I went into the ladies and reapplied some lip gloss, knowing it wouldn’t last long before Tris kissed it all from my lips. My insides contracted as I anticipated what was to come. Hopefully me, several times.
My phone vibrated with a message. I assumed it was from Tris, asking me how much longer I was going to be. So needy, that boy. The corner of my mouth quirked up as I swiped the screen.
Instantly, all the good feelings evaporated as I was confronted with a picture.
The picture.
The one of me smoking heroin.
Carl.
It was followed by a message:Guess you’ve made a lot of money off this tour. Should probably push some in my direction unless you want more people to see this.
The phone pinged again with a picture of The Matchbox’s sign with TheSB and Trash Gun’s names on it, along with today’s date.
Shit, shit, shit.
Was he here?
I swung my head from side to side, checking to see if there was someone in the room with me. The doors to the cubicles were all open and there was no sign of anyone else.
The door creaked open and I froze, holding my breath.
Two women, laughing, entered.
“Scott Lincoln is so drunk, I wouldn’t go anywhere near him!” One of them was saying.
The other clocked me. “Don’t know why you would, either. Bet he can’t even get it up.”
They dissolved into giggles at her comment and I gave them a small smile of agreement. Both of them went into separate cubicles and continued their conversation. I wanted to stay in there until they were ready to leave and then go with them, use them as a shield. I couldn’t be sure if Carl was there, it would be easy enough to get a picture of the band sign from the Internet. He was probably doing it to get a reaction from me.
There was another message and this time it was from Tris asking where I’d got to. Gathering my stuff together, I told myself I was being silly. Carl couldn’t possibly be here. I was worrying over nothing. It would be fine.
As I pushed the door open, I’d almost convinced myself.
The corridor was silent. I could barely hear the low drone coming from the main bar area, the only sound coming from my heels as I tapped along the passageway.
“Did you get my message?”
Standing in an alcove, cigarette smoke pluming around him, was Carl.
My feet were glued to the spot and I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
All I could feel was my world crashing in around me.
He stepped into my path, effectively blocking my route back to the safety of the main bar.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I clutched my bag to my chest, ice shooting through my veins.
“I thought that was pretty obvious, sweetheart.” His crooked grin made my skin crawl. “I’ve got a few friends in the area who suggested I come up and visit. And look who happened to be here at the same time. I’m thinking karma, are you?”
“I think you’re a fucking leech,” I hissed, trying to sound braver than I felt. “You plied me with drugs and left me. If it hadn’t been for Tris and Darren…” My voice trailed off as I contemplated the consequences of what could have happened if Carl hadn’t done a runner from the room at that party when he did.
Carl’s hand went to his nose. “Think your boyfriend did some serious damage to me. I doubt he’d want the same thing to happen to you, would he?” He took a step towards me and I moved backwards at the same time.
Silently, I willed the two women who had come into the bathroom to leave and find me, to scare Carl off. But no matter how much I wished for it to happen, it didn’t. I wondered if there had been another exit, meaning they didn’t come back into this part of the club. Shit, I should have checked.
Carl came closer, his breath reaching my face. “So, what are we going to do? It’s easy enough for you to make this all go away. Twenty grand should do it.”
