Page 21 of Revel
I tilt my head and meet her gaze head-on, taking a drag from my cigarette, gauging her reaction. “No, I know you’re honest.” Smoke cascades from my nose like ribbons in the shadows on the stage. “You’re too fucking naïve not to be. In this industry, you adapt to darkness. You pretend it’s not there at all. The darkness is who I am. I was born into it.” Leaning in, I whisper, “Don’t bite the apple, Red.”
The meaning behind my words sinks in. She doesn’t say another word to me. Instead, she grabs the girl next to her and walks away, a dusting of glitter from her dress sparkling in the wake of her retreat. I want to laugh, but my eyes cling to her ass. I’d love to say I’m just messing around with her, trying to get a rise out of the innocently sheltered, but I’d be lying.
As I’m walking away, I hear her assistant whisper, “Revel Slade just watched your entire performance!”
With Cliff and two security guards on either side of me, I find my way back to the bus. I make my way to the back hoping there’s something there to ease the frustration inside me. Anything you can imagine is at your fingertips when you’re a rock star. Drugs, pussy, alcohol, all at the end of a simple nod.
What I’m not expecting is Breckin Thomas to be on my bus.
Cliff hands me a bottle and joint, then moves toward the front of the bus. Tucking the joint I was about to smoke between my lips, I stare down at Breckin, who’s sitting on the edge of the L-shaped couch, his feet on the table, making himself at home with his phone in hand. “Are you lost?”
“You’re playin’ with fire,” he warns with a knowing smile, looking up at me from his phone.
“Is this the part where I pretend to give a shit what you’re referring to?” I drop down onto the couch, unscrewing the cap from the bottle of vodka I plan on finishing tonight. Taking a long pull from it, I set it between my legs and light the blunt.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Sweeping his shaggy skater-boy blond hair from his eyes, he takes a sip from the bottle in his own hand and leans his head back against the couch like he’s fucking comfortable. “I’m talking about Taylan.”
The fact that he’s even mentionedhermakes me want to smash his head through the wall. Believe it or not, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that on this bus either. I raise an eyebrow and give nothing away to this teenage motherfucker invading my space.
“Is she your weapon to get back at her daddy for stealing your piece of ass?” Breckin tilts his head sideways.
“No,” I grit out, inhaling a hit. I want to strangle the words from his throat, but I want him off this bus more.
“She’s not exactly your type, so what gives?”
“That’s none of your business, kid.” The word slides between my teeth angrily. It’s not the entire truth, but I don’t need to explain myself.
His jaw clenches at the word, kid. I’m only a few years older than him, but still, I’ll use any advantage I can over this tool. “Couldn’t you find someone better to mess around with?”
I set the bottle down on the table and walk over to him. “Get the fuck off my bus.”
Breckin stands, smirking, his hands raised in defeat. “Easy there, Rev. I’m just looking out for my girl. You’re messing with her head, and while you think it’s fun to fuck with her, we both know she’s way out of your league.”
“Jesus.” I laugh sarcastically. “Why do you give a fuck? Word on the street is you fucked her over. I’m really fucking curious though.” I pause for a dramatic effect. His jaw clenches. “Did she let you stick it in her ass?”
That gets him. His posture turns rigid. “Leave her alone,” he growls, as if I should listen to him.
“I don’t think so.” I erase the space between us, standing toe to toe with him. My breath mingles with his, our noses nearly brushing, but the fire in my eyes is unmistakable. “Get off my fucking bus before I slit your throat with this bottle, kid.”
We hold each other’s gaze for a long beat before Breckin’s jaw ticks. “Maybe I’ll go see what Hensley’s up to.”
My stomach knots with anger, but not for the reasons you’d think. I couldn’t care less who fucks that bitch. “Go for it. She’s hogged out now. Can’t touch the sides or the bottom.”
Look at his face. Studying me with intensity, he has no idea what I’m referring to.
Commotion on the bus draws his attention, his stare flicking to the front as Cruz and Deacon pass Cliff, grabbing drinks from the bar. Laughter and teasing follow as they make their way to the back.
Breckin parts his lips to speak, but then shuts them for a moment longer. He shakes his head and gives me a hard look and whispers, “Just stay away from Taylan.” He shuffles toward the front. “You’re the last person she needs to be involved with.”
Cruz and Deacon stare him down. “You lost, Bieber? Does your mom know you’re out after curfew?”
Breckin smirks, shouldering his way between them. “Just being friendly. You know, spreading those good vibes.” He continues toward the front of the bus with three heated stares burning holes in the back of his shirt. He’s so fucking out of place on this bus it’s ridiculous.
Making their way to the back, Cruz takes a seat beside me, shaking his head, as Deacon and Hardin follow. “Motherfucker.” Cruz takes out a dime bag from his pocket and spreads it on the table in front of us. Taking his credit card from his wallet, he cuts out three lines. “The only thing that asshole is spreading is gonorrhea. What the hell was he doing here and who the fuck let him on our bus?”
Deacon smirks, leaning in to do a line. When he’s finished, he smiles at me like I should understand. “Who do you think? Jory fucking Ash.”
Cruz leans forward, eyeing me suspiciously. “What’s with you and Princess Bubblegum? You never watch performances when we’re on tour.”
