Torn to Pieces (The Boys of DownCrash #2) (new adult contemporary romance / rockstar romance) (20 page)

“I won’t,” Tatum said.  “True love always finds its way.”

He tore the door open and left.  I considered chasing after him, like I should have done when he started to leave the parking lot of my apartment.  Again, I held back.  With Tatum, I felt strong.  I felt confident.  I felt powerful.  And I felt pleasured.  Cared for.  Loved.  Without him, I felt vulnerable.  All because of Tatum and his hold on me.

~19~

I opened the bathroom door and started to work through the smaller crowd.  I spotted Derreck almost instantly, laughing with Nick.  Of course, a few girls were around them.  I wanted to judge the girls, call them sluts or bitches, anything to boost my spirits, but in reality, what did he know about Derreck?  About me?  Derreck was probably buying drinks left and right, breaking promises.

But I had broken a big promise. 

Right in the women’s bathroom.

My face reddened and my mind replayed the images while my body replayed the pleasure.  I turned and darted through the kitchen area, so I wouldn’t be spotted by Derreck.

I made it out back with minimal looks and only one of the cooks yelling at me for not using the
fucking front!
as he lovingly put it. 

The air was cool and the back of the place was eerily quiet.  Before the show, it was was full of people, all wanting to see DownCrash, help DownCrash with their equipment, anything to be part of the fantasy of rock n’ roll. 

One car remained and when I saw Logan carrying two guitar cases, I called for him and waved.  He stopped and looked at me, then nodded.  He motioned to his car and I hurried to him, opening the backdoor.

“Thanks Maggie,” he said.

“What’s in the bags?” I asked.

“Guitar and a bass,” he said.  “I like to drive my own stuff home.  I’m picky like that.”

Logan smiled.  He had a rockstar charm about him.  Logan was a few inches shorter than Tatum, but had the same kind of build.  Wide shoulders, long arms, and the longest fingers I’d ever seen on a person.  It always amazed me, watching him play bass and guitar.  He was quietest one in the band, the one focused on the music and technique.  But his eyes told a story of someone who could be a little crazy if need be.

“Where’s... the rest of the band?”

“You mean Tatum?” Logan asked.

I nodded.

“He split with... uh...”

Logan froze and puckered his lips.  He put his hands up and rubbed his face.

“It’s okay,” I said.  “I know...”

“You know?  How do you know?”

“He told me,” I said.  I couldn’t help but smile.  I knew my face gave everything away.

“Must have been his bathroom break, huh?”

“He wasn’t lying,” I said.  “We were in a bathroom.”

Logan laughed and tapped the top of his car.  “Too much... too much...”

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“If it’s about Tatum, I’m out of it.  No offense, but I don’t get involved with relationships.”

“That’s fine.  I wouldn’t pull you into anything.”

“Yeah, you would,” Logan said.  He raised an eyebrow, looking cocky.  “But it’s cool.  I get it.  Now, what do you need?”

“A ride.”

“What kind of ride?” Logan asked.

He had a half smile that was full of bad intentions.

“Come on,” I said.  “What do you think I mean?”

“Hey, I once watched Scarlett kiss both Tripp and Tatum... wasn’t sure if you did the same kind of stuff.”

“Stop it,” I said.  I felt annoyed, my nerves pinching.  “Don’t be an asshole.  I need a ride home.”

Logan put his hands up.  “Sounds good.  Hop in.”

Logan drove fast and fearless and I wasn’t sure why I could expect anything different from him.  He was, after all, a member of DownCrash, right?  He was a rockstar.  Sometimes the silent types were the deadliest.  I watched the way he drove and the way his face looked, like he had something to prove, nothing to lose, and like he had everything to gain by driving as fast as possible.

The silence in the car became uncomfortable and as I debated on what to say - without sounding like a fan of the band - Logan sighed.

“He’s lost in you, you know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Tatum.  He’s lost in you.  When he came to practice after you two fought, I never saw him that down.  He wasn’t mad, he was hurt.  Even after all the shit he went through with Carrie, I never saw him like this.”

“He told me about Carrie.”

“Yeah, well that was a disaster from day one.  She was the complete opposite of the band, always.  Maybe that’s why he fell in love with her, or fell in love of the idea of her.  It was his way of having a break from the band but when music took control, he had to leave her.  I feel bad for her, but she needs to move on too.”

“He said he’s going to talk to her.”

“He did.  Backstage.  Then they stormed out.  He told her he was sorry and that he was in love with you.”

“He said that?” I whispered.

“Tatum is honest,” Logan said.  “Sometimes right to the point honest.  Fun to watch.”

The car grew silent again and a few minutes later I was home.  The car idled and I looked at Logan, my emotions twisted and confused.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said.

“Is he dangerous?”

“Tatum?”

Logan scoffed.  “You know what I’m talking about.  Tatum told me you had an ex...”

I put my hand up.  “Logan...”

“I’m serious, Maggie.  Tell me the truth, right now.  Is he dangerous?”

“I don’t know,” I said.  “I thought he was dangerous in high school, but that was a long time ago.  He’s an adult now.  Would he hurt someone?  I don’t know.  That’s why... I’m so scared right now.  Okay?”

“If you need anyone...”

“I know.”

“I hate admitting it, but seeing the way you and Scarlett just fit in with us,” Logan said, “it’s like you’re part of the band.  And we protect each other, no matter what.”

“Thank you, Logan,” I said.

My phone beeped and I cringed.

Logan saw the fear in my face.

“Check it now, with me here.”

“He’s back at the bar still...”

“I don’t care,” Logan commanded.

The quiet bassist was suddenly alive, strong and protective, much like Tatum and Tripp.  I actually felt safe.

I looked at my phone and smiled in relief.

“Not him?”

“No.  Just a friend.”

It was a text message from Annie.

Need to talk when you can. Miss you

“What friend?” Logan asked.  His voice had that need-to-know tone as if I had ten boyfriends sneaking around town. 

I showed Logan my phone and shook it.  “Friend from school.  Annie.”

“Annie, huh?”  A smile grazed Logan’s face ear to ear.  “She hot?”

I laughed.  “She lives an hour away, calm down.”

“I don’t care.  I asked a question.  Is she hot?”

I opened my door and slid out. 

“Hey, Maggie...”

I looked back in the car.  Logan looked at me and didn’t say another word.

“I’m okay,” I finally said.  “I’ll handle everything soon.  Okay?”

“When you get rid of that ex of yours, tell your friend to come over for a weekend,” Logan said.  “Take her to a DownCrash show.  Tell her you can get her backstage.”

“I’m not sure she’s into rockstars though,” I said.

Logan smiled.  “Everyone is into rockstars.”

I shook my head.  “For the record, Logan, she is hot.  Really hot.”

I closed the door and rushed into my apartment.

All I had to do then was wait... wait for Derreck to come home.  Find the strength to talk to him.  Wait for him to leave.  Find Tatum.

And then life would be happily ever after...
if it were all just that easy
.

~20~

I settled in bed, practicing what I’d say.  It didn’t occur to me that when Derreck came home drunk, it might be the worst possible time to try and talk to him. 

What if he didn’t remember?

If I spilled my guts to him, told him to get the hell out, told him how much he hurt me, and told him that I was in love with someone else, he couldn’t just leave, could he?  If he stayed on the couch and slept it off, what would happen when he woke up, sober, and didn’t remember a thing?

Somewhere in that mental battle I fell asleep.  I didn’t dream but when I heard thundering sounds, I jumped up.  I looked around the dark bedroom and saw the clock glowing at me.  It was almost four in the morning.

Fuck.

I heard more thuds out in the living room of the apartment.  When Derreck let out a howling laugh, I knew he was beyond drunk.  My heart raced and I had two very scary thoughts...

First, I couldn’t break things off with him.  Not if he was that drunk.  It just wouldn’t work.  Second, if he was that drunk and we hadn’t touched each other in such a long time, he’d want it.  He would want
it
.  Not me, but
it
.  And
it
meant a certain part of my body.  That’s how he always referred to it.  He didn’t call it making love or sex or even fucking.  When he wanted
it
, he called
it
as the name of the body part it was.  Maybe in the context of sex, that word could be used to be erotic - maybe with Tatum - but not with Derreck.  He thought of sex as my one body part and his body, end of discussion.

And with him drunk, I wouldn’t be able to stop it. 

All of Derreck’s rules wouldn’t apply when drunk.

I heard him talking and laughing, his voice growing louder.  I shivered and shuddered, telling myself to just go back to bed.  Even then, that wouldn’t matter.  His sense of reasoning was stolen.  If he found me asleep, he’d wake me up.  He’d force my legs open.

A slap sound came at the bedroom door and I started crying. 

“Maggie!” Derreck cried out, his voice slurred. 

I waited for the door to open and hell to begin.  Instead, there was a series of thuds and a grunt from Derreck.  Then came the silence.  The intense, creepy silence.  The only sounds I heard were my breathing and my pounding heart.  I stared at the door for what felt like hours until I found the courage to take the covers off my body and check.  I walked slow, expecting the door to just suddenly pop open and have Derreck there, waiting for me. 

But that didn’t happen.

I opened the door and found Derreck on the floor.  He was face down, his head towards me, his eyes shut, mouth open. 

I thought he was dead so I dropped down and touched his neck.  His neck was warm and his heartbeat present.  I stood back up and watched him.  Derreck had to go, once and for all.  And I needed to be with Tatum, now and forever.  It was the only thing that made sense in my heart.  After all the mental planning, the night was shot.  I’d have to wait for the morning.  Which was probably a good idea considering Derreck would surely wake with a killer hangover.  He’d be weak and in pain, a perfect time to finish this relationship.

I smiled as I looked at Derreck.

It would be his last night in the apartment.

Derreck coughed and his throat gurgled.  I jumped back as a flow of vomit poured from his mouth all over the carpet in the hall.  My stomach turned and I covered my mouth, thinking I was going to lose it too.  I stepped into my room and shut the door.  I couldn’t deal with that tonight.  Maybe that’s what Derreck needed.  To wake up in a pool of his own throw up.

I slept peacefully, excited for the morning.  When I woke, I rushed from my bed, ready to tear open the door and kick Derreck.  I wanted to wake him up and get him out of the apartment.  I had my cell phone in my hand, prepared to text Tatum and share the good news.  It was already almost noon and I couldn’t believe I had slept so well and so long considering I had Derreck just outside the bedroom door.

I opened the door and said, “Okay, Derreck, we have to...”

All I could see was a pile of dried vomit on the carpet.  No signs of Derreck.  No lifeless body on the floor.  No smell of food or coffee.  Nothing.  Just the puke on the carpet. 

“No,” I whispered. 

I ran to the kitchen, then to the living room.  I looked out the window and saw Derreck’s car gone.  That’s when it came to me.

Derreck had work.

I groaned in frustration, remembering that he told me he had work today.  Work with the landscaping job he landed.  Work with the buff, muscular guy, Nick.  I walked back to the spot where Derreck had fallen and thrown up.  I stared at the spot again.  He managed to pass out cold like that but woke up on time for work.  Those were the little things that amazed me.  He could be such an asshole like that yet still have the responsibility and care to make sure he was at work on time.