Bad Beats: A Rock-Star Step-Brother Romance (11 page)

Cadie

“No one’s busy thinking bad things about you. They’re all too busy thinking bad things about themselves.”

-Patrick Stump

My time with Shag has become blurred, forming a tapestry of memories, stitched together as reminders of our daytime escapades and ecstasy-filled nights.

It’s hard to believe we’ve reached the cruise’s final evening and the end of ten unforgettable days of sun and sex. I’m doing everything in my power not worry to about what happens once we dock in Miami tomorrow morning. Shag swears we will continue our romance and make our relationship public. I requested he hold off until I tell my father and figure out the best way to deal with the media attention his announcement will generate, forcing me and my life into the spotlight for his rabid fans to dissect and then condemn.

The chubby girl who gets the rock-star will undoubtedly cause a frenzy of opposing views. I’ll have to shut down my social media accounts, not that I use them that much anyway, but still. People will harass me at work, and the paparazzi will hound me with questions wherever I am. My life is going to be scrutinized, analyzed, and publicized, whether I like it or not.

The question is: do I like Shag enough to endure it?

I’m pretty sure I do, and my feelings may be stronger than like.

Stretched across the bed, I stare up at the ceiling. Agonizing over what’s coming next is putting a serious damper on my mood. Staying in the now and enjoying the moments as they add up has become my latest goal and something Shag has been helping me embrace. He’s helped with so much, pushing me to live more dangerously by taking risks I wouldn’t have dreamed of before. He’s encouraged me to live with passion and pride while learning to value what makes me who I am. He’s almost convinced me that we can do this relationship thing, back in the ‘real world.’

The incredible shagging doesn’t hurt either.

Be in the moment
,
be in the now
, I chant the words silently, but the mantra doesn’t work the same without Shag urging me on. When he’s around, I’m occupied with his overpowering presence and how he makes the practice of living in the present seem so simple.

Considering my current
moment
consists of me waiting for Robin to finish up in the shower, it’s no real surprise my mind has wandered off. I could have gone to Shag’s cabin, but I want to surprise him with my gown and the amazing cat mask I’ll be wearing to the formal masquerade ball, the cruise’s final, big event.

I’m counting on the ultimatum he gave Marcus Rodriquez, the
Rolling Rock
reporter, and trust it will keep him away from me for one more night. I’ve declined all his interview requests, and Shag somehow managed to get a hold of the photos taken on Grand Turk.

I do my part to avoid Rodriquez as well, always making sure to sit at the opposite end of the table whenever we’re forced to dine together, and I never allow him to catch me alone. I’ve noticed him lurking around the ship when we’re between destinations but never at any of the ports, thank God. The few times we’ve made actual eye contact left me feeling apprehensive. It’s like he has a plan and is just waiting to unveil its devastation.

Shag insists he’s handled the situation, but Roxie and Robin both believe my instincts shouldn’t be discounted. The best I can do is stay out of his path tonight, which might prove difficult with everyone hiding behind masques.

On my way to the cabin, after spending an amazing day exploring Nassau with Shag, I spotted Rodriguez talking to Misty, the PA from hell. The two were so involved in their conversation, I snuck by unnoticed.

Shag plans to fire Misty first thing tomorrow and is going to file a formal complaint and possibly a law suit against Marcus Rodriquez. I just can’t shake the feeling they are one step ahead of him.

I hope I’m wrong.

I’m so caught up in my thoughts it takes Robin calling my name three times to get my attention.

“Should I ask what’s on your mind?” She enters my bedroom, wearing only a white fluffy towel, her hair a wet mass of tangles.

“We would need all night for me to explain everything happening in my head.” The attempt to make light of my worries falls flat.

“Good or bad?” She pulls my gowns from the closet. “At least give me a clue.”

“A little of both, I guess.”

“What about the dresses? Have you made up your mind?” She raises the basic black gown up before presenting a jade dress that is far bolder in both color and style. “You have to choose, you know. It’s important to make the right decision.”

It’s obvious she’s referring to more than my clothing options, once again questioning my wisdom, or lack of, in relation to all things Shag Steal. I swallow a snippy retort guaranteed to get her up in arms and answer her question instead, “I thought I would wear the black and be safe, but nothing about his trip has been safe, has it?”

“Uh…you’re shagging the sexiest rock-star on the planet, anywhere and anytime you get the chance. I’d say you left ‘safe’ behind the first night your spread your legs.”

“Ouch! You make it sound so…so sleazy.”

I know that’s exactly what she thinks about my relationship with Shag. The sleaze factor is high on her list of reasons for me to shut him down the minute we leave the ship behind. I guess leaving the ship is my cue to stop making a fool of myself.

She’s warned me countless times this past week to keep my emotions out of the equation.

My heart must not have understood the memo, because it added one Shag, plus one Cadie, and ended up with an oddly mismatched couple that just might work.

“You figure it out. I need to get ready too. It’s not all about you, all the time.” She tosses the dresses on my bed, shocking me.

Things have been a tad tense, but this is over the top.

“Now you’re just being a bitch,” I snap. We’ve been bickering the past two days, all over my so-called stupidity with Shag.

She seems to have forgotten that she was the one who begged me to go with her to the Crude Element concert in the first place, and then encouraged me to pursue him, to have a fling, fuck someone famous, all in the name of fun. I’ve had fun, all right. I just don’t want it to end with our vacation. Is that a crime?

I haven’t bitched about her constant drunken behavior or the fact I know she slept with both twins, Marx and Stix. Not together, at least.
I hope
. That would be too weird. Shag informed me they frequently screw around with the same women, making it a competition of sorts.

And she has the nerve to get all judge-y about me and Shag.

Grabbing my towel, I march to the bathroom, while she storms the opposite direction to answer a knock at the door.

Robin greeting Tony, ready to beautify us one final time, is the last thing I hear before turning on the water.
It better still be hot!

My BFF, Misty, and that freaking reporter are so not ruining my last night with Shag. I won’t let them. This is supposed to be a magical evening to remember. I have every intention of creating a memory that will last forever.

* * *

Shag

The ballroom is brimming with people and uncontained excitement. It looks as if every winner and guest is in attendance, eager to enjoy one last bash aboard the Starlight Sea Queen. They all have adhered to the strict dress code, which doesn’t surprise me. Getting ejected from the cruise’s biggest event would be a fucked up way to end a voyage. I’ve managed to follow the code, for the most part.

Masked men and women swirl around the floor, doing their best to match steps with the classical music streaming through the high quality sound system.

I want to laugh. Our passengers are into rock, punk, and pop. I wonder how long this formal charade will last before someone finds a way to hook up an IPod, featuring a more modern playlist

Music won’t be the only thing that changes as the night goes on.

Bowties and suit jackets will end up tossed on tables, and women will discard their heels under those same tables once enough liquor is consumed, and I have a feeling, by the way folks are downing drinks, it won’t take long.

I agreed to meet Cadie at nine, an hour after the event’s official start time. Due to our early morning arrival in Miami, Misty, ever the control freak, determined an earlier start would be the better option for our big finale. All I know is that I can’t wait to be done with the over-organized bitch. We’ve barely spoken since I said no to her advances and hooked up with Cadie. Since then she’s become chummy with my latest nemesis, Marcus Rodriguez.

When I’m done with the reporter, he won’t be working for
Rolling Rock
or any credible publication. He’ll be lucky to find employment with LMZ.

“Care to dance?” a woman with a feathery masque asks, leaning close and brushing against me.

She’s blonde with tits that explode from her low-cut gown. Her lips are painted crimson, and her arms are weighted down with bangles. I can’t quite figure out the look she’s going for, but before meeting Cadie, the fact she was blonde and stacked would have been enough to arouse my interest. I would have taken her somewhere private, like a bathroom or utility closet, and released my pent up adrenaline with her mouth around my cock. Now the idea of touching her even to dance sounds revolting. 

I don’t bother with an answer, shaking my head instead. At least she’s not a complete airhead. She takes the hint and moves away, setting her sights on Stix. Apparently, even with our faces obscured, we’re recognizable to our fans, which I find amusing, considering I barely recognize myself.

My Huntsman tailored suit was designed specifically for this cruise. It’s the only one I packed. The rebellious rock-star part of me refused to add a dress shirt or tie, instead pairing the pricey piece with a solid black t-shirt and Harley Davidson boots. My gauge ear plugs are black with a thin ring of diamonds and are my only nod, besides the suit, to the evening’s formalities. Too lazy to worry about choosing a mask, I had Misty pick up a simple Zorro replica that does little to shield my identity. My height and bald head are dead giveaways, and there was no way in hell I was donning a wig.

If I could get away with it, I’d boycott this whole ball and its forced extravagance.

I am, however, despite my aversion, eager to check out the mask Cadie picked out in Punta Cana. She’d been all cloak and dagger, sending Omar to retrieve one she’d seen in a local shop, refusing to give me any hints. Omar wouldn’t give up the details either, siding with her. Had it been anyone besides Cadie he was covering for, his forthcoming raise might have been forfeit.

With my sexy redhead occupying my mind, I scan the crowded room, wondering what’s taking her so long. She’s already fifteen minutes late. I wanted her to get dressed in my cabin, but she’d insisted on going back to hers, something about surprising me. I hope she isn’t in there arguing with Robin.

Roxie let it slip that the two had been bickering the past few days…about me. Cadie’s roommate thinks I’m good only for sex and should be ditched the minute we hit dry land.

Cadie believes otherwise.

I’m relieved to know I’ve become more than a temporary research experiment. I am all for continued experimentation, but on a more permanent basis/relationship.

Placing the word
permanent
next to the word
relationship
, in the same sentence, is inconceivable. Or I should say,
was
inconceivable, because I’ve finally found a woman I want to continue seeing.

She’s already made it further past my one night rule than any woman since Lila. I keep waiting for my desire to wane, but it only increases. The more I’m with Cadie the more I want her.
Go fucking figure.
Now I just need to convince her that dealing with the press and naysayers will be worth the hassle, and later tonight, I plan to pull out all the weapons in my woo-a-woman arsenal.

She wasn’t the only one sending Omar on secret shopping trips. I’d made use of his skills too and just happen to have two gifts to show for his efforts. After a few obligatory dances, I intend to get her back to my suite and present them, along with all the reasons why she should stick with me.

As for sticking together, across the room, I spot Misty nose to nose with Marcus Rodriguez. From what I can see, they’re arguing. I’m not sure if I should be worried or not. They’ve spent considerable time with each other this week, and I figure it has something to do with their mutual frustration with me.

Misty goes stiff and stares to the left. Marcus follows her gaze, bringing up his camera. I turn to see what or who is important enough to interrupt their little disagreement and warrant a photograph.

I should have known.

There is no question who is hiding behind the colorful cat mask. Her radiant hair, mouthwatering curves, and the way she hesitates before moving into the room, tells me everything I need to know.

My girl has arrived, and she looks divine.

Robin follows behind her but doesn’t stop, instead sauntering over to where Roxie is surrounded by a cluster of appreciative guests. Cadie watches Robin for a minute before glancing away. It is evident from their lack of camaraderie my assessment of Cadie’s tardiness was correct. They’ve been fighting over me.
Just fucking great.