by Frank, Ella
“Then you might not wanna look over there,” Viper said, nodding toward two guys in deep conversation with each other on the other side of the room. When I realized who I was staring at, my jaw hit the floor.
“Is that—”
“Paul McCartney and Mick Jagger? Mhmm. Wanna go say hello?”
I began shaking my head before the words came out of my mouth. “No way.” Then I almost slapped myself, because when would I get the chance to meet two legends again? “Okay, yes. But later, once I drink this.” I reached for my glass again and took a long swallow as the room dimmed and everyone still roaming around took their seats.
The lights on stage began to flash, and then the screens came alive with a montage of music video hits over the last year. With each one shown, you could hear the screams of fans in the balconies, and when a clip of Fallen Angel popped up, the screams went from loud to thunderous.
Killian looked down the row at us and grinned. I knew exactly what that look said: we’d come so far, and tonight we should enjoy every second of our hard work paying off. And I, for one, planned to do just that.
Thirty-Three
Viper
ONE OF THE best things about this show compared to all the other bullshit award shows was that you could drink, which meant any mind-numbing part became tolerable with enough alcohol in your system. But tonight I had something far more entertaining to watch than whoever was on stage. Or someone, rather.
Beside me, Halo sat enraptured, his light eyes taking in everything. It was all so exciting for him, and that, in turn, made it exciting for me. He’d never met any of these people, had no idea who the douchebags were or who was so fucked on drugs that they wouldn’t remember you the next time you saw them. To Halo, everything and everyone was amazing, and that was one of my favorite things about watching the angel—his rose-colored view of the world.
The first half of the ceremony had come and gone by the time our first nomination of the night came up, and to Halo’s utter horror, it was Jennifer Aniston who presented the award. His reaction to one of the most famous women in the world had me chuckling, because it was the complete opposite of what most people would be thinking. Most would climb over their friends to get close to someone like that, but Halo? If we won, I’d probably have to drag him onstage.
She read off the list of nominations, and when she opened the envelope, there was a long, silent pause when I don’t think any of us breathed. But then Jennifer smiled and said, “Fallen Angel!”
Slade and Jagger were on their feet high-fiving in a hot second, Killian shook the hands of a couple of friends who moved to the end of the row where he stood, but my attention was on Halo, who wore a stunned expression and didn’t move.
“We won. Come on, Angel,” I said, but when I stood up and he still didn’t move, I held my hand out for his. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Levi clapping over our win and watching us intently, but fuck it. If he wanted Halo on that stage, it looked like I’d be the one to make that happen. At least until his shock wore off.
Halo took my hand, and I moved past him in the row so I could lead him down the aisle, Slade and Jagger bringing up the rear. He looked dazed as he seemed to finally clue in to the enormity of what was happening, and as we climbed the stairs, I squeezed his fingers, and he finally looked my way and grinned.
When we reached the podium, Jennifer was handing Killian the award. Then she turned to the rest of us and said, “Congratulations. I love ‘Invitation,’” and I was pretty sure my boyfriend’s head was about to spin right off.
As she walked by, Halo stared at her with wide eyes, and when she passed him, she patted his arm before standing off to the side to give us our moment.
Halo gaped after her and then looked at me. “Fuck. She likes my song.”
I chuckled. “You sound so surprised, Angel. You do remember what a kickass song it is, right? Aniston’s a smart woman.”
“No shit,” he said, still dazed. I could only imagine what was going through his head right now.
Killian looked back at the rest of us, and when we nodded for him to do the honors, he stepped up to the microphone to accept the award for us. But as my eyes swept across the auditorium, they landed on Trent, and suddenly, I had something to say after all.
I squeezed Halo’s hand before letting go and then stepped up beside Killian, who wrapped up the thank-yous and handed me the award. It was heavy in my hand, with a globe that sat on top of a triangular sculpture.
Levi had asked Halo to make me behave tonight, but he didn’t ask me, did he?
“I love you, Viper!” came a yell from the balcony, and I gave a cocky grin in that direction.
“I fuckin’ love you too,” I said, giving no shits about having to get bleeped on air. Not my problem.
As I rolled the award around in my hands, I looked straight in Trent’s direction. “I thought of something I wanted to say after all. Trent Knox,” I said, lifting the award up. “I’m sorry for being such a dick, but you leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us. The band, and me personally.”
Then I winked at Halo and grinned at Trent as I shot him the finger, chuckles and audible gasps ringing out across the room. But Trent smiled and shook his head before shooting me one right back. It was what he’d asked for, after all—an apology. And I’d given him one the only way I knew how.
“SO WE EACH get one of these?” Halo asked, as he looked down at the three statues in his hands. We’d just finished answering press questions after the show, and I’d pulled out my phone to snap a picture of him with the first of many awards to come for him.
“We don’t actually keep those,” I said, as Halo’s brilliant smile filled the screen and I took another shot. “But yeah, we’ll get engraved ones.”
“Wow.” He looked down at the statues again and bit his lip. “I don’t even know where to put these.”
“I gave mine to my mom,” Jagger said. “She likes to show ’em off to all her friends.”
“Oh yeah? Slade, where do you put yours?” Halo said.
Slade frowned. “I don’t actually know. I’m sure they’re somewhere…”
“Well, if it isn’t Fallen Angel,” came a deep, booming voice from behind us. The man sounded like no one else, and I knew who I’d see before I even turned around.
“Oh shit,” Killian said, grinning as he greeted The Warden—the guy who had taken Brian’s secret recording of “Invitation” and blasted it all over his social media. Basically, our success was in part to the tall rapper looking down at us.
“What’d I say?” The Warden said, a self-satisfied look on his face. “I knew that record was a fuckin’ hit.”
“Man, thank you for that,” Killian said. “You blew our shit wide.”
“Yo, you deserved it. The whole album is sick.” Someone in his crew tapped him on the shoulder then, and as he backed away, he said, “Y’all comin’ to the after-party?”
Jagger nodded. “Hell yes.”
The Warden gave a salute, and as he walked away, one of the show’s staff came by to take the statues we’d been given—duplicates for the show only, not the real thing—and then Levi led us out of the theater, where a long line of limos inched their way toward the exit. With everyone from inside now milling around outside waiting for their rides, the paparazzi swarmed.
“Fuck me, you’d think they’d have a better system for this shit,” I said.
“I bet we could walk there faster,” Killian agreed.
Levi shook his head. “There will be no walking anywhere except to your limo when it arrives.”
With a scoff, Killian said, “Course not. Because God forbid we break any rules or have any fun.”
His tone caught my attention, and when I looked his way, I noticed he was engaged in a stare-down with Levi, but whatever that look meant, I couldn’t guess, because about that time, Halo knocked into me, hard.
“Shit,” he said, as we both managed to catch ourselves before landing on
our asses. For a moment, I thought maybe Halo had had too much to drink and had simply lost his balance, but then I remembered he’d only had the one when the show started.
Before I could ask him if he was okay, Halo shot a glare over his shoulder at a twentysomething punk-looking paparazzo.
The guy elbowed his friend and snorted as he lifted his camera in our direction. “I told you fags were pansies.”
I whirled in his direction. “What the fuck did you just say?”
The punk sneered at me from behind his camera. “You heard me.” To Halo, he said, “Aw, did that hurt your feelings? You gonna get your cocksucking boyfriend to defend your honor? You’re disgusting.” He spat on the ground by our feet, and as I lunged at him, Levi grabbed my arm, holding me firmly.
“He’s just trying to provoke you to get a shot that sells,” he said. “Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
I gritted my teeth, hesitating. My head knew Levi was right, but I wanted to rip the guy a new asshole. Over Levi’s shoulder, I pointed at the jerk-off. “Not another goddamn word.”
When he didn’t respond, I reluctantly let Levi usher us through the crowd.
Until the dumb shit spoke again.
“What’d you have to do to get this job, huh? Suck Viper’s dick?” He shoved Halo, who deflected it this time, pushing him back.
I saw fucking red.
Before any of the guys could stop me, I jerked my arm away from Levi’s hold and charged the asshole who couldn’t keep his mouth shut or his hands off what was fucking mine. I was on him in a heartbeat, landing a punch to his jaw before he could see me coming, and as he stumbled back, his arm swung out, the camera in his hand nailing me in the back of the head. It hurt like fuck, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from leaping forward again, ripping the camera out of his hand and smashing it on the ground. Then I jerked him up by his shirt, and he squirmed like a caught fish in my hands, striking out at my face and catching me on the lip. I pulled my arm back and punched him again, and this time there was a loud crack. Blood trickled out of his nose and down over the corner of his mouth, but before I could nail the fucker again, I was being pulled back by multiple sets of arms.
“Viper, stop. Jesus, stop.” It was Killian’s voice, but my focus remained on the motherfucker in front of me until Levi stepped in between us, holding his hands out to stop us from getting any closer. My chest heaved, my entire body hyped up on adrenaline and needing to get in another hit or five before I’d be satisfied.
I charged forward again, but the strong arms wrapped around me held me back. The punk looked down at his camera, and when he realized it was completely shattered, he met my eyes with pure fury. I gave him a savage smile, enjoying the way the blood dripped off his chin, even as my gut twisted. It was one thing for that hate to be aimed my way, but to direct it at Halo? No. Fuck no. That wasn’t gonna happen.
“Viper.” Halo stepping in front of me was the only reason I took my eyes off my target. But one look at the sheer panic on the angel’s face had the fight draining out of me in two seconds flat. His eyes roamed over my face, his hand coming up to rest against my chest. It was a comforting move, not one to stop me from going anywhere, not that I had any desire now to be where he wasn’t.
As I focused on Halo and tried to calm my breathing, I became aware of cameras flashing all around us, capturing every second of what had just transpired, and shit. I had just lost my mind, and while I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what that said about me, I knew everything that’d been said to Halo would be printed. His family would read that. Other people would read that.
The thought ran through my head that this would be the breaking point. This would be the catalyst for Halo telling me this shit was too much. That even if he did care about me, it wouldn’t be enough to have to endure the harsh words and actions of those who disagreed with who we were.
I swallowed hard, a sinking feeling in my stomach as Halo softly said, “Viper? Let’s get out of here.”
Thirty-Four
Halo
“VIPER?” I STEPPED out onto the private terrace of our penthouse suite at Chateau Marmont with an ice bucket in one hand and some cotton balls, a tube of antiseptic cream, and a hand towel in the other, and as I made my way over to the patio table under the wide awning, my eyes drifted to the silent man who stood over by the balcony.
Viper had been so quiet on the drive back from the awards show this evening, and as he stood staring out at the sparkling Sunset Strip with a glass of whiskey in hand, I wondered what exactly was running through his head.
Tonight had been a whirlwind of activity and emotions, and as the cacophony was replaced with the quiet calm of a balmy summer night, we both had a chance to stop and examine every little thing that had happened.
There’d been some thrilling highs: attending my first awards show, winning and taking home three out of the four awards we’d been nominated for, and meeting Jennifer Aniston. But they’d soon been shoved aside by one major low: when that asshole paparazzo had gotten all up in my face and spewed his homophobic diatribe, making Viper lose his shit.
God, I’d never been the kind of guy to argue with my fists—not ever—but when that dickhead had shoved into me to get my attention, and then said those hateful words, Viper hadn’t thought twice. He’d launched himself at the man, shutting his mouth by planting his fist in it, only to then be smashed in the head with the guy’s camera.
I winced, remembering the sound it had made, and then placed the bucket of ice on the table and headed over to Viper.
“Viper?” I said again, slightly louder this time, and as I came up by his side, Viper turned his head to look at me. His lower lip was cut and slightly swollen, but other than that, his face was as handsome as ever, the main injury hidden under his hair at the back of his head. “Come over here, would you, so I can ice the cut?”
Viper took a sip of his whiskey. “You gonna play nurse for me tonight, Angel?”
I reached out and took his free hand in mine. “Well, someone’s got to. You obviously aren’t going to take care of yourself.”
As I tugged on his hand, Viper raised his glass to me and swirled the contents. “I’m taking care of myself.”
I snorted. “That might help the headache now, but it won’t later.” When I stopped by one of the chairs next to the table, I pointed to it. “Sit.”
Viper raised an eyebrow as he looked from me to the chair, and then back to me again. “Bossy.”
“Just do it.”
Viper took a seat as I picked up the hand towel and dunked one of the corners into the melted ice. After I’d rung it out, I walked around behind him and looked at the back of his head where I knew that asshole’s camera had come into direct contact. With gentle hands, I lightly brushed the hair away, and when a cut a couple inches long came into view, I grimaced. A small bump had formed, and there was some blood surrounding the immediate area, but the actual bleeding had stopped, thank God.
As I cleaned around the cut, Viper tensed and pulled his head away a fraction, before reaching for his drink and relaxing enough to let me get back to the job at hand. It didn’t take too long, and once I was done with the cleanup, I grabbed a cotton ball and the antiseptic and applied a liberal amount before I moved in front of him and pulled over an ottoman to sit down.
When we were face to face, Viper reached for me and trailed his fingers along the line of my jaw to my chin, and just when I thought he’d lean in and take my lips in a kiss, he lowered his hand, severing the connection.
Yeah, okay, my suspicions were spot-on. Even though the paparazzo had gotten all up in my face tonight, he’d also managed to get all up inside Viper’s head.
“Look at you,” Viper said as he glanced at the supplies on the table. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d done this before.”
“What? Doctored a banged-up head and bruised lip? Can’t say I have. Not really my style.”
“No?” Viper’s eyes came back to lock on to m
ine, an unreadable expression in his gaze as I shook my head.
“No.” I reached for a fresh cotton ball, then wet it with some of the icy water and brought it up to his bloodied lip. “Then again, no one’s ever done anything like that for me before either.”
As I gently dabbed at the cut, Viper flinched and wrapped his fingers around my wrist, halting my moves. “What? You mean no chick’s ever decked a guy for you? No wonder you switched sides.”
I rolled my eyes and tugged my hand free. “You’re crazy.” When Viper shrugged, I leaned in to carefully swipe at the cut again. “You could’ve been seriously hurt tonight, and what for?”
“You,” Viper said in an instant, that one word summing up every logical, and illogical, reason he’d had for starting a brawl in front of God knew how many reporters—not to mention opening himself up to one hell of a lawsuit with the way he’d smashed that guy’s camera and face. “I did it for you, Angel. And I’d do that, and a whole lot fucking more, if it meant protecting you.”
I lowered my hand and stared into Viper’s intense gaze, seeing the truth behind those words, and still it blew my mind to think that this magnificent man was all mine. I dropped the cotton ball onto the table and took his face between my hands, and this time I leaned in and took the kiss he’d shied away from earlier, and as our lips connected, Viper’s eyes fell shut.
A soft rumbling sound left Viper’s throat like a purr, and I scooted closer on the ottoman, craning my face up so he could take from me what he needed. But instead of deepening the kiss, Viper stopped and raised his head.
“Angel,” he whispered, his eyes opening as his warm breath floated across my lips. “What that asshole said to you tonight—”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, and kissed the corner of his mouth. “It doesn’t matter. He means nothing to me.”