Two months before he left, she ruined football for me, too. One Saturday when my dad and I were loading up the car to head four hours away to Pennsylvania to watch the Miami Hurricanes play Penn State, she stopped us at the last minute, telling my dad she was able to set up a meeting with a prestigious production company who wanted to look at one of his screenplays. But they would only see him that afternoon. We cancelled the trip, of course, and my dad waited three hours at a restaurant. He came home steaming mad. This was one of the fights I heard. He said he knew she was lying because he called the company and they had no record of anyone ever setting up a meeting. My mother made up excuses, telling him that his screenplays were shit and they must have decided at the last minute not to take the meeting. Producers do that all the time, she said. It’s just the nature of the business. When he accused her of setting up the whole charade to keep us from our road trip, she laughed it off, telling him he was silly to even want to take a twelve-year-old girl to a football game. That others would think he’s a dirty old man. I remember hearing a crash and running to my room.
The next day, my mother was complaining about how my dad broke one of her vases. My dad was complaining about how he hit his head on the bedpost in the middle of the night. I was too naïve to put two and two together. After all, women don’t hit men. They only hit children, right?
And even though I work the rest of my shift, if only as a distraction, it doesn’t stop me from thinking about a man who was once beaten by his own wife. A man who was once so ruined himself that he felt he had no choice but to leave his only child.
I hate him. But I hate her more. She broke him before she broke me. She’s lucky she’s already dead. Because if she weren’t, I would fucking kill her.
At six o’clock, Skylar insists things are slow and that I should go home early. I don’t fight her. Today has been emotionally draining and all I want to do is go for a swim and then pick up a bottle of tequila.
But as I exit the front door of Mitchell’s, two things catch my eye.
A stretch limo.
And the gorgeous man standing beside it wearing jeans and a White Poison t-shirt.
Chapter Nineteen
Stunned to see Ethan standing outside Mitchell’s, and even more surprised to see him wearing something other than his regular attire, I fail to see what he’s holding in his hands.
He waves something at me and I come closer to take a look.
Concert tickets to White Poison. I look up to question him.
“Rule number nine,” he says, smiling down at me. “A promise is a promise.”
I take them from him and examine them. I gasp. “Second row?”
“Yeah. We’ll not only get to feel their sweat, we’ll get to taste it.”
He never misses a thing, does he? I remember the customer who hit on me saying something about being close enough to feel their sweat. But that was weeks ago, long after the tickets had sold out. “But they sold out in minutes. How?”
He shrugs. “I know a guy who knows a guy.”
“And you just assumed I’d go?” I wave a hand at the limo. “And what’s with all the pomp and circumstance?” I narrow my eyes at him. “And how did you know I wouldn’t be working?”
I whip my head around to see Skylar standing in the doorway of Mitchell’s. She winks and waves at me before turning around, disappearing back into the restaurant.
“A conspiracy?” I ask him.
“Something like that,” he says. “After all, I’m practically part of the family now that I’m in on poker night.”
I roll my eyes. Then I look at his shirt again. And then down at my uniform. “But I’m not dressed properly. I’ll need to go home and change first.”
“There’s no time,” he says, opening the door to the limo. “We’ve got it covered. Don’t worry about a thing.”
We? I eye the inside of the dark limo speculatively.
“Oh, come on, Tate. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
I’ve never been one to back away from a challenge, so I give him a cheeky sneer and then duck into the limo. Inside, I slide along the long black seat, making room for him to scoot in beside me. I’ve never been in a limousine before. My mother never let me ride with her to premiers. It smells like leather and scotch and high-end perfume. If rich had a smell, this would be it.
When my eyes acclimate to the dark interior, I realize we’re not alone. “Oh, hello,” I say to the two people sitting along the seat that is perpendicular to this one. My eyes snap to Ethan in question.
“Charlie Tate, this is my brother, Chad Stone and his friend, Nicole.”
“Nikki,” she reaches over Ethan’s brother to shake my hand. “Wow, you have soft hands for someone who does manual labor.”
Manual labor? “Uh . . . thanks?” I say, still trying to figure out what is happening here.
I look at his brother, Chad. He’s so darn familiar, I ask, “Have we met?”
He laughs and looks at Ethan.
“She’s been out of the country for several years,” Ethan says, as if that explains their amusement.
My eyes dart to Ethan’s. “How did you know that? I never told you that.”
“Poker,” he says. “It’s amazing the kind of information you can learn from a bunch of drunk guys at poker night.”
My spine stiffens and a sick feeling worms through me. I don’t know about Griffin and Gavin, but I do know that Piper shared my secrets with Mason when she was trying to hide her own. What if he told Ethan? Oh, God. I look at him and try to see if there is any hint of disgust over what he would feel if he knew.
“Relax,” Ethan says, putting a hand on my thigh. “They just told me how you and Piper traveled overseas after high school. It actually sounds amazing. I’d like to hear about it sometime.”
“Oh.” I can’t help the sigh of relief that comes after.
Chad holds his hand out to me. “It’s actually quite refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t know everything about me.”
I shake his hand. “Why should I know everything about you?” I look between the three of them.
“Maybe it’s the name you don’t recognize,” Nikki says, hanging all over Chad like a cheap suit. “Does Thad Stone ring a bell?”
“Thad Stone?” I ask. I turn to Chad, studying him. “You’re Thad Stone?” Things start to make sense and my heart races. But not for the reason most women’s hearts race when they meet him. My heart races because I hate actors. I hate everything about them. The way they think they own the fucking world and everyone in it. The way they look down on other people. The way they feel they are completely above the law.
He laughs. “Yes. But by the way you’re looking at me right now, I’m not sure I want to be.” He winces. “We didn’t, uh . . . hook up or anything a few years back, did we? I’m pretty sure no matter how effed up I was I’d have remembered you.”
My jaw drops and my eyes focus on Nikki, who doesn’t seem to be the least bit affected by this conversation as she sips her glass of champagne.
“What the fuck?” I ask him, turning to Ethan because I’m completely confused.
“My little brother didn’t handle his sudden stardom as well as we had hoped,” he explains. “Chad went a little wild those first few years. I’m not afraid to say he scared the shit out of us with his reckless ways. But he’s good now. Got it out of his system.”
I eye his brother skeptically. No wonder he looked so familiar. I get it now, and it was the name that tripped me up. Thad Stone was the star of one of those high school drama series with a zip code or an area code or some stupid code. I never watched it, but even overseas, it was hard not to hear about all the hype surrounding the hottest new show to hit prime time television. It was cancelled a few years later and since then, I guess he’s starred in a few movies. He’s no Brad Pitt or Zac Efron, but he’s certainly on the radar.
“There’s always a price to pay when you become famous,” I tell him. “I guess that was yours.�
�
He and Ethan share a look and then Chad’s eyes fall to the ground. “No, that wasn’t mine.” He quickly recovers and hands me a glass of bubbly. “But hey, let’s not talk about shit in the past we can’t change. Let’s enjoy tonight. To new friends.” He holds up his drink in a toast.
“To new friends,” the rest of us say in harmony.
“You know, I’m familiar with you, too,” Chad says. “A little more familiar than my brother here would want me to be.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ethan shoots him a venomous stare.
“Oh, come on,” he says. “You know—her MM centerfold.”
Ethan slowly turns his head until our eyes meet. “You were an MM centerfold?”
I shrug and take a sip of expensive champagne. “Had to pay the bills,” I say.
He chugs his drink and holds it out for more. Chad laughs and then tries to fill Ethan’s glass without spilling now that we’re winding through the streets of the city.
“I met your mom once,” Chad says.
I was wondering if he would make the connection. All those Hollywood types seem to know one another.
“Splendid,” I say, sarcastically.
“She was a grade-A bitch,” he says, and I about snort my drink out my nose.
“Chad!” Ethan reprimands him. “Jesus, have a little compassion. The woman died not too long ago.”
Chad’s eyes go wide with regret. “Shit,” he says to me. “I forgot all about that. I’m really sorry.”
I try not to smile. He has no idea my initial impression of him just got a whole lot better.
“Thad, what’s in the bag?” Nikki asks, eyeing it hopefully.
Nikki must not be a long-time friend of his. Either that, or he wants people to call him by his stage name.
“That’s for Charlie,” he says, handing it to me. “Ethan said there wouldn’t be time for you to change so I picked up this shirt and had the guys sign it. It’s probably way too big for you, but I didn’t want to assume anything.”
I smile. I’m actually impressed he didn’t expect me to be a stick figure. More points for that. “The guys?” I ask, pulling a White Poison shirt out of the bag. Upon inspection, it has five signatures on the back. I don’t recognize all of them, but you’d have to be dead not to recognize the name Adam Stuart, the lead singer. “You know them?” I ask, then roll my eyes at myself for sounding too fangirl. “Of course you do.”
I unbutton my work shirt and take it off, revealing a skin-tight tank top underneath. I pull the t-shirt over my head, ignoring the stares I’m getting from everyone in the car. Then I expertly remove my tank top from underneath the oversized shirt without so much as a flash of my black lacy bra.
Chad raises his glass. “I like your date, bro. She’s got spunk.”
“This isn’t a date,” I tell him, gathering the extra material of the shirt and using my hair band to tie it off behind me, showing a small sliver of skin between the shirt and my pants. It’ll have to do. “More like an obligation.”
Ethan leans over and rubs my shoulder with his. “I prefer ‘promise’.”
“Whatever,” I say.
“Oh my God, I loooooove your hair,” Nikki declares, now that it’s free from the bun I had it in. “Men must drool all over you with that gorgeous red color. Is it real?”
“It’s real,” Ethan says, sharing a fist bump with his brother that I wasn’t meant to see.
“Toddler,” I say.
“How much longer, Thad?” Nikki asks. “I have to pee.”
“Just a few more minutes, Nik.”
I look between them, wondering what the dynamic is there, but not daring to ask. For all I know, she could just be his arm candy for the night.
“So, should I call you Chad or Thad?” I ask him. “And would you mind if I ask why you made the change?”
“Chad is fine, Charlie. And my agent suggested I change my name. Back when I was starting out, there was already an actor by the name of Chad Stoner. My agent thought my name was too similar. I didn’t really want to make the change, but he was pretty adamant. So I used the name Thad. It was actually what a childhood friend of mine called me because she” —he pinches the bridge of his nose— “well, it’s a long story.”
Ethan pats Chad on the shoulder sympathetically as they share a moment between brothers. She? I want to ask, but don’t.
The limo comes to a stop and the door is opened from the outside. We pile out into a back alley that, in darkness, would scare the living shit out of me, but by the remaining few minutes of sunlight, appears to be a private entrance into the concert hall.
“Right this way, Mr. Stone,” says a man with SECURITY written on his back.
We are ushered into a back door and through a maze of hallways and massive storage areas. The security guard hands us each a lanyard. “Make sure you have these on at all times. The band is right through those doors,” the large man says. “Enjoy your evening.”
“The band?” I ask Ethan with wide eyes.
He takes my lanyard from me and puts it over my head, carefully pulling my hair out from under it. He’s so close I can smell him. I inhale his scent and it does things to my body that I’m glad no one else can see in the darkened hallway.
He holds the laminated card up in front of my face so I can just make out the bold white letters. “All access?” I ask, looking up at him. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
He laughs. “Come on, let’s go meet the band.” He pulls me by the hand through double doors into a huge lounge area with couches, chairs, a pool table, even a bar with attendants.
There are a lot of people in here. Dozens at least. Maybe more. It’s not hard to spot the band. Although I’ve never seen them, it’s obvious who they are based on the number of half-naked female bodies draped on and around them. To be fair, the girls do have clothes on, it’s just that most of their skimpy tops seem to be suffering from wardrobe malfunctions at the moment. And from what I can tell, the bigger your boobs, the closer you get to the band.
I look down at my ample, yet clearly lacking chest, thinking I wouldn’t get within ten feet of them even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I haven’t met any famous musical groups before, but I’m sure they suffer from the same affliction as actors—self-absorption.
“Thad!” yells one of the men sandwiched in tits. “Hey mate, glad you could make it.” He stands up, sending two girls tumbling off his lap without so much as an apology.
I’m a bit stunned by his British accent. Funny how when singing, most foreigners sound American.
He walks over and gives Chad a man-hug. Then he looks at me and Nikki. “And who are these lovely ladies you’ve brought with you?”
“This is Nikki and Charlie,” Chad says. “Girls, this is Adam Stuart.”
Nikki practically topples me over to get to him. Tugging her revealing shirt even lower before she shakes his hand, she says, “Oh, my God, you’re Australian? But you sing American.”
Chad and Adam share an incredulous look over the top of Nikki’s head. “British, not Australian,” Adam says. “And it took years of practice to learn your language.” He winks at me and I roll my eyes.
Ethan leans into me and whispers, “Can I use the blonde joke now?”
I laugh.
Adam steps around Nikki and holds his hand out to me. “Charlie, it’s very nice to meet you.” He rakes his eyes up and down my body despite the fact I’m the most covered-up female in the room with the exception of the servers. “I dig your shirt,” he says reaching out to touch it. “I’d very much like to see it on the floor of my room later.”
Ethan’s hand intercepts Adam’s and he shakes it. “I’m Ethan, Thad’s brother.”
Adam looks between the two, taking in the resemblance. “No shit?” He shakes his hand hard. “Well any brother of Thad’s is a brother of mine.” He takes two steps back and nods his head at me. “Sorry about that, mate.”
He calls the rest o
f the band over to introduce us. “Feel free to hang out in the wings during the show,” Adam says to the four of us.
Ethan raises his brows and shrugs a shoulder as if asking me if I’m good with that.
“Uh, I don’t know,” I say. “This is my first concert and I think I’d like to experience it like everyone else.” I look around at stunned faces. “I mean, if that’s alright with you guys.”
“For real?” Adam asks. “This is your first concert? As in ever?”
I nod, embarrassed that I’ve now drawn so much attention.
“That’s unbelievable,” he says. “But, wow. I’m honored you’ve picked us for your first. I hope we don’t disappoint.”
The lights flash and a big burly man gets up off his perch on a barstool in the corner. “Thanks for coming everyone. The band goes on in thirty. If you’d like to take your seats for the opening act, now would be the time.”
I guess that’s our cue to leave. They probably need time to practice or focus or meditate or whatever the hell they do to get ready for the show. Adam grabs a scantily-dressed blonde girl before she reaches the door. He whispers something in her ear that has her face splitting with a smile as she hangs back with him instead of being herded out with the rest of us. Okay, whatever it is.
As we exit the lounge, Chad tells us he and Nikki are going to hang backstage, and for a minute I feel guilty about asking Ethan to forgo that. I lean over to tell him, but before I can get the words out, he holds up his hand. “Charlie, no way. I know what you’re going to say. But you must absolutely experience this like every other concertgoer. You’re in for a real treat.” He grabs my hand and tingles of sensation make their way up my arm.
Stone Rules (A Mitchell Sisters/Stone Brothers Novel) Page 12