Revue (20 page)

My fingers waved delightfully over slippery, warm skin, his damp shoulder sticking to my cheek as I was worked like a puppet. My face was turned toward the side of the stage, pressed against his back, when Matt and Josh, dressed in board shorts, came into view.
Oh fuck! The show is ending with them all on stage.

Josh’s eyes flared to the extreme when he noticed it was me seated under Brad with my hands all over of him. Matt, too, caught on to the fact I was the selected puppet and turned to Josh, a look of dire warning on his face as they ascended the steps to the stage.

Oh my God it was all too much—the music, Brad on my lap and his hold of my hands, Josh’s fists clenching and releasing, and the screaming women banshees piercing my ears. I wanted off this stage and out of this hotel. I wanted my apartment, my room and my bed. I wanted Tom to burn his motorbike and never again have me take on one of his jobs. I wanted my hand not to slide down Brad’s abs and into his shorts and onto his …
Oh. My. Fucking. God!
  

Cock.

Warm.

Semi-hard.

Cockasaurus Rex.

It was under my fingers, so soft and smooth.

I yanked my hand out and rested it on his lap, balled into the tightest fist imaginable. What he’d just done had crossed the line regardless of whether I’d enjoyed it or not. Yeah, so it was a move they had women perform during their acts all the time, but he didn’t have to do that with me. He shouldn’t have. Yet he still chose to do it. And in front of Josh.
Oh God!

The song faded and Brad stood, stepping forward and taking a bow with the rest of the guys. You could’ve cut the tension on that stage with a spoon. Brad turned around and held his hand out to me. I stared at it. Wanted to stab it. But I had no choice, I had to take it and stand up to accept my applause. For what, I did not understand. All I’d done was let myself be manipulated.

Staring out into the darkened room—because I couldn’t see shit past the blinding stage lights—I smiled meekly and faux curtsied before attempting to flee. Problem with that was that Brad would not let go of my hand. In order to flee, you have to be free. I wasn’t. I was once again being held hostage by a self-centred, egotistical man-whore.

Thankfully, the tug of my wrist, moments later, indicated we were heading backstage. Backstage was the last place I wanted to go. In mere seconds the fallout was not going to be pretty, and the churning of my stomach was a good indication of that.

Josh exited through the black curtains first, followed by Matt, Lucas and Noah. Before Brad and I followed, he paused with his hand on the velvet fabric and turned to face me, eyes friendly and … appreciative. I couldn’t speak. I was too angry. I felt used and abused.

“Cori, don’t hate me,” he said, letting go of the curtain and touching my cheek. “I shouldn’t have done that last part, but fuck, you were awesome. That was the best act I’ve
ever
done! I’m not going to apologise for that. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You were perfect.”

What?
Standing there, dumbfounded, I couldn’t stop the small smile that spread across my face. He was just so happy and proud of himself. His vivid blue eyes were sparkling and it was just infectious. And truth be told, his act was incredible.

Gently moving his hand from my face, I sighed. “It was brilliant … until you crossed the line. If you
ever
make me touch you like that again, I’ll do more than touch, Brad—I’ll rip you to fucking shreds.” I gave his cheek a light peck and moved the curtain aside, stepping through only to be grabbed by strong arms, yanking me out of the doorway and holding me safely to the side.

It all happened so fast and scared the absolute hell out of me. My heart was pounding, eyes wide, hands grabbing at the arms securing me. And that’s when I realised what was happening. “Josh! No!” I screamed, as Brad stepped into the backstage area.

Josh was quick, slamming Brad into the wall, Brad not getting the chance to defend himself.

I fought with the arms wrapped tightly around my waist, turning back to find Lucas. “Let me go!”

“Not a chance in hell, Elmer. You’ll get hurt.”

I didn’t care. What was happening was all my fault. “Lucas. Please!”

“Don’t you dare let her go, Dimps,” Josh yelled.

I met his fierce stare. “Josh! Stop!”

“Shut the fuck up, sweetheart! You and I will have words after Brad talks to my fists.” He was rage incarnate and too strong to be held back by Matt alone. The problem was, there was no one else to help Matt. Noah was in the middle, trying to keep Brad from Josh, and Johnno was nowhere to be seen.

“This is stupid,” I cried. “Please, Josh, Brad … stop!”

Again, my pleas were ignored, so all I could do was stand there and watch as Josh and Brad went to blows while Matt and Noah got caught in the crossfire.
Stupid men. Stupid, stupid men.
Screw them. If they wanted to act like Neanderthals so be it. I never asked for this. This was all on them.

A punch here, a shove there, choice words a plenty. It was a heated flurry of muscled bodies until Johnno rounded the corner and broke it up. “What are you two stupid fuckers doing?” he asked, angrily. “I’m not risking my neck to stop the two of you breaking each other’s. So enough. Noah, take your dickhead brother to the change room. And you?” He pointed to Josh. “You’re coming with me.”

“Like fuck I am. I need to speak to Corinne.” Josh shrugged himself free from Matt and Johnno’s hold, staring the enormous, tattoo covered, bald security guard down.

“Corinne, you want to talk to this dipshit?” Johnno asked, not taking his eyes from Josh.

“Lucas, you can let me go now.” I huffed and wriggled from his grip before walking over to where the rest of them were standing, placing myself in between Brad and Josh. Brad had a busted lip and an eye that was fast turning purple. He needed ice. “Brad, you need to get ice on that, now. Go with Noah. I’ll find you in a minute.”

Noah reluctantly dragged Brad away, as I watched, helpless, and feeling as if a part of me had broken—I was the reason this was happening. I was the reason they were fighting.

Closing my eyes for the smallest of seconds, I opened them and breathed deeply, finding Matt. “I’m sorry,” I said, barely above a whisper. He touched my shoulder, indicating he didn’t blame me, but it didn’t matter. I was to blame. “You can leave him, guys,” I said to Matt and Johnno. “We need to sort this shit out once and for all.”

Johnno wandered off, muttering words that sounded like ‘stupid’ and ‘little’ and ‘wankers’, but Matt lingered for a second, staring at his feet before drilling Josh. “You fucking fix this, Bugs, you and Surfer. With or without Cori involved. This shit better be sorted by the time we perform the Gold Coast.”

Josh just huffed and wiped his lip, a drip of blood smearing across the back of his hand. It made me a little squeamish.

“Come on, Dimps.” Matt gestured for Lucas to follow him and they exited the area we were standing in, leaving both Josh and I in silence, staring at one another.

Seconds ticked by.
You stubborn prick.

“Matt was right, you know?” I said, breaking the silence.

“’Bout what.”

“’Bout you being a confused motherfucker.”

“That right?”

“Yeah, it is,” I said through gritted teeth. “You don’t know what it is you want. You jump about more than a grasshopper. One second you want a perky little groupie who will suck your cock all night long. No strings, just lips and a pussy. And the next you want me. Why? I don’t know. You never keep me long enough for me to find out why it is you want me and why it is you let me go.”

He slumped against the wall and slid down until his arse met the floor and his head fell into his hands. He looked utterly defeated, and it killed me. I went to take a step in his direction but paused when the two women he’d whispered to during his act tentatively rounded the corner.
That’ll be fucking right. Time and time again I let the walls fall down around me, only to just stand there, in the rumble, while he takes aim with his cold heart and deceitful words … and fucking reminders of why I should let him go once and for all.

“And if that isn’t confusing enough, after you’ve broken me … you want them.”

He looked up, confused, so I pointed at the waiting women, women he’d whispered to and promised a night of three-way fucking. “He’s all yours, ladies.”

I then turned and left the room to go and find Brad.

Head-fuckery. It’s a legitimate term. It also explains, quite aptly, what Brad and Josh were doing to me—sending me spiralling into fuckery of the head with their constant bullshit. Granted, I’d played a part where Josh was concerned. But with Brad … no, he’d pulled me into his drama all on his own. And he was about to cop an earful with respect to that.

“He in there?” I asked, stopping in front of Johnno who was standing outside the change room.

He nodded.

“Can I go in?”

He nodded again and opened the door for me, his expression passive.

It pissed me off, so I paused in the doorframe and turned to face him, eyes narrowed. “You think this is my fault?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“So why the this-is-your-fault look?”

“I’m not doing that.”

Lies.

I scoffed and went to walk in when he stopped me. “Look, Cori, they’re big boys. They can look after themselves. And they will. This will blow over in a few days. Men don’t let shit like this linger for long, okay? Don’t get too involved. You’ll only end up getting hurt.”

Taking in his kind words, I gave him a thankful smile, sighed then nodded. “Thanks.”

He winked, but then continued with an afterthought. “Oh, and Brad’s a delicate little flower, so be gentle.”

Laughter wracked body and I glanced back at him, his face as stoic as it could be when you’re a six-foot-four, tattooed man of steel, trying not to laugh.

“Will do,” I said, shaking my head and entering the room.

As I rounded the corner, I found Brad packing the last of his things into his bag. Noah was leaning against the wall, flicking through his phone, appearing to be waiting for Brad. They both looked up when I walked in, but Brad very quickly diverted his gaze to his brother. “You go. I’ll catch up later. Don’t think I’ll go back on the bus.”

“Suit yourself. But if I were you, I’d be taking it easy tonight.” Noah picked up his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder, giving me a chin-tip on his way out. I nodded and smiled, letting Noah know that I would keep an eye on him. If I had my way, Brad would be accompanying me back to the motel where we could both sleep off the night and wake up fresh for tomorrow.

***

Brad
did not
accompany me back to the motel. Brad
refused
to accompany me back to the motel. Instead, Brad was set to have a big night out on the town, despite my pleas for him not to. Brad also avoided my ear lashing because he was already drowning in contrition, and me laying in to him would not have done any good. So instead, Brad and I became friends with Mr Walker … Mr Johnny Walker.

“One more drink,” he said, holding up his pointer finger.

I’d agreed to one more drink the last five times he asked, and I was feeling rather tipsy. “Brad, no. We need to get back. The bus leaves early tomorrow.”

“Fuck the bus.”

“No, we need the bus. The bus is good. The bus gets us to places.” I gave the bartender a cut-of-the-throat motion to indicate we weren’t having any more drinks. He nodded.

“The bus smells,” Brad groaned, tipping back the last of his scotch.

“That’s because you sit next to Dimps.”

“Well, I’d sit next to you if fuckhead wasn’t always trying to hump your leg.”

I gave him a stern look. “Brad. Don’t even go there.”

He picked up his empty glass and frowned at it. “Sorry. I know you like him.”

“Liked,” I corrected.

Lies.

Yes, it was true, I still liked Josh despite the fact that he was currently the meat in a threesome sandwich. I practically dry-retched. Just the very thought of it made me feel ill—Josh being ridden while he licked another woman’s pussy.

“You gonna be sick?”

Turning toward Brad, I found him eyeing me nervously. “If I think of Josh and what’s he’s doing right now, then yes.”

“Then don’t think of him.” His voice was bordering sarcastic, but equally resolute.

“Easier said than done.”

I refocussed on my empty glass as Brad set his down and swivelled on his stool to face me. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“Liked,” I said again, correcting him for the second time.

“Like/liked, same thing.”

“No it’s not. One is present, one is past. One is current, one is over. One is—”

“Cori,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“You’re just hurt. He’s an arsehole. Always will be. And if he couldn’t keep it in his pants for you, then he never will.”

My head tilted to the side, and at first I thought it was because my body was deciding to go to sleep. But it wasn’t. I was just confused. “What does that mean …‘if he couldn’t keep it in his pants for me’?”

“It means he liked/likes you, too. He’s never given two fucks about any woman. Was happy to just pass them over when he was done.”

I practically dry-retched again.

He continued. “But with you … if any of us so much as look at you, he’s ready to go all Hulk on us. Bugs doesn’t do that. Bugs has never done that. So yeah, the dickhead likes you.”

Sliding off my seat to stand, I was angry and pissed off that I was
powerless,
that Josh made me
powerless
even when he wasn’t around.

“What am I supposed to do with that, Brad? You say this to me as if I mean something to him. Yet, right now, he’s fucking two random sluts.” Letting out my breath fast and harsh, I scanned the room. “I can’t do anything with that, but I can fuck some random slut myself.” Noticing the confusion on his face from out of the corner of my eye, I rectified it. “A man-slut, Brad.”

Even with a black eye, the fucker smirked.

I smirked back, spotting a good-looking, clean-cut man-slut. Clearing my throat, I brushed down my top and headed in his direction, my objective to go talk to him with an offer of no-strings sex. It was a no-brainer.

Brad caught my arm. “Fucking bullshit you are.”

“Hey! You can’t stop me. If I want to slut myself like Josh does, then I can. Who knows? It might make me feel better. Oh, I know … it might help me understand why he does it. Yes! That’s it!” I went to walk again, which was when Brad swept me into his arms. “What are you doing? Brad! Put me down. I want to fuck that nice man over there,” I yelled.

Said nice man looked up, eyebrows drawn. I waved at him. “I want to fuck you, but he won’t let me.” I pointed to the back of Brad’s head. “He’s mean.”

The nice man just nodded and waved back.

I pouted.

What a nice man.

Outside, I wriggled in Brad’s arms. “Okay, okay. You can put me down now.”

“You gonna stay put or try to go back inside and fuck that gay guy?”

My feet hit the ground. “What? He was gay?”

“Unless he likes to put his arm around men to stay upright, then yes, he was gay.”

I pouted.

What a nice gay man.

“Fine. Let’s go back to the motel. Maybe there’s a non-gay man-slut there.” We began walking toward the taxi rank, the smell of pending rain in the air. I loved that smell and the shower of water that followed. It was just one part of nature’s beautiful cycle.

A gust of wind blew some wayward leaves on the road into a whirl. It also drew out my goosebumps. I shivered rubbing my arms and hugging myself.

“There is,” Brad said, pulling me against his side and caressing my shoulder. It warmed me instantly. “He’s name is Noah.”

Laughing, I slid my hand underneath his jacket and rested it on his T-shirt-covered hip. “I’d rather fuck myself. No offence to your brother.”

“None taken. And yes, I’ve seen your tool of the trade. Nice colour, by the way.”

Halting my steps, realisation dawned on me.
Oh shit! He’s the one that moved my BOB.
“It was YOU!” I screeched.

“You left it out for me to see.”

“Oh my God! I did not. I left it out for me to see, not you.” Letting him go, I covered my face with my hands and shook my head, mortified. “I thought housekeeping had moved it, and that was bad enough.”

“No, it was me. I even sniffed it.”

My heart stopped beating, and I died … in Coffs Harbour … home of the Big Banana … and I hadn’t even seen it yet.

Such a shame.

Brad laughed and pulled me back to his side, waving at a taxi to pick us up. “I’m kidding. I would never do that.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” I asked, hugging him. He was so warm.

“Because you’re smart.”

Ugh! I’m over these men. These warm, smartarse, coconut-smelling men.

“Come on. Let’s get back to the motel before it pisses down.”

***

Five minutes later, we were sitting in the back of the taxi, peering out of the window at the torrential downpour. “You ready?” he asked, hand on the door handle, ready for the run of our life.

I nodded and smiled.

“You’re about to be drenched and you’re smiling?”

“Yes! I love the rain,” I hummed, grabbing the handle and wrenching the door open.

The rain hit me like a wet slap to the face. It then slapped me again and again, until I practically became one with it—me and the rain, the rain and me.

“Cori, what the fuck are you doing? Come on!” Brad yelled.

Squinting through the droplets splashing my head, nose and cheeks, I barely made out his silhouette a good ten metres away, standing under the cover of a walkway near the motel’s reception.

“Cori! Come on!”

I stopped and twirled, shouting back at him, “No! This is fantastic!”

“You’re insane.”

“I know!” I laughed like a hyena on crack as I skipped along the gravel, my Chucks sunken foot-boats, and my jeans a new layer of skin.

“How much did you drink?” he asked when I stopped next him. “It wasn’t as much as me. I know that.”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t enough. Let’s go drink more.” I grabbed his hand and walked to our room, stopping in my tracks when I reached the door, all colour draining out of me. “What if he’s in there fucking those two girls?” I said to Brad, eyes wide, petrified. “I can’t see that. I just can’t see
that.
”

“Wait here,” he said softly, moving me to the side of the door. “I’ll go check.”

I nodded and waited, all of a sudden feeling the cold of the rain, my chin trembling, and my hands rubbing my arms while I danced on the spot. I needed a hot shower and bed.

Waiting impatiently, the minutes ticking by, my dread heightened the discomfort I was already feeling, wondering why Brad was taking so long.
Is he telling them all to get their clothes on and to get the hell out? Does that mean Josh is really in there with those girls?

Unable to wait any longer, I pushed the door open, only to be met with Brad holding a towel. “All clear. He’s not here.”

“Oh th … th … thank God,” I sighed, accepting the towel and stepping inside.

I wrapped it around my shoulders, freezing, my teeth a symphony of chatters. I needed to get warm and dry, fast.

“Jesus, Cori, you’re turning blue.” Brad stopped drying his own hair, and instead, started towel-drying me. “You need to get these clothes off.”

“I c … c … can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Come on. Lift your arms up.”

I did as I was told, shaking like a leaf and raising my arms. Brad lifted my wet singlet top over my head, and I noticed him suck in a shallow breath as he took in my white lacy bra. I didn’t care though, because the moment that fluffy towel was wrapped around my shoulders, was the moment I sighed, warmth slowly finding my body again.

Brad found the buckle of my jeans and unlatched it before unzipping the zip and peeling the soaking wet denim down my thighs. “They’re stuck. You’re gonna either have to sit or lie down,” he said, his warm blessed hands lifting me like a doll and carrying me to the bed. I sat, placing my hands behind me for balance, and lifted my legs so that he could pull my jeans free.