Off the Rails (12 page)

“But what? Are you too stupid to find the door?”

Enough was enough. Madison hopped off the chair and made a beeline for the exit.

“Wait, Madison—” Sandra’s husband called from behind, weaving through the tables to catch up with her. He reached her right before she ducked into the hall that led to the back door. “I’ll pay you three thousand dollars to sing at the reunion and—”

Madison had had enough of their train wreck. “What are you talking about?”

He flashed her a deal making grin. “I’m Sandra’s manager, and I make all the arrangements.”

“What did you
not
understand about what’s going on here? I’m not going to—”

Sandra had come rushing after him and was whispering furiously in his ear. Madison paused, annoyed at herself for being curious.

Mr. Sandra scowled, shook his wife away and turned back to Madison. “Two thousand bucks for five songs. Four before she goes on, one with. Sandra picks the duet. Forget the mini me bullshit. You in?”

Chapter Twelve

Downright Naughty

Two thousand dollars was a lot of money. Combine that amount of cash with the opportunity to show off and it was nearly impossible to pass up. That was why, after doing her own short opening set for the reunion crowd, Madison found herself standing backstage, waiting for their duet while Sandra sang. From a corner, she watched the singing superstar strategically position herself in front of the ridiculously oversized floral arrangements she called her set. The giant paper flowers, all in shades of pink and white, were about seven feet tall and resting in vases made of green papier mâché. There were three identical bouquets and Sandra was moving from one to the other, dramatically resting her palm on each before moving on.

The faces of the crowd were blurred by the intense stage lights but Madison already knew who was out there—everyone from five years ago. And Drew.

Tia appeared beside Madison, carrying two flutes of champagne. “You were really, really awesome and everyone knows it.”

Madison made a show of smoothing out her low-cut, lipstick red dress then patting her upswept hair. “Thanks.”

“You still have to do the duet, right?”

Madison stopped making a big deal of herself. “Yep, in about thirty minutes.”

Tia held out one of the flutes. “Here. This will make it more tolerable.”

Tia’s date appeared at her side and spoke. “She’s right. Y’all’s hot tonight.”

Ugh. Him.

Really. He should have had the courtesy to stay dead.

Tia had told Madison she’d wired her bumpkin money for bus fare, but still…seeing him there made him so…
real
. And worse than that, he reminded her of all the crap that she’d put herself through since that stupid invitation had shown up in her mail.

All for what? Where was the glittering ray of joy she’d been expecting to burst into her life when she impressed everyone with her amazing self? Where the fuck was her prize?

“You have to admit”—Tia lifted her own flute in a silent salute, and continued on with a fairly decent impression of her good ole boy’s accent—”he cleans up real nice.”

Madison gave the Tia’s roughneck pet boy the once-over. She was right. He looked good enough to eat. “What about—?”

“I made him promise not to talk to anyone but me—and you.” Smoothing out his blue silk shirt, she added, “Isn’t that right, darlin’?”

He nodded compliantly and took a sip of champagne. They stood like that for a few minutes, watching Sandra stroll around the stage to position herself in front of the preppy-girl-gone-wild arrangements.

“I saw Drew in the hallway.”

Madison ignored Tia, choosing to sip her bubbly instead, and fume silently over the fact that she didn’t feel the way she had expected to. Nothing had changed for her. Not really. She’d bought a gorgeous dress with her ill-gotten gains and shown everyone what an awesome singer she was, but the fact that she could sing her ass off was, while impressive, no big deal to them. Because, apparently, they’d already known. If only she’d known that they’d known.

“I asked around, he’s totally and completely single.”

And has two functioning legs, so if he wanted to find me all he’d have to do is walk around and look. I’m right here.

“He’s here by himself.”

Madison continued ignoring Tia while she faced some hard facts. It wasn’t the fault of the reunion witches that she’d made an ass out of herself trying to be somebody other than who she was. All in all, she was a semi-happy, unemployed singer-slash-actress waiting for a big break that would eventually come because she really did have talent. Her life was certainly nothing to hide from. Why
had
she been so stupid about the whole thing?

Tia cleared her throat in a not so pretty way. “I didn’t spend all this money and go through the hassle of bringing up my own playmate to watch you stand around and sulk all night.”

“I’m not sulking,” Madison replied, staring at the champagne bubbles zipping around in her glass. “I’m focusing. I still have one more song to do.”

“You’re working up to a major sulk. I can see it on your face.” Tia got that all-business tone in her voice. “You kicked ass on stage, and by now you’ve got to know you have nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.”

“I have another song.”

“In twenty-five minutes.” She gave Madison a shove toward the side hall. “Go do something now.”

After stumbling forward, Madison paused and spun, glancing back at Tia, who was cuddling up to her pet. Unless she wanted to end up witnessing someone else’s intimate moments—again—she only had one choice. She set her champagne flute on a table then she shoved her way through the back stage door and marched on. It was as easy as that because there he was right at the end of the hall, kicking a Pepsi machine with as much determination as she remembered him applying to those ridiculous all-school computation contests. All the insecurity of the past months spun together with the giddy memories of that one long Skype session and bubbled to the surface and somehow turned into an unruly, untamed lust.

“Keep it up and I’m going to call security,” she said as she moved toward him, her heels tapping against beige tile lining the back hall.

He gave the machine a final whack then stepped back, sliding his hands into the pockets of his dark brown suit pants. “Hey, Madison,” he said, looking her up and down. She felt every flick of his stare, and it was a hundred times more intense in person. Madison’s heart skittered, and her whole body had an out of control, crazy, electrified feeling. But if he’d felt the same for her, he wouldn’t have pushed her away by giving away the committee.

“Why the look?” he asked, his smile dropping as quickly as it started.

“The committee—”

“I know, great, huh?” He strode toward her, the movement of his hips drawing her gaze. “They’re still at that desk, passing out the tags and swag bags. Imagine that—being stuck there, saying hi to dozens of people we don’t want to really talk to, instead of”—he waved around the empty hall—”being here. Just us.”

Geez, she was stupid sometimes. “
That’
s why you gave the committee to them?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He shrugged, his thick shoulders looking just as awesome in the suit jacket as they had in the green T-shirt. Marching forward, still wanting to take her frustration out on him, she said, “Also, now that we’re face-to-face, I should to apologize for saying that rude crap to you at the Harvest dance.”

Confusion swam across his angular face. Clean shaven, she noticed. Smooth and probably warm to the touch. He shoved a few tumbled-down sun-bleached locks from his eyes and looked down at her, the corners of his mouth starting to twitch with a held-back smile.

“Hello!” She pulled up in front of him, noticing how up close his blue gaze was even more demanding, more intense and so damn sexy it was making her way too hot and jittery.

It was his turn to look at her lips. “What are you talking about? What rude shit?”

He was so close she could feel the heat of his body, smell the tang of his aftershave. And his voice… It was a hundred times sexier in person. How unfair that he could walk into her life after all these years and make her lose control all over again. “The Harvest dance? Our senior year?”

For a smart guy his face was really blank. “Um…”

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember.” Madison shoved him back, satisfied when his shoulders thumped against the wall. “How could you possibly not remember? I’ve been remembering that stupidity for over five years. It’s very,
very
rude of you to not remember.”

He blinked, his eyes gleaming from the glow of the Pepsi machine. “Tony Harwell and I drank a fifth that night. You can’t expect me to rem—”

She leaned into him, noticing how solid and warm his body was. And hard in all the right places. “You were drunk? You fuck. I can’t believe you were drunk when you asked me to dance.”

He shrugged, easily managing to move despite her constant pressure against him. “Yep. Sorry.”

Madison glared. He didn’t look at all sorry. In fact, his mouth was twitching again. Evidently he thought the whole thing was hilarious.

“It was the only way I could get the nerve to talk to you,” he replied, half-smiling at her snarling face. “You were pretty intimidating.”

“What do you mean
were
?” She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him to her. “Like I’m not now?”

“I’m not eighteen anymore,” he replied, his voice dropping to a husky growl as his eyes turned from the blue of an easy afternoon sky to the dark blue right before a storm. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, I noticed. But you’re not off the hook. You’re going to pay. Big time. More than once.”

The quirk on his mouth turned into an outright grin. “Is that right?”

Even though he was standing there, unmoving and pretending to be unaffected, she could feel his heart thumping in his chest, and his uneven breath coming in soft puffs across her face. Off in the distance, the first strains of Sandra’s song,
Gone
, started. That was Madison’s cue that the duet was up next. Drew didn’t seem to notice her shifting attention, he was so focused on her. She leaned back and loosened her grip on his lapels. “Yes. You are going to pay.”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged, straightening his shoulders to tower over her. “When? When exactly am I going to start paying?”

The song crept toward the halfway mark. Madison let go of him and started to walk backward down the hall. “Be ready,” she yelled, right before turning around and rushing toward the stage door. She made it backstage just in time. Sandra was positioned in front of the center bouquet, belting out the final line. The plan was, as soon as she lowered the mic, Madison was to step on stage. And so, there she stood as arranged, waiting for the mic drop, but so over the whole I-need-to-impress-everyone thing that she really wanted to walk out. Who cared about singing with super-famous Sandra Williams? That few minutes with Drew had been enough to get her heart thumping and put her lust drive in high gear. It was way past time to settle their unfinished business.

But a deal was a deal, so Madison was going to sing the song.

Hurry up and drop the mic, you annoying, arrogant ass.

The music fell away, leaving a space of silence for applause. The crowd clapped then the sound built into a low roar. The lights softened, casting a warm glow over the crowd. Sandra waited, holding the mic up and soaking in all the admiration as she slow-walked across the edge of the stage, gazing sanctimoniously down into the faces of her former classmates as though she were blessing them. After she’d gone back and forth twice, she nodded to the sound man and the first strains of the duet quieted the applause. The lights came back to center stage.

Madison felt a gentle shove on her ass. She spun around and came face to face with Mr. Sandra. “Go on. Stop waiting and go on out. She isn’t going to drop the mic.”

No kidding. But Madison was being paid for five songs, so she was going to do five songs whether Sandra dropped the mic or not.

She straightened her spine and stepped forward, moving slowly to the right side of the stage, the way they had arranged during rehearsal. Once positioned in front of one of the idiotic vases of flowers, she did her best to work her facial expression into
sexy but professional
and waited for her first verse. When she spotted Drew weaving his way through the crowd, his blue eyes focused on her as he moved toward the corner of the stage, the professional part vanished. She couldn’t stop herself from staring back at him, eye fucking him right there in front of everyone. It wasn’t until Sandra bumped her shoulder that Madison lifted her gaze, looked out into the crowd, realized she’d missed her start and began singing halfway through the first line of her verse. She made it through and Sandra joined her for the chorus.

Madison hated that her own smoky alto gave depth to Sandra’s warbling soprano, but they did sound great together. After they’d traded a couple of verses, Sandra cast Madison a quick, sly smile that made Madison’s stomach lurch. Still singing, the other woman made her way to the far corner of the stage. She stopped right in front of Drew and bent down low enough that her gigantic boobs nearly fell out of her black dress. Once Sandra had finished her verse, and it was Madison’s turn to sing, the superstar reached out and grabbed Drew’s elbow, lifting until his arm hovered over the edge of the stage, zombielike. Then she wrapped her fingers around his and led him to the steps on the side of the stage. Madison had to force the words of her verse up her throat as that bitch guided her man crush up the stairs then to the center of the stage, where she tucked herself against him. Drew moved into her embrace and wrapped his long arms around her waist.

Stinking bitch.

Was it time for Madison to finish what she started the other night at the club? That shirt-over-the-face hockey move was out because pulling that dress over her head probably wasn’t going to work. Grabbing fistfuls of those elaborate curls would be a good beginning though. Madison went so far as to take a step toward them, but then she saw the tight twitch in Drew’s jaw. And the stiff way his shoulders kept his torso from moving.