Chapter 73 : Drummer Boys Remember Cocktail Waitresses

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Bodie

"Baby, why you gotta be like this?" I murmur soft into the phone to Arabella.

"I told you, I don't do well alone, Bodie," her voice is pure venom over the music wherever she is. "I told you...you should have come with me."

"You know I couldn't do that. Soundcrush has to play the Call-Out. We'll be back together next week when your acting gig is over and you come back on tour. Come on, don't make me crazy, messin' around with other guys."

"Bodie, you're asking for too much! You are so selfish!" she yells, and the line goes dead.

I stare at my phone. Huh, this is why people throw these things. That girl is fuckin' with my head hard.

So much for our "romance." She's been gone twenty-four hours and pictures of her raising hell with movie stars and randoms are all over her Instagram, and rumors of our "break-up" are already spreading like ebola over the internet, and Marcy is already on my ass because Moran is already on hers.

Marcy told me I need to make keeping my "girlfriend" happy in our "relationship" my "number one priority." Which is code for—Moran doesn't want his ex-Disney princess looking like a little hoochie on six guys at once, and I'm somehow supposed to shut that shit down. What can I do from Martha's Vineyard when Arabella is filming in New York?

Fuck Marcy and Moran anyway.

They think this shit don't hurt?

I thought Bells and I were workin' up a good thing. It's been a little crazy, sure, but I've been trying to dial back the party this past week. As best I can.

Bells is just crazy fun to be around, so it's hard to dial back very much.

Yeah, we got that crazy love, I guess. The actual lovin' between us has been pretty fucktastic—hot and sweet. Well, what I can remember of it. The nights are sometimes a blur. She's also got a pretty voice I like to hear singing in my shower—what I can remember of it. Mornings are sometimes a blur. Not to mention she's not a bit damn hard to look at—all made up, or without a stitch of makeup. Well, to be honest, most of the time she doesn't have makeup on is...yep, you guessed it...a little bit of a blur.

But I know...for sure...she smells really pretty in my bed. That's not blurry.

Yeah, Bells suits me fine, and I haven't had a special girl since we started this crazy Soundcrush ride—and I thought...hell, I thought Arabella and I were already past the "fake" part.

I know we're not Madam or Traykat, but I thought we were workin' on gettin' real, at least.

Maybe not. She won't listen to a damn word I say. Bells wants what she wants, when she wants it. Right now, she wants to party, or maybe she wants to punish me. Fuck if I know.

God, I wish Adam was here. He'd know how to talk to her. I pretty much just tease, tickle, and screw her.

I stare out at the beach, wandering what the fuck I should do now. Part of me feels like...just cut her loose. Easy come, easy go. But Moran is expecting something from all of us in the Save Soundcrush-from-a-six-figure-lawsuit-deal, and being Bells boyfriend is my part of the bargain.

I sigh and dutifully call her back.

She answers immediately. "What?" she snaps. The front door bell in the rental mansion is ringing but I ignore it. Someone else will get it.

"Don't be like that, Baby. It's fucking with me, you there and me here. It hurts when you hang up on me," I tell her.

She softens a little. "I just miss you, Baby...and I get crazy sometimes..."

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