Loud: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Male Romance) (27 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE

Brooke

The rumbling of a V8 engine conveyed that Garrett had
arrived to pick me up and take me to the bachelor auction. I did one last
make-up check to make sure everything looked perfect since I’d be in the
limelight as co-chair — it did. I smoothed a hand over the black cocktail dress
I'd chosen to wear and admired the new pair of heels I'd picked up earlier with
a smile. I couldn’t help thinking it was a shame Emerson wasn’t going to see me
all glammed up. Then I wanted to slap myself for even thinking about him. I
shook the thought from my mind and locked up the apartment to head down to the
car.

Garrett, as he had before, was waiting next to his
Mustang holding the passenger door open for me. He was dressed in a light beige
suit and I had to say, he looked pretty attractive.

“Well, hey there, gorgeous!” he beamed with a toothy
smile. “I do believe I might be a little weak in the knees!”

“Thanks,” I said with a nervous chuckle. The
compliment was nice, but there was still something about him I couldn't quite
put my finger on that felt a little off. I told myself it wasn’t him; it was my
past experience with men. It was at least a distraction from thinking about
Emerson who, despite all my best efforts to forget, remained constantly running
through my thoughts. Damn him.

Garrett and I headed over to campus, making light
conversation along the way. As I listened, I wondered if my uncertain feeling
about Garrett was there because he always seemed to have the perfect responses
to whatever I said, and he was really well-informed on . . . well, pretty much
everything,
it seemed. Admittedly, it was kind of difficult to escape his charm.

As we rolled through campus, Garrett's car certainly
turned a few heads. I could feel people staring as I stepped out of the
beautiful, gleaming vehicle dressed to the nines with a dapper-looking man on
my arm.

“Shall we?” Garrett said as he held his arm for me to
take and nodded his head toward the main hall where the bachelor auction was to
be held.

“We shall,” I replied with a smile.

The team had done a great job decking the place out.
Everyone was dressed to kill, to top it off. It was an awesome sight to see,
and I felt proud of our RAG team for having pulled it off so perfectly. We
walked through the main entrance, where Garrett paid his entry fee (even though
it wasn't as if he was gonna be placing any bids), before we headed up to the
stage and over to the desk I'd be sitting at with Stacy. The audiovisual guys
were still setting up the microphones and cables. I looked around, but it
seemed Stacy hadn't arrived yet, so Garrett took a seat next to me in the chair
Stacy would later occupy.

One of the other volunteers from RAG saw me and came
over to have a quick chat about microphone placement and a question one of the
bachelors had asked. While I was talking to her, out of the corner of my eye, I
saw Garrett take his phone out of his pocket. He started typing something on it
and that strange smile spread across his lips again — the smile that made me
feel distinctly uncomfortable. When I was finished with my conversation, he quickly
slipped the phone back into his pocket, seemingly unaware that I had noticed
him sending messages on it.

I checked the time. “Hmm, I think we may have been a
little earlier than needed,” I commented. “There's still a little bit to go.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I just assumed there would be more
traffic on the way. Better safe than sorry though, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Hey, they have drinks for sale just outside in the
hall. You want one?” Garrett asked.

“Sure.”

“I think there was fruit punch, tea, soda, or coffee.
What’s your poison?”

I chuckled. “I think I'll go with the fruit punch.”

“I'll be back in a minute.”

He stood and walked off the stage and then headed out
into the hall. I noticed his phone lying on the chair. It had obviously slipped
out of his pocket when he'd stood up.

I knew I shouldn't, but a burning curiosity compelled
me to pick it up and have a look at what he’d been typing. It was that gut
instinct I had ignored so many times with Andrew. There had just been
something
about the look in his eyes and the smile on his lips while he'd been typing
that message that had me incredibly suspicious.

I swiped the simple L-shaped code I’d seen him do
several times and hoped it was right. The screen lit up. I knew it wasn't
right, and it wasn't something I'd normally do, but my sixth sense had been
tingling furiously about this guy, and after everything I’d dealt with in the
man department, I was at a point of stepping over the line to make sure I
didn’t pick another d-bag to let my walls down for.

I glanced at the screen to find his text messages
still open with some guy named Nick. As I read through them, my jaw dropped and
my blood began to boil.

Nick: So, you gonna seal the deal with the uptight
chem partner tonight?

Garrett: Not tonight, unfortunately. She's a tough nut
to crack, but she'll put out soon enough. They always do.

Nick: It's that Mustang, man. The rumble of that V8
hits 'em right where they need it.

Garrett: LOL! It's a vibrator with wheels.

Nick: Did you give her the bullshit story about
restoring it from scrap with your dad?

Garrett: Yep. And like they always do, she fell for
it, hook, line, and sinker.

Nick: Awesome. Well, don’t take too long baggin’ that
one. I’m still two ahead of ya.

Garrett: No way! I’m at 12! And I've had blowjobs from
another 8 on top of that. No way you’re at 14.

Nick: I am. And, I have 3 videos. Bonus points if you
can get video of the uptight chick. She's smokin' hot, dude. I wouldn't mind a
look at that naked.

Garrett: You know you'll be the first to get the video
when it happens. Note that I said WHEN, not IF. And-”

The stage door slammed, and
I looked up to see Garrett coming back. With my heart
pounding in my chest and anger and disgust gushing through my veins, I quickly
locked up the phone again and slipped it back on the chair. I couldn't say
anything to him, of course. Doing so would mean I revealing that I'd snooped
around in his phone. But I didn’t need to say anything. I’d learned what I
needed to know and I'd never speak to the scumbag again after tonight. I'd find
an excuse, and he'd be gone. When he handed me the glass of punch and smiled
that fake, insincere smile of his at me, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more
— vomit or throw the drink in his face.

“Thanks,” I said, doing my best to keep my emotions in
check.

Luckily, at that moment, Stacy showed up to divert my
attention and rage.

“You should go find a seat with the audience there,” I
said to Garrett. When he stood, his phone was still in the chair. “Oh, look,
you left your phone on the chair. Don't forget it.”

“Thanks,” he said as he picked it up. “I'll see you
later, beautiful.”

I pressed my lips tightly together in a forced smile
and nodded as I watched him go, seething with disgust and anger as he did, but
managing to keep it under control.

Leslie passed Garrett as he walked through the stage doors
She was walking quickly, like a woman on a mission. I’d seen the look on her
face before. Pure determination. Something was up.

She saw me at the desk on stage and made a beeline
straight for me just as the stage lights came on and the other lights started
to dim.

She ran up onto the stage and my eyes widened. “Les,
what are you doing? You've gotta get off the stage; we're starting!”

“Meet me backstage at intermission, alright?” she said
with urgency coloring her voice. “It's really super important! You are going to
want to know about this.”

“Alright, alright, backstage at intermission! Got it.
Now go, off the stage!”

“Be there!” she demanded as she hurried off stage.

Stacy nudged me in the ribs as I watched Leslie
disappear into the shadows of the side stage. I couldn’t imagine what could be
so important to have her acting as if it were some sort of emergency.

“You ready?” Stacy asked.

I nodded. “Let's get this show on the road.”

She smiled, stood from her seat, stepped behind the
first podium, and took a microphone. I followed her lead and picked up the
second mic that had been set up at a my own podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, the sound of her
voice echoing through the crowded hall as it vibrated from every speaker.
“Welcome to tonight's RAG charity bachelor auction! We have a stunning lineup
of eligible bachelors who are just waiting to take you on the date of your
dreams! I hope you're ready to bid and bid generously!”

A cheer resounded through the auditorium.

“It certainly sounds like you are ready! I won’t keep
you ladies waiting. Please welcome our first bachelor of the evening, Calum
Jones!”

A tall, handsome guy in a white suit sauntered onto
stage holding a bouquet of flowers and a smile beaming from his bearded face. I
turned to the first page of my booklet and began to read.

“Calum is twenty-two years old and a member of our own
Blue Devil basketball team where he plays first-string point guard. Calum’s
hobbies include playing the drums, recording and editing videos, and cooking Mediterranean
cuisine…”

The first half of our bachelor auction took about an
hour. But when the time came for an intermission, I did what I had to do to
help Stacy and then hurried to the backstage area to meet Leslie, curious as
hell about what her emergency was. She was there waiting, tapping her foot
impatiently on the floor.

“You took your sweet time!” she exclaimed.

“Sorry, I had to tally up the bids so far before I
could get backstage. What's the problem? Is everything alright? Are
you
alright?”

“I'm fine. But there's been a major, major screw-up
involving
you!
And, since part of it was my fault, I'm doing what I can
to make it right.”

I scrunched my forehead and peered at her in a
confused state. “Screw-up? How? What exactly happened? What are you talking
about?”

“Hard to explain. Just watch this.”

She tapped a few times on her phone and brought up a
video for me to watch. I was surprised to see our neighbor Chris. It seemed to
be a hidden recording. The bottom half of the screen was covered by material,
evidently someone's pocket, in which the phone had been hidden.

“You listening?” asked Les as she held her finger over
the play button on the screen.

“Sure. But what on earth does our neighbor Chris have
to do with anything?”

“Just listen, and you'll see.”

She hit play, and the voice that came from the phone
speaker immediately cut straight through my ear-drums, and traveled directly
into my heart: Emerson.

“Hey, man,” Emerson said.

“Dude,” a very drunk-looking Chris replied.

“Are you seriously wasted at three o’clock in the
afternoon?”

“What? It’s a Saturday,” Chris mumbled.

“Are you planning on having another party tonight? You
know you can’t be loud again. You’re on probation.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, Mom. It’s just gonna be a
couple of the girls coming over a little later.”

“Girls? As in more than one?” Emerson asked.

“Well, at first, man. Only one of them is gonna stay.
I’m a one woman at a time kinda man, ya know, bro,” Chris said with an
inebriated laugh.

“One at a time, huh? Tell me, Chris, how many
different girls have you had over just this month?”

Chris laughed loudly and obnoxiously before replying.
“Dude, I've been killing it! I think eight or ten different chicks, just this
month. How's
that
for playing the game, bro?!” He laughed again and then
reached for a beer, from which he drank a hefty swig.

“I hope you haven't been doing anything in the kitchen
or the living room, dude,” Emerson commented.

“No way, man, only in my bedroom. Why do you care,
though? You don't even live here anymore.”

Leslie paused the clip.

“Wait,” I stated, glaring at her. “I’m confused.
Emerson doesn't live next door to us anymore?”

“Seriously? That’s what you got from all that?” She rolled
her eyes at me. “No. He doesn’t. And he hasn't since the night the cops came
over. He's been living at his mother's house until last night when he moved
into his new apartment — which he had to sell his motorcycle to pay for. Now,
keep listening and pay close attention.”

She pressed play on the video again.

“Oh, just asking,” Emerson said. “Tell me something,
what's the view out of your bedroom window again, what can you see?”

Chris raised an eyebrow as he sipped on the beer
again. “Huh? Dude, you've been in my room. You know what the view from my
window is. Why the hell are you asking me that?”