Treyton (A Savage Beasts Rock Star Romance Book 2)

by J. Nathan

  Suddenly, the guy’s grip loosened and his arm disappeared from my neck.

  I dropped to the floor, dragging big gulps of air into my burning lungs. Everything throbbed. My throat. My face. My ass where I’d landed. The muffled sounds around me filtered back into my subconscious.

  A thud landed beside me.

  My eyes cut to my right.

  The guy who put me in the headlock lay beside me, passed out on his side.

  I looked up.

  Reggie, our bodyguard, stood above me, looking ready to hurt any fucker who tried him. He pulled me to my feet and pushed me out the front door, using his body to shield mine. None of the others dared take him on or follow us out of the bar.

  Reggie shoved me into the backseat of the waiting car and slammed the door, disappearing back into the bar.

  I watched out the window. No one came or went as I massaged my sore neck and flexed my throbbing jaw. I rested my head back on the headrest, realizing how fucked I could’ve been had Reggie not shown up.

  The back door flew open.

  Instinctively, I shuffled away from it.

  “Relax,” Brielle said, sliding in beside me.

  “Where’d you come from?”

  She tipped her head. “You didn’t notice me from your spot on the floor?”

  Inwardly, I groaned. Why did Reggie have to bring her? I hated her seeing me looking weak—not to mention the condescension written all over her face. “I could’ve handled it,” I lied.

  “Yeah, well, I handled it,” she said, pulling an ice pack out of her handbag and smacking it to activate it. She held it out to me.

  I crossed my arms, refusing to accept it. I knew I looked like a sullen child. But, she always handled it. And I was starting to resent her for it.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, dropping the ice pack on my lap. She retrieved a bag of M&M’s from her handbag and tore into them. Anything so she didn’t have to talk to me.

  I said nothing. It had been a long time since I’d thanked her. Or Reggie for that matter. But we paid them for shit like this. They should’ve been thanking me. If I didn’t keep screwing up, they’d have nothing to do.

  Silence filled the backseat as our driver, with Reggie now beside him in the passenger seat, drove us back to the hotel.

  When the throbbing in my cheek felt like a bass drum pounding in my entire body, I finally picked up the ice pack and held it to my cheek. “Why are you even here?” I asked.

  Brie’s green eyes, beneath thick-rimmed glasses, cut to mine.

  “Overseas,” I clarified. “You never travel with us.”

  “I’ve been on tour with you for a month, and you’re just asking me why I’m here now?”

  “Yeah.”

  She shook her head, her dark pony tail swinging from side to side. “Are you really that dense?”

  My eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I can’t exactly clean up after you from continents away.”

  “Screw you, Brie.” I looked out my window and didn’t say another word. I’d been jumped by a group of massive Aussies and now she was gonna give me shit. No. Fucking. Way.

  Once we reached the hotel’s back door, Reggie held it open. I jumped out of the car without saying a word to anyone. I made it into the hotel, climbed the stairwell to the third floor, and entered my room. No one—not Reggie or Brielle—was going to make me feel worse than I already did.

  Brielle

  That son of a bitch.

  I’d learned early on that being a publicist could be a thankless job, but not until I met Treyton, did I truly understand what that meant. Reggie and I saved his ass night after night, and he didn’t see fit to acknowledge the effort it took.

  Treyton had perfected the art of purposely not thanking us. And it was pissing me the hell off. But I had news for the spoiled drummer boy. I wasn’t going to put up with his shit any longer.

  I stepped inside my hotel room, pulled off my glasses and tossed them on the dresser, then dropped onto the bed. I shouldn’t have felt so exhausted. I was twenty-seven for God’s sake.

  My phone buzzed in my handbag. I slipped it out to find a text from my boyfriend Keith. You up?

  I texted him back. Yup.

  Miss you.

  I pulled in a breath, surprised by his words. Oh yeah?

  And then there were no more bouncing dots. I probably should’ve reciprocated his sentiment. I probably should’ve done a lot of things.

  Keith hadn’t wanted me to go on tour with the band. Two months overseas was a long time. But, the truth was, our relationship was part of the reason I wanted to go. I needed to see if absence made the heart grow fonder. Needed to see if that spark I felt the night we met underneath the LA stars would reignite. Needed to see if I’d actually miss him.

  I couldn’t blame Keith for being short with me. I was lonely, too. I wanted to sleep next to someone. I wanted someone to hold me. I wanted to have a shoulder to lean on when the job became too stressful—when Treyton became too stressful.

  But, I was beginning to see, I didn’t necessarily need Keith for those things.

  Maybe the job had just hardened me.

  It definitely required me to act less human. My game face was always intact, never faltering. It couldn’t. I was in a dog-eat-dog world. And I was a pit bull. I had to be. Publicists were disposable in this business. I needed to keep this job and prove myself to everyone.

  I tossed my phone down on the nightstand and didn’t even bother getting undressed. I climbed under the sheets and an uneasy sleep pulled me under.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Brielle

  Changing countries like underwear was wearing on me. It was three in the morning in New Zealand, and my eyes were wide open. There was no shot in hell I’d fall back asleep, so I climbed out of the hotel bed and rummaged through my luggage. I knew I had some shorts and a sports bra in there somewhere. I pulled them out and threw them on, shoving my feet into my sneakers as I grabbed my keycard and made my way down the elevator to the lobby. The deserted lobby.

  No one even stood at the front desk as most guests were not arriving in the middle of the night.

  I heard soft piano music as I walked through the lobby. My chest constricted ever so subtly. The sound always brought me back to the days when my mom would play for me. My eyes scanned the large space, stopping on the black grand piano in the corner where the music drifted from.

  My head hitched back at the sight of Treyton at the piano.

  I stopped in my tracks, leaning against a far wall and watching him play. I’d heard he could play multiple instruments, but in the band, he only ever played drums. I’d never been privy to hearing him play the piano. And he was good. Damn good.

  Lost in his rendition of some classical piece I didn’t recognize, he didn’t see me standing there.

  I wondered why he was awake at three in the morning. Had jet lag plagued him too, or was he just a restless sleeper? And, out of everything he could’ve been doing—and usually was, why had he opted to play a concert for a deserted lobby?

  “You gonna stand there gawking all night?” his deep voice echoed through the lobby.

  Dammit. “I wasn’t gawking.”

  He didn’t look at me as he continued playing. “Bullshit.”

  Even though it was empty, there was no point yelling across the lobby, so I walked over. “I’m just surprised.”

  “That I can play?” he asked.

  “That you’re good.”

  He scoffed, never missing a note. “Ask the ladies how good I am.”

  “I’ve never seen one back for seconds,” I said.

  A crooked smirk tipped one side of his mouth. “You’ve been keeping track?”

  I rolled my eyes, though his eyes hadn’t moved from the keys to see my expression. “Why are you down here?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” he countered, the bruising on his jaw less prominent.

  “I asked fir
st.”

  His playing filled the silence that stretched between us.

  Was that his answer? Was he really not going to tell me? Were our interactions always going to be so strained?

  “Something’s gotta give, Brie,” he finally said, breaking the standoff.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This tension.” He finished his song. As the last few notes faded into thin air, his eyes cut to mine. “I wouldn’t want to mistake it for sexual tension.”

  I choked on a laugh. “I have a boyfriend.”

  He glanced around. “I don’t see him here. And now that you mention it, I’ve known you for what? Five years? And I’ve never met him.”

  “I keep my work and personal life separate.”

  His eyes roamed slowly over my body, and I’m sure he was noticing my sports bra and way-too-short shorts. “Is that so?”

  I nodded, crossing my arms to cover my chest. In doing so, I revealed my bare stomach.

  “Nice belly button ring.”

  Dammit. “It was a college mistake.”

  “They come out,” he challenged.

  I straightened my spine. But I knew, the upper hand I’d normally held by wearing my armor—my business suit, resting bitch face, glasses, and tight ponytail—was gone. I was a superhero without her cape. And I’d never felt so vulnerable under anyone’s gaze. “You haven’t answered my question, Trey. Why are you here?”

  “And you never answered mine, Brie. Why are you?”

  I growled, hating that I let him annoy me so much. I was a professional. Why was I bantering with an immature drummer? Realizing neither of us was going to back down, I did the only thing I could. I turned away from him and headed to the gym.

  “Nice shorts,” he called, clearly watching as I walked away. “Your man know you let other guys see so much of your ass?”

  “Careful, Trey. There’s this thing called sexual harassment in the workplace. I wouldn’t want to mistake your comment for that.”

  Treyton

  What the hell was that?

  My fingers itched. I stretched them out and began to play “Clair de Lune” on the piano. It had been one of the first songs I’d learned when my parents bought me a piano.

  I had an ear for music at a young age. Once I heard a song, I could just play it. A savant I was not, but my parents spoiled me with every instrument they could get their hands on, and I just began teaching myself to play without any formal training.

  I knew others would’ve been envious of my punk ass being able to play so well, but I needed the outlet. Being born addicted to heroin had not been the easiest start to life, but I escaped seemingly unscathed thanks to my parents who adopted me. Who knew where I would’ve ended up if they hadn’t.

  I glanced up from the keys, not needing to look to play. I scanned the empty lobby thankful that Brie hadn’t stuck around. I hated that she’d heard me play. That was my thing. I didn’t need to share it with anyone.

  Most people never ventured to the lobby in the middle of the night, so I normally had free rein if the hotel had a piano. Most modern hotels didn’t, but overseas I seemed to find one at every stop. I’d been playing a lot lately. I wasn’t sure what it meant. I just knew I needed it. I needed to let off steam somehow.

  My eyes focused on the sign that indicated the direction of the gym. Something about those tiny shorts. That damn sports bra that revealed more of Brie than I’d ever seen before. That belly button ring. They all had me…curious.

  Z always said there was more to her than met the eye. He called her a sexy librarian with a stick up her ass. I’m sure he called her more than that when she’d convinced us all that he shouldn’t have a girlfriend who was still in college. It made sense at the time. We were so successful with our lead singer being a single guy who could play into women’s fantasies. But now I realized no one cared who he dated as long as he was happy.

  I’d slowly come back into Z’s good graces after that whole ordeal. We still weren’t as tight as we’d once been. But I couldn’t be sure if it was because I turned my back on him or because he had Aubrey now. He had his new best friend and no longer counted on me for that role.

  I wasn’t bitter. Growing up and moving on was part of life. But the band ensured we’d always be connected. I don’t know where I’d be if we weren’t. Z, Cam, Marcus, and BJ were the only family I had since my parents died.

  I glanced to the gym sign, wondering what I’d find if I ventured in there. Wondering what other secrets Brie kept from us. But I knew, with much certainty, that nothing good could come from me following her.

  Brielle

  Tears trailed down my cheeks as I stood with my back pressed to the hallway wall, listening to Trey play my mother’s song. His beautiful rendition floated through the room as if an entire symphony played it. And as much as I’d wanted to walk away, I couldn’t bring myself to move.

  I’d purposely refrained from listening to “Clair de Lune.” Purposely eliminated it from any classical playlist for fear of hearing it when I least expected it. The sound of the once beautiful piece did nothing but bring me recollections of a life I no longer possessed.

  And as much as I wanted Trey to stop playing the song, something inside me wanted to hear it after all these years. Something inside me wanted to remember the happiness my mom brought to my life. I’d shut those thoughts away for so long because of the pain they caused me. But maybe it was time to remember who I once was. Someone my mother could be proud of.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Brielle

  A muffled version of Savage Beasts’ newest song “Fireflies” filtered backstage where I sat on the sofa texting the office. The audience joined in and sang along to the chorus with Z. The sound of over fifty thousand fans singing along still amazed me night after night. I’d never been a rock fan, but since being around their music, I’d begun to like it. Keith didn’t care for the band. He was into rap, so when Trey asked why he’d never met him, that was part of the reason. Telling him Keith thought their music sucked didn’t seem like a great idea, so I omitted that fact. I was a great omitter. I learned how to play that game early on. Learned how to walk the thin line between truth and fiction to spin a story.

  The New Zealand crowd erupted, and I strained my neck to see what the band had done to get them so riled up. Had Z taken off his shirt? That always got the women going. I couldn’t blame them. The guy was jacked. I stood and moved to the spot on the side of the stage beside Aubrey and BJ so I could get a better view. Z’s shirt remained on.

  Oh. It was time for Trey’s drum solo. The women loved that too.

  Onstage, Trey could really play. I wondered when his offstage antics were going to stop. When he’d steer clear of the trouble that seemed to follow him and outgrow the need to secure a groupie at every stop.

  Hearing him play the piano the previous night, lost in his own world, made me wonder what else I didn’t know about him. He’d always just been the screwup of the group who I had to bail out of bad situations before they led to bad publicity. But after last night, I found myself wondering why Trey was the screwup. What made him seek out girls and trouble like no one I’d ever seen before? I’d never questioned it. I always just accepted it for what it was. Trey being Trey. But now I was…curious.

  Before long, the guys stepped offstage. Z disappeared with Aubrey while the rest of the guys grabbed food and drinks and settled in, knowing they’d soon need to jump into the waiting vans to head to the airport.

  Groupies filled the area within minutes. I never paid them much attention, but for some reason I watched the ones flocking to Trey. He had no idea how good looking he was. He thought the girls all wanted Z. Girls did love a lead singer, especially one as guarded and mysterious as Z. But what Trey didn’t realize was he was the heartstopper. In the eyes of these girls, he was approachable and fun. I think he thought he was second best to Z. I was certainly not going to be the one to enlighten him.

  A little redhead with sle
eves of tattoos planted her ass in Trey’s lap as he talked to Camden and Marcus. She whispered in his ear, and I watched his face light up and his tongue ring roll over his bottom lip.

  That’s all it took.

  They both stood. He grabbed her hand and they slipped out of the room. It was that easy. He was that easy. I just hoped she wasn’t some big wig’s daughter. I wasn’t in the mood for cleaning up after him when we had such a long flight awaiting us to Japan.

  I ducked out to my waiting car. I wasn’t driving with the band to the airport since I tried to give us all space when I could. Once I sat comfortably in the back seat, I texted Keith. Morning. I stared down at my phone awaiting his response. With the different time zones, I needed to always check the time in the U.S. to be sure I’d catch him.

  Hey.

  My thumbs pressed away at my phone. What r u doing today?

  Work. You?

  Flying to Japan.

  Oh. That’s right.

  A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I’ll text you when we get there.

  K. And that was it.

  The car pulled out of the venue and made its way through the New Zealand back roads en route to the airport. I dropped my phone into my handbag, and my head fell back against the headrest. Our conversations had become forced. I knew it was the sign I’d been waiting for. The one that confirmed that our relationship had run its course. At twenty-seven, I wasn’t eager to jump back into the dating scene. There were so many creeps out there. Maybe holding on to a relationship that wasn’t working had been a safety net. Or, maybe I didn’t want to admit that I’d been part of the reason we failed. Because Brielle Patrick didn’t fail.

  The car eventually pulled up to a private airplane hangar. I unloaded my luggage from the trunk and made my way over to the private jet. My credentials were checked before I boarded, and I took my normal seat up in the front. The guys always took the back and I tried to stay out of their way. They only partially tolerated me being there. Especially, Z.