He didn’t come back to the hotel that night or even the next. After his first show, I’d been closed out. His second show, she didn’t allow me backstage, and by his third when we left for Manchester, she had me near tears with how she isolated us both. Then last night, at their show, she got me escorted out of there.
So, today, I ran off to explore. I didn’t know much about Manchester, or Europe, for that matter. Especially not the aspect of getting around. In the end, I kept walking and eventually turned up at a pub. They didn’t take American money, but the manager felt so bad, he gave me a pint anyway.
That night, I called Madden and didn’t get a response. Lack of communication as a lawyer—divorce attorney or whatever—meant he wasn’t doing something I approved of. Or at least, in most cases.
Was he fucking someone else? Getting high? Ignoring me? Anxiety and insecurity coiled around me, squeezing until I felt breathless and in desperate need to run far away.
This wasn’t how this tour was supposed to go. Right?
It wasn’t like me to care this much. Not once did I think Brandon fucked around. And with how many times he called and sent me texts the last several days, it proved he still cared in some aspect.
“Can you call me back?” I complained to his voicemail. I’d do anything to choke him out right now, show him that I didn’t need him to be happy, but I wanted him to communicate.
With obsession came an unhealthy amount of anger and resentment. As I sat in the hotel with nothing to do, I almost went to my room to use my battery-operated boyfriend. It’d show him I didn’t need his cock or touch to get off.
Yet I couldn’t disobey him.
The burning desire to do just that got me moving anyway. I undressed quickly, grabbing my massive wand. Laying on the bed, I spread my legs, pressing it against my clit. Even just the pressure had me close to coming. I’d been so worked up since arriving here, and Madden being absent wasn’t helping.
I snapped a picture of me, sending it to him. I’ll fuck myself then. He didn’t respond and the heated anger inside me had me recording my vibrator against my clit.
Turning it on, the first setting had me shaking already. “Shit,” I gasped, knowing how close I was without trying. Pressing Record, I rotated it against my clit, moaning so loudly, my stomach fluttered.
After ten seconds, I felt a massive bubble inside me build. Not wanting to risk Madden’s entire wrath, I stopped, sending him the video.
Two minutes later, my phone rang.
“Hello?” I answered, that one word filled with pride and amusement. If he couldn’t talk to me unless my pussy was involved, I’d be throwing it at him at every fucking chance.
“You’re not about to break the fucking rules, Andy,” he growled, his voice impatient and unkind.
“Guess I have no choice since I’m wound up and you’re too busy for me.”
“You knew coming here would—”
“Don’t start with me,” I hissed. “I went on tour with Dox many times and always got to go where he went. Your cunt of a manager just doesn’t like me.”
“Hmm,” he rumbled, amused, losing the tinge of anger. “Sounds like my little demon is jealous.”
“Fuck you and fuck her.”
“Is that what has you so riled up, you think I’ve fucked her?” he taunted, his voice stark with a type of power I hated giving him.
“Shut up, Toland.”
“Oooh,” he taunted. “First names now?”
“I’m hanging up.” Rustles met my ears before his voice deepened.
“Will fucking her make you happy?”
“What!” I literally yelled into his ear. “Do you want to fuck her?”
“No, and I never have. I want to fuck you, but your jealousy is really doing it for me. My cock is rock-hard.”
Anger bristled inside me and I hung up as a response. He didn’t get to abandon me and then force my insecurities out to get a rise out of me.
Fuck that.
When he called back, I didn’t answer. When he texted, I didn’t open them. When I couldn't breathe because my hatred for his manager rose, I went to his bag, stole his money, and left. Brash, maybe, but I couldn’t sit here any longer.
Fuck everything.
Chapter Forty-One
Welcome to Horrorwood – Ice Nine Kills
Andy
I’ll get my own place and then run to the bank tomorrow, I decided. He could deal with this tour by his goddamn self. Technically, the last time I’d been in England was when I was sixteen. It was one of the only times Madden stayed with his grandparents and right before they died, too.
Dox took me everywhere. Big Ben, Tower of London, and to many other attractions. He made sure I experienced what I could, even if I didn’t remember half of the trip.
Right now, I didn’t know what to do, but staying in this silent hotel while the guys—even Royce—were out didn’t sound fun. It reminded me of my childhood and not being allowed out because I pissed off my parents.
Checking my email as I took the elevator down to the lobby, I flinched. There were at least fifty unread ones and the very top one was from Brandon.
TO: ANDY BLACK
FROM: BRANDON FROST
I stood by myself at the altar, watching as our friends and my family looked at me with pity. They watched me wait for you, not knowing you never arrived in the first place.
I thought you missing the rehearsal was to tell me you were pregnant, too scared to mention it because of the last conversation we had about kids.
Yet, you never arrived.
What the fuck, Andy? We were supposed to get married. We were supposed to live our lives together. Where the fuck are you? Where did you go?
Your landlord said you changed your key, that you left the country. Are you in trouble? Did Toland do something? Talk to me. We can get through this together.
Call me.
I rushed out of the elevator and to the first bathroom I noticed, rushing to the toilet before the vomit came out. Luckily, I made it into the bowl and not everywhere. Brandon cared. He wanted to give me a chance. He didn’t accuse me of anything, just displayed the hurt and embarrassment of what I’d done.
I’d been here for five days and he didn’t tell me to fuck off or that he hated me. He simply asked if I was okay. How did I do this to him?
Other than my petty reasons and selfish ones, he wasn’t a bad man. He was a good boyfriend and fiancé. He made me laugh and he tried.
I just didn’t love him.
I never truly allowed myself to feel or experience life, I settled for the first man who wanted to be with me and it showed with how fucked up this entire ordeal turned out to be.
Brandon deserved better and I couldn’t be that person.
Even if Madden chose reality over this stupid fantasy between us, I couldn’t go back to Brandon and pretend there was passion between us.
Love was supposed to feel breathless, fleeting, like you had to capture it before it ran out. It wasn’t supposed to feel mundane as if life was a pendulum of ticks that constantly went the same way.
Passion wasn’t always what it was cracked up to be, either. It hurt, it made you soar, it stole, it gave, it had as many downs as ups, but chasing it felt like living for the first time, no matter how temporary the moments were.