by Amiee Louise
Seb rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t say what he thinks because he knows that I will punch him. He thinks that my car is a shit heap, but she is my pride and joy. I took a mechanics class, watched many videos on YouTube, and bought a pile of books on restoring old American muscle cars. My dad got her imported from the States as a present to cheer me up, and I immediately set to work my 1967 Chevy Camaro SS. It was my first restoration project—after I split with Callum I needed something to take my mind off what happened, so I turned to fixing her up. I completely rebuilt the engine, had it resprayed, restored the upholstery, installed a kick-ass sound system, and changed all the wheels. It took a long time, but I managed it with a little help from my brother, Dexter, and my dad. But a month ago, she broke down on my way to work, and she has been in the garage ever since. My dad paid for her to be fixed, and I’m finally going to be reunited with my pride and joy.
“I’m going to pick her up now!”
Seb smiles. “See you tomorrow, sweetie. Be careful and have fun.”
He kisses me on the forehead before I leave the shop. An hour later, I am back at the flat with my beloved car parked in the underground garage. Even though I took a little longer to get back home, I am back before Ruby, which is unusual. I dump my stuff and go into the bathroom, shower in record time, and by the time the flat door slams shut, I am doing my make-up in my full-length bedroom mirror.
“Hey, babe.” She sounds fed-up. I smile as Ruby leans in my bedroom doorway.
“Hey.”
“God, Isaac is such a prick; he kept me after hours and sounded me out in front of everyone. I was so fucking embarrassed I wanted to punch him.”
Her voice is so full of anger I instantly stop what I am doing.
“Are you sure you’re OK, sweetie? You know you don’t have to put up with him treating you that way, put in a harassment complaint.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t, babe. He is a powerful man; he’ll make sure I never work in advertising again.”
I roll my eyes and keep my opinion to myself before she bites my head off. Instead, I carry on with applying my make-up. She walks away knowing that I’m right. I opt for a pair of leather shorts, a black Guns N’ Roses vest top, fishnet tights, and black patent Doctor Martens. I team my outfit with a pair of black feather earrings and a candy skull necklace. My tattoos are on show, and as I look in the mirror, I am happy with my outfit choice. Ruby comes to the door with a glass of wine in her hand.
“I think I’m going to stay in tonight, babe.”
I find her choice to stay in very unusual. Ruby loves the male attention, especially the rock star variety and she loves a gig. I thought she would be chomping at the bit to go to a Rancid Vengeance gig.
“Are you sure everything’s OK, babe?”
She nods and smiles, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. I instantly know that something is wrong.
“Rubes, talk to me, babe.”
Her eyes glaze over as if she wants to say more, but she swallows a large gulp of wine.
“It’s nothing, honey. Honestly, please don’t worry about me, just go and enjoy your date.”
She smiles, and I hesitantly grab my bag.
“I don’t want to leave you this way, babe.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Just go now, or I’ll drag you out of the door myself!”
We both laugh.
“Give him one for me!” she says with a wink.
I kiss her on the cheek and reluctantly hug her goodbye. In the underground garage, I unlock my car and get in. It is good to be back behind the wheel. I start the engine, and she roars to life straight away. I crank up the stereo for my daily dose of rock, opting to listen to a Rancid Vengeance album called Carpe Nocturne that I downloaded and drive the thirty-five-minute journey to my date. All too soon, I am pulling into the car park, getting out, and going to the stage door of the o2 arena in London. I go to the front of the queue, and a bunch of girls are giving me dirty looks and whispering to each other. The large burly security guard looks me up and down.
“Let me guess. You’re here to see one of the guys? Nice try, sweetheart.”
I frown, and he rolls his eyes as if he has heard that so many times before. I clear my throat.
“Actually, I’m here to see Sam, my name’s on the guest list if you wouldn’t mind checking, please?”
I flutter my eyelashes and put on my sweetest voice.
“Name, please?”
He looks bored, and I look up at his large frame.
“Peyton Harper.”
He checks his clipboard and clears his throat.
He smiles warmly and nods. “Apologies, darlin’, these girls will do anything to meet the guys, but Sam’s expecting you.”
“Thank you.”
He lets me through the door, and the other girls at the door are left dumbstruck as I wander through the brightly lit corridor. There is a hustle and bustle of roadies setting up and carrying equipment down the wide corridor. I text Sam quickly.
I’m here, wandering the corridors looking for you
P x
Suddenly, I collide with a tall, lean figure. I look up, and my smile fades as I see who I have bumped into. J.D, of all people. His all-too-bright white smile is creepy and reminds me all over again why I instantly took a dislike to him. In fact, I think I hate him.
“Ahh, Peyton, my love, how nice to see you.”
As he emphasises the word nice, I know he is being sarcastic, and he is less than thrilled to see me. But guess what, buddy, the feeling is mutual.
“I heard all about your shenanigans with lover boy last night, my darling, in great depth. I told him you’re no good for him, but he seems to think he’s fallen for you. I’ve warned him it will end in tears, but I’m pretty sure those tears won’t be his by the time I’ve finished, sweetheart.”
He grabs my arm.
“I’ve told you before you don’t fucking scare me, J.D. What the hell is wrong with you? What is your fucking problem?”
He leans in close, and I can smell the scent of his too-strong Hugo Boss aftershave mixed with alcohol. He is about to say something else when someone clears their throat behind him.
“Johnnie, I’ve told you to leave her alone,” Sam says sternly, and I snatch my arm away from J.D’s grip.
I turn to look at Sam, and he is looking especially sexy tonight. He is wearing tight, black-leather trousers that emphasise his impressive package, black cowboy boots, and a tight, black, Rancid Vengeance vest defining his muscled and tattooed arms. His hair is a messy spiky style, and he is wearing black eyeliner. Sam puts his hand at the small of my back, and before he leads me down the corridor, J.D leans into my ear and whispers so only I can hear him.
“Just remember this; Sam won’t always come to your rescue, sweetheart.”
He winks, and Sam leads me off down the corridor. He opens the door to the dressing room which is empty and unusually tidy and definitely not what I would expect from four male rock stars—I was expecting beer and groupies. “Where are the other guys?”
Before he answers, he backs me against the wall and claims my lips with his. He pulls away and looks deep into my eyes.
“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he whispers in a voice that instantly makes me bite my lip. “It’s taken all my willpower not to just show up at the shop. I can’t seem to stay away from you, you’re like an addiction.”
I reach up and stroke his freshly-shaven face.
“I’m so sorry about last night, Sam. I truly am.”
He pulls away and pulls a chair out from the dressing room table. When he sits down, I sit down on the sofa opposite him, and our eyes lock. It is taking all my strength not to sink down to my knees and take his length in my mouth. He smirks.
“Having those naughty thoughts again, babe?”
I laugh. “You have no fucking idea.”
“Oh, I think I do. I’ve been having the same thoughts all fucking day, and I haven’t been able to co
ncentrate on anything else.”
Without much thought, I bite my lip.
“Don’t bite your lip, please, or I will take you right now on this floor and we can’t because we need to talk, and I need to be on stage in an hour,” he rasps, and we both laugh.
“So … what happened last night? I wanted you to talk to me, but you were pretty God damn adamant you wanted me to leave.”
I pause and swallow back the lump that’s forming in my throat.
“It’s complicated. Fuck, I’m complicated.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not an answer, Peyton. I need to understand what’s going on in your head. I have fallen so hard for you. I want you so fucking bad it physically hurts. I couldn’t sleep last night because I was terrified that I’d lost the only good thing to happen in my life in a really long time.”
Shaking my head, I tell him, “I’ve fallen hard for you too, Sam, really fucking hard. I can’t deal with how strong my feelings are in such a short space of time. My feelings for you consume me.” Taking a deep breath, I let it out with a sigh. “Callum hurt me so badly he had me convinced that no other man would want to be with me, that I was somehow damaged goods. After we split, all I did for the first few weeks was cry and blame myself, then Ruby practically dragged me out of the flat and convinced me I needed to move on. So I moved on, or should I say moved under another man, or numerous men, just to get him out of my system. How fucked up does that make me?” I laugh bitterly at the thought. “I turned into everything I despise and vowed I’d never be. It took a long time for me to come to terms with that and the fact that I’d probably never be that blissfully happy ever again and then you walked into the shop.”
He smiles and moves to the sofa next to me. He subconsciously strokes my arm willing me to continue.
“You walked into the shop and into my life. It was like my whole world was in HD again.”
We both laugh before I begin to speak.
“I know it sounds cheesy, but as soon as I saw you, I knew.”
He strokes my face, and I lean into his hand.
“Fuck,” he curses.
“When I saw those photos last night, I didn’t blame you; I wanted you to sit down with me and talk it out. I definitely didn’t want you to kick me out—fuck. Do you know what I did after I left? I called Jax, and we went to the nearest bar and got absolutely shit-faced. I ended up blurting everything out to him.”
I nod.
“I blurted out everything to him, and he understood. I was a mess after I left, an absolute mess and he talked me down. It took a lot of fucking vodka to convince me not to call you or just turn up on your doorstep. He confiscated my phone and took me back to the hotel where we’re staying, put me to bed, and then went off with some groupie from the hotel bar!”
We both laugh. However, I look at him puzzled.
“Wait, Ruby said that she had sex with Jax in the restaurant toilet.”
Sam’s eyes widen, and he is about to say something when the door swings open. The other three band member’s walk in all dressed in their stage attire.
“Did she? I think that might be news to Jax, babe.”
Jax looks at me with a smile. “Hey, Peyton!”
Jax slumps heavily down on the sofa next to me, and I know that our conversation is over.
“What’s news to me, dude?”
“That you shagged Ruby in the restaurant toilet.”
Jax laughs hysterically.
“Did I? Wow, that must have really escaped my attention. No, she got a phone call, and she started acting weird. Then she just left abruptly. I’ve been calling her all fucking day, but she won’t answer my calls or my texts.”
I frown. It isn’t like Ruby to lie to me. She is usually so honest, and we tell each other everything. Why would she lie? What could possibly be so bad that she feels the need to keep it to herself?
“I’m sure she has a logical explanation.” I try to stand up for her.
“She sucked me off under the table in the restaurant. Jesus, that girl could suck start a leaf blower! We were in the toilet about to fuck, but she got the call, and before I could protest she ran off like someone had lit a fire under her cute little arse.” Jax smiles and shakes his head at the same time. “Fucking women!”
He rolls his eyes, and a tall, slim woman walks in with Latino features. Long waves of caramel-coloured hair flow around her face and shoulders like a halo; she has dark brown eyes and the most amazing cheekbones I have ever seen. She smiles brightly as she sees me.
“This must be the famous Peyton I’ve been hearing about all day,” she says in accented English. Sam stands up and pulls me to my feet.
“Peyton, this is Blu, she is our make-up artist and stylist,” he introduces her fondly. I smile, and she air kisses me on both cheeks. Very European.
“I’m so happy to meet you, Peyton; Sam’s told me all about you.”
I nod and raise my eyebrows at Sam.
“All good, I hope?”
She laughs. “Of course all good, my darling. He hasn’t stopped talking about you all day.”
Sam pushes her playfully. “All right, babe, I’ve got a reputation to keep up, you know!”
She laughs and flicks her hair over her shoulder. A sure fire sign of flirting, automatically making me think that she and Sam have a romantic history. I dismiss the thought and suddenly feel out of place in a room full of rock stars and their entourage. Sam grabs my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“Come on; let me give you the backstage tour,” he says excitedly and leads me out of the dressing room.
Brody shouts from sitting on top of the dressing table, “Wa-hey! We all know what our Sammy’s backstage tour consists of!”
All the guys shout and cheer as we leave.
“I’m really sorry about that, please just ignore them, babe.”
I smile and can’t help but worry about Ruby. I vow to call her as soon as the gig is over. Two men are in the corridor carrying a drum set between them. One is bald, one has long black hair, and they both wear a Rancid Vengeance vest.
“Peyton, these two are our roadies, Donovan and Caleb.”
They both put the drum sets down with ease and grin.
“Pleased to meet you, Peyton, I’m Donovan.” The man with the long black hair reaches for my hand and shakes it.
“I’m Caleb.”
Caleb shakes my hand, and Donovan shoves him out of the way. They playfully grab and shove each other. Sam rolls his eyes.
“Don’t worry, they’re always like that, they’re brothers.”
I nod and smile. I am overwhelmed at meeting new people and being thrust into the world of Rancid Vengeance.
10
Peyton
The backstage area of the venue is bustling with people wandering around, and I am in awe of the way Sam handles himself around the people close to him. His bandmates and the people who work for him. He seems so confident and so at ease with the idea of fame. He handles the female and press attention like a second nature, as if it is all he knows.
When we get to the side of the stage, all I see is a sea of people chanting, “Vengeance, Vengeance, Vengeance.”
I look up at him and smile. He pulls me into him, and I feel his erection digging into my thigh.
“That’s what you do to me, baby; I have no idea how I’m going to get through the show with a raging stonk on!”
When our mutual laughter dies down, he leans down, and his lips claim mine as his. Every time he kisses me, it’s as if he needs me to breathe. I hear a noise and pull away from him. I look over his shoulder, startled.
“What was that?”
Sam smiles and strokes my face.
“You worry too much, babe. Just relax, I’ve got you,” he whispers and reassures me. He brushes his finger across my bottom lip tenderly. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Peyton, I promise.”
He gazes into my eyes and leans down to kiss me passionately on the lips. His tongue
slowly caressing mine and claiming me as his—his one and only. I reach down and stroke his growing erection through his tight jeans.
He thrusts his pelvis against me and whispers against my lips, “Baby, please not here, I want it to be more than just a knee trembler in a dark corner. It’s not about just sex with you. You’re not like the others, you’re special.”
I smile mischievously and carry on stroking him, his erection bulging through the material of his tight trousers.
“Something about you makes me feel bold and invincible.”