A patron at the bar said, “She was wailing at him, calling him a liar and a cheat. Then, she threw her drink all over him and left. Tom went chasing after her.”
If only he would come chasing after us!
Right now, we should thank the storm gods because someone caught the full action on video.
For the full stormy show, watch below.
Oh, holy crapping mother of God.
Sixty Seconds Later—Lyla’s Bedroom, Tour Bus, St. Louis
“Are you fucking Lyla?” Jake’s hard voice comes at me the instant I press the phone to my ear.
Unwilling to have this conversation in front of an audience, I wait until I’ve shut the bedroom door before responding.
“No, I’m not fucking Lyla,” I grind out.
“Are you saying what you think I wanna hear or the truth?”
I clench my jaw, shoulders stiffening. One thing I don’t ever do is lie. And I don’t like being accused of it by anyone, especially someone who knows me as well as Jake does.
“It’s the truth. Have I ever lied to you before? No, and you fucking know it. You might not like the truths I’ve told you in the past, but they were just that—the truth. So, if anything, that should one hundred percent tell you that I don’t fucking lie. Have I kissed Lyla? Yes, last night, as a matter of fact. But fucked her? No.” Sadly.
“Jesus, Thomasina. Calm the fuck down. Are you PMSing right now?”
“Ha!” I laugh. “Not fucking likely. I’m not the one who’s grown a vagina, remember?”
“Screw you.” He laughs.
The tension I felt with Jake is gone, but there’s still some remaining, and it has everything to do with a certain little blonde out there.
“So, I’m guessing you haven’t been on the Internet this morning?” Jake asks.
“No. Do I need to?”
“Yeah. There’s a video doing the rounds on all the gossip sites, showing you and Lyla in a bar last night. You know, the bar where you were with some blonde chick, and Lyla was yelling at you before she proceeded to chuck a drink all over you—which was perfectly timed, might I add. Tru just showed me the video.”
There’s a video of that?
Of course, there’s a video of it.
“Shit,” I exhale.
“What happened, man?”
I press the heel of my hand against my eye, rubbing it. “It was something and nothing. Lyla just had this bet with Sonny that I wouldn’t score with the blonde I was talking to. She doesn’t like to lose, so she made sure she didn’t.”
Jake lets out a laugh. “Jesus, she’s a live wire that one.”
“Yeah. No fucking kidding.”
“So, did you kiss her before or after the beer drowning?”
“After. I chased her out of the bar. We argued. Minutes later, I had my mouth on hers. Her ass was in my hands, and her legs were wrapped around me while I dry-humped her against the side of the bus.”
Jake laughs. “And you didn’t have sex with her?”
He’s surprised, which isn’t surprising because usually nothing stops me from having sex.
“We were interrupted.”
“And when has that bothered you before?”
“I didn’t stop for my benefit, assface. Lyla’s not that kind of girl.”
And for some unfathomable reason, I didn’t want the first time I had sex with her to be against the side of this bus.
Not that I’d admit that to Jake. I’d never hear the end of it.
“Well, as interesting as it is to hear about you dry-humping the lead singer of my act, let me remind you that she is just that—the lead singer of my act. The act you’re managing.”
I rub a hand over my hair. “I know. I fucked up.”
“I wouldn’t say you fucked up. Lyla made an unwise move in the bar. But, man, come on, I know how it is on the road.”
“Yeah, but things are different. I’m trying to be different.”
Jake lowers his voice. “I know. But you don’t have to be.”
“Yeah, I do.”
There’s an unwritten silence between us.
I break it. “We need to do damage control on the video.”
“Yeah, we do. Leave it to me. I’ll get Stuart and Zane on it.” Stuart is Jake’s PA, and a fucking expert at cleaning up our messes. “I don’t know how much I can do since it’s already out there, but we’ll do something.”
“I just don’t want anything to harm Lyla’s rep.”
“No press is bad press,” Jake says.
“Yeah, I just don’t think it’s the right time for things with her to go public. If she’s linked to me, they might start digging and find out who her mom and dad are.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees.
I think we’re about to wrap up the conversation when he says, “So…you like her.”
“Lyla?”
“Yeah, Lyla.”
“You know I do. I was trying to get in her panties earlier this year, remember?”
“I remember. And I also remember that she shot you down—twice. But I’m not talking about fucking here, Tom. I mean, do you like her? ’Cause it seems she likes you now.”
I shrug. I don’t care that Jake has just said that Lyla likes me.
Why would I? I’m a guy, and guys don’t care about shit like that.
I just want to fuck her, multiple times, because she’s hot, and she has the best pair of tits I’ve ever seen.
“Yeah, I mean, she’s cool. She’s…I don’t know. I guess she’s different than other chicks.”
“Did you just admit that you actually like a woman, not just because you want to bang her?”
Shit.
“No.” I grimace.
“Yeah, you fucking did. And just so you know, I’m recording this call, so I have the evidence.”
“Fuck off. What are you? Twelve?” Still, I can’t help but smile.
He laughs. “So, should I prepare myself for more headlines then?”
That’s Jake’s way of asking if I’m going to pursue her.
I scratch my cheek. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m her manager. We’re living on a bus together.”
“So, that means you’re gonna bang her. Okay, well, so you know, I have no issues with you doing her.”
“Gee, thanks, Dad.”
He laughs. “Just don’t screw it up. I don’t want my most promising act to up and leave the label because of you.”
“Thanks for the confidence.” I scowl.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. You know what I mean. And don’t go getting yourself hurt either.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Did you actually just say that to me? You’re not talking to Denny right now, you know.”
“Fuck yeah.” He chuckles. “I forgot who I was talking to for a moment.”
There’s another weird silence between us.
Then, he says, “Tom, did we just have a fucking heart-to-heart?”
I rub a hand over the stubble on my chin. “Dunno, man. Maybe…yeah.”
“Wanna talk about guy stuff? Pretend like it never happened.”
“So, the Mets really fucking suck at the moment.”
We stay on the phone for a few more minutes, talking baseball and cleansing our guy souls. Then, we finish up. I have to talk to Lyla. She needs to know about that video online—if she doesn’t already.
I pull open the door and step into the hall.
I can see Lyla sitting close to Cale. Their heads are bent close together as they’re talking.
I feel a strange tightening in my chest.
Then, Cale puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him.
My blood starts to boil. My hands are balling into fists at my side.
And I have a vision of striding over there, ripping his arm off of her, and then pummeling him until I drive the message home.
It’s weird and irrational.
I know she said there’s nothing sexual between them, and I know
she wouldn’t lie to me. But every time I turn around, he’s got his hands on her. Now, I’m starting to think that maybe he wants her, and she just can’t see it.
And what annoys me the most is the fact that it annoys me.
I really want to tear his goddamn hands off when I see him touching her.
The only thing stopping me is the fact that Jake will have a problem if I tear off Vintage’s bass player’s hands. That, and I don’t want to scare the shit out of Lyla.
Of course I have a temper. I’ve gotten into fuckloads of fights over the years but never over a woman—well, not over one who I actually cared about. But, yeah, I’ve gotten into a few brawls over me borrowing another guy’s woman for the night, without his consent.
I’ve just never cared about seeing another man’s hands on a woman I’ve fucked—let alone, one I’ve only kissed once. I’ve gotten off plenty of times from watching a woman I’ve just screwed getting screwed by some other guy while I move on to the next.
But the thought of another man touching Lyla makes me want to punch a hole in the nearest wall.
I feel territorial over her. Even though I have no right, I feel like she’s mine. And I don’t want anyone but me touching her.
“Lyla, got a minute?” I grind out. I don’t mean to sound so pissy, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
Her head jerks, and her gaze hits mine. I don’t even bother to look at Cale.
I just relish in watching her stand, forcing his hand to fall away from her. I enjoy watching her walk toward me.
My eyes never leave her once, not even to blink.
She’s not looking at me though. Her eyes are lowered.
Fuck.
She’s been avoiding me since last night, and I took it in stride, giving her space to come around to things…to us.
Before, when she asked my opinion on something important to her, I thought we were taking a step forward.
But now, it appears we’ve gone two steps back.
And when I tell her about the video—well, I have a feeling that’s going to take us back even further.
As she nears, I step back, letting her pass by me and into the bedroom. The smell of her perfume has my head spinning and my cock hardening. She goes over and stands by the desk, putting the bed between us.
I raise an eyebrow and close the door. The click of the latch is loud in our silence. I turn back to her, wondering how to start.
Then, she blurts out, “I’m sorry!” She covers her face with her hands.
The sight of her upset feels like I’ve just been punched in the chest.
Striding around the bed, I cover the distance between us quickly. I slide my hands into her hair, forcing her face up to mine. She slowly drops her hands from her face. I don’t like what I see staring back at me from her eyes.
She looks sad and worried. It makes the punch in the chest feel like child’s play, compared to the bulldozer I just took, seeing her like this.
I’m guessing she knows about the video.
Well, I’m hoping she knows, so that her apology isn’t over something else. Something I don’t even want to think about. Cale.
“You’ve seen the video.”
Shaking her head, she blinks up at me. “I haven’t watched it, but I saw the headlines.” Her eyes lower. “I’m so, so sorry, Tom. I should have thought about it before I pulled my stunt last night. I know how famous you are, and believe it or not, even with who my parents are, I’m just not used to the fame. I was shielded from it, especially after my mom died. I sometimes forget—”
“Shh…it’s okay.” I press a soft kiss to her forehead.
“No, it’s not.” She moves her head gently from side to side. “I’ve embarrassed you.”
I let out a soft laugh.
That’s what she’s worried about. Not herself. But me.
“Trust me, you haven’t embarrassed me. Nothing embarrasses me. And even if I could be embarrassed, you”—I draw a line down her cheek with my finger, and I really like the shudder I feel in her from my touch—“could never embarrass me.”
She blinks those blues up at me. A feeling flashes through my chest.
“Is Jake angry?” she asks.
I notice she’s not moving away from me, so I take advantage and move closer, cupping her cheek in my hand.
“No, he’s not angry. He’s doing damage control now.”
“For you?”
“No, Ly, for you. He’s making sure that your connection to me won’t have the press digging things up on you.”
Her eyes lower again. She bites her lip.
I feel my cock jerk at the sight.
“I never thought of that,” she whispers.
“Don’t worry. I made mistakes, colossal fucking mistakes, in the beginning when TMS started getting recognition. Jake did as well. We know what it’s like. But it gets easier with time. It becomes the norm.”
She nods, eyes still lowered.
I don’t like it. I don’t like it when she’s not looking at me.
“Hey.” I tap her chin with my finger.
She brings her eyes to mine.
“It’s not a big deal. No one will care tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay,” she breathes, a gorgeous smile edging those kissable full lips of hers.
Her eyes move over my face before settling on my mouth.
She wants me to kiss her.
“Ly…I’m gonna kiss you again.”
Her head moves infinitesimally. I take that as a yes. I don’t want to waste a second and give her a chance to change her mind. Moving in quickly, I capture her lips with mine. I slowly run my tongue along her lower lip, and then I seal my mouth over hers.
I kiss her with as much force as I can without hurting her. I want her to know how much I want her.
Her body goes limp in my hands.
I wrap my arms around her, encasing her. I lick the sweet-tasting inside of her mouth. She moans the sexiest fucking sound, and then she swirls her tongue around mine. Her hands go around my back, clutching me, and she digs her nails in. I can feel the pressure on my skin through my shirt.
I’m as hard as stone, and my cock is pressed up against her toned stomach.
The stomach that I’m going to get down on my knees and lick while I unbutton her jeans. Then, I’m gonna take her in my mouth and finally get to taste that sweet pussy of hers.
“I want you,” I breathe into her mouth.
“Oh God,” she whispers, her body trembling. She opens her eyes, staring straight into mine.
Her gaze is hazy and lust-filled, and in this moment, I really believe that I have her, that I’m going to get what I’ve been desperate for from the instant I laid eyes on her.
I slide my hand down her side and across her stomach, heading for the button and zipper on her jeans, when the loud sound of the bathroom door shutting jerks that look from her eyes and her body from mine.
Stumbling back from me, that hot chest of hers heaving, she shakes her head. “No. I can’t do this with you.”
I hate the way she says you. It’s like she would do this with any other guy but me.
She makes a move to go past me, but I stop her, catching her wrist.
“What do you mean, you can’t do this with me? There someone else you want screwing you?”
“You’re disgusting,” she hisses. “Don’t you ever stop?”
“No, I don’t. Not when it comes to you.” I lean down into her face. “You know what I think? I think you want me bad, Lyla. And it scares the shit out of the frigid bitch you became after what your brother and that dick of an ex did to you.”
It’s low, and I know it. But I can’t seem to help it around her. She brings out the bastard in me at times.
I see her eyes glaze with hurt, and it bothers me. I hate that I care enough for it to affect me.
And the worst thing is the silence that follows.
She doesn’t give a retort. She just calmly pulls her arm from my hand and
starts to walk away.
Panic claws at my chest.
I don’t know what to do with it because I’ve never felt it before. Not in this way. Not over a woman.
“That’s it, Lyla. Run away. Do what you do best.”
She stops and turns to me. The hurt is gone, and her expression is blank.
I don’t know which is worse. Seeing her hurt, or seeing that she doesn’t care.
“I’m not running. I’m making the smart choice—and that’s getting away from you.”
Jesus, that fucking hurt.
My hand rubs across my chest as I shake my head slowly. “No, you’re running because you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared of anything—least of all, you.”
I let a smile slide onto my lips even though smiling is the last thing I feel like doing right now. “Yeah, you are. But there’s nothing to be scared of. I’m gonna show you that. You can keep running, but I will catch you and soon. I’m not giving up, Lyla.”
Her eyes adjust, and the cold in them chills me to the bone.
“But you should give up, Tom. You really should.”
Then, she’s out the door.
And I’m left here with a raging hard-on, the worst case of blue balls, and a pain in my chest that I can’t explain.
A Few Hours Later—Diner, St. Louis
We’ve come to a diner to have an early dinner before tonight’s show. The rest of the crew is setting up at the venue, so it’s just me, Cale, Sonny, Van, and Shannon. I have no clue where Ashlee is, and I don’t care to ask. I’m just glad I don’t have to watch her fawning all over Tom again.
Oh, yeah, and the man himself is with us.
He hasn’t tried to speak to me again since this morning. He’s barely looked at me.
It bothers me way more than I care to admit to myself right now.
Maybe he’s changed his mind about not giving up. And I’m not even going to go into how much that thought affects me.
He was pissed after I pulled away from our kiss. But then, I can’t blame him. I must have come across like a total tease.
I’m not.
I’m just confused and scared.
He was right about that part.
Tom lights up parts of me that I want to stay dark.