The Bad Boys of Summer Anthology(142)

“Oh, it turned out fabulous,” my mom remarks, inching closer. Looking for a flaw, I’m sure.

“What happened to Onward and Upward?” I ask her. The heat is starting to rise and I can feel it in my face. We decided on that together—months ago.

“Well, I thought this was better,” she says with a huge grin.

“You thought that Sweet and Sassy, Cute and Classy was better? What the h—“ I stop myself before my anger gets out of control. As much as I would love to scream at her, my dad raised me better than that.

“What they don’t know can’t hurt them, right?” she responds and my blood runs hot—not just hot, but blazing, blistering hot. I cannot believe that she would go there, especially with Ryder standing right behind us.

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” he chimes in and I wonder what he is looking at, because this is not the image I want to portray. Yeah, maybe when I was sixteen or seventeen but I’m older now—even though I feel like I’m about a half a second away from throwing a tantrum that could rival any two-year-old.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I turn away from the poster to face Ryder so I can focus on something else, anything other than that monstrosity up on the wall.

“The band is recording the back tracks to the song. I guess someone wanted it done separately and then they’ll put it all together later,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. Ryder has always been so easygoing, which is a nice quality to have but sometimes it’s just too much. Though nothing ever seems to ruffle him, the flipside is that he doesn’t ever seem passionate about anything either.

After we chat for a few more minutes, he kisses my cheek and disappears down the hall. While my perfectionist mother makes sure the poster is hung to her specifications, I wave goodbye to Stella, who is talking on the phone, and then slip out. I’m still furious about the changes my mom made to the tour promotion without my approval so it’s better if I don’t speak to her right now. Plus, there’s no way she can sabotage my plans with Gina tonight if she doesn’t know about them.



Gina made reservations at the hottest restaurant in town—for the moment. I say that because, in this town, it changes every month…if not week. After leaving my car with the valet, I make my way through an Asian-inspired room with a stream of water cascading down a cement wall, surrounded by stalks of bamboo and an array of orchids resting in numerous ornate pots. The hostess leads me across a makeshift bridge which traverses a pond filled with colorful koi fish, and as requested, seats me in a partitioned-off corner. Gina and I couldn’t be more opposite when it comes to fame. I run from it whereas she relishes the constant attention, always ready and willing to put on a show.

But even though I tend to prefer locations that are off the beaten path, I’ll admit I’ve wanted to try this place—the dishes are supposed to be to die for. While I wait for Gina, who has never been on time a day in her life, I order my drink and thumb through my phone. Announcements about Trace’s tour are posted on every site and I contemplate whether or not I should wish him luck. Would he think it’s stupid if I text him? It’s not like we’re friends. But we are recording together, and he had no issue texting me when he felt like it. Not that he’s texted me since then so even if I do, I doubt he will even know it’s from me.

Figuring what the hell, my fingers type the message and before I can second-guess myself, I quickly press send.

Hey, I just wanted to say good luck tomorrow night.

That was casual, right? I tap my foot and reread what I wrote him, again and again. When my phone vibrates, I practically jump out of my seat in surprise before quickly scanning what he wrote.

Thanks, Peaches, we’re waiting to take off. The concert I can deal with, but planes suck, ya know?

The smile on my face must resemble a teenage girl who was just asked out by her secret crush. The fact that Trace knew it was me immediately means he must have programmed my number into his phone. I’m about to respond when I suddenly feel someone breathing down the back of my neck. I whirl around to find Gina smirking down at me.

“What the hell are you smiling about?” she asks. I hop up, give Regina a hug, and then drop my phone in my purse, hoping she didn’t see who messaged me—she’d have a field day with that.

“Um, nothing. Just checking some e-mails.” I’ve never been a good liar and the look on Gina’s face suggests that I haven’t improved much.

“Okay, you just stick to that story then,” she smirks at me but thankfully drops it, opening her menu instead.

After we order our food, Gina informs me that she found out today her tour has been postponed and she’s going to use the time to concentrate on writing songs for a new album. I envy her for having the time to do what I love most. As she begins to tell me about some NFL player she’s dating, I hear the unmistakable sound of my phone on vibrate, alerting me to a text. Crap, I forgot to respond to Trace!

Not wanting to answer with Gina sitting there, I plan on ignoring it but she pulls her own phone out and her fingers are already flying across the screen when she says, “You take care of that. I have some e-mails I need to address too.” Disregarding the implication behind her emphasis of the word ‘e-mails,’ I open up my messages to find another one from Trace.

I see how it is…too busy for me now? ;)

I know he’s joking but I don’t want him to think I’m ignoring him so I answer without hesitation.

Sorry about that. Out with someone and didn’t want to be rude. In answer to your question, I don’t mind planes but feel the same way before concerts…

There’s a pause and the waiter is dropping off our food when the next text comes in.

At the honky-tonk with guitar boy?

I don’t know whether to be offended by his assumption that I would even be at a honky-tonk, or flattered that he is somehow threatened by Ryder, of all people. Which reminds me, what was with that pissing contest earlier between the two of them anyway?

Before I can fire off a Regina-style retort—who, by the way, is still feverishly texting someone while impressively managing a set of chopsticks—another text appears.

Kidding, girl. You enjoy yourself…we’re headed out. And when we perform together, I’ll hold that gorgeous hair back for you.

I turn my phone off, fighting like hell to keep the smile in check this time. It’s a good thing, since Regina seems to have finished her conversation as well and is now watching me as she eats. I begin to devour mine as well and we resume our discussion about her flavor-of-the-week. Surprisingly, she doesn’t ask me about my love life, probably because she knows that dating and touring do not go well together.

After we settle up the bill, Regina predictably tries to convince me to go clubbing with her, but since I legitimately can’t this time because of tomorrow’s insane first-concert-of-the-tour schedule, she seems satisfied. We say our ‘goodbyes’ at the table—the valets will have our cars all geared up so we can make a quick exit—and she walks out, turning to give me a final wink before she goes. While I wait for word that they’re ready for me, I drink one last sip of water before remembering to turn my phone back on. I’m surprised to see another text from Trace; he must have sent it before the plane took off.

Glad you’re with my girl, Gina, by the way…

That fox! I guess she saw who I was texting after all and she never once said a word. Not that I ever doubted it, but no one could ever accuse Regina Savage of being unable to keep her mouth shut.

The manager from the restaurant signals that they’re all set, so I shoot off one final text before I go.

You bitch!

I smile as I imagine Regina laughing her ass off. Her response appears before I’ve even left the table.

We’ll talk soon ;)





Chapter 6

Trace



The second I get offstage, exhausted and coated in sweat, Jay pulls me toward the back like I’m a child being sent to his fucking room. I shake out of his grip and stomp forward, swearing like a sailor so he knows that I can walk and talk and shit without his assistance. He follows me into my private dressing room, where I grab a bottle of water and down it in one sizeable gulp. All I want to do is head back to the hotel and rest up before I’ve got to get up to do this all again tomorrow, but I have a feeling that’s not going to happen or Jay wouldn’t be on me like white on rice.

“You got a half hour to shower ‘fore we roll out, Ace,” he says, removing any possibility of sleep in my immediate future. Doesn’t mean I have to like it though—hey, if he’s going to treat me like a child, I can sure as hell play the part.

“Seriously, Jay? Did you see tomorrow’s schedule?” I ask petulantly.

“I made the motherfuckin’ schedule. Now go get your sweaty black ass in the shower so we can hit the club where WKYS is sponsoring the kick-off party for your fuckin’ tour. We’re clubbin’, T…it’s not like you gotta go visit the ‘ol folks or somethin’,” he says, walking out and slamming the door.

“I’d rather go visit the ‘ol folks, asshole,” I mumble to myself. Still needing my body to cool down before I shower, I check my phone to see if I have any new texts—nope, just the usual bullshit. I was kind of hoping I’d hear from Taryn again but then realize she might be waiting to hear from me since she texted me first last time. Damn, I do feel like I’m in grade school today.