Filthy Beautiful: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players #2)

by Diamond, Jaine

  Dancing improved my mood maybe two-percent.

  That two-percent plummeted to minus a thousand when I saw Xander kissing some girl on the other side of the patio.

  And not just kissing.

  Making out with her.

  Like, he was eating her face off.

  Oh… God… I did not need to see that.

  For so many reasons.

  That awful floaty feeling you got in the pit of your stomach right before throwing up? That. Except I didn’t throw up. Vomiting would’ve been a relief.

  Instead, I stopped dancing and just stood there, staring.

  And really trying not to.

  It was like a car accident. I couldn’t not look. I just had to know if anyone was coming out of it alive… because they sure as hell weren’t breathing.

  “Come on, keep dancing!” Shayla bumped my hip with hers, trying to make me dance with her. But it was like I had cement in my shoes. She seemed to be pretending she wasn’t noticing what I was staring at, but there was no point trying to hide it. No saving face here.

  It was obvious.

  I watched as Xander left the patio, hand-in-hand with that girl. They wandered over to the back of the yard… and disappeared into the trees.

  “Oh my God,” Shay said. “He’s totally fucking her in the bushes.”

  He was. I mean, I didn’t exactly see him take out his dick or anything, but they paused inside the edge of the trees long enough to make out some more—before vanishing into the dark.

  “Oh my God,” I echoed, trying to sound exactly as grossed-out-yet-strangely-intrigued as she did. And not like my whole world was collapsing around me.

  Shayla was totally on to me, though. “You are WAY prettier than her.”

  “I have to pee,” I announced abruptly.

  Then I jetted so fast through the crowd, she had no hope of catching up with me.

  He was fucking that girl. For sure.

  In the fucking bushes.

  And he wouldn’t even talk to me.

  I went stumbling blindly through the party until I found the staircase and climbed it. The house was spinning a bit, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t totally alcohol related.

  Like how slutty did one have to be to actually stumble off into the bushes with somebody they just met to fornicate?

  Sure, for all I knew, he’d met her before. Maybe he’d come to the party with her.

  But whatever.

  I found another staircase and climbed it, too. I stumbled down the hall. It was quieter up here, and I had no idea where I was going except as far away as I could get, and as alone as I could get.

  I felt like some poor, wounded animal, dragging itself off into the wilderness to die alone.

  I felt smashed.

  It was my very first taste of heartbreak… and it definitely hurt like a motherfucker.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Courteney

  The night Xander Rush called me kid—and blew me off in favor of screwing some other girl in the bushes—was the night he came crashing down off the pedestal I’d put him on.

  And Angeline Delacroix found me crying in a closet.

  It was Brody Mason’s closet, so it was a pretty nice closet. Spacious, lined with his clothes. Smelled pretty good, too. The man was wealthy and he had good taste. Plus I was pretty damn glad that while he threw an off-the-hook party, no one was allowed in his bedroom, so it was deserted when I snuck in.

  Fortunately, I’d found a loophole in his security system. His bedroom door was locked, but the one off the rooftop patio that opened into it wasn’t.

  So there I was, hiding out in Brody Mason’s bedroom closet. In tears.

  Maybe about half a minute after I’d collapsed in a pathetic heap, there was a little tap on the closet door. It slid open a few inches, and some pretty girl peered in at me. Then she turned on the light.

  I started mopping at my face with the backs of my hands, but they weren’t very absorbent. They just kind of smeared the tears around.

  No way she could miss that I was crying.

  I peered up at her. She looked a few years older than me. She had long, light-brown hair and wore a colorful tank top with turquoise skinny jeans. The top featured what appeared to be a drunk unicorn, throwing up glitter.

  “You’re not really supposed to be in here,” she told me.

  “I know.”

  Then she slipped in the closet with me, closed the door, and offered me one of the two Jell-O shooters she was holding.

  I sniffled and took it as she sat down next to me. “I didn’t know there were Jell-O shots,” I said, trying to sound normal and not like I’d just been caught bawling my eyes out in front of a stranger.

  “I brought them,” she said. “I never do a party without them. You really haven’t lived until you’ve watched a grown man scoop a Jell-O shot out of a little plastic cup with his tongue.”

  I laughed despite my tears and wiped my cheeks with my hand again. “Thank you.”

  “Cheers.” She tapped her shot cup to mine and we sucked back the shots. I definitely had to scoop most of mine out with my tongue. I could totally see how watching some hot guy do that would be yummy. Some hot guy… like Xander.

  Fuck Xander.

  He’s fucking someone else in the bushes right now, remember?

  “If Jude catches us, by the way,” she said, plucking my empty shot cup from my hand, “we’re toast.”

  “Who’s Jude?”

  “Big biker security guy.”

  “Which one?”

  “I know, right?”

  I looked her over a little more closely. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Angeline. You can call me Angie if you’re nasty, though.”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s a Janet Jackson joke.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, you’re not in the mood. I get it.” She cocked her head at me. “Do you know Elle? I’m her sister. Angie Delacroix.”

  Whoa. Well, that explained how pretty she was. She had this kinda pixie face and amazing blue-gray eyes, and her figure was all willowy-yet-curvy.

  “Everyone knows Elle,” I said. Truth. Elle Delacroix was probably the most famous member of Dirty. Not only was she their bassist, but she had it going on. Solo music career. Makeup line. I saw her in a movie last year… I hadn’t seen her at the party, though. “I, uh, doubt she knows me, though.”

  “You have a name?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I’m Courteney.”

  “Courteney…”

  “Clarke.”

  “Oh.” Her blue-gray eyes went all big. “You mean… Are you related to Cary Clarke? Like… the legendary Cary Clarke?”

  And here we go.

  “Yeah. He’s my brother.”

  “Cool.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied my face. “Wow. Your brother’s hot. You must hear that all the time and it must drive you nuts.”

  “Kinda.”

  “I get it. My sister’s pretty hot, too.”

  “Right.”

  “Rock stars, huh? Can’t live with them… can’t exactly pretend you don’t know them. Last name and all.”

  I kind of snort-laughed. I was probably already drunker than I thought.

  “Oh, good. You do laugh.”

  “Sometimes,” I said. “Usually when things are least funny, weirdly enough.”

  “Hmm. You’re cool,” she said. “We should hang.”

  “Maybe not in a closet next time, though.”

  She grinned. “So… Who was it?”

  “Who was what?”

  “The dickhead who sent you in here in tears.” My smile faded and she shrugged. “I saw you sneak away up the stairs.”

  “No one.” I dabbed at the corners of my eyes again. “I mean… I shouldn’t really say.”

  “Hey, I get it. Trust me. They’re all heartbreakers. You’re not the first girl to end up in tears at one of these parties.”

  I studied her. The sympathy in her eyes. “You?�
��

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “Me.”

  “Tears… for who?”

  “Take your pick. I mean, my first true love was Dylan Cope, but he has no idea. My sister and him are like BFFs. He thinks I’m like a cute little kitten or something. I don’t think he even notices I’m human. He pats my head every time he sees me… It’s sad how happy it makes me.”

  “Damn.”

  “It’s okay. It’s better this way. You know, it’s good to have one perfect specimen to measure all other men against. If I actually hooked up with him, he probably wouldn’t live up to the fantasy anyway.”

  I wondered about that. Was she right?

  Or was that just something she told herself to make herself feel better?

  “After Dylan, there was Ashley Player…” she went on. “Though I’m not sure he even knows I’m alive. And then I definitely had a Dean Slater phase. You know… the list goes ever on.”

  “Ugh, Dean? Really?”

  “Yeah. Really.”

  “Dean Slater is like… a two-year-old in a man’s body.”

  “I know. Those lips though…”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Sorry. Sucks to be you.”

  “It really does.” She giggled with me.

  When I got over the laughter, I took a breath.

  “If you know Dean… you must know Xander Rush.”

  “Ooooh, girl. His reputation proceeds.” She studied me. “He’s here tonight…”

  “Yeah.”

  “Pretty sure I saw him screwing someone in the backyard…”

  My stomach sank. “Yeah.” I’d never actually been kicked in the gut, but it definitely felt like Xander had just given me the boot with his size eleven.

  She eyed me up and down. “What did he do to you?”

  “Nothing. That’s kinda the problem.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  I sniffed and had to push back the tears.

  “Well, we’ve all been there,” she said. “Nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, after Dean—”

  “Oh, shit. There’s more?”

  “Don’t judge, but my most recent crush is Johnny O.”

  “Johnny? He’s my friend Shayla’s half-brother.”

  She gasped. “You know Shayla?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I love Shayla.”

  “You like Johnny?”

  “I mean, he’s so gorge. But he knows it, you know? He definitely knows I’m alive, but it would be a major mistake. Like he might hit it, but then he’d definitely quit it.”

  “Yeah,” I said, because what else could I say? She was probably right.

  I’d heard all about Johnny’s ways with women, from Shayla. He was definitely gorgeous, but the dirt Shay had on him was enough to turn me off.

  Angie sighed. “We should form a club.”

  “Yeah. Like a support group. Kid Sisters of Rock Stars Anonymous.”

  “Hmm. KSRSA. That’s a mouthful.”

  “We can work on the name.”

  “Hey.” She elbowed me lightly. “Let’s do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “The support group. For real. I’ll introduce you to Larissa. Her brother, Trey, is totally hot. He owns a record label, so he’s practically a rock star. She’ll commis.”

  “Huh?”

  “Commiserate.” She got up and offered me a hand. “Come on. Let’s go do more Jell-O shots before Dylan devours them all.”

  “Okay.” I got to my feet. “I’m, uh… sixteen, though. Kinda worried someone’s gonna cut me off soon. Like a friend of my brother’s? They’re everywhere… like Lord Varys’ spies.”

  “Huh?”

  “Game of Thrones joke?”

  She wrinkled her nose.

  “No?”

  She looped her arm through mine. “Just stick with me. I’m twenty-two, and no one cares what I drink. Brody will get you a cab home. He’s good like that. And if you don’t want to go home to your parents, you can come home with me. I still live with mine, but they’re cool. They won’t bother us.”

  She took me into Brody’s bathroom, where we tried to make it look like I hadn’t been crying my eyes out. Then I followed her back down to the bar, where we spent the rest of the night doing Jell-O shots and dishing on the rock stars in the room.

  Xander never returned from his romp in the woods, and sometime in the middle of the night, after Johnny had packed some chick into his car and taken off, Angie, Shay and me got into a cab and went back to Angie’s place.

  And that was how the Lil Brat Society was formed. Though we didn’t call ourselves Lil Brats yet.

  That summer, I spent a lot of time at my brother’s place, like I always did when I was home from school.

  Unfortunately, so did Xander. Steel Trap was recording their second album in Vancouver, so he was in town.

  Which meant I got a front row view of his manwhore ways.

  All. Summer. Long.

  He’d never actually spent so much time in my brother’s poolhouse before. At least, not while I was around. So I’d never really seen that side of him.

  And wow, was it something to see.

  Maybe I was a glutton for punishment or something? I could’ve gone back to my parents’ place.

  But for some reason… I stayed. As much as I could get away with it, I stayed at my brother’s place.

  Maybe I just wanted to make sure my eyes captured the evidence, so my brain could log it all—and send my heart the fucking message.

  That Xander Rush was a complete and total pig.

  That he used women like tissues and tossed them away about as casually. They floated in and out of the poolhouse, and I rarely saw the same woman with him twice.

  At the end of that summer, as I packed my bags to leave for school, he knocked on my bedroom door. I went out in the hallway with him and shut the door behind me. I didn’t really want him in my room. Felt weird. I’d barely talked to him all summer.

  Every time he said hi, I tended to disappear.

  All those women I’d glimpsed going in and out of the poolhouse? I’d seen them from the safety of my bedroom window.

  “Heard you were leaving,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Have a good year at school, okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Then he gave me a hug and I let him. His big, warm body wrapped around mine. He smelled good.

  He felt better than good.

  “You know we’re here for you, if you need us,” he whispered in my ear.

  We?

  Who was this magical ‘we’ he spoke of?

  By the time I arrived at the school that night, there’d be no one there for me. Not my parents, or my brother, or him. Not even the Lil Brat Society.

  Shayla had graduated from Westmont last June.

  This year, I’d be on my own.

  Xander released me and I looked at his face. He seemed to be looking somewhere between my eyes and my mouth, but not really seeing me. It was this totally weird way he’d been looking at me all summer, and it made me feel grossly invisible.

  I resented it.

  I resented him.

  “You need a ride to your mom and dad’s or anything?”

  “No. I’m okay.”

  I let him off the hook so he didn’t have to force himself to be nice to me anymore, and went back into my room. I shut the door and sat on my bed and waited for my dad to pick me up. And I made a vow to myself right then and there. A solemn, holy vow.

  To never again fantasize about Xander Rush.

  Of course, I broke that vow.

  Passionately and often.

  I didn’t mean to… but Xander just had a way of creeping up on me. Lurking in the back of my mind. Rattling around in my heart. Just waiting for me to let my guard down.

  To feel lonely.

  To long for that warm, special feeling he’d given me when I thought he really cared about me.

  Thank God Steel Trap had left on tour by the time
I came home that Christmas.

  Because by then… I hated him.

  At least… I wanted to hate him.

  But maybe the truth was I’d always kind of loved him.

  I felt connected to him. Attached.

  When I was fourteen, I was cut wide open by what happened to Gabe, and what happened to my brother because of it. And Xander was the only one who really seemed to understand.

  While I was wide open, he’d gotten right under my skin.

  Maybe I’d just always be stuck with him, wherever he was.

  * * *

  The next day was shit. It was the day after Brody’s bachelor party, and Xander hadn’t come home. He’d probably been staying at his condo downtown. Or maybe sleeping over with some girl? Because clearly, he wasn’t staying here.

  Now it was Saturday night, and I knew he was at Brody’s wedding.

  I was sure there would be a lot of people from the local music industry going. I wasn’t invited, but I didn’t expect to be. I had no idea if my brother was invited.

  But he definitely didn’t go.

  As usual, he was locked away in his studio.

  I was sitting by the pool with a giant pitcher of vodka lemonade, waiting for the rest of the Lil Brat Society to get their butts over here.

  By now, I’d convinced myself Xander was definitely fucking someone else. Like since he’d walked out on me two nights ago and left me horny and confused on his bed in the poolhouse… he’d screwed an entire cheerleading squad. In my mind.

  If he brought some woman back here with him later tonight—if he actually came back after the wedding—I could not handle it.

  I very especially, most definitely could not handle it sober and alone.

  So I’d called in my support group.

  Angie, Shayla and Larissa arrived just after nine. I could hear the music booming from the speaker in Shayla’s purse before I even opened the front door.

  I led them out back and immediately poured them each a vodka lemonade from my pitcher.

  “So what happened?” Angie asked me, as we settled in on lounge chairs by the pool. “I have like an hour before my date and I want all the details.”

  Right. My best friend had a date tonight. She was going to some party with some hot guy she’d met, and I couldn’t even be happy for her. I mean, I wanted to be, but I was too bummed out.