Suddenly Dirty (3 page)

Turning on her heel she picks up her clothes scattered around the room, muttering in Spanish while getting dressed; her ice blue eyes lit with fire. “You’re a sorry excuse for a man, Evan Wyld. You should be ashamed of yourself, using women as if they are your personal fuck toys.”

Says the woman who just fucked me for a great story to tell her friends, or maybe even sell it to the highest bidder if she’s lucky.

“I faked my orgasm, you weren’t that good.” She hisses at me.

“That makes two of us darlin’.”

Flipping me off, she slams the door shut.

Fuck, I’m too old for this shit, I grumble as I slump into the couch hanging my head in my hands. That’s my life; travelling around the world, only seeing the inside of hotel rooms, paparazzi intruding on every moment of my day, and a series of one-night stands with women who couldn’t give a fuck about me. I can’t take a damn shit without it being headline news. We are on our second last tour and I can’t fucking wait for it to be over! Then on to bigger and better things.

***

“What the hell is this?” Vanessa, our PR manager yells at us, pointing to the online gossip site blinking on her tablet.

She’s called us together into the hotel suites living room like a bunch of naughty boys called before the principal. Most of us looking bleary eyed after last night’s partying.

“How many fucking times do I tell you boys to be vigilant of your surroundings?”

Her Australian accent coming out when she swears. Usually her accent is a mash-up of American, English and Australian. But when she gets angry, she sounds like the crocodile hunter; it makes me laugh, which of course is always at the wrong times.

Vanessa is hot, and by hot I mean smoking. Nearly six feet in heels, her legs travel on for miles. No, I have not fucked her, nor would I. She scares the shit out of me. Her caramel hair is pulled up into a ponytail, sun-kissed skin hidden behind the long sleeves of her dress, her sea green eyes shooting fire at us for our latest fuck up.

“Queen V, I’m sorry but how was I supposed to know that there would be cameras in the VIP section of the club. It’s the VIP section; don’t we get special treatment partying there?” Christian argues, raking his hand through shaggy brown hair hanging loosely in front of his face.

“You shouldn’t be having your dick sucked in the middle of a club, Christian. Save that shit for a hotel room or, at least, a damn bathroom.”

He just shrugs. “If you helped a brother out once and awhile, I wouldn’t have to find groupies to do it. Which means … I wouldn’t get myself into trouble, and you wouldn’t be yelling at us. See V, it’s a win-win.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes at him.

Christian is always joking about trying to get into her panties, which is sexual harassment seeing as we all work together, but she takes it all in her stride. He’s her best friend. It’s weird because Christian doesn’t have female friends, he has booty calls on speed dial, but for some reasons it works, well, at least, I think it does. A couple of years ago Vanessa moved in with him after her douchebag of an ex decided to use her as a punching bag. They have been tight ever since. Not sure if anything has happened between them as Christian has never said a word, so I guess not because he has the biggest mouth when it comes to his conquests. In my head I think all the fighting they do at work is some intense foreplay then they go home and fuck each other’s brains out.

“Seriously Christian, I’m surprised your dick hasn’t fallen off from any diseases. It’s a fucking miracle”. Vanessa bites back. “Just because you’re Dirty Texas, doesn’t mean you can keep getting away with this shit.”

She’s right; we are grown ass men still acting like horny fucking frat boys. But when a girl wants to suck your dick in the middle of the club, then you can’t knock back that perfect gift from the gods. Never a good sign when Vanessa starts pacing. We are in so much trouble.

“Do you guys realize how much work it takes looking after you?”

We stay silent because I am sure she doesn’t want us to answer that question.

“Cleaning up the same shit? Repeating it over and over?”

I notice her eyes are glassy. Shit, is she about to cry? Fuck, I feel like a bastard, Vanessa looks disappointed in us … with her serious mom face.

“You’re not twenty-year-olds anymore. You can’t keep doing this immature shit; people are getting sick of it, namely me.”

She’s right. We’ve been doing this for so long; we think it’s normal.

“V, are you okay?” Axel asks. He is the complete opposite to his twin, Christian. Christian is loud, crazy, and goofy whereas Axel is quiet, intense, and brooding. The typical creative genius. As the lead singer of the band, he has taken on the role as the unofficial leader of the group, one that he relishes. He has a good head for business and hasn’t steered us wrong with our decisions over the years.

I notice a couple of tears escape and slide down Vanessa’s face, she looks embarrassed, mumbling something about men and running out of the room. Fuck! Did we just break Vanessa?

Beep. Beep. Beep

My phone keeps alerting me to incoming messages. Go away, leave me alone, don’t you understand my life has imploded.

Beep. Beep.

Fuck men, those fucking cheating bastards and their snarky ass mistresses.

Beep. Beep.

Fuck my life.

Beep. Beep.

Just fuck it.

Throwing my phone against the wall hoping it would stop, I watch as it bounces off the cream wall hitting the floor with a thud. I need to pee and clean my teeth. Looking into the bathroom mirror my face is pale, my green eyes are bloodshot. I look like shit. I’m not even sure how I made it back to bed after my breakdown beside the toilet last night.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Leave me alone.” I grumble out loud.

More messages, my stomach rolls thinking about them. Leave me alone! Picking the stupid thing off the ground, I see Beau’s name. I drop to the bed flicking through the million messages from concerned people. Some from my parents, I’m just glad they left early and didn’t have to see their daughter publicly humiliated. They must be so worried. I don’t know what to say to them; I’ll worry about them later.

There’s a couple from Stacey, my assistant, telling me she has cancelled my media appointments. Once a week I work with a morning show, being their on-air fashion commentator and stylist. I don’t think I could face walking onto that stage and smiling to the millions that watch the show; pimping out some outfit, knowing they have probably read the gossip mags about my marriage. Stacey has also issued a press release advising no comment on last night’s events. I think I need to give her a bonus for coordinating this mess for me.

I have tons of messages from Vanessa, one of my oldest friends. Actually more like my sister. Our parents are best friends and business partners and we have known each other since birth. She’s currently traveling through America as PR manager for Dirty Texas. Dirty fucking Texas; the biggest and hottest band on the planet. You can’t turn on the radio without one of their songs playing in the Top 40. I miss her so much. Wish she was here with me now. We could curse out Beau, get drunk, cry and eat tubs full of choc-chip cookie dough ice cream to make me feel better.

Another message from Beau lights up my screen asking if I am okay?

What do you think dickhead, I am sitting here celebrating the fact my husband is a cheating scumbag? I take a deep breath and shoot him a text.

Sienna: I’m at Derricks. I’m staying here for a while.

A message comes back immediately.

Beau: Sisi, I’m sorry, please come home. I can go somewhere else.

Anger fills me.

Sienna: I’m sure Diana would be delighted. You can now live the life you were supposed to have. Isn’t that what she said?

Was I the poor substitute for Diana all these years? His family made it clear she was always who he was supposed to marry. Her photo haunted me every time I visited my in-laws home. Pictures from Beau’s high school formal taking pride and place beside their wedding photo. There was none of Beau and me together anywhere. It’s not my fault they broke up after high school and she moved to Europe. Wasn’t my fault I met Beau at University, or even the fact that he asked me out – was not my fault. Again wasn’t my fault six months later when he whisked me away to Las Vegas and married me when I turned 21.

The little bubbles hovered for a while; I guess he’s choosing the right words.

Beau: I never meant for this to happen. I was faithful to you all those years, she’s the first. I don’t know how this happened.

It’s simple Beau; your dick went into her vagina.

Sienna: Do you love her?

The waiting for his answer was killing me.

Beau: It’s complicated.

What the fuck kind of answer is that. Nothing complicated about it at all. You love her so that’s why you cheated on me.

Sienna: Why her? You could have been with anyone else. I may even have forgiven you for it, but her. Why did you choose her? Why?

Beau: It just happened.

Right there … my heart broke. I would have felt better if he had said she was the love of his life. We had a healthy sex life; I was a good wife, we were both busy with our careers but we never neglected each other. I don’t understand!

Sienna: Was I a horrible wife? Did I do something wrong? I don’t get it, I thought we were happy?

My hands shaking as I typed the message out.

Beau: No Sisi, you were perfect, you are perfect. I’m the one that messed up and I am the one that has to deal with the consequences.

Damn right he does.

Sienna: I can’t forgive you over this. I want a divorce.

Beau: I know. I will sort it, okay. I won’t fight you on anything, I promise. I still love you Sienna, I always will. Just know I had no choice.

What the hell! Beau, you had a choice; you should have kept your cock in your pants. You should have said no to her advances. You had fucking choices!

Sienna: We all have choices, Beau. You chose the wrong one.

Beau: I know, I know I did.

The smell of bacon filters through my door, tossing my phone on the bed, I’ve had enough of Beau for the day.

“Morning, Princess.” Derrick calls out from behind the island bench, dishing out bacon and eggs onto a white plate. “How are you?” His face softens as he looks at me.

“I spoke to Beau.”

Derrick hands me breakfast as we sit down at the table together. “And?” He questions, raising an eyebrow at me.

“I hate him D. I hate him so fucking much. He doesn’t sound like the man I married.” Tears threaten to spill again, I push myself to hold them back, I am sick of crying over this man who doesn’t seem to give a fuck about me.

“I’m sorry, Si. You don’t deserve this. Maybe it’s an early mid-life crisis. He should have bought a fucking Ferrari, not fuck that ice princess ex-girlfriend.” He responds, giving my hand a squeeze.

The mention of Diana made my stomach recoil again.

“I am here for you, babe; you know that.”

I nod because I know Derrick will be there for me through thick and thin.