for several months.
“Am I gonna have to brown bag you the next time we fuck?” I asked crudely. I know you’re probably thinking I was being an asshole. That I deserved a kick to the dick for such a rude comment. But I could say shit like that to Viv because she wouldn’t take it seriously. She knew I didn’t mean it. It was how we rolled.
Or maybe not.
“That’s a really messed up thing to say, Cole,” she said quietly and I instantly felt like a jerk.
“I didn’t mean it, baby. You know I think you’re beautiful. Junked up nose or not,” I promised.
“You are such a fuck face,” Vivian said with venom. I thought I’d been pretty nice. What was her problem?
“And I didn’t break it. It’s just bruised. A little swollen. No brown bag necessary.” She sounded pissed, which wasn’t new. And normally I’d goad her a little, just to get the explosion I liked so much. But something felt off about her.
And call it an ingrained survival instinct, but I thought better than to pour more fuel on a smoldering fire right now.
“Does it hurt?” I asked, trying to smooth things over.
Shit with Vivian had gotten complicated lately. Or maybe it was just me. I was a fucking mess.
Things with the band weren’t the greatest. The radio interview had been a disaster. Jose had been right, Molly, the DJ, had been more interested in whether I had a girlfriend, than the tour we were on. And after we were done, she offered to take me into the break room so she could suck my cock.
I didn’t take her up on it, just so we’re all straight. I hadn’t even been tempted. There was something really unappealing about a girl with a Miss Piggy tattoo on her neck who offered to let you spooge on her back. So I had respectfully declined.
While we waited in the lobby for Jose, Jordan had turned on me. He claimed I had hogged the interview time. Was he not in the same room as I had been in? How could he miss Molly’s blatant come-ons? I couldn’t be the only one who had caught the innuendo behind the question: “Do you like it in the dark or with the lights on? Performing that is.”
“You think you’re the fucking star of the show, Cole! You need a reality check! This is a band! There are four of us! We’re all equal here! If you can’t remember that then maybe I need to remind you,” Jordan had snarled and I felt myself getting pissed.
“I can’t help it if she was more interested in my cock then our music! Why the fuck is that my fault?” I had yelled.
Jordan had tried to punch me then and being the ninja that I am, I had dodged it. But I hadn’t expected the sucker punch when I bent to pick up my phone that had fallen out of my pocket.
Next thing I knew Jordan and I were both bleeding and the frightened little receptionist was threatening to call the police if we didn’t leave.
Maysie and Jose had separated us before it escalated further. And when Jose had me cordoned off in the back of the bus, he took his opportunity to remind me of my “options.”
“They don’t understand that you’re the one the public cares about, Cole. This will only get worse. Jordan already resents you. The bigger you get, the more those three guys are going to try to hold you back. You need to think about the big picture here and what’s best for you long-term,” Jose had said and I didn’t want to hear it.
Jose and his “go out on your own” pep talks were fucking with my head. And Jordan’s negative attitude was making the possibility look pretty damn appealing.
Despite the testosterone overload Jordan and I had made peace and we entered into an uneasy truce. That is until our publicity photo shoot the next day. And then shit hit the fan all over again.
Yeah, so a bunch of the pictures were of me. Yeah, the guys had felt slighted and felt like crap about it. But what was I supposed to do? Tell them no? Why didn’t they see that if people liked me, they liked the band?
It resulted in me getting the silent
“Am I gonna have to brown bag you the next time we fuck?” I asked crudely. I know you’re probably thinking I was being an asshole. That I deserved a kick to the dick for such a rude comment. But I could say shit like that to Viv because she wouldn’t take it seriously. She knew I didn’t mean it. It was how we rolled.
Or maybe not.
“That’s a really messed up thing to say, Cole,” she said quietly and I instantly felt like a jerk.
“I didn’t mean it, baby. You know I think you’re beautiful. Junked up nose or not,” I promised.
“You are such a fuck face,” Vivian said with venom. I thought I’d been pretty nice. What was her problem?
“And I didn’t break it. It’s just bruised. A little swollen. No brown bag necessary.” She sounded pissed, which wasn’t new. And normally I’d goad her a little, just to get the explosion I liked so much. But something felt off about her.
And call it an ingrained survival instinct, but I thought better than to pour more fuel on a smoldering fire right now.
“Does it hurt?” I asked, trying to smooth things over.
Shit with Vivian had gotten complicated lately. Or maybe it was just me. I was a fucking mess.
Things with the band weren’t the greatest. The radio interview had been a disaster. Jose had been right, Molly, the DJ, had been more interested in whether I had a girlfriend, than the tour we were on. And after we were done, she offered to take me into the break room so she could suck my cock.
I didn’t take her up on it, just so we’re all straight. I hadn’t even been tempted. There was something really unappealing about a girl with a Miss Piggy tattoo on her neck who offered to let you spooge on her back. So I had respectfully declined.
While we waited in the lobby for Jose, Jordan had turned on me. He claimed I had hogged the interview time. Was he not in the same room as I had been in? How could he miss Molly’s blatant come-ons? I couldn’t be the only one who had caught the innuendo behind the question: “Do you like it in the dark or with the lights on? Performing that is.”
“You think you’re the fucking star of the show, Cole! You need a reality check! This is a band! There are four of us! We’re all equal here! If you can’t remember that then maybe I need to remind you,” Jordan had snarled and I felt myself getting pissed.
“I can’t help it if she was more interested in my cock then our music! Why the fuck is that my fault?” I had yelled.
Jordan had tried to punch me then and being the ninja that I am, I had dodged it. But I hadn’t expected the sucker punch when I bent to pick up my phone that had fallen out of my pocket.
Next thing I knew Jordan and I were both bleeding and the frightened little receptionist was threatening to call the police if we didn’t leave.
Maysie and Jose had separated us before it escalated further. And when Jose had me cordoned off in the back of the bus, he took his opportunity to remind me of my “options.”
“They don’t understand that you’re the one the public cares about, Cole. This will only get worse. Jordan already resents you. The bigger you get, the more those three guys are going to try to hold you back. You need to think about the big picture here and what’s best for you long-term,” Jose had said and I didn’t want to hear it.
Jose and his “go out on your own” pep talks were fucking with my head. And Jordan’s negative attitude was making the possibility look pretty damn appealing.
Despite the testosterone overload Jordan and I had made peace and we entered into an uneasy truce. That is until our publicity photo shoot the next day. And then shit hit the fan all over again.
Yeah, so a bunch of the pictures were of me. Yeah, the guys had felt slighted and felt like crap about it. But what was I supposed to do? Tell them no? Why didn’t they see that if people liked me, they liked the band?
It resulted in me getting the silent
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