Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BONNIE
“You’re too nice,” Mads is saying to Reed when we get back.
“What does the fucker want this time?” Zeb asks as we go through the door.
Gemma’s angry face softens slightly when I pass her, our eyes meeting, and the look makes my cheeks warm. However, the moment is short-lived as Reed continues speaking, and Gemma’s jaw clenches, her body language stiffening completely.
“He wanted to know about getting in on the game with us tonight,” Reed says, his gaze flickering to Gemma who’s setting her bag on the counter. “That was shut down really fast, though.”
Gemma doesn’t say anything.
The entire ride over, she was quiet—A scary quiet. Zeb and I chatted about what Rad could possibly want, each idea as horrible as the last. I don’t know Rad as well as they do, thank fuck. Still, I’m not fond of him being back in the picture.
None of the stories I’ve heard were ever good stories.
“He says he’ll be at Radio Eleven, too,” Reed goes on, pacing. “Said he wants to see us and wondered if we could get him backstage.”
“Fucking typical.” Zeb settles on the arm of the sectional. “Guy just wants to pretend he’s important.”
“Yeah, fuck that. I’m not asking to give him a pass so he can tell girls he’s in a band and then drug them later,” Mads says.
I sit up, a knot forming in my stomach. “Wait, what the hell?” I ask, trying to recall every encounter I’ve ever had with him and whether I was a sloppy mess or not.
Who am I kidding?
I was always a sloppy fucking mess back then.
“Yeah,” Mads says with a scoff. “It honestly wouldn’t surprise me if that night he OD’d on the kit, if he’d tried to drug some girl and drank the wrong drink.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Zeb mutters.
“Wait, was he actually doing that? Like you knew about it? I thought it was like a running joke that he drugged girls—or, obviously not a joke, but just… Just a way to emphasize how creepy he is,” I go on. “He actually did it? And you let him stay in the band?”
Because it’s hard to believe Mads allowed anyone like that near him after his past with his own rapist father.
Mads and Zeb look at each other, yet it’s Reed who speaks.
“Mads beat him to the point of hospitalization when he found one of the girls in Rad’s bedroom passed out,” Reed says. “Spent a few nights in jail because of it.”
“I went to jail twice because of that fucker,” Mads says. “Remember that second night when he tried to start shit with Bon? At our album party?”
God, I barely remember that night.
“Oh yeah,” Reed remembers. “And then, the next day…”
Reed’s voice trails as he looks at me, and I remember why.
That was the morning my stalker left a girl’s fingernails in a box on my bunk.
“Fucker,” Mads mutters, and I’m grateful for the subject change.
No one else knows about the fingernails.
“He’s not allowed anywhere near Andi. No one…” Mads sighs, head hanging. “I won’t put someone like that near her. And you shouldn’t let him near Wren, either,” he says to Reed.
“She won’t be at Radio Eleven,” Reed says.
“You shouldn’t be entertaining him at all ,” Andi tells her brother. “You’re being too nice. Every time he comes near any of you, all hell breaks loose. Do you really want that to happen at a festival that you’re one band from headlining? ”
“Her name was Amanda,” Mads says suddenly.
All of us look at him, silence falling over the room. Mads is bent over his knees and staring at his hands as if he can’t think of anything but her face. My chest aches as Andi reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, and when he speaks, I can feel every ounce of pain laced through the words.
“Her name was fucking Amanda, and she woke up in that shit hole apartment we were all sharing without any clue as to how she got there or why she was…” He pauses to swallow, his voice hoarse, and Andi grips his hand.
“She was so scared, and I remember Rad making a fucking joke about it—calling her a drunk slut, and saying she should remember the dick she sucked, and I fucking lost it .”
“I thought Rad was dead when Reed and I got back from breakfast,” Zeb says.
“He should’ve been,” Mads goes on. “We didn’t have any proof that Rad was fucking with girls until that morning. The three of us got a new apartment together and started trying to find a replacement while he was in the hospital, but no one… No one felt right. That last show was the first one we had back after he recovered. We didn’t want to play, except fucking Avie was supposed to be at that gig, and we couldn’t pass up the chance of getting seen by Death Tower. We were going to find a new person before signing anything. We just needed a chance.” Mads peers my way. “And then, you jumped onstage.”
“Thank fuck for that,” Andi says.
“Tell Rad we can’t do backstage,” Zeb suggests.
“Better yet, just don’t text him back ,” Andi says pointedly to Reed.
“He’ll go public and say we’re ignoring him if I do that,” Reed says.
“Let him. Fuck that guy,” Mads grunts. “If he says something, we’ll out him. I’m not keeping his fucking secrets anymore. It’s not like I’m holding out just so he doesn’t rat out my identity anymore. He has one chance now. We’re done.”
“Just say ‘Maybe we’ll see you there,’” Zeb says to Reed. “Leave it at that. Don’t make any plans for him.”
“I’ll be walking the other way if he shows up,” Mads replies.
“I don’t want him coming near any of you without me around,” Gemma says sternly.
The five of us pause, heads turning in her direction at the absolution in her tone. She’s standing at the front of the long end of the sectional now, arms folded over her chest, and the beautiful, yet angry, expression on her face makes me gulp.
“How do you know about Rad?” Zeb asks.
Her mouth twists slightly. “I know plenty about Radlee Cutrelle,” she says, the name spitting from her mouth as if it’s garbage. “Probably more than you do.”
“Such as?” Mads asks.
“Such as… He still used the band’s name for a year after leaving to get women into bed with him, and within that same year, he would post videos talking shit about all of you. Nearly doxxing you,” she says with a nod at Mads, “though, I’m assuming now that the only reason he didn’t was because he thought you might murder him instead of just kicking his ass. Or that you might tell people about that girl.”
“I had a friend,” Mads says, meeting Gemma’s eyes. “It’s not in your report because nothing exists. But I had a friend who… knew things.”
“Dude, are you talking about Hal?” Reed asks.
Mads nods.
“Oh shit,” Zeb says, brows raised. “That guy was fucking terrifying.”
“Didn’t stop you from starting shit with him,” Mads mumbles, side-eyeing Zeb. “I was lucky he even talked to me after the crap that went down between you two.”
Zeb scratches the back of his neck, though he doesn’t say anything more.
“Who is Hal?” I ask.
“Someone I met in jail freshman year,” Mads replies, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “He was released and went to a few shows that first year, and I knew if I needed something… He was my insurance. He dug up some other dirt on Rad, something about some guys he had seen Rad with that he knew weren’t entirely wholesome.”
“Did he ever say who?” Gemma asks.
Mads shakes his head. “All he would ever tell me was that I never had to worry about Rad telling anyone who I was because of it.”
“Where is Hal now?” Gemma asks.
“He died a few years back. When we were signed to Death Tower, I also went to their legal department. I told them everything about my past, my dad. Everything about Rad just so they would have the entire picture. I didn’t want us to lose our deal because of my past.”
“You didn’t tell us that,” Zeb says.
“No.” Mads sighs. “No, I didn’t want you to know. They kept his secrets to protect me. This is all my fault.”
“You can’t blame yourself for this,” Andi tells him.
“I can, and I do,” he argues. “I was too busy trying to keep my own name secret because of my dad, too fucking scared Rad would have found out about it and turned the rumor around on me since my fucked up family has the history. And then I brought you guys into it.”
“There’s nothing you can do now, man,” Zeb says, sighing.
“Hey,” Reed jerks his chin toward Gemma. “What videos are you talking about?” he asks Gemma.
Gemma peers between us. “Kade found them when we were doing our initial sweep.”
“Like an online sweep?” Zeb asks. “I thought that’s what Heartless handled,” he says about DeathTower Records’s PR firm.
Her hazel eyes moved between us. “Heartless looks to control rumors once they’re already out there. Part of our job is to get rid of them and the source before the hemorrhage happens. My team doesn’t just handle your physical safety. We handle everything. Online and off. False claims online are just as much of a threat as someone getting too close. Rumors and online bullies can kill a career or reputation.”
“Tell me about it,” Mads mutters.
“Which is why Rad isn’t to approach any of you without me, Kade, or Liam there,” she adds.
“You don’t trust him?” Zeb asks.
“Doesn’t sound like any of you do either.” She pulls her phone out and presses it to her ear, then meets Reed’s eyes again. “Do what you want as far as texting him. I know you’re a nice guy and all, and that goes against some code you have, but… Radlee Cutrelle is a disease,” she says firmly. “He doesn’t deserve to hear from you after everything he did while he was in the band and after. Not to you. Not to those girls… You don’t want your name attached to that. I’m with your sister. Ignore him. And if he does happen to post anything online, we’ll take care of it—Hey, Kade—” She turns her back on us and heads toward the theater room. “Yeah, forget what I said earlier. I need you here tonight in case we need damage control so I encourage both of you to take a nap—”
Zeb whistles as the door closes behind her. “I’m glad she’s on our side.”
“Yeah,” Andi says, sitting up to nudge Mads. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
Mads brings her fingers to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “Yeah, I need out of this conversation,” he says, standing.
“What should I tell Rad?” Reed asks.
“Just ignore him, Reed,” Andi replies tiredly. “Listen to your bodyguard. He isn’t worth all of this stress.”
Reed slumps into the seat and leans over his knees, his foot bouncing as he holds his phone, the text thread to Rad on the screen. I don’t like seeing Reed like this. So torn and unsure…
“Why can’t you let it go?” I ask him quietly.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I guess because I’m worried about what he’ll do if I don’t give him something,” Reed replies.
“This is why we have people who watch our backs now,” I say. “You don’t owe him anything.”
“Don’t I?” Reed says. “He had all of these connections. He knew so many people on the circuit. We wouldn’t have gotten half of those gigs that year had he not introduced us to the owners of the clubs or his friends. You know how many times he reminded me of that?”
“He didn’t do any of that for you, or because he believed in what you were doing,” I say. “He did it because it made him look better. It didn’t make him look like a failure, or like the guy who broke up the first band he was in. You can’t think that he was the reason any of this worked out. It worked out because the music is fucking amazing. You think I would have jumped on the stage if I didn’t think that?”
Reed peers up at me, and I can see the battle in his eyes.
“She’s right,” Zeb says, clapping Reed on the shoulder.
“The first time I met him, he told me he was only in the band for free drinks and pussy. He never believed in you or the music,” I say.
Zeb scoffs. “Do you know how many times I heard him say that over the years?” He clears his throat and puts on a mocking face. “ Hey man, let’s go score some free drinks. I hear the pussy’s good at this place, ” he imitates Rad. “Like women were something he could just order off the menu… Fucking prick. You know he used to say that shit to you because he thought you were a good target, right?” he adds to Reed. “Mads and I didn’t listen to his bullshit, but he knew he could get in this pretty little head of yours.” Zeb shoves Reed’s head in a joking way, and Reed smiles sideways at him.
“He’s still in your fucking head,” Zeb says in a fond tone. “Get him out. Fuck that guy.”
I stand up and offer Reed a hand, and he lets out a heavy breath when he stands.
“Yeah. Right.” He tosses his phone onto the couch. “Fuck him.”