She nods. “I know. I read it in an interview you did.”
Shit, that must’ve been a while ago.
Brenda takes her friend’s hand and squeezes. A dozen unspoken words seem to pass between the girls.
“I listen to it a lot,” Melissa says softly.
The undercurrent of what Melissa’s saying hits me in the gut, and I reach out to awkwardly pat her on the back.
“I’m really glad you’re here. Talking to you has been the best part of my day so far.” I’m not lying either. Everything about today sucked. Saying goodbye to Mallory. Listening to Jacob’s bullshit. Behaving myself when I want to punch Davey in the face a couple dozen more times. The craptacular show.
This moment puts it all in perspective.
The girls beam mega-watt smiles at me.
Maybe letting the suits exploit that very personal song isn’t so bad if it means it reaches more people. If it can make more girls like Melissa feel less alone.
“So, do you want to meet the rest of the guys?” I ask.
Brenda bounces on her toes and clasps her hands in front of her face in a worshipful pose. “Yes, please. Thank you so much. That would be so totally awesome.”
Hearing totally awesome in her crisp British accent makes me chuckle. I wrap an arm over each of their shoulders and walk them to our meet-and-greet room. It’s about the size of a closet. I’m pretty sure it was a toilet at some point. Sure smells like shit. But it’s what we have to work with tonight, and the girls don’t seem to care.
Flashes go off, and my head snaps up, seeking the source. One of Revolver’s roadies. I barely resist the urge to flip him off.
I did, after all, promise Val I’d behave tonight.
“Yo, Jacob, Alvin!” I shout to get their attention. Garrett’s family was supposed to come to this show, so I assume he’s off with them.
Alvin’s his usual goofy self. The girls chatter a mile a minute with him. Jacob engages in some harmless flirting that makes the girls blush and stammer.
After a couple minutes, I pull Alvin aside. “Make sure they get out of here safe.”
“They jailbait?”
“Probably. But be nice, please.”
“You leaving?”
“Yeah, I’m done.”
Satisfied Alvin will take good care of the girls, I back out a few minutes later.
A song I recognize from my own teenage years reverberates through the building. Bloody Revolver must have taken the stage. Their sound seems to be working fine.
Christ, if I’d known back then Davey was such a lowlife, I would’ve tossed his band’s tape in the trash. Thank fuck, I never hung any Bloody Revolver posters up in my room.
At the front desk of the hotel, the clerk waves me over. “You have a message, sir.”
I grab the paper. “Thanks.”
At Audrey’s for the night. Mallory.
When I spoke to Audrey earlier, she mentioned that she was living somewhere new, so I’m not worried. “Do you know when she called?”
“I don’t, sir. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right. Thank you.”
Val’s gonna kill me when we check out, and she’s handed the whopping international phone bill I’ve racked up, but too fucking bad.
Guess she should’ve thought of that before she tried to sell my girlfriend to Davey Revolver.
Chapter Six
Mallory
The week home without Chaser seems to drag, giving me a glimpse of what being in a relationship with a musician will mean long-term.
I try not to dwell on it too much.
The time difference and the expense of long-distance calls has kept our communication to a minimum.
I couldn’t stay at Audrey’s for too long. Eventually, I return to the apartment. Tiptoeing upstairs past the guys’ place only worked for a few hours. The second I started moving around, the girls were knocking on my door.
Explaining why I was home so early was an uncomfortable conversation.
A few nights later, Holly and Vickie stop by to cheer me up. Well, that’s what they say.
“Um, you should probably see this,” Vickie says, handing over a popular tabloid. “Turn to page six.”
Chaser Adams Bounces Back After Big Break-Up!
After Chaser’s relationship with model Mallory Dove blew up, the guitarist for heavy metal band Kickstart finds comfort in the arms of two young groupies.
My hands shake as I scan the photos. The pictures are innocent enough. He’s signing something for a girl—I assume a fan. Then there’s another photo of him with his arms around two girls with worshipful expressions on their faces.
Chaser, on the other hand, looks tired. He’s wearing the polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
A source close to the band says Adams rocked the young ladies all night long to get over the heartbreak of Dove storming out in the middle of their U.K. tour.
“Bullshit,” I say, thrusting the magazine back at Vickie. “The ‘source close to the band’ is probably Davey Revolver trying to start more trouble because he didn’t get his way.”
“Keep reading,” Vickie says, handing the magazine back to me. The twitch at the corner of her mouth suggests she’s enjoying this a little too much.
Maybe pouring my heart out to them when I came home was a bad idea. But how else was I supposed to explain why I was home so early?
Sources say Adams caught Dove in a compromising position with Davey Revolver, lead singer of Bloody Revolver, who is headlining the tour. Revolver had no comment.
There’s a picture underneath that paragraph of me sitting next to Davey. Chaser’s been cut out of the photo, but his disembodied hand still rests on my shoulder.
The rest of the article goes on to talk about Revolver’s long career, the current tour, and the band’s new album.
“That asshole!”
“We tried to warn you,” Vickie says. “Rockers always cheat on the road.”
“Not Chaser. Davey. He couldn’t get what he wanted, so he used me anyway. Look at the rest of the ‘article’—it’s all about him and his band.” I’m fuming but don’t know who to be more angry with—the tabloid, Davey Revolver, or myself.
“Maybe he’s still into you, Mallory. And this is his way of reaching out,” Holly says.
“Huh? Who?”
She rolls her eyes. “Davey. Honey, I can’t believe you turned him down. Like, I totally get it, Chaser’s way hotter, but Davey is loaded. This whole apartment building could fit inside one wing of his mansion.”
“So what?” I grew up surrounded by wealth. No matter what items my father gave me, it never made up for the loss of my mother or the lack of his affection and attention. A man like Davey would be no different. When I outlived my usefulness, he’d replace me with a younger model.
No amount of money or “stuff” would ever fill the empty, aching little girl in me who has always longed to love and be loved.
I finally have that with Chaser. I love him whether or not he ever makes it ‘big.’
“Holly’s right,” Vickie says. “Davey is a fantastic catch. It wouldn’t hurt to see what he has to say if he reaches out to you again.”