Seven Years Earlier
SEVEN YEARS EARLIER
BONNIE
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I quickly grab it; however, the moment I see the name across the screen, my stomach drops, and all I want is to throw it down the sewer grate I’m walking by.
DAD
Bonnie, I know this is tough.
She needs you.
Come home soon. I don’t know how much longer she has.
My mother’s face flashes behind my eyes, and the wave of emotion catches me off guard.
Not now.
I can’t deal with this right now.
I can’t do anything about it. I can’t help her. I can’t go there and see her like that.
The noise of running footsteps coming up behind me catches my ears. I brace myself for the overly tall, lanky emo guy suddenly jumping on my back and practically swallowing my body with his.
Thank fuck for these idiots.
“Oh, shit!” I almost stumble trying to get my balance with him on my back.
“Baddie Betty Bedlam!” His laughter is hysterical, and I can smell the weed he’s likely just smoked with Mads.
“Whoa— Reed! This is not—” I scream and trip, sending us both crashing to the gritty ground. Reed rolls onto his back and cackles, his eyes closed and breath hardly catching for the fit he’s in. The thumping music inside the club does nothing to drown out our laughs, and the onlooking crowd standing in a line outside practically gawks at us.
“Sorry about the mess,” Mads says to the onlookers.
“You ass—” I shove Reed back down when he tries to sit up, and his head smacks against the light post.
Yet he’s too fucking high to do more than bring his hand to it and laugh out a “Oh shit, that was awesome.”
“You owe me shots,” I tell him.
Mads reaches down and offers me a hand. I wobble on the ascent, catching his forearm to keep from twisting my ankle in these damn platform boots.
“Easy, killer,” he says, chuckling at me. “You good?”
“Always,” I grin at him.
“Hey fuckers, what’s the hold-up?” Zeb asks, joining us from much further ahead. “I thought Avie said we didn’t have to wait in the line?”
“We don’t,” I say. “This asshat thought I’d piggyback him to the door,” I say with a nod at Reed
A slow grin rises on Zeb’s lips. “She’s like ninety pounds, man.”
“You won’t think I’m that small when one of these boots is shoved up your ass,” I joke.
“Ohhh!” Zeb cackles, clutching his stomach. “You know I like ass play, though. You can’t joke about that shit.”
I shove him, knowing he’s joking. “Dick,” I mutter.
Zeb wraps his arm over my shoulder and offers me the flask from his jacket just as Reed hops to his feet and punches the air.
“Race you to the door,” he says to Mads.
“No,” Mads says, even though I know he’s giving in at any moment.
“Chicken shit,” Reed calls him.
Mads smacks Reed’s ear, but Reed dodges it and bends, his arms wrapping around Mads’ waist to wrestle with him. As big of a guy as Reed is, he’s still no match for Mads’ stealth. Reed tries to pick him up, but he’s laughing so hard that he falls over on his knees. And this time, it’s Mads who does the challenging.
He taps Reed’s face, says a quick, “Eat my dick,” and then bolts down the sidewalk.
“You motherfuck—”
Zeb passes me the joint he’s just lit, and I take a long inhale as we head past the line toward the door. Avie is scolding Reed and Mads already, rushing them inside, and when he sees us, he does the same.
“Hey, you’re the fucking Guests of Honor,” Avie spits at us. “Let’s go.”
Zeb and I burst out laughing when we pass him.
Though the moment we step inside, I throw my hands into the air and shout.
Because it’s the release party for the band’s second album—for my first.
We’ve barely been at the bar for more than five minutes when a pretty brunette catches my eyes down a few people, and I shift on my feet at the sight of the slow smile growing on her lips.
I tip back two shots of vodka and ignore the fuzzy way my brain feels.
“Another round?” Reed asks.
“I can still feel my face, so yes,” I tell him. “Hey, I’m going down to chat with that beauty over there,” I say, nodding to the woman. “Bring my shot down there?”
Reed grins slyly. “Do you think she needs double the company?”
I chuckle and peer at her again. “She does look a little sad, doesn’t she?” I say. “I don’t know. I’m feeling kind of selfish.”
He laughs. “Yeah, okay. How about I bring you shots down there in five, and you can tell me to kick rocks if you’re still feeling selfish.”
“Deal.”
“And if not—” Reed clinks his shot against mine, and I smirk at his confidence.
“Okay, I’m running to the restroom first. Don’t go trying to take my things while I’m gone,” I tell him.
He holds his pinky up, and I link mine with his.
“Promise.”
I leave him with one more look at the brunette who appears confused at the fact that I’m heading across the dance floor and not toward her.
So, I blow her a kiss before disappearing into the crowd.
The ten-stall restroom is dimly lit with graffiti all over the walls. I smile at a few women when I pass them, though my focus is rattled by how much my bladder is suddenly aching.
Damn, that was fast.
I thought I might need to pee when we left the hotel, but I didn’t think it would hit this hard yet.
The moment I sit on the plastic seat, I sigh with relief. I feel like a new person as the piss leaves me. Closing my eyes, everything around me seems to spin. I can’t tell if I’m unsteady on the seat or if the ground is rocking.
I don’t know how much longer she has.
Ugh. I can’t think about my dad’s texts right now.
Why did my mom have to get sick now?
It isn’t fair.
She was supposed to be here to see all of this. She was supposed to see me onstage, see my dreams come true—
Laughter fills my ears. It’s loud enough that I open my eyes and practically gasp for air.
How long have I been sitting on the toilet?
My numb foot should give me some kind of hint; however, it’s hard to discern if that’s from sitting or the muscle relaxer I took a couple of hours ago.
I close my eyes again as I wipe, then pull my thong and tights back up, my dress down. I have to feel around myself to be sure it’s covering my bare ass because unless one of these ladies tells me I’m exposing myself, I won’t know.
Light smacks me in the face when I open the stall door. I wince at the glare and make my way to the sink, hoping a splash of water on my neck will help the daze. I need a punch of adrenaline, a hook to the face of—
Holy shit.
A drawing in the graffiti at the corner of the mirror nearly shocks me off of my feet. I jump back, almost running into another girl entering the stall nearby.
“Oh shit—Sorry—”
Though I can hardly drag my eyes away from the symbol.
The symbol.
It’s her fucking symbol—the woman who’s been watching me.
Always watching.
Not here.
Please don’t keep following me here.
I never thought I’d have a stalker, yet here we are.
I’m not scared of much, but her… She fucking scares me. Just because I don’t know what she wants. I don’t understand. Why me? Why pick me out of a crowd and follow me? I’ve never been special or someone people seek out. I’m just a troubled, fucked up girl from Southern California.
I just got in this band, and now this might be the thing that screws it all to hell.
I glance around the restroom again before exiting. A smile, as lopsided as it might be, slips onto my lips when I see a few people peering my way. The carefree mask is a shield I cling to on nights like tonight, and one that I’ll keep up until I’m passed out face-first on the bathroom floor later with Reed likely hugging the toilet at my side.
The brunette I’d begun eye-fucking earlier is perched on a stool by the end of the bar. I don’t see Reed nearby, nor the other guys, and I wonder if they’re on the dance floor somewhere. Zeb and Reed probably are. Mads… I almost laugh at the thought of him dancing—unless he and Reed were having a dance-off of some kind. Willingly out there on his own? An unlikely chance.
He’s probably lurking in some dark corner watching over everything.
And I’ve already forgotten about my stalker being here.
A man with dark hair stands near the brunette I’m walking toward. He’s leaned over the bar as if he’s trying to get the bartender’s attention, and just happens to also be chatting her up. I scoff. I know that move.
Amateur.
She peers toward me again, her eyes almost pleading when she looks at the guy, then back at me. I pause a few feet away to sign “Help,” also mouthing it in case she doesn’t know any of the language and draw a question mark in the air.
She picks up her drink, wraps her lips around the straw, then nods discreetly.
Hell yes.
I finish crossing the space between us, my smile broadening with every step. I’m planning my move, timing the slide of hand and interruption in conversation perfectly. She sets her drink down and watches me, drawing her bottom lip behind her teeth, and as I near, I see her breath catch.
That’s a beautiful little bonus.
And I don’t stop when I reach her.
“Hey, baby.” I slide my hand across her thigh and sink my fingers between them as I lean in. My lips land on hers, and she gives in perfectly as if we’ve done it time and time again. It’s a smooth, sweeping move, and I can’t help but smirk at the way she kisses me back.
Eat shit, loser.
Her eyes are wide and nearly black with dilation when we part. A gorgeous blush stains her cheeks, and I brush my knuckle beneath her chin, my other hand squeezing her inner thigh.
“You ready to get out of here soon?” I ask, my gaze dropping to her lips again.
Because this encounter is all I need.
“I… Yeah,” she finally manages.
I chuckle. “I forgot how flustered you get when I do that,” I say. Movement catches my attention from the corner of my eye, and I turn to find the guy who was just flirting with her glaring my way.
“Oh, hey, what’s up?” I say casually, reaching for the drink she just took a sip from. “Bonnie,” I introduce myself. “Thanks for keeping my girl company. You know how fucking long the lines are at women’s restrooms. Took forever.”
“That was for her,” he says about the drink I sip from.
“Oh, this?” I try the drink again. “Vodka with a splash of grenadine. Sweet, but not bad. Don’t worry. I’ll get her usual for her.” I hold up my hand to the bartender, who jerks his chin my way to let me know he saw me before heading this way.
“Two gin and tonics,” I tell him. “Thanks.”
“Thank you, baby,” she says, toying with the hem of my jacket.
I smile at her, and the bartender sets our drinks down in front of us. “Anything for you—Just put it on the band’s tab,” I tell the bartender.
The man loudly scoffs. “Fucking ridiculous,” he mutters.
I turn toward him. “Something wrong?” I ask.
However, he pushes off the bar without another word, and I grin as I watch him leave. “Have the night you deserve,” I call after him.
The brunette laughs a soft little giggle, and I take the seat next to her.
“So, now that that’s over… Bonnie,” I introduce myself.
She pushes one of the drinks toward me and lifts the other. “Abigail,” she says.
I take my drink, clink it against hers, and gulp a large swig.
“That’s a hell of a risky move. The kissing thing, I mean,” she says.
I huff amusedly and swallow the cold liquid. “It is… Sometimes creeps need a little extra incentive to move along. It works out one of two ways: he gets angry and storms off, or he becomes more of a creep by asking if he can join in.”
“How many times has the latter happened?” she asks.
“A few,” I answer. I lean over and reach for a thick piece of glitter in her hair. “I like this. It brings out the green in your eyes.”
“It’ll be a pain in the ass to get out,” she says. “But if it got your attention, maybe it’s worth it.”
I drag my gaze away from her hair to her face. “How else were you going to get my attention if the glitter didn’t work?”
“I’d have figured out something,” she says. “Improvised a fight. Cut off whomever you were dancing with.”
“A fight?” My brows lift. “For me? That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I—”
The noise of a breaking wooden stool sounds nearby.
It shatters my concentration, and I groan as I see Reed’s shaggy hair near the group suddenly arguing.
“Speaking of a fucking fight,” I grunt. I push off the stool and chug the rest of my drink. “Will you wait for me? I just need to take care of something,” I say to her.
“All night if you need me to,” she replies.
I lean over and kiss her jaw before heading into the crowd. I’ve already forgotten her name when I’m three steps away, my hazy gaze fixated on the commotion coming into view. I shove my way through a few bystanders toward where I can see Reed. Shit, I hope he’s just standing near it. I hope this isn’t about him—
Fuck.
Rad is standing in front of Reed, his finger in his face, and mouthing off to the point that I swear spit is flying into Reed’s space. I haven’t seen him since the night I took his job, and judging by the words he’s shouting at Reed, he still isn’t over it.
Dammit.
Who even let this guy in?
“—You’re nothing, hot shot. Fucking nothing. You’ve always been nothing more than a loser backwoods poser from some poor, bumfuck town in North Carolina,” Rad is spewing. “The only reason this little shit band of yours has any fans is because of me. I’m the one who made the deals to get us in those clubs. I’m the one who knew people. What is this little girl bringing to the table that I never did, huh? You sound like a bunch of pussies up there—”
“Whoa, hold the fuck up,” I say, shoving the rest of my way through and stepping between them. “If you have something to say about me, you can say it to my face.”
“It’s okay, Bon,” Reed says. “I can handle it.”
“It’s not o-fucking-kay,” I say, rage overpowering all clear thought. “He doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”
“No? Would you rather I talk to you like that?” Rad steps closer to me, head bent as he sizes me up. “You’re a fucking thief. You put something in my drink that night, didn’t you? I was fine until I chatted with you—”
“Excuse me?” I balk.
“You heard me.”
“No, don’t blame me for your mistakes,” I snap.
“You’ve ruined this band. The sound. The gigs. The whole vibe. I had shit lined up. I had us going places. And then you took everything. You took everything from me—”
“I didn’t take shit from you,” I argue. “You threw it away the moment you started talking crap about your bandmates to random fucking strangers. You never loved this band. You loved what the rest of the guys could bring you. You lost this band a long time before I ever came along.”
Reed grabs my arm like he’s catching me from stumbling.
“You drugged me,” Rad snarls, getting lower into my face. “I know what roofies look like. I know how people act on them—”
“Yeah, is that because of how many women you’ve used them on?” I interject. “Because that’s the only way you’re getting your free pussy , right?”
Rad launches spit at my face, and blackout rage sweeps over me.
“You MOTHERF—”
Reed grabs me around the waist as I swing like a feral cat. He hurdles me off the ground, but I’m kicking and scrambling, ready to peel this asshole’s face off if I can get to him.
And Rad laughs.
His laugh is like nails on a chalkboard. It’s a violent shriek bleeding my ears dry.
“ What’s the fucking problem? ”
Mads’ voice is lethal as he cuts through the crowd.
“Whoa—What the— What the hell are you doing here?
Reed manages to get my arms behind my back, and he pulls me into his chest as Mads comes into the circle with the anger of a bull ready to fight.
“Hey—” Mads snaps at the bartender. “No, this guy isn’t supposed to be in here. Can you call someone? Call Avie?”
“Did you know?” Rad asks him, pointing at me.
“Did I know what?” Mads asks.
“Dude, let it go,” Reed says. “No one put anything in your drink that night.”
“She did. I know she did,” Rad argues.
“You’re fucking delusional if you think I needed to drug you to have a chance in this band,” I say, blowing my hair out of my face.
“Everybody shut the fuck up ,” Mads yells.
I slacken a fraction in Reed’s grasp, Rad shifting on his feet as he peers Mads’ way, and finally, Mads looks at him.
“Rad, what are you talking about?” he asks.
Rad points at me again. “This little bitch roofied me the night she stole my job,” he says. “You think it was a coincidence that I happened to chat with her just before we went backstage? Before I passed out on the kit, and she was right there in the front row ready to take my place?”
Mads laughs.
It’s a noise I didn’t expect to hear from him in the midst of all this, yet it’s sardonic and vile enough that I’m waiting for the next move, because I know it isn’t going to be a pretty one.
“You’re accusing her of drugging you after the shit you pulled?” Mads says to him. “I should let her kick your fucking ass right now.”
“I can let her go,” Reed says.
I try to get out of his grasp, but Mads goes on.
“You were so fucking gone on pills the night you OD’d that you nearly fell asleep backstage. We thought that night was going to be the night this band was done. That all our fucking dreams were going to come shattering down with the sound of your cymbal falling over. We were already done with you, you just didn’t know it yet,” Mads says. “Thank fuck Bonnie was there not just to save our asses, but to make this band what it is.”
It’s Rad’s turn to scoff, his hands going to his hips. “Yeah, you know what? You’re right. Thank fuck, she was there. Thank fuck she was there to drug me and save me from having to endure another goddamn writing session with you. Thank fuck she was there so that I never had to play your shitty music again. And thank fuck that she was there to ruin everything we had built together.” His gaze moves from Mads to Reed again. “She’s holding you back, and you know it,” he says to Reed.
“God, not this shit again,” Mads mutters.
“You know I’m the only reason anyone ever heard your fucking voice, and it shows with this new album. You used to be power , Reed Matthews. What happened?” Rad goes on.
“Don’t fucking talk to him like that. He’s a hundred times the musician you are,” Mads says.
Still, Rad ignores him.
“Look at you, Matthews. Do you feel as strong as you did when you had me around? Are you really as loved as you think you are? Because my guess is, you aren’t. You were on the way to being something fucking special. And now… now you’re just another pretty boy faking it.”
“Shut up ,” I groan. “Jesus, could you be more of an insufferable prick?”
“You’re just fucking jealous of Reed,” Mads says to Rad. “You’ve always been jealous of him. He was everything you wanted to be. He was the reason all those people wanted us to play—”
“Yeah right,” Rad rolls his eyes.
“You were never the reason those people gave us a chance. If it was all you, you would’ve succeeded with your last band,” Mads goes on, stepping closer to Rad.
“If we were playing my music instead of your bullshit, we’d already be headlining festivals,” Rad snaps.
“There is no ‘we.’ And even if there was, if we were playing your music, this band would still be playing in a fucking basement and begging bar owners for gigs instead of on a national tour,” Mads says.
Rad is level with Mads, chests bumping. “You really want to go this route, Tourning?” he says, and there’s an edge to his tone that I don’t like. “You really want to piss me off?”
Mads’ chin rises. “Fucking try me. I dare you, Cutrelle. Please. Fucking. Try. Me. ”
Rad jerks like he’s going to head-butt Mads, but Mads is too quick. He dodges the incoming hit and throws a punch into Rad’s nose instead. I wince at the sound of the crack, at everyone around us gasping, yet Rad doesn’t stay down despite his stumble. He launches at Mads again, and I wonder why people even fucking bother.
Mads has been defending himself since he was a kid, and I’ve never seen him stand down from a punch.
His fist comes in contact with Rad’s stomach this time. Rad topples over, and Mads hits him one more time to get him laid out flat on the floor of the club. Security pushes through the crowd, and as Rad groans on the ground, Mads just holds his hands up.
“Dude,” Reed says tiredly.
“He doesn’t get to talk shit about either of you like that,” Mads says. “You’re better than him. Don’t let him in your fucking head. He deserves worse.”
Security pushes Mads’ hands behind his back, and I see one of them taking zip ties out to secure him.
“Wouldn’t be a Young Decay party without you getting arrested, would it?” I say jokingly to him.
I swear there’s a smile in his eyes, yet before he has a chance to reply, I hear Avie’s voice shouting over the crowd.
“—on, Tourning! Who did you—Oh, this guy.” Avie rolls his eyes as he sees Rad sprawled out on the ground. “Security, get this guy out of here, too. You think I pay you to let people like him in this party? Get him the fuck out of here. Wait, where are you taking my bassist?” he says to the bouncer who has Mads detained.
“Assault. Police are on their way,” the bouncer answers.
“Shit—Careful with his fucking hands! Jesus hell. He’s a musician. Stop breaking my guy—Hey, you and you—” Avie presses his phone to his ear and points at Reed and me. “Bus. Party’s over. Ten minutes—Hey, Lou,” he answers his phone. “No. Yeah. No, I need the fucking lawyer—” His fingers snap in Reed’s and I’s faces again, and I blink out of the daze I’ve suddenly slipped into at the sight of the blood on the ground.
“Ten minutes! Find Zeb,” Avie calls back.
I run my hand over my face. “Well, fuck.”
“I’ll find Zeb,” Reed says. “Tell your girl to come to the next city since it looks like we’re done for the night,” he says with a look down the bar.
Oh, shit.
I’d nearly forgotten about her.
With the fixation of the commotion and Reed’s hands on my arms, I realize how wobbly my legs are.
Why am I so fucking dizzy?
I blink as the music seems to grow louder, and people resume their chatting all around me. I throw my hand out to secure my bearings, catching her gaze when I look up, though everything around me seems to be blurring together.
Get it together.
Just go tell her to drive a few hours so you can see her tomorrow.
I don’t remember walking through the crowd or know how long it takes me. The next thing I realize is that I’m sitting on the stool in front of her again, and that damn piece of glitter in her hair catches my attention.
“That was entertaining,” she says, sliding a drink my way. “Even from over here.”
I gladly take the drink and remove the straw so I can gulp it back. My taste buds are so numb that I barely recognize the flavor more than vodka, but there’s a twinge of pain behind my eyes that I’d really like this alcohol to get rid of.
Her brows are lifted when I set the drink back down, and I notice there’s glitter on her eyes, too.
It’s so sparkly.
She’s saying something that sounds like mumbling. I don’t know why she’s mumbling unless it’s just the thud of the music around us that’s hindering my comprehension.
The glitter on her eyes is so pretty, though.
“You have really pretty eyes,” I say, cutting her off. “Like really pretty. And this glitter just makes them… Dammit, you’re really fucking pretty.”
She smiles softly, her cheeks reddening with that blush again.
“I have to leave,” I say, twirling her hair around my finger again.
It’s so soft.
“Are you coming to the next city?” I ask though I can’t feel my tongue. For all I know, my words could be a jumbled mess. At least she seems to understand me.
“I can,” she says. “Do you want me to?”
“I’d like that. I think you would like that, too.” I lean in, lips brushing hers.
My knees give slightly, and I brace myself against the stool.
Fuck, I went too far. One drink too far. I bypassed the sweet spot and went full blackout.
Dammit.
Annoyance and frustration thread through me.
Except something doesn’t feel right.
Shake it off.
I run a dull finger over her jaw and try to ignore the itching tension in my muscles.
Or… I think I do.
I think I speak.
But one look down, and I realize my arm hasn’t moved from the bar.
Fuck, where’s Reed? Zeb?
I blink and look around us, trying like hell to search for their faces in the blurry crowd. “Sorry, I don’t… I need to find my band. We’re leaving soon—”
“Let me take you back,” she says, and I feel her hand touch my waist.
Am I standing?
“I can take care of you,” she goes on.
“No, my band… We’re leaving,” I say. “I’m okay, pretty girl. You can take care of me at the next stop.”
Her chuckle is an echo. “Come with me now, Bonnie. Blow them off. We’ll catch up to them later. It’s okay. The next city is Nashville, right?”
Where is Reed…
Zeb…
I have to get it together. I wish I had water, a soda, something.
Play cool.
“Someone is eager,” I say, forcing myself to flirt. I reach over and push her hair behind her ear. “I can’t, though. I have to go.”
“Stay with me,” she begs. “I thought we were going to play. That kiss has me eager for tonight.”
“We will, pretty girl,” I say, and I wish my voice sounded more firm. “We will. Before the next show. I’ll meet you at the venue. I have to…”
“Come on, Bonnie,” she laughs. “I have you. Let’s go—Sorry, no, she’s okay,” she says to someone, her arm wrapping around my waist.
My feet are moving. Her grip is tight enough to keep me upright, and I keep my pace in sync with hers.
Hang on.
The guys.
I shouldn’t be leaving with her.
“Wait, my band.” I try to push out of her grasp, yet all I hear is her apologizing to another person. “Zeb. I need to find Zeb.”
“Shh… it’s okay,” I hear her say. “I have you.”
“No, wait—” I launch sideways, the move so abrupt that I crash into a body. My knees hit the floor, though if it wasn’t for the pressure, I don’t think I would have felt it. I’m entirely numb, entirely possessed.
Vomit lurches into my throat. I hear it splat onto the floor, feel a wetness hit my fingers.
Get up.
You have to find Zeb.
I try. God, I fucking try. Even as my palms seem to drag beneath me, I can’t latch onto anything. My muscles aren’t working. I’m nothing more than a rag doll at the feet of strangers who seem to be speaking loudly over me. I can’t distinguish one voice from the other, can hardly make out words as they muffle in my ears.
All except one.
“—back the fuck up, or they’ll be taking you out of here on a stretcher too,” I hear them say.
The tone is firm, entirely unwavering. However, I know it isn’t any of the guys. I know it isn’t someone from our tour team. I can’t entirely place it…
Body heat presses to my back. My torso is lifted off the ground, knees curling beneath me. I try to back out of their grasp; however, I can’t control any part of my body.
Panic grabs me.
Zeb.
Reed.
Help.
Help me.
I don’t know who this new person is, but I know the other girl was trying to take me out of here. I can’t go with her, and I can’t go with this person. I need to find the band. I need my guys.
I try to squirm out of their grasp as fear weaves through me. I think tears form in my eyes as I start to plead.
“My band… I need… I can’t—”
“ She’s with me— ”
“Not anymore,” the person says.
My feet leave the ground, and the person scoops me into their arms. Blue hair flashes in what’s left of my sight line. A black mask covers most of their face, ice blue contacts on their eyes.
Blue hair…
I can’t feel my legs, my face…
Vomit hiccups in my throat. I think I puke.
“It’s okay,” the person says. “ I have you, rockstar. ”
The world turns dark before I can take another breath.