Ripped: The Price of Loyalty Read Online By Tania Joyce - Read Ripped: The Price of Loyalty(14) Online free

Chapter 14

Gemma stormed into the warehouse’s bathroom a few minutes after Amie had gone in. For two days, Amie had kept her distance from her, but now, on a rehearsal break for the up-and-coming Billboard Awards, Gemma wasn’t going to let her escape. Gemma swung the door open with force. It crashed against the wall and rattled the paper-towel dispenser hanging near the basin.

“You bitch.” Gemma’s voice was amplified by the concrete walls. She pointed her finger at Amie’s face. “All morning I’ve put up with your shit and you flirting with Hunt. I’m not blind. Did you seriously think you’d get away with what you did the other night?” Gemma’s blood boiled like a cauldron through her veins. “It stops right now. Stay away from him. You know we’re together.”

Amie washed her hands and flicked water onto Gemma’s feet. “Oh, I see. You think I’m in the wrong. Let me guess. Hunter said it was all my doing. I was the one who kissed him. Right? So, I guess this is from someone not enjoying himself.” She tugged down the collar of her Ralph Lauren shirt and pointed to an ugly love-bite on her neck.

A spear of pain shot through Gemma’s heart. She swayed on her crutches, and a dizzy rush swam through her head.

Hunter had lied to her.

Why?

It was bad enough that he’d kissed her, but to lie about the extent of what had happened was even worse. Gripping onto the handles of her crutches, Gemma’s knuckles turned white. She wanted to walk out of here, right now, and tell Hunter to fuck off, but she wouldn’t give Amie that sense of satisfaction. Ever.

Gemma lifted her chin. “Hunt’s mine. Go lay your claws into someone else.”

Amie raised one of her bony shoulders. “Hunter’s not boyfriend material. He was put on this planet to fuck. You, of all people, should know that.” She wiped her hands on a paper towel and threw it in the bin. “Get over it. Now . . . let’s get back to rehearsals.” Amie opened the bathroom door. “We have to sort out what we’re going to do with you on stage, since you can only hobble around like a cripple.”

Gemma grit her teeth, resisting the urge to throw herself at Amie and bitch-fight her to the ground. “Good thing my crippled leg is only temporary. Unlike the ugly crap you’ve done to your face.” Gemma wriggled her finger at Amie’s eyebrow lift, cheek implants, and puffed up lips. “That shit’s permanent.”

Steering clear of Amie, Gemma jabbed her crutches hard against the ground and hurtled herself over to the practice area where Kyle, Hunter, and their backup band waited. Taking her position in front of her mic, every muscle in her body ticked with tension.

Kyle and Hunter rushed over, worry lines forming deep creases on their brows.

“What happened?” Kyle asked. “We heard you shouting.”

“Amie and I had a few words about what happened the other night.” She whipped her head around to face Hunter. Hurt shuddered in her heart. “She gave me her side of the story. It seems someone hasn’t been entirely honest.”

Guilt spread like seeping tar across Hunter’s face. “Gem . . . I can explain—”

“Enough.” She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “We’ll talk later. Not now.” She needed time to think. Needed time to process everything. How could she stay with Hunter if he wasn’t honest? She shouldn’t tolerate any form of indiscretion, but her fear of failure had kicked in. How could she quit out on him when they hadn’t been together for long? But for now, she had to focus on their music, not on Hunter. Gemma threw her crutches on the ground and grabbed the mic. “Let’s do this.”

All afternoon, she struggled through the practice session. Her voice was off. In fact, the whole day was a write-off. How were she and Hunter going to get through this? Would she ever be able to forgive him? At what point did one say enough was enough?

***

The doctor made the last cut with the saw and cracked the cast off Gemma’s leg with the spreader. Finally, the hideous pink cast was gone. Gemma gasped when she saw that all the muscle tone in her calf had vanished. Flesh hung limp around her bone. Her skin was pale, yellow and sick-looking.

“Oh no. My leg looks so gross.” She scratched at her skin. But, oh, that felt so good to be able to scratch.

Kyle and Hunter sat beside her, screwing up their noses and peering over at her limb.

“You’ll need a spray tan, Gem.” Hunter teased.

“Sunshine on the pool deck at home might be better.” Kyle said.

Gemma warmed to that idea much better.

“The color will be fine in a few days.” The doctor reassured her. “But your leg’s very weak. Get some physio. Don’t over exert yourself. No running. And wear a moon-boot until you get your strength back.”

“Are you serious?” Gemma groaned, but she had to admit that anything would be better than wearing that cast.

“I’m afraid so.” The doctor said.

“Thanks, doc.”

With her black, slim-line moon-boot in place, Gemma hobbled out of the hospital with the boys and into their waiting car. Hunter edged next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. When he kissed her on the cheek, her chest tightened. Now with her cast off there was nothing standing in their way to take their relationship to the next level.

The past three weeks had disappeared in a blur. They’d been tough emotionally and physically on Gemma. Long days were spent at rehearsals, and even longer hours spent rebuilding her trust in Hunter. He came to dress fittings with her and helped her pick some items for up-and-coming events. Fashion was his forte, so that was fun. He took her for walks and a boat ride out on the river, but he had more fun driving the speedboat than spending a rare quiet moment with her.

The worst thing about Hunter’s newfound attentiveness was that it all seemed to be an effort. A constant niggle sat at the base of Gemma’s neck, doubting how genuine Hunter was. And any affection between the two of them seemed to disappear whenever Amie was around.

Surely, Gemma was just being silly and it was nothing to be concerned about. But for now, she wanted to push her worries aside. It was time to get to rehearsals. They headed to Las Vegas in three days.

***

The drive out to the airport was slow. The flight to Las Vegas was long. The full-dress rehearsals were fun. Catching up with friends, rivals, presenters, and hosts, and mucking around with the TV crew backstage managed to put Gemma in the right frame of mind for tonight’s show for the Billboard Awards. In a few hours, she’d be back on stage and the adrenaline was already pumping through her veins.

Housed up in one of the SureHaven executive’s mansions on the outskirts of Las Vegas, Gemma and the guys were getting ready for the awards. For the past two hours, Carla, her makeup artist, hairdresser, and miracle worker, had preened, plucked and transformed Gemma into a red-carpet glamour.

Dressed in an Ellie Saab black halter-neck jumpsuit, accessorized with her slim, black moon-boot underneath, Gemma was ready. She glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror, loving her defrizzed straightened hair, smoky dark eyes highlighted with glitter, bronzed cheeks, and raging red lipstick. She stood up on her tippy-toes. “I hate not being able to wear high heels.” Gemma turned this way and that, making sure her ass didn’t look too big in the outfit. “I’m going to look like a midget next to Kyle and Hunt.” It would be the first time she walked a red carpet in flats. She desperately wanted to wear her new gold-jeweled Roberto Cavalli stilettos, but they’d be sitting in her closet back home for a while longer.

“You’ll be fine,” Carla said, fussing with Gemma’s hair and dousing it with another cloud of hairspray. “Off you go.”

“Thank you.” Gemma kissed Carla on the cheek. “Love your work, as always.”

Gemma leaned forward to grab her clutch off the bed, but her hand shot up to her chest. “Jesus Christ, Carla. Did you have to use so much tape to stick me into this thing?” With a slit running from the neckline to her naval, Carla had used so much Hollywood tape to stick Gemma into the halter-top that her chest was going to get a waxing when she changed to go on stage. She knew it was better than having a wardrobe malfunction. She didn’t need her tits sending the Internet into meltdown again.

Gemma picked up her clutch, headed out of the room and clip-clopped down the stairs.

Dressed in dinner suits, Hunter and Kyle were sitting on the sofa in the living room. They turned in her direction when she was halfway down the staircase. A cheeky grin touched the corner of Hunter’s mouth. Kyle smiled and nodded.

“Stop gawking. Both of you. You’ve seen me dressed up before,” Gemma snapped, but heat rushed to her cheeks. Their reaction was the only compliment she needed.

Hunter leapt from the couch, rushed over, and kissed her on the cheek. “That outfit is amazing.” His gaze traveled down the front split. “You’ll be the hottest chick tonight. Guaranteed.”

High heels clicked on the marble floor tiles behind Gemma. Hunter’s hand dropped from her waist, and he took a step to the side. Gemma turned to see Amie, Bec, and Kate enter the room.

Gemma’s eyes widened. Amie, who normally dressed head to toe in Ralph Lauren, had discarded her usual business attire for a pair of skinny white leather pants and a sheer top with a plunging neckline. What the hell?Had Margo, their stylist, got to her?

Amie’s outfit looked like something Gemma would wear on stage, and certainly not something Amie had ever worn before.

Gemma caught sight of Kyle’s brows pinching and his lips curling as if he had some fowl taste lurking in his mouth. Hunter’s reaction, however, was the complete opposite. His eyes darkened to a stormy blue. He looked hungry, like a tiger on the hunt. There was no hiding the fact he liked what he saw.

And that was a blow to Gemma’s chest.

Her heart shrunk, and an ache filled the space. With a flick of her wrist, she slapped him hard on the arm with her clutch. “Hey . . . I thought you said you only had eyes for me?”

“I do. I was looking, not touching.” Hunter threw her a cheeky smile and headed out the door.

“Have a great time. See you later.” Bec shooed them out the door.

Sliding into the limousine ahead of the guys, Amie, Kate, and security, Gemma’s mind rattled. She curled into the seat behind the driver, drew her arms around her, and inched as far away as possible from Amie, who sat beside her. Kyle and Hunter sat opposite while their security guards sat across the backseat.

Glaring at Hunter, Gemma’s gaze blurred. Had she been played for a fool by Amie and Hunter? Was there something going on between them? She wanted to stop having suspicious thoughts every time Amie was around, but her intuition kept digging and gnawing away at her insides.

The limousine took off down the hillside and headed for The Strip. Amie and Kate scrolled through screen after screen on their phones and ran over their schedule once more—the allocated time Gemma and the guys had to walk the red carpet, which media representatives they were set to have interviews with, and the time they had to prepare for their headline performance.

By the time they hit the freeway, Gemma’s excitement kicked in. But it was quickly shot down when Amie dropped her pen and leaned forward, giving Hunter an eyeful of her D-cup cleavage. His eyes darkened, and one corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

A shard of ice stabbed through the center of Gemma’s heart and white noise exploded in her head like a cacophony. Hunter . . . never looked at her like that. Never ogled her like that. Never had desire burning in his eyes like that.

Gemma sucked in a deep breath and clasped onto her clutch so hard she thought the buckle would snap. For weeks, she and Hunter had tried to make their relationship work, and she’d tried to convince herself that things would be better once her cast was off.

But nothing had changed.

He hadn’t changed.

Gemma shuddered and swallowed the bile burning up her throat. She didn’t want to be like her mother who used men and jumped from one relationship to the next. She didn’t want to give up when things got tough. But being with Hunter wasn’t about social status, or money, or chasing a lavish lifestyle—this was about protecting her heart, their friendship, and their livelihood. And before things got worse, it had to end. She’d cried enough tears and fought long enough. She and Hunter had said right from the start they’d try not to hurt each other, but they had. And while disappointment and failure hung heavy in her belly and her heart ached at the betrayal and her self-foolishness, she wasn’t broken. Far from it.

There was no way she could stay with someone when there was no magic. And she wanted magic.

Maybe over the past few weeks, her subconscious had prepared her for this moment and given her the strength to finally admit the truth.

Hunter and Amie were into each other. The vibe between them was unavoidable.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Kyle would never act like this. Kyle would never do something like this. Kyle would never . . .

Oh . . .

Oh shit.

Kyle.

Kyle?

What the hell?

A strange calmness washed over her. The invisible weight that had been lodged between her shoulder blades for weeks disappeared. Was it the realization that she and Hunter were over and that she no longer had to fight for something that wasn’t there? Or was it something else? Something that made her feel light for the first time in months?

“Gem, you okay?” Kyle asked, nudging his knee against hers.

“Yeah.” She opened her eyes and gave him a warm smile that filled her chest. “I really am.”

Soon, there would be no more anger. No more turmoil. No more suspicion. But she’d have to wait until after the show to talk to Hunter. There was no way she could break up with him when they were about to perform live in front of millions of people. Because what if she had misread the signs? She couldn’t upset him before going on stage. She wouldn’t do that to him, because she did care about him and their performance. And to top everything else off, there were too many ears, eyes and cameras around for that kind of private conversation.

The limo turned off Frank Sinatra Drive onto Park Avenue and made its way towards the T-Mobile Arena, and they joined the queue of limo after limo inching along. Barricades on the streets kept screaming fans back as if they were caged wild animals.

Nearing the front of the line, Gemma turned the air-conditioning vent toward her and blasted her face with it. Time to focus. Time to perform. Time to face the crowd, the media, and the frenzy. She could act like everything with her and Hunter was golden for a few more hours.

The car jerked to a stop, and the seatbelt snagged on Gemma’s shoulder. Sam flung the door open, letting the roars and screams from the crowd flood in.

“Gemma. Kyle. Hunter. Everhide.”

The chanting weaved its magic, and electric energy charged through Gemma’s veins. Pulling her shoulders back, she sat two inches taller and smiled, infected by the atmosphere outside.

Hunter slid out of the car first and made his way over to the crowd. Kyle was next, and Gemma followed behind. It was catty, she knew it, but she made sure she stood on Amie’s toes with her boot when she stepped past. The grunt from Amie filled Gemma with a petty, but worthy, sense of satisfaction.

Gemma looked up and saw Kyle waiting for her. He held out his hand to help her.

Gemma placed her hand in his . . . then zap.

The electric shock sent a jolt straight to her heart, and a light exploded inside her chest. Heat flooded her skin and her knees buckled.

What the fuck?

His touch . . . wow . . . his touch.

Gemma curled her hand in his and looked up at him, questioning what the hell had just happened.

“Gem? You look pale. Are you feeling sick?” He held her steady.

She shook her head, unable to take her eyes off his. It was as if the world around her dissolved away, and she was standing on center stage with no one else around but Kyle.

Kyle was here for her. Always. While Hunter was off over at the crowd, not caring in the slightest about her or her well-being.

But Kyle did.

Always.

How had she not seen this before?

“Did . . . did you just feel that?” Gemma whispered.

“Feel what?” His eyes darkened. Shards of gold flickered in his beautiful espresso irises.

The screams from the crowd and camera flashlights brought her out of her bubble. It was time to make a move. “Um . . . nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

It was probably just the excitement in the air.

“Do you want me to help you walk?” Kyle asked.

“No. No, I’ll be fine. Let’s do this.” She gave him a reassuring smile, and they worked their way down the line of fans. Hobbling along on her boot, she had selfies with the crowd, signed autographs, and said hellos to some regulars, even some of the “Ringers,” members of their biggest fan club, were spotted amongst the sea of faces.

The organizers, with oversized lanyards hanging around their necks, ushered her, Kyle, and Hunter along to keep the program on track. After several interviews and a blinding number of photographs, they entered the arena and were ushered through a series of doorways and corridors into their backstage dressing room. Hunter had half undressed, ripping off his dinner jacket and unbuttoning his shirt even before the door was shut.

Stepping in behind the panel separating her side of the room from the boys, all of Carla’s hard work on doing Gemma’s hair was gone in a few seconds. She ruffled and scrunched her fingers through it, teasing it back to life. Then she unbuttoned her halter top, held her breath, and ripped the Hollywood tape off her skin. “Fuuuccckk.” Rubbing at her chest, Gemma glanced down to see a strip of missing skin on the side of her breast. Wincing at the sore, she pulled on her new leather pants, refitted her slim moon boot, and shimmied into her silver sequined top that had remained here after dress rehearsals. She walked out from behind the screen to find the boys out of their suits, now dressed in leather pants and button-down shirts.

When Amie walked in and threw Hunter a flirtatious wink, it was the reminder Gemma needed to eradicate her doubt about her conclusions. Now she couldn’t wait to get Hunter alone after the show and put an end to all this mess.

After gearing up with their in-ears and transmitters, Gemma and the guys followed a crew member down behind the constructed stage, past elaborate props, and ducked their heads under a low metal bar to make their way via torchlight to the hydraulic platform that would raise the three of them up onto the main stage for their performance.

The atmosphere buzzed all around them, and Gemma’s pulse thudded in her ears. Performing alongside these guys was what she was born to do. She didn’t want to think about Hunter and Amie. Didn’t want to think about having to end her relationship. And didn’t want to think about that spark between her and Kyle. But every time she looked at him, even her toes tingled.

She sucked in a deep breath; it was time to put all her crazy thoughts aside. She grabbed her mic from Eddie, one of the stage crew members, and stepped up onto the platform, followed by the guys. But just when they were in position, Hunter jumped down and stole the platform’s remote control from Eddie.

Eddie’s eye widened, and the color drained from his face. He looked as if he was about to have a heart attack.

“Hunt, no,” Gemma said. She wasn’t in the mood for putting up with his antics today. Normally they were fun and made her laugh, but not this time.

Hunter jiggled and jumped beside her, shaking the remote around in his hand.

The crowd out in the auditorium grew louder, and they stamped their feet.

“Silence,” Jon, the other crew member, said and placed his finger over his lips. On the small TV monitor, Gemma saw the auditorium lights dim. The people in the mosh pit and balconies roared and waved their arms. Jon’s eyes were glued to the monitor, and he spoke into his headset. “Prepare for telecast.”

Gemma checked her balance on the platform and closed her eyes. “Leg, please be okay. Please be okay.” She wriggled her toes to make sure it wasn’t aching too much inside her boot.

No, it was fine.

All she had to do was get to the front of the stage and sing. The boys would walk around the set and play it up to the crowd.

“We are live in . . . ten . . . nine . . . eight.” Jon flicked some switches on the control panel. Gemma’s heart pounded.

“Give me the remote.” Eddie mouthed at Hunter, sweat beaded on his brow.

Hunter shook his head, so Gemma knuckled him in the arm. She loved mucking around with the guys before a show, but she knew when to draw the line. Hunter never did.

“Seven . . . six . . . five . . . four,” Jon counted down.

“Please.” Eddie held up his hands, begging. Jon’s eyes widened.

The audience chanted their name. “Ev-er-hide.” Clap, clap, clap. “Ev-er-hide.” Clap, clap, clap. Adrenaline surged through Gemma’s veins, and made every one of her nerve endings stand on end.

But Hunter kept dancing around on his spot.

She clasped her mic tighter and tighter, resisting the urge to smack him over the head with it.

Would he ever grow up?

Probably not.

But she had. Gemma wanted so much more than he could ever give.

Falling into place, the boys turned to face forward. Gemma faced the back.

“Three . . . two . . . one . . . go . . . ” Jon cued with a point of his finger.

“Welcome to the Billboard Awards.” The booming voice of the host filled the auditorium above. “Opening tonight’s show . . . please welcome onto the main stage . . . EVERHIDE.”

Gemma slipped in her in-ear monitors, blocking out all sounds of the screaming crowd above. The electric guitars and heavy drumbeat of music from their band on stage sprang to life and filled her head.

Hunter pressed the button on the remote, then threw it down to Eddie who collapsed in relief. The platform rose, and Gemma looked up. The stage trapdoor above them opened and they rose higher and higher. Blue and red spotlights zigzagged across the stage. Lasers darted back and forth. Fog clouded the air.

“Here we go,” Kyle mouthed.

Gemma squeezed his hand and raised her microphone in her other hand to her lips. It was time to get this party started, and what better way to do it than with their number-one hit song, “Escape?”

She licked her lips.

Swallowed.

Then sang, hitting the first note perfectly.