13. Kelsey
Kelsey
L.A. Riot sounds as good as ever.
Even if their songs do leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I stick to the shadows in my hiding spot off stage. On the other side is where all the professionals and label execs are. Carmine will be somewhere nearby.
He’s the last person I want to run into here. Second to last person if I count Marco. Third to last really, because I’m still pissed at Riot for pouring beer all over me last night. And threatening me.
But the boys were adamant that I couldn’t stay alone in the suite.
Especially since we’re leaving from the venue.
They had their road crew manager, Coffey, find me a low traffic spot to watch from.
Where he could keep an eye on me. And I would be unlikely to run into anyone outside those who know I’m here.
Definitely no one who would go running to the head of the label.
All our things have been packed onto the bus. They’d gone to my apartment and picked up my things. But I haven’t had a chance to go through them and make sure everything is there.
Whatever isn’t there is gone forever I suppose.
I can’t get caught up in my losses right now. I have to choose to live for the future. One where hopefully I don’t have to worry about Marco finding me.
Or deal with Riot ever again. Which means my only concern is surviving the tour. The forced proximity of being stuck on tour buses or hotel suites with him. His cruelty toward me.
From my vantage point, I can see both the band and the crowd.
The venue is at capacity and absolutely crowded.
The people in front of the stage dance and wave signs in the air, their voices joining Riot’s when he encourages everyone to sing along.
The volume increases as more and more people join in.
On the stage, Bronx is a sexy, shirtless beast on the drums. His hair drips with sweat and he has this boyish grin of absolute joy on his face.
Kodiak concentrates on his playing. His bass looks small in his huge hands.
Golden nods to the beat as his fingers work the fretboard of his rhythm guitar.
Riot, the jackass, looks like a god on that stage. He acts like one too. Dark hair, smoldering eyes, and his lucky leather jacket. It’s a powerful concoction but throw in his cocky Maddox charm and people lose their minds over him.
Like I did once.
Girls scream for him. He locks eyes with some girl in the crowd and she swoons.
She literally collapses for the pretentious douchebag and has to be collected by the first aid crew. Another throws her bra on the stage. Another lifts her top up to reveal her boobs.
If only they knew what he was like in private. If only they had a clue how malicious and vindictive he can be. How easily he could break a heart. Discard a friend. The lengths he could go to in order to ruin a life. My life.
And everything we could have been.
Fucking around with Kodiak this morning didn’t scratch the itch of how badly I want to show him I’m better than fine without him. Especially since Bronx took him to my place, so he now has a good idea what my life has been like since I walked away.
Or how much I want to make him pay for what I lost. As if anything I could do to him could ever cause him that much pain.
“We’re going to sing ‘Chokehold,’ right now.” Riot announces. “Are you ready?”
The crowd goes absolutely wild.
He launches into the version he wrote for the woman who he cheated on me with. “You’ve got me in your chokehold, baby.”
An ache washes through me, stealing my breath. I shut my eyes and try to shove the hurt down. This song used to mean something. He ruined that. He ruined us. I don’t know how to recover.
Faking it on the other hand... I can hold my head up high. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing he can hurt me.
The song finishes and he locks his gaze on me. It’s chillingly hostile as he speaks into the microphone. “Tonight, we’re going to play you something new. It’s called... ‘Break You.’”
Golden and Kodiak share confused glances.
Bronx gives me a sympathetic glance before he sets the pace on his drum kit. Riot starts to croon into the microphone, laying down lines about how much he hates me.
I might have been falsely confident.
By the time he launches into the chorus I’m shaking.
His gaze stays on mine, the entire time he’s singing. His voice is raw and gravelly. “You left me broken. Left me bleeding. And I still want you... to make you pay. God, I hate you! I want to break you, I’m gonna break you.”
His smile is venomous.
My stomach is in my throat. My feet are rooted to the floor while the rest of me wants to either run away or punch him in his smug face.
“Watch out, baby, I’m coming for you.” He finishes the song and silence falls long enough I can hear my heartbeat in my ears before the crowd rumbles their approval of L.A. Riot’s newest song.
He turns his attention to them. “Well, we’re still working on it. But it sounds like you guys like it.”
I need to get out of here. I leave the side of the stage. Jasper, the bodyguard the guys ordered to keep an eye on me escorts me.
The crowd roars back their love for the new song.
I expected hearing lyrics about how much he hates me would be difficult. I assumed they would make me reconsider sticking around so he could brutalize me. But they were even harder to listen to than I expected.
Was there ever a time where we were really friends? Because there’s no way I would be friends with the man on stage right now. Let alone lovers. I can’t believe I used to want a future and a family with him.
Jasper escorts me to the private area set up for the band. We’re about to enter when Carmine’s unmistakable voice makes his presence inside known.
The fine hairs on the back of my neck spring to life.
He paces the space like a jovial rooster, his chest puffed up, while he crows on about how fabulous the show has been to someone on the phone.
I duck out of sight when he faces in our direction, my heart racing.
Flattening my back to the wall, I clasp my throat because my pulse is pounding there.
It’s like I have PTSD from the last time I faced him.
The day he told me I would never work in the music industry again, and that I would never again be welcome anywhere near L.A. Riot.
Riot had stood there as Carmine sentenced me to a world of pain, stone-faced through it all. He’d chosen her and Carmine. He’d chosen to cast me away. I’d never even had a chance to tell him that I was pregnant. Not that I regret it currently.
“I can’t be here,” I tell Jasper in a mere whisper.
He nods, grasps my elbow and ushers me into another room stacked with supplies. Then he makes a call. “Rook, I’m going to take Kelsey to the bus.”
“Copy,” the head of security’s voice comes through loud and clear.
“Okay, let’s go.” Jasper takes me another way so that we don’t have to cross paths with Carmine or anyone else from Savant Records. A ride in an elevator ends with us in the parking garage where the buses and multiple trucks are waiting for the concert to end and the tour to get on the road.
He leads me onto the first bus, the one all the boys will spend the first night in if tradition is to be relied on.
He does the walk from one end to the other, including checking the bathroom and enclosed bedroom.
Each bus has one as well as bunks. Sometimes the boys have visitors or family join them on certain legs of a trip.
Again, it’s a tradition I expect is still the same.
“Make yourself comfortable. The concert is winding down, but we’ll be here for a while still. ”
“Great.” I love how tight my asshole gets when I’m in a creepy garage space with almost no one around. Kodiak said there was no sign of someone watching my place when they went to get my things, unless I counted the drunk sleeping on the stoop.
Which I do. I can’t be certain that Marco didn’t track them back to the hotel and from there to the concert. Even though Kodiak and Bronx both assured me that they weren’t followed.
I hug my arms around myself, try to swipe away the chill that shivers over me. I can’t afford to underestimate Marco. And I won’t be comfortable until we’re on the road. Even then I don’t know when I’ll be able to stop looking over my shoulder.
I need to keep busy. I need something to do.
“Where will I be sleeping? Where is my stuff?” If it’s on one of the other buses that’s where I want to be. I need to find out what made it and what didn’t.
“Your things are over here.” He points out one of the condo bunks in bunk alley.
I pull back the privacy curtain and sure enough the sheet from my bed sits in the middle. A stack of books and papers and trinkets are beside it.
I crawl into the lower bunk and sit cross-legged while I pack away my collection of ceramic foxes onto a shelf. Laid on their side, my books fit beside them. My diamond painting kit goes on top of that. My pencil case of markers too.
I pop one in my purse to carry with me. They always come in handy. Keeping one on me at all times became a habit I got used to when I was managing L.A. Riot before... before everything.
Finished with the loose pieces of my life, I fumble with the huge knot keeping the rest of my things together.
It gives and I spread out the corners. There are drawers in the bunk, and I unpack my few clothes into them. I sold a lot when my savings first dwindled to nothing. My collection of shoes too.
My furniture and most of my belongings went up in flames when my old apartment building burned down. All the popsicle decks I’d collected. My longboards. My entire skateboard collection was destroyed.
What I have left of my stuff is precious to me. My favorite pieces of clothing. Some jewelery. Important documents. Memories I couldn’t stand to let go of. All things I had been wearing or grabbed on my way out when the fire alarm went off.
And there’s a few things I’ve collected since then. Mostly thrifted.
I stow my shoes on the shelving under my bunk. Fuck yes. They found my motorcycle boots.
My heart drops at the empty sheet where my things were. My memento box is missing. All of my letters, my photos, ticket stubs, lucky bottle caps, finger skateboards, and many more talismans of things I never wanted to let go of.
My eyes sting. I cover my mouth with my hand and pinch my nose to keep my emotions private from Jasper who is still in the front lounge. I’m not ready to let go, not like this.
“We’re on the move.”
I don’t expect Rook’s voice on the bus, which is probably why it startles me out of my thoughts.
“Copy,” Jasper says.
“And the package?” Rook asks.
“Where Riot told me to put her,” Jasper tells him, and that’s when I realize he’s talking about me.
But Riot wants me on his bus? That’s unexpected.
Considering his threat to me and the bruises on my throat, near him is the last place I want to be.
Shouldn’t that be mutual? Unless he figures the quickest way to run me out of here is to keep me close enough to make this trip a living hell.
Ha! Fat chance. As if he could do anything to me that would hurt near as much as the pain he already caused.
That doesn’t mean I won’t prepare myself.
I climb out of the bunk and go to the kitchen to grab something to protect myself with. Jasper watches me lift the kitchen knife and then tsks until I put it back. He shakes his head when I pick up the stainless-steel pan.
I glare at him and take a fork from the utensil drawer. He lets me have that one item. He’s underestimating the damage I can do with one tiny metal pitchfork.
I take it back to my bunk and stow it under my pillow. Then I pick out a couple of pieces of my own clothes. It’s been fun running around in Bronx’s clothes, but I could do with the confidence that looking my best brings.
Oh, I need new panties too. Mascara and eyeliner. Not enough time for anything else. I rifle through the drawer of slippery silk, and lace.
Oh fuck.
I dig in harder, searching for the pink vibrator that would have been with my lingerie. It’s not here.
Bronx wouldn’t have stolen it. Kodiak either. I imagine Bronx would let it slip as a flirt. Kodiak would wear that filthy smirk he had this morning as he sucked my juices from his fingers.
No, neither of them would have taken it. They would have made sure it was available to me.
Was Marco inside my apartment, rifling through my life? Did it get left in the drawer? Or did Riot—that prick—steal my vibrator?