The Revolution (23 page)

With his fingertip, he raises my chin until I look into his eyes again. My knees weaken just by the sincerity I find there. He whispers, “Whatever you need, I’ll be. Just give me a chance to show you, to prove to you how much I care about you.”

A tear teeters on the edge of my bottom lid before falling, which reveals to him my true feelings. I push him away and leave the confines of his arms. I start to run, but I can’t, my traitorous feet remaining planted near him. I turn back and say, “Kaz, you can’t. You don’t understand—”

“I’m trying to, but you won’t tell me anything. I know he beat the shit out of you and for some reason you feel the need to stay with him. I don’t get why. Leave with me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Fuck, Lara.” He turns his back to me, his hand running over his head, agitated. “You make this so goddamn difficult.” When he faces me again, his frustration is heard. “Is he threatening you? This makes no sense. If you don’t want to be with me, just say so, but I can’t promise to leave you alone.”

My mouth remains empty of what I know I need to say. I bring my lower lip under my teeth and scrape. This was awful over the phone, but saying these words to him in person, where I can see his gorgeous face, is torture. “We’re done, Kaz.”

I repeat the lies—the heartless words—but there’s no passion in them, no truth to be found.

Thunderous applause from the ballroom fills the doorway when a woman enters the bathroom. Her eyes go wide, but then she smiles, recognizing Kaz instantly. “You just won.”

He glances to me. “Not even close, baby.” Then he rushes past her. I’m left unsure what to say, so I start to leave, but she practically swoons in front of me. “You’re so lucky you got to talk to him. He’s so hot.”

“Yes, he’s amazing.” I walk out and back to the ballroom, entering in time to see the band on stage accepting their award. I know he can’t see me from up there, but deep down, I wish he could. He would see the smile I save for him, the one only he can evoke.

When Mark’s large paw of a hand rests on my thigh, I’m glad Kaz can’t see me. He won’t have to bear witness to my weakness, my waning strength.

Sitting through the rest of the show, I barely touch my food. Mark doesn’t win the second award, and he’s been restless since. My mind starts to wonder what that means for me later. I peek at Kaz several times throughout the show, but make sure to look away before he sees me. The lights brighten the room and we get up to leave. Kaz is already long gone. Mark takes my hand and kisses the top. “You ready to go to the after-party?”

I’ve resolved not to bother with speaking to him. It’s pointless. My anger can’t be contained and I don’t want to make a scene in public. I tried that once and I was shown who is more powerful between us…

“You act like six months is six years, Mark. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t call me ridiculous.”

“Then stop acting like—” My arm is grabbed hard, jerking me to a standstill, and cutting off my words.

“Ow!”

I try to pull away, but his fingers tighten around my upper arm, and I’m yanked against him. “Shut your mouth,” he warns, his voice gruesome and terrifying.

The shock of it stiffens my body. Every red flag flies up, putting my muscles on alert.

Fight or flight?

He’s my boyfriend… was my boyfriend. He won’t hurt me. Until his nails dig into my skin. Then I reminded he will.

Fight or flight?

“Mark, please. Let go of me.”

“No. You won’t embarrass me like this.”

“I don’t love you. You can’t possibly love me when you can’t even be faithful to me.”

“I do. I love you.”

“If you love me, let me go.”

“I can’t. Don’t you see?” he asks, shaking me. “I need you.”

Fight or Flight?

Trying to remain calm, to not show weakness to this hulking figure of a man, I ask, “For what?”

“To love me.” Darkness is etched into the soul of his eyes, something I never noticed before. It’s not sadness. Disdain? Power? Desperation?

Fight or flight?

My gut knows. No good is going to come of this. He’s not the man I dated.

And I can’t trust him.

Fight!

Swinging with all my might, my hand goes for his face. He blocks my arm, grabs, and twists it behind my back. An excruciating pain heats my shoulder and I cry out, “Stop. Stop. Stop!”

“Will you stop?” He tightens, my shoulder feeling close to broken. Pain overpowers my thoughts.

From the corner of my eyes, I see them. Strangers in the distance, but close enough to see what is happening. And they do nothing. So I do what I have to. “Yes,” I reply through tears running down my face.

Fight!

As soon as I’m released, I kick him in the balls as hard as I can. Mark keels over and I run…

We begin walking up the aisle toward the ballroom doors. I’m pulled aside and in the dark of the corner near the exit, he asks, “Can you not muster any enthusiasm, Lara? Tonight has not exactly been torture. Do you know how many women would like to be you tonight?”

“I assume many by all of the whores who were willing to fuck you knowing you had a girlfriend.”

“You’re always so fucking sarcastic.” He gives up his energy on me. “And
had
?”

“Had,” I reply definitively.

“Try
have
. And I’m being nice. Can you be nice?”

“Nice? Why would I be nice to you?”

“Because I’ve asked one favor. We can plan the breakup for our next date, but give me tonight.”

“Are you psychotic? You do realize you forced me to come here tonight, right?”

“I didn’t force you. You freely got in the car. So when did I force you?”

“You beat me, Mark. When you accept that responsibility, I’ll be nice.” I walk past him and out the door to where our car is waiting.

He joins my side, and opens the back door. “Get in the fucking car.”

Every ounce of my sanity tells me to run, but I can’t. My feet feel like lead, heavy, making it impossible to move. I know the outcome. I’ve been here before. So I make a choice that I’ll be judged for later, but that saves me now.

I get in the car.

The after-party is at a popular restaurant nearby. We walk the shorter red carpet, smiling for the cameras, then I make my way toward the head of the line like I’m directed and give Mark his shining moment. A man with a clipboard hurries Mark along, announcing
The Resistance’s
arrival.

Perking up, I look past Mark just as he grabs my upper arm and squeezes. My eyes catch Kaz’s gaze locked on me and I watch it play out before I have a chance to react.

The rest is a blur of commotion.

Kaz closes the gap in a few long strides, his arm raising as he closes in on his target. One perfectly executed right hook lands squarely across Mark’s jaw, sending the giant to his ass and me wobbling. And the feeding frenzy begins.

The photographers raid the red carpet, encircling the two. Kaz is pumped, light on his feet, fists up in defense. “Motherfucker! If you ever come near her again, I will kill you.”

I was already running, but I’m grabbed by a security guard and held back. “No, Kaz. No! Don’t.”

Struggling to break free, I bear witness to the horror before me. Mark is on his feet and lands a straight hit to Kaz, and I scream, “No, Mark! Please. Don’t hurt him.”

Kaz is swinging again, but is grabbed, each arm restrained. Johnny and Dex pull Kaz back. Mark with his huge ego smiles as if he’s won. Blood covers his teeth and he laughs, but a fist to the face stops him cold.

“Don’t fuck with my friends!” Derrick stands proud to have ended the fight.

Security takes hold of Mark, trying their best to hold him back.

Kaz’s arms are behind him as he lunges forward, fighting through what must be pain from the expression on his face. But is he in pain from the guys or because of me? He shouts, “I will hurt you five times worse than you hurt her, asshole.” His eyes remain focused on Mark as he struggles to get free, adrenaline coursing through him. “Let me go. You don’t know what he’s done.”

Bodyguards surround the band members, but Kaz still fights for his freedom. Chaos surrounds us. Johnny’s yelling for Kaz to stop and walk away. Derrick is fully invested in the fight. Dex is working with the bodyguards to pull Kaz from the scene. Paparazzi engulf us, making it hard to move anywhere.

Their security detail gets them to safety at the beginning of the carpet and whisks them to their black SUVs. A strong hand embraces my arm, guiding me through the cameras. Tommy is in front of me, protecting my space while we walk. “Get in the car. We need to get you out of here.” The door to one of the vehicles is opened and he lifts me up to the running-board.

“Lara!” Mark’s voice booms from behind me, rattling my insides, but I don’t look back.

My world lights up when I see Kaz inside the car. His fists hit the seat and he yells, “Fuck!”

Tommy gets in behind me as I slide across the leather and cling to Kaz. “Oh my God, Kaz! Are you okay?”

The Suburban starts moving. Kaz’s arms come around me, his breath heavy in his chest under my cheek. When I look up, he says, “That’s what I should have done the other night. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“No. No. You don’t need to do this for me. I’m not worth the trouble.”

“He hurt you.”

Tommy sits next to me and leans forward to stare at Kaz. “What the fuck? You realize you just attacked Mark Renner,
the
Mark Renner, in front of fifty journalists?”

“Paparazzi aren’t journalists,” Kaz says sarcastically.

“You know what I mean.” Tommy shakes his head. “I don’t understand what just went through your head.”

Kaz warns, “Tommy, stop.”

“He’s a fucking major league baseball player. You play guitar for a living.” He glances down at Kaz’s hands, which causes me to do the same.
Oh no.

His knuckles are bloodied, the skin ripped apart across the top. I shield them from view, careful not to hurt him more by touching them. “I’ll take care of you when we get home.” The word home rolls off my tongue so naturally with him.

Kaz directs his eyes back to Tommy. “I have my reasons.” Then he takes my hand and brings it to his lips and kisses.

“Leave it to a woman,” Tommy says with an eye-roll. “This is a PR fucking nightmare.” Tommy leans away from us, his arm against the window.

“I’ll take the heat, Tommy. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the band isn’t dragged into this mess.”

He sits up abruptly, anger getting the better of him. “Too late, Kaz. What were you thinking?”

I remain quiet, the side effects of my actions sinking in. “I left him.”

“Good,” Kaz adds.

“You don’t understand. I left him.
I
left
him
. In front of the press.”

My hand starts shaking. Kaz now covers mine with his and gently squeezes. “It will be okay. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to take care of me. I want to take care of myself.” The rage in Mark’s voice. I feel sick hearing him call my name over and over on a loop in my mind. Grabbing my head, I close my eyes. “What have I done?” I turn to Tommy as desperation sets in. “I need to go home. Please take me home.”

“Lara—” Kaz starts but I whip to my other side to face him and beg. I’m not above it for him. “Please. Please, Kaz. You have to take me home.”

After a long hard look at me, he doesn’t argue. He turns to the driver and gives him my address. The next fifteen minutes of listening to Tommy tap away on his phone are painful. The lack of a kind touch, the absence of his comforting words, the tension that never existed before wedges between us like a tangible emotion, hurts—my heart, my head, and my soul. I feel the wound caused by Mark’s scheme gaping open.
I know what he is going to do next.
My blood runs cold from the thought of the violation I will endure. No one wants what was sanctioned in the bedroom thrust into the limelight for all to see. And of course, there is no way I can be with Kaz. Any way I look at it, there’s no winner in this nasty game.

Only pain.

The car stops and Tommy’s door swings open. He gets out first and as I’m maneuvering to exit, Kaz catches me. “Tell me,” he says, coming to terms with our situation. “Tell me why you can’t be with me. Give me something, Lara, I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

“Kaz,” I start, feeling horrible, the door that leads to my heart already closing. I can dance around the truth all I want but that’s not going to fix this mess. It’s not going to heal his heart. Not when I have to put distance between us now more than ever. Mark will seek his revenge. I just need him to take it out on me and not Kaz. “Please understand this is for the best.” I lean back over and kiss him. Surprisingly he lets me and kisses me back. My mind swirls with all the feelings he evokes, sensations I want to grab hold of and keep. But I know to keep him safe I must give him up. I reach up and move the hair that’s fallen over his eyes to the side and kiss him gently on the cheek. I don’t know what possesses me, or what inspires me, but with my lips lingering on his skin, I don’t say goodbye. “Live a great story. And share it. Share it through your music, your lyrics, your notes.” Turning away, I slip my feet to the ground, landing solidly on my high heels. I glance back just long enough to see his eyes, to see something wild blooming inside… wild with possibility.