I don’t want to be cold tonight.
Not tonight.
I fall into his arms.
His hands slide down my back and grip my ass. He pulls me into his hips and grinds against me.
His tongue invades me and heat pours down my throat. I drink him in. His fire fills my belly. I’m lost in his arms, and never want to be found.
I moan into his mouth and he swallows my desire.
A hand wedges between my legs, and forces its way up to the crotch of my leather pants.
“I want this,” he seethes between his teeth, hissing into my ear. “I want to take you home.”
I’m stopped short by his sudden rugged behavior.
I can’t remember the last time I had sex with Scott. But I know one thing.
I haven’t been turned on like this…ever.
My eyes narrow as Kellan’s fiery gaze burns into me. Heat rushes up from between my legs and broils up around my neck. My abdomen is suddenly a furnace as I feel desire ignite me.
Need.
I’m ready to combust in the arms of this perfectly handsome man.
I shake my head.
No.
This is all a lie. How could I feel what I’m feeling for Kellan less than two hours after Scott betrayed me and broke my heart? No, this will never be more than a rebound fling, a cruel hoax. It can’t fix my heartbreak.
Only time will.
If I let things with Kellan go any further, I’m going to get hurt twice as bad as I already am.
That’s the last thing I need.
I mean, I don’t even know the first thing about Kellan. I don’t even know his last name.
His strong hand squeezes the wet softness between my legs, the fire that burns beneath my leather pants. I moan. It feels sooo good. Maybe just for tonight…
Just tonight.
“I’m gonna make you mine…” he growls into my ear, his voice low in his throat. “…all mine.”
The warm glow inside my belly goes from hot buttered rum to needles and glass in a split second. I freeze at those words. Scott’s words. He was like this in the beginning. Hot, passionate, dominating. When the heat and passion faded, his dominating nature didn’t.
I’m not going to fall for it twice.
I push Kellan away from me. In a strong voice, I say, “Stop. Now.”
He pulls back from me slowly. “You okay, Vic?”
No he didn’t. “Don’t call me Vic,” I glare at him. “Ever.”
The icicles return in my chest and I know this has all been a lie. A cold, hard lie.
He backs away and says in a vaguely confused voice, “Sorry, hey, what—?”
I slide into the driver’s seat of my Altima. “I need to go.”
He’s resting one hand on the open door and I can’t pull it closed.
“Hey,” he says softly, “I’m sorry. I kinda thought Victory was your stage name or something. I wasn’t sure what to call you.”
I scowl, “Then maybe you should’ve asked?” I pull my car door closed hard, expecting him to resist. Controlling guys always fight you on everything.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t resist and my door slams shut loudly. I jam my key in the ignition and start the car.
He knocks gently on my window. He’s now kneeling beside my car. The look on his face is different. Not Mr. Hot & Dominant any longer. It’s that same look he had earlier, an innocent bashful kid who wants to pick me flowers on the way home from school.
I roll my eyes as I roll my window down. “What?” I say, exasperated.
He leans his forearms on my doorframe, and rests his chin on them.
Why does he have to be so cute? I hate cute. I feel the ice melting again. Thankfully, the door is between us. I buckle my seat belt for safety. I don’t want to get in an accident with Kellan.
He smiles, “What about that pizza you promised for helping you move?”
“Some other time?” I try to smile, but I know I’m grimacing.
His eyes search mine for awhile.
I really hope he lets this go. At least for tonight.
“Okay,” he says softly. He stands and pats the roof of my car. “Drive safe.”
I watch longingly as he strolls to his motorcycle. I’m pretty sure there’s an all night pizza place somewhere in L.A. Maybe I should at least buy him a slice?
No, I need to be alone. I better go.
I drive off into the darkness.
Alone.
It’s for the best.
Chapter 25
VICTORY
I park my Altima on a twisty neighborhood street near the trail that leads up to the Hollywood sign. Expensive houses surround me and there’s little to no traffic up here.
I don’t like the idea of spending the night in my car in the middle of Hollywood, but I can’t afford to waste gas driving to someplace safer like Pasadena or the Pacific Palisades.
This will have to do.
The mostly orange lights of Los Angeles flicker in the distance. It seems so peaceful this far away from Sunset Boulevard, which has traffic on it 24/7, like most streets in L.A.
I’d love to own a mansion in the Hollywood Hills someday. I smile to myself. I already have one. It’s a bit cramped and doesn’t have a bathroom, but it does have a great view and bucket seats.
After I left Kellan at The Cobra Lounge, I parked on a side street six blocks away and started calling all my L.A. friends. I called everyone I could think of to ask for a couch to crash on.
Nobody answered.
Considering that my closest friends (Rex, Bobby, and Scott) are now my worst enemies, I’m not surprised. Unfortunately for me, I let my friendships outside the band fade over the last two years as I focused everything on my relationship with Scott and building up Skin Trade. The consequence is that my forgotten friends have most likely demoted my phone calls from “Oh, it’s Victory. I should answer this,” to “Oh, it’s Victory. I don’t have to answer this. I can call her back later. Much later.”
I can’t blame my old friends. I was the one who drifted away. Of course, when I woke up this morning, I would’ve sworn that Rex, Bobby, and Scott would always have my back, and you can’t be friends with everybody.
I guess I chose wrong.
Time to start working on my old L.A. friendships again. The idea lifts my spirits. I’ll start first thing in the morning.
I recline my seat back as far as it will go, which is nowhere because of the Marshall 4x12 speaker cabinet in the backseat. And my Line 6 and Marshall head take up the passenger seat. I guess I’ll be sleeping sitting up.
This blows.
Looking for distraction, I turn on my Altima’s radio. The first thing I hear is the middle of Sex Type Thing by Stone Temple Pilots. A sex type thing is
(Kellan)
the last thing I want to think about right now.
The next song I hear is Young In Love, the hit ballad by pop diva Layce. Poor timing, girl. I’ve got a ways to go until I’m young in love again. If it ever happens. I have a whole lotta heartbreak to work through first.
I twist the dial again.
It lands on Gangnam Style by Psy. I’m instantly grinning. That wacky tune always puts me in a good mood.
Maybe I need to call Lucas and Logan Summer. I know they haven’t forgotten me. They’d totally let me crash at their place, but it’s two hours away in San Diego. I’d have to drive back and forth for work. Not an option I can even remotely afford.
Man, I’m too close to broke for comfort.
That’s when it hits me. All those people after the show at The Cobra Lounge who asked me about guitar lessons. I should’ve been taking down phone numbers. They’re all potential paying students. I could be calling them all up tomorrow about giving them lessons instead of hoping they’ll look me up online and get back to me. But I blew them all off thinking I didn’t have time for them.
Hindsight is always perfect.
Oh well.
Maybe I need to take a few
days off work, drive to Bakersfield, and stay with my dad while I get my head together and figure out where to live and what to do next. I know Dad would love to see me and have me hang around the shop and work on cars with him. But that’s almost as far as San Diego and Dad will try to force gas or rent money on me, which I know he can’t afford. It’ll also feel like running away from L.A. when what I should be doing is putting a new band together.
On the radio, Gangnam Style transitions into Roar by Katy Perry. I crank up the volume. I’ve loved this song since the first time I heard it, no matter how jealous I am of
(sing)
Katy for getting to sing it.
(singsingsing)
I get shivers when she sings the first verse. It’s like she’s singing about Scott, or someone in her own life who was just like Scott, someone who pushed her around and told her what to do until it nearly broke her spirit. But she didn’t give up, didn’t let that person break her. She got angry, she learned to believe in herself, and she showed everyone how strong she was.
The chorus of Roar unfolds and I feel my body tingle.
Sing it, sister.
(don’t sing)
I can roar too. Whenever I plug my guitar into an amp and crank it up, I’m way fucking louder than a lion.
(never ever ever sing)
A wicked grin spreads across my face. I’m not letting Scott the Bastard get me down. First thing tomorrow I’m going to show my claws to the world and roar my ass off with my Fender and my Marshall.
(sing)
I refuse to give up on my dreams of being a big time
(singsingsing)
guitar hero.
Katy Perry repeats the chorus of Roar, and I can imagine the way I’d play her vocal melody on my guitar if I was on stage with her in front of a hundred thousand screaming fans while my guitar wails out the notes at a million decibels.
(SIIINNNNGGG!!!!)
I’m not giving up on my dream. It all starts tomorrow.
Tonight, I’m staying right here.
I punch the power button on the radio, shutting it off.
I fold my arms across my chest, determined to go to sleep. It doesn’t take long to realize it’s cold in my car. I can’t run the engine all night to keep the heater going.
I groan and pop the trunk with the inside latch. I stomp around to the back of the car and fish through my garbage bags.
Yeah, I’m a bag lady.
So what.
Pillows! Why didn’t I think to take the pillows from our bed? I mean, Scott’s bed. The “our” part of it is ancient history. I should’ve taken the blankets too. Let Scott sleep on a bare mattress. I consider going back to the apartment. Scott will probably be there. I don’t ever want to see his face again.
Scratch that idea.
I remember Kellan saying he wanted to take me home. So not what I need right now. I sigh audibly and smile to myself. Maybe…no. It would be the stupidest thing I could possibly do right now. Lucky for me, I don’t have his number, he doesn’t have mine, and I never have to worry about him again, thank goodness. He’s way too confusing anyway. I don’t care how hot he is.
And he called me Vic.
Some stupid voice in my head says, He didn’t know. It was an honest mistake.
I don’t want to think about it.
I bet his bed is really warm, the voice giggles coquettishly.
I don’t want to think about it.
Really warm…
I DON’T WANT TO THINK ABOUT IT!!!
I yank a hoodie and a pair of baggy sweats out of the garbage bag in my trunk and slam it shut. Damn it, I’m still wearing my stage costume. I’m not going to sleep in a studded leather bra and leather jacket. And skin tight lace up leather pants which are sticky from sweating in them dancing around onstage. If I spend the night in them, I worry they won’t come off in the morning without glue remover.
This is lame.
I growl as I walk back to the driver’s door and reach down to pop the trunk latch again. Then I sift through my garbage bags until I find a baby tee and my yoga pants. Why didn’t I change at the apartment when I had the chance? Because stupid Scott might have shown up at any second.
Stupid, stupid Scott.
Now I have to figure out where to change my clothes. I could change in the street, but there’s too many streetlights, and the ever present orange L.A. glow. And rapists hiding in every bush.
I’ll have to change in the car.
Peeling off a pair of lace up leather pants in the driver’s seat when you can’t recline the seat is something best left to experts, or a contortionist. I fumble my way through it, hoping no one is filming this, because if anybody’s watching, they’re getting a free show. All I ask is they cut me in on the deal when they sell the footage to TMZ. Who am I kidding? Nobody gives a shit about seeing my sorry ass in underwear.
Kellan does…
SHUT UP!!!!
When I’m in my yoga pants, extra sweat pants, baby tee, and hoodie, I slide on the pair of fake Ugg boots I bought at DSW. Now I’m hot from all the exertion. But it won’t take long to get cold, so I pull my leather jacket over me like a blanket. I remember I’m still wearing my make up.
I don’t even want to deal with it.
I reach into my purse and pull out my twelve dollar Tac Force rape knife. The rainbow blade pops open when you press a button on the back. Yes, the blade is rainbow colored and cost me an extra three dollars, but I’m a girl, and I’m worth it. I fold the blade closed and clutch it to my chest. So far, I’ve never used it on a rapist, but you never know.
I close my eyes and attempt to sleep.
In the silence, thoughts of warm Kellan keep teasing me. I’m never getting to sleep if I keep thinking about him.
I turn the radio on again. This time for moral support. Music has always been there for me when nothing else was.
Tonight is no exception.
Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus drifts out of the radio speakers. Whoever runs the universe couldn’t have picked a better song to play for me right at this moment.
I remember watching the Wrecking Ball video with the camera right on Miley’s face while she opened her broken heart to the world and cried out those lyrics. It really affected me when I saw it the first time. When I watched the director’s cut, which doesn’t have the cheesy footage of a naked Miley straddling a swinging wrecking ball but instead holds the camera on her tear stained face for the entire song, I was so touched by her vulnerability, I too was crying by the end of the video. There are a couple points in it where she is so overcome by emotion, she can’t even sing the lyrics to the song. I remember wondering what prick douche bag had done that to her, and when was he going to be executed for being such a total ass.
As Wrecking Ball plays, I’m smacked in the face by the line about wanting to open up your boyfriend’s heart and he pays you back by breaking yours. That describes Scott to a tee.
Images of him and his ugly mirrored face at The Cobra Lounge tonight assault me. Memories of all the times we fought because Scott said I was trying to get too close or was being too needy flood my brain. So many fights. For what? For nothing. Tonight he smashed everything we had all to pieces. As quick as Miley’s wrecking ball.
I feel you, girlfriend.
All men are wrecking balls. Show me one who isn’t.
I laugh cry as an image suddenly pops into my brain. Scott standing in front of a brick wall as a wrecking ball falls right at his face. Splat goes his tomato head.
Yeah, that’s what Scott deserves.
I can feel tears sliding down my cheeks. Good. I won’t have any makeup left to wash off by morning.
Stupid Scott.
Stupid fucking Scott.
I can’t believe he did this.
I start sobbing a few seconds later.
There’s nothing funny about how I feel.
Every muscle in my body tenses at the same time as agony spikes into me. My stomach clenches and I try
to fold into myself. I want to disappear. Sadness and hurt fight it out inside me. Confusion crashes into me. My world is now upside down.
This is going to be a long night.
The only thing I have to help me through it is my music.
I hope my car battery doesn’t run out before morning.
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Victory : Run 2
Find out what happens next week!
coming June 2014
Personal thanks from Devon Hartford:
Thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to live with Victory and Kellan for awhile! If you enjoyed Victory : Run 1, please leave some positive feedback on Amazon, Goodreads, or any book blogs you frequent. Be sure to tell your friends about it!
If you want to drop me a line, you can find me at any of the links below. I love to hear what you have to say, and I love to talk books!
-Devon
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===
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Devon Hartford fell in love with heavy metal from the first moment he heard an electric guitar. Years later, while in high school, he bought his first electric guitar with money he earned flipping burgers. He’s been playing ever since. Devon lived in Hollywood for many years and frequented many of the locations in this book.
LISTEN TO DEVON’S METAL HERE (if you dare)
OTHER BOOKS BY DEVON HARTFORD:
Fearless (The Story of Samantha Smith #1)
Reckless (The Story of Samantha Smith #2)
Painless (The Story of Samantha Smith #3)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A HUGE thanks to all my passionate and fantastic beta readers: Jenn Hedge (Beta Speed Queen), Sandye, Steffini Walker Texas Ranger, Rosanne Triegaardt, The REAL Julie England, Emaleth Morrigan (mermaid), Neicy Cassidy, Ashley Lorene Hall, Ange May, Eileen Fitzharris, Wendy Boyer, Stephanie Svajgl, Sandye, Sarah Welsh (a.k.a. Princess Frilly-Bottoms of the Land of Willow), Kimber, Natasha Slater, Mandy Jamerson, Tania Clark, Michele McKenzie, Kerrisha Budhu, Sarah Tree, Mandy Karsa, Renee Julian, Melanie Starr (My favorite Comma Bombar), Jordan Bault, Anna Lamonica, and Maria Combee for invaluable feedback and encouragement! You guys rock the typo sauce!
Victory RUN 1 Page 10