Unintended Read online

  "You okay? We can put this off if you want. It's been a full on week." He spoke low, so the others couldn't hear as they argued over what they were ordering from room service.

  "Yeah, I'm right. It was just…seeing her was like a punch in the gut."

  "The best things in life are never easy," he said, glancing at the rabble.

  I grunted, not sure what I was meant to say to that. My life had been easy up until the point I'd started using. I'd gotten everything I'd ever wanted, a music career, money, fame, women…but I was still trying to understand why it'd become too much. Josh said it maybe it was because I wanted to love and be loved in return and I wasn't finding it. That's why I was so protective of Blair, why I'd latched onto her like I had and why I'd completely gone off the charts the split second I thought she'd left me for good. Furlough'd understood it and used it for his own gain and just thinking about the fucker made me break out in hives.

  "What do you want to eat?" Josh said, breaking me out of my dangerous thought pattern. Sometimes I felt like he was babysitting me like a child, but if he weren't here…

  "Get me the biggest fucking steak they've got."

  "A man with an appetite," Joe said with a laugh, chucking the menu at my head.

  "Mate, I could eat the whole fucking cow right about now. Lock it in."

  As Sasha called down for our room service, I found myself wondering how the fuck I was going to hold on until Friday night. If Blair didn't show, I didn't know what I would do and that was the terrifying part. Three days was more than enough time for her to pack up and disappear and the thought of never seeing her again punched a hole in my heart the size of the universe. I silently prayed to anything that was listening that she would show up at the Roundhouse.

  She had to.

  I lived in a tiny three bedroom flat in a converted townhouse in Holloway, which was a short bus ride from Camden. You could barely call it an apartment - it was more like a money grabbing exercise aimed at a market that was suffering from a housing shortage. I was positive that at one point the room I was staying in had been the lounge because the only common room was the shoebox of a kitchen and the even smaller bathroom. For four hundred pounds a month plus bills, it went to show how expensive this city was even for the scraps. My wage from the shop hardly covered everything, but at least I had enough money over to go to the pub down the street. To date, I hadn't touched any of the money I'd taken from West except to buy a plane ticket from Rome to London. I'd transferred it into a UK bank account and it was currently collecting interest.

  I stared at the card pinned on my bedroom wall and despite myself, I ran my fingers over West's unruly handwriting. I hadn't counted on the feelings that exploded in me when I saw him yesterday. Uncontrollable yearning mixed with a healthy dose of rage. He'd stared at me like I was something to eat, like he wanted to devour me and it would've been so easy to let him. It was fucking terrifying how strong the emotions he still stirred up in me were. Desperation. Despair.

  There was nothing stopping me leaving this place and never looking back. All I had to do was throw my clothes in my suitcase and roll away on the putrid waters of my life. The room was bare, besides the white card pinned onto the cream walls with their stuccoed holes.

  Glaring, I picked up my jacket from the end of the bed and shrugged it on, checking my pockets to make sure I had my phone, keys and wallet. Striding towards the door, I hesitated and looked back at the card. With an annoyed growl, I plucked it down and folded it into my pocket.

  Fuck, I really hated West right now. He knew I wouldn't be able to resist. Mother fucker.

  I rode the putrid number twenty-nine bus into Camden, my back pressed against the window as I stood in amongst the rabble. This route had the reputation of pickpockets and thugs harassing commuters, so I held myself close and zipped my pockets up. Every so often, the bus would stop to pick up more people and my eye would catch on some white posters stuck all over a shelter when there was one.

  I wondered what I should do. There was no way in hell I was entertaining the thought of going to the Affliction gig. I could scalp the ticket and flip West the preverbal bird, but the bigger question still remained. What in the fucking hell was I going to do with my life? I could so easily get the tube down to Kings Cross and get on the Eurostar train to Paris. I could be there in three hours. From Paris I could go anywhere in Europe. I could travel and work it out on the road.

  Fed up with being squashed in a corner, I shoved my way off the bus and onto the street underneath the overland rail pass a few blocks away from Camden High street. That's when I saw the one word that meant everything to me and the one that made everything hurt so much worse than it had to. My heart leapt into my throat and I wasn't sure what I was looking at. Most of the bluestone wall was covered with dozens and dozens of black and white posters and all of them had Wildcat printed along the top with a tag line that read I'm in Love. Underneath was a stenciled image of a tiger and under that was the fucking culprit. Affliction.

  Was West trying to drive me insane? It was his nick name for me, just like I called him Dark and Dangerous. He whispered it in my ear while he touched me with his fingers and fucked me with his cock. I felt my face heat and it wasn't like the randoms walking around me knew what it meant, but I still felt fucking embarrassed, furious, not to mention in utter agony. I needed a fucking drink, but it was only like ten am.

  Casting my gaze away, I walked into a tiny Off License and snatched an energy drink off the shelf and a chocolate bar. When in need get your serotonin fix by sugar. I made a silent vow to myself to get sloshed later.

  That's when I saw the latest issue of NME and West's butt ugly face staring back at me and I thought I was pissed already, but I felt the levels rising beyond breaking point. The headline printed down the side of the cover read, Affliction's Wildcat, The scoop on their new single and direction. New direction?

  I stood there for what felt like an age, just staring at the magazine, wondering what it said inside. The man behind the counter coughed loudly and before he could tell me that his store wasn't a library, I snatched it up and gave him the money for my sugar high and burning curiosity that would, no doubt, be the end of me. I felt caged like that stupid as fuck tiger on the posters outside. If this was West's game, he played it fucking well and I was currently losing. I hated losing.

  I left the store and was greeted with another poster, this time a single one floating on the side of a phone booth. I sunk back into my hair and kept walking, threading through the throng of people going too and fro. Up the street was a little Internet Cafe, a tiny dodgy place with virus riddled bricks they liked to call computers. They only charged two pounds an hour, so I went in and sat at an ancient PC in the back and opened up the browser. Taking out the card from my pocket, I looked down at the URL wondering if this was the right thing to do. Watching whatever video West had cooked up might only make things worse. It might hurt me more than I already was. But I was done running, even though every fiber in my being was telling me to hightail it out of the city and never look back. West still had a piece of my battered heart and I fucking hated him for it.

  With a dramatic sigh, I punched in the URL and waited for the page to load. When it came up, I saw it was titled like the posters outside. Wildcat (I'm in Love). Obviously. He'd gotten all assholey and romantic and written me a song. What-fucking-ever. The still was a blurry black and white frame from the video, so I couldn't tell what it was about unless I actually played the damn thing. So, it was a case of do or die.

  I shoved my earphones from my mp3 player in my ears, then into the headphone jack on the computer and pressed play. My heart was either about to die its last death, or I was about to get what I'd wanted all along. The truth. He obviously wanted to tell me something, so I steeled myself to hear it and make up my own mind.

  It was a trademark Affliction song, sexy, distorted, and complicated, just like West. I let out a sigh and listened, resigned to just let whatever it was
that was coming bitch slap me. Then he was on screen, the black and white video making him even more fucking hot than he was. I wasn't sure how a hue made someone more attractive, but he was Jake West after all. Then he started singing and I felt my body respond and I crossed my legs in annoyance.

  Your love was always yours to give

  Just one taste and I'm yours

  Nothing even matters now, You're mine

  And we're on our way

  She's a wildcat, tearing me apart

  Wildcat, I'm in love

  I never thought I'd fuck it up

  I woke and you were gone

  Oh no, I learned I loved you today

  But you've gone away

  She's a wildcat, tearing me apart

  Wildcat, I'm in love

  She tears my skin and scars my soul, She's every sin to me

  She pulls my heart and bruise my lips, She's everything to me

  She's a wildcat, tearing me apart

  Wildcat, I'm in love

  She's a wildcat, tearing me apart

  Wildcat, I'm in love

  Never thought you'd leave me like you did, yeah

  Never thought I'd treat you like I did, yeah

  Never thought I'd love you like I do, yeah

  She's a wildcat, tearing me apart

  Wildcat, I'm in love

  Despite wanting to be the hard ass I knew I was capable of being, I felt a tear slide down my cheek. A single fucking traitorous tear.

  There were little things throughout the video that reminded me of us together. A scene at a tattoo shop, a shot of him opening a roller door to a storage shed where he walked out singing the words, another where he was walking through the middle of a packed dance floor and right at the end before the song faded out into nothing, an empty bottle of Jack in his hands that he flung to the side. I watched it smash on the ground beside him as he stopped and the camera kept going. Joe walked in from out of shot and handed West a sign and when he held it up I'm not sure if I wanted to vomit or not. It said, I love you, B. I watched until the frame faded to black, blurring his form and the words of his sign until it was gone.

  He couldn't tell me, so he used the one thing that he could. Music. I didn't know if I should hate him feel sorry or fling myself at his feet.

  They must have pulled this off in less than three months while they were still on tour. I didn't know much about the bullshit inner workings of a high and mighty rock band, even though I'd been there for a month, but it must have taken a shitload of strings to pull this off. Magazines, posters, music videos, not to mention actually writing and recording the song and all the distribution hoo-ha.

  My brow furrowed as I stared at the screen and the comments on the video. He did this for me? Blair Hayden, the nothing nobody that was nothing but baggage? He loved me? Dropping my head in my hands, I couldn't help the image of that morning in Rome appearing. It was seared in there for eternity. Another woman's mouth around his cock. Something that had been mine. Nobody loved me.

  How could I go to the concert and face him again after seeing that? How could I even entertain the thought after everything I'd given him? After believing in us enough to even try when I'd all but given up on everything. My eyes began to prickle with tears and I shut off the browser and ripped my earphones out. I practically threw the money at the guy sitting at the front counter and opened the door with a violent jab, the magazine tucked under my arm.

  Looking across the street I saw another bank of Wildcat posters and I felt like screaming and tearing my hair out. Asshole. I strode down the footpath towards the High Street and when I went to cross a lane, I saw another lot of posters slapped on the side of a building. Mother fucker. Walking past Camden Town tube station, I saw them plastered on the tiled walls. Mother fucking, shit, ass, bugger, fuck...

  That sorted it then. I was going mad, but probably not in the way West was counting on. I was going to that stupid fucking concert and the only thing he'd be meeting was my fist and then an intimate encounter with his balls and my right foot.

  I wasn't sure how I was going to get through another two days. Two days of pent up rage. The moment I laid eyes on Jake West was the moment I beat the living shit out of him.

  The lights of the piece of shit club I was standing in pulsed around me, the irritating as fuck house music bursting my ear drums. I used to love this - the attention, the women shoving their tits up against me, rubbing themselves against my cock…teasing. I'd pick the prettiest one and take her back to whatever hotel, whatever dark corner, and let her suck me into oblivion. Then I'd bend her over and she'd take whatever I offered without complaint. Usually hard and fast. Erase the noise.

  Hands grabbed at my arms, all of them pulling me their way for their slice of attention. They all wanted something, no matter what they pretended to offer in return. Money, drugs, a wet hole to fuck. Over here Jake…How about showing me a good time? Let me suck you off. What's your poison, babe? Ice? Coke? Ecstasy? Something told me that this was a dream, because it didn't feel real and everything was hazy around the edges. I hadn't dreamed for months. That was something I was able to get a handle on pretty quick. The demons weren't in my sleep, they were there in the fucking mirror when I woke up.

  The music and the people were too much and I began to break out in a cold sweat. The room was spinning, the pulsing lights blinding, but then there were hands on my face and that familiar spark that I'd been missing so much, lit up my skin. Opening my eyes, I stared into her hazel, oddly comforted in the fact that I remembered every little fleck of caramel. My wildcat was stunning and perfect and all of that times a million on the inside. How couldn't she see it? She was the calm in the fucking storm. The only wild thing I wanted.

  I raised a hand to cover hers, but she stepped back, breaking contact. I wanted to reach out and pull her against me, I wanted to feel her lips against mine, but I was frozen to the spot. As she weaved through the crowd, slipping further and further through my fingers, I tried to follow, but hands kept grabbing at me, slowing me down, and I felt like I was drowning.

  "Blair," I heard myself yelling, but even that sounded far away. "Why are you still running? What do I have to do to show you?"

  I was in the bathroom at the hotel, little bags of powder and pills lined up on the counter. Why wouldn't it just stop? I was so fucking tired of everything. Nobody was there. They didn't care. None of them did. They just wanted to ride my coattails into fame by association. Shallow fucking money grabbers. I'd been sucked into the life and it was all my own fault. It needed to stop.

  A buzzing sound thrummed in my ears and I slumped against the counter, screwing my eyes shut. Why wouldn't the noise go away? Why couldn't they just leave me alone? Why did I care so much about finding someone who could see me?

  Nobody could see the real me because I wasn't real anymore.

  What the fuck was that noise?

  Jake West was dead inside. 'Bout time the outsides matched. I reached out for the first bag.

  Bottoms up, asshole.

  "Get up you lazy prick."

  A rolled up magazine slapped me in the forehead and I sat up with a groan, the last memories of my fucked up dream dissolving into forgetfulness. Josh stood beside the bed, waving the magazine at me, totally missing the part where I'd just had a fucked up dream. I really wasn't in the mood for a retelling. Squash it away for another day.

  "Since when are you my fucking alarm clock?" I asked sullenly, rubbing my eyes. Couldn't I just sleep until Friday? Fuck me.

  "Since it's almost lunch time." He laughed and dropped the magazine onto the bed.

  It flicked open and I realized it was the issue of NME that had come out that morning. I picked it up and stared at myself looking all badass and rock 'n' roll. I'd been on a ton of magazine covers, solo and with the boys, but this one was kinda different. My thoughts instantly went to Blair and I wondered if she would see it and if she'd come across any of the posters yet. Just thinking about the look on her face made
a smile pull at my lips.

  "Good, yes?" Josh asked.

  "Good."

  Checking my phone, I let my email download and frowned at the one from Joe at the top. Why would be email me when he was down the fucking hall? Douche. All it said in the subject line was 911. In the body was a URL to a notorious newspaper that usually printed nothing but sensationalist crap. I didn't like where this was going. I didn't need to deal with this bullshit, not today, not until my plan played out.

  "Fuck," I cursed.

  "What's up?"

  I tapped the URL and waited for the page to load. When the headline appeared my stomach twisted and I begun to break out in a cold sweat. I was gunna be sick. I began to scan the article, but I didn't get very far before I dropped the phone. I'd read more than enough. Josh picked it up as I let my head sink into my hands.

  Jake West's Dark Side. Drugs, Women, Destruction.

  They knew everything. The drugs, the women, all the times we'd paid people to go away, my near death experience. Everything. There was my entire sordid past, laid out for the entire world to see. The fuck up, the egotistical bad boy, the self-absorbed drug addict who couldn't even kill himself.

  A wave of nausea rose in my gut and I stumbled out of bed, slamming the door to the bathroom closed. Dry heaving into the toilet bowl brought back a whole slew of memories that only served to make me vomit more bile. Ignoring Josh's knocking at the door, I sunk back onto the floor, resting my bare back against the cool tiles.

  There was only one person who could know all of this. One fucking person.

  "You okay?" Josh had cracked the door open as was looking down at me with a frown.

  "Do I fucking look okay?"

  "The story says it was an anonymous source."

  "We all know who leaked it," I spat, getting to my feet and turning on the tap. Splashing water on my face did nothing to calm me down.