Beautiful Crazy Part 20

"Some guy he works with at GEM. Steve something. He's been calling, texting, and emailing the band and me. He even sent Mandi a new Gretsch and promised us an interview with Metal Maniac magazine."

The blood in her body froze. Why would some random coworker, whom Mason obviously didn't care for, give Mandi an expensive guitar? Why would he be calling the other band members or promising them anything?

Kevan cleared her throat, trying to dislodge her rising panic. "Wait, what? He works with Mason? Why is he here, Joe?" And what the f.u.c.k does he want?

He looked up, averting his eyes. What was he hiding?

"Joe?" Kevan asked, her voice low, dark suspicion and fear clouding her thoughts, threatening to choke the air from her lungs and the words from her mouth. "Why is he here?"

"He's been trying to sign the band, Kev. He has been working on them individually, making promises, giving them presents. The whole burrito, kid."

The air left the room. Kevan couldn't breathe. Her head swam with the repercussions of what Joe had told her. No way, he wouldn't do this to me. Not after today. She'd been a fool. Thinking he wanted her, that they might find a way to make this whole thing work out. Business was everything to him. It was his life, his ident.i.ty. He'd told her that just today.

He'd used her and played dirty all along. All he'd wanted was another good screw, and she'd given in every time. Dammit. While he seduced her, his lackey was busy wining and dining the band. All so he could keep his precious CEO job, and now she was left with nothing. The last of her savings gone, spent on Bowen's rehab. Her business sure to fold under the loan she couldn't repay. Her new connections would ditch her the minute they realized Manix was with GEM. Or maybe Mason would steal them too. Worst of all, Bowen s.h.i.+pped out of rehab too soon, and she was left to help him recover.

The cranberry juice in her stomach roiled and threatened to make its way up. Joe was still talking. Saying something about GEM and the rep. The buzzing in her ears prevented her from hearing him. She pushed out of the room, stumbling around a couple in the hall, searching for the bathroom door. Instead, the door opened out into the alley. The smell of refuse everywhere tipped her barf meter over. She lurched forward and threw up against the building.

Once her stomach was completely purged of fluids, she leaned against the brick wall and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked around at the garbage in the shadows. This was where she always ended up, with the trash. She was either pulling Bowen out of sketchy situations or getting herself into one. On shaky legs, she walked down the alley and into the back lot where the RV was parked.

The utter despair that had taken over her body, her heart, was absolutely the worst she had ever felt. How could he have lied to her? Especially after he knew how much it would hurt her? First Bowen, then the business, now betrayal from the one man she'd let herself trust. Maybe fall in love with. She wanted to rip out the brick sitting in the place of her heart with a feral scream, but she couldn't summon the energy. Nothing.

G.o.d, her heart physically ached. And why did it hurt so much? It should be some other part of her body. Her gut should hurt, her head. Just not her d.a.m.n traitorous heart. Stupid man had gotten under her f.u.c.king skin and broken down her walls so he could cut her heart out. Like always.

Well, not really. If she was honest with herself, the pain she felt from Mason's betrayal, from his lies, was like nothing she'd ever felt before. Ethan had hurt her ego, mostly. She'd wanted to be good enough for someone like him-educated, intelligent, handsome. But really, she'd never loved him. This pain was all new. Searing.

Mason burst from the RV and ran toward her.

"Where have you been? I was worried." She threw her hands up to prevent his arms circling her shoulders. "You look awful, darlin'."

He moved his hand to cradle her face. From somewhere deep, she rallied her strength and held her hands in front of her.

"Don't. f.u.c.king. Touch. Me. Ever. Again," she said, the harsh tone surprising even her.

His face transformed. Wide, open concern turned to shadows in a flash. He understood the razor-sharp sincerity of her words. Understood there was no going back from this new place. Understood he'd lied.

"You aren't even going to let me explain, are you?" His voice was cold. So cold and emotionless. Her chest clenched at the hardness of his tone. She could do this. Walk away with your pride, Kevan.

"There's nothing to explain, Mason. You're all about the deal. This business is who you are, right? That's what you said. You, me, that was all novelty...diversion?" Her voice caught in her throat.

She swallowed down the tears threatening to take over again. Rigid. No emotion on his face. Saying nothing.

Please say something. Please tell me I'm wrong. Fight for me, Mason, please fight for me.

"Yeah. Sure, you were a distraction. It was fun, wasn't it, sweetheart?" He shrugged his shoulders.

His distant tone was a knife to her heart, tearing her all the way open. "You threw me under the bus, didn't you? Like I thought you would. Was that always the plan?" She tried to control her voice, but she was yelling. She smacked his chest, but he still just stood there.

"It doesn't matter what I say. You already know the answer, Kevan."

No, tell me you love me. Tell me the band doesn't matter. Tell me something.

"I'm all about the deal. It's who I am. I don't know any better, right?" He scrubbed his hand over his face and hung his head.

The tears were back, rivers of pain and anguish sliding down her face. "I think I could have loved you. But instead, you stomped on my heart with your five-hundred-dollar shoes," she whispered.

"You're so broken, darlin', nothing I do will ever change that." He looked up, his face shadowed and full of sadness. He turned and climbed into the RV.

"Where are you going?" She marched up after him. The dam had broken, and silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I'm leaving. They're all yours. I'm done. I don't need them that badly," he said. Kevan watched as the one man she had ever truly loved packed his bags and called a cab. "Keep the bus through the tour. Ben will get you home."

Mason stood close enough for their toes to touch. She hoped he couldn't feel her body shaking. He leaned forward and brushed his lips slowly across her cheek, and she let him.

"Don't ever let anyone tell you you're not good enough. You're an amazing woman." She felt his breath blowing against her cheek. "Good-bye, beautiful Kevan Landry."

Then she watched him walk away without a glance back. He was gone, but she whispered to the empty RV, "I wasn't truly broken until you broke me."

Chapter 21.

Mason stared at the road unfolding before him. His eyes ached from lack of sleep, and his throat burned from too much coffee. Thankfully, his heart no longer hurt. He'd managed to rip it out and toss it along the highway back to Oregon. Now it was just patched over with a welcome numbness.

He'd directed the cab driver to drop him off at the car lot, where he'd rented a sedan for the long drive back home. After an unforgiving ten-hour drive straight through the night, Mason pulled over at a rest stop when his eyes threatened to slam shut. He woke after a few restless hours of sleep dotted with images of Kevan screaming, crying, laughing, and pus.h.i.+ng him away. Each scene playing out differently, but always ending with her whispering the last bullet to his pummeled heart.

I wasn't truly broken until you broke me.

The words were punctured with too much pain to fix. Too much burn to put out. Her anguish had been so deep, he couldn't risk one look back at her before he'd left. There was no way they could have had a rational discussion about what she thought had happened. Her past would always be there to overshadow any of his rea.s.surances and demonstrations of love. She'd never be able to unpack the emotional baggage she clung to like armor.

Did you actually tell her you love her, f.u.c.kwit?

No, he'd skated right back into the old Mason, the Ice Man, and played it cool. Never said those all-important words, "I love you."

Kevan had had a lifetime of disappointment shoveled on her from everyone, especially men, letting her down over and over again. Mason realized he could add himself to her long list of disappointments.

Kevan's face before he turned away was frozen in his mind. The woman who was always so perfectly put together, from hair to toes, was a hot mess. He'd done that to her. And then he'd run, because he hadn't been able to handle her level of pain. In her mind, they were done before they'd even gotten started. In his mind, he was walking away from love.

Before he realized it, Mason was pulling onto his tree-lined street. He stopped at his gate and punched in the security code. Glancing up at the gla.s.s-and-timber remodeled home, once the symbol of his professional pinnacle, now made him s.h.i.+ver with loneliness. What was success and money worth if there was no one to share it with?

Now what was he going to do? Obviously he needed a plan B, since plan A had tanked. Did he hole up in his house and hide from the rest of the world? That wasn't really his style.

How was he going to get out of this s.h.i.+t hole he'd dug? He needed a new path. Once inside, Mason bypa.s.sed his extremely comfortable oversized chair and turned down the hall toward his study. He was already calling a number in his favorites before he sat down at his desk and turned on his computer.

"Hey, it's Mason. I need you to draft a new contract."

The next morning, Kevan pulled the gla.s.s diner door open, eyes wearily sweeping the crowded room for Dan Carver, the High Energy executive. When the tour had hit Las Vegas, she continued going through the motions-smiling when appropriate, scheduling tweetups, another meet and greet, a promotional stop at a local record store, and arranging the meeting with Dan.

The smell of breakfast-eggs, greasy sausage, and pancakes-a.s.sailed her nose. Even the Elvis-themed restaurant, filled with cheery red-vinyl booths set against a glossy black-and-white backdrop couldn't lift her sullen mood. She easily spotted Dan's red hair amongst the vacationing families, hardcore gamblers on benders, and businesspeople. She walked to his booth in the corner of the room, her limbs feeling disjointed and awkward, matching her feelings.

Dan smiled openly as he stood and shook her hand. "Good to see you again. Have to admit I'm curious as to what happened with Mason. His email was pretty cryptic. But I'm more than happy to work with you, Ms. Landry."

At least Mason hadn't advertised their fallout to everyone. But then he wasn't good at explaining anything to anyone.

Kevan smiled stiffly, trying to keep the anguish in her heart from flooding her face and tipping her hand. "You'll have to discuss that with Mr. Dillon."

She slid into the seat and glanced down at the tattered menu, knowing full well she wouldn't be able to stomach any food.

Dan's skeptical expression gave the impression that he knew more than he was saying. He smiled. "My understanding was that another commitment came up."

A young, perky waitress interrupted to take their orders. The distraction bought Kevan a few extra minutes to better formulate her answer. Lying wasn't her thing. And frankly, it was all too much-trying to deal with the heartache, do business, and get through the last couple of tour dates. The lack of sleep and fuzzy haze that seemed to follow her around made it difficult to focus long enough to create a believable lie.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she let the bitter liquid slide down her throat and into the acidic pool of her stomach. "He's a busy man. I'm sure it was something important."

His smile thinned, and his eyes narrowed. "Really? Because I've known Mason a long time, and he's not one to cancel at the last minute. Especially without an explanation."

No s.h.i.+t, buddy. I'd like an explanation, too.

Kevan sighed. f.u.c.k it. "Look, I'm trying to be professional, but I know you're friends. Honestly, Mason and I had a falling out. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't fun. But he believes in Manix Curse, like I do. So if we could get back to business-"

"Bulls.h.i.+t."

"Excuse me?" she sputtered.

He smiled over his coffee cup, took a sip, and set the cup down, slowly and deliberately. "I said 'bulls.h.i.+t.'"

She stood and reached down for her bag. "I can see this meeting is over-"

Dan reached out and wrapped his hand gently around her wrist. "No. It's not. Sit down." His smile looked sincere. "Please."

"I don't know what Mason told you, but I'm only here to discuss next fall's h.e.l.lfire tour with you. That's it." She sat back down. She needed this for the band. For herself.

The waitress brought her toast and Dan's breakfast, but she couldn't summon the energy to thank the overly peppy woman.

"He told me you're a game changer for him."

What the heck was he talking about? "What?"

That calm, soothing smile again. She didn't know if she wanted to hug him or poke him in the eye with her fork.

"In Medford. At first he acted cool and indifferent, but within a couple of minutes, he pretty much admitted that he cared about you."

Dan's word's banged around her head. He cared about you.

"So what?"

"I've known him for a long time, remember? He's never 'cared' about a woman. Never."

He cared about me?

"Well, that's just peachy. He doesn't really care, now." She stopped herself from going further and polluting Manix Curse business with her wrath.

"I thought you should know," he said, looking uncomfortable and grabbing some paper from his briefcase. "Shall we move on to business?"

Instead of acting resentful, he dropped any mention of Mason and got right to the deal. All in all, it was a good package for a new band, that included a percentage of ticket sales, travel, meals, and some co-promotion with several of the sponsors, as well as with other bands on the tour.

Chapter 22.

After taking a taxi back to the club, she stood in the living area of the tour bus and shared the details of the deal with the band. Her pulse raged, and she tried not to think of Mason and how the credit for the tour was really his marketing connections and genius. The band members reacted enthusiastically, hugging and yelling. Only Jax was a little less excited than the others.

"Dude, aren't you excited? A real tour." She nudged him with her elbow.

Jax smiled. "Yeah, of course. I'm just worried I've been away from work for too long. My client wait list is getting longer. But it's a great opportunity."

Kevan wasn't convinced, but thought he'd be okay once the money started rolling in. But honestly, she could hardly bring herself to care much beyond a superficial interest. "I'm sure it'll be good."

"Okay, Debbie Downer. You seriously need to snap out of it."

She drew back; the effort to hide her misery was getting more and more challenging. "I'm fine. And we were talking about you."

"We were, but now we're done." He motioned for her to follow him outside, where he turned and faced her. "You should call him, you know. We had a couple of interesting conversations, but he genuinely seemed into you. Maybe you mis-"

"What the f.u.c.k are you talking about, Jax? You talked to Mason about me? Who do you think you are?" She struggled to keep her voice down, clenching her fists so hard they ached.

Jax grabbed her shoulders and looked down into her eyes. "Calm down. I was making sure he wasn't f.u.c.king with you. I told him I'd kick his a.s.s if he did."

"You don't get to do that. My personal life is none of your business. And, for the record, I'm doing just freakin' fine." She turned and stomped back to her RV. Mason's RV.

Kevan hauled her sluggish body up the steps and collapsed at the table. She held her head in her hands. She'd tried to purge everything in the motor home that reminded her of Mason. But since the RV was actually his, the task was impossible. Lifting her head, she glanced around the room. Every corner held a ghost of him or a shadow of a memory with him. Laughing across from her at the table. Pressing up behind her as she made breakfast. Holding her hands against the wall as he ravished her mouth with his talented and punis.h.i.+ng tongue.

She stood and reached up over the stove, searching for the bottle of Patrn Mason kept there. Grabbing the bottle and the shot gla.s.s he'd bought her in Eugene, she slammed back two quick shots, one after the other. She welcomed the sharp burn down her throat and the warmth that instantly spread through her belly.

Her head swam after the third shot of tequila, her eyes watery and so heavy. Maybe this was the answer to actually getting some sleep. Padding over to the bathroom, she rummaged through her bag and found a couple of over-the-counter sleeping tabs, popped them in her mouth, and swallowed them down with the remaining bit of booze.