Maysie narrowed her eyes. “Since when are you defending Cole?”
“I’m not. I’m just pointing out that Jordan is anything but perfect. Do we need to talk about Olivia?” I asked, wishing instantly I hadn’t gone there. I had mentioned she who shall not be named! I was entering bitch slap territory.
Maysie recoiled as if I had hit her.
“Viv, seriously. What the hell?” Gracie reprimanded and I instantly felt bad.
“Sorry, Mays. Forget I said that. It sucks you’re getting pulled into boy drama,” I said quickly, trying to remedy my bad case of jerk mouth.
Maysie still seemed prickly but appeared to accept my apology. “Yeah, it does suck. I’m actually thinking of coming back to Bakersville for a while. So I can plan the wedding and get my head together,” she said, causing Gracie and I to gape at her.
“What?” we both asked at the same time.
Maysie shrugged. “I’m just not sure if this tour is the place for me to be. It’s just so draining.”
“You’d leave Jordan? For weeks, maybe even months at a time? I find that hard to believe. You two are joined at the genitals,” I countered.
Maysie rolled her eyes.
“He’d understand. I need to figure out what I’m going to do with my life outside of being his fiancé. I can’t follow him around on the road forever. Or however long this ride lasts. It seemed so romantic when I threw everything in to go with the guys on tour. But here we are over a year later and even though there have been breaks and times when we’re not doing the band thing, it’s taken over every facet of my life. I can’t even plan my wedding because of all the craziness going on. I don’t resent it, but I’m getting tired of it.”
I couldn’t have been more shocked then if she had told me she had decided to start a one-woman circus act involving chickens and flame-throwers.
“Wow, Mays. . .just. . .wow,” was all I could say.
“So, do you have space for another roomie?” Maysie asked sadly, giving us a half-hearted smile.
“Of course we do,” Gracie said as I opened my mouth to say, “Not really.”
But that would have been a shitty thing to say. Not to mention completely unsupportive. But I was just thinking of all the extra mess and estrogen fueled drama.
My drama was enough for our two-bedroom apartment.
“Thanks guys. It probably won’t be for a few weeks. I have to talk to Jordan about it first. I know it’s the right thing for me. I know he’s struggling with everything with the band and making me happy at the same time. I just want him to be able to focus on himself for a little while. He’ll understand, right?” she asked. Why the hell was she asking us?
But I knew she just needed the reassurance. I patted her back in an affectionate gesture. “Of course he will, Mays. Jordan loves you. You guys are solid.”
Maysie gave me a shaky smile that reminded me so much of the insecure girl I had known during our Chi Delta days. I hated seeing her like this. Unsure and unhappy.
While it was great that the guys were finally getting the recognition that we all felt they deserved, it seemed to be coming at a hefty price.
For everyone.
Maysie’s less than exuberant mood put a damper on what I had hoped to be a great weekend.
What a downer. And I was looking so cute too! I fluffed my hair and tried to resurrect our dwindling good time.
“Let’s tailgate, ladies!” I announced, slapping some cash down on the table and jumping to my feet. I wiggled my hips in time to the music blasting from the jukebox in the corner and grinned a siren smile, as I became the immediate center of attention.
“But we don’t have a tailgate,” Maysie pointed out. I shrugged.
“Then let’s go borrow one!”
9
There was to be no tailgating during our evening festivities, much to my disappointment.
By the time the three of arrived at the Pour House Music Hall, where Primal Terror and our boys were playing, it was already packed. The Rejects weren’t due to hit the stage for another hour¸ but people were already lined up around the block.
Pour House Music Hall was a lot smaller then some of the venues where the bands had been performing over the last few months, but Primal Terror had insisted on several “smaller” gigs. They had risen up through the more intimate clubs and bars and apparently wanted to get back to their roots.
“We don’t have to wait in line, do we? Because I’ll start flashing boob to get to the front if I have to,” I complained. Though I meant it. I wasn’t above using some flesh just so I didn’t have to wait around.
“Of course not, we’re going straight in,” Maysie said and I was relieved to see that the doom and gloom had disappeared. It was hard to be pissy when you were going to see your man play to an adoring crowd. There was no greater aphrodisiac out there.
Unless your guy was an attention-seeking slut bag.
As soon as we entered the darkly lit bar, I caught sight of the guys setting up their gear on the small stage. All of them, but Cole that is. He was too busy sitting on the edge of the stage, his legs hanging off the side with some girl stood between his knees.
He was leaning back on his hands. So there was no groping or kissing going on. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to run over there and rip skankarilla’s hair out.
My rage ignited instantly.
Damn, it was going to be a long night.
I couldn’t help but notice the crusty looks the other guys tossed their lead singer’s way. And how he purposefully kept his back to them.
It was sad to see an end to their easy camaraderie. I really hoped this was only a phase and they’d get back to normal soon. Because no band could withstand the obvious resentment and bitterness that swirled around between them.
I turned my attention back to my erstwhile fellow and noticed that the girl now had her hands on his knees.
I felt my fingers curling into a fist.
Gracie grabbed my arm and gave it a tight squeeze, her nails digging into my skin painfully. “Don’t, Viv. Just don’t,” she warned.
I yanked my arm away and resolutely turned my back on Cole and his bimbo of the moment. I pushed my way through the crowd and slammed my hand down on the bar. The two guys on either side of me looked down and gave me identical leering smiles.
“Let me buy you a drink, baby.” I turned my most seductive smirk on a guy with a bright red Mohawk and a tattoo running along one side of his face.
“I’ve never been one to turn down free alcohol.” I looked up at him through my eyelashes, laying it on as thick as possible. I had no interest in Mohawked and Scary but free booze was the way to this girl’s heart.