“Can I get another soda, Lyla?” I called out to the bartender over the deafening roar of Generation Rejects’ music. I sat through the remainder of the set and even made myself engage in some seat dancing. Woohoo! Riley Walker was cutting loose! Look out world!
I waited with Maysie while the guys broke down their equipment and basked in the fawning adulation of their fans. “I need to send Vivian and Gracie a text letting them know we’re heading over to the party,” Maysie said pulling out her phone.
“I thought Cole and Vivian broke up,” I commented, nodding my head in the lead singer’s direction as he squeezed a random girl’s ass. Vivian Bailey was Maysie’s former sorority sister. She had graduated in May and was taking a year off to “find herself,” whatever the hell that meant. In my opinion if you need to look, then perhaps you shouldn’t be found.
Vivian and Cole had some sort of friends with benefits situation. Except they weren’t ever friends and I was pretty sure Cole shared those “benefits” with most of the girls who came out to see their shows.
Whatever they had ended a couple of weeks ago in pure Vivian Bailey fashion. Meaning there was lots of screaming. Lots of drama. Lots of piss and vinegar spewed in the most public way possible. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how much of a voyeur into people’s lives you are), it happened to be right after the Rejects’ show downtown. Vivian had been drunk and Cole’s attention was a little too focused on a girl who wasn’t Vivien.
Apparently there had been high volume yelling, some glasses were smashed. Vivian pulled out a clump of hair from the poor girl who had the unfortunate luck of catching Cole’s eye that evening. All in all, it had been a melee of epic proportions. And I had missed it. It was the one time I wished I had let Maysie talk me into joining her. Because watching Vivian lose her shit was better than any reality television show.
Maysie shook her head as she wound up a guitar cable and handed it to Mitch. “Yeah, well Gracie said Cole spent the night last weekend. So who the hell knows….ahh!” Maysie screamed as Jordan grabbed her and bent her low over his arm, kissing her soundly in front of everyone.
His bandmates whistled, Barton’s staff catcalled, and there were a lot of pissed off groupies. I distinctly heard “whore” and “slut” muttered not so quietly. I glared at the group of girls behind me.
“You got a problem?” I asked them pointedly. I eyeballed each of them, giving them the ubiquitous girl once over, taking in their too tight clothes and cheap efforts to look sexy. I curled my lip in disgust and gave them my best sneer.
The girls, three of them, sneered back weakly. “No,” a red head said petulantly, sounding like a child who didn’t get the toy she wanted.
I flicked my fingers in their direction. “Well I think it’s time you leave. Barton’s is closing and this,” I motioned to the group of people who had gathered around the guys as they had their after show beers. “Is a private party.” I leaned in closer. “Meaning you aren’t invited,” I said slowly and purposefully.
The one with the overly styled blonde hair tossed her locks over her shoulder. “Bitch,” she bit out.
I smiled. “You know it,” I said to them as they turned and left.
Maysie had seen the whole exchange and shook her head at me. “Retract the claws she-lion. If I got upset every time one of these girls said something nasty about me, I’d never leave my room. And I’ve been there done that, girlfriend,” she teased.
I shrugged. “What can I say, you bring out my maternal instincts.” Maysie hugged me around the shoulders and I decided to let her. Like I said, she was the touchy-feely kind.
“You ready to head out, baby?” Jordan wrapped his arm around Maysie’s waist and kissed the back of her neck. Her eyes drooped in that way that meant she was melting into a puddle at his feet. I had to look away.
Excessive PDA made me mildly nauseous.