Blur (Changing Colors Book 2) (36 page)

“I care about you a lot too.” Her voice is a whisper, barely heard over my brother’s booming laughter.

I pat her thigh. “We good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“I’ll just consider you’re lashing out as my form of payback for throwing you over my shoulder and spanking your cute arse in Missouri.”

She lets out a quiet laugh. “I think I’ll be the judge of what constitutes payback, Bissette.”

“But what about that bit about me being a good guy? Don’t good guys deserve a break now and again?”

She shakes her head, smirking. “That’s a different scenario.” Brooke stands up, turning for the door. “Oh, by the way, I need your email address.”

I tilt my head in confusion. “My email address?”

“Uh huh.”

“What do you need that for? Why not just use the email accounts the label set up for us?”

“Because the marketing guys want everyone’s
personal
email addresses.”

My brow furrows.

“Just give me the damn email address, Dylan. Or else I’ll be forced to make one up for you. I can be quite creative when I want to,” she sing-songs the last bit.

Pulling out my phone, I text her. The last thing I need are the female fans milling about the backstage area sending tit pics to my email account—one that was established under my family’s winery. Although, my father and Jesse would probably get a thrill from it, my mum would not. She has access to everyone’s accounts.

I wave my phone in her direction. “I just sent it to you.”

“Thanks,” she says, showcasing a secret grin.

I stand up, walking towards her. “You’re up to something, aren’t you? Should I prepare myself for your version of payback?”

“Why, Dylan Bissette, do you not trust me?” she asks, acting affronted.

“I do recall someone saying ‘paybacks are a bitch’…and considering we were just talking about them, I’d say I’m a little skeptical of your plans.”

She lets out an exaggerated gasp, hand going to her chest. “Are you accusing me of secretly fucking with you? Sweet, kind, little ol’ me?”

I raise a brow. “Yes, I definitely am, love.”

“Dylana get your arse over here and take your shot!” Jesse shouts.

Smirking at Brooke, I extend the invitation, “Care to join us for a little pre-show ritual?”

With a hand on her hip, she sassily responds, “If it includes me taking off my top and flashing my tits, count me out, Bissette.”

“Love, I can guarantee if anyone in this room sees you without your top on, I’ll be the biggest version of caveman you’ve ever seen,” I growl into her ear.

She pinches my cheek, smirking like a little minx. “First you stand up for me in front of Alistair, and now you’re promising to go caveman on behalf of my breasts? You’re such a gentleman.”

“I’m a good guy, remember?” I laugh, swatting her hand away. “C’mon, sassy, time to take some shots.” Gripping Brooke’s shoulders, I lead her towards the table where the liquor is flowing and shot-taking has commenced.

With security encouraging the fans to stand off to the side, the five of us ‘cheers’ and down a shot of Patron. The bitter aftertaste stings Brooke, her face scrunching up in discomfort. “Ugh, you guys are going to kill me,” she mutters. “What about the limes and salt? That’s a necessity when downing tequila.”

“We save the licking and sucking for the Lemon Drops,” Jesse retorts, wagging his eyebrows.

“What about licking and sucking?” A female voice calls behind us.

Brooke turns towards the door, a giant smile consuming her face. Next thing I know, she’s barreling straight into Lindsay. They hug each other fiercely, and then proceed to jump up and down excitedly, falling into a fit of girlish giggles.

Brooke shoves her, still smiling. “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting here before the show, you bitch?”

Lindsay laughs, hugging Brooke again. “Because I wanted to surprise my best girl. You look fab by the way.”

She’s right. Brooke looks fantastic. Blood red lips. Short blonde curls showcased in my favorite brand of messy disarray. Long legs showcased beneath tight leather pants. Sexy black heels cover her feet. And her look is finished off with a
Suck It and See
Arctic Monkey’s concert tank.

She’s a pixie dressed like a rocker ready to take the stage.

The woman is taunting my sanity tonight.

Jesse walks over to the girls who are still laughing and chatting, catching up on everything they’ve missed. “Sorry to break up the love fest, which was bloody beautiful by the way, but I need this woman right here for a moment.” And with that, he picks Lindsay up, tossing her over his shoulder.

She giggles in response. “Missed me that much, Cockelgänger?”

Jesse pinches her ass, and she laughs harder. “You have no idea, Monroe. You have no fucking idea.” Once they reach the table, he sets her back on her feet, eyeing her with amusement. “And don’t worry, we’re going to have a chat later about the nickname. A real heart-to-heart, love, where I remind you why no one compares to the mind-blowing glory that is me.”

She smirks, gripping his shirt and pulling him close to her mouth. “I’m holding you to that, drummer boy.”

“I don’t see any boys, sweetheart.”

Lindsay presses her mouth to his. “I guess that’s another thing you’ll have to prove then.”

“All right, enough of the make out shit,” Brooke chimes in. “You guys have about two minutes before you go on stage. Let the licking and sucking commence.”

“That’s what she said,” Alex teases.

Zach hands us each a shot, sugar across the rim of the glass and a lemon resting on the edge. “Who’s toasting?”

Jesse scowls, holding his glass up. “Wait…what’s this sugar and lemon crap? This isn’t how we do it.”

Lindsay puts a hand on her hip, eyebrow raised. “What? You guys lick the sugar off each other? If that’s the case, let me get my phone out. I need a video of this precious moment.”

My brother tsks under his breath. He grabs her wrist, stopping Lindsay in her tracks. “Nuh uh, sweetheart. No videos. And no fucking way I’m licking anything off of these gits. But you, my dear, I’ll lick
a lot of things
off
a lot of places
.”

“Then put your money where your mouth is, dickhead,” Lindsay challenges.

Brooke steps between them. “Nope. Not happening. No one in this room wants to see you two tongue fuck each other. Take your shots as is, assholes. Now, who’s toasting?”

I can’t help but laugh at the feisty sashay of her hips and adorable hand movements accompanying her refusal.

“I got this.” Alex raises his glass. “First, it should be noted I love Brooke for stopping these two before they started screwing on the table. I’ve seen Jesse work the drums, and no bloody way that thing could last under such jackhammer-like brutality.”

Lindsay cracks up.

Jesse flips him off.

Brooke giggles, raising her glass. “I love you too, Alex.”

“Here’s to beautiful women and a brilliant show. Drink up, lovely ladies…” He nods towards Brooke and Lindsay. “And cunts,” Alex toasts, smirking at the rest of us.

“Cheers,” I say, raising my glass. I forgo the sugar and down it.

Everyone else does the same, using the lemons as chasers.

A stagehand peeks in, gesturing with his clipboard. “Showtime, boys. Crowd’s ready.”

Brooke leans towards me, lips close to my ear. “I’ll have you know, your accusations are one-hundred-percent correct. I’m definitely going to fuck with you. And you can bet your sweet
arse
I’m going to enjoy every perfect minute of it.”

Bloody diabolical woman.
I stare down at her, equal parts amused and turned on. Which isn’t really saying much. Pretty sure my cock perks up whenever the word fuck comes out of Brooke’s lush mouth. “I love it when you talk about my sweet arse, love. Makes me feel special.” I waggle my eyebrows, pulling a small laugh from her. “Don’t I at least get a hint?”

“One word, Bissette.
Instagram.
Now, that’s all I’m giving you. Have a great show.” And with that, she pulls Lindsay off of my brother and sashays that pert ass out of the room.

Instagram? What in the sodding fuck is she talking about?

Brooke

I snap a picture of Dylan in all of his rock star glory, uploading it to his Instagram
account. That’s right,
his
account. Introducing the hipster to the wonderful world of social media is the very best form of payback. I add the hashtags #CarelessCockupsTour2015 #HelloNewYork and #LiveAtTheBowery, tagging the Bowery in the post.

In a matter of an hour, he has over fifty thousand follows. Which is insane, considering he didn’t even start the account. If this is a prediction of what’s to come, I’d say his celebrity status will sky rocket from here. The band’s VEVO account is getting more popular by the second. Every time a new video is uploaded, fans flock to their page, flooding the threads with comments. And now that Mad Sounds has a few episodes under its belt, Careless Cockups is starting to become a household name in the States. Their arrival to the Bowery brought this point home. Fans lined up at the backstage entrance of venue, desperate for autographs and pictures.

Some of those fans even asked
me
for an autograph. It’s overwhelming, to the say least. I’m starting to feel like I’m living someone else’s life.

Despite the building fame and chaotic start to the evening, the guys are still focused and kicking ass on stage. They’re rolling through their set list, executing every song to perfection. Dylan’s voice is
on fleek.
Lindsay’s words, not mine
.
My best friend needs to stop utilizing Urban Dictionary. For the Urban Dictionary virgins out there, think of Webster’s Dictionary, and then picture what Webster’s would look like if a drunk college girl wrote it.

But Lindsay is right. Dylan is flawless. His soulful rasp and heady talent are hypnotizing everyone within ear’s reach. The crowd is wrapped around his finger. Hell, I can relate, I’m hanging on his every word. My eyes solely focused on his magnetizing presence.

He’s the picture of a rock star. Clad in black boots, worn-in jeans, and one of my favorite vintage Beastie Boys t-shirts—it’s a black and white pic of the band, highlighted by Adam Horovitz holding a boombox. The colorful tats down his arms are magnified under the stage lights. And Dylan’s dirty-blonde hair is messy, pieces keep falling into his eyes.

Lindsay and I are sitting in the front row. Three songs in and two beers down, we’re channeling our inner fan girls, singing our hearts out and screaming like banshees.

The dry and scratchy feeling every time I take a sip of beer is proof I’m thoroughly wearing out my voice. But I couldn’t care less; I’m having too much fun. It’s been months since Lindsay and I have had the chance to hang out. Alcohol is flowing, the crowd is enthusiastic, and we’re having a blast watching Careless Cockups rock out.

It’s safe to say we’re on the path to let loose tonight.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s a text from Jamie.

‘How’s the show going?’

‘Unreal. They’re killing it.’

‘I heard about the overzealous fans waiting outside the Bowery.

We’ve already arranged for more security for the rest of the tour.’

‘Thank God. It was insanity. I thought The Beatles were making an appearance.’

‘Nope, it’s not The Beatles. It’s just the band you’re helping skyrocket to fame.’

‘Don’t be crazy. This has nothing to do with me.’

‘You’re producing their album. You’re a bigger part of this than you even realize.’

‘Whatever.’

‘There’s the Brooke I know and love.’

‘I’m totally flipping you off right now.’

‘That’s crude, baby girl. So, I just wanted to give you a heads up…

Alistair is on quite the warpath after seeing an episode of Mad Sounds.

He’s convinced you’re leaving me for a rock star.’

I struggle to breath as I attempt to type out a response. But my fingers just hover over the keypad. What can I even respond to that?
No, Jamie, I’m not leaving you for a rock star, but while we’re on the subject, I should probably mention I’ve been hiding my secret relationship with said rock star from you since I left for Paris.

‘It’s okay. I’m not upset. I know how reality shows work, baby girl.

They’ll do anything to twist a situation and make it seem more than it is.’

Great. Now, I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. I message back,
‘I’m sorry,’
because I am. I’m really sorry about a million different things.

‘I’m not mad. But I wanted to let you know, Alistair is planning on showing up unannounced to one of the shows.

So don’t be surprised when his ugly mug makes an appearance.’

‘Is now the right time to tell you he showed up in New Orleans?’

‘WHAT?’

‘Yeah, he showed up at the studio.’

‘When Nigel convinced you to add your vocals to Blur?’

‘Yes’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I don’t know. I was still trying to process it.

Maybe it’s the same reason you didn’t tell about lunch with Camille?’

‘I guess we both have something to apologize for…’

‘Yeah, I guess we do. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Alistair.’