1doodlebug1 @OakleyFord_stanNo1 maybe? But who wouldn’t throw over a normal for Oakley Ford?
Vaughn’s a mess, and it’s killing me to see her torn up over some asshole who never loved her more than he loved himself. She showed up at the studio about twenty minutes ago with swollen eyes and a red nose. When I brought her into the sound room, the guys scattered immediately, Luke muttering something about crying girls being bad juju.
“I can’t believe he said all those horrible things to me. And he made it sound like the two years we went out were some kind of torture for him!” She peers up at me with big, sad eyes. “I always tried to be his perfect girlfriend. I never argued with him. When he wanted to go to prom in the limo and I couldn’t afford it, I didn’t make a fuss that he chose to ride around with his friends for an hour pre-gaming. When Paisley got premiere tickets for Last Superhero II and W couldn’t go, I stayed home. When she wanted to treat us all to Disneyland and W thought it was childish, I stayed home with him. I always chose him because he was there when I needed him.”
Oh, Christ. So that’s why she wasted so much time with the douche bag. Her parents’ deaths left her with a big gaping hole in her heart and she filled that hole with W. And she stayed with him so she could keep telling herself all those missed times with her family were worth it because she loved W. Even when she probably stopped loving him a long time ago.
I put my arm around her, drawing her close to my body, not sure of what to say. I don’t have a lot of experience with comforting people. Not only have I not had a real girlfriend in forever, but I don’t remember the last time a friend came to me with a problem.
Her hands curl into the cotton of my T-shirt and she practically climbs onto my lap as she cries. Part of me wishes I could take back my public apology to W. He clearly didn’t deserve it, but mostly I wish I could soak Vaughn’s pain up like my T-shirt is soaking up her tears.
I rub her arms. Kiss the top of her head. Remind myself that this is about her and that I’m a terrible human being for enjoying the closeness between us. This is the only time she’s willingly allowed me to hold her. There aren’t any cameras here. This isn’t for show.
This is as real and as awful and as wonderful as it gets. I’d hold her forever if she’d let me.
After too short of a time passes, Vaughn pushes away and sits up, swiping her face with the backs of her hands. “I look terrible.”
She always looks beautiful. I drag my thumbs across her cheekbones, wishing I could kiss her tears away. “I can get my makeup artist here,” I offer.
“You have a makeup artist? I thought that was just for the photo shoot.”
“You think I apply that concert eyeliner myself?”
She lets out a watery laugh.
“That’s my girl.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders. She snuggles into my side and I swear, my damn heart flips over because I want her to be my girl. For real. “Can I sing to you?”
“Yes, please.”
“Do you have a request?”
She thinks about it. “You pick.”
I start humming, and she tucks her head into the hollow of my shoulder while I sing Jason Mraz’s “A Beautiful Mess” and the words that turn to knives and wound so deep.
I sing until her raspy breaths even out and she falls asleep, exhausted from her storm of tears and emotion. Gently, I ease away from her and throw a discarded sweatshirt over her bare legs.
Out in the hall I find the guys quietly shooting the shit. “We’re done for the day,” I inform them.
“You should take her out tonight,” Rocco suggests.
Even Luke nods. “Yeah, night on the town. Get her mind off things.”
If it had been Luke’s recommendation, I’d have ignored it, but Rocco’s been married for nearly a decade, which, in LA terms, is like three lifetimes. So I nod back and say, “I guess we’re going out tonight.”
* * *
“You having a good time?” I ask Vaughn later that night.
She nods and shoots me a foggy smile. My girl’s been downing glasses of champagne like they’re water. I wonder if I should cut her off, but the past three hours have been the first sustained period of time that she hasn’t been crying so... I’ll take it.
It took a bit of persuasion to get her out to the club, but I guess I don’t blame her for hesitating. Our track record with clubs isn’t all that great. The first time, I ignored her the whole night. The second time, I bullied her into kissing me.
I’m not about to repeat those mistakes tonight. I’ve been glued to her side since we got here, and I won’t kiss her unless she asks me to.
Man, I hope she asks me to.
“You can ease up on the champagne. There’ll still be bottles available tomorrow,” I joke.
“Not if I have anything to say about it!” She throws back her head and drains another glass.
Crap. If she’s determined to get completely wasted, maybe we should take off so she can do it somewhere private. I feel a little like I’m corrupting an innocent. But...Vaughn is having fun. I like Fun Vaughn.
At the same time, I find that I also kind of miss the straight-laced, I-don’t-drink Vaughn.
Figure that out.
“Want to go home?” I suggest. When her pretty face creases with dismay, I hasten to add, “For an after-party. Want to take the party home?”
“Yes! That sounds awesome.”
So I signal for Ty to get the car. He looks relieved.
I draw Vaughn’s hand in mine and go find Luke. If we’re going to have a party, he’s the go-to guy.
“After-party at my place,” I shout at him over the heads of about three chicks. Clearly he’s enjoying himself tonight.
“Party at Ford’s!” he yells, and half the people in the VIP room raise their hands in the air.
Good Christ. The things I do for you, Vaughn.
She looks a little dazed by the response. “You sure you want all these people at your house?”
Her head bobbles shakily. She’s so drunk. Poor girl.
Guilt swirls in my stomach. Maybe we should have gone to the beach instead of a club.
“Yeah, party at Ford’s. Woo.” It’s the weakest woo in the history of woos. I pull her into my arms and press her head against my shoulder. “Stay close to me. These after-parties can get wild.”
She pulls back far enough to pin me with her first clear stare of the night. “I want wild.”
“Then you’ll get it.”
If that’s what she needs tonight, I want to give it to her. And somehow Luke knows that the reins are loose, because thirty minutes later clothes come off before I can even get my front door closed.
“Everyone needs to be legal,” I remind him as he arrows straight for the pool. I should’ve turned off the heat to that thing so it would shrivel his balls when he jumps in.
“Have Ty card people.” Luke shrugs off my hand. “I’m not the fuzz.”
No, you’re an asshole.
I drag Vaughn into the kitchen and lift her up onto the counter so she can lean against one of the cabinets. In the fridge, I find a bottle of Perrier. I twist the cap off and curl her fingers around it. “Drink this. I need to talk to with Ty about something, ’kay?”
“’Kay!” She swings her legs. She’s still on the upward trajectory of drunkenness, which is good. At some point, though, I fear that all the feelings she’s been keeping at bay with the boatload of booze are going to come crashing down. I’ve tried drinking my sorrows away, and it never works. She’s going to learn that the hard way.
For now, I’m hoping she can sit tight for five minutes until I can see how Ty’s doing and whether he’s going to need help.
“I’ll be right back.”
She toes me in the thigh with one gold-sandaled fo
ot. “I’ll be fine. Go. Do your business.”
I don’t want to leave her. I place my hands on either side of her hips and lean in. “I’m going to take care of you.”
“Tonight?” She quirks an eyebrow.
“For starters.” I give in to the temptation I’ve been fighting all night and press a kiss against her temple. “For starters,” I repeat against her sweat-damp skin.
I hustle out to find Ty in the front room on the phone. “You calling in reinforcements?” I ask.
“Yup.”
“Sorry.”
His eyes widen. I’m not known to apologize for the extra workload I place on him. “It’s my job,” he says easily.
“Yeah, but I’m still sorry. Your job sucks sometimes.”
He laughs. “It pays well, and the guy I work for is generally pretty decent.”
That faint praise makes me want to bust out in song, but since I have a little pride left, I allow myself only a big-ass smile.
“I’ll be with Vaughn if you need me.”
“You take care of her. I got the rest of this mess.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.”
Back in the kitchen, I find Vaughn chatting merrily with Paxton Hayes, an actor from a very popular vampire television show. Uh-uh. Paxton has to find his own girl. Vaughn’s mine. I don’t know when that happened, but somewhere along the line Vaughn went from the girl I was forced to have on my arm to the girl I want to have in my life.
“Pax, when’d you get here?” I put a foot of space between him and Vaughn under the pretext of slapping his fist in greeting.
“I was coming into the bar when your party was leaving. Thought I’d tag along.”
“Absolutely.” I pat him heartily on the back. “What’re you drinking? You look thirsty.” I lead him away from Vaughn and toward the living room where the bar is stocked.
He gives me an amused look. “I could use a Jack and Coke.”
“One Jack and Coke coming right up.” Some stranger is manning the bar. “Hey, man, Paxton needs a drink. Can you fix him up?”
The stranger nods and I head back to the kitchen, only to find that Vaughn is gone. I wander around the house for fifteen minutes until finally asking Ty for help.
“She needed to use the bathroom,” he informs me, and then frowns. “But that was ten minutes ago.”
“Aw, shit. Maybe she’s passed out.”
I take the steps two at a time and check the guest rooms. Two of them are occupied, but not by Vaughn. I ignore the couples rolling around on the guest beds and duck back into the hall.
As I make my way toward my bedroom, I pass by Luke. He’s making out with a brunette in a blue tank top and gold sandals—
I back up two steps. No. I’m totally hallucinating, right? Because there’s no way he’s making out with...
“Vaughn?” I demand.
28
HIM
StarStalkerz.com
Spotted: Venice Beach. Boy bander Nicky Novak and longtime GF Elizabeth Simms hold hands during a romantic stroll on the boardwalk. Awwwwww!
Spotted: LA. Oakley Ford and entourage leave The Head for a private after-party. And we all know what happens at Oakley Ford after-parties...
As my heart beats triple time against my rib cage, I watch the girl’s dark head pull away from Luke and peer around his arm.
“Oak?” Vaughn slurs.
The sight of her swollen lips makes me want to slam my fist into the wall. Or into Luke’s jaw. Or maybe into my own jaw, for being such a stupid, pathetic tool who actually thought that...that what? That she was into me? That she would ever see me as something more than a job?
I nearly choke on the pain. “What the hell is going on?”
Luke grins drunkenly at me. “Dude, I was just coming up to piss and your girl threw herself at me.”
Vaughn’s unfocused eyes flick from me to Luke and then back at me. Something registers, although I have no clue what. Then her hand flies to her face and she whirls around, fumbling with the bathroom door. She lunges inside.
Luke and I stare at each other as the sounds of retching fill the air.
He waves a hand toward the bathroom. “She’s all yours, man.”
My anger turns to rage. Pure, white-hot rage as I grab him by the collar and shove him up against the wall.
“That’s my girlfriend!” I growl at him. “You were kissing my goddamn girlfriend!”
Panic fills his eyes, eclipsing the haze of inebriation. “I... I...”
“You what?” I snap, but then he makes a choked noise and I realize he can’t answer because my forearm is digging into his windpipe. I loosen my grip, just barely.
“I thought...”
“You thought what?”
“Thought it was a media thing,” he mumbles. “Like it was with April.”
“Well, it’s not,” I snap.
“C’mon, Oak, be real with me. No way are you into some normal. You go for supermodels, tall blondes with big tits and—” He moans when my arm presses into his throat again.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me.” I’m so pissed off I’m starting to feel dizzy, but I let the anger continue to flow. I have to, otherwise the pain will come back. And the jealousy. I refuse to think about the way her lips had been fused to his. I refuse to.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he wheezes. “She told me she felt sad and needed some cheering up. I thought—”
Every word disgusts me even more. So he thought he’d take advantage of some girl who was too drunk and too distraught to know what she was doing? Luke’s always been an asshole, but I didn’t realize he was this bad. “You thought wrong.”
“I didn’t know it was like that. But now I know and it won’t happen again, okay?”
“Damn straight it won’t! You’re not gonna get within five feet of her ever again, you hear me? If you so much as look at her, I’m gonna beat you so hard that—”
“Oak,” a stern voice booms, and then a pair of beefy arms yanks me away from Luke.
My former friend staggers to the side, clutching his throat with one hand. He looks at me as if I’ve gone insane. Maybe I have. I can’t stop thinking about how this creep’s mouth was on Vaughn’s mouth. His hands on her waist. His body pressed up against her.
“You all right, brother?” Tyrese asks in a low voice.
I manage a nod. “Get him out of my house,” I mutter.
He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Luke protests as my bodyguard drags him toward the staircase. He shouts out that he didn’t know it was real, he’s sorry, he’ll make it up to me, but I don’t even spare him a glance.
I’m done with him. First thing tomorrow I’m calling Jim and requesting a different bassist at the studio. I don’t give a crap how he makes it happen, but it is absolutely going to happen.
Vaughn’s retching has stopped, I realize. I knock softly on the door, but a part of me almost doesn’t want her to answer. Doesn’t want her to open it.
“Oak.” Her weak voice sounds from behind the door, which swings open to reveal her ashen face and bloodshot eyes. “I don’t feel so good.”
The pained, embarrassed note softens something inside me. She’s so drunk that she’s swaying on her feet, and I can’t help but reach out to steady her. Damn it. I want to rage at her for kissing Luke. I want to ask her what the hell she was thinking. But it’s obvious she’s in no shape to talk.
“Everything is spinning,” she whispers.
My heart stutters. “I know,” I say gruffly. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
She takes a step forward and almost falls over.
Sighing, I lift her into my arms and carry her to my bedroom. She buries her face in the crook of my neck an
d lets out a little whimper. “Head hurts, Oak.”
“I know, baby. It’s okay. I’ll get you something for the pain.”
I gently deposit her on the bed, then pop into the master bath to grab some ibuprofen and a glass of water. I force her to swallow two pills and then chug the whole glass. She does it without protest then crawls up the bed and hugs one of my pillows.
“Spinning,” she moans.
“Just close your eyes and go to sleep.” Hard as I try, I can’t move her to urge her under the covers, so eventually I grab the other end of the blanket and pull it over her. She’s passed out before she’s even fully covered.
I stand at the edge of the bed and watch her for a minute. Curled up on her side, eyes squeezed shut. I want to lie down beside her and spoon her against me and stroke her hair and tell her it’s okay that she kissed Luke.
But it’s not okay, dammit. It’s not.
Letting out a tired breath, I turn toward the door and flick off the light. Darkness bathes the bedroom. I take one last look at the sleeping girl on my bed and then go downstairs to help my bodyguards kick all the strangers out of my house.
* * *
The last stragglers don’t leave until four. I stumble into the bedroom and find Vaughn wrapped up in the blanket like a burrito. I drag a tiny bit of the sheet across my tired ass and fall asleep before my eyes close completely. When I wake up, the blanket’s spread across me and the afternoon light is filtering in.
The other side of the bed is empty.
I bolt upright and jog downstairs. Hands on my hips, I survey the empty, spotless living room. Big D must’ve called in the cleaners. And I slept through the whole thing, including Vaughn’s sneaking away.
“Big D,” I call.
“Kitchen.”
I find him sitting at the kitchen table drinking a bottle of Perrier and doing a crossword puzzle. “Where’s Vaughn?”
“Home, I suppose.”
“When did she leave?”
He checks his watch. “About four hours ago. Had Daniel from ice cream day drive her home.” He pushes one of my business phones toward me. “You’ve got a bunch of messages starting with Jim. Call him the minute you get up.”