by J. Nathan
I dropped my face into my palms. Why the hell had Trey done it? What hadn’t he told me? I wanted to believe him, but what was I supposed to do when he wouldn’t tell me the truth?
Trey and Flow—two guys in the public eye—fighting at a music festival in front of hundreds of people would be fodder for late night talk shows and gifs for years to come if I didn’t make this right. Not to mention my father was ready to replace me as their publicist as soon as I failed.
If only I knew the truth.
I stood and moved to the door. It was late, and the crowds outside had thinned. A heaviness weighed on me as I walked to the bus beside mine. I sobered my features, straightened my spine, and knocked on the door. I stepped back once it opened and Camden stood there, his green eyes narrowed and boring into mine. “Yeah?”
“Where’s Treyton?”
“I don’t think he’s got anything to say to you.”
“Do I look like that will stop me?”
He scoffed, almost amused by my I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude.
“I hope you’re decent, boys,” I called, pushing by Cam and climbing onto the bus.
Marcus played the guitar beside BJ, who clearly was on their bus to avoid me on our bus.
My eyes jumped around the bus. “Where is he?”
“You sure you wanna do this right now?” BJ asked.
I cocked my head.
Knowing I wasn’t one to give up that easily, he ticked his head toward the back of the bus.
“You mind giving us a couple of minutes?” It wasn’t a question.
BJ, Marcus, and Cam begrudgingly made their way to the door and off the bus, closing the door behind them.
My lungs expanded on a long, deep breath as I stalked down the short hallway. Of course Trey took the bed in the back and made Marcus and Cam take the bunks. I didn’t bother knocking. I just threw the door open.
Trey nearly jumped off his bed where he’d been sprawled out in only his boxers. “Jesus Christ, Brie. I could’ve had a girl in here!”
“So?”
“I could’ve been jerking off?”
“And?”
He shook his head, unamused by my nonchalance or my appearance in his bedroom.
“We need to talk.”
He stood up and I stepped back. His height was imposing in such close quarters, not to mention his bare chest in my face.
“I think we’ve said all that needs to be said.” His tone was flat and his eyes cold.
“I’ll say when we’ve said enough.”
He hitched a brow. “Careful, Brie. You work for us.”
I ignored his threat. “I want the truth.”
He scoffed. “Why? You already took his side.”
I jammed my index finger into his chest. “Whose side I want to take is yours, you stubborn ass.”
He grabbed my hand against his chest and held onto it there. “Why? Why do you want to take my side?”
My eyes pled with him to stop questioning me, but it didn’t stop my pulse from slamming into the wall of my chest. Could he feel it?
He loosened his grip, but instead of letting go, he laced our fingers together. “Why, Brie?”
A shiver coasted over my body. I tried to ignore it. “Why’d you fight him, Trey?”
He shook his head.
Between our close proximity and the fact that he was holding my hand, my heart had become a jackhammer close to breaking free. He had to feel it. “Tell me.”
His eyes lowered, studying my lips with careful appraisal. “I was doing the right thing for once in my life.”
“The right thing for who?”
“Someone I care about…” His eyes lifted to mine. “More than I should.”
I swallowed hard. “You’re talking in riddles.”
He chewed his bottom lip, clearly stalling so he didn’t have to answer my questions.
“If you’re not going to tell me the truth—” I turned to leave, but he didn’t release my hand, pulling me back into his chest.
I stared up into his blue eyes, waiting him out.
He was the one who’d pulled me back but now he looked conflicted over it. His eyes darted away from mine and his jaw ticked. “He said some things about you.”
“What kind of things?”
His eyes cut back to mine. “Things a man does not say about his publicist.”
“I work in a man’s world, Trey. I can handle guys being guys.”
He closed his eyes as if it pained him to hear me say that. “God dammit, Brie. You shouldn’t have to.”
My eyes rounded.
“Your client said he planned to do filthy things to you.”
My tough façade faltered. “He said that?”
“He said that. And I needed to be sure he knew if he disrespected you, he’d have to deal with me.”
Every part of my body stilled as a knot inched up the back of my throat. Trey had been looking out for me.
“But what did you do?” he said. “You took his side.”
“You didn’t tell me what he said.” It sounded so pathetic now.
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
Trey had been standing up for me. I was the someone he cared about who he shouldn’t. I was the one who he was protecting. I was the one who screwed up. Not him.
Dammit.
Tears stung my eyes. I blinked them back. I would not cry.
Trey tilted his head, his eyes assessing mine—obviously noticing my bravado wavering. He slanted his head forward.
I held my breath.
He inched closer.
Our mouths were dangerously close. I could feel his breath, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his lips.
“You need to leave, Brie,” he said.
I blinked, my words a mere whisper. “What?”
“You got your answer. Now you need to leave.”
I sucked in a sharp breath as my eyes lifted to his.
His were narrowed coldly as he dropped my hand and stepped back. “I shouldn’t have had to tell you. You should’ve trusted me.”
I threw my hands out to my sides—embarrassed, frustrated, and pissed. “Right. Because you’ve given me so many reasons to trust you.”
His voice lowered. “That right there is why you need to get off my bus.”
Heat pulsed in my cheeks as I spun away from him and stormed down the short hallway to the door. I shoved it open, unable to get off his bus fast enough. Between my embarrassment, shock, and anger, I didn’t know who was the bigger asshole.
Him or me?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Treyton
Drum it up to a misunderstanding…
Sources at the scene of the Hungarian music festival fight say Treyton Collins, drummer for the rock band Savage Beasts, misheard up-and-coming rapper Flow Houz when he complimented their shared publicist. That’s all it took for Collins to go to battle. “It was a huge misunderstanding,” a source close to the rapper said. “Both men agreed to move on from it and shook hands for good measure.” “There was a lot of drinking and testosterone flying at the festival,” an onlooker said. “No harm, no foul. We’re all just here for the music.”
I stared down at the words on my phone the following morning as I lay in bed on the bus, feeling foolish for believing for one second that Brie wasn’t a conniving bitch who spun stories and used people to do it. I saw the way she spun the fight. I saw the word misunderstanding tossed around because she’d put it out there, claiming I misunderstood that asshole.
I didn’t give a fuck that people saw me punch that fool. The world needed to know the way he talked about women. The way he assumed all women were objects and only good for one thing. Too many of these guys used women in their videos and as topics for their lyrics, disrespecting them in ways I’m not even sure the women realized. That’s why I’d been honest with Brie—omitting his crude words to spare her embarrassment.
What pissed me off was she knew he’d disrespected her, but still made it l
ook like a misunderstanding. That’s why guys like him got away with the things they did. The Brie I thought I knew would’ve called a guy out on that shit. But what did she do? She played Switzerland so she could have her cake and eat it too.
I guess the wannabe rapper’s paycheck was more important than her self-respect. Or me.
Brielle
I was thrilled to be leaving Hungary when our bus caravan departed the concert grounds around 8 p.m. the following night. I stayed on my bus that day, wanting to keep my distance from everyone after what happened the previous night.
We drove through the night en route to Austria. We were spending our day off there before arriving in Munich for two concerts. I sat at the small table, my cell phone casting the only light in the bus. It was midnight somewhere near Austria, which meant it was around 3 p.m. in California. I sent off a text to Irene, the office secretary, hoping she hadn’t left yet. Send Flow Houz a disengagement letter.
I popped M&M’s into my mouth as I waited. My foot bounced restlessly beneath me, hoping Irene texted me back sooner rather than later. And hopefully it wasn’t after she ran to my father. Irene had worked for him since he began Artists Limited. She was a mother figure to him, though she still feared him like most did.
My phone pinged. Your father will never agree to that.
Regardless of her loyalty to my father, I was never working with Flow again. What Trey told me he’d said pissed me off. I’d worked hard to be taken seriously in the entertainment industry. Some wannabe rapper wasn’t going to disrespect me by assuming I wasn’t a true professional.
My anger fueled my fingers. Then send him a termination of services letter from me. Arthur can have him. Arthur was a leech. He’d grab onto any artist if he thought it would benefit him. He had no morals and could justify representing anyone. In his eyes a sexist perv wasn’t a murderer, so what was the big deal?
You sure about this? Irene texted back.
I knew handling it via text showed weakness, but it was so much easier than dealing with my father who’d surely tell me to suck it up, without concern for what Flow had said about me. Absolutely.
* * *
I gazed out the bus window at the Austrian hotel, an actual castle. It was a little before two in the morning, but even through the darkness, the view was exquisite. I couldn’t wait to explore the castle with its towers, wooden doors, gothic style windows, and sprawling property.
“Maybe you should hang back,” BJ said, walking out from his room in the back of the bus with a small suitcase. “I’m going to get the guys checked in first.”
I nodded, watching him exit the bus and walk into the hotel.
BJ always checked the guys in so they could go right up to their rooms without being seen.
I waited, watching out the window. Z, giving Aubrey a piggyback ride, escorted by Reggie, made their way into the hotel a short while later. I wondered if they’d seen the news story. Wondered if Aubrey thought I did the right thing.
Camden, Marcus, and Trey stepped off their bus. I pulled back so they couldn’t see my silhouette through the tinted windows. Trey’s head hung down as he walked, clutching the straps of his backpack.
I waited a few minutes before checking myself in. While I waited for my keycard, I glanced around the lobby at the old wall tapestries, high ceilings, and elaborate chandeliers. Then I noticed the piano to the right. My chest constricted, knowing Trey would’ve spotted it too.
With my keycard in hand, I moved through the lobby and rode the elevator to the fifth floor. I followed the sign toward room 525, checking the small golden plaque beside each door as I walked. A door to my left flew open and Trey stepped out into the hallway causing me to jack up.
He stopped short, startled by me standing there. We stared at each other for no more than a couple of seconds before he stepped around me and walked down the hallway.
A knot formed in my stomach. How could he be that angry with me? How could he think I’d throw him under the bus over some stranger? Hadn’t he seen the news story?
I wanted to follow him and demand he talk to me, but I’d done that in Hungary and it ended in an epic fail with me being kicked off his bus. I heaved a sigh. If he wanted to speak to me, he would.
I finally found my room and jumped right into bed. After a few hours of tossing and turning, daylight arrived. I showered and dressed in sneakers and clothes for hiking. I’d scheduled myself on The Sound of Music tour weeks ago, eager to see all the places where they filmed the movie. Now, starved for sleep, I wasn’t as eager.
I hurried through the hotel lobby to meet my group. I spotted the band laughing and all geared up for their own excursion—one I clearly hadn’t been invited on. I tried to ignore the disappointment stewing within me, but it sucked that for a fleeting moment, I felt included and part of the group. Within seconds, all of that had been ripped away. And I had no one to blame but myself. I’d jumped to conclusions. I’d turned my back on someone I was just beginning to know better and understand. What did I expect?
I spotted the woman in the lederhosen holding The Sound of Music sign beside a white van. I climbed into the van filled with excited families en route to Salzburg where we’d board our tour bus. As we drove through the picturesque Austrian streets, I tried to lose myself in the movie soundtrack playing inside the van. But trying to lose myself and actually doing it were two totally different things.
* * *
I hobbled into the hotel six hours later as the sun had already begun to set. My feet ached from all the walking across Salzburg. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy seeing all the locations in the film: The garden and fountain where Maria and the kids danced. The convent. The Von Trapp’s house where most of the movie took place. The gazebo where Liesl jumped from bench to bench and Maria kissed the captain. And the church where they were married. It was a magical day.
But now, back at the hotel, I felt alone. I had no family who checked in on me. No friends who just wanted to say hello. And no one to even eat with. I needed to leave. Not for my father but because I didn’t want to be there anymore.
Munich would be my last stop.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Brielle
Our three-bus caravan pulled into the concert venue in Munich a few hours before the band’s first show. After sound check, I made sure the meet and greet area backstage was ready before greeting the lucky fans who’d won the opportunity to meet the band.
The guys filed into the room and took their spots in front of the concert venue’s backdrop. Not one of them even acknowledged I was there. Hadn’t they seen the story? Hadn’t they realized I didn’t place the blame on anyone? Their reactions definitely affirmed my decision to leave the tour.
I walked to the hallway where the fans were waiting impatiently. Their smiles beamed once I entered, knowing I was what stood between them and the band. “Hi, everyone. You ready to meet the guys?”
They screamed, some of the girls breaking into tears.
“Okay. Just a few rules,” I said. “Two at a time. Say your hellos then work your way to the open spots between the guys. You can take a selfie or have me take your photo.”
They were all nodding their understanding as their eyes jumped eagerly between me and the door.
“Okay, let’s get started.” I pointed to the two girls in front wearing the matching Z T-shirts. “You two are up first.”
They squealed, nearly bouncing out of their shoes.
I escorted them into the room. They practically jumped into Z’s arms. Poor Aubrey. It was a good thing she was secure in their relationship because the women loved Z. The girls greeted the rest of the guys then one of them handed me her phone before snuggling in between Z and Trey.
“Ready?” I asked, holding her phone up so I could get them all into the picture. “Smile.” I couldn’t help looking at Trey through the screen. He didn’t smile. Was he purposely being defiant because I’d asked them to smile?
The girls said their g
oodbyes, retrieving their phone from me before the next two people, a wife and husband, hurried into the room. The woman handed me her phone before greeting the guys. Once they talked to them for a few minutes about the tour, they stood amongst them. “Okay, smile,” I said, getting them all into the picture. Again, Trey didn’t smile.
The remainder of the meet and greets continued that way. Me taking pictures and Trey not smiling. That was completely unlike him, since he was the fun-loving member of the band who usually made every fan feel comfortable.
Once the last two fans left, the guys walked toward the door, eager to get ready to take the stage.
“Treyton,” I called with conviction in my tone.
The guys all mumbled as they walked out of the room with Trey trailing behind them.
Son of a bitch.
I stormed out of the room, stalking backstage where everyone grabbed food or drinks. I walked right up to Trey whose back was to me and stepped in front of him. “You heard me.”
His brows squished together.
“You’re acting like a child. Act like a man.”
The way the room fell silent told me all eyes were on us, but my eyes were only on Trey.
He grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me toward a door on the far side of the room. My feet fought to keep up as he moved us through the door and into a hallway, slamming the door behind us.
I expected him to yell at me.
To glare at me.
To fire me.
But instead, he walked into me so I needed to step back, right into the wall.
He caged me in, his hands pressing to the wall above my head. And just like he had the other night on his bus, he slanted his head so our faces were close. “Fuck me?” he asked, the deep timbre in his voice menacing.
I swallowed hard. Having him that close was daunting, especially with him pissed at me and me even more pissed at him. I remained focused and angry. Because I was. How dare he ignore me?
He shifted his hips, his unexpected erection pressing into my stomach. “Does a child feel like this?”