“And I didn’t break it. It’s just bruised. A little swollen. No brown bag necessary.” She sounded pissed, which wasn’t new. And normally I’d goad her a little, just to get the explosion I liked so much. But something felt off about her.
And call it an ingrained survival instinct, but I thought better than to pour more fuel on a smoldering fire right now.
“Does it hurt?” I asked, trying to smooth things over.
Shit with Vivian had gotten complicated lately. Or maybe it was just me. I was a fucking mess.
Things with the band weren’t the greatest. The radio interview had been a disaster. Jose had been right, Molly, the DJ, had been more interested in whether I had a girlfriend, than the tour we were on. And after we were done, she offered to take me into the break room so she could suck my cock.
I didn’t take her up on it, just so we’re all straight. I hadn’t even been tempted. There was something really unappealing about a girl with a Miss Piggy tattoo on her neck who offered to let you spooge on her back. So I had respectfully declined.
While we waited in the lobby for Jose, Jordan had turned on me. He claimed I had hogged the interview time. Was he not in the same room as I had been in? How could he miss Molly’s blatant come-ons? I couldn’t be the only one who had caught the innuendo behind the question: “Do you like it in the dark or with the lights on? Performing that is.”
“You think you’re the fucking star of the show, Cole! You need a reality check! This is a band! There are four of us! We’re all equal here! If you can’t remember that then maybe I need to remind you,” Jordan had snarled and I felt myself getting pissed.
“I can’t help it if she was more interested in my cock then our music! Why the fuck is that my fault?” I had yelled.
Jordan had tried to punch me then and being the ninja that I am, I had dodged it. But I hadn’t expected the sucker punch when I bent to pick up my phone that had fallen out of my pocket.
Next thing I knew Jordan and I were both bleeding and the frightened little receptionist was threatening to call the police if we didn’t leave.
Maysie and Jose had separated us before it escalated further. And when Jose had me cordoned off in the back of the bus, he took his opportunity to remind me of my “options.”
“They don’t understand that you’re the one the public cares about, Cole. This will only get worse. Jordan already resents you. The bigger you get, the more those three guys are going to try to hold you back. You need to think about the big picture here and what’s best for you long-term,” Jose had said and I didn’t want to hear it.
Jose and his “go out on your own” pep talks were fucking with my head. And Jordan’s negative attitude was making the possibility look pretty damn appealing.
Despite the testosterone overload Jordan and I had made peace and we entered into an uneasy truce. That is until our publicity photo shoot the next day. And then shit hit the fan all over again.
Yeah, so a bunch of the pictures were of me. Yeah, the guys had felt slighted and felt like crap about it. But what was I supposed to do? Tell them no? Why didn’t they see that if people liked me, they liked the band?
It resulted in me getting the silent treatment from Jordan and Mitch, who was starting to piss me off as much as Jordan was. Garrett didn’t seem happy either, but at least he wasn’t pulling the whiny little girl act like the others.
And Jose kept giving me the See, I was right looks every time I glanced his damn way.
I was a mess.
And then there was Vivian.
Because in all this craziness, the only person I wanted to talk to, the only person I wanted to see, was Vivian. Vivian who drove me mental. Vivian who seemed to look for any chance to be angry with me.
I was really losing my shit.
“I’ll live,” Vivian said shortly, obviously still irritated with my less than sensitive remark.
“When you come to see me in Raleigh next weekend, I’ll take care of you,” I said, sleazing it up.
“Who says I’m going to see you next weekend?” Vivian asked snidely.