And call it an ingrained survival instinct, but I thought better than to pour more fuel on a smoldering fire right now.
“Does it hurt?” I asked, trying to smooth things over.
Shit with Vivian had gotten complicated lately. Or maybe it was just me. I was a fucking mess.
Things with the band weren’t the greatest. The radio interview had been a disaster. Jose had been right, Molly, the DJ, had been more interested in whether I had a girlfriend, than the tour we were on. And after we were done, she offered to take me into the break room so she could suck my cock.
I didn’t take her up on it, just so we’re all straight. I hadn’t even been tempted. There was something really unappealing about a girl with a Miss Piggy tattoo on her neck who offered to let you spooge on her back. So I had respectfully declined.
While we waited in the lobby for Jose, Jordan had turned on me. He claimed I had hogged the interview time. Was he not in the same room as I had been in? How could he miss Molly’s blatant come-ons? I couldn’t be the only one who had caught the innuendo behind the question: “Do you like it in the dark or with the lights on? Performing that is.”
“You think you’re the fucking star of the show, Cole! You need a reality check! This is a band! There are four of us! We’re all equal here! If you can’t remember that then maybe I need to remind you,” Jordan had snarled and I felt myself getting pissed.
“I can’t help it if she was more interested in my cock then our music! Why the fuck is that my fault?” I had yelled.
Jordan had tried to punch me then and being the ninja that I am, I had dodged it. But I hadn’t expected the sucker punch when I bent to pick up my phone that had fallen out of my pocket.
Next thing I knew Jordan and I were both bleeding and the frightened little receptionist was threatening to call the police if we didn’t leave.
Maysie and Jose had separated us before it escalated further. And when Jose had me cordoned off in the back of the bus, he took his opportunity to remind me of my “options.”
“They don’t understand that you’re the one the public cares about, Cole. This will only get worse. Jordan already resents you. The bigger you get, the more those three guys are going to try to hold you back. You need to think about the big picture here and what’s best for you long-term,” Jose had said and I didn’t want to hear it.
Jose and his “go out on your own” pep talks were fucking with my head. And Jordan’s negative attitude was making the possibility look pretty damn appealing.
Despite the testosterone overload Jordan and I had made peace and we entered into an uneasy truce. That is until our publicity photo shoot the next day. And then shit hit the fan all over again.
Yeah, so a bunch of the pictures were of me. Yeah, the guys had felt slighted and felt like crap about it. But what was I supposed to do? Tell them no? Why didn’t they see that if people liked me, they liked the band?
It resulted in me getting the silent treatment from Jordan and Mitch, who was starting to piss me off as much as Jordan was. Garrett didn’t seem happy either, but at least he wasn’t pulling the whiny little girl act like the others.
And Jose kept giving me the See, I was right looks every time I glanced his damn way.
I was a mess.
And then there was Vivian.
Because in all this craziness, the only person I wanted to talk to, the only person I wanted to see, was Vivian. Vivian who drove me mental. Vivian who seemed to look for any chance to be angry with me.
I was really losing my shit.
“I’ll live,” Vivian said shortly, obviously still irritated with my less than sensitive remark.
“When you come to see me in Raleigh next weekend, I’ll take care of you,” I said, sleazing it up.
“Who says I’m going to see you next weekend?” Vivian asked snidely.
I grinned, feeling comfortable and back on familiar ground. I loved Vivian’s bitchy attitude. Even if she hated that I loved it.
“Because Mitch said you were coming down with Gracie. Why? Was it supposed to be a surprise?” I teased.
“No. I just wasn’t sure it would be a big deal if I was there or not,” Vivian said flippantly but I knew she meant it.
She really had no idea how fucking excited I was that she was coming to Raleigh. How excited I got each and every time I knew I would see her.
“It’s a big deal, Viv. You know intimately just how big a deal it is.” I chuckled as I shoved my hand in my pants, stroking myself as I thought about all the things I wanted to do to the beautiful girl on the other end of the phone.
“I know that voice, Cole. You’re jacking off, aren’t you?” Vivian laughed. A deep, throaty sound, that sent blood rushing straight to my dick. I pumped my hand harder.
“Fuck yeah, I am. Talk dirty to me, baby,” I pleaded, already feeling the tingles in my belly. I was about to come like a thirteen year old.
Hard and quick.
“How about I tell you all the things I’m going to do with my mouth.”
And it was all over.
After my phone call with Vivian, I cleaned up and joined Garrett at the front of the bus. Mitch was hanging out with the dudes from Primal Terror, Jose was working on his computer, and Maysie and Jordan were noticeably absent. I guess I wasn’t the only one blowing a load.
“Whatcha workin’ on?” I asked, listening while Garrett tinkered with a new song.
“Just something that’s been buzzing around in my head for a while. Though it’s not clicking the way I want it to,” he said, strumming the worn strings of his guitar.
I started to tap my hands on my knees in an upbeat rhythm in time to Garrett’s playing. “What if Jordan took a solo here?” I suggested, smacking my knees frantically.
Garrett grinned. “Yeah, I like that.”
I ended up finding Jordan’s beat up acoustic and jamming with Garrett for a little while, helping him polish the song he had been messing with. Mitch joined us a bit later and bobbed his head in time to our playing.
Jordan and Maysie came wondering out from the bunks and sat down with the rest of us. Jordan didn’t say anything about me playing his guitar. Instead he grabbed a pair of drumsticks and started stringing together a beat on the table.
Garrett started singing and the lyrics began to flow. We all worked together and the music was effortless. There wasn’t any tension; egos were checked. This was just the four of us doing what we always did. Creating stuff we were proud of.
For all of our arguments and bullshit, when it came to our music, we just got each other. In a totally non-pussy way, of course.
A couple of the guys from Primal Terror ended up jumping in and it became one gigantic musical orgy. Musical masturbation at its finest.
And when we pulled into a diner off the interstate to eat dinner, everyone was in a pretty good mood.
“That song is going to be pretty awesome,” Jordan said as we sat down at the table. Maysie handed out menus. Jose nodded his agreement.
“Definitely. I think it just needs more of a vocal presence and it will be tight.” Jordan’s mouth tightened and I could see Mitch’s fists clenching. I didn’t say a damn thing. Though I agreed with Jose totally. A little more singing and it would be the best song we had ever written.
But then I would be accused of hogging the limelight. Why didn’t they just get me a T-shirt that read: Generation Reject punching bag?
“The label would love it. It’s got a great edge with enough radio appeal to make it work in the mainstream market. And with Cole’s vocals all over it, it will be fucking perfect.” Jose nodded his head.
“Hmm,” Jordan grunted and Garrett shrugged.
The good mood we had all been in sort of fizzled out and died and now we were left sitting together awkwardly.
“Maybe I could have another verse between the drum solo and the last guitar riff,” I suggested, figuring I had as much a right to be heard as the others.
Mitch snorted. “I t
hink there’s more than enough vocals in the song as it is,” he said and I wanted to punch the smirk off his face. I also noticed the look he exchanged with Garrett.
I got the feeling I had missed out on a lot of meetings lately.
“What’s the problem with putting another verse in there at the end? I think it would be cool to end the song on the vocals rather than a fade out on the guitar. It would be more dramatic and shit,” I said.
“Yeah, cause we need more of your dramatic shit, Cole,” Jordan sneered.
“What’s that supposed to mean, man?” I asked, trying to keep my temper in check. This was not the place to put my fist in Jordan’s smug face. Maysie was already talking to her boyfriend under her breath. Probably trying to get him to settle down. I didn’t need the intervention.
“Nothing. Forget it,” Jordan backed off, though I knew he had a lot more he wanted to say.
I looked around at the rest of my band and none of them had the balls to look me in the eyes. These guys were supposed to be my friends. So why did it feel like I was the ugly redheaded stepchild in the group?
Jose was pointedly looking at the menu. He had stirred up this hornet’s nest and now he was backing up and letting the destruction go down.
“So let me get this straight, it’s cool for Jordan to get an overindulged drum solo. Garrett can riff away even if it sounds like shit. And Mitch can have all the input that he wants, but when I make a suggestion, there’s a fucking problem?” I slammed my fist down on the table, causing the glasses to rattle.
“I think you get more than enough glory for the rest of us, Cole. So don’t play poor, pitiful bitch,” Jordan’s voice rose to meet mine.
“So that’s the problem. The fact that some stupid chick played twenty questions about Cole. And I had a few pictures taken that didn’t include you guys. So that’s a reason for you to play poor, pitiful me and get your panties in a bunch. Are you not getting enough attention, Jordan? I thought you were done with the strange now that you’re a one-woman man. But if you need me to toss some your way, I’m happy to do it,” I laughed hatefully.
Maysie looked like she was just as ready to punch me as her fiancé. But I just didn’t give a fuck. I was sick and tired of feeling like the bad guy because I was doing my job. I was the lead singer. I was supposed to be front and center. So why was it a problem all of a sudden?
“You need to be taken down a peg or two,” Jordan growled and I laughed again.
“I dare you to try,” I taunted him.
“Enough you two. This is ridiculous!” Garrett barked, leveling both of us with a shut- the-hell-up-before-I-make-you-choke-on-your-teeth look.
“He started it,” I said, sounding like a two year old. But I didn’t care, because it was true.
“You’re both asses, so shut the fuck up and eat your goddamned dinner,” Mitch piped up.
“Mitch is right. This isn’t the place. If you guys need to talk your shit out, do it on the bus without an audience,” Jose reprimanded and Jordan finally settled backed down in his seat.
Maysie had been quiet and I knew I had overstepped by making the comment I had about Jordan. Even though she annoyed the shit out of me, she was still a decent chick and didn’t deserve that.
“Sorry, Mays,” I said under my breath and only for her ears. She nodded and gave me a tight smile, though I knew, despite my apology, it would be held against me for a while.
There were no attempts at further conversation. We all sat like the uncomfortable fuckers that we were, eating our dinner while my “friends” tried not to look at me.
When we finished, Maysie and Jordan went to the convenience store next door to load up on supplies, Mitch went to have a cigarette and I was ready to get back on the bus and head to my bunk.
“Cole,” Garrett called out from behind me.
I slowed down and let him catch up. Out of all the guys, Garrett was my closest friend. He had given me a place to stay when my dad kicked me out of the house. I had been with him when he found out his parents died. We had been through some stuff. I had thought we were tight.
But he never once disagreed with the shit Jordan said. That led me to believe he agreed with him.
That he thought I was a limelight stealing fame slut just like the rest of them.
Maybe we weren’t as tight as I once thought.
“What?”
“That shit back there was fucked up. You and Jordan need to deal with your beef before it starts impacting the band,” Garrett said and I got immediately defensive. I felt as though, once again, I were being blamed for everything.
“I think Jordan needs to get a handle on his own insecurities and low self-esteem. It’s got nothin’ to do with me.” I started walking toward the bus.
“That’s BS and you know it. You’re not helping things. We’re called Generation Rejects. Not The Cole Brandt Experience. We’re not your back-up band, you know.”
I turned on my friend and got into his face.
“I’m sick and fucking tired of defending myself. But let me remind you, I’m the lead singer. I’m the one who sings every fucking night and gets the audience off. I’m the one who interacts with the crowd while you hide behind your instruments. You guys need to realize that I make this band what it is. I bring those bitches in the door. Fucking accept it or go back to playing Barton’s. I don’t give a shit.”
“Do you hear yourself, man? I think you actually believe that line of junk coming out of your mouth,” Garrett said with a shake of his head.
“You guys would be nothing without me. Let’s remember until I came along you were getting booed off every stage. You would still be playing dime shows at Barton’s for the drunk and ugly. Be thankful I’m here. Show some fucking gratitude,” I growled.
And then Garrett punched me!
The motherfucker punched me!
I couldn’t remember the last time Garrett had been in a fight. I was so in shock that I couldn’t do anything but stand there and stare at him, my hand cupping my jaw.
Garrett shoved me hard in the shoulder and I stumbled backwards, catching myself before I fell on my butt.
“That’s what I’m talking about! Your ego has always been something to laugh about. You’re a dick, we get it. You’re the slutty lead singer. Way to go for being a stereotype. But I think you need to remember where you came from, dude.”
I rubbed my skin and grimaced.
Garrett had hit me. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“You all right? Did I knock your brains out of your ass or something?” Garrett asked, not looking so angry anymore.
“I’m just still trying to figure out how you landed a punch,” I said.
Garrett chuckled. “Cole, I can kick your ass any day. Do I need to remind you of the tenth grade?”
“I tripped. It had nothing to do with you hitting me,” I argued, remembering all too well what he was talking about.
I had kissed Carmen Jenkins, the girl Garrett had been drooling over for months. I had been young. Carmen was cute and had a thing for basketball players. Garrett had caught us underneath the stairwell at the back of the high school.
He punched me. A lot like he had just done.
And that time I had fallen on my ass. Though I swore it had more to do with the book bag at my feet than his fist.
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that,” Garrett smirked and I knew we were cool again.
For the moment.
Marion had agreed to let me take Friday off so I could travel to Raleigh. Provided that I have the outline for the gala plans on her desk for approval by end of business Thursday, which was in less than five hours.
I was almost finished and was just putting the last touches to the proposal and budget plan. Theo and his team had already approved most of my suggestions. I was only finalizing the minute details. The event was less than a month away and I was already flustered with trying to keep everything straight.
The gala was going to be amaz
ing though. I had even impressed myself in how easily everything had come together. Once I had the idea for The Fading Blue theme, it was like a dam had burst and my creative juices wouldn’t stop flowing. Everything from ice sculptures to a silent auction that would include an Alaskan cruise through the glaciers.
I would have a big projection screen with images of the ocean and ice caps and placards on the table with facts and figures about global warming and rising sea levels.
The colors were simple yet classic. The decorations bold yet not overwhelming. It was meant to give the attendees the feelings of being underwater. Of being surrounded by a great open expanse.
Personally, I thought it was going to be incredible. And Theo seemed to think so too. Every suggestion I made was the best thing since sliced bread. His enthusiasm was sweet and flattering.
I had been working my ass off for weeks and I think even Marion was stunned.
The phone on my desk rang, startling me out of my single-minded focus on facts and figures. Who would have thought Vivian Baily would find numbers so consuming?
“Vivian Bailey, Events Coordinator. How can I help you?” I asked, loving how cool and professional I sounded. I still got a thrill out of saying my title.
“Hi, Vivian. It’s Theo,” his rich, warm voice said through the phone.
“I know,” I said, smiling. I had come to recognize his voice instantly, considering how often he called me during the week. I had come to look forward to it. What usually began as a conversation about work, typically devolved into a discussion about anything and everything else. And he was interested in absolutely everything I had to say!
Theo chuckled nervously. No matter how much we spoke, he continued to stumble over himself. It was refreshing to talk to someone who didn’t think the sun shone out of their own ass. I had learned that a lack of ego wasn’t a bad thing and that arrogance was sexy, modesty was too.
“What can I do for you, Theo?” I asked, lingering over his name.
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