Page 85 of Revel
And I walk out of the room, ignoring the looks I get from his bandmates. Bella’s outside the door, wide-eyed and following closely as I storm back to my dressing room. “How much has he had to drink today?”
“Apparently too much,” I bite back, stomping down the hall, my heels angrily clicking against concrete. I should have known he wouldn’t change, for anyone. I didn’t go into this thinking I could change him either, but I’m beginning to think I might have underestimated his addiction.
“He destroys. He doesn’t know any different.”
Hensley’s words scream inside my mind. That’s what she said to me the other day, and at the moment, my heart wants to scream back at her, “You don’t even know him.”
The reality is, she does know him. She spent five years with him. She knows him and what he’s capable of. I’m only just beginning to see it.
The deafening vibration of thousands of fans screaming at the Pepsi Center in Denver Colorado creates a huge adrenaline rush for both the band and everyone teeming the very edges of the stadium. For Revel beside me, he’s unfazed, and still drinking. It’s been three hours since the meet and greet and none of us have been able to control him. In those three hours, he broke down the door to my dressing room, apologized for being a dick, and then proceeded to throw up for an hour. Then went back to drinking.
I go on stage first where I perform “Black Velvet” that leaves everyone screaming my name as Revved is set to come on. My performance, it’s flawless and erotic. I know how to rock a black dress and seduction when I need to. Why did I choose that song? Because I love it, and if you listen to the lyrics, the original song writer might have been talking about Elvis when he wrote it, but to me, it’s all Revel.
My eyes catchhis, heavy on mine when the song just about ends and I strut toward him on the stage, male fans screaming for me to come closer to them in the front row. Nervousness wretches through me when I notice the look in Revel’s eyes. His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing in on the catwalk of the stage where I was just standing. Without warning, he comes on stage and the initial roar of the crowd intensifies as he causally walks toward me, center stage, and yanks me into him. I stare at him, waiting for the reaction I know is coming. And then he lays probably the most erotic kiss he’s ever given me, let alone in front of thousands of people.
“What are you doing?” I ask, breathing heavy when he pulls back.
Cold dark eyes never reach mine as he whispers, “I should fuck you on that stage so every motherfucker out there knows your mine.” And then he takes the microphone from me and yells, “Keep dreaming fuckers.”
Staring at the crowd, I’m speechless, waiting on their reaction. With a yeah-I-just-did-that smirk, Revel hands me back the mic, flipping the crowd off as he exits the stage.
I smile, finish with my hit song “Love Rewind” and then I too, leave the stage.
Backstage, I find him standing in the shadows, smoking. Cruz looks at me and shrugs, as if to say he doesn’t know what to say.
Part of me wants to slap my hand upside Revel’s head and tell him to knock it off. The other wants another kiss like the one he just gave me. I don’t do either and instead, I stare at Revel once I see him and the rest of the members of Revved getting ready to come on stage. My face heats, my heart doing flip flops with my stomach as I look to Bella, then Revel. There’s a stabbing sensation in my chest as I stand there, waiting, hoping he would apologize or give me an excuse as to why he’s acting like this. He won’t look at me. I want to ask him what that was, why he’s acting like this. What changed? Did I do something? No. . . it doesn’t feel like it’s me. This is him and the alcohol, and drugs, swimming in his veins.
“Revel,” I begin, reaching for his arm when he passes by me.
“Don’t,” he mumbles, his voice an angry warning.
“What are you doing? You’re acting crazy.”
His restless eyes sweep to mine, narrowing in the darkness. “It’s precious.”
“What?”
Smoke billows and eddies around him, twisting in almost an artistic way. He blinks, slowly, his cheeks red, eyes glossy. Never have I seen him look this way before. He can barely stand up, watching me with dark eyes, his breathing heavy, his anger slow, silent, and strong. “The way you think I give a goddamn.”
Did he really just say that to me? His words are a slap to my face. I bite my lip, holding my breath and fighting back the tears I don’t want falling. I won’t let them. Not over this. Not over him being drunk and cruel. “You’re such a dick sometimes.”
He snorts and lifts the strap of his guitar over his shoulders but says nothing in response.
“I think we need to call someone,” Liz tells Patrick, watching Revel reach for his guitar, swaying in the process. “This isn’t going to end well.”
Liz looks about as nervous as I feel, but still, Revel hears none of it and brushes off their attempts to have Cruz take lead vocals tonight.
Smoke machines hiss out a mood for the lights to cut through as they pulse to life. Anticipating the disaster upon us, my heart hurts, each beat harsher than the next. “The fuck he will,” Revel snaps, his eyes livid. “Go fuck yourself,” he mutters in passing, to no one in particular, but it’s next to Breckin who’s standing backstage too, so I don’t know, it could have been directed at him.
Breckin shakes his head, looking over at me. I don’t like the look he gives me. It’s somewhere between vindictive and curious, like he’s planning something. I’ve known him for a long time and I’ve never seen this look.
After the opening riff, Revel glides effortlessly on stage, the initial roar for the band already on stage reaches an entirely different level when Revel staggers into their view holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a mic in the other. The overhead rigs shift into position, blazing with purple light as the pyrotechnics explode.
Just like every other time they perform together, the air in the venue is electric, ripe with sexual tension as Revel entices the audience—teasing, cajoling like only he can. Spellbound, the audience gravitates toward the sheer power and strength of his performance as he changes the tempo and seduces them with his vulnerability, his raw sensuality. As women swoon, delirious with need, he unleashes, driving them to the heady heights of uncontrolled passion, shattering their minds with the final crescendo, then limp with sated desire as only an experienced lover can do. I feel their agony, their craving for more, their devastation as he leaves the stage without a backward glance. Just like he did to me.
Not many artists can successfully pull off “Purple Rain.” It’s not an easy song, but Revel, he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever seen. The emotion he pours into the lyrics, the way his eyes never leave mine, the way his chest heaves through the chorus, it’s more than I can take. What’s changing between us? I feel it, I know it. I love him, that’s obvious, but as much as I don’t want to see the truth, will Revel Slade ever really let anyone love him?
Part of me thinks I know why he chose that song, but then again, do I?
