Bad Rules_Wild Minds Novel

by Charlotte West

  Copyright © 2018 by Charlotte West LLC

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9987249-4-2

  Editors: Taryn Lawson, Hot Tree Editing

  Cover design: Okay Creations

  Formatting: Champagne Book Design

  PR: Foreword PR

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Visit my website at www.charlottewestbooks.com

  Follow me on Facebook at Charlotte West

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About this Book

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Sample of Good Lies

  Then

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Turns out, hate sex is the best sex.

  Feminist and all around world’s greatest best friend, Lily Philips-Thomas has a rule for everything.

  Rule One

  No matter how many proposals you receive (seventeen to be exact) don’t ever get married. Marriage is a tool of the patriarchy.

  Rule Two

  Speaking of the patriarchy, don’t fall in love with an alpha a-hole rock star who believes the sun rises and sets with him. This will only lead to heartache.

  Rule Three

  Let’s say the alpha a-hole does break your heart. Do not ever forgive him. God could be a woman, but the devil is most certainly a man.

  Rule Four

  Chicks before d*cks. Never let your best friend down even if it means coming face to face with the alpha a-hole who broke your heart and wants you back.

  Now

  Nothing good ever happens after 10 p.m., my mother used to say. Well, not my mother. Somebody’s mother. My descent into hell started with a phone call.

  “I’m in labor,” my BFF, Addison Wanks, aka the pretzel to my beer, my bestie from another teste, deadpanned.

  I glanced at my calendar and flipped through the pages until I found the big red circle marking Addy’s due date. “What? The baby is coming? You have like three months to go.” My heart dropped straight out of my chest. At the same time, I raced to my bedroom. Leather pants, hot pink bras, and tank tops scattered the floor. A laundry massacre. Without thinking, I began to shove garments, dirty and stained, into a duffel bag. Horror-filled scenes dashed across my imagination. Addy in labor. Addy losing her baby girl. It was too early.

  “Well,” Addy huffed. “I’m going to be in labor soon.”

  My knees gave out. I sat down heavily on my bed, clutching a lacy camisole that reeked of smoke to my chest. “Addy.” With a thumb, I rubbed the space between my eyebrows. This wasn’t my first rodeo with Addison Wanks. Though the girl denied it, she was exactly like her rock-star father. Clever. Manipulative. A pain in the ass. Still, I loved her.

  “I need you, Lily,” she whined.

  I groaned. “I think your definition of the word ‘need’ and mine to be much different.”

  “Semantics. I can’t believe you’re going to let your BFF tour Europe as a beached whale.” Addy’s husband, Warren, was the lead singer of Wild Minds. An international tour had been planned before she’d found out she was pregnant. Against her OB’s advice, the hormonal woman insisted on going along. And War, unable to deny his wife, had hired an entire medical team.

  I set the issue of the European tour aside. I didn’t like to think about rock bands and that particular continent. Bad memories. Catastrophic even. “You’re not that big.”

  “Last night War laughed and said there was over three hundred pounds combined in our bed. The worst part is he was wrong. It’s like four hundred. I’m pushing two hundred.” And cue the crying. Weepy defined my best friend’s pregnancy best. Any little thing set her off. Ballads sung by her rocker husband. ASPCA commercials. She even bawled when her hubby ate all the leftover Mexican food. No choice but to wait it out. At length, she sniffed. “I’m a human garbage disposal. All food is good food. Yesterday I ate mashed potatoes dipped in yogurt.” I pulled a face. Gross. Even I had limits. “I went to the doctor because I thought I was leaking amniotic fluid turns out I was just peeing myself.”

  “That’s an overshare, honey.”

  “Everything is changing so fast.” Her voice grew small. “It’s going to be all groupies and parties. I need you to keep me grounded. Come with me to Europe.”

  Something in my chest twisted. “I really wish I could, but I can’t. My class schedule—”

  “Spring term is almost over. Aside from that, you have a four point. You can. You’re just unwilling.” I couldn’t deny the truth in her words. My hand tightened around the phone. Four years ago, fresh out of high school, Addy and I had abandoned our college plans to follow Wild Minds across Europe. It was Addy’s idea. She’d met Warren before, when he was the opening act for her father’s band. Addy’s dad, legendary rock god, Billy Wanks, hated Warren. Then he hated Warren even more when his little girl was found in a compromising position with the lead singer (i.e., she was climbing that man like a tree). Billy forbade Addy from seeing Warren.

  This made Addy like Warren even more. So when War asked Addy to join him on tour in Europe, she happily obliged. I went along. For the adventure. For the art. I sure as hell wasn’t looking for anything romantic.

  Then Asher Price, Warren’s evil twin, landed in my lap. Ash had no control over his emotions and it was infectious. I caught it. He was arrogant and possessive and dominant. All the things I loathed. Turns out, hate sex is the best sex.

  Anyway, our grand European adventure ended in giant shit flames. Addy and I fled the continent together, Addy with a ring on her finger. That’s right; she’d eloped. Of the two of us, people always thought I was the wild child. But Addy had me beat that summer.

  Fast forward a few years and Wild Minds had hit it big. Addy had been avoiding her husband since that summer. Everything came to an explosive head when her dad demanded she come along on his farewell tour. Wild Minds was a co-headliner. Needless to say, there were plenty of sparks, but all ended well. Addy got her happily ever after. She reunited with War and now they had a precious baby girl on the way. Even Billy came around, begrudgingly accepting Warren as his son-in-law. Addy’s reunion with
War brought Ash back into my life. We were forever connected now. My best friend was married to his brother. Life sucked balls sometimes.

  I shoved the memories back and down. A tight knot settled in my stomach. If Asher Price weren’t one fourth of the band Addy would be traveling with, I’d hop the next plane to be with her. Addy sighed at my silence. “Ash—”

  “Don’t say his name,” I cut in.

  She sighed again, bigger and a little more aggravated. “He who shall not be named has promised to be on his best behavior.” I didn’t know what that meant, since I’d never seen Asher Price’s best behavior. He had a hellish frown and an equally hellish attitude to match. He was also stubborn as fuck. Case in point, the asshole was semistalking me. Twice, I’d had to change phone numbers because he’d stolen mine from Addy’s phone. His persistence nearly wore me down until, in a weak moment, I listened to his last message. It had started off kind of funny, him accusing me of having resting bitch face (sort of true), then turned downright nasty, with slurring insults. Asshole.

  Addy carried on unaware of my musings. “You can’t imagine how scared he is of pregnant women. The other day I wanted this burrito he was eating.” Did I mention my friend had a seriously unhealthy obsession with Mexican food since becoming pregnant? “All I had to do was lift up my shirt and show him how my skin was moving since the baby was kicking underneath. He turned green and hightailed it out of the kitchen.”

  I chewed on a thumbnail. The wicked-bad habit of biting my nails began in childhood. Nannies had tried to break me of the obsession. My cuticles were painted with bitter-tasting shit. I chomped right through it. “I’m so glad something in your pregnancy is working for you.” Again, see how I avoided the topic of Asher Price? I mentally patted myself on the back. No matter how much Addy begged, how persuasive she became, I would not waver. In my head, I hummed the tune to “We Shall Not Be Moved.”

  Addy rattled on and I zoned her out for a moment, staring at the collage of posters on my wall. Dead center was a signed portrait of Gloria Steinem circa 1970. I’d waited all day in line at a Barnes and Noble for her autograph. I loved that woman so hard. “Are you listening to me?” Addy nearly shrieked. Uh oh, we’d reached Addy’s other default state during pregnancy: anger.

  Shoulders slumping, I said, “I really can’t come with you Addy. My parents promised to visit this summer.” Dr. Thomas and Dr. Phillips—never married but together—were making a rare trip home from whatever wild country they currently inhabited. Both were anthropologists, and both preferred remote jungles to big cities. A year had passed since I’d last seen them.

  I’d spruced up my guest room, splurging on new bedding. I’d even made an itinerary, chock-full of fun, touristy things, including a tour of my college campus. This was my third institution of higher learning in as many years. I’d changed majors and careers as often as someone changes underwear. I’d inherited my parents’ inability to put down roots, something I fought against daily. The wind blew and I wanted to chase it. I committed to staying.

  “Lily.” Addy’s anger morphed to sympathy. Pity colored her tone. I knew what she was thinking. They’re not going to show. How many times had my parents promised a visit, then reneged? Too many to count.

  “They’re really coming this time.” I knew how I sounded: like a child insisting on something impossible, like reaching the stars or lassoing the moon.

  “Okay,” she said, even though it seemed like she wanted to say more. “Love you, Lil.”

  “You, too. To Edward Cullen,” I said swallowing a small lump in my throat.

  “May he be forever young and beautiful.” The phone clicked. When we were teens, we’d devoured all the Twilight books, watched all the movies. I may or may not have dived into the world of vampire fan fiction. We even took a trip to Forks, Washington. Now, whenever we spoke or saw each other we toasted to the sparkly vampire of our sixteen-year-old dreams.

  I let the phone drop to my mattress. Silence descended, heavy and shroud-like. I’d never liked the quiet. It made me feel lonely. Made my skin feel itchy. Pushed me to do things. Bad things. I feared stillness. Agitated, I gnawed on my other thumbnail.

  To distract myself, I walked to my guestroom. The apartment I rented near the University of Washington campus wasn’t exactly within my budget. But I’d wanted a two bedroom, wanted a space for my parents to stay and visit. I smoothed the comforter and fluffed the pillows. That chewed up all of three seconds. Sighing, I decided to order a pizza.

  The pizza arrived in no time, carried by a middle-aged dude who spent way too much time staring at my chest. I nibbled and watched Twilight and thought of Addy. Then eventually my thoughts turned to Asher. Some days I could still feel his body against mine. The scruff of his cheek rubbing between my thighs. I shivered, the good kind, hot and cold all over. I used to love sex. Then Ash had come along. He was too good. Too sexy. He claimed me. Owned me. Ruined me.

  Now, no one compared.

  I reached for my fifth slice of pizza. No judgment please. I didn’t need Asher Price or his hot body and even hotter temper. I had pizza.

  If you really thought about it, pizza and sex were a lot alike. Both were much better with someone else, but having it alone was okay too. There would always be that one that reigns supreme. And either can leave shameful stains.

  My phone chirped in the wee hours of the morning. I’d purposely left it on. Dr. Thomas and Dr. Phillips lived in an opposite time zone. Their emails often arrived during the dead of night. Bleary eyed and bed headed, I unlocked my phone and pressed the email icon. Sure enough, my parents had sent a letter.

  Lilliana,

  Your father and I have been asked to be keynote speakers at the European Association of Social Anthropologists this year in Stockholm. Unfortunately, the dates coincide with the time we planned to visit you. I hope you’ll understand.

  Susanna

  My mother insisted I call her Susanna. I’m more than a mother, Lilliana, she explained once. I insist you address the whole me. The email took three seconds to read and a scant longer to comprehend. I slumped back in my bed. Unwanted tears gathered in my eyes. I felt like a little girl again, reaching for a mother and father who always had their backs turned, their eyes on some new bright horizon.

  My phone lit up again. A torrent of missed texts followed. All from Addy.

  Addy: Come to Europe. It will be our last hurrah.

  Addy: We leave in four days. It’s not too late to change your mind.

  Addy: I feel like you’re ignoring me.

  Addy: ARE YOU IGNORING ME?

  A gif of The Hulk smashing and throwing cars followed. My mouth crept upward. I swiped at my runny nose. I could use my best friend now. If only Asher Price didn’t come attached. Fucker ruined everything. I scrolled through the rest of the texts.

  Addy: Warren says I’m borderline stalking you. I told him, it’s not wrong when you love someone.

  Addy: Remember how much you loved Italy? Especially that pasta dish topped with a fried egg and bacon? I will buy you all the fried-egg pasta you can eat.

  Addy: Please.

  Addy: Please.

  Addy: PLEASE.

  No more texts after that.

  I sighed and held the phone to my chest for a moment, where a deep ache had settled. The long summer months rolled out before me. No parents. No bestie. Dinners alone. I could take off on my own. Haul ass to some other state or even country. Lose myself in a foreign land where the colors were bright and the men willing. I’d done that before. But I was trying something new this time. Roots, I silently reminded myself. You’re growing roots. Plus my bank account was pathetic.

  Though my parents were well off, they had an entire philosophy on raising children. Part of it was not to contribute financially after a certain age. When I turned eighteen, I received a pat on the back and a welcome to the real world. Good luck. I took out school loans, maxed out my American Express. My credit score was in the toilet. I’d learned my lesson th
e hard way. Now I was trying to rebuild, recoup.

  Responsible, responsible, responsible, I mentally chanted to myself even as I reached for my laptop. Involuntarily my fingers clicked onto the Wild Minds website. An image of the band filled my screen. Just their silhouettes on a smoke-filled stage. My eyes found Ash instantly. I knew the curve of his broad shoulders, the square of his chin. My lip curled and I flipped off the screen.

  Their tour dates and locations scrolled by: London, UK. Paris, France. Barcelona, Spain. Stockholm, Sweden… A single breath caught in my chest. I tucked my middle finger away. Wild Minds would be in Stockholm around the same time as my parents.

  I switched screens and checked my bank account. Five hundred bucks. Enough to get me to LA. Impulsive Lily and responsible Lily were at constant war. Guess who won most often?

  I smiled as I booked a ticket for the morning. Addy would be so surprised. I’d get my BFF and my parents for the summer. And he who shall not be named wouldn’t be a problem. I wouldn’t let him. How hard would it be to avoid him? Those tour busses and private planes could be quite spacious. Man, I could work up a good denial when needed.

  I flicked on a light and started to pack. When done, I stood in the middle of my room. The roots I’d grown in Seattle were still shallow. Surely, they’d survive a temporary transplant. As soon as the summer was over, I’d settle down. I may even get a cat. A plant at least. Cats were creepy. They eat your face if you die.

  Yeah, I was responsible as fuck.

  Then

  I used to live as if tomorrow didn’t exist.

  Case in point, my current location: a random club in Frankfurt, Germany. I followed Addy as she weaved through the crowd. Blue strobe lights licked our skin. We’d just deboarded our flight from the States and come straight here. I was jet lagged as hell but also high on a new city, a new adventure. A heady combination. A DJ was spinning, the record heavy on the bass, I could feel the vibrations in my bones, beckoning me to move, to dance.