Heartbreaker

HEARTbrEAKER

Grady

H er lips were red, bruised, and I doubted mine looked any better. My hair was unquestionably a disaster now, especially since I'd let it grow out recently, but I wouldn't change Marissa's hands running through it for anything. And there was no amount of teasing her bandmates could offer to ever make me feel even a shred of embarrassment for how turned on my wife could make me.

"They're going to come looking for me," Marissa moaned against my cheek, my hips continuing to rock gently against her. Her legs were wrapped around my waist, and while we might've been on the far side of the stage–hopefully out of sight–it was still out in the open so no clothes had been removed despite how much we wished otherwise. Not that either of us was against a little bit of dry humping. You'd think we were still sixteen years old and sneaking around the orphanage.

"Clive will be looking for me, too." Knowing that didn't stop me from stealing another kiss, one that promised everything I wished we could be doing in that moment.

With a sigh, Marissa pulled away, eyes dazed until she glanced over my shoulder. "They'll send Acacia unless they want to embarrass Cam again." Her brown eyes found mine and there was a glint of evil in them as though she thought the idea hilarious. "With the way he teases me, though, it might serve him right."

Laughter slipped past my lips as I slowly, intentionally , slid Marissa down my body. It was a bit torturous, but the tease was enough to hold us over until the night was done. Unless we could find a bathroom or dressing room to sneak into. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, but we were trying to behave ourselves. If only a bit.

With a quick wardrobe adjustment, and a steadying moment for my body to get back under control, I took Marissa's hand, kissing the back of it, before I lead us away from our hiding place and back toward where her bandmates were huddled. Either they were letting our absence slide, or they were too distracted by, well, all the distractions, to have noticed we'd been elsewhere. Not that I blamed them for it. There was a lot going on.

A music video awards show. From a channel that no longer showed music videos, even during the late-night hours. I wasn't allowed to laugh at the irony even though I could tell it wasn't just me. It seemed more than a little ridiculous, but Marissa's band found it campy. Or rather, Cameron found it campy and since taking over as manager, had completely realigned what that piece of shit Davis let slide. Like invites to music award shows when Sailor Gray had a nomination from the fans.And Cameron was hellbent on making Sailor Gray enjoy themselves.

Davis apparently had rejected every invite without the band's knowledge. According to the people Cameron spoke with, it helped the band keep their mysterious air of "don't get too close" while also putting others off to believing the band were grade A assholes who thought they were too good to be seen at a silly awards show.

The amount of ass-kissing Cameron had to do to readjust their image was pretty remarkable. Fortunately, Cameron's husband, Jackson, had claimed Cameron was more than willing to take on the job. "He's had a lot of practice," Jackson had cheekily winked to boos and jeers from his band mates. He only half-heartedly dodged a drumstick tossed his way.

Though she gave Cameron grief for it, I knew Marissa was excited by the idea of not only being nominated for Favorite Fan Choice and Rock Out Live, but also getting to debut their newest song, with video premiere to follow the conclusion of the show - an actual music video on the former music video channel. A novel concept to be sure.

The Red Carpet was black. And unlike the Grammy's we'd attended earlier in the year, or the Chasing Dreams Charity Gala we were supporting the following month, fans were right up close for this show. Their screams had been deafening the entirety of the walk into the venue. I still didn't understand how anyone in the band was able to speak to the reporters on scene with the way the noise carried. Of course, Marissa claimed it was the roar of the engine ringing in my ears that made my hearing abysmal. I refused to acknowledge she might be right; my head gear muffled a lot, but I needed to be able to hear my team while driving.

It was even more of a trip when the reporters kept asking me questions. Of course, a huge part of that was the fact Marissa and I were married and had a crazy path to the here and now. People loved a good happily even after, unfortunately they also enjoyed hearing about any craziness on the way to it. One doesn't go from orphanage sweethearts to stars in their respective industries that found each other again more than a decade later without a story there. My management team were now under strict order: if anyone from Hollywood came calling about turning our lives into a television series or movie, they were immediately rejected. Marissa's team, lead intentionally by Cameron, didn't even take the calls to say no to them. It was a hard no automatically.

"This is so cheesy, Cam." Jackson stood twirling a drumstick as he stared at his husband, who was ordering stagehands around. Harlan and Styler were parked beside him, watching the scene play out. "I cannot believe you got his people to agree to this. Grady, how did he get your people to agree to this?"

A shrug was the only thing I could offer. "Honestly, I have zero idea. My people had to ask Formula's people." While Marissa's bandmates were focused on watching my race car be placed into position for the short, but loud , drive I'd be doing to kick off Sailor Gray's performance at the outside stage the show had set up, I had more important things to focus on. Like massaging my wife's shoulders and the little moans she couldn't help letting loose. They were one of my favorite sounds ever. If she kept it up, I was highly contemplating scoping out any place we could sneak off to for absolute privacy.

"I can't believe you let Cameron ask your people to ask Formula's people. I'd have at least made him do it himself instead of giving him the number to call," Styler quipped with a laugh as Marissa shook my hands off right as her stylist walked over to lead her away so she could get dressed.

"Mrs. Knight, we're ready for you now."

With a quick kiss, I watched, like the dumb lovestruck fool I was, as Marissa headed off to wherever her wardrobe was located. Honestly, I still couldn't believe the awards show was putting on such a spectacle, but I'd heard of performances out of Alcatraz before, so this was insignificant compared to that. Of course, if anyone from my team heard me say that out loud, they probably wouldn't be too pleased considering they were letting my car be used, with me driving it. There was so much paperwork that went into that alone, insignificant was not a word to even be considered.

"Okay, so Grady will rev the engine, flames will shoot out from the starting point, he drives across the front of the stage, more flames, and then you guys start playing and–" Arms flailing about, Cameron continued trying to instruct the guys who were more interested in watching my car get into place. My pit manager, Clive, shouting at some guy from the show, stood just behind him, his arms flailing too.

It was beyond a spectacle.

I knew my part, everyone knew their part, but there were a lot of moving–literal–pieces that needed to work for this–to well– work . No one was really concerned, safety guys and the Formula Group excluded, but Cameron was counting on this being a success after all the effort he'd put in to making it happen.

With the band now picking on their manager and their attention firmly planted on exactly what was to be expected for the performance, no one was paying consideration to the new figure that had walked up to the scene.

"You'll get bored of her eventually, you know that right?"

My feet had me turning without thought, to see a man standing less than five feet away, who looked very familiar but which my mind was failing to place. He seemed to be around my height but he was super pale. Not that that mattered; what was visible of his skin seemed to covered in tattoos, even parts of his face.

"Pardon me?" Frowning, I looked back toward the band, but they were still checking out my car and completely oblivious to anything behind them. Returning my attention to the stranger, I cocked my head, knowing I knew him from somewhere and bothered I couldn't tell. "Do I know you?"

"Marissa," he continued, still not bothering to introduce himself. "She seems fun. That ice cold rock queen persona she's got going on makes her seem more interesting than she is."

Like a switch being flipped, immediately my mind realized who was standing in front of me. I felt a chuckle bubble up in my chest but I kept in check. "Ah, you must be Anthony."

"You'll get bored with her eventually," he repeated and this time I couldn't hold back my laugh.

"Sure I will. That's why you're out here, telling me that, right? Because you're so bored of her and have zero interest in her." Shaking my head, I took a couple steps toward Marissa's ex-husband, watching as he calculated just what my intentions were. "It's why you tried getting her back after you heard we got married, right? Because she's so boring and that ‘ ice cold rock queen persona' only makes her seem interesting." The chaos behind me had quieted and I knew we now had an audience. "It was pretty pathetic trying to weasel your way back into her life after humiliating it so spectacularly. But this…I mean I'm getting secondhand embarrassment just from looking at you."

"What do you want, Portimire? Looking for another poor girl to knock up?" Styler, arms crossed, moved to stand beside me, the glare on his face fierce.

"Just having a conversation, Styles, nothing for you to concern yourself with," Anthony retorted with condescension littering his tone.

"It's Styler , you dumb fuck, and you're not welcome here." Before Styler could even look toward security, Cameron had his radio up and was demanding one of the guards come remove Anthony Portimire from the scene lest anyone from Sailor Gray make a scene.

Two large men walked up behind Marissa's ex, each moving to his side to steer him away. Before he could be pulled too far away though, Anthony apparently wanted to embarrass himself a little bit more by shouting over his shoulder, "Remember what I said." And then he was gone.

"Jesus Christ. Who runs security here?" Harlan asked to no one in particular as I stalked toward where his bass guitar sat resting.

Styler remained by my side until long after Anthony was no longer visible. "I'm glad Marissa wasn't here just now," he commented low enough that only I'd hear him. "She thinks he's a piece of shit and his opinion means less than nothing but, she shouldn't have to hear his bullshit, y'know?"

I did know. Though Marissa had more than moved on from Anthony Portimire by the time we got together, he was still her ex-husband, and more than that, in the same industry as her. It was possible to avoid ever crossing paths with him, but it was also easy for him to sneak his way into her life anytime the mood struck him. Like now, apparently.

"How the hell did he get in here?" Styler and I both turned our heads toward where a fiery Cameron was shouting into his radio. "Down to Break aren't nominated, none of them are presenting, so I ask again, how did Anthony Portimire get past your security?"

"I am going to be exhausted calming him down later," Styler snickered as Jackson moved to join our duo.

"Shut up, man, we all know you're the more volatile of the two of you." And just to prove Styler's point, Jackson socked his guitarist in the arm. "Ow, fucker," Styler whined but was laughing at the same time.

"Whatever, just, no one let on to Marissa. And no offense, Grady, I get not wanting to lie to your spouse, but this is definitely not something she needs to worry about right now."

Stealing one more, quick look toward where they'd dragged Anthony off to, I sighed. "No, I agree. She deserves to know, just not yet." And then as if she'd been summoned, Marissa appeared, Styler's wife, Acacia chattering excitedly at her side, as the two women walked toward where our group was still standing around. "Hey baby. You look gorgeous." And goddamn did she ever. She had a fiery corset on over skintight leather pants, with a bright red wig to compliment the look. Her feet were encased in soft pink slippers until it was time to go on stage. I think it was the slippers that really pushed the look for me. I was so hopeless, and it just made me laugh to myself. Anthony Portimire cheated on Marissa after barely a couple of years, too stupid to be a fucking man and not some pathetic fuck boy. I'd been in love with her since I was sixteen and the moment we reunited seven years ago, it was like every ounce of that love came back full force. So fast and forceful it was like I was behind the wheel of my race car.

It didn't matter what twisted shit Portimire was up to, he couldn't understand what real love was let alone what Marissa and I felt for each other. And that was just sad for him.

"You guys are never gonna guess what just happened." Acacia was practically bouncing in place, her face alight with giddiness. Next to her, Marrisa looked amused but also slightly…guilty.

Cameron's radio crackled and the people in charge of the show all began making moves. It was crazy how the crowd on the other side of the curtain had been relatively quiet until just now, the feeling of anticipation taking over as their chatter grew. Clive started my way, motioning me to get zipped up and grab my helmet, and just like that, whatever Acacia had to tell us would have to wait.

"Okay guys, let's go have a great show, kick some ass, all that jazz." Cameron, carrying Marissa's six-inch heels moved to her side to hand them off to Acacia who would be helping Marissa into the spiky footwear.

Just as Marissa took her seat on the side of the stage, the sound of pings from everyone's cellphones started going off. I hadn't zipped up yet, so I grabbed my phone and looked at the notification. Just as I swiped open my phone, I heard Jackson's groan followed but Cameron's complaint ring through the air.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Marissa, what the hell did you do ?"

There was a video. Of Marissa running into Anthony as she was exiting her dressing room. He was leering at her, mouth running with bullshit if the way Acacia's face was reddening was any indication. The guards at his side were trying to drag him away but he was a persistent fucker, his hands trying to grab at Marissa. And then just as quickly as he started yapping, Marissa's knee lifted up and right into his crotch.

"Holy shit!"

"Right in the balls? I'm saving this forever!"

That seemed to be the consensus. My eyes found Marissa's and she was smiling, still a little guilty, but without an ounce of actual shame. I couldn't help it; I stalked right toward her and kissed her hard, our difference in height eased slightly now that she was in her heels.

"I can't wait to get you alone later," I whispered against her lips as Acacia giggled next to where we stood.

"All right you two, break it up. We got an award show performance to complete."

"Drive safe, baby." With one more quick peck, Marissa took her mic from Acacia and sauntered off, passing her still in shock band as she got ready to hit the stage.

"All right, let's do this." With a clap of my hands, I headed to my car, accepting my head gear to give this awards show a performance it wouldn't ever forget.