, she stares at the flask in my hand. “Are you drinking?”

  I eye the container, then glance back at her, shrugging. “Yeah.”

  “It’s barely past noon. What are you doing?”

  I let out a chuckle, then go to turn my phone off, but it slips off my knee. Another laugh floats out, and before I realize the truth, EJ says it. “Dude, you’re drunk.”

  “I’m not …” I reach down to pick up the phone. Another chuckle slips out, this time turning into a full laugh. “No, I’m not drunk.”

  “You’re drunk!” Jade stamps her foot. “What the hell, Maddox? We’re supposed to be working.”

  I take another drink from the flask, then point it at the window into the recording studio where Derrik is. “I don’t sing, Jade. What’s the problem?” Even as I ask the rhetorical question, I can hear my words slurring. “Calm down. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  She lets out a huff, then looks back at EJ. He stares up at her for a moment, still in his chair, and before either of them can say anything else, Derrik walks into the room. “What’s going on?”

  “Ask Maddox,” Jade snaps.

  I offer him a salute with the flask, about to take another drink, but stop myself. His eyes never leave the container, so I offer it to him. He scowls, then looks back at my sister. “What the hell is this?”

  “Would you guys just get back to work and leave me alone until you want some drums?” I roll my eyes while all of them stare.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is disrespectful and not helpful in the least. But it doesn’t stop me from taking another drink, leaning back on the couch, and extending my legs out to cross them.

  “What the hell is going on, Maddox?” Derrik asks. I shrug him off. “Don’t give me that. What’s wrong?”

  His continual prodding irks me. “I said leave me alone. Get back in there and sing your stupid lyrics about falling in love, or whatever crap you’ve thought up now, and call me when you need some snare.”

  He glances back at the others, then takes a step closer. “Did something happen with you and Cece?”

  “Ugh!” I jump to my feet, swaying as I do. “I said, shut up already.”

  “What happened?” Jade asks.

  “Nothing happened, okay?”

  “Then why are you slurring your words in the middle of the day?” EJ asks.

  “Shut up!” I shout at all of them. “There is no Cece and me, okay? You happy now? It’s over. Now leave me the hell alone.”

  Heading toward the door, Jade calls out behind me, “Maddox, you’re not driving like that?”

  “I’m fine,” I shout back.

  “I got him,” I hear Derrik, but don’t bother responding.

  Walking through the door, I pull out my keys. As soon as I do, he takes them from me, and I don’t have it in me to fight him off. “Whatever,” I grunt out.

  “Give me that.” He quickly snatches the flask from my hand.

  “Hey!” I reach across him, trying to get it out of his hand, but he keeps me at bay.

  Maybe I don’t press against him with more strength because I know what he’s doing is for the best. Maybe my brain is telling me there isn’t that much left in it to fight over. Whatever the reason, I stand there and watch as he hurries ahead of me toward a trash can near an elevator. Undoing the cap, he pours the remaining contents of it into the trash, then tosses the flask itself.

  “Ass,” I hiss at him.

  “You’ve called me worse before. Come on.” He grabs my shoulders, pulling me with him. We make it out to his Chevy Camaro, and he hits the key fob, starting the car up. Opening the passenger side door for me, he keeps an arm around me as if he’s helping a little kid into the car.

  I push him away. “I can do it.”

  “You sure?” he mocks me, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Shut up and drive.”

  He rolls his eyes and goes around to the driver’s side, getting in and starting it up. “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “I’m taking you home.”

  “No,” I quickly reply. “I don’t want to go there.”

  “Why not?”

  I bite my lip. Not only is it where I’ve been stewing over everything that’s happened this past weekend, but Adam’s also there, and he’s still pissed off at me.

  “Maddox?”

  I shake my head vehemently, staring through the windshield. “Anywhere but there.”

  Pulling the car out of the garage, I have no idea where we’re going. I watch as we pass vehicles on the highway. I start fidgeting with my fingers, wishing I still had the flask so I could dull my senses more. He makes a couple of turns, and then we’re on a small road with bushes and trees on both sides. For a moment, I have no idea where he’s taking us. We come up to a huge sign at the start of a parking lot.

  “The Hollywood Bowl?” I quirk an eyebrow.

  He doesn’t answer. As we approach a security booth, he rolls down his tinted windows, and I hear a lady’s voice. “The Bowl’s closed to visitors.”

  “Hey, how are you?” Derrik asks. I can already hear the charm in his voice.

  “I-I’m goo
d. Are you …”

  “I am,” he says, and she lowers down and sees me.

  I do my best to act my natural self and hide the fact that I’m buzzing right now. She looks like she’s on the younger side, maybe late twenties, with light brown hair pulled back. She’s dolled up in light blush and red lipstick.

  “Oh my God,” she says low and slow.

  “Would you mind if we took a stroll down the venue?”

  “For the Kings of Karmichael, anything.”

  “Thank you,” Derrik tells her, and pulls out a couple of our concert cards he has attached to his visor. “Here are some passes. We’re holding a Kings Court show here in a couple of months.”

  “Oh, you’re amazing. Thank you!”

  He nods and pulls through the security checkpoint, venturing toward the parking area for performers that’s closer to the stage area. Getting out of his car, the door shuts, and I stare through the front window. We’re near the back of the Bowl, but I don’t know why we’re here. And I still don’t want to talk.

  “Hey!” he calls out. I look over at him to see him impatiently waving for me to follow him.

  Begrudgingly, I get out of the vehicle and follow as we approach a small door. Turning the handle, he glances back at me. “Damn, it’s locked.”

  I can’t help the chuckle that floats out. “You thought we’d just be able to stroll in there?”

  He rolls his eyes, but smirks, and waves for me to follow him. He marches along the back of the building, and through the brush that’s pushed against the walls. Stopping, he takes a couple of steps back and stares at an eight-foot brick wall. Rubbing his hands together, he moves quickly and jumps up, clinging to the top of the wall, hoisting himself onto the top.

  “Come on,” he tells me.

  “This is nuts.”

  “Just do it,” he snaps.

  I lift my shoulders and try to do the same thing he did. Taking a few steps back, I rush at the wall and jump, but my feet aren’t working as well as his. They slide down, and I drop to the bottom.

  “Come on, loser,” he calls out, laughing.