“No, but you really should see it.” Cash went and grabbed my tablet from the coffee table and pulled it up. He handed it to me and I looked down at the screen.
The video was labeled “Tierney OFFICIAL VIDEO for Guilty Pleasure”. Tate was standing behind me, watching over my shoulder. I felt him stiffen as he read the title.
“Uh, I had nothing to do with this. This is the first time I’m hearing about all of this,” he stammered. I sighed deeply and pushed play.
The beat started first. The black screen faded to a soft purple. As it faded in, a flesh-colored blur came into view, and as it adjusted to a clearer image, there she was, in all her glory.
Her mouth opened and she began singing some bullshit pop song about it being okay to masturbate to her image. The video was just clips of her in only the heart pasties as she did provocative things with items that looked like dicks and vaginas. The longer I watched the more disgusted I got. It finally ended with a close up of her face as she sang the last few lines, and then an over exaggerated wink.
The moment it was done I thrust the tablet away from me.
“I told you it was something else,” Cash smirked, shaking his head.
“Personally, I liked it,” Dallas said, his face downright gleeful. The brother I had experienced these last few years flashed right in front of me.
“I’ll tell you what, if she had acted like that when we were together, I wouldn’t have cheated,” Ronny snickered. I whipped my head around and he visibly cringed. “Sorry, maybe that one was a bit too far.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“We should cash in on her success. Cover some old Vagabond Baby’s songs,” Dallas suggested. His normal self returning. I relaxed slightly. I had grown too accustomed to the good Dallas. I couldn’t go back to the shitty one.
“We can’t. She owns the majority of shares in it. She won’t let us. We tried,” Cash sighed.
“Well, say what you want about her image. She may act stupid but she’s smarter than we give her credit. That sucks,” Dallas commented.
“Can we go rehearse now? I really want to put that image out of my head,” I shuddered. They all mumbled agreements and we headed off to jam for a few hours. As soon as we were all in position and playing, I forced Tierney out of my mind and put my all into my singing. Suddenly, there was an audience in front of me, rather than music equipment and furniture.
Halfway through we took a break. I was sweating so hard you would think I really had been on a stage under the brutal lights.
Everyone went their separate ways to get drinks, food, or use the bathroom. I hunched over, clutching my stool while I caught my breath. I heard steps behind me and turned my head slightly to see Tate standing beside me.
“You okay? Here, take this,” he extended a bottle of cold water to me. I stood up straight and took it. I smiled half-heartedly and opened it, downing the entire bottle in two gulps. I tilted my head back down and handed him the empty bottle. “Better?”
I nodded and looked him up and down. He was sweating just as hard as I was. He had taken off his shirt sometime during practice. I could see a sleek sheen of sweat over his tattoos.
“You’re really going heavy today. I know we’ve got our show tomorrow, but still. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just really into it today.”
“Are you sure it’s not the whole Tierney thing?” he asked, crossing his arms and cocking an eyebrow at me. His face didn’t show any hint of humor or cockiness. He was genuinely concerned. I frowned and pushed my hair back. It was getting long. I reached for the hair tie around my wrist. I put my hair up quickly and shrugged.
“Maybe. It’s just...” I glanced around to make sure we were still alone. “Remember when I told you I saw her a few months ago?”
His eyes rose in remembrance.
“Yeah?”
“Well, she told me some stuff that was concerning. Seeing her like this... it’s just sad. I can’t help but wonder if she’s back on the drugs. Or worse,” I gulped. The face of Jules Daly, an important person at her record label, popped into my mind. I shivered, remembering that he wasn’t the man he seemed. To me, he wasn’t some hot shot executive’s kid. He was Tierney’s rapist and drug dealer.
“Are you going to try to talk to her?” he asked, causing me to come back from my dark thoughts.
“I don’t know. She seems like she’s beyond any help I could give her. She wouldn’t take my help if I offered.”
Just then our other band members came back from break together, animatedly talking.
“Are you fucking serious? I always wondered if those two had a thing behind my back. Pot meet fucking kettle,” Ronny snarled, shaking his head.
“You don’t know that. It’s been a year. It was just announced,” Cash argued.
“What was announced?” I asked, looking at them. They all seemed rather bored with whatever had caught their attention only moments before. Dallas smirked.
“You remember that guy from the label that was always around, acting like our babysitter?”
“Jules Daly,” Cash clarified. My blood ran cold. What did he do? “Him and Tierney are a thing now, apparently.”
Oh my God. It was true. All of it. True
