Or ever. But I’ll deal with that later.
She plucks at the material and stares down at the design. “It’s just a shirt.”
If she were any other woman in the world, I’d assume she was deliberately trying to provoke me. But this is Mallory and she’d never do that. She really doesn’t see the harm. “It will make me fucking insane to see that motherfucker’s band logo splashed across your tits all fucking night.” I was aiming for calm, but a few more fucks than I planned on slip into my explanation.
Her fingers curl in the hem. “You’re friends. You don’t want me to support your friend?”
At the moment, my friendship with Andrew is debatable at best. And after the shit he pulled last night, she shouldn’t want to show him any damn support.
Besides all of that, I’m ninety-nine percent positive what she’s wearing is the same shirt he hands out to groupies he’s fucked or girls he wants to fuck, so his security guard knows who to bring backstage after a show. “You’re my girl. I’m asking you, don’t—”
“Okay.” She lifts the shirt, revealing a sexy as fuck see-through black lace bra. “Give me a minute to find something else.” She tosses the shirt on the couch. I’m tempted to burn it and shove the ashes down Andrew’s throat as soon as I see the sneaky prick.
“Here.” She returns and holds up two black tank tops. One with the Harley Davidson logo and the other with Kickstart’s top-hat wearing skull and two guitars on the front.
“Either one.”
She tosses the Harley one on the couch and slips the other one over her head. Her gaze lingers on the discarded Vandals shirt. “I’m sorry.”
I press my palms to her cheeks and kiss her forehead. “Don’t apologize. Not your fault you’ve got a possessive motherfucker for a boyfriend.”
Jealousy’s the explanation I’m going with. Not to protect Andrew. Fuck that asshole. To protect Mallory. I can’t even imagine how much it would hurt her feelings to find out he tried to embarrass her in front of a stadium full of people tonight.
Guess I’ll have to figure out some other plausible explanation for why I’m going to knock the fucker out the second I see him.
Chapter Sixty
Mallory
Peter’s spitting fire when we finally arrive at the arena.
“Don’t you two fuck enough? I warned you to be on time for this—”
“Ease up.” Chaser levels a withering stare at his tour manager. “We had a hard time getting into the place. Maybe you should’ve mentioned we needed passes even at this hour.”
“Oh.” He gives us a sheepish look and pulls two laminated passes on black lanyards out for us. “You were on the list. The other guys got in without an issue.”
Chaser shrugs and hands me my pass.
“Chaser! You fucker! There is no thirteenth floor.” Andrew’s booming voice makes all three of us turn his way.
Chaser glares at him.
“Aww, Mallory, you didn’t wear my shirt.” His childish pout is almost cute, but I still feel bad I ever considered wearing the stupid shirt tonight. Of course I shouldn’t be running around at one of Chaser’s shows wearing another band’s shirt.
Chaser hasn’t stopped his death glare and even growls low in his throat.
As usual, Andrew’s oblivious.
Peter’s freaked out eyes dance between the two musicians. “Chaser. Let’s go. They’re waiting for you.” Peter shoves us into a dressing room that has Kickstart’s name on the door. I quickly point it out to Chaser while we rush by.
Inside, there’s another door to a lounge area, where the band and interviewer are chatting.
“Sorry we’re late. Had trouble getting into the arena.” Chaser’s earlier menace evaporates as he pastes on a professional smile.
“No problem. We were catching up about the tour.”
“Uh.” I tap Chaser’s shoulder. “I need to run to the bathroom,” I whisper.
Clearly torn, he glances at the door.
“I’ll be fine.” I hold up my pass. “I’m all legal now. No one will harass me.”
The interviewer flicks her gaze at me. “We don’t need you for a little while, Mallory.”
I don’t know why she needs me at all. I’m not part of the band. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I need to pee.
I poke my head out of the room, searching for a familiar face to point the way to the nearest bathroom.
Tons of people litter the large backstage area. Photographers. Fans. Family. Road crew. I wave to a few who call my name as I wander down the corridor, searching for the ladies’ room.
Ah, finally. I push inside and take care of business.
At the sink, I dig a small brush out of my purse and fix my hair. Two girls burst into the bathroom giggling. I watch them with envy brewing in my chest. None of the guys have significant others I can hang out with when the band’s busy. The girls they hook up with rarely want to talk to me—that’s if the guys let them stick around after they’ve served their purpose.
I thought maybe Pamela and I would develop a friendship since our boyfriends are so close. It’s probably a blessing she didn’t join me on this trip, though.
“Hi,” one of the girls says. “You look familiar. Have you—oh my God! You’re Mallory Dove! The ‘Candy Jar’ girl. Hey!”
“Hi.” I stick out my hand and project a friendly smile. “That’s me.”
“That’s so cool you’re here.” The first girl shakes my hand enthusiastically. “I’m Kim, this is Pearl.”
“Oh, what a pretty name.”
“Thanks.”
The two girls share a look. I can already sense what they’re going to ask.
“So, is Alvin traveling with anyone?” Kim asks.
“Or Garrett,” Pearl adds.
How about that? Usually girls ask about Jacob. I’m oddly pleased the groupies are starting to notice Alvin, since he’ll treat them a lot nicer than the other two will.
“Not that I know of.” My gaze drops to Kim’s shirt and slides over to Pearl’s almost identical one. “Oh.” I laugh feeling silly. “I have the same shirt.”
The girls glance at each other. “But you’re with Chaser,” Kim says.
“Well, the guys are friends, so they hang out a lot.” I shrug. “Andrew gave me one this morning.”
“Oh, honey.” They share another weird look that I can’t interpret. Kim taps her chest. “Andrew hands these out to girls he’s…you know…hooked up with in different cities. Usually asks us to wear it, so his bodyguard can easily pick us out and bring us backstage. Each guy has one that’s slightly different.”
“Mine’s from Vinnie,” Pearl adds, pointing to the cartoon of Vinnie’s face in the middle of her shirt.
No wonder Chaser’s head almost exploded when I came out of the bedroom wearing Andrew’s shirt. If he’s been on tour with them all this time, he has to be aware of its significance. I would’ve been walking around all night completely unaware I was announcing to the world that I’d fucked Andrew and made Chaser look like a fool.
“Excuse me.” I push out of the bathroom and storm down the hallway, searching for the Vandal’s dressing room.
A-ha. Benny’s big body sticks out, and I make a beeline for the door he’s guarding. I’m smaller and quicker on my feet than Andrew’s burly bodyguard. I duck under one of his tree-trunk sized arms and manage to fling open the door before he even knows what’s happening.
Mouth open, I stop and stare at the scene in front of me. Andrew with a girl who definitely isn’t Pamela bent over a chair. Both of them naked from the waist down. Fully engaged.
“Shit.” I gasp. “Oh shit.”
“You planning to stay and watch, Mal?” Andrew thrusts his hips, and the girl moans. “I don’t mind an audience but close the door before some fucker takes a picture.”
His casual attitude cuts through my shock, reigniting my fury. “You asshole!” Tears burn my eyelids, but I’ll be dammed if I’m going to cry in front of them.
Embarrassed and disgusted I back out of the room.
“Mallory, wait!” Andrew calls out behind me. I’m so furious I keep power-walking down the corridor. We’re attracting enough attention to make people turn and stare.
A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, spinning me around. “Get off me!”
“Shhh, don’t cause a scene,” Andrew pleads.
“Cause a scene?” My jaw drops as I lower my gaze to his unzipped, barely-hanging-onto-his-narrow-hips black leather pants. “You’re the one running around like a jackass with your pants about to fall off.”
“Shhh, come here.” He guides me into an empty room and flicks on the lights. But before he closes the door, Chaser yells my name. Andrew tries to slam the door, but it flies open, smacking him in the elbow.
“Ow fuck!”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Chaser roars. “Get your fucking hands off her!”
“Jesus Christ. Calm down.” Andrew shakes his arm and stumbles back a few steps. “Fuck, that hurts!”
“What’s going on?” Chaser’s murderous expression softens as he comes closer to me. “I thought you were coming right back?”
“I met some girls in the bathroom.” I throw a glare at Andrew. “They told me the significance of the T-shirt Andrew gave me. I stopped by his dressing room to give him my opinion on the matter, but he was busy with someone, who wasn’t Pamela, so I left, and he followed.”
Chaser closes his eyes for a second, and I swear he’s either praying or trying not to laugh.
“You knew, didn’t you?” I sock Chaser in the gut.
“I suspected,” he clarifies, wrapping his hand around my fist and tugging me closer.
“It’s just a shirt,” Andrew grumbles. “I knew Chaser wouldn’t let you wear it. I was just fucking around. We always play pranks on the opening band.”
“Smear some Vaseline on Jacob’s mic or dump confetti on them during the last song.” God, I wish I had something to smack him with right now. “Don’t humiliate me.”
Andrew squints and scratches the side of his head. “Fucking me is humiliating?”
Chaser takes a step forward, but I wrap myself around one of his arms and use all my weight to hold him back.
Andrew holds up his hands. “You know what I mean.”
“And you know what I meant,” I snap.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He holds out his arms, preparing to embrace both of us. “I love you guys. You’re like my favorite people. Don’t be pissed. Please?”
When neither of us respond, Andrew drops his arms. “Okay, not ready to hug it out. That’s cool.”
“I need to finish that interview,” Chaser says to me.
I slip my hand into his and he opens the door.
“Mallory, wait.” Andrew touches my shoulder.
“Get your filthy fucking hand off her.” Chaser reaches past me and slaps his palm against Andrew’s chest, shoving him away.
“Fine.” Andrew sticks his hands in the air but holds my gaze. “Don’t say anything to Pammy. She knows, but she doesn’t want to know. You feel me?”
“Whatever, Andrew.”
Quite a crowd has gathered outside the room. Chaser throws his arm around my shoulders, keeping me close, as we push our way through.
“Chaser, did you and Andrew have a fight?”
“Were you fighting over Mallory?”
“Is it true you pulled a gun on Andrew?”
“Mallory, are you sleeping with Andrew Lane?”
I whirl around seeking the person who asked that question, but Chaser pulls me forward. “Ignore it.”
We work our way into Kickstart’s dressing room, and Chaser shuts the door. “Are you okay?” he asks in a hushed tone.
I glance toward the door where the band was being interviewed, but it’s still closed. “Did you know?”
He sighs. “Listen, I’m not lodged so far up Andrew’s ass that I know the details, but I strongly suspected it was the same shirt. I wouldn’t have wanted you to wear it no matter what. But I definitely couldn’t have you wearing it if I was right.”
“Why didn’t you explain it to me?”
“I was hoping you’d never find out.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want your feelings hurt.”
“Did you know he cheats on Pamela?”
He rolls his eyes. “Who doesn’t know?”
“Dammit, Chaser. I work with her.”
“I’m not sticking my nose in their business.” He scowls at the door. “Although, after the last two nights, I’m tempted.”
I rest the back of my hand against his cheek. “Forget about Andrew. You need to calm down and finish that interview.”
He takes a long deep breath.
“Rolling Stone is here to interview Kickstart.” I raise my fists in the air and let out a hushed cheer. “Yay!”
Finally, he cracks a smile.
We enter the interview room, and the woman stands. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Chaser answers with perfect calm.
He must sense that’s I’m still rattled and pulls me over to the couch and into his lap when he takes his place in the corner.
“So, Chaser, rumor has it you’ve been asked to play on a few songs for legendary pop singer, Mitchell Howard’s new album. How’d that happen?”
Jacob casts a look Chaser’s way.
Why hello cat, guess you’re leaving the bag now.
“Uh, he called me out of the blue. Said he dug my playing and asked if I’d come down to the studio and try a few things. Nothing’s written in stone yet,” Chaser explains.
“That’s great.” She eyes the rest of the band. “Anyone else have any side projects they’re working on?”
“Nah, we’re all too committed to this tour and recording Kickstart’s next album as soon as we get off the road,” Jacob answers for everyone.
As if Chaser isn’t committed.
Chaser wouldn’t have time to entertain Michell’s offer if he didn’t have to sit around waiting for Jacob to pull himself together with alarming frequency. How badly I want to blab about all the wasted studio and rehearsal time the band’s endured because of Jacob.
Instead, I sit there, smile pretty, and when I’m asked, gush about how excited I am for tonight’s show.
Chapter Sixty-One
Chaser
Wild’s the only way to describe tonight’s show. The electric energy sparking from the crowd fuels my performance and burns my irritation from the earlier events away.
Why can’t every night be like this one? My girl watching from side stage. All four of us in sync and in peak performance. The crowd enraptured by our performance.
So flawless I’m tempted to pinch myself.
Not even watching Andrew come up behind Mallory and lean in to speak to her dulls my enthusiasm for the show.
Jacob announces, “Candy Jar,” and the crowd loses their minds. On this tour, we’ve been giving it the same gritty treatment as the EP version. Tonight, during my solo, Jacob runs off stage.
Not unusual. I’m too wrapped up in playing to pay much attention. A collective gasp and screams from the crowd draw my attention to the side. Where Jacob’s leading Mallory on stage.
The fuck?
“Our official ‘Candy Jar’ girl’s visiting us tonight!” Jacob shouts. “Give it up for Mallory!”
For a second, she gets that doe-staring-down-the-barrel-of-a-shotgun fear in her eyes, but she shakes it off and waves to the crowd.
Jacob picks up the last few lines of the song, and we finish to thunderous applause.
I grab Mallory around the waist, lifting her in the air and carrying her backstage. “Sorry about that,” I say in between kisses.
“I was shocked. I thought he didn’t want me on stage ever again.”
I glance over, but Jacob’s gone. “Who knows what’s going on in his head.”
“You were amazing,” she murmurs, leaning in for another kiss. “Do you have any
idea how sexy you are when you’re on stage?”
“Why don’t you show me?”
“You gonna watch us tonight?” Andrew yells from about three feet away.
Mallory and I both groan.
“I’m still not speaking to you,” she says without looking at him.
I choke on a laugh and bury my head against her shoulder.
“I said I was sorry.”
“A grown-ass man whining is a sad sight.” Alvin slaps Andrew’s arm. “Have some dignity, bro.”
“Where’d Jacob go?” I set Mallory down and face Alvin.
“He wasn’t feeling great,” Garrett says.
“Shit, I hope he’s not sick.” As the words leave my mouth, I spot Jacob way down the hallway, arguing with Vinnie.
“The fuck are they doing?” I jerk my chin in their direction.
“Vinnie swore he had a hookup in town, but the guy never showed.” Andrew shrugs. “I’ll go help him look after our show.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” I growl. “Are you fucking kidding me?” The last thing we need is the three of them trolling the city in search of coke, heroin, or whatever the fuck they’re shooting these days.
Mallory searches the backstage area. “There are plenty of girls here for him to hook up with.”
“Not that kind of hookup.” I lean down and kiss her cheek.
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Shit.”
“I haven’t slipped up,” I assure her.
She runs her fingers over my cheek. “I know you haven’t.”
I tip my head and brush my lips over her inner wrist. “Thank you.”
The roadies finish moving our set out of the way. Vinnie joins us but doesn’t say much. My fingers itch to wrap around his damn throat for getting Jacob hooked after he’d been clean for months. Then again, I don’t know that it didn’t happen the other way around.
“You’ve never seen us live, right?” Andrew asks Mallory.
“No.”
Blow My Fuse (Hollywood Demons Book 2) Page 31
