Disaster. Complete fucking disaster.
I slammed my drink, teetering a little under the burn as the no-longer-chilled tequila made its way through my esophagus, and then there was only one thing to do — get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible.
I grabbed Bodie’s hand and lifted my chin, tilting my head to indicate I wanted to talk to him, and he lowered his face so I could reach his ear.
“Let’s go,” I said hastily and with a little bit of a slur.
He nodded, everything about him softening with relief, but before we could even take a step, Rodney was on the mic, and I heard my name.
“Penny! Hey, guys,” Rodney said, his voice rumbling at a trillion decibels from forty-eight-million speakers. “Check it out. See that girl there with the blue hair and the hips that could knock a motherfucker out?”
He pointed straight at me, and everyone turned around to gawk, except Bodie. Bodie stared at Rodney like he wanted to separate his head from his body.
“Come on up here, Pen.”
I shook my head.
“Come on! Help me out, guys. Pen-ny. Pen-ny. Pen-ny.”
The entire fucking joint was chanting my name, and the next thing I knew, I was being pulled toward the stage by strangers, looking back over my shoulder at Bodie, begging for him to save me, begging for him to forgive whatever was about to happen.
I was lifted up and put on the stage, and before I could even protest, I was in Rodney’s arms, pressed up against his chest as I angled away, scanning the crowd for Bodie, but I couldn’t see shit. I didn’t even know how Rodney had picked me out.
Stupid fucking hair. Dead giveaway.
“So, you might know Penny from her TV show, Tonic.”
The crowd cheered.
“Well, wouldn’t you know it? Penny used to be my girlfriend a long, long time ago, but I was a stupid little prick back then.” His tone was self-deprecating, and I didn’t buy it at all. “I wrote some of your favorite songs for her because, let me tell you something — you don’t forget a girl like Penny.”
He turned to me, all smiles as he let me go and stepped back, slinging his guitar from back to front, calling the song to the guys, and the drummer kicked off the beat.
And I stood there on the fucking stage with a hundred lights on me, a screaming crowd — minus one pissed off Bodie — singing along as Rodney serenaded me with their biggest hit. The song was a drug-and-addiction metaphor for love, all about this muse who had ruined him, left him hanging to dry, spent and tired and needing more.
I felt like he’d gotten his wires crossed about what had gone down between us.
I was shocked and stunned, locked to the spot to the side of the stage by the expectations of several hundred people. I couldn’t walk off without causing a scene, and there were all those faces and eyes and lights — so many lights, blinding and sharp — pinning me down as a zillion thoughts zinged through my head.
I legitimately want to die.
Where did Bodie go?
God, there are so many people staring at me right now.
I should get an award for being so fucking dumb.
Fuck, it’s so loud. This is ridiculous.
I should walk. But what if he stops the song? Then everyone is going to boo.
Do I even care?
Yes, yes, I care if three hundred people boo me.
Bodie’s watching. He’s got to be so pissed. I would be a raging psycho.
Why didn’t we leave? We should have left.
What the fuck do I do with my hands?
I should have fucking called this off. Stupid, Penny. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Am I supposed to smile? Dance? Sing along? I don’t even know the damn words.
Seriously, death would be a welcome release. Any second now, I’ll get struck by lightning and be put out of my misery.
And so on for approximately four minutes, while I stood there like a fucking idiot, wishing I could run like hell.
The song ended, mercifully, and Rodney made his way over, reaching for me for what I thought would be a kiss on the cheek.
Wrong again. So, so wrong.
His lips hit mine, soft and familiar, sending a rush of memories back to me, and I immediately turned my head, smiling awkwardly as I attempted to push him away. Discomfort covered me like a bucket of slime, and I pushed harder.
He finally stopped, but before he let me go, he nuzzled into my ear. “Come see me backstage after the show.” His hand snaked down to my ass, and he squeezed it. “Fuck, you look good.”
I pushed away from him hard, furious on the inside, laughing uncomfortably on the outside, with my cheeks flaming and all those people staring at me. When I turned, a security guy waited behind me with a hand extended to guide me down the stairs, and as I made my way down, I searched for Bodie in the crowd.