Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(93)

Exalted, Griffin tossed down a napkin, a business card, and . . . I swear . . . a section of toilet paper. “Ha! Three! Read ’em and weep.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Kellan.

Knowing he had to have way more than that, I nudged him in the ribs. Kellan shook his head at me, then pulled his prizes from his pockets. He had to unfold them all he had so many. “Uh . . . five,” he muttered, throwing them on the table.

Griffin slammed his hand on the table. “Damn it, Kellan! I f*cking hate you.”

Evan raised an edge of his lip. “Just five? Slow night, Kell?”

Kellan laughed at Evan, while Griffin muttered, “Fine, prick, what shot do you want?”

“What about Matt?” I asked, looking over at the quiet guitarist; he was watching the exchange with a secretive smile on his lips. “How did you do?”

Matt was about to answer when Griffin interrupted. “Pfffft, no way Matt beat Kellan . . . it’s over.” He raised a pale eyebrow. “Unless . . . someone slip you a condom?”

Matt slowly shook his head. “No . . .” Reaching into his pocket, he slowly pulled out a flat credit-card looking thing. His cheeks brightened with color as he tossed it on the table. “I got a motel key.”

By the whooping and hollering the guys did, you would think Matt had just won the lottery. “Holy shit!” Griffin exclaimed. “That’s an instant win!” Bouncing on his feet, Griffin grabbed Matt’s shoulders. “Oh my God, you beat Kellan!” Turning Matt around, he showcased him to the bar. “Everybody! This is my cousin right here, and he just dethroned God’s Gift to Women!” He rubbed Matt’s head with his knuckles while Matt turned about a bazillion shades of red.

Slipping away from him, Matt hurried out of the bar. Griffin raised his hands. “Dude? Your shots?”

Evan was laughing so hard he had to wipe tears out of his eyes. I couldn’t stop laughing either. When Evan could talk, he mumbled, “I guess I lost,” and started reaching for his wallet.

Kellan stopped him and handed the waitress a folded up one hundred dollar bill, or maybe two of them. I wasn’t sure. “I got it, Evan.”

Evan clapped his shoulder. “Thanks, Kell,” then stumbled after Matt and Griffin.

Kellan grabbed my hand and pulled me after them, leaving the motel key and the stack of phones numbers sitting on the table. It made me smile that not a single member of the band kept any of the numbers . . . not even Griffin. When we got outside, Kellan asked me, “So, you’re really not mad?”

I gave him a sarcastic smile. “I’m furious.” Kellan raised an eyebrow at me, and I laughed again. “It only would have made me mad if Griffin had beat you.”

Kellan looked over at where Griffin was announcing to the street that his very embarrassed cousin’s “balls had just dropped.” Shaking his head, Kellan murmured, “Never would have happened.”

Under Matt’s insistence, the very buzzed D-Bags stumbled their way back into the arena with me. Getting past the security guard near the back entrance was a little trickier than leaving it had been. It was a different guard than before, and he kept asking for proof that the boys were really in the show. Kellan, Matt, and Evan had their clearances with them, but Griffin had forgotten his. Everyone was too drunk to come up with anything logical sounding; Griffin just kept showing him the pass around my neck, but that only allowed me access. Luckily Deacon was relaxing in the bus, overheard the argument, and grabbed Griffin’s missing credentials for him.

Once inside, the boys made a beeline for the stage. An overwrought person with a clipboard hurriedly pulled them toward the rear entrance of the stage. Before Kellan disappeared, he grabbed my face and kissed me. The alcohol on his breath was strong; hopefully he remembered all of the words to the duet he was about to do.

I moved back into my favorite place to watch Sienna announce her special encore to wrap up the evening. The crowd went nuts, already suspecting what it was going to be. Light-headed and giddy, I tried to whistle along with the crowd. It came out flat and airy, more like I was blowing up an inner tube.

Sienna’s arm swished to the back of the stage. “Ladies and gents, please put your hands together again for the D-Bags, led by the outstanding Kellan Kyle!”

Maybe it was because I was tipsier than before, but the screams seemed extra piercing. The boys hobbled out, only half stumbling as they switched places with Sienna’s band. Kellan walked up to stand beside Sienna, and she grabbed his hand then leaned over to kiss his cheek. I really wished she’d stop doing that. Kellan discretely pulled away from her as he acknowledged the crowd. Wondering if any of the forward girls at the bar tonight realized just whose jeans they’d been shoving their numbers into, I watched Kellan and Sienna start their number-one hit.

Even though Kellan had stumbled and fallen onto a streetlamp on our walk back to the center, he seemed completely with it as he sang about his imaginary heartbreak. When Sienna stepped to his side to sing her part to him, she was so close I was sure she could smell the fumes wafting from him. Instead of facing the audience, Kellan and Sienna kept the song insular, singing toward each other, virtually ignoring the crowd. It amplified the pain in the song. Flashbulbs went off like crazy, capturing every heated moment. When the song ended, Kellan made like he was going to storm off of the stage, like he was so angry he couldn’t stand to be near her anymore; that matched the way the video ended. Sienna changed it up, though. Grabbing his arm as he walked past, she yanked him into her body. Too drunk to resist, Kellan collided with her. Quickly reaching up, she pulled his head down to hers. Their lips collided next, and then the stage faded to black; only the flashes of cell phones lit up their bodies.