Chapter 36: Rock Stars Are Like Tootsie Pops

Kat

Leed's best quality, besides his singing, may be his ability to shut-up and dance.

Dancing with him is like therapy— he just takes what I'm throwing off and helps me work it out. When I bust out my best shuffle, he throws back his head and laughs, matching me. Besting me, really. Huh, who knew a grunge rock star could dance like this?

"Were you in a boy band before Soundcrush?" I yell at him.

"Crazy step-mother number one...dance teacher!" he shouts back.

We kick it hard, but the shuffle can't last long. Finally we slide down to more of fun-grind-but-don't-touch club dance. The entire time, Leed syncs in close rhythym, but he's a perfect gentlemen; he never even touches me. Which is good, because I'm not revenging, I just need to move in a space that does not contain my recovering sex fiend boyfriend right now. I'm not exactly mad at him, I'm just...tryna deal. Knowing he's had a hundred lovers is a lot easier to swallow than actually being confronted with one of them.

I don't know how long we dance, but finally I start to feel like I can talk to Trace again without crying or hitting him. A super sexy song comes on and the whole floor practically erupts into an orgy of dirty grinding. Leed leans in and yells,

"Work your shit out yet? Or do you need to back that ass up to feel better?"

I punch Leed in the arm. "I'm good. Thanks for the dance."

He makes a way through the crowd for us. "Anytime, Sister."

Something near the bar catches Leed's attention. He's nearly a foot taller than me; I can't really see what he's seeing. I hear him swear profusely and then he puts a hand on my shoulder, calling my attention in the opposite direction, towards the security guard Ben, who is waving at Leed as he descends the stairs from the VIP Balcony. "Do me a favor? Go straight over there and let Ben take you back upstairs. There's some sketchy shit going down over by the bar. Goddamm!" he swears again and then he pushes me gently toward Ben and turns in the other direction.

In seconds, Ben has me by the elbow. When we top the stairs, I see that Trace is not here and at first, I feel a flash of annoyance. Then I realize there's no one from Soundcrush up here anymore, and I'm more worried than annoyed. Ben immediately goes to the railing, as he thumbs a quick text. I follow him, curious to see what Leed saw that annoyed him. It must involved Soundcrush personnel.

Yep. All of them.

Mac is standing on top of the bar downstairs, yelling at Adam, who is dramatically pouring shots on the floor one at a time, crumpling up napkins underneath them and flinging them over his shoulder into the crowd of good-looking dudes behind him. I can't see his face but wherever Mac sees is making her crazy, so I have this idea that he probably looks totally calm and determined. Seems like a waste of good liquor to me, but there's really no accounting for rock star behavior sometimes. Trace and Bodie are out in front of the bar, stiff-arming the guys being pelted by falling crumpled napkins to keep them off Adam's back. Lead is snaking through the throng trying to make his way to Trace and Adam. Phones are flashing everywhere. The bartender is taking a selfie with Mac and Adam in the background.

"What's happening?" I ask Ben.

"Just a typical Soundcrush night at the club," he says dryly.

"Trace looks like he's going to punch somebody."

"Yep."

I turn to go back downstairs and he steps in front of me. "Mr. Gallant would not like it all if I let you go back down there."

"Why don't you go down there and stop them before they do something stupid?"

He grins. "Because they want to be doing something stupid, and they pay my salary. In situations like this, my team's job is securing Ms. Lawson, and the pretty packages. John usually secures Ms. Lawson--" he gestures to the other security guy, who has edged behind the bar and is standing behind Mac, apparently prepared to haul her down and escape through the kitchen if necessary, "and I typically round up the pretty packages."

"Pretty packages?"

"Guests, dates. Usually there are more, but you are the only one tonight."

"I don't like being thought of as a pretty package that needs to be rounded up."

He looks me over coolly. "Sorry if I offended you, Ms Ballard. It's just a generic call sign we use because sometimes we don't know all the guests' names. But, to be fair, you didn't seem to mind being secured when you got swarmed at the Fox concert."

I open my mouth, but I don't know what to say to that. Maybe I don't like their stupid call sign, but he has a point about the Fox incident. I look down at the bar. The situation hasn't really changed, except that Leed has now joined the group and is trying to play good cop, separating Trace and a drunk, angry-looking guy in a button down. Mac is still yelling. Adam is still pouring. "You really think it's going to be a fight?"

"Hopefully the fight will stay contained between Ms. Lawson and Mr. Heartsley," he says dryly. "Will you help make my job a little easier and hang tight in case we need to hustle to the cars? I've had them pull around to the kitchen."

I nod like a sullen child and flounce back over to the mostly empty couches. The basketball players give me a friendly grin. A couple of them give me more of an up and down, but I ignore them. I didn't come to sit or flirt; I was hoping to find something to drink, because keeping up with Leed on the dance floor is an intense workout. There are no waters anywhere on the tables, only bottles of top-shelf liquor and the day-glo green drinks. I pick one up and sip. To my surprise, it tastes more like Gatorade than liquor. I toss the pacifier out and drink it down in heavy swallows. I pick up a second glass. It's weird that most of these drinks were left on the table, when almost all of the liquor is now drunk.

"Woah, easy girl," one of the basketball players grins. "Molly mixed those drinks herself. You don't need more than one Mollycock," he assures me. I smile at him, but I really don't know what he means. There can't be much more than a splash of alcohol in these drinks, if any liquor at all. I take the second glass with me and return to the view over the railing, but I sniff it, wondering what he means.

"Like my special cocktail?" A giggly voice tinkles in my ear. Molly takes the pacifier from my drink and sucks it once, then tosses into the crowd below. It arcs wide over the crowd, like a shooting star.

I try to be polite. "Sure."

"You're pretty," she says and she kisses me. I don't pull back at first, mostly because I'm shocked. After a second, she stops and smiles. "And sweet. Trace is sweet, too. Like a Tootsie Pop. Soooo sweet, until you get to the center. Then he's a sticky, dark mess."

"Are you high?" I'm really asking.

She laughs at me. "No more than you are, Sweetie." She plants her arms on the balcony rail, leaning backward slightly, over the crowd below. "Do you know Trace's secret?"

Her hand slips and I'm terrified she's going to tumble over the railing. She's a crazy bitch, but I still don't want her to accidentally kill herself. I grab her arm, pull her away from rail and she wraps her arms around me and whispers in my ear.

The things she's saying...they paralyze me. I want to push her away, but I can't. She just keeps whispering as she wraps her arms tighter around my neck. I drop the drink. I think I might be sick. Somehow I find the strength to move again and push her off me.

She studies my face. "I thought you would be more surprised."

"I don't believe you." My voice is shaking.

"Yeah, you do." She smiles, and saunters away.

Oh Dang, Molly has outed Trace! What do you think she told Kat? I'd love to hear theories...

Please do all those cool things that people who love to read on Wattpad do: vote, comment, list, follow! Thanks!