A few girls stopped him too, of course. Macy stuck close by his side, earning more than a few weird or outright hostile looks. Brian commented to her that he couldn’t wait to see how many texts Candace received alerting her that he was here with some other chick. When they reached a door to the side of the stage, a huge, black-clad bouncer who looked like someone from pro wrestling cut a glance their way. Great. This was probably going to be trouble.
She should’ve known better. Brian’s clout wouldn’t be denied. Grinning, the guy put out his hand, and Brian grasped it, engaging in those quick back-slapping half-hugs guys did. They exchanged obscenity-laced small talk for a minute while Macy shifted her weight back and forth, impatience eating at her. At last, Brian asked, “Ghost back there, man?”
“Haven’t seen him come out. He all right?”
“I think his head’s a little f**ked up.”
“I think more than his head is f**ked up.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Were you f**kin’ here just now?”
“Actually, no, we were late.”
“He demolished his f**kin’ guitar, bro. I mean, that shit goes down on a regular basis around here, but it’s not like him. Great show, though. Sucks you missed it.” The guy looked at her, doing a quick once-over, then raised his pierced eyebrow at Brian. “Where’s the Candy girl?”
“Back home. This is her friend. She’s the one needing to talk to Ghost.”
The big guy scoffed and shook his head. “Somebody needs to do something with him.”
“Can we get back there? We’ll take care of him.”
“Sure thing.” He winked at Macy and jerked his head toward the door. “Go on back, sweetheart.”
“Thanks,” she said, knowing she wasn’t heard over the rambunctious crowd. Brian preceded her through, and she crossed her arms, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Pure alcohol and enough weed that she would probably flunk a drug test tomorrow. But at least there were fewer people. Her head was beginning to pound.
Brian had apparently been back here before too; he checked a few different places, asked a few people they ran into. No one had seen Seth since he left the stage. At last they encountered a short guy with a Mohawk making out in a hallway with a purple-haired girl even shorter than him. He held a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, and when he broke away from his giggling partner, he took a swig that probably drained half the bottle. Spying Brian and Macy coming toward them, he held it out in greeting.
“Ross! You catch our set?”
“Missed it. I just need Ghost. Where is he?”
“Probably passed out.” This time he held his bottle toward a closed door at the other end of the hall. “I saw him go in there. No, wait.” He grinned. “I saw Raina go in there too. So he probably ain’t passed out. I’d leave him alone all the same.”
Macy’s heart all but stopped. Brian echoed the words that exploded in her mind, in exactly the tone she thought them.
“Raina? What the f**k is she even doing here?”
Mohawk’s make-out partner kept trying to kiss him, tugging his face toward hers. He let her for a second, and just as Macy was ready to step between them and pry them apart, he broke away. “Mark had her come.”
“I’m sure he didn’t check with Ghost about that.”
“All the same, she’s here. And in there. With him.”
Macy’s entire universe had focused on that door. The two guys went on talking, but she wasn’t aware of anything but that freaking door. And what might be going on behind it. Her head rushed with blood; she trembled all over.
“…the f**k did you give him, Gus? Are you out of your mind?”
“Hey, he asked me— Dude, I’d grab her if I were you!”
The last was said as her mind finally snapped and she stalked toward that door, every step seeming to make it farther away rather than closer. She hoped she never reached it, even as she knew she had to.
“Macy, wait!” Brian caught her arm, and she yanked it from his grasp, the tears already building.
“Stop it.”
She reached for the knob; he grabbed her again and planted her back to the wall, inches away from her intended destination. “No, babe, I’m not going through this shit. I’m getting you outta here.”
“He wouldn’t…be with her, would he?” How humiliating, how f**king mortifying, that Brian, that anyone would see her like this. For that, she hated Seth Warren right then. Hated him and hoped she never saw him again—except to open that door and scream at him what an idiot he was for getting back with that…that…whatever she was.
She’s someone who knows him better than you, looks like he wants, acts like he wants, almost had his child, for God’s sake. And what are you? Someone he thinks will break his heart someday. While she might be off her damn rocker, she’s someone who would never do that. And he knows it.
“Macy, he’s drunk. And possibly on something else, according to Gus. Even if he is with her…he’s not in his right mind.”
“I can’t know this and not confront him.”
“I can’t be a part of it. The guy just lost his grandmother. He just lost you. For weeks now, he’s had to deal with Brooke and his f**king brother. My advice, Macy, is to go back home and hash it all out once he’s back and coherent. This isn’t the way.”
The tears spilled, and all of her hatred wasn’t reserved for Seth right then; a little of it was for herself, for letting herself be so upset. For letting herself be affected. Brian, tight-jawed and angry, didn’t let his burning blue gaze leave hers for a moment. Probably trying to reassure himself she wasn’t going to snap and start screaming. “All right?” he finally said. “I’ll take you to get a hotel room. Then I’ll come back and take care of him, whoop his ass, whatever you need me to do. But I need to make sure he sobers up.”
“He makes a habit of this, does he?” she said bitterly.
His eyes narrowed, and she knew all of his anger wasn’t at Seth, either. “No. Not really. But I can distinctly recall one other time.”
“Are you trying to put the blame for this on me? Because that’s bullshit, Brian. I know that’s your ‘boy’ and all, but if he’s in there screwing her, it’s because either he wants to be, or he was stupid enough to get hammered with an unstable ex floating around. Grief is no excuse. He shouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“I know it’s his fault, all right? But I’m not letting you go in there all the same.”
The hell you aren’t. “Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms and staring at some blurred fixed point to the right of Brian’s head. Hesitantly, he let her go, first one hand and then the other falling away. She did her best to look whipped and miserable—hell, that wasn’t a stretch.
“Look, I’m sorry.” He gave her a gentle nudge toward the direction they’d come from. Mohawk and the object of his affections had moved on to a more private locale, at least. She let herself be led away. “We’ll get you settled, and then you can call Candace, and you girls can rage all night about what slimy pigs we are.”