Claiming Beauty (Taking Beauty Trilogy 2) - Page 114

I poked a firm, commanding finger into his chest, and let my anger be known.

“If you ever call her a ‘dumb bitch’ again, I will shatter your bones under one of these tires,” I practically spat at him.

He didn’t back down.

“Cut the shit, ass-wipe. We were supposed to be on the road over an hour ago, right? Why the fuck ain’t you picking up your goddamn phone?”

“I forgot my phone,” I answered unapologetically.

“You…you forgot your phone.” He was dumbfounded. “That is the stupidest goddamn shit I’ve heard out of your smart mouth yet. You fuckers never leave your phones out of sight.”

“Yeah, well, I was distracted,” I told him, pushing past to bring Angel to the bus. Within the instant, I knew the mistake, but it was too late to backpedal.

“I see that,” he coolly observed. “Speaking of distractions, I can’t wait to see you explain why you’re dragging a…an associate onto the bus.”

“She’s my guest now,” I gruffly replied.

“That’s not gonna fly.”

I opened the door for her.

“Just head to my room. Do you remember where it is?”

Angel nodded quietly.

“Good. Go.”

She pushed inside, her backpack catching on the door for a brief moment before she disappeared through the door.

“She looks primed and ready to hit the nature trail at a fucking campground,” Steven muttered. “You turn down a whole bunch of groupies, but you get your dick wet with a hitchhiker? Bitches literally throwing themselves at your cock not good enough?”

I grabbed him by the cuff of his shirt, tugging his face disgustingly close to mine.

“You want to talk? Let’s talk,” I coldly started. “You have been a fucking thorn in our side from the start. I have no idea what your goddamn problem is, but you need to cut your bullshit and start acting like a fucking manager instead of a spoiled little bitch.”

Steven’s eyes flared with anger, but he didn’t dare try to tug away from me.

“I promise you, Steven, I will work on being easier to deal with. In exchange, I bring this girl with us. She stays out of the way. No problems. No distractions. She’s gonna be great for morale, and she’s coming back home with me. Okay?”

His beady little eyes positively glowered, but he didn’t lose his temper. However, he did seem to evaluate the circumstances, because there was a pause before he finally opened his fat, ignorant mouth again.

“Okay. Fine. Be the fucking prima donna,” my unsightly manager finally muttered. “The bitch – the girl stays,” he quickly corrected himself, “so long as she ain’t a liability. She stays out of my way, she doesn’t interfere with the band, or your performance, and she can stay.”

I let go of his cuff. “Deal.”

“We’ve only got, like, five or six shows left anyway. Don’t go fucking this up for some pussy.”

I contemplated knocking him out, but chose to take the high road. I met his sneer with a furious curl of my lip before letting myself onto the bus.

The others were loitering around the kitchen and entertainment areas. Dylan and Terence were playing Mario Kart on one of the game consoles we kept hooked up to the big-screen TV.

Waylon, however, was contemptuously watching me with a disdainful frown. As I tried to walk past, he stepped in front with his arms crossed, his greasy, lean frame almost comical in threat level.

“What’s this fuckery about you coming in late with some wet-behind-the-ears chick?” He asked me pointedly.

“It doesn’t concern you,” I told him distantly.

“Actually, it does. It means I’ve gotta miss lunch. You know how much I hate missing lunch? It makes me all cranky, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m aware. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Right…”

He let the thought trail.

With a sigh, I took the bait.

“What’s the problem?”

“What was your rule with the bus?”

I fucking knew he was going to pull this.

“…No girls.”

“Right…” the thought trailed again. “Except, funnily enough, just saw one. Only, the rest of us? We’re already here. She came from your direction. Wanna, you know, clue us in on that?”

The others were listening now.

I growled inwardly.

It was time to lay down the law again.

“She’s not going to be a problem. I’m taking her home with me. She’s going to stay out of sight, you understand?”

Waylon deliberated on this for a moment.

“Yeah. Guess so. Even at the shows, right?”

“What?”

“Well, you know, special treatment and all. Unless you want to rub it in our faces, that is. If she’s staying out of sight, that means she’s not leaving the bus for the shows. That’s only fair, wouldn’t you say?”

“What difference does it make if she watches us play?”

Waylon smiled cruelly.

“Well, here’s a scenario: I’m playing. I’m rocking out. Having a good old time.

“I look over, who am I gonna see? Bam. It’s your broad. I lose my focus. I start missing chords. What a distraction, am I right? It’s just a total slap to the face. Here’s the fearless leader’s girl, where’s mine? Oh right. Can’t have one. My thoughts start wandering, my fingers start missing chords…”

I swallowed back my burning temper. I’d have been more up for this shit if Steven hadn’t already put me in a filthy fucking mood. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to assault my guitarist, then go back outside and lose my shit with the manager.

Neither of which were acceptable.

“You see where I’m going with this?” He asked, feigning politeness. “It’s just a total bummer, but easily avoidable.”

“Fine,” I growled. “I’m too tired for this shit. You win. She stays on the bus during shows. On one condition.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She stays out of your sight? You stay out of hers. Don’t go near her, don’t speak to her, don’t even think about messing with her. You understand?”

Waylon smiled wickedly.

“Heh. Yeah, all right then. Have it your way, boss. The girl and I steer clear of one another. She stays in that cage of yours until we’re home, I don’t mess with her.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled.

It made me look weak to give into his demands in front of the others, but I was exhausted.

I was also struggling to understand what I was really hoping to accomplish with all of this.

Seriously? Bringing her onto the bus?

Taking her back home with you?

What the FUCK are you thinking?

I couldn’t explain it, but I barely had the energy to keep standing. Instead, I gave a brisk nod to the others – who quietly returned my acknowledgement – and stumbled towards the back of the bus.

Once in my room, I spotted Angel seated on the edge of my bed. Her backpack was slumped in a corner, still zipped up and ready to go.

With a heavy sigh, I let my fatigue finally settle in. Was it worth it? Was it worth ostracizing my band, my manager, and my entire meal ticket for this chick?

Angel looked up at me softly, a few strands of her hair falling in front of her eyes. It was clear that she sensed the conflict – hell, maybe she’d even heard that asshole talking shit.

“I can go if you need me to,” she whispered sadly.

“Where I need you is here,” I murmured.

What? Seriously?

It was like my mouth was running without me. First, there was my hesitation with the sex when I climbed back on the bus, and now this. My brain wasn’t participating in any of this, not since I’d descended upon her in the middle of the night.

But is that better, or worse?

I didn’t really have an answer. It seemed like my heart and my tongue had grown cozy together – too cozy. I needed to be smarte

r than this. I knew that I had to think rationally about this sudden change in the dynamic… after all, I’d just invited who was supposed to be a victory fuck onto my bus for the rest of the tour, alienating my band and our manager in one fell swoop.

But the way that she looked at me, and that pain in her eyes, told me that somehow… somehow, I’d made the right decisions.

Maybe because I didn’t think about them, I wondered.

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