Page 80 of Pieces of Me

Taken aback by the vitriol, Scott held his hands up and backed away, shrugging. “Sorry.”

He was about to push the door to the bathroom open when Lance suddenly made a choked sound. “You’re always so cold. So fuckin’ cold. Don’t care about anyone or anything, do you?”

Scott stood there with his back to him as Lance continued to lash out. “You use people and throw them away like fuckin’ garbage.” When Scott didn’t reply, Lance poked him hard in the shoulder. “Say something!”

With a weary sigh, Scott faced him again. “What do you want me to say, Lance?” he asked as gently as he could. “Other than I’m sorry I hurt you.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture, not sure what else he could do.

Lance’s face crumpled, and he gave a small sob. “Just tell me why I wasn’t good enough,” he pleaded. “Why?” He grabbed Scott’s arm. “I tried so hard to be what you wanted. Why wasn’t it enough?”

Scott was tired, and his head hurt, and all he wanted to do was go home. “I don’t know.”

Lance sneered at that, moving closer, the smell of the booze on his breath wafting into Scott’s face. “Bullshit. You won’ tell me, so I’ll tell you. ’Cause you’re a selfish prick who’s only in love with himself. Fucking you was like being in bed with two people, not one―Scotty and his Big Ego.” He poked Scott again, this time in the chest. “You think you’re better’n anyone else, so you treat good people like pieces of ass. Well, we’re all sick of your shit.”

Scott’s emotions were raw and already too close to the surface after his earlier conversation with Rylan. Suddenly he was that vulnerable teenager again, standing and listening to Heather rail about how horrible he was, how unlovable.

He knocked Lance’s finger away. “Fine,” he snarled. “Everyone is sick of me and my shit. Why don’t you go suck one of their dicks and whine to them about what an asshole I am instead of borin’ me with it? I don’t give a flyin’ fuck.” He was enraged to hear the trailer trash in his speech, that hick accent he’d worked so hard to banish, trying to break free. Only Rylan got to hear it. Only Rylan understood that’s not who he was…

“Oh, I think the only one sucking dicks around here tonight is you,” Lance shot back. “Couldn’t wait for the door to hit me in the ass before you were out collecting a little twink boy to crush into dust beneath your heel next, could you? Saw those pictures of you with him at the Peak.” He made a show of craning his neck around, still unsteady on his feet. “Where is he? Gonna warn him ’bout you. Gonna tell him to run far, far away from you. I’ll protect him!”

Scott was startled into a burst of laughter at the melodramatic pronouncement. “Rylan?” he asked, a note of incredulity in his voice. “Crushed beneath my heel? Never.” He shook his head, still smiling, and Lance’s face took on a bitter twist.

“So that’s how it is. You actually prefer that fugly little shit over me? What, does he have a mouth like a Hoover or something? Is he your little bitch?”

Scott felt his face flush with real anger. “Shut up,” he growled. “Shut the fuck up.”

Lance’s eyes widened as he realized he’d struck a nerve. “Yeah,” he said with a malicious smirk. “People were messaging me all day wondering when you’d decided to lower your standards―” He gasped when Scott reached out and twisted his fists in the front of Lance’s shirt, hauling him up and so close Lance was standing on his tiptoes.

“Say whatever the fuck you want about me,” Scott hissed, “but don’t ever talk about Rylan like that, to anyone. You hear what I’m sayin’ to you?” He gave Lance a little shake, feeling Lance’s fingernails scrabbling at his wrists as he tried to get Scott to let him go.

So Scott did, shoving Lance away, taking savage satisfaction in the way he stumbled and fell against the wall. Lance straightened with difficulty, pulling his shirt down from where it was bunched up around his waist, his face red and his eyes full of tears.

“I think that’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from you,” he choked. “I just wish it’d been for me.” He walked unsteadily away, a couple of his fangirls rushing to comfort him as they shot Scott death glares over their shoulders.

In fact there were scores of people observing their little confrontation, the inevitable phones out and pointed at him, images and video no doubt already uploaded to every social media site known to man. Oh, shit.

Scott squared his shoulders and went into the bathroom to take his interrupted piss. He was startled when the door swung open to admit Corey.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded. “Keep your little domestic problems out of the club!”

Scott moved to the sink to wash his hands. Yeah, I get it. Drama’s good till shit gets real. He didn’t voice the cynical thought aloud, mumbling, “I’m sorry, Corey. I got carried away.”

“MC₂ isn’t going to want some thug, some white trash brawler, representing their brand,” Corey shouted in disgust. “I’m warning you, Scott, you’d better not fuck this up.” He yanked open the door so hard it slammed into the wall as he stormed out.

Scott leaned down to splash his face with water, feeling it cool his heated cheeks.

Toxic. Fuck-up. Trash.

There was no doubt he was Heather Ashworth’s son.

✩✩✩

The news of Scott’s altercation with Lance spread like wildfire throughout the club. Everyone was hunched over their phones watching the videos people uploaded, or analyzing the pictures, the buzz pervasive and electric.

Rylan observed Scott closely. He seemed unaffected by it all as he laughed, danced, and partied. There was always someone on his arm, most recently a stunningly beautiful redheaded woman in a tight, low-cut dress. They’d just come off the dance floor, and the woman was perched on his lap, feeding Scott vodka shots with chasers of fresh lemon slices dipped in sugar for him to suck on.

As Rylan passed by, he could hear Scott’s throaty laugh, could see his hands resting on the woman’s waist, right underneath her full breasts. To all outward appearances everything was fine, but there was a tightness about his mouth, a pinched look around his eyes, that let Rylan know he was in pain―maybe physically, definitely emotionally―and his heart ached for him.

“Rylan, hey! I wanted to give you this before I take off.”