Mended (Connections, #3)(65)

“But she’s married to Damon,” Amy snaps.

“I know, but that doesn’t change how I feel about her.”

Tears fill her eyes.

“We’ve had a casual thing going for a long time. It had to end eventually.”

“I’ve wanted more than casual for a while and I thought you did too.”

“Amy, believe me, you’re gorgeous and I enjoy your company . . . but I’m not in love with you.”

She takes a deep breath and stands. With a frown she says, “Fuck you, Xander Wilde. Don’t call me ever again.”

I throw myself back down on the bed as soon as she leaves. I can’t even go after her right now. I feel like an *, but I never promised her anything.

The guys come back around thirty minutes later and drag my ass out of bed. They ran into Amy, who was spitting nails. Garrett puts his arm around my shoulder. “Look, buddy, I think I told you once—chicks don’t do casual.”

I shake my head because I don’t really have a response and he pours me a drink and tells me all about how chicks don’t do casual. After drinking more than we should on the bus, we head over to the arena, all in foul moods. We watch Breathless perform and drink a few more beers. I know I’m being irresponsible, but I just don’t give a shit right now.

Breathless is ending their set and it was flawless. Jane’s love for the audience and of performing made for a great high-energy show. Scarcely taking a breath between songs, she powered through soaring ballads, bounced excitedly through new songs, and scorched the place with a cover of Katy Perry’s “Roar.” Her charm and undeniable strong pipes had the half-packed house crazy in love with her.

The band has fifteen minutes before taking the stage. Again Ivy doesn’t show to huddle with us, but this time we know she’s in her dressing room because her f*cking bodyguard is standing outside it.

Leif, undaunted, walks up to him. “I need to talk to Ivy. Get out of my way.”

The brute crosses his arms and completely ignores him.

Leif gets right in his face. “I said, I need to talk to Ivy.”

“Not happening before the show,” he grunts.

“Why the f*ck can’t I talk to her?” Leif curses fluently at the ninja.

With my face still battered from my last encounter with Johnny, I make my way over there. I want Leif to make it onstage; I don’t give a f*ck what happens to me.

“Come on, man, no use trying to budge this *,” I tell Leif.

Just as the door opens and I think I finally have my chance to talk to her, I see that it’s Damon, not Ivy.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks me, staying close to his bodyguard.

I just stare at him while ways to kill him run through my mind.

The cue for the band to take the stage sounds, and I look at Leif. “Go.” He hesitates and I growl at him. “Go.”

“This is f*cking bullshit,” he shoots at Damon and finally walks away, leaving me with Damon and his bodyguard.

“Are you letting her onstage or what?” By this point I’m scowling at them both.

“Look, boy, you need to learn how this is going to work. I hold the cards. I say where and when Ivy makes an appearance. I say who she talks to and who she doesn’t. Do you get it?” He enunciates every syllable in case I don’t understand him.

I glare at him. “Fuck off.” My voice is cold and my intentions are made clear.

There’s fury blazing on his face but not as hot as mine.

“You will be gone before morning—or you and your band will be on your bus headed back to LA. A few calls to the remaining venues about a conflict among the band members, some drugs found on the bus, whatever the hell I want to make up, will have them accepting Ivy graciously in your band’s place. Do you hear me?”

I lunge for his throat, but Johnny grabs me by mine with one hand and gives me a swift punch in the gut with the other. Damon nods at him toward the set of doors leading backstage. “Let him watch his last show,” he orders, and I’m assisted backstage, in case I couldn’t find it myself, in some kind of hold that I can only assume is a martial arts move.

The Wilde Ones’ show sucked. By the time Ivy took the stage, the audience was yelling about why it was taking so long. They started up with hits, but their performance lacked energy, there was no excitement, and they all seemed completely drained of any artistic ability. Even Ivy’s last song, a cover mix of a combination of both Kelly Clarkson’s and the Script’s “Walk Away,” just wasn’t enough to excite the audience. The show was a bomb. Immediately afterward Ivy was quickly taken from the arena. As I’m staring at her back as Damon’s personal security leads her away, Leif grabs my arm. “Come with me. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

“Where are the other guys?”

“They all went back to the bus. It’s just you and me.”

I haven’t told the guys I have to leave before the bus takes off at six a.m. I was going to tell them right after the show, but maybe it’s best this way. I decided to go, not because I give a shit about Damon’s threats but because I want the guys to finish the tour and if they know my reason for leaving they probably won’t agree to finish. So putting all that happened tonight out of my mind, I follow Leif into what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s incredibly loud and hot in there and I regret agreeing to come the minute I set foot inside. I can feel the pulsing bass lines travel up my leg and uniform glassy expressions are on everyone’s face. This place screams illegalities. From having to call ahead to get in to the fact that there are no lines, no signs, and no ropes outside.