Page 34 of Revel
I search his face again, looking for something I don’t know or understand. People say my name, they tug on his arm, but neither of us responds. “Pull that song off like you’ve been singing it for years?”
He takes another pull from his flask, keeping it at bay once he’s done.
I don’t get my answer before his manager approaches, and mine. “That was amazing!” Liz gushes.
Revel rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, don’t go crazy. I went out there so they didn’t fuckin’ murder her.”
“You didn’t need to,” my dad points out, positioning himself between Revel and me, which is hard to do since we’re standing so close. The two of them exchange hushed words, ones I’m not privy to, but it’s Revel’s hand on mine and the nod away from the stage that makes me feel there’s nothing he’d rather be doing than coming to my rescue.
“You comin’, Red?” he whispers, looking my way and then tipping his head toward the exit.
“Where?” I dare to ask, Bella standing next to me now. I glance at my dad, then away just as quickly, waiting on Revel’s response.
He whispers, “Anywhere but here.”
My dad crosses his arms over his chest, huffing out a quick aggravated breath. “You’re not going anywhere with him. You should be getting on your bus and heading to Anaheim.”
“She doesn’t need your permission,” Revel points out, his words casual but their meaning is anything but that.
My breath catches, unable to speak the words, so I nod instead and take the rock star’s hand. A night out with Revel Slade?
I might regret saying this, but yes,please.
THE NIGHT I LOST MY MIND
REVEL
Told you I was in the business of jarring people. Do you believe me now? I can’t tell you why I did it either. Maybe to get a rise out of her, or maybe out of everyone else. Throwing bottles at her. That shit made me fucking crazy.
We’re outside the venue, misty rain falling on sleek blacked-out windows. There’s an umbrella being held over the members of Revved as we make our way to the row of cars alongside the tour buses. Once we’re in the public’s eye, Red let go of my hand. Can’t say I blame her.
Hardin approaches me first. “What was that about back there?” Hardin asks. “First a press conference, now you’re walking out on stage with her?” A provoking smirk appears. “What’s Hensley gonna think?”
I’m not sure if it matters, but it’s a topic of conversation for TMZ and every other media outlet trying to paint me in a bad light. Hardin and I don’t get along. We never have. The only reason I haven’t kicked him out of the band is his ability to play the guitar and do it well. I can’t think of anyone better. His personality is shit though, and he’s constantly trying to instigate shit with me just to piss me off.
Like now.
With unsteady hands, I push one through my hair knocking my hood off. “I don’t give a fuck what she thinks.”
“But still. . . .”
I stop walking, shaking my head in disbelief. Cruz and Deacon follow close behind us, and further back,her. “Would you rather I stand there while they hurl shit at her?”
“I’m just sayin’.” Hardin raises his hands, smirking, as though his implications should be obvious. Oh, they are. I just don’t appreciate them enough to care. “I’m just sayin’,” he repeats again, chuckling this time.
With a hard knock of my fist, I shove him away from me. He bumps into our bodyguards. “You’re just sayin’ what? Why does it fucking matter what I did?”
Like I know him to be, persistently annoying, Hardin smiles, righting his position and his jacket. “I don’t understand why you’d defend her.”
I don’t like the way he saysher. Like she’s not good enough to be here. It’s what everyone thinks, and up until her performance in Portland, I was one of them. She is good enough. I can’t tell you what changed any more than I can tell you why I walked on that stage tonight.
I’ll be honest. When I first met her, I thought she was another product of bought talent. After Hensley, I saw Red and smelled revenge. I see now it’s not revenge. It can’t be with her. She’s surprisingly modest, innocent, beautiful and in ways you wouldn’t exactly expect, humble about her immense talent. Behind her back, I ridiculed her for lack of identity, thinking she’s the typical manufactured bullshit every record company produces to sell an image. What I hadn’t been expecting was her to have the talent to back it. Not many people would have remained standing on that stage tonight. And though she looked to me, she didn’t ask me to come on stage.
Hardin follows me to the line of cars, my attention elsewhere, uninterested in his reply. It’s when his gaze falters to Red who steps toward us with her assistant and bodyguards, that I have a problem with him. It’s Hardin’s interest in her, the way his eyes wander that sets me off. He sweeps his black hair from his face. “Sharing?”
Rage boils in my veins. Believe it or not, when I first started with Hensley, I didn’t give a fuck who dipped in. It was later we became exclusive, after everyone had their turn. But this girl, not a goddamn chance of that happening. I pity anyone who takes a shot at her tonight, or any other night while we’re on this tour. Or for the rest of my life for that matter. Again, I don’t know where it’s coming from, but I can’t stop it. Licking my lips, I catch Hardin’s eyes and make it known with my words, hands off. “Unless you want me to slam your face through the windshield, I’d say no.”
He lets out a low whistle, wrapping his arm around a blonde who made her way to him. “Daddy’s record label, Daddy’s manager. . . she’s dangerous.”
