“How could you not tell us you knew them!” Griffin shouted as she tossed her camping bag on the floor next to our front door.
“Or that she’s one of them,” Maeko reminded our already peeved roommate.
I’d been getting the third degree since my performance last night, which surpassed even my expectations. I never dreamed I’d feel so alive and refused to give Bound’s presence credit.
Griff, Maeko, and I had to leave the festival a day early when the heat that came down on me turned into a wildfire. My affiliation with Bound and what it entailed was now a hot topic. Clearly, I hadn’t thought it through before I announced to the world that I knew them just to get under Bound’s skin.
I wasn’t sure how much I was at liberty to say, so I kept my mouth shut. It didn’t stop anyone from speculating, though. Candid photos of me at the festival started appearing online, and it wasn’t long before the blogs caught wind. Even those fan pages dedicated to every move Bound made, including whenever one of them scratched their ass, were now reposting old selfies of me stolen from my page.
After only a brief period of deliberation, the consensus was unanimous.
I, Braxton Fawn, was just another groupie.
“How did this happen?” Griff woefully demanded.
“It’s just a job,” I mumbled as I moved to sit on our ratty couch. “It’s not a death sentence.” Maeko perched next to me on the arm of the couch, a silent show of support as Griffin angrily paced the floor in front of us.
“But your life will never be the same again. Can’t you see that? I thought you didn’t want to be famous.”
“I didn’t. I don’t,” I quickly corrected. “I told you why I’m doing this, Griff.”
“But what if it doesn’t work?”
Shit.
Perhaps I hadn’t considered all the possibilities, but there was nothing I could do about it now. Bitching out would be even worse than failing since it was the only guarantee I wouldn’t succeed.
“I have to try.”
“Can’t you just be happy for her?” Maeko snapped at Griff. “This is amazing, and if anyone deserves it, Brax does.”
Like always, Griff melted at Maeko’s ire until she slumped defeated onto the couch next to me and took my hand in hers. “I am happy for you, Brax. I’m sorry if it didn’t seem that way. I’m just…worried.”
Join the club. “It’ll be fine.”
“Do you really know for sure, though?”
“No. But I also don’t know if I won’t be hit by a bus the next time I walk outside. I can’t let an unknown tomorrow stop me from living today.”
Griff nodded reluctantly before a wide grin spread her lips. “So when do I get to tell the world that my best friend is a rock star?”
I thought about the card in my pocket. The one with an address, date, and time scribbled in Houston’s angry handwriting. Did this mean Bound had finally accepted me as one of their own? I shouldn’t care whether they did, but I had a lot on the line, so it was easier said than done.
“I’m not sure, but we start rehearsing for the tour in a couple of days.”
“Can we come?” Pink tinted Maeko’s round cheeks, excitement taking over her soft features.
I considered how nice it would be to have backup of my own until I remembered the two words Houston had written beneath the address. Come alone.
“Not this time,” I answered Maeko. And maybe it was for the best. Maybe Bound would finally understand that I wasn’t going to cower any more than I would worship. “I need to do this one alone.”
Late that night, as I impatiently waited for sleep to steal me away, my phone chimed yet again. Resolved to stay awake and stare at the ceiling all night, I fumbled around for my phone lost in my sheets. I didn’t want to look, knowing that it could only be trouble at two in the morning, but I was a glutton for punishment.
All day, I’d been getting tagged on social media by people I didn’t know from Adam. The last one I dared to look at was some asshole on Twitter theorizing that I must give good head with lips like mine because why else would Bound make a special appearance to my show.
Before that, a fan page had photoshopped a stolen picture of me with each of Bound’s members and then took a poll on which pairing made the better-looking couple.
Baffled, but keeping it real, I found myself staring at those pictures for longer than I cared to admit. I couldn’t decide any more than the hundreds who’d flooded the comments, so my roommates and I drank two bottles of wine to banish the thoughts.
Staring at my phone screen and the most recent Instagram notification, I realized I had a direct message from someone but not just anyone.
[thebassistLo]: good show, baby fawn
Before I could think of what to say, though a simple thank-you would have been the most appropriate, Loren messaged again.
[thebassistLo]: But are you a vocalist, or are you a guitarist?
Growling as if he could hear me, I quickly typed a response even as my heart pounded, my skin flushed with heat, and cinnamon filled my nose. Thanks to the electricity buzzing through my body, it took me longer than usual to type a coherent response.
[BraxtheFawn]: I thought you were watching? I’m both.
[thebassistLo]: But you performed like you couldn’t decide.
Once again, another message from him came through before I could respond.
[thebassistLo]: What color panties are you wearing?
My ears burned, and my nostrils flared as the smell of something burning filled them. I read the message and then again—three more times.
I was shaking with a different emotion this time.
Anger.
Who the hell asked for his opinion? Why did I care even though I hadn’t? I was mortified and disappointed, which pissed me off even more.
[BraxtheFawn]: Get fucked, you narcissistic, fragile, small-dick debutante! I didn’t ask—
Inhaling deeply, I erased what I’d typed before starting again and hitting send. Loren wanted to get under my skin, and I’d cut my own arm off before I let him.
[BraxtheFawn]: Thx. I’ll work on that. See you Monday.
The asshole responded with a smirking emoji.
