Chapter 15
A bby
“How do I look?” I stood before Rosemary in all my terrified glory. This afternoon, after my hallway encounter with Liam, I took my first tour paycheck and hit the streets in search of a hot dress I could wear for him tonight post-show. If I was going to tip Liam over the edge, make him fall my way over the fence, I had to keep his visual interest.
Rosemary’s eyes took on a shiny glow. “Wow.”
“Is that wow bad or wow good?” I glanced down at my tight, red minidress with black boots laced up to the knee. I had my reservations about the outfit, feeling like a fille de joie from a house of ill repute, but when I’d told the sales lady I’d be wearing it to the Point Break concert tonight without offering any more details, she assured me it would get me into Liam Collier’s pants.
Rosemary choked on her laughter.
Ha. If she’d only known .
“Abby, you look H-O-T. You could easily give Emilie Autumn a run for her money.”
“So I look like a clown rag doll?”
“No!” She scoffed, losing patience. “You look theatrical, provocative, a goddess of strings, the complete opposite of stuffiness and boring black and white.” She gave me two thumbs up. “I approve of this dress. Perfect makeup, too. Go get ’im.”
“Okay…” I breathed out a heavy sigh, grabbing her squarely by the shoulders. “Then wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it. You got this. Liam is going to forget everyone and everything from his pre-Abby days. Giselle? Giselle, who?” She hugged me tightly.
“You’re my best friend,” I said. “I think I’ll keep you. You sure you don’t want to come?”
“Nah.” She pointed in the general direction of the buses. “It’s been a long day. Think I’ll go shower and call it a night. Really, I’m fine.” She smiled, and I hugged her again.
“I’ll check in with you later.” I headed out of the dressing room and down the hall, closer to the din of festivities coming from the VIP and surrounding rooms. Smiling, I worked the boots, feeling like Sandy from Grease about to meet Danny Zuko, imagining the gawks I’d get as soon as I reached the band. No doubt Tucker would say something crass. Corbin would probably stare me down like he did at Robbie’s house that night, and Wes would sweetly compliment me. And Liam? Not to sound like him, but Liam would crap his pants.
The partying noises grew closer. My nerves jittered more by the moment. I approached the towering, familiar form standing by the door. “Good evening, Nathan.”
“Good evening, Miss Chan. You’re looking lovely this evening.”
“Thank you. Is it okay for me to go inside?” I asked, peeking through the space between the double doors, hearing familiar voices within. “Liam did say we’d meet after the show. ”
For a split second, he was hesitant. “I’m actually not sure. Sorry to do this…” He checked his clipboard while I waited, tapping my purse, for approval. “Well, you are on the list as staff, miss. And as Mr. Collier’s guest.” He smiled, reached for the door, and pulled it wide open for me.
“Thank you. Have a good night.”
“You, too, Miss Chan.” He beamed his friendly big-boy smile.
From the millisecond I walked in, everybody’s faces snapped toward me. There was Robbie, Wes, Wes’s friend from grade school, and all the roadies, and the eyes of every man in the room ogled and widened to three times their size. Tucker paused his frolicking with a topless woman when he saw me. I watched his hand slip into his pocket.
“Hey, Abby.”
“Hi, Abby.”
The greetings came from all around. “Helloooo, Miss Abigail…” a tech crew guy said, smiling, running a hand through his hair.
Their reactions empowered me. Never had I felt like one of those glossy, poolside vixens from Robbie’s house back in LA, but tonight, I was a contender.
I turned my attention back to Tucker, but he’d moved, and it was hard to find him in the crowd. He was texting.
A tall lankiness slid into my path. “Hey, darlin’,” Wes said with a smile.
“Hi, Wes, have you seen Liam?” I asked.
“I have, I have.” He nodded, drink in hand. “But he uh…wasn’t feeling well last time I saw him. Maybe you should text him.”
My eyebrows knotted together. “So he’s not here?” A leaded feeling plagued my rib cage, made it hard to breathe. I didn’t grow up with brothers, but I was keenly aware of the unspoken rules whereby male buddies covered up for each other in the face of female crises.
“’Fraid not.” He laced his arm around my shoulders and ushered me to the side of the room. “He might be on the bus, but I wouldn’t go there. He’s feeling sick, just wants to sleep, you know? Let him know where you are…tell him you’re looking for him.” Something showed in his face, as though he hated the fact that he was lying to me.
Maybe he was telling the truth, but things didn’t feel right.
Then, Tucker, sloppy and shirtless, whooshed next to me. “Hey, Abby.”
“Wow, you called me by my name. Maybe I finally have your respect?”
“You’ve always had my respect.” He smiled sheepishly, and in that one instant, I liked him a whole lot better than before. “I just joke around too much. Listen…” Tucker’s green eyes scanned the room then came back to me, trying intently to make me understand. I felt na?ve. I felt like an innocent child. “Liam’s kind of…you know…figuring out what he needs right now.”
“What he needs?” I asked for lack of a better response. I was just stunned. Scared now.
“What he wants, Abby…out of life.”
“Out of life.” I stared ahead. Robbie, managers, agents, and roadies all milled about, drinks in hands, some ignoring the multitude of women walking around, some groping them in the seedy dark corners of the room. Was this the life I wanted to be a part of?
“You only just started seeing each other.” Tucker’s voice echoed in my ear. “He needs his space today.” His eyes tried impressing his warning on me, that I should go away, that I didn’t belong here. It didn’t matter that I’d dressed to impress Liam, and fine, maybe all of them. The hard fact was, I didn’t, and never would, fit in with them.
“Needs some space. I understand.” There was nothing else to say, and everyone in the room seemed to know what we were talking about, here in the corner, Tucker prattling at me like a boxing coach to his protégée, getting me ready to go. At the far end of the room, a closed door called to me.
Suddenly, Nathan was back, charging toward us with a tentative smile, hand outstretched as if to placate a frightened deer. “Miss Chan, can you come with me? There’s some nice drinks and snacks in the other room waiting for you and Miss Bourré.”
I knew it. I knew he shouldn’t have let me in here. It was a mistake. I could tell from the moment I walked in, as though silent “Danger! Danger!” sirens were blaring in the minds of all of Liam’s friends. “I don’t want any fucking snacks,” I heard myself say.
“Oh, shit,” Corbin muttered, putting down the drink he’d been bringing me.
“He’s in that room, isn’t he?” I stared at the closed door. I didn’t need to hear the answer. I already knew. And the worst feeling of all? I knew that I had no right to him. I had none. Zero. So I had slept with him twice, three times this week, that was it. So we had talked about having feelings for each other. So we had intimate conversations and times involving balconies and bathtubs. Big deal.
I was still nobody to him, apparently.
It was why I’d spent the day alone. While he did whatever he wanted, because he could—he was the star of the show, my boss, his own man. He didn’t have to answer to anyone, least of all a girlfriend. Of course not.
So it wasn’t because of any feelings of possession on my part that I cleaved the room in two, charging for the closed door, dressed to kill and ready to expose. It was because I’d been stupid. I was furious, yes, but with myself. I’d been so incredibly na?ve, so clueless and gullible to believe that Liam might actually keep his promise to tell me first if he had no plans to be true to me. And to think we could have had anything worthwhile together after only a week.
So. Incredibly. Stupid .
I only wanted him to know that I knew. And yet, a part of me hoped I’d be wrong. That I’d find him inside that room sleeping, feeling sick, playing charades, anything. I would much rather take the embarrassment of making a fool out of myself than proving myself right. Liam said I knew it all—it was one of the reasons he liked me.
“Let’s see if I’m right,” I muttered.
“Abby…Abby…” Someone called after me. I felt strong hands wrapping around my upper arms. “You don’t want to do that.” It was Wes, the only person here who truly cared about me, warning me, trying to protect me. Of all these rock stars, Wes was the only one who actually rocked. “Abby, it’s not worth it.”
I reached the door as Tucker and Corbin tried to fend me off, but Wes put out a hand to placate them. “Guys, it’s not our problem. Leave her be.” He turned a worried expression on me and backed away.
“Whatever, bro,” Tucker said, throwing his hands up.
“It’s not like he invited her here,” I heard Corbin say as my hand turned the doorknob. “That was your doing, dickhead.”
“Me?” Tucker and Corbin argued over whose fault this was, but I couldn’t pay attention. I turned the knob, hearing the collective silent gasps around the room. Maybe she was just visiting. Maybe they would just be talking, sorting things out. Still I had to know. I had the right to be there. We’d made love repeatedly. It did mean something.
I let the door fly.
Nightmares do come true, but I had to say, this wasn’t my worst nightmare. My worst nightmare would’ve been my husband doing this to me one day. Luckily, Liam wasn’t my husband. Just a mistake that would haunt me for a while. Giselle Vici, lingerie model and Liam’s last summer fling, was doing what she did best—straddling Liam, holding his head in her hands, pushing her naked breasts against him, kissing him while his hands sat loosely on her waist .
Kissing my Liam.
I wiped my eyes and told myself to shut up. He was never, not now, not ever mine.
This is your own fault, Abby. You didn’t listen to your own warnings.
I hated him at that moment. Hated myself more for not listening, for letting my heart and body dictate my life.
“Nice,” I said. One word, that was it.
He didn’t seem to be too into it—I’d give him that much—but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because this was over. I would never let anyone into my heart or bed ever again.
He looked up, the worst case of “oh, shit” disgracing his face. His jaw dropped open, and he moved his mouth to speak. The hands came off Giselle’s waist.
“Don’t…” I held back the stream of curse words dying to be released.
Liam stood, pushing Giselle aside, her long legs teetering from his force. She pouted her lip-gloss-less lips.
“Nothing’s happened, Abby.” The lip gloss was all over his mouth and cheeks.
“Yes, I see how absolutely nothing is happening.” I turned and fled the room to oh’s and ugh’s from Liam’s brotherhood. I never belonged here in the first place. I would call my mom and tell her I was coming home. I would find another way to make a buck that didn’t involve heartbreak and humiliation.
I ran through the room, blind rage building inside of me. If just one more of those assholes got in my way and tried to stop me, I would use the few martial arts moves I knew and give them reason to perpetuate the Asian Persuasion stereotype.
“Abby, come back, please,” Liam called. “Let’s talk about this.”
“Fuck you!” I screamed, turning the corner where all the equipment was lined up, ready to pack and load onto the buses. I grabbed the first guitar I saw, a red bass propped up next to a row of amplifiers, and lifted it high into the air .
“No! Not that one!” someone cried from somewhere behind me—Corbin—but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t control the fury in my heart. They were rock stars. They had money. They could buy a new one. Fuck them.
Wielding the bass high in the air, I slammed it down with such force, the guitar cracked down the middle, but it wasn’t enough. I picked it up again and slammed it into the wall, splitting it in half, pieces of wood splintering through the strings.
“Fuck!” Corbin shouted. “That’s my best Gibson. Liam, you asswipe, bro!”
“Nice one, Abster!” Tucker cried, lifting his hand to high-five Corbin only to meet with empty silence. “Yeah, baby!”
“Shut up, fucktard,” Corbin muttered.
“Sorry, bro.”
Throwing the guitar on the ground, I fought the urge to care, to apologize, righted my purse on my shoulder, and strolled back down the hallway in the direction from which I’d come. What I should have done from the beginning.