Chapter 38: Bad Girls Have A Cut List

Mac

I think I may have fucked up.

I didn't realize I was fucking up, until I saw Adam's face in the mirror. The look in his eyes when he saw me topless with Sawyer's hands squishing my boobs—there was devastation, disappointment,and then it hardened into rage. All at once, I hated that I caused those feelings in him.

I know he and I feel very differently about my nudity. To me, it just is. So many people have seen me naked or nearly naked in the last five years—stylists, photographers, trainers, choreographers, fans, fanboys—if I let myself feel something about that I would feel exposed all the time.

I would feel exactly like I felt with Adam's devastated, disappointed, raging eyes on me and Sawyer.

So I can't feel anything about that. Adam needs to understand that. I have a job to do. And he's lying to himself if he thinks part of my job is not to use my sex appeal to Soundcrush's advantage.

Adam should understand this better than anybody. Adam didn't love me or even know me, the first time he fucked me. He desired me. So much that it overwhelmed his morals and his reason. I desired him too—I'm not saying I didn't. Adam is fucking sexy—maybe the sexiest guy I ever met because somehow, despite all the girls that want him, all the photos and video and images of himself he's confronted with on a daily basis...he still doesn't know how sexy he really is.

But I know... he's goddamn sexy.

And so am I. For the moment, at least.

That's part of what we both are.

Objects of desire.

In this industry, you have to seize every advantage you have and fight to stay on top. Right now we are young and sexy. The longer we stay hot musically, the higher the chances that our reputation will endure. We all want what Skid Marcs has...a musical legacy. So I'll do my part to make it happen for us.

So why do I feel guilty about what happened in my closet? Why should I feel guilty because of Adam's old-fashioned views? He wouldn't have batted an eye if it was Tamara squeezing my girls instead of Sawyer. To me there's no difference. I mean, I had sex with Sawyer a couple of times way back when we first got to LA, but I had sex with a lot of guys, trying to get over Adam, who was having sex with a lot of girls.

That's why I sent him home to cool off. He was pissed and I was rapidly becoming pissed and we can't do what we've done in the past...have a big fight and call it off. We love each other too much for that now. And how could I even explain that to Babycakes?

Sorry sweet baby, your dad yelled at me because I let some random tape my boobs and then I punched him in the throat and now you're the product of a broken home that I didn't even officially move into yet.

Yeah, that sounds ridiculous even to me. Huh. I wonder if our fights were that ridiculous the last three times we broke it off?

Getting ready has calmed me down. I went with a different outfit than I had planned. It's slightly more modest—the silver booty shorts are high waisted and cover a little more ass and the matching bra-top didn't require taping because it has built-in lift. Plus the tassles hanging off cover more.

It was something Tamara picked up for the country music awards two years ago. Adam had some friends from the Nashville scene that were going and the whole Soundcrush gang decided at the last minute to attend for fun. I chose this to catch Adam's eye because we were on a break, but the shorts were a little loose and we didn't have time for the alterations, so we went with another wardrobe choice.

Now, they fit perfectly. Actually for the first time in a couple of weeks, I feel pretty sexy. I've definitely filled out a little, but in this outfit, it works. I blew out my hair and straightened it—it's just easier if Tamara isn't here to tame all my natural crazy curl into sexy curl. Before I left for LA, I refreshed my spray tan too. So yeah. I feel pretty confident, despite the tiny pooch that's pushing against these spandex pants.

I'm completely ready and waiting when Adam texts:

Out front.

I hate being locked out.

Of your house.

Of your trust.

Please let me in.

Let's fix this.

I don't even hesitate because I want to fix it, too. When I open the door, Adam is looking about ten times sexier than me in black jeans, a light grey ab-clinging tank with a slightly darker button down thrown over it, front open and sleeves rolled up past the elbows. His wrists are braceleted. I fucking love those bracelets.

"Preacher," I say coolly.

"My Love," he replies, his eyes locked onto mine.

He hasn't even looked at my body. I thrust a booted leg forward and stomp, to catch his attention. His eyes trail down my spangly, silver outfit and his lips curl. Then he bites them when he takes in the cowboy boots.

Yeah, I'm a Nashville boy's dream tonight.

"Nice outfit," he adds.

He lifts a huge basket of melon-colored tulips.

"They're potted. I know you hate dying flowers."

"Why tulips?" I don't really have a favorite flower, but he's right—I prefer to see them growing than dying in a vase.

"They symbolize a perfect love," he says.

I sigh. "Something to hope for?"

"No. Something to pray for, and work for, and fight for."

I'm rendered speechless by Adam's intensity as he says these words. The truth of them thrum through me, just as strongly as if he were striking down hard on his base and it was reverberating to my core.

We both say it at the same time—mine rushed, flooded with emotion, his low, weighted with deep regret.

"I'm sorry."

"—I shouldn't have lost my temper—"

"—I didn't know Sawyer helping me dress would bother you, you've seen male stylists do that before—"

He nods easily at my words but he keeps going. "Yelling at you like that...I don't...that's not the man I want to be. Not to you, not to our kid. I...I prayed about it. I know that maybe sounds dumb, but I did. I prayed for strength and peace. I want to be...stronger and...more serene...than that. For you. For us."

I blow out a slow breath. "I don't know why I like that so much, but I do. When you say things like that...I feel safe."

"I know that, Mac," he says slowly. "But the thing is...who I am...the way I'm built inside...you don't get to pick and choose my programming. The values I hold that make you feel safe are the same ones that sometimes make you feel trapped. You won't like me saying this...but you can't expect me to be okay with finding you with Sawyer like that."

"I didn't think, Adam. It was nothing to me," I say.

"I know, but here's the thing: I'm yours. I'm doing everything I can to make you feel safe, secure in us, happy, empowered. You are my priority. And if I'm yours, that also makes you mine, and you have to care about my feelings, too. I get that your body and your sex-appeal is your part of your power. But I felt...enraged...when you let Sawyer put his hands on you like that today. Because to me, your body is the temple where I worship. It's sacred and private. And you told me...we were sacred to you, too."

"We are...but that—with Sawyer—it wasn't sexual," I say quickly.

He tips his head in disagreement. "Not to you, maybe. But to Sawyer? He wants you."

I blink. I would never have thought that. Sawyer and I ended bluntly. I was completely indifferent; and I didn't think his ego would have him holding out for more.

If that's the case, there's more I need to say to Adam about that right now. I take the basket of flowers from Adam with murmured thanks and draw him into the house. I lead him to the living room and we sit.

"Back in the early LA days...I picked up Sawyer in a club because he reminded me of you. I saw Sawyer a couple of times, but sleeping with him made me feel terrible, because it only made me think of you. I dropped him after the second time we had sex. I told him I just wasn't into it. He was already fast friends with Leed. They like each other a helluva lot more than Sawyer and I do. He's never hit on me once since he started working for Leed—for us, I guess— and I don't think of him that way—at all. But I realize...now that you and I are together...I shouldn't use him for a dresser. It's..." I search for a word that will resonate with Adam. "disrespectful to you. Especially if you think he still looks at me like that."

Adam rubs his beard, a strained smile on his face. "Thank you for telling me that. As much as I don't like hearing about your ex-lovers, I think it's important that we let each other know if people in our circle are people we've slept with. It fucking sucks to be blind-sided with that."

I close my eyes and nod. "He already told you we slept together."

Adam shrugged. "To be fair, I asked."

I blow out a long breath. "Okay. So...you want the list?"

He nods slowly. "Not fanboys. Not randoms. But people we both know...yeah...I guess I better have it."

"You already know about the movie star, the rock star, and the reality tv guy..."

Adam rolls his eyes, "Yeah, they were kind of hard to miss. Who else?"

"Brian Thompson...the photographer...he's done some covers for us...just once. And Reece Oliver...for a few months, but not serious, of course."

"Reece from the label?" he frowns.

"Yeah, but back when he worked at IHeartRadio. Not since he came on our team. He's been nothing but professional since."

"Okay. Anybody else?"

"Grayson Puckett—twice."

"The frontman of Broken Spoke?"

I nod. Adam pulls in his lips, and I know what he's thinking. "I didn't know he was married. I hooked up with him early on. Both times after industry parties, then I didn't see him for a couple of months, until Coachella that first year we played it. He introduced me to his wife as cool as shit. I checked the internet and realized he'd been married for four years and she had just had a baby a couple of months before he fucked me. I confronted him when she wasn't around and he shrugged and said, I figured you knew. Do me a favor and don't make a scene, okay? You and me were just having fun, and my wife isn't at her best right now. Our kid is only four months old and she's having a tough time bouncing back to sexy."

Adam rubs my back. "What a douche-bag. I'm sorry, Sweetheart."

I shrug. "Feel sorry his wife, not me."

"It goes without saying, I will never do you like that. You know that right?"

"Well technically, we won't be married, so no, you couldn't do me like that," I remind him.

His jaw tenses but he sighs and says, "Married or not, I'm committed. I'm faithful. Through thick and thin. Through hot pregnancy sex and through whatever comes after Babycakes is born, okay? I don't just love you because you love to fuck. If you don't feel like fucking for awhile post pregnancy, we will still be  in love. We'll love each other through it. Me and you and Babycakes. Okay?"

"Jesus, Preacher," I tilt my head back and blink frantically before tears spill over. "What the fuck are you saying shit like that for? I have on going-out make-up!"

He laughs and strides to the guest bathroom, returning with some tissues. I growl at him some more as I dab at my eyes. Once I've damned up the tears with a few more curse words, he clears his throat and says. "So that's your list of people I know that you've slept with?"

"There's one more..." I wince. "One that's sort of...worse than all the others. But it's the one I really need to tell you about. A friend of yours."

Adam swallows and closes his eyes. "Okay."

"Don't worry," I say gently. "It's not that bad." I know what he's thinking.

He opens his eyes and they are burning. With relief, I think. "I'm glad," he whispers and then the relief spreads to a grin. "You would have had to love me through my freak-out, if you were about to tell me you fucked Trace. But we would have gotten through it."

"I have never, will never. Not Trace. Not Bodie. Okay?" I assure him. "But I did sleep with Mike Rawlins."

Adam blinks. "Really? Of all the people I thought you would say, he wasn't it."

"Do you still keep in touch?" I ask. Mike Rawlins was at UGA with us. Adam's friend from home...the one that tagged Adam with his Preacher nickname.

He nods. "Yeah. He's back home in Nashville. Actually, I went to his wedding last year. Got married in my dad's church. Mike and his wife—they have a kid on the way, too." He smiles at me. "Wow, Shorty. Rawlins? I didn't even know you knew him." He hesitates. "Before...or...after you and I started sleeping together?"

"Before. I actually only got to know him because..." I twist my hands, not sure I want to really admit this. "I saw you and Mike together on campus sometimes. I didn't know you knew Leed then, or I wouldn't have even bothered getting to know Mike."

Adam leans back on the couch and gives me a narrow look. "Are you telling me you were trying to get up next to me by hooking up with Mike?"

I hang my head embarrassed. "Adam, I sat right behind you in Freshman Music Theory all first semester. I was totally crushing on you."

He stares at me, disbelieving. "You were not in that class. I would have noticed."

I shook my head. "My hair was dyed pale blue. I wore it in puffy pigtails. I had a nose piercing, and fake eyelashes and black lipstick. I hardly ever wore a shirt where you couldn't see my bra, which is probably why you don't remember my face if you ever did look my way. School girl skirts and combat boots. Vampire pale and goth attitude to boot. I was totally don't-give-a-fuck-what-you-think-Row-del-Marco-wild."

Adam is staring at me like I have two heads. "No way, Shorty. I swear to you, since the first time I saw you...you've been all I've ever seen. I would have noticed you, no matter what color your hair was."

"Nope, you looked straight through me. But...you were always so nice to that girl you sat with—Ainsley Carpenter? She played the harp, remember? Even at parties I went to with Mike trying to meet you, you never looked at me twice. All you saw was virginal Ainsley—that pretty little natural blonde with the shy smile and cut-offs and and Rainbow sandals and the cute little t-shirts with the zippy slogans. I sat behind you that whole semester, listening to your conversations with her."

"She was from Memphis. She was homesick. I was just trying to be nice."

"I know," Mac smiled "I was there, stalking your every conversation. I had never had a guy talk to me like you talked to Ainsley. I wanted that bad. I wanted you bad. When I realized you were the same Adam that was in Leed's band, I begged him to let me come play with you guys. When he said yes, I washed my hair fifteen times in one day to get the blue out. I took the stud out of my nose. Ainsley lived on my hall...I went through her laundry and stole one of her shirts to wear to practice because I didn't have anything but scary-hot clothes. The smile was mine though...just without the black lipstick." I shrug, nervously. What if Adam thinks...I tricked him, way back at the start?

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he whispers. "You came to that Soundcrush practice because of me?"

"Yeah. Why do you think I jumped you first thing? I had been crushing on you so hard for a whole semester. It was my one shot, because I thought once you got to know me...you might not like me. Not as much as Ainsley. But then we had sex...and it was..." I swallowed heavily. "It was more than I thought it would be. Way more. It was...almost too much. It scared me. It wasn't just sex. It was...a connection like I never felt before."

"Unfuckingbelievable," he whispers. "I thought it was just me. Mac, that first night with you...it changed me. It changed everything I thought I wanted. You were it for me. No matter how many girls I slept with after, I've never felt anyone like I feel you."

"I know," I whisper. "Don't you see, Adam? You are it for me, too. I fell in love with your kindness and your decency before you even knew who I was. And if we fuck this up—if I fuck this up—I'll spend the rest of my life miserable. That's why I'm so scared of vows and commitment. I don't know how this works—being in a real relationship.

"Believe me, you don't want to marry someone that doesn't know right from wrong. I need time. Time to figure out how to do this. I didn't even think today—that letting Sawyer help me dress might be wrong. I was just pissed off and frustrated because nothing fit right and I yelled at him to come help me and he did. That's all. It was only when you walked in, and I saw how it affected you, that it felt...wrong. And I'm sorry for that. But I'm going to do a million more wrong things between now and the time I'm good enough for you, if I ever am. Because you and I aren't the same."

Adam is still staring at me in disbelief. He looks away, then back at me. He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me toward him. His hands wrap gently into my hair.

"We are exactly the same, MacKenna. We are both in love with one another, and we are both flawed people that will make mistakes. You may have made a mistake with Sawyer, but you've done everything right since then, and I've made so many mistakes today. I was angry with you and you were calm. You tried to explain about the note, and I didn't give you the space. I came to apologize, but you accepted my apology and did me one better—you are blowing me away with your honesty and openness. " He pulls me to him, his lips pressed to my temple. "It fucking kills me to hear you say you aren't good enough. You are so good for me. You make me want to be a better man."

Tears are flowing now. Mine and his.

I make a strangled sound of frustration and swipe at my eyes again, pushing him away playfully. "Okay, shut up. You are going to mess up my makeup and we are still going out. So help me dry these tears by giving me your fucking list of bitches I need to cut."

He smiles. "Well...I'll start at the other end. There was...Ainsley..."

"A-ha, I knew it!" I shriek, trying to lighten the mood. "Was she a virgin?"

He gives me a dirty look.

"She was, wasn't she? You popped that cherry, didn't you?"

"Jesus, Mac." He's not denying.

"That's a yes," I say smugly. "Before or after me?"

He snorts. "Are you kidding? Before. There was no one after, not once, while we were still at school. When would I have had time? If I wasn't in class or we weren't practicing or playing a gig, I was with you every spare moment..."

I smile. "We did have a good run, that first time. Wait...did you fade that poor girl for me? After you took her virginity?"

He runs a hand through his hair and drops his head back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, I guess I kind of did."

"Yay!" I cheer. "I don't have to cut her; you did it for me." Adam does his best not to laugh, but he can't hold back a snort of amusement.

"Who else?"

"Uhhhmmmm...Tamara's friend Lecy? I was with her for a few months the first year in LA. You didn't notice."

"I noticed, I just pretended not to," I confess. "So far you aren't surprising me, Adam. Ainsley and Lecy were already on my cut list. Who else?"

He's looking straight ahead, refusing to look at me. "Does Callie Capriati surprise you?"

"Oh my god, really?" That does fucking surprise me. She's a pop star and both her celebrity and her reputation in bed rival mine. I can't believe Adam slept with her.

The label kept putting her on red carpets with Trace, trying to encourage a romance for publicity, but all that really came of it was that someone overheard something catty she said about me and the tabloids made us into rivals. I could have given a fuck less what she said at the time...but I could never understand why she was talking shit about me. I was nothing but nice to her when she was hanging on Trace. Now I realize...she must have picked up on the fact that we actually were rivals—when it came to Adam.

"How was she?" I tease him.

He sighs. "I was hoping she'd burn you out of my system, but honestly, she was nowhere, beside you."

I kiss his cheek. "God, you are so smart to say that, Preacher."

"It's true," he assures me.

"I love you," I tell him.

"You've said that all of five times and now you say it in response to me telling you I fucked your rival?"

I shrug. "I'm a catty bitch, what can I say? And if I'm better than her, I don't have to cut her, either. Who else?"

He grins, but it fades quickly..."I think there's only one more that you know—wait that's not true, there might be one other. You know Landon Alderson from MTV, right?"

"Oh my god you switched lanes?"

"Ha-ha."

"Fucked his wife?" I suggest helpfully.

"His daughter...the Instragram star, not the fashion designer."

"Mmmmm, that's hardly better," I growl. "She's like fifteen, Adam."

"She was nineteen at the time, I assure you. I made her show me her fucking ID," he grins.

"Okay, I guess that's alright then," I concede. It's not really. She's prettier than me. And younger. Bella Alderson stays on my cut list. "Okay, who's the last one?"

Adam grimaces. "This one I'm ashamed of...and Trace doesn't know...it was just one time...I swear I think she roofied me..."

"Oh fuck no!" I screech, springing to my knees. " Not Molly Banks!"

He nods regretfully.

"Goddammit, Adam! I hate her," I hiss.

"Well, I don't exactly love her, either..."

"Except you did," I snap, leaping up and trying to walk off my anger.

"There was nothing loving about it, I promise," he says quietly.

I turn, evil rising. "Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me!"

"Sweetheart, the point of this is not to hear the gruesome details. The point is, these people are in our pasts but they still exist in our present and we need to lay some ground rules on how we interact with them so they don't divide us."

"Well, we don't have to worry about that skank Molly Banks because she's dead when I see her." I seethe.

He laughs. "Really, Shortcake? She's the one you're jealous of?"

I stop mid-fume. "Jealous?" I mouth the word, tasting it to see if it's right. "Jealous? No. I don't think I'm jealous. I don't think you want to be with her. I think I'm fucking furious that she would even think about putting her nasty restraints and riding crops on you. She was around enough to know..." I stop.

"Know what?" he probes.

I stride over to him and straddle him, kissing him hard, breaking it swiftly. "That you have always been mine. Fucking cunt. I will kill her if she ever looks at you again."

He smiles an angelic, satisfied smile. "And there you are. Right where I was when I saw you with Sawyer today."

"Oooooooohhhhh," I say, a strange fluttering around my heart. I get it now. If I ever saw Adam touch Molly Banks after knowing what happened between them, I would freak right the fuck out on both of them. Hair would be torn out. Balls would be kneed. All ten of my claws would be employed. "You actually held back today, didn't you? You were much angrier than you let on."

"Yeah," he agrees, his hands rubbing my booty-shorted ass. "And maybe I'm a caveman for feeling like this...but you being pregnant makes it so much worse. You're not just my woman, you're carrying my child. Even though I was angry with you, I wanted to cut that motherfucker's hands off today, just so he could never again touch what is mine. It's not that I think I own you, but it's just like you said. You are mine. Babycakes is mine. Mine to love, mine to protect, mine forever."

I tag him in the shoulder. "Stop making me cry," I blink furiously, trying to focus."Okay, ground rules. Never touch these assholes except handshakes and stupid fucking LA air-kisses. Never ever remove clothing in the presence of these assholes. Never post to these asshole's social media. Never say or do anything that makes them think they have a chance in hell of coming around again."

"Those are good rules," Adam agrees. "I'd like to add, never drink with these assholes, if the other one of us isn't there. And..." he squints. "Never dance with these assholes, because dancing in a club is basically fucking with clothes on."

"Yeah, okay. Good additions," I agree.

Adam clears his throat. "What about potential assholes?"

"What are potential assholes?"

"Somebody that's obviously coming onto one of us."

I mull it over. "Same rules. But we don't have to tell each other about every person that flirts. Otherwise we'd just be pissing each other off constantly."

"Okay. I can live with that. But if a guy is pushing up on you and not taking the brush-off, I want to fucking know about it." There's a warning in his voice.

"Agreed." I scrape my fingers through his beard. "Can we go dancing now, lover?"

He takes my hands down from his face. "One more thing. Phone rules. If we know the other reaching out, we should make a priority to take that call or respond to the text."

I nod. "Yeah, you're right. My phone was in the other room today, but I still in the wrong. I knew you were worried, because Leed called and made Sawyer pass me his phone and he yelled for five minutes for scaring him and scaring you. I was so pissed off at his scolding, I hung up on him. And I didn't call back you because he told me I caused a fight between you two. Did you really tell him to prepare to get fucked up when you got back?"

"Fuck if I know what I said, I lost it on him." Adam makes a vague frustrated sound. "Maybe we need Leed rules, not phone rules."

I laugh. "And that's where we end this conversation and go get horny together in public."

Adam grabs my hips, keeping me from rising. "Shortcake, at some point, we have to tell him. That he's not your life companion anymore, and you're not going to be his surrogate part-time baby-momma. That we are having a family of our own, and making a life together."

I sigh heavily. "Maybe we could all move in here? There's plenty of room..."

"I hope you're fucking joking," Adam growls.

I wasn't really, but I wasn't holding out any hope that Adam would leap at the suggestion, either. I close my eyes and picture Adam's house, us eating on the deck, cleaning up the kitchen, spooning in the bed, Adam coaxing a blonde-haired blue-eyed baby boy to walk  down by the duck pond. That's where I want to be, but then I picture Leed, lonely in this detached, serene, silent spa of a house. Dread pools uncomfortably in my stomach, making me feel nauseous.

"Yeah, bad joke," I lie.

Adam senses my unease and he nuzzles my neck, kissing and sucking softly, changing the subject. "Did I tell you how fucking sexy you are in the boots? When I take you home tonight, I definitely want you riding me, cowgirl. Wearing these boots."

"Does regular or reverse feel better?" I'm actually quite curious as to his technical preference.

"I like to watch your face when you come," he says immediately. "The feels always trump the dick feels."

"I used to hate it when you said stuff like that," I remind him. "Now it makes me melt."

"You've come a long way," he agrees as he kisses my jaw and toward my mouth.

"It's possible your parasitic spawn is taking over my brain," I tease.

"Hmmmmm...it's also possible you're ready to be fearless and I'm ready to be the man that never gives you reason to be afraid."

He invades my mouth with his tongue and I bite it lightly. "Shut-up before I lose my priorities and jump on your dick. I want to go out. It's only eleven. We can dance for hours yet."

I shriek as he stands up. I latch my legs around him and he moves out of the living room towards the front door, handing me my phone and clutch from the foyer table. "Let's go to Luna then."

As he's carrying me toward the limo, still shrieking and laughing, I check my texts. "Uhhhhhm...change of plans. Denizen is the place to be."

"That's a fucking meat market," he objects.

"Yeah but apparently the DJ is lighting up the place tonight. I want to dance...with you," I whisper, still frowning at Trace's text. "I've got no worries at Denizen."

But apparently Trace does. Adam didn't say anything in the rules about sharing every single motivation or piece of information, but I suppose I'll tell him why we are going to Denizen. When we get there.

Wow. So Mac and Adam took some huge steps in the chapter. They probably talked more than they have since they conceived Babycakes! What did you think of their list-telling and their ground rules?

But bad girls don't turn good overnight. Sounds like Mac's running games for Trace. What do you think is going on there? Predictions for the next chapter? Spoiler...we are getting a Little Sister POV chapter coming up very soon. And we'll finally learn the origins of those henna tats!

Please comment/vote/list/follow! It helps our Soundcrush Saga so much! Thanks!