Page 22 of Revel
“Not a damn thing.” I do the second line on the table. Cruz does the third. Hardin doesn’t touch the shit. Sniffing, I lean back against the couch, downing another drink from the bottle. “Mind your own fucking business.”
“She’s Jory’s daughter, man, and off-limits,” Cruz adds, lifting a brow. He laughs and reaches for his drink. “Your rule, asshole.”
I know she’s off-limits, especially to me, but that part of my brain that doesn’t handle rules… it takes it as a challenge. I know how fucked up that is, believe me, I do. Countless beatings from Oma did nothing to quash the impulse to do the exact opposite of what most people would agree is the smart thing to do. Clearly, I was high when I set rules for myself, knowing that I’d be forced to break them.
The apple might be lethal, but I’m tempted to bite the forbidden.
DON’T BITE THE APPLE
TAYLAN
“Don’t bite the apple, Red.”
I think about the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching. The way his arms tightened with every movement I made, and the way his hand shook when he lifted it to run it through his hair.
Trying to appear unfazed, I slowly exhale and try to rid my body of my nerves. It doesn’t work. My head is reeling from his words. Some women might cry from his cruelty.
I’m not crying over him.
Am I feeling a little defeated? Did my stomach jump at what he said and high-five my heart? Did that dry, scared feeling tickling my throat take my words with it?
Yeah, all the above, because anytime I’m inhispresence, my body reacts. But I can tell you one thing: after the high of my performance, it’s going to take a lot more than an emotionally disconnected rock star to make me cry. I rocked tonight. No one is taking that from me.
Here are some things you need to know about me. I’m a feisty redhead. I don’t like to be told what to do and if I want to prove myself, I will. Mark my words, I will prove myself to Revel and the entire rock and roll genre that I’m more than a pop star. When you’re a performer, the realest you’ll ever be is when you’re on stage letting thousands of people see inside your soul, and in turn, you’re waiting on their reaction. You’re waiting to see if you’ve evoked something inside them through your songs to move them either visually, electrically. You have to give them something to relate to. And tonight, I did that.
Bella snakes her hand in my arm, leading me from the stage back to my dressing room while telling me, “Revel Slade just watched your entire performance!”
My breath catches, my heartbeat skipping. And just like that, there’s a familiar tightness in my throat like I’ve eaten something I’m allergic to. Believe me, I knowhedid. Hell, I know anytime he’s near me because my body reacts. My heels click against the concrete like snapping turtles. “And managed to insult me for what, the third time today?”
Laughing, Bella keeps pace with me and the two security guards next to me. A knot of annoyance forms in the pit of my stomach. Why am I letting him get to me?
My security guard pushes the dressing room door open. Bella and I both follow, along with wardrobe assistants and a handful of others. “Why would he watch me?” I ask Bella, downing my second bottle of water.
She hands me my cell phone and a banana. “Because he’s Revel Slade.” I reach for the banana, and she strokes it, smiling.
I rip it from her hand and peel it back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Shrugging, she sits beside me. “I don’t know. I just like saying his name. Bus is ready for us.”
“Thank God. I’m not riding with them again.” And then I think about everything that happened on the bus, nothing in particular, and more about our interaction backstage. “I don’t get it.”
“Me either.”
“This is a nightmare.”
“Tay, I hate to point this out—” She stops, mid-sentence. “Actually, I want to point this out. You rocked tonight. After Revved. You did that, girl. You. Taylan Ash. That’s why he watched. And you performed ‘Nasty Girl’perfectly. Revel couldn’t tear his eyes away from you for one second. I bet he was totally turned on.”
I ignore the part about Revel being turned on because right now, I don’t want to think about that. He’s so mean. I want to forget him. But Bella is right about one thing. I did amazing. They didn’t boo me off stage, like I’m sure Revel expected. There were no awkward silences from the crowd or a mass exit when I took the stage. Maybe a little curiosity, but once I did “Nasty Girl,” I bet every single person in attendance will remember it. I mean, Revved and Taylan Ash performances back-to-back, no-one would have expected that. Could have been worse, huh?
I’m in the dressing room long enough to change out of my dress and into an oversized hoodie and those amazing Lululemon leggings I die for. With Bella at my side, we’re ushered through throngs of people with VIP lanyards hanging from their necks and out to where the tour buses are lined up.
I don’t have a lot of time to think or relax before Leddy comes on the bus. She’s my tour manager and holding a clipboard in hand which means I’m about to be told where I’m going and what’s next. By the way, I love L’s hair. Don’t you? It’s amazing. I have curly hair, and it drives me up the damn wall with its inability to just lie straight. But Leddy, she has jet-black sleek straight hair. I love to touch it because it’s what I imagine a black panther to feel like. I digress though, she’s here for business.
“Great show, T. Scratch that, it was an excellent show.” She always starts with that. All business, no play for her. “We leave tonight, and the second night of the tour is in Sacramento.”
“Why not tomorrow night?”
“Revved requested a night off in between each show. Revel’s request.”
