21. Callie
21
CALLIE
“Is he at least taking care of you?”
Finally hearing my mom’s voice after two weeks of sporadic text messages is such a relief, even if disappointment and sadness are dripping from every word.
“Yeah, Mom. Torren is great. I promise. You’d like him.”
“You know I just want you to be happy. But I worry. I don’t want you to end up like me.”
“Torren isn’t like Dad, Mom. It’s not going to be like that.”
“I don’t like that he’s paying our bills.”
I told her it’s to make up for my being gone. A gift . She doesn’t like feeling like we’re indebted to him now. It’s killing me to lie to her, but I’m doing my best to sell it. It’s for her , I tell myself. It’s for the best.
“I know.”
My mom sighs, so I change the subject. “I had a lot of fun in Vegas. We stayed in this really fancy hotel on the top floor. Private balconies and a rooftop terrace and everything. You’d have loved it. And Torren says the hotel in Arlington has a private pool just for us.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun.”
“I am. And I’ll be back before you know it. How’s Glory’s dog? Has he eaten any more of my shoes?”
My mom takes the bait and moves on to a new topic, and luckily, she doesn’t bring up Torren or my skipping off to tour the country with a boy I’ve just met again. It’s a nice conversation, and by the time I hang up, I’m feeling slightly less slimy about being a big, fat, stinking liar.
According to the GPS on my phone, we’re almost to Arlington, and I cannot wait to be off this bus. This has been the longest stretch of time I’ve been on here and admittedly I’m going a little stir-crazy. Since we left Vegas yesterday, I’ve slept. I’ve read. I’ve eaten dinner and breakfast. I’ve read some more. I’ve played video games with Mabel. I’ve listened to Sav write a song, and then was sworn to secrecy about the song. (It’s good. Shocker.)
I don’t even remember how I handled being carted around by the guys in Pike’s beat-up old van. I even have my own room on this bus and I’m still ready to jump out of my skin. At least my shared bedroom in my tiny apartment doesn’t have wheels underneath it. By the time we’re pulling into the hotel parking lot, I’m ready to sprint down the stairs just to feel stable, unmoving ground under my feet.
My phone buzzes with a text before we’re in a parking spot, and I’m surprised to see it’s Jonah.
Jonah
Lunch?
I know a place.
My stomach grumbles. I’ve only had a breakfast sandwich since waking up this morning, and eating food on solid ground is definitely appealing. So appealing that the idea of lunch with Jonah and Torren makes me less nervous than it probably would if I weren’t approaching hangry territory.
According to the recent bout of articles, Operation Fake Dating seems to be working, and I haven’t heard anything more about Sav’s stalker. Being seen with the guys can only help the story along. I text him back just before following Sav and Mabel off the bus.
Me
Sounds good.
The moment my feet hit the ground, a tattooed arm is slung around my shoulder, and it’s no less surprising than it was the first time.
“Hey.” I shove my phone in my pocket. “What’s up? ”
“Lunch.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Jonah steers me out of the path toward the hotel doors as Sav and Mabel disappear through them.
“They’re not coming?”
“Nah. Savvy is going to use the high-speed WiFi to have video chat sex with her boyfriend, and Mabel is going to sleep.”
“Oh.” He opens the door to a black SUV, and I climb in. He climbs in after me. When his security starts to drive, I turn toward Jonah. “Isn’t Torren coming?”
Jonah shakes his head. “Invited him. He said no.”
Oh. Okay then. I try my best to ignore the way my excitement deflates. I guess he’s not up for pretending today.
Jonah doesn’t speak for the whole fifteen-minute drive, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s actually refreshing, despite the fact that I’m in another vehicle when I was looking forward to being stationary for a few hours. He doesn’t probe me with small talk, and his presence doesn’t make me nervous like Torren’s does. I’m almost grateful for my fake boyfriend’s absence.
The SUV pulls up to a small sushi restaurant in a busy strip mall. We get out on the sidewalk, and I notice a sign on the door that says Closed For Private Event.
“Um, I think we need to find somewhere else,” I say as Jonah opens the door and ushers me inside.
He laughs. “You’re cute.”
And then an older woman greets us and shows us to a table. I know immediately she’s the owner. I see no waitstaff in the whole restaurant.
“Welcome back, Mr. Hendrix. It’s good to see you again.”
“Thank you for doing this on such short notice.”
“Of course. Anything for you.” The woman waits while we sit, then she and Jonah exchange a few more pleasantries. Jonah introduces us, then asks for a single menu. Just for me.
“Take your time,” he tells me, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms.
“You don’t need to see it?” I ask, and Jonah shakes his head slowly.
“I know what I want. ”
The comment seems suggestive, summoning a chill across my skin, and Torren’s words from before flash in bright neon. He’s not nice. He just wants to fuck you.
And then I think of something else.
The sharing.
I blush crimson, my cheeks flaming with heat, and Jonah’s responding Cheshire grin makes me nervous in the most confusing way. So much so that I tear my eyes away from him and don’t look up from the menu again until we’ve ordered.
“So how are you liking being part of the band, Callie?”
I take a sip of my water before answering, flicking my eyes from his face, then to the paintings on the wall. “It’s been an adjustment.”
“It’s fucking chaos.”
I laugh. “Yes, it is.”
“Sorry if Torren’s been a dick.”
“He’s not been a dick,” I say, and Jonah smirks. “Okay, fine. He’s been a dick. But I don’t know, he’s coming around.”
It’s not a lie. Torren was a dick, but he’s been kinder. Softer. And unfortunately, it’s softening me, too.
“Sometimes he takes a bit of coaxing.”
I arch a brow at Jonah’s comment. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “To get out of his own head.”
“I still don’t understand,” I say slowly, frowning at his smirking face.
He doesn’t clarify. He checks his watch, then changes the subject, but it takes me a minute to catch up. I’m still puzzling out his meaning when the door to the restaurant opens and I glance up to see Torren heading in our direction.
And he is pissed.
He doesn’t even look at me when he makes it to our table. He just glares down at Jonah like he’s ready to bite his head off.
“The fuck is this, Jo?”
Jonah grins lazily up at him. “I invited you. You said no.”
Torren seethes. “You didn’t think it was important to tell me Callie was coming?”
“Slipped my mind.”
My eyebrows rise as I look between the guys, then Torren turns his attention to me .
“Get up. We’re going.”
The command in his voice, the utter entitlement, has my muscles going rigid.
“No,” I snap. “I’m having lunch.”
“Callie, get the fuck up and come with me.”
His nostrils flare as he stares me down, the words said slowly and tightly, like he’s trying his best not to raise his voice. Not to make a scene.
“I will not. I came here for lunch, and I’m going to eat lunch. You can sit down and join us, but I’m not leaving.”
Torren huffs out a humorless laugh, then glares back at Jonah. “I’d stay, but I’m allergic to shellfish.”
Jonah shrugs. “Slipped my mind.”
“Yeah, you’re real fucking forgetful today, aren’t you?”
“Drugs, man. Lasting damage.”
“You’re such a motherfucker, Hendrix.”
Jonah smirks. “If she’s willing.”
My jaw drops. Jonah did this on purpose—fucked with Torren intentionally—and I don’t know what to make of that. I do know that I don’t like feeling like a pawn or some toy they can fight over. I throw my napkin on the table and stand.
“I’m not hungry anymore.” I glance between them once more before settling my eyes back on Torren. “I’ll go back, but I’m not riding with you.”
His nostrils flare and his jaw ticks as he bounces his eyes between mine, and then finally, he gives me one nod. I brush past him and walk right out of the restaurant.
Damon has the back door of another SUV opened for me before I even set foot on the sidewalk, and I slide in without a word. After a few minutes, he pulls away without Torren.
Good. Let those idiots ride together.
I don’t want to deal with either of them.
It’s close to eleven when there’s a knock on my door.
I open it expecting Torren, but I find Jonah instead.
“What do you want?” I whisper the words angrily, looking past him into the main room of the suite to find it empty. “How did you get in here? Sav and Mabel are already in bed.”
He leans on the doorframe and stares down at me.
“I’m sorry for earlier.”
My eyes go wide with surprise before I narrow them at him. “Good. You’re not forgiven. Now go away.”
He doesn’t budge, and I clear my throat, gesturing to the door behind him.
“You can leave,” I say, but he still doesn’t move. His big blue eyes bore into mine in a way that has me pausing so I can stare back.
“You want to know why I did it?”
I start to say no but I stop myself. “Why did you do it?”
“Because I wanted to.”
I roll my eyes and start to shut my bedroom door on him, but he puts out his hand, stopping the door from closing. The move puts him farther into my space, and his scent overwhelms me. Something darker than Torren. More moody. Even in the moment, when my head is swimming, I can appreciate how fitting it is.
“I did it because you’re special, and he’s got his head too far up his ass to see it.”
I arch a brow. “What the hell does that mean?”
“If he’s not going to take you to lunch, why can’t I?”
“Maybe because you’re not my boyfriend?”
“ Fake boyfriend, and I don’t see him doing anything more than the bare minimum.”
I scoff. “Because, like you said, it’s fake . He’s not required to do more.”
“But he should.”
Jonah takes a step closer to me and leans in, his long blond hair creating what feels like a curtain around our faces. Something in my head shouts for me to step away, but I don’t.
“He hasn’t taken you out since Glendale. Didn’t show you any of Vegas. Two weeks and nothing but pap walks from the bus to the hotel, and from the hotel to the stadium.” His eyes drop to my lips, lingering there as he speaks. “Tell me you’re not bored.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head, but he smirks.
“Torren wants to keep you all to himself. Wants to keep you hidden.” He looks back into my eyes, then reaches up and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “But I think you should be seen.”
My brows furrow as he drops his hand and steps backward.
“It’s all up to you, Calla Lily.”
He doesn’t say another word. He just winks at me, then turns and walks out, leaving me staring a hole through the door.
Jesus, this just keeps getting weirder and weirder.
The crowd roars as The Hometown Heartless take the stage for their second encore, and there’s something even more magical about watching the show from backstage.
Getting to see the faces of the fans in the pit. The way they sing along with all their hearts. The way they cry and laugh. It makes me miss my band. Makes me miss being front and center on the stage. Our crowds were never even a fraction of this size, but the energy is still just as enthralling. And even now, years after I decided to hate The Hometown Heartless forever, I can’t help but want to sing along. I can’t help but want to dance and laugh and even cry with the crowd. They’re just...
Magic .
This band is magic. It makes me regret everything.
When the last song is over, I walk to the pre-determined spot for our photo op. I plaster on a happy smile, and in full view of the crowd, I wait. The only thing Torren and I have spoken about since the sushi restaurant yesterday afternoon was this little show Hammond had planned for the media. A quick photo op to keep the press happy. I keep thinking about what Jonah said yesterday.
Two weeks and nothing but pap walks.
This is certainly not a pap walk, but it’s just another version of the same old song and dance. I just want to get it over with, but I force a smile anyway.
Gotta sell it, after all.
The moment I see Torren, my heart picks up pace. He’s sweaty, his tattooed skin glistening and his curly hair falling in his eyes. He took off his vest halfway through the second set, so he’s gloriously shirtless, wearing just a low-slung pair of tight black jeans, and I have only thirty seconds to prepare myself. Thirty seconds where he’s strutting toward me with a sexy smirk on his full lips like some kind of famous rock star, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
When he’s within a few feet of me, I put my arms out like we discussed and let him swoop me up, spinning me in a circle before putting me back on my feet and smoothing my hair out of my face.
“Hi.” His voice is raspy from singing for two hours, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
“Hi.”
We hold the pose, gazing into each other’s eyes for long enough that spectators can get photographs, and I wait for him to take my hand and lead me back to the dressing rooms like we’d planned. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he lowers his face into the crook of my neck and kisses me there, once, twice, before biting me lightly.
My eyes fall shut, and I whimper, pressing my thighs together and tightening my arms around his neck. He chuckles, and the sound shoots right to my core.
“That’s right, baby.”
He slides his hands to my backside, squeezing my ass cheeks before lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct, then gasp when my body meets his hard dick.
He bites me again and my hips jolt into him.
“Fuck, you burn so hot, don’t you?”
The words float through the haze in my head, alarm bells ringing, but they’re drowned out by lust and need. I don’t notice he’s walking until my back is pressed against a cold cinderblock wall. He squeezes my ass again and then pats my thigh. I unwrap my legs, and he sets me down. For the first time since he scooped me up, I take a full breath and try to clear my head.
His pupils are dilated, and he’s fighting a smirk as his eyes sweep over me.
“Be ready at ten a.m. I’m taking you somewhere.” His gaze fixates on my neck, and his eyes flare with heat. “And wear your hair up.”
Then he turns and struts away. I close my eyes and rest my body against the wall, allowing the cold of the cinderblock to seep through my The Hometown Heartless tank top, willing it to cool me down. As my heartbeat returns to normal, my neck starts to throb. I press my fingers against the spot he assaulted and shiver. I don’t even have to look in the mirror. I know what he did.
Wear your hair up.
The bastard marked me— again —and he’s proud of it.
Then I remember something else.
You burn so hot, don’t you?
Shit .
First the comment about my hair, and then this.
You burn so hot.
Fear licks up my throat, my heart racing for a whole new reason.
Until now, I’ve been hiding in plain sight, but I think my time might be running out.