Page 7 of Revel
Drawing in a slow, steady breath, I let it out slowly. “Who else is on the tour?” I ask my dad again, hoping the list of names wasn’t quite right. Maybe in the time since the tour was announced and every single show had sold out, maybe he backed out? One could totally hope for that, right?
He looks to me, then Breckin. “You, Breckin, Beau Ryland, The Ruins, Revved, Hensley….” And then I stop listening.
There’s onlyonethat matters.
Only one that threatens to destroy my resolve completely.
Only.
One.
And he’s the worst—the charm, the sideways smile he offers, the wink, the words; they always destroy. No doubt the hundreds of women who’ve been subjected to it agree with me. He’s… Lucifer.
I first met Revel Slade when I was fourteen and he was a dirty-mouthed eighteen-year-old world-famous rock star. His band, Revved, was at the top of every chart worldwide and his ego matched it. I met him backstage at a concert he was headlining, and he asked me, his eminent sideways smirk directed my way and tortured blue eyes twinkling with mischief, “Does the carpet match the drapes?” as he twirled a strand of my red curls around his finger.
I never did answer him because I thought he was talking about my tour bus or maybe my parents’ house. I had no idea it was a sexual reference about my red hair.
At sixteen, more accustomed to the ginger jokes, I met him again at the VMA’s after-party, and he got in a fight with my boyfriend at the time, Breckin Thomas, and told me, while spitting blood at my feet, “Come find me when you want me to make your cunt bleed, princess.”
Naïve as I was, okay, still am, it took me most of the night to understand what he meant by that. And then I was mortified that he talked to me that way. Assuming I was still a virgin, that is. He assumed correctly.
When I was nineteen and we presented at the MTV Music Awards together, he licked the side of my face on television in front of millions and said into the microphone, “Tastes like sweet cherry pie.” Everyone thought it was funny, but I didn’t get the reference until later…muchlater.
A month later, we were at the same restaurant in New York City. I was quietly having a meal with Breckin and our friends and he sent a cherry in a shot glass to me. I still don’t know for sure what that meant, but by the smirk across the bar, I’m guessing it was a sexual reference. That same night, he and Breckin got in a fight outside a nightclub. I wasn’t there, but I had a feeling it had to do with the cherry incident.
Then, about a year ago, we met at the Grammys where I had won four awards. He claimed he didn’t know who I was, let alone what I won, then said he’d fuck me and some other junk I didn’t care to hear.
From then on out, I steered clear of Revel and the members of Revved. We came from two entirely different worlds. I couldn’t believe how mean and cold he was. For someone of his popularity, I wondered what people saw in him. Probably his insanely hot body and ruggedly handsome good looks, but whatever. He’s an asshole.
Think I’m exaggerating? Let me give you a little background on the bad boy rock icon. DUIs, drug addictions, hookers, alcohol, assault… it’s all part of his rap sheet. I’m surprised the guy doesn’t need an organ transplant at this point, or at the very least, not be serving out some prison sentence. Which, don’t misunderstand, he’s done time here and there, but nothing substantial.
“Tay, you really should think about dropping from the tour,” Breckin whispers, sitting beside me, our knees bumping. “It’d be a nightmare with him on tour, not to mention, you’re not rock.”
Heat licks my face. “Seriously, Breckin? Neither are you! It’s not just rock on the tour. There’s pop, country, metal. It’s seven bands from different genres coming together. You should know, you’re on it too, and the last time I looked at the charts, you’re classified as pop so I could say the same about you.”
With her phone in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other, Bella kicks Breckin’s shin. “I can’t believe you’re trying to talk her out of it. This is a chance of a lifetime for her.”
“You’re only saying that because you want to go to Greece and drool over Revved.”
There’s no way she can deny it. Bella’s had eyes for their drummer for years, but she won’t say anything, just like I won’t admit I secretly think Revel is the hottest man on the face of the planet. I just can’t stand his arrogant ass.
Fighting the urge to strangle Breckin, I grab his face and look into his warm hazel eyes. Check out B’s face. Cute, huh? He’s available if you’re looking for someone. We met in the industry, both musicians, both signed with Ash Music Group, and while he’s a skilled tenor, his music is heavily edited relying on his breathy tone. It’s difficult to say what his unfiltered singing voice sounds like compared to his studio voice. He’s your typical early-twenties pop star with blond hair, pretty eyes, and flirty smile. He’s what I like to call a boy. He’s not a man as far as I’m concerned and to be completely honest, I knew when I was dating him that we weren’t destined for the altar. The public likes a cute pop love story, and for a while, we happily gave them what they wanted. Then reality kicked in and our happily ever after went poof.
I check the time on my cell and then glance over at Breckin. “We broke up, B. You no longer have a say in anything I do. I’m doing the tour. Tickets are already sold out. Again, you already know this.”
Breckin glances over his shoulder at Bella before returning his gaze to mine. Forcing a smile, he whispers, “You’ll always be my girl and I’ll always care about you.”
My throat bobs, my fake smile threatening to crumble. He should have thought about that before he cheated on me.
Straightening my posture, I clear my throat. “When do we leave?”
Breckin sighs in clear frustration and gets up to leave, Bella busies herself with her phone, and it’s just me and my dad in the den. He’s looking at me like he’s going to warn me. You know, the look parents get when they’re about to give you the “I told you so” talk or the “this is for your own good.”
It’s something similar to both those looks. “Your mom’s worried this will be too much for you with Revel on the tour.”
Yeah, well maybe you should pay more attention to Mom and stop cheating on her.Then again, what if Mom knows and she’s okay with it? It’s not like my mom and I have that kind of open relationship where I’d flat out ask her if she knows.
And then I focus on what Dad’s referring to. Revel. Sadly, because of our past interactions, his popularity over the last five years, and the Grammy incident, Revel has become a household name and one I can’t stand. Even the mere mention of him sends me into an anxiety attack, like it did earlier. His Grammy remarks still haunt me, and it’s been a year since that day.
