34. Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
Mac
“Mr. Thompson, thank you for joining us on Tonight Live !”
The half-smile I give the host of this show Leo put me on is not a genuine one, but neither is the sickly-sweet flash of pearly whites on her face.
It’s showbiz.
“Thanks for having me.” My knee bounces in my dark slacks that match the black button-down Leo put me in before I got up here. The top few buttons are undone, giving me room to breathe, but the material is itchy against my blisteringly hot skin. My black bandana is stiff against my forehead, which feels unbearably wrong considering how often I wear the things, and makes my brain hurt in ways I don’t understand.
The crowd applauds our exchange with no clue how uncomfortable this shit really is, they’re just happy to be here near someone from a band, someone famous with the possibility of getting two seconds on TV. Just like the fans that pay the extra money to get backstage only to find that we’re normal fucking people who just happen to be good at playing an instrument.
They don’t see the long hours on tour, sleeping in a tiny bunk or shitty hotel bed, being in strange places for months or even years. Unable to live an actual life without being plastered all over the fucking media for having a best friend that’s not even the person I want it to be.
They don’t see the way my heart’s racing. Or how bad my chest hurts. The sacrifices I’ve made to do what we do. Who we had to leave behind just to be here.
What they really see is my back relaxed into the chair, my legs spread wide, one ankle propped up on the opposite knee and a fake grin for our host that I know doesn’t reach my bagged eyes.
She sits across from me, her pencil skirt tight enough to keep her torso stick-straight in her seat, her blouse way too loud for the personality I’ve yet to find, with her eyes stuck on me. She’s too bubbly for this hour of the night. Too needy. Too demandingly rude to the staff off set the second the cameras were off.
Shit, I don’t even remember her name.
“You’ve come straight from a show, right? The Resurrection tour?” I nod, watching as she taps her cue cards on her crossed thigh and smiles for the camera.
“Yeah, it’s been great being back on the road.” I lie, my thumb finding a rhythm against my thigh.
Not anymore.
Not without Jordan.
Fuck, I miss him so much.
My breath catches on that last thought, sending me into a blinking fit to bring the hostess back in focus.
“Tell me about the rumor. You’re going to be working with Banger on their new album? Alongside Dare?”
Clearing my throat, I fiddle with my pant leg. “There’s something in the works for sure. Not much I can say about that until the ink dries.”
Fake, fake, fake a smile.
“I see that you’ve got a new security detail.”
Jesus, she’s giving whiplash.
She flips her hair over her shoulder, looking over mine to where I know I left Paul, my greener than green temp bodyguard, standing before I stepped foot on the stage.
I didn’t ask for him. I was plenty accepting of the idea that I had to share Peach with Fin.
But then Fin found himself in a jam with no security around, and I was assigned a brand-new asshole without my consent.
Here we go.
“Yeah. Paul,” I say, glancing back to see him standing proud just off the stage, but a few feet from where I left him, and I internally roll my eyes. He’s right in her line of sight. “He’s green, but so far so good.”
That was petty. Oops.
“Interesting that you ended up with someone new after all this time. Any comments on that, Mr. Thompson?”
I shake my head, keeping a slight smile plastered to my lips even though my eyes are tired, my arms ache from the show, my feet beyond done with the dress shoes I was politely told I must wear.
They’re constricting and I just want to go.
Be anywhere but here.
I haven’t had to talk about Jordan since we left, except with Dr. Surah. But it’s been so long that fans are losing their minds about Dare being so close to me, and now Paul following behind like the lost puppy he is.
“We’ve had to make a few personnel changes to cover some gaps.” I pick at my nail when her smile falters and Leo’s advice rolls around in my brain. Don’t walk into saying something you’re not prepared to say . “That happens sometimes.”
“But your former bodyguard will be back, right? You guys have been everywhere together. Like best friends.”
Former?
The thought shoots straight through my chest and makes my jaw clench.
With aching fingers, I bring my hands up to steeple the tips against my chin. There’s an ache in my chest and a forced lift to my lips behind the spasming digits as I speak the words I was told to come here and say.
“Jordan is still with the security team, and still very much a part of this family. He always will be.” I adjust forward in my seat with a clearing of my throat, leaning into my elbows on my knees, and tug at the shirt to get it to sit right again against my torso. “But, now, so is Dare.”
There. PR stunt completed.
My stomach rolls.
Oxygen leaves the studio, suffocation settling in when I feel the attention of the entire room focused on me. Even the host lady leans closer to me, her eyes unmoving from my profile as I swing my hardened gaze directly into the camera.
“And I can’t wait to get back on the same side of the planet as him.”
Him, who? They’ll speculate.
I clear my throat, feeling my Adam’s apple bobbing against the lump that builds.
I want my bodyguard back.
I want my best friend back.
I want my freedom back.
Fuck, I miss him even though this is all his damn fault.
Severing the contact with the lens when the room breaks out in gasps and applause, I glance over to our host and cover the mic pinned to my collar. “You good?”
She’s flustered, her words refusing to come, her cheeks flushed beneath the layers of makeup as she fans herself with the cue cards she’s yet to look at. As if gaining her composure and remembering the lines preset for her, she checks the words written, her brown eyes shooting between them and me.
She clears her throat, but still does not speak any words.
Her subtle nod is all I catch. It’s all I need to stand and rip the cords from my neck. I leave the shit laying on the table set between the chairs and stomp off the stage without another glance at the host, the crowd, or the camera.
Eyes follow me as I leave the entire live shoot behind, my abandonment of the interview on every television set, the shock and awe of the staff burning at my back almost as much as the heat from the body that sticks too fucking close to my ass.
I bob and I weave around people that begin begging for my attention once the shock wears off, demanding my exclusive interview after a show such as that— walking off stage, how dare I?— in hopes that I don’t get too far and leave the scene.
“You think I’m green?” Paul’s words break my concentration, and I glance over my shoulder at the man I would have thought was cute in another life.
He’s not Jordan.
“Yeah,” I mutter, my attention going back out in front of me when I nearly run over an assistant carrying a stack of files and books. “The fact that you have to ask that ...” I trail off as I maneuver around the girl and reach for the exit, only to have Paul brush around me and snag the handle from my grip.
Mother fucker.
I growl when he clips my shoulder and wait for him to push the metal wide enough for me to clear while he checks the alleyway that I step into anyway.
“ Don’t grab the door from me like that,” I snarl when he steps back up to me with the intent to walk in front. I whip my arm out and stop him with a blockade across his chest. “And do not lead me.”
“Oh.” He pauses at my side, his step faltering. “That’s the rules, though, Mac.”
“No.” My headshake is stiff, my tone gruff as my hand falls away from him. “It’s my fucking life.”
I knew it’d be a difficult transition.
Because there’s not supposed to be one.
“But Mac,” Paul tries, his steps spinning him until he’s walking backwards so that he can face me—just the same way that Jordan used to—and I have to swallow back the bile that threatens to rise. “It’s my ass if something happens.”
“Goddammit.” I freeze on the spot. “I’m still a fucking person .” I growl the words out, my fists clenching at my sides, desperate to make contact with his nose.
“And I have a job to do.” Paul’s resolve is palpable, almost choking, as the collar plants its place right back around my neck for him to tug the leash on.
Fuck him for ruining this for me.
I growl at my security, tear my gaze away from him, and move forward without another word.
“I could back off, if you’d like,” he offers, his gait catching back up to me easily. “I just thought we’d get along.”
I spin on him, his chest slamming into mine and stealing his breath with the gravel skidding beneath our shoes.
“Why’s that?” I sneer, my nose only an inch from his face, a pointer finger poking into his thick chest. “Because I’m the cool one?” I snap, my venom flying all over his face, but I don’t care. “Or because I like anything with a dick? Looking to just replace my last one?”
That rumor hurt a little.
I’m tired of the labels people put on me.
The hate they spew at me when they don’t know the truth.
“No, I just …” Paul takes a timid step back but meets my flaming gaze. “I idolized you, man.” He swipes the back of his hand over his jaw. “It’s not often people are open in the media like you are.”
I smirk, one that has absolutely no humor, and turn on my heel to walk away from him.
“I’m sure you’ve heard all about idols.” I toss over my shoulder like a royal asshole and stalk my miserable ass down the alleyway.
It’s not my fault you’re not supposed to meet them.
I shake the thought as I reach the blacked-out SUV and nearly yank the handle off to open it.
Climbing up into the vehicle, I slam the door behind me with a loud thud that shakes the car.
I just wanna be left alone.
But I know that’s not going to happen anytime soon, thanks to the driver’s side door opening and Paul climbing in to move us to the next location.
The cityscape passes quickly, the streetlamps passing us at a whirl. The roads become highways and I can’t help the mashing of my teeth when Paul’s silence ends up pissing me off even more.
Jordan knew I hated the quiet.
My knee bounces out of control in the passenger seat of the SUV as we pass yet another convenience shop that reminds me of him.
My chest aches enough that I pull my legs up to circle my arms around them in hopes to ease the pressure, or at least hold back the memories that flood me.
But I wouldn’t be so damn lucky.