ARROGANT BRIT (A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE) (48 page)

Chapter 17

Trent

It was well past daybreak by
the time we finally pulled up behind the
RipFest
venue, parking with the other rental cars. It appeared that half the busses
had already left, eager to make distance on the day.

Predictably, Steven flew out
from my tour bus as soon as we were within earshot. With his trademarked
hands in the air
routine, he was even
more livid than before.

“Alright, you dumb fuck, you
and I are gonna have some words,” my manager angrily declared. “And
without
the company of your dumb bitch
here.” He turned to her. “Babe, show’s over. Your sweetheart’s getting back to
work now, bye.”

I poked a firm, commanding
finger into his chest, and let my anger be known.

“If you
ever
call her a ‘dumb bitch’ again, I will shatter your bones under
one of these tires,” I practically spat at him.

He didn’t back down.

“Cut the shit, ass-wipe. We
were
supposed
to be on the road over
an hour ago, right? Why the fuck ain’t you picking up your goddamn phone?”

“I forgot my phone,” I
answered unapologetically.

“You…you forgot your phone.”
He was dumbfounded. “That is the stupidest goddamn shit I’ve heard out of your
smart mouth yet. You fuckers
never
leave
your phones out of sight.”

“Yeah, well, I was
distracted,” I told him, pushing past to bring Angel to the bus. Within the
instant, I knew the mistake, but it was too late to backpedal.

“I see that,” he coolly
observed. “Speaking of distractions, I can’t wait to see you explain why you’re
dragging a…an
associate
onto the
bus.”

“She’s my guest now,” I
gruffly replied.

“That’s not gonna fly.”

I opened the door for her.

“Just head to my room. Do
you remember where it is?”

Angel nodded quietly.

“Good. Go.”

She pushed inside, her
backpack catching on the door for a brief moment before she disappeared through
the door.

“She looks primed and ready
to hit the nature trail at a fucking campground,” Steven muttered. “You turn
down a whole bunch of groupies, but you get your dick wet with a hitchhiker?
Bitches literally
throwing themselves
at
your cock not good enough?”

I grabbed him by the cuff of
his shirt, tugging his face disgustingly close to mine.

“You want to talk? Let’s
talk,” I coldly started. “You have been a fucking
thorn
in our side from the start. I have no idea what your goddamn
problem is, but you need to cut your bullshit and start acting like a fucking
manager instead of a spoiled little bitch.”

Steven’s eyes flared with
anger, but he didn’t dare try to tug away from me.

“I promise you, Steven, I
will
work
on being easier to deal
with. In exchange, I bring this girl with us. She stays out of the way. No
problems. No distractions. She’s gonna be great for morale, and she’s coming
back home with me. Okay?”

His beady little eyes
positively glowered, but he didn’t lose his temper. However, he did seem to
evaluate the circumstances, because there was a pause before he finally opened
his fat, ignorant mouth again.

“Okay. Fine. Be the fucking
prima donna,” my unsightly manager finally muttered. “The bitch – the
girl
stays,” he quickly corrected
himself, “so long as she ain’t a liability. She stays out of my way, she
doesn’t interfere with the
band
, or
your performance
, and she can stay.”

I let go of his cuff.
“Deal.”

“We’ve only got, like, five
or six shows left anyway. Don’t go fucking this up for some pussy.”

I contemplated knocking him
out, but chose to take the high road. I met his sneer with a furious curl of my
lip before letting myself onto the bus.

The others were loitering
around the kitchen and entertainment areas. Dylan and Terence were playing
Mario Kart on one of the game consoles we kept hooked up to the big-screen TV.

Waylon, however, was
contemptuously watching me with a disdainful frown. As I tried to walk past, he
stepped in front with his arms crossed, his greasy, lean frame almost comical
in threat level.

“What’s this fuckery about
you coming in late with some wet-behind-the-ears chick?” He asked me pointedly.

“It doesn’t concern you,” I
told him distantly.

“Actually, it does. It means
I’ve gotta miss lunch. You know how much I hate missing lunch? It makes me all
cranky, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m aware. I’ll make
it up to you.”

“Right…”

He let the thought trail.

With a sigh, I took the
bait.

“What’s the problem?”

“What was your rule with the
bus?”

I fucking
knew
he was going to pull this.

“…No girls.”

“Right…” the thought trailed
again. “Except, funnily enough, just saw one. Only, the rest of us? We’re
already here. She came from your direction. Wanna, you know, clue us in on
that?”

The others were listening
now.

I growled inwardly.

It was time to lay down the
law again.

“She’s not going to be a
problem. I’m taking her home with me. She’s going to stay out of sight, you
understand?”

Waylon deliberated on this
for a moment.

“Yeah. Guess so. Even at the
shows, right?”

“What?”

“Well, you know, special
treatment and all. Unless you want to rub it in our faces, that is. If she’s
staying out of sight, that means she’s not leaving the bus for the shows.
That’s only fair, wouldn’t you say?”

“What difference does it
make if she watches us play?”

Waylon smiled cruelly.

“Well, here’s a scenario:
I’m playing. I’m rocking out. Having a good old time.

“I look over, who am I gonna
see? Bam. It’s your broad. I lose my focus. I start missing chords. What a
distraction, am I right? It’s just a total slap to the face. Here’s the
fearless leader’s girl, where’s mine? Oh right. Can’t have one. My thoughts
start wandering, my fingers start missing chords…”

I swallowed back my burning
temper. I’d have been more up for this shit if Steven hadn’t already put me in
a filthy fucking mood. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to assault my
guitarist, then go back outside and lose my shit with the manager.

Neither of which were
acceptable.

“You see where I’m going
with this?” He asked, feigning politeness. “It’s just a total bummer, but
easily avoidable.”

“Fine,” I growled. “I’m too
tired for this shit. You win. She stays on the bus during shows.
On one condition.
”

“Oh yeah?”

“She stays out of your
sight? You stay out of hers. Don’t go
near
her, don’t
speak
to her, don’t
even
think
about messing with her.
You understand?”

Waylon smiled wickedly.

“Heh. Yeah, all right then.
Have it your way,
boss.
The girl and
I steer clear of one another. She stays in that cage of yours until we’re home,
I don’t mess with her.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled.

It made me look weak to give
into his demands in front of the others, but I was exhausted.

I was
also
struggling to understand what I was really hoping to
accomplish with all of this.

Seriously?
Bringing her onto the bus?

Taking
her back home with you?

What
the FUCK are you thinking?

I couldn’t explain it, but I
barely had the energy to keep standing. Instead, I gave a brisk nod to the
others – who quietly returned my acknowledgement – and stumbled towards the
back of the bus.

Once in my room, I spotted
Angel seated on the edge of my bed. Her backpack was slumped in a corner, still
zipped up and ready to go.

With a heavy sigh, I let my
fatigue finally settle in.
Was it worth
it? Was it worth ostracizing my band, my manager, and my entire meal ticket for
this chick?

Angel looked up at me
softly, a few strands of her hair falling in front of her eyes. It was clear
that she sensed the conflict – hell, maybe she’d even
heard
that asshole talking shit.

“I can go if you need me
to,” she whispered sadly.

“Where I need you is here,”
I murmured.

What?
Seriously?

It was like my mouth was
running without me. First, there was my hesitation with the sex when I climbed
back on the bus, and now this. My brain wasn’t participating in
any
of this, not since I’d descended
upon her in the middle of the night.

But
is that better, or worse?

I didn’t really have an
answer. It seemed like my heart and my tongue had grown cozy together – too
cozy. I needed to be smarter than this. I knew that I had to think rationally
about this sudden change in the dynamic… after all, I’d just invited who was
supposed to be a victory fuck onto my bus for the rest of the tour, alienating
my band and our manager in one fell swoop.

But the way that she looked
at me, and that pain in her eyes, told me that somehow… somehow, I’d made the
right decisions.

Maybe
because I didn’t think about them,
I wondered.

 
Angel was looking at me, watching me
think to myself. As the fatigue of the night finally overcame me, I sank down
to the mattress and pulled her into a deep embrace. With my mind finally
quieting down again, I collapsed into the bed with her, allowing the world and
its stupidity to fade into blackness.

Chapter 18

Angel

I slept the best I’d ever
slept when I woke up that afternoon, curled up in Trent’s arms. He was knocked
out solid, quietly snoring away, and I watched this beautiful, strange rocker
murmur and shift in his sleep.

This had been fast, but it
had felt
real
.

I didn’t quite understand
it, and I could tell that he didn’t, either. Not really, at any rate. He seemed
the impulsive type, and he’d completely thrown me off-guard by almost backing
down from the sex last night… and by inviting me into his world like this.

I’d heard his bandmates.
They’d sounded
pissed
.

But he’d stood his ground,
the alpha male that he was. It was clear what he wanted, and that he’d make
concessions with them to have it. He could probably have told them all to go to
hell, but I’d seen that he did care about them – especially onstage.

Do
they fight a lot when they’re not performing?

Is
that what it’s like to work with people like this?

Eventually, he woke up too.
Once we’d climbed out of bed and freshened up a little, Trent laid down the
single ground rule:
stay back here
.
He made it clear that other members of the band had expressed some discomfort
in having me around, and that he’d had to agree that I’d stay in his bedroom or
in the adjacent bathroom.

I’d been too tired to really
think much of being a complication, particularly in the madcap dash to get back
to the bus and finally rest. It wasn’t hard to figure out the math once I
dwelled on the details.

After all, I was on a bus
with a bunch of guys who probably didn’t appreciate someone being thrust upon
them at the last second – especially not a girl, regardless of the fact that I
was apparently fucking their leader.

It was fine by me. I liked
his room – it was kind of sparse, and not terribly big, but that seemed like
the kind of thing Trent would favor. It was a little larger than my small
backroom at the Riverton Bar, but it was free of the odds and ends that
cluttered and dominated the space.

“I don’t need much,” he told
me at some point after we’d woken up. “Not on the road, at any rate. My place
is a little different…but I like to keep my distractions minimal when I’m on
tour.”

“But what about me?” I
chuckled coyly.

“I make exceptions,” he
whispered, his fingers threading into my hair and exposing my neck for his
hungry lips. “Exceptions for cute girls who know how to ride my cock the right
way.”

Oh
good,
I thought to myself.
So
the arrogant asshole thing’s going to stick around for a while.

Oddly, I kind of liked it.

But we couldn’t play for too
long.

Trent and his band had another
gig.

The single, curtained window
in his room didn’t tell me much, and my host kept me plenty preoccupied for a
short while. But as he left to practice with them before the show, he told me
where we were.

“Houston.”

“We’re in
Texas?
We just sailed through Louisiana
and I didn’t even know?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

“But Houston is so far…”

“And now you understand why
I was speeding,” he told me a little gruffly. “Steven might be a total asshole
of a manager, but he’s generally competent.
Generally
.”

Before he left, I reminded
him to take his pain medication. With an appreciative smile, he dug the orange
bottle out from a hidden spot in his closet, and then popped into the bathroom
to swallow it with a cup of water.

After he left, I stayed put.
I flipped through some books of his, realizing that I should have tried to find
something to keep myself preoccupied. But it wasn’t like I actually
had
anything like that back home,
anyway.

I’d mostly spent my time
tending to the needs of the bar, occasionally walking further into town and
occupying myself at the single, small bookstore that we had.

At least there are different
books here.

A few hours later, after the
night had fallen, Trent finally returned to the bus. He planted a quick kiss on
my lips before going to wash off in the shower. When he came back into the
room, I was preoccupied with thought.

I knew that I had to tell
him.

 
“There’s something you need to know about
me,” I reluctantly blurted out.

Briefly, just for a fraction
of a second, a look of penetrated concern flickered across Trent’s face. With
the blink of his eyes, it was gone, replaced with his cool, smooth confidence.

“What’s that? You’re not
really from Alabama? Secretly a government agent? Betrothed to another man?”

I shook my head, trying to
not take personal offense to that last one. I knew he didn’t mean it. He had
just sensed that this was bad.

“You know how I freaked out
in the car earlier this morning?”

Trent looked genuinely troubled
for a moment.

“Yeah. There’s a specific
reason for that?”

“There was an accident,” I
told him.

“An
accident
.”

“I was in the car with some
people – I don’t really remember who. Just a group of us. The driver, he was
going too fast, taking too many risks…we hit something and I was thrown from
the vehicle.”

“Oh my God,” he spoke, his
face growing pale. He covered his eyes, looking incredibly guilty. “I had no
fucking idea. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” I told
him.

“But were you…were you
hurt?
”

“Well, it
was
a high-speed collision, and I
was
ejected from the car,” I snarked
lightly, before toning myself back. “I mean…yeah. I was hurt pretty badly.”

“What…how did you…?”

“How did I survive?” I
asked, almost bitterly. “I don’t know. I was thrown into some trees. Luckily, I
wasn’t too mangled up. But I was in a coma for, like, weeks.”

“And your friends?”

“They didn’t make it,” I
told him, fighting back tears. “I think the driver did, but the rest of the
people in the car, they all died on impact. Getting thrown out saved my life.”

“And your memory?”

“Yeah,” I continued,
struggling to recall the details. “It’s kind of fuzzy. I lost a lot of my
memories from that point and back. The doctors told me that they don’t know how
I woke back up. But the damage was done. I barely remember a thing from before
the accident. Hell, the accident
itself
is
totally gone. I only know what happened because I was
told
.”

I realized that Trent was
squeezing my hand, staring deeply into my eyes.

“So, what
do
you remember?”

It wasn’t an easy question
to answer.

“It’s kind of like…you know
how you dream sometimes, and occasionally you remember it when you wake up, but
sometimes you don’t? If you’re lucky, you’ll remember it in the shower, or
maybe something during the day will remind you…and maybe it takes months for it
to click?”

Trent nodded thoughtfully.

“Right. So, I remember bits
and pieces – like, I know who my parents are. I can remember little… flickers
of things. Like, mental pictures. The way the sunlight bounced off of my hand,
running through the cattails in a pasture. I remember a man – I think he was my
grandfather – carrying me on his shoulders when I was really young, spinning me
around in the rain.”

He squeezed my hand gently.

“But…most of it is gone. All
I have are these tiny, fleeting moments. They’re small, and maybe
insignificant, but they’re all that I have left,” I told him.

It was only as he brushed
his knuckles against my cheek that I realized I had been crying. Trent looked
pained as he listened, wiping my tears aside.

“Everything from before me
being sixteen and younger is like a dream. I can’t remember much at once. It
only comes in small flashes, and then they’re lost unless I really focus on
them…and I can barely remember they were ever there from the start.”

“Have you been checked out?”
Trent asked. “Have you gone to see someone about this?”

“Not since the start. The
follow-up treatments were so expensive. Just the hospital visit from my coma
alone was terrible. It basically bankrupted my parents, not that they had much
to begin with.”

“And where
are
your parents?”

“Back in Alabama,” I told
him. “Not Riverton, though. Further back… deeper into the state. Interstate
doesn’t go anywhere near it.”

“You haven’t really
mentioned them before,” Trent observed. “Is there a reason why?”

Involuntarily, I thought
back to my other secret… the secret I wanted to take to my grave. His hand
squeezing mine felt so distant all of a sudden, and things were growing darker
and darker…

There was a voice, a husky
chuckle.

It shook me down to my core.

With a deep, calming breath,
I summoned up my strength and fought my way back to him from that crushing
darkness. The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than a second or two but, to
me, it felt as if I’d drifted back to that lightless abyss for hours… possibly
days.

“There aren’t really many
pleasant memories,” I quietly conceded to him.

“I see,” he answered with a
suspicious but supportive nod. “I’m not going to push you on that. I just…I
can’t imagine what it’s gotta be like.”

“What do you mean?” I asked
sincerely.

“I mean, I remember
mostly
what it was like, growing up,” he
told me. “But to have most of my life completely gone? I can’t think of how
hard that’s gotta be.”

“It’s not as difficult as
you might think,” I shrugged. “It just took some getting used to. Luckily, I
had help. Like with Old Greg. He didn’t have to take me in like that, but he
was a total lifesaver. I don’t know how I would have coped on the streets.”

“How did you wind up in
Riverton?” He asked, tilting his head.

“I was just hitchhiking…I
think Old Greg was the one to find me. It’s hard to be certain.”

“Old Greg?”

“Yeah…”

I pressed harder in my head,
focusing on the memory. My nose got that slight smell of copper that told me I
was on the verge of remembering.

“That’s right…” I smiled.
“It’s kind of in pieces…but yeah, Old Greg picked me up on the side of the
highway and he brought me back to his bar. It must have been late at night…the
place was closed when we got there. I don’t remember much else.”

“You weren’t scared?”

“No, that’s the funny
thing,” I recalled. “I trusted him. Without even questioning him, really.
Something about that old guy just told me that he wasn’t trouble. Maybe I saw
something good and pure in his eyes.”

“Do you think you knew him
before?” Trent asked, wondering about the connection.

“Nah. I wasn’t anywhere near
home when he found me… He was just some lonely old codger who took pity on some
stupid wayward kid in the middle of the night.”

Trent didn’t seem too
convinced, but he didn’t try to pry.

“Anyway, my head’s starting
to hurt…I think this little trip down
Memory
Lane
is kind of taxing me. How about we talk about something else?”