Debauched (Undone Book 3) (28 page)

“Anything you’d like to tell us?” Jillian’s voice is ripe with amusement.

My boyfriend is an evil sexual torturer. I suspect you can relate, but can’t work up the courage to talk about it yet.
I shake my head. “Nope.”

“Are you sure?” Layla’s blue eyes search my face. She’s in tight jeans tonight and a black spaghetti-strapped halter-top.

“I’m sure.”

Chad doesn’t seem inclined to press me on the matter. Doesn’t seem interested in pushing me the way I’ve seen Michael and Leo push even though I know he’s got it in him.

Despite how far I’ve come, I don’t think I want that. I don’t want to have to ask for a drink, or to dance, or what to wear like I’ve seen Jillian and Layla do.

My mind drifts to getting ready. Chad did ask me to wear a skirt. But he asked. He didn’t demand. I complied. I bite my lip.

Layla’s expression twists in exasperation, and she huffs, but doesn’t say anything.

Jillian, dressed in an off-the-shoulder, black slouchy dress, presses her lips together.

They look at each other, and something seems to pass between them before their shoulders slump, and they shift their attention back to me.

“Okay,” Jillian says, the word light. “You know you can talk to us, right?”

“Of course.” A part of me wants to talk to both of them so badly, I just can’t figure out the right words to say.

“Are you sure?” Layla puts her hand on my arm. “You can tell us anything. You know that, right?”

“I know.” I shrug. “You know everything. I’m with Chad now, what more is there to say?”

A thousand things. Something niggles at the corners of my mind. Is he going to get bored soon? If I don’t give him what he needs, eventually he’ll have no choice but to walk away, won’t he?

“Are you happy?” Layla asks, then darts a glance at the men.

“Don’t I seem happy?” Is it not written all over me? I’m in love for the first time in my whole life. It consumes me. Isn’t it as obvious as it feels?

She smiles. “I’ve never seen you happier.”

Jillian grins at me. “Or hotter.”

I laugh. “So what are you worried about? You like Chad, remember?”

“I love him.” Layla tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, glares at I presume Michael, much the same way I glared at Chad before. “You normally tell me a lot more details.”

I do. And it’s not that I don’t want to spill, I just…can’t. I do my best to reassure her. “I guess because he’s an actual adult there’s not much drama.”

Only passion. Lust. And debauchery.

Jillian straightens and her expression turns innocent. “They’re coming this way.”

We all turn to look at them but I barely even notice Michael and Leo. Chad’s wearing jeans and a charcoal pullover that’s tight across his chest and broad shoulders.

I’ve been telling myself I think I’m in love with him but that’s a lie. I know I am.

For all my past infatuations with angsty rocker boys I’ve never actually said those words to anyone. I smile at Chad and his gaze roams down my body. I’m wearing a micro mini ripped denim skirt, a white tank that shows a strip of belly, and black, calf-high combat boots.

I look like me. But different somehow. Instead of feeling like I don’t match Chad I think we look exactly right. We’ve blended together somehow. Like I belong to him and him to me.

He sidles up to me, and puts his arm around my waist, his fingers playing along the strip of bare skin. “What are you girls up to?”

“Nothing.” We all say together and perfectly in sync.

Three sets of male eyes narrow.

“Layla?” Michael asks, resting a hand on her hip.

“Nothing.” She beams at him and he looks at her with grave suspicion.

Leo grins, putting an arm around Jillian’s shoulders, pulling her close to kiss her temple. “Are you going to tell us?”

I hold my breath, hoping they won’t give up that we were talking about Chad. I mean, sure I adore the guy, but I’m not about to give him that kind of ego stroke.

Jillian smacks a kiss on Leo’s lips. “Nope.”

He studies her face, looking for I’m not sure what, before he shrugs. “Fair enough.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

One band ends and they take their bows before the lights turn off.

Layla nudges me. “Is Gene next?”

“Yeah.”

A few minutes later the lights go on. The stage has a big screen the bands can project images onto and do cool light shows while they play. This is one of the places music execs come to check out the indie scene so the bar has great production for their shows. Gene and his band have been trying to get a gig here for over a year, so this is a huge night for him, and I’m super excited for him.

I love the music scene. With all its vibrancy and life. There’s nothing quite like music. It can help you transform, grieve, laugh. It can make you instantly recall a forgotten memory or fall in love. If I could find a career in music, I’d actually be excited about a career. But that’s not meant to be.

I’m a good enough singer, better than most probably, but I do that for fun—it's my hobby—I don’t have the talent or the relentless drive to sing professionally. I’m okay with that. I made peace with that a long time ago, and I don’t love it the way I should to be really successful.

The screen flickers and the album cover I designed flickers on the screen. I smile at the image. It came out pretty good in the end. It was worth all the fussing I’d done. It looked great and most important, Gene and the guys had loved it.

I sense Chad watching me and I turn my face up to his. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He peers at me. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“About what?”

He tilts his head. “About your stunning accomplishment sitting front and center for five hundred people to see?”

I laugh and wave a hand. “Don’t be silly. It’s not about me. It’s about the band.”

He blows out a breath and shakes his head then turns his attention to the group. “Did you guys know Ruby designed the cover?”

I flush, turning hot with embarrassment.

Layla’s expression widens. “Are you serious? Why didn’t you say anything?”

I shrug. “It was a favor. It hardly seemed worth the mention.”

I want to kill Chad but I don’t want to make a scene.

Layla turns back to the screen. “Some favor. It’s awesome.”

“It’s really good,” Jillian says, looking at it with a critical eye of the art dealer she’s becoming. “Do you do any digital art?”

I shake my head. “It’s not art. Sometimes I design covers or logos for bands I like since they don’t have a budget for anything.”

Layla lets out a little scream. “You did that for free?”

I roll my eyes at her. “Not everything has to be about capitalism, Layla.”

She waves a hand at Chad. “Would you please talk some sense into her?”

One brow raises and Chad turns his attention from me, to Layla. “Have you had this discussion before?”

Oh no.

Layla shrieks. “Yes! Although she’s been going behind my back on this stuff.”

“I am not,” I yell before throwing my hands in the air. “It’s no big deal. I did a favor for a friend. So what?”

Layla blows out a breath. “The big deal is you’re talented and you continue to let people take advantage of that talent.”

“I do not. Stop being dramatic.” I cross my arms over my chest and turn back to the stage. With gritted teeth I stare at the image, all my previous happiness about the results gone.

Chad grips my arm and looks down at me, a frown on his face. He turns to the rest of the group. “We’ll be back.”

Then he starts dragging me away. I glare at him. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t speak, just continues to walk in the direction of the front door until we’re outside. He leads me down the sidewalk until we reach a spot that isn’t littered with people. I jerk my arm away and point in the direction of the bar. “I don’t want to miss him play.”

“We have time before it starts.” His expression isn’t contrite or apologetic, it’s angry. What does he have to be angry about? “You’re upset. We need to talk it out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I don’t want to fight with him about something so trivial. I just want to forget it and go back inside and watch the band and have a good time.

He raises a brow. “Why are you upset?”

“You know why.”

“I want you to tell me anyway.”

I blow out a breath. “Can’t we have a good time? Why do you have to make this a thing?”

“We can have a good time after you tell me what upset you.”

I let out a short scream. “Why did you have to go and say something to them?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Because my girlfriend did something pretty fucking awesome and I want to brag about it.”

I shake my head. “Don’t put it that way.”

“How would you like me to put it?”

I put a hand on my chest. “Don’t make me the unreasonable one.”

“You
are
the unreasonable one.”

I huff and drag my hands through my hair. “I don’t get what the big deal is. So I made a stupid picture. So what?”

He raises his gaze to the sky as though he’s just too exasperated for words. “Right here is the big deal. Why do you do that, Ruby?”

“Do what?”

He looks down, pinches the bridge of his nose, and shakes his head. “You know what really pisses me off? I actually believe you have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“That’s because I don’t.” I blow out a breath. “Look I get that you and Layla care about me and that makes you want to be my cheerleader. I get it and I appreciate the support. But I promise you it’s not necessary. I don’t need a sticker that says good job. I don’t need a participation ribbon. I did the album because I thought it would be a fun, interesting challenge. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

He steps forward, and like lightning he grips my chin and jerks my head up to meet his gaze.

I blink. I’ve never seen him angry before.

“That’s what
you
don’t get, Ruby. I’m not saying it to pat you on the head like a good little girl.” He shakes me a little. “You’re so goddamn talented and you’re content to let it rot away because you’re too fucking scared to try.”

Defensive rage spikes in my blood, turning hot and jagged. “You saw one picture, Chad, don’t you think it’s a little premature to be talking about me like I’m some sort of genius. You don’t know anything about art or graphic design. Trust me, I’m nothing special. You’re making it into a huge deal and it’s not.”

He releases his hold on me. “Do you think I’m paying so little attention?”

I cross my arms protectively around myself. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you think I don’t notice what you’re working on when we’re sitting on the couch?” He narrows his gaze and leans forward. “Do you think I didn’t Google your name and see the other covers you’ve done. And those are only the ones you’ve gotten credit for, because I’m positive you didn’t insist your name be noted as the designer. I mean, why would you?”

He’s right. I never ask. It hardly seems important. I choose to focus on his violation. My hands clench into fists. “How dare you Google me.”

“I dare because I know how you are and you sure as hell wouldn’t show me. You’d blow me off and tell me it’s nothing. I got curious and I looked.”

“Well, so I did a few covers. Nobody cares about me, it’s about the band.”

“Sometimes I want to throttle you and your stubbornness.” He shakes his head and a muscle jumps in his jaw. “Let me ask you this. And if your answer is no, I will drop it. Deal?”

I’ve been with him long enough to sense a trap and the hairs on the back of my neck raise. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just a simple yes-or-no question.”

“Fine.” The word is a huff.

“Have you had people contact you because they’ve seen the work you’ve done for other bands?”

The implication sinks in and my gaze slides away. Besides Gene’s, the last three covers I did were because of other work. I shrug. “Yes.”

“So is it possible I might have a point?”

“Maybe, but so what?” I look at him, my heart beating fast. “I don’t understand why it matters.” Because I don’t. “What’s wrong with having a creative outlet? I like doing it. I want to do it.”

“Nothing is wrong with that.” He steps close and puts his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. “All I want is for you to glimpse your value and believe it’s worth something. I want you to see what I see. What Layla sees.”

I lean back. “And charging money will somehow prove that to you?”

“It’s not about that. Although you should be paid, because you put your whole fucking heart and soul into it, and deserve to be compensated for that effort.” He leans down and kisses me. “But acknowledging you did something pretty cool is a start.”

“I’ll try.”