As I started to hit him repeatedly, Steven tried to dislodge me – first by force, then by throwing weak punches, and finally by attempting to scratch me.
I finally climbed off of him, and he lunged forwards. But instead of reaching me, he slipped, hitting his head on my coffee table.
With my anger barely controlled, I pulled his sniffling, shaken form up from the ground. Half-expecting him to be whimpering, he was instead snarling – broken but angry.
“You fucking piece of shit,” he growled.
I held him by the shoulders, my enraged eyes matching his gaze with enough strength to apparently surprise him.
“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do.”
“What?” He snarled back.
“Don’t make me ask again, you spineless, backstabbing, limp-dicked son of a bitch.”
Steven’s furious sniffling began to settle, and he looked at me with a mixture of fear and absolute irritation.
I have to give it to him.
At least he doesn’t back down.
Maybe he’s less spineless than I thought.
“Angel, right?”
I nodded angrily.
His face curled into a shit-eating grin.
“You had me worried with your little phone call. Sorry Trent. Your lovebird is long gone by now.”
Because I couldn’t afford for him to lose consciousness on me, I delivered a strong punch to his gut. He crumpled to the ground, moaning and clutching his abs while I stood up and popped my neck.
“That’s for not answering my question,” I told Steven coldly.
I pulled him back up from the ground, half-supporting him on his knees in front of me.
“Let’s try again. What. The fuck. Did you. Do?”
Steven’s painful, defiant glance flipped up towards me. I could already see bruising and swelling starting to settle in.
He was going to look rough tomorrow.
“You know what I did,” he mumbled. “She’s a distraction. A ticking time bomb. That bitch is your motherfucking Courtney Love. You have other people depending on you. The rest of your band, the roadies, the label. Ever since you snuck her onto that bus, your performances have been shit. Critic opinions, not just mine. And then there’s the paparazzi thing.”
“What paparazzi thing?”
Steven laughed painfully.
“Have you not been on the Internet at all in the last couple of days? It’s been all over the gossip sites.”
I pulled him closer.
“Tell me. Now.”
“I’ll do you one better,” he chuckled before wincing with pain. “I’ll show you. Let me down.”
Reluctantly, I relinquished my grip.
Once he’d pulled himself up off of the floor and fished his phone out of his pocket, he did just that. He showed me what had happened.
The article.
The pictures.
The interview.
I read carefully, twice over, before handing him the phone back.
“This is nothing. It’s fixable.”
“It’s a little harder than that,” he told me.
“No. No, it’s not. This is your job. You run public relations for us. You manage us. Well, you’re supposed to, but you’re so fucking terrible at it that I can’t believe we got stuck with you…”
Steven opened his mouth to retort but, after one glance at my eyes, he closed it again quickly.
“So you showed her this, then.”
Steven nodded.
“And you made up some bullshit to make her go away?”
“It wasn’t bullshit, Trent. What makes this girl different? You left her here the first chance you got. No money, no friends, and a backpack full of clothes. Leaving was her choice. All I did was lay out the facts.”
“The facts?”
“Everything I told her was true. You can believe that I filled her head with complete shit, but my job is to keep this train moving.”
“My girlfriend isn’t some piece of dead weight to be cut loose,” I growled menacingly, advancing upon him.
I was so furious that I hadn’t even realized the Freudian slip.
“Well, you have your professional opinions, and I have mine,” Steven snarled with a slight hiss of pain. “All I know is, I did my job. You know, you’ve been a hock of shit since day fucking one. Always making shit difficult. You’re a real piece of work, Trent Masters. This is the worst fucking gig I’ve had in years! And I represented The Spitting Pigs, drug-fueled orgies and all!”
I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close, one last time.
“Steven…where is she.”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer,” I replied, wheeling my fist back.
“No! No! Wait!”
He feared for his life now.
“What?”
“Seriously! I don’t know! She wouldn’t tell me! She wouldn’t even let me see the ticket! I just gave her some cash. I have no idea where she is!”
“Think,” I commanded.
Steven held up his hands.
“I don’t know! She never said!”
My fist trembled. It was ready to strike.
He called out in fear: “It’s not just me!”
I paused, letting that sink in.
“…What.”
“I mean. It wasn’t my idea!”
I hesitated furiously.
“You’d better start talking, and now.”
“Waylon and Dylan, it was their idea. Waylon’s been pissed every since you brought the bitch into the bus. They’re already talking about replacing you. I’m doing you a fucking favor, Trent.”
He looked so absolutely fearful that I couldn’t help but believe him…and that only made me angrier. He saw the venom in my eyes and recoiled in terror, his hands up.
“Wh-wh-what are you doing?”
“Taking out the trash,” I smiled evilly.
After roughing him up across my living room and knocking him out, I carried him outside over my shoulder. I strolled over towards the line of trash bins outside, contemplating throwing him into them as one last fuck you.
Nah.
No reason to piss off the garbage crew.
Instead, I tossed him to the curb and told him to get the fuck out of here. Brushing my hands, I pulled out my phone.
There were some calls to make.
I needed a plane and a car.
There was only one lead to follow.
I hoped with all my heart that it would be enough to track her down.
Chapter 26
Angel
At least half a day before Trent would be back home, I was already back out of the bus and quietly, miserably waiting at my destination.
And that life, as I knew it, was long gone.
I only had to wait at the bus station for about two hours before Mom showed up, pulling up in her battered, ancient sedan. It wasn’t surprising to me to see that it was still marked with dings, dents, and a crumpled backseat door.
“Angel! Good lord, girl, I thought I’d never see you again!”
Proudly boasting ratty, unkempt hair and loud makeup choices, Mom gave me an awkward car hug as I climbed into the passenger seat.
“Where have you been all this time?” She suddenly demanded to know.
“I think I was staying…with a friend, or something,” I told her reluctantly. “Nowhere near here. The last little while, I’ve been living with…well, I guess it’s not really important.”