Chapter 4
Chapter Four
SIENNA
Louise was an evil genius. In the two days since my tour had ended, we’d managed to be the highlight of the gossip rags and I had a new SnapChat Celebrity Watch series dedicated to me and my ‘spiral from good girl to good bye’ — I wasn’t entirely sure what the headline was supposed to mean, and normally the attention would make me feel all claustrophobic and itchy, but the source material they were using was largely harmless.
It just showed how curated and filtered my online content and presence had become that a slightly suggestive pouty selfie was newsworthy — to a certain audience, anyway.
We had carefully orchestrated the downfall of Sienna Slade: Pop Princess, and I was excited to dance in the ashes and rise up into a new me. A better me.
Louise had managed to get the login details for all of my social media accounts that I didn’t have saved and had immediately changed the passwords so the label’s social team no longer had access.
Then we’d done an hour-long live stream that was just me, Louise, Cade and Muffin watching Twilight and taking shots when we got to a meme.
The fans had loved it, I’d had a great time, and, most importantly, the studio couldn’t do anything about it.
But if I'd known that the next step of Louise's plan involved this level of social interaction, I might have vetoed it altogether.
Unfortunately, the damage was done. So now I was stuck in a dress that felt too short, talking to people I didn't really know, over music so loud that I had no idea what they were saying.
Was it rude to leave your own party early?
I smiled and nodded at the guy in front of me, hoping my reaction was appropriate to whatever he was telling me.
Officially, this was my end of tour party. Unofficially, this was my wildchild ‘debut’ into adulthood. A reminder that despite my label's PR, I wasn't a teen pop princess.
More realistically, however, this was an exclusive party full of people I didn't know.
Some I recognised from magazines and other tabloid trash, or I had crossed paths with them at other parties and awards shows, but I wasn't sure I wanted to know just how Louise had got in contact with half of these people at such late notice.
The idea was to let loose, go a little wild, get drunk and dance on a table and, by all means necessary, get papped — because this little show would be for nothing if the label didn’t know about it.
Sienna Slade, the industry sweetheart, the angel, throwing a rager?
Drunk and throwing up in the street? Making out with a boy or two at the bar?
Whatever I had to do, I’d do it to get my life back from under the thumb of the studio execs.
I managed to escape from the guy I'd been talking to, or trying to at least, and exchanged smiles and nods with multiple people as I pushed through the crowd to grab a drink.
Louise had worked her magic, managing to rent an up-and-coming bar at the last minute.
The place was nice, if dancing and bad decisions were what you were into.
I wasn't opposed to the former, and I could admit I was wishing for the latter. Even if this wasn’t a PR stunt, it was past time that I was allowed to have a little fun.
The bar top was black and sparkled slightly under the colorful lights that pulsed in time with the music.
Three shots were set down in front of me and I didn't hesitate, throwing them back one after another and wincing at the final glass.
Some kind of lemon vodka that tasted more like it should be used for cleaning a bathroom than for anything else.
"You look like you're having a good time," a high-pitched voice yelled into my ear and I nodded at the bartender for another round of drinks for me and whoever had approached.
My eyes widened as I looked at the girl at my side. Celia Oakwood. She was an actress, one far above the caliber I'd been in my small sitcom, and genuinely talented to boot. And she was at my party.
"Hi!" My smile was probably a shade too bright but Celia didn't seem to mind as I inclined my head towards the fresh row of shots waiting for us.
Either I was acclimatizing to the music or her voice was just the right pitch to carry over the heavy bass, but I heard her perfectly when she said, "Loved your album by the way. I'm not much of a pop girly, but the sounds were good. Catchy."
While Celia spoke, my third shot kicked in and I could only assume that liquid courage was the reason I was able to not outwardly scream that Celia fucking Oakwood had listened to my music. I was calm. I would be calm and interact with one of my favorite celebrities like a normal person.
Or maybe not, considering she was staring at me like she'd asked me a question and I'd been too busy staring to know what she'd said.
There was an awkward beat where we both stared at each other before breaking down into laughter.
"Sorry." I gasped between giggles. "I can't hear a damn thing in here."
She raised her drink to me in cheers before retreating back out into the thickening crowd.
I stayed by the bar, unsure I wanted to dive back into the throng of strangers who'd come out to celebrate me.
Though, I wondered how many of them actually knew whose party this was.
More likely, their publicist had told them that this was the place to be tonight.
I'd only been here for an hour or so and I was already wondering when I could leave.
Sure, getting dressed up was fun — especially when I was finally in control of my own wardrobe — but this party was a means to an end.
My label wanted to steamroll me and then act like I was being rash, or overly emotional, when I disagreed.
But I didn't think it was unreasonable to want to be in control of your own life. I couldn’t post on my socials without approval from a PR team, my clothes had to be pre-approved before I could wear them out in public, and god forbid I stepped away from pastels and sparkles to wear a smokey eye.
Although, admittedly, I was fond of pastels. But still.
I wanted to write and make music that I actually cared about, to be treated like the adult I was.
I was done letting the studio dictate what I could and couldn't do. If there was one thing about my current career that my dad would have been proud of, it would be this. Being independent was something I was good at and had been for a long time. My dad did the best he could in raising me, but he was a rockstar, not a parent. Fending for myself was as easy as breathing at this point. I suspected it was how I’d been coerced into letting the label walk all over me to begin with, mistaking control for affectionate guidance because I’d never really known the real thing before.
"This seat taken?"
I jumped, too lost in my own thoughts and the pounding bass to notice the tall guy hovering next to me.
He smiled and I relaxed. There was something about him that immediately put me at ease, maybe it was the softness in his dark eyes or the awkward, crooked smile he wore.
Still, the languid relaxation in my muscles was unusual. Must be the shots kicking in.
I gestured to the bar stool next to me and used the same hand to signal to the bartender that we needed more drinks.
Our glasses clinked and the clear alcohol went down with a burn that made me wince.
The song shifted to a softer melody and I breathed a sigh of relief. "How long do you think I have to wait before I can dip from my own party?"
He chuckled and the sound was warm and maybe I was drunker than I'd estimated because I thought it seemed fitting for him.
He was like the physical embodiment of fall: brown eyes and hair that gleamed red under the laser lights and pale skin smattered with freckles visible even beneath the stubble of his beard.
"I'd give it a couple hours, let yourself be caught in the background of enough selfies for there to be evidence you were here," he teased and when I raised my glass questioningly he shook his head.
"Not much of a drinker?"
He shrugged. "This isn't really my scene. Not any more anyway. I just came to try and convince my brother to relax."
"Did it work?" I set my glass back down and shook my head at the bartender when he raised the bottle in my direction.
"You tell me," fall-guy said, nodding off in another direction and I followed his gaze to a dark-haired figure lurking in the corner with his eyes fixed to his phone.
"Well, you tried." I patted his arm gingerly and cleared my throat slightly. "I'm Sienna, by the way."
"August," he said, blinking slowly and offering me a large, warm hand to shake. "I don't think I've had to introduce myself to anyone for a long time."
I chuckled. "Sorry, I don't always keep up with who's who. Are you in the music business too?"
"Sports," he said, full lips curving in a way I found myself watching closely. That's when it clicked and I blinked, pulling away slightly.
"Ah, yeah I've seen you on the TV. Tigers, right?
" I forced myself to look away. The TV wasn't the only place I'd seen his handsome face before.
He was a frequent feature in the gossip rags, usually with a different woman on his arm every time, or, he had been at one point.
I hadn't seen him in there much recently and I read the click-bait stories enough that I’d have seen him.
They were a strange guilty pleasure, one Cade often indulged in with me.
"Yep. I was a regular feature in the Players Weekly section of Sportsman for a while too." There was good humor in the words and I grinned, relieved he wasn't trying to hide his playboy maybe-past.
For a few minutes we sat quietly, people watching as a group of girls I vaguely recognised as a popular new girl-band gathered together for a selfie.
"So why are you so desperate to leave, anyway? You're young, shouldn't you be enjoying all this before it gets boring?"
I leaned closer to hear his words and when I looked up I was caught in the perfect curl of his eyelashes. "You're hardly old yourself," I said with a laugh, pulling away.
"Older than you." He raised an eyebrow and I snorted, covering my face in shock after the sound escaped.
August laughed, the sound deep and rich, vibrating through me harder than the music.
"It's already dull to me," I admitted once his laugh had faded. "Parties like this made up most of my childhood." I bit the inside of my cheek, not sure why I'd confessed that truth to a perfect stranger and decided to chalk it up to the alcohol again.
He nodded slowly, hand flexing around the edge of the bar, and for a second I thought he was going to walk away and leave me sitting here.
Instead, he stood and offered me that hand, grinning at me when I hesitated. "Come on, one dance. You might even have fun."
I hopped off the bar stool, pleased when I didn't stumble. My hand found his and I swallowed hard at the frisson of electricity that raced between us from the contact.
August didn't hesitate, pulling me deeper into the crowd until we were in the centre of the dance floor. The tiles beneath our feet gleamed the same shimmering black as the bar top and the colored lights passed over us in a haze of purple and pink as a guitar riff played loudly.
His hands found my waist and mine rested on his broad shoulders lightly. I swayed, rocking in time with the music, and his head moved in time to the beat, a smile in his eyes that made me blush.
I had to look up to meet his gaze, and it was an unfamiliar sensation.
I wasn't short, but he made me feel petite in comparison to his large frame, clearly built for athleticism.
Though my choreography for my tour hadn't exactly left me unfit, I had nothing on the muscles I could feel shifting under my palms as he danced.
Three songs passed in the warmth of his embrace, the curling heat of his laugh, and when his fingertips grazed the bare skin of my back where my dress dipped low I shivered.
There was a question in his eyes and I answered it with my lips, pressing them against his once, twice, and pulling back to see his thoughts.
This could be exactly what I needed. One night to be that someone on his arm in tomorrow’s gossip feature.
My face hovered inches away from his and when he licked his lip, the hand at my back pulled me in closer so I was tucked into his body.
I tilted my face up, our eyes locking as heat swirled between the small space between us.
His other hand slid into my hair and then he dragged me back against his mouth.
August kissed like it might be his last chance to ever do so. It was consuming, hungry, and when his lips parted I flicked my tongue against his tauntingly.
I could feel him, his body hard against mine, but his hands on me were gentle like I was made of glass, precious.
It was sweet, but that wasn't what I wanted. Not tonight.
I bit lightly on his lip, tugging it, as I let his leg slip between mine while we swayed out of time to the music.
He groaned into my mouth and my own hands slid up from his shoulders to play with the longer ends of his hair, fingers scraping lightly until he shuddered.
"How drunk are you?" he rasped into my ear and I bit back my triumphant smile.
"Not very."
"Thank fuck."
He kissed me again and this time it felt different, like a promise of more to come.
The rest of the room faded into background noise as he led me back through the crowd and towards the exit.
Drunk on his mouth, I didn't think to warn him about what would be waiting outside until we were already out in the middle of it.
August didn't falter, acting like the paparazzi weren't even there as he tucked me into his side and I raised a hand against the bright flashes of the cameras. A car pulled up to the curb and I recognised Cade in the front, looking out for me, as always.
August held the door open and I lost my breath when his mouth covered mine before I could climb inside. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and then the door was closing as he slid in next to me.
Cade met my eyes in the mirror and I gave him a reassuring nod. I knew what I was doing. I wanted this.
The car started moving and his hand found the bare skin of my knee, stroking maddening circles into the space there until I felt myself clenching inadvertently, imagining his fingers moving languidly like that elsewhere.
"Are you sure about this?" August whispered, eyes warm on me as I dropped mine to the thoroughly-wrecked state of his mouth, puffy from our kisses.
"Yes." I'd never felt surer about anything in my life.