Untamed (Thoughtless #4)(46)
With a smile sexy enough to be on every billboard in town, she kissed my cheek. “You’re the best. I won’t be gone long, I promise.” A few minutes later, she left, and oddly enough, without her presence near me, my mood darkened like the sun had just set.
My family wanted to chitchat, but I ignored them all and went to my room to sulk. Grabbing a tennis ball, I sat on the floor at the foot of the bed and played a game I liked to call Whack Imaginary Kellan in the Nose.
Repetitiously tossing the ball against the wall, watching it bounce on the floor, then catching it was soothing, and after a while, I stopped picturing Kellan’s face—a face that for some reason drove girls crazy—and zoned out. My mood evened as my mind dulled, and when I heard a light knock on the door, I automatically said, “Come in.”
When the door creaked open, I expected to see someone holding one of my girls with an exasperated look that said, Please take them. But instead, it was Chelsey at the door. She gave me a small wave while I resumed my peaceful habit.
Sliding onto the floor beside me, she slowly said, “So…today was interesting. What was that about with Kellan?”
Thinking about Denny’s comment—that the producers thought Kellan was the only one with talent—made my stomach roil again. When I caught the ball, I squeezed it so hard I thought it might split a seam. “Same old, same old. Everyone thinks he shits gold and the rest of us are just his backup dancers. Just once, I’d like people to notice me, ya know? Just once, I want to shine. I want…” I sighed. “I just want a chance…”
Chelsey put a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll get it. And if you don’t…does it really matter? Isn’t being the backup dancer for the biggest band on earth better than being the star of a band no one knows about? Being in a band was all you ever wanted as a kid.”
I looked her square in the eye for several longs seconds before answering. “No, it’s not enough to be second fiddle in a great band. I want both—to be the biggest star in the biggest band. I want it all.”
Chelsey looked sad as she shrugged. “Do you know the fable about the dog with a steak?”
I hated fables. They were all incomprehensible, childish rubbish. “No, but I’m positive it doesn’t apply to my life.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. The dog in the fable has everything going for him, but he loses it all because he wants more. You might want to read it.”
With an irritated huff, I resumed throwing the ball against the wall. “Like I said, it doesn’t apply to me. I don’t want more, I just want what I deserve to have, what I should already have…” A chance to shine, a moment in the spotlight unclouded by the rest of the guys. That was it. And that wasn’t much.
Chelsey sighed, patted my shoulder again, then stood up. “Be mindful of that steak, Griffin. It’s rarer than you realize.”
Snatching the ball, I looked up at her. “I have no f*cking clue what you’re talking about.”
She sighed, and she looked about ten years older as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “I know. And I’m scared for you, because I feel like…when you do figure it out, it’s going to be too late.”
I was agitated when Chelsey left the room, and no amount of ball thwacking could restore my serenity. Things just weren’t turning out like I thought they would. I thought I’d have my name alone in lights by now, but more often than not, people didn’t know who I was, not like they did Kellan. People just had to look at his hair and they recognized him. Me? I practically had to spell it out for them before they understood who I was—Oh yeah, that bassist guy who got caught jacking off. Didn’t sit right with me. I should be just as big as Kellan.
The sting of fans wanting me to rename my child crawled up my spine, followed closely by that stupid producer’s stupid words—He is the talent. While that sentence still sizzled my skin, the praises that Kellan’s numerous fans bombarded me with shuffled through my brain, leaving whiplike scars across my skull. He’s so amazing, so sexy, so good onstage, he has such a good voice and such a great body, and he seems like such an amazing husband, father, lover, person…
And you…you’re good too.
Fuck that. I was so much better than good, it was ridiculous. Sure, I might have blown it when Matt had given me a chance on lead, but that was nerves and lack of practice. They never let me play, so how could they expect me to rock it at a moment’s notice. But if they gave me all the chances that they gave Matt, I’d be prolific in no time. I mean, I’m a savant, how could I not be awesome? Which brought to my greatest beef with the band—Matt proclaiming that I’d never do anything but play bass. You will never play lead. Those words still pissed me off. I didn’t see one good reason why we couldn’t share the spotlight.
The guys needed to accept my greatness instead of trying to bury it even further. Yeah, since the very beginning of the band, they’d been too busy holding me back to truly appreciate me. And now I’d bumped into the proverbial ceiling with the D-Bags, and I had nowhere left to go.
Fuck. I needed to be drunk, not hiding in my room overthinking shit I couldn’t change.
Tossing the ball into the closet, I stood up and grabbed my keys off my nightstand. Anna would probably be pissed when she got home and found out that I’d left our kids with my family, but at the moment, I didn’t care. She could bitch at me all she wanted, I was leaving.