Chapter Two
Ryker, one of my best friends and bandmates, is pacing back and forth in front of me while running a hand through his thick blonde hair, and I sigh heavily while leaning back onto the couch. He’s always been the most dramatic in our band, Raising Havoc, and it’s really showing tonight.
He snaps his attention over to me and glares. “Could you be a little more serious?”
I roll my eyes and lean forward, already hating the conversation that has barely started. “About?”
“You’re all over the media, Brent!” Ryker says, his face turning red from the frustration coursing through him.
“And?”
“And? And? We have someone trying to claim you slept with their wife. Do you have any idea the hell we’re going to be in?” Just as he asks the question, our manager, Mack, pushes through our front door and comes barreling over to me. Ryker throws his hands in the air and sighs in relief. “Finally, maybe someone else can try talking sense into him.”
I scoff, then open my mouth to say something back, but the narrowed gaze Mack points in my direction has me clamping my lips shut. I’ve learned throughout the years that if Mack has a bone to pick with you, it’s not something you want to try fighting. He can get his feelings out into the open, and then I’ll silently decide if I’m going to listen to them or not.
Truth is, most of the bullshit the media posts about me is just that – bullshit – and that’s why I take it with a grain of salt. I’ve had my fair share of hook-ups while on the road. I’m not going to deny that, but I would never get into bed with someone who’s married. The only reason I’m not angry at Ryker’s exaggeration over the situation is that he’s not so much worried about what they are saying but more so about how it’s going to reflect on the rest of the band.
“Brent,” Mack snaps and takes long strides over to me with a frown. “What the hell?”
“Don’t give me that look,” I mutter, then look between him and Ryker with my jaw clenched. “You both know I’d never do something like this.” Does Mack think that poorly of me? That I’d be involved in a scandal of this magnitude and put the band’s reputation in jeopardy?
Mack sinks his ass right onto the edge of our coffee table and I eye the space, then look up at Ryker who’s fidgeting in front of our manager with a finger shoved between his teeth nervously. Ryker isn’t only dramatic, he’s also a clean freak and needs everything to be spotless, which is how I know the OCD in him is desperate to come out, but no one would dare tell Mack what to do when he’s got his game face on.
Mack’s gaze softens only slightly, and he rests his elbows on his legs while leaning forward. “How do you plan on handling this, Brent?”
I roll my eyes, then arch a brow at him. “Isn’t that what we hired PR for?”
Mack sighs and scrubs a hand down his overgrown facial hair. “Brent, this is worse than usual for you right now. Maybe let’s skip the attitude and figure out a way to put this situation to bed?” He leans forward. “There’s a million cameras waiting outside the gates for you, just waiting to get an inside scoop on the latest scandal.”
“There’s always cameras waiting for us,” I mutter.
Ryker groans. “Can you just listen to him, man? We’ve got to get this thing under control.”
“I can go to my vacation home in San Diego,” I suggest.
Mack shakes his head. “You need to get further away than that if you want to lay low.”
The conversation I had with my sister the other day comes to mind and an idea pops into my head. I look over at Ryker, one of the only people in my life whose opinion matters, and ask, “Is that what you think I should do, too? What about the rest of the guys?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, man. Donny’s holin’ up with his new girlfriend and can’t be bothered with shit right now, and Evan mentioned something about his mom.” Ryker shakes his head and frowns. “What do they have to do with anything?”
I sigh and lift from the couch. “My sister and her friend are going on a trip to the Virgin Islands, and I’m thinking about tagging along with them. Debunking it won’t do anything, not when it’s already been spread everywhere, so this is the next best thing.”
Ryker walks over to us, finally finding the nerve to calm down, and sits on the arm of our leather couch. “I think it would be a good idea.”
Our manager looks between the two of us, then rolls his eyes and stands up from the coffee table with a frown. He points a finger at the two of us and says, “You better talk it over with the rest of the guys. Your world tour is coming up, so make sure you’re all in agreement.” His gaze comes to me, and he places a hand on my shoulder. “And, if you go, for the love of God, stay out of trouble. Think you can manage that?”
“Have I ever been able to before, Mack?” He growls at the smirk I send his way, then shakes his head and storms toward the front door. “Love you too, man!”
“Could you take this more seriously?” Ryker hisses. “This doesn’t only affect you, Brent. It falls on each and every one of us. Your shit is becoming a burden, and I’m afraid of what’s going to happen if it continues.” I know what he’s getting at. Although I’m the lead singer of Raising Havoc, each of them could very well vote to have me kicked out of the band.
Could I blame them?
The smirk I’m sporting falls, and silence fills the space surrounding Ryker and me. He’s not wrong; I should be more worried about the situation than I am. “I didn’t mean for all this to happen, man. I didn’t want you stressing over something like this.”
“Just get your shit figured out, Brent,” Ryker mumbles before heading toward the spiral staircase that leads to his floor of the house.
We’ve got four floors here, which is crazy, and luckily, I’m the one who resides on the first one. Each of our styles is showcased throughout the place – mine is full of black and white, Ryker’s got famous paintings hanging on the walls of the second floor, while Donny sports a more vibrant color scheme that matches his clothing choices. Evan is a little different. He’s the more practical of the four of us, always desperate to do whatever he feels will save us the most money, so that means he’s got a floor full of thrift items that are always piling up.
I head down the long hallway that leads to my room and push the door open, my eyes immediately moving toward the balcony that overlooks the vibrant city life below. All the lights shine beautifully, reminding me why I love it here, but it only ends up being overshadowed by the rumors everyone has to spill about me.
Getting in bed with a married woman.
I’ve always been careful when taking women onto our tour bus and having my way with them – none have ever had a ring on their finger to indicate their current marriage. It could’ve easily been a fluke, though. Maybe one of the women decided to forgo her wedding ring and act as though she didn’t have an obligation to another man at home. I shake my head and frown.
There’s no way I did what they’re saying.
It’s not the first time their information would be incorrect. A lot of my career has been spent with Mack handling my image, and the majority of those times were false – a way to hinder my reputation. There’s this odd stereotype when it comes to rock stars that we like nothing more than to get in bed with any woman who notices us, and I’m only assuming that’s why the media feels the need to shine a light on that with me.
I don’t know what Mack has planned for damage control, but hopefully, he will figure it out quickly before things escalate even further.
Which reminds me.
It would probably be best if I hurry up and get tickets on the same flight as Mallory and her little friend, Julia. They’ve got no clue I’m going to be there as well, but it’s better than being stuck in this place with cameras following my every move. The last time something close to this happened, I couldn’t even relax in our backyard without cameras shuttering every five seconds.
A break might be good for me anyway, especially before we start off our world tour.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Evan says over the phone.
“Noted.”
“I’m sure all this could’ve been fixed with a simple post that stated her husband’s allegations are wrong.”
I roll my eyes and huff as I lift my luggage from the back of the swanky SUV that picked me up from the airport. “Sure, then prepare for the next scandal to arise.” He knows as much as everyone else that this wasn’t the first, and it sure wouldn’t end up being the last. “My sister’s here, and I have to go.” Before he can respond, I quickly end the call and shove my phone back into the pocket of my jeans.
I lied. Mallory still hasn’t made it here or knows that I’m interrupting their girl”s trip, but I’m hoping the upgraded seats to first class and the limo driver waiting for them at baggage claim will help ease her anger at seeing me here today. I knew she would immediately deny me tagging along, which is why I thought the best course of action was a surprise approach.
What can she do, kick me out if she doesn’t want me to be here?
I’ve got a pair of sunglasses perched at the top of my head that I pull over my eyes, blocking the blaring morning sun from stinging them, and squeeze through the plethora of guests heading toward the front entrance. The resort looks like most, with a couple men standing outside the doors with a blank expression on their face other than to see where someone’s vehicle needs to go, and the inside looks like a greenhouse with how many plants are scattered around.
There’s a long line leading to the reception desk, so I place my bags on the floor next to me and lean against one of the long pillars that hold the ceiling above our heads. A group of girls ahead look at me over their shoulder before giggling and whispering to the others standing in front of them. I can’t exactly blame them, I didn’t do much in terms of hiding my appearance because the effort seemed like too much.
Maybe I should’ve thought better of that.
Another worker walks behind the counter and starts another line, one that I get into. Then everything starts going faster. Within minutes, there’s only one person in front of me to check in, and I’m grateful for the quick help provided by the employee.
The woman behind the counter flashes me a welcome smile, brightening her features, and it slips for a split second before her cheeks flare up. She rubs her eyes, blinks a few times, then shakes her head at me. “Are… Are you Brent from Raising Havoc?”
I smile at her politely and place the luggage at my side, tapping my fingers along the handle in tune with the music echoing through the speakers above us. “I am.”
There’s a good reason I chose this resort to stay on, other than the fact that Mallory and Julia are going to be here, and that’s the simple fact of them having a policy that restricts their guests from invading celebrities that stay on their resort. If any of the guests blab about my whereabouts, causing paparazzi to show up, it will hinder their chances of ever being able to come back to the resort in the future.
Essentially, my being here and at the resort is good because I can still lie low even if some people recognize me.
She beams at my answer, then leans forward so I can get a good look at what she’s hiding underneath her shirt. If it weren’t for the throat clearing behind my back, I would’ve rejected her advances, but I don’t have the time.
“Brent,” a squeaky voice says behind me, my lips tipping at one corner as I listen to my little sister mumble curses under her breath. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Awe, sis,” I say before spinning around to face her and Julia, who’s standing off to the side with her eyes cast onto the ground. “I don’t get a hug?”
Mallory scoffs. “A hug? You knew this was a girl’s trip, so what are you doing here?” She arches her brow and smirks. “Don’t act as though you’re trying to spend time with me. You know that never happens unless shit’s going wrong for you. What is it this time?”
“What, you didn’t see anything?”
She waves a hand at my chest, forcing me to stumble. “Please,” she mumbles. “I don’t spend all my time waiting for something about Brent Dominic to pop up on my social media.”
“Unfortunate, really, because you’re missing one hell of a story.” I look over at Julia and give her a curt nod. “Julia, always good to see you.” Her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink, and she looks back down at the ground. Despite having met her several times, her shyness always manages to surprise me.
“If you tell me you’re staying on the same floor as us or even in the same room, I’m going to leave without looking back.” “Don’t worry, I highly doubt you’re on the same floor as me,” I say, even though she wasn’t looking for an answer. “A little dramatic though, don’t ya think?”
Mallory rolls her eyes at me and flashes a megawatt smile at the receptionist, who’s looking between the three of us like we’re a reality show for her entertainment, and asks, “Could I please check in?”
The receptionist nods frantically, then fumbles with papers sitting on her desk.
Meanwhile, I’ve somehow managed to step closer to Julia. She shifts uncomfortably along the marble flooring, her eyes running over each swirl as if counting them, and I nudge her shoulder playfully. “What’s up, Buttercup?”
She looks up, and I watch in fascination as a deep shade of red creeps across her face. She’s as timid as a mouse but also unbelievably adorable. Teasing her over the next two weeks will be all the entertainment I need.
“Can you at least make yourself as scarce as possible?” Mallory asks loudly, gaining my attention. She shifts her eyes to Julia, who hasn’t said a single word since seeing me here and brings them back onto me. “We don’t need you bringing us into whatever’s going on.”
I smirk at my sister and shrug my shoulders. “Sure thing, sis.”