Page 47 of Revel
“Seriously? You guys go out one night and suddenly you’re collaborating together on a song?”
Ah, look at him trying to be the caring guy here.Not a chance, buddy.“Again, does it matter? I didn’t realize I had to run my plans by you.”
Breckin plops down, huffs out a sigh, folding his arms over his chest. “This isn’t you.”
I turn to face him. “Maybe that’s my problem,” I growl, my voice so harsh I can’t believe it comes from me. Revel’s wearing off on me. “I’ve never been me, until now.”
He leans into the edge of the vanity, glancing down at me with what I think is supposed to be his sympathetic side, but I don’t see it. All I see is him trying to control me just like my dad does. They all think they know what’s best for me. “He’s going to hurt you, T.”
Bitterly, I smile back at him. “Like you did?”
He rubs the back of his neck, sighing and looks up at the ceiling. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
“And it changedeverythingI felt about you,” I finish, my eyes hard on his face.
He shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “I was stupid back then. I didn’t see what was right in front of me.”
I fight the urge to stuff my palm in his face. “Are you trying to get me back or to stay away from Revel?”
“Both.” He moves toward me and I slap his hand away when he tries to touch me.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Leave.” I hadn’t realized I had a mean streak until now, but I desperately want to punch Breckin, more so than when I found out he’d slept with another woman.
I stare up at him. He doesn’t budge. Where I see warm hazel, I want cool blue and frowns. I have to remind myself that had Breckin not cheated on me, I wouldn’t have realized my life and career were heading in a direction I didn’t want. Should I thank him for cheating on me?
Nah.
When you’re little and you’re being told all those fairy tales, the ones that tell you there’s a Prince Charming out there for you, they leave out the villains. The monsters lurking. They don’t warn you about the ones hidden behind a disguise with pretty eyes and smoke in their lungs. One look at that villain and I know even bad boys have a story to tell. So forget Prince Charming. Give me the guy with tattoos and the bad attitude. I want that “fuck you” smirk and the roughness of his touch. This good girl is definitely looking for one of them.
That night in Anaheim, my performance goes without a hitch, and though I don’t get bottles thrown at me, I know who they’re anticipating. Revved. Everyone here came for one band, and it’s them. I have something in common with these fans, but my interest doesn’t lie with Deacon, or Hardin, or even Cruz. It’s the man in front, his energy on stage and his effect on the crowd that’s incredible. They worship him.
After they finish “Black Heart,” Revel’s eyes find mine side-stage and the look he gives me freezes me in place. He nods, a quick jerk of his head before he turns to the audience screaming for their hit song “Halo” to be played next. I know the song. Everyone in the world does. It’s played in commercials, movies, plastered all over the radio stations, but why is he nodding to me? What the heck is going on?
When I don’t come out on stage, he gives me the finger. Like Patrick Swayze did to Jennifer Grey inDirty Dancing. You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you?
But still, I don’t move. I’m not sure I can.
Panic rushes through me, anxiety tensing my neck and shoulders. We haven’t practiced any songs together, nor have we started writing the one together. Why would he call me out to the stage? I’m seriously hyperventilating. Not to mention, I’m wearing tights and an oversized T-shirt that says “I’d rather be eating tacos.” Not exactly spotlight material here.
With wide-eyes and quick breaths, I look to Bella standing next to me, drooling over Cruz and his sick beats on the riser floating about ten foot above the stage behind Revel. “Why is he nodding at me? Do you know anything about this? What’s he doing?”
Bella giggles. “No, silly. I’ve never even spoken to Revel. Like at all. Other than I think he stole my water bottle earlier and dumped it down that jock strap thingy he had on. I think I saw his penis in the process.”
I snap my eyes to her. “What?”
She waves me off. “Nothing.”
Thankfully, he’s no longer wearing that stupid coat. It got tossed aside after the third song of the night, and the jock strap was replaced with jeans, and I’m pretty sure he’s not wearing any underwear.
I’ve never been more nervous in my life. Other than my first appearance at the Grammys. I was sweating so bad that night my dress kept falling down and my wardrobe assistant had to tape it for me with clear tape.
Tonight is nothing compared to that night. Trying to gather up the courage to put one foot in front of the other, I draw in a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Me on stage in a taco shirt and tights.
“I can do this,” I tell myself. I’m not so sure. And I’m definitely not at all sure when I see his face behind me on the big screen, sweat trickling down his torso looking so yummy and incredibly hot. It’s like seeing a life-size version of Jason Momoa on the big screen and trying not to drool.
“Play ‘Halo’!” someone yells from the front row.
With a sarcastic laugh into the mic, Revels shoots them a glare. “Shut the fuck up. I ain’t playin’ that song right now.” He pauses and points at me. “Red, get over here!”
