Seductive Chaos (Bad Rep #3) (25 page)

“God, seriously? You’re still hung up on Cole?” Mitch spat out as though his name were a bad word.

“You don’t understand,” I responded unconvincingly. Garrett and Mitch both shook their heads as though I were the biggest idiot in the world. Gracie simply looked sad for me.

“Whatever,” I muttered, tired of talking about the crappy state of my love life.

Jordan came back to the bar, his face pinched and drawn.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Maysie asked, looping her arm around his waist.

“Well, nothing’s wrong, really. Moore just offered to pay us a shitload of money if we’d play tonight.”

Garrett sat up straight and Mitch put his beer down on the bar.

“How much is a shitload?” Mitch asked.

“Five hundred bucks,” Jordan said and we all gaped.

“Why so much?” Maysie asked.

“Because apparently the band that was supposed to play tonight backed out at last minute. He’s freaking out back there.” Jordan jerked his thumb in the direction of the middle aged, overweight manager, who was indeed wringing his hands and looking like he might pass out.

“Well, we can’t exactly call Cole,” Mitch snarled and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell them all to stop being so silly. To tell them to put on their big boy pants call Cole.

But before I could say anything, Maysie jumped in with a surprising suggestion.

“What about Paco? He’s an amazing singer. And he knows all of your songs.”

“Paco? The dishwasher?” Gracie asked, frowning.

Maysie nodded. “Yeah. I know it’s weird. But it’s five hundred bucks and given the way everything’s in limbo right now, you can’t turn down that kind of money. And it’s only one gig. And it’s Barton’s. Who will ever know?” she asked, and the guys started to nod.

“We’ll need to run back to the house and grab our gear. But yeah, I say let’s do it. I think we could all use this,” Garrett agreed.

I couldn’t believe that they were going to put someone else up on that stage with them and let him sing. I couldn’t understand their willingness to replace Cole so quickly.

Garrett must have seen the look on my face because he leaned in and lowered his voice.

“This is Cole’s choice, Viv. Don’t look at us like we’re the bad guys here,” he said and then he and Mitch were up and out the door. Off to get their equipment while Jordan went into the kitchen to talk to the dishwasher turned singer.

“I can’t believe you suggested that,” I told Maysie, feeling depressed by the whole thing.

Maysie shrugged. “Cole’s not coming back to the band, Viv. What else are they supposed to do? They’ve got to move on.”

“How do you know he’s not coming back?” I demanded.

“Because Garrett talked to him this morning. And they got into it. And it was left that Cole was looking into other opportunities. Generation Rejects is going to have to start looking for another singer.”

It annoyed me that Maysie didn’t seem bothered by it. That the fact that Cole, who had been with the band for years, was suddenly leaving and no one seemed upset by the news.

Was I the only one who couldn’t believe Cole would leave his band like that?

“That just doesn’t sound like Cole. Maybe Garrett misunderstood,” I suggested.

Maysie looked at me as though I were speaking tongues.

“I don’t think you know Cole as well as you think you do, Viv,” Maysie said shortly, clearly annoyed that I was defending the former lead singer at all.

Jordan came out of the back with a very excited looking Paco.

“Maysie, my love, thank you!” Paco tried to hug Maysie, who put her hands out stopping him with a laugh.

You needed to keep your distance from Paco. He was bit on the touchy feely side. The middle aged, paunchy, and balding dishwasher looked nothing like lead singer material. But he was enthusiastic; I’d give him that.

Moore and the other wait staff started to clear tables, making room for the amps. I had seen them do this a thousand times before. I had always loved watching the guys set up for a show.

There had always been an air of excitement when I knew Generation Rejects were going to play.

Not this time.

This time I felt like crying.

An hour later, the guys were plugged in and ready to go. The normal ring of Barton’s customers fanned out around them, seeming as confused as I had been to see Paco at the front, microphone in hand.

Jordan, before sitting down at his drum kit, took the mic from Paco and spoke into it.

“It’s awesome to be back at Barton’s!” He pumped his fist into the air and everyone cheered.

“We sure have missed you guys!”

Another round of cheering. Paco stood awkwardly off to the side. His Barton’s shirt grease stained and torn.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why Paco is up here with us tonight,” Jordan grinned, though from here I could see that it was strained.

He held his hand out to indicate the dishwasher. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard this guy sing, but he’s incredible. So we asked him to join us tonight.”

“Where’s Cole?” someone yelled out from the crowd. I saw Jordan, Mitch, and Garrett exchange glances.

Jordan cleared his throat and forced another smile.

“Well, there are going to be some changes with the line up of Generation Rejects. I’m not sure exactly what’s going to happen. But tonight, with Paco’s help, we’re gonna rock your faces off!” he yelled into the mic and the crowd, though hardly convinced, seemed to accept the excuse, for now.

Paco took the mic and screamed loud and shrill, making me flinch. The guys looked at each other again and the same look was on their face that had to have been on mine.

Oh shit.

But luckily for them, after Paco got over his nerves, he settled in. He was a pretty good rock singer and Maysie was right, he knew all the lyrics to the songs. And while the crowd wasn’t as energetic as they normally were, they seemed to be enjoying it enough.

I turned back to the bar to order myself another beer when I caught a movement outside the front window of the restaurant. I looked more closely and saw a recognizable shock of dark hair and the glint of light from a lip ring I knew all too well.

It was Cole.

He didn’t come inside. He stood out in the cold, looking in through the window, a pained expression on his face.

I didn’t move for the longest time. I could only watch him as he watched his band perform without him.

And then I was on my feet.

I pushed through the crowd and hurried outside just as Cole was turning to leave.

“Cole!” I called out.

He looked up and I was shocked to see the gleaming wetness in his eyes. I had never seen Cole cry. Ever. But right then, I knew he was about to.

This was a man whose heart was breaking.

And mine broke for him.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and started to walk past me. I reached out and grabbed his arm, my fingers digging through the worn leather of his jacket tightly. Not letting go.

“Don’t go,” I said, pleading with him. For what I didn’t know.

He shook his head, his hair falling into his face. Looking at him under the glow of Barton’s neon sign, he looked older than the last time I saw him. He looked haggard and tired.

“I can’t stay here, Viv. I just can’t.” His voice broke and his words twisted in anguish.

He was killing me.

This wasn’t a Cole I had ever seen before. And I didn’t know what to say or do. I was speechless.

“They’ve replaced me,” he said quietly.

I shook my head. “It’s just Paco-” I started but he cut me off.

“They don’t need me anymore.”

He bit down on his lip, his eyes trained to the ground.

“I thought that’s what I wanted. I thought I didn’t need them. I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. But now it’s too late.”

Then he looked up, his eyes meeting mine and they ripped a hole through my chest.

Slowly, he reached out, his ice-cold fingers softly touching my cheek. They lingered there as if he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m always too late. And now I’ve lost everything.”

And then he dropped his hand. I felt the absence of his touch instantly. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and walked away, his feet hurried as though he couldn’t get away fast enough.

A
fter Cole had left, I went back into Barton’s and didn’t mention a thing. I didn’t tell anyone that I had seen him.

I was unwilling to share with his friends or mine about my run-in with an obviously devastated Cole.

I’m always too late. And now I’ve lost everything.

The way he had touched my face and looked into my eyes unsettled me in the worst possible way.

I tried to convince myself that he was talking about his band when he uttered those cryptic words.

What else could he mean?

But from the way he gazed at me with such longing, it almost had me imagining those words were meant for me as well.

I was ridiculous.

Here I was, still holding onto the unrealistic hope that the man I had casually slept with for the past two years would wake up one day and realize I was the only one for him.

My romantic delusions would be my undoing.

The rest of Generation Rejects 2.0’s performance wasn’t half-bad. Paco did a decent job covering the songs we all knew and loved and eventually the crowd seemed to forgive him for not being the man we all wanted him to be.

When they were finished and the bar closed down, I didn’t feel up for sticking around for the after show drinks. I couldn’t laugh and joke around with my friends when I knew somewhere not far away, a certain someone was home alone and grieving the loss of something that meant so much to him.

I got into my car and headed home but somehow I ended up on a dead end street staring at Cole’s old clunker sitting in front of his rundown apartment building in the worst part of town.

My car idled in the middle of the road as I looked up at the second story window where a light was on and the curtains drawn.

Should I go up?

Should I call him?

And now I’ve lost everything.

His words were haunting me.

The look in his eyes was destroying me.

But I did the only thing anyone would do when they were desperately trying to protect their heart and soul.

I put my car into gear and drove home.

I slept like crap, spending most of the night tossing and turning in my bed. I woke up for work the next morning exhausted and angry with myself.

Why was I letting Cole get to me like this? Why was I letting him dominate my every thought?

So what! He had shown me a sliver of vulnerability! That didn’t mean that he had changed. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t still the same self-serving dick he had always been.

I couldn’t let three days with him back in town detonate my entire life. I needed to remember that self-respect was essential for the Vivian New World Order that I was instituting.

And self-respect did not mean crawling back to the man who had used me for years just because he seemed sad!

I was so focused on my internal pep talk I startled when I found Gracie awake, dressed, and making breakfast.

She too was all dolled up and looked ready to head to work.

“What’s with all the pretty?” I asked, indicating her outfit.

She looked down at her adorable skirt and button up shirt ensemble and shrugged.

“Interview.”

“Really?” I grinned and then I frowned, annoyed she hadn’t told me about this sooner.

Gracie hadn’t had an easy time of things since she had gone to rehab last year. The normally smart and focused girl with hopes of starting her own fashion magazine had settled on becoming a barista at the local coffee bar downtown

I knew she was disappointed in herself. She had been in the same journalism program as Riley in college. And now Riley was in grad school and working as a freelance reporter for a local newspaper.

Gracie had decided her aspirations needed to sidelined in place of getting herself together. And more power to her. That was where her head needed to be.

“Where?” I asked, getting out the bread and popping a slice into the toaster.

“Nothing major, just at the Southern Gardens magazine. They’re hiring a part-time columnist to write about festivals and events in the area.”

Well it wasn’t the New York Times, but it was a start. I gave her a huge smile and reached out to hug her. Gracie rolled her eyes and accepted my hug and I knew she was excited even if she was unsure whether she should be or not.

“You’ll nail it. I have no doubt,” I said with confidence. Gracie sipped on her tomato juice.

“I hope you’re right. I need to do something more than sling coffee before I lose my mind.”

We carried our breakfast into the living room and I turned on the news, as was my normal routine.

“So what did you think of the impromptu show last night?” Gracie asked, nibbling on her bagel.

“Honestly? I thought it sucked. Paco wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Generation Rejects we were watching. It’s sad that we may never see them play together again,” I noted a tad despondently.

Gracie nodded. “Yeah, I just can’t understand why they’re letting such petty crap get in the way of their dream. Guys are worse than girls sometimes.”