Wrecked

One

My alarm blares from the bedside table and I curse myself for forgetting to turn it off last night. It's Saturday, and my plans of sleeping in are suddenly blown to smithereens.

Dammit.

Once I'm awake, that's it. There is no shutting off my brain. I watch the ceiling fan spin above my head for a few moments. My room is cold, just the way I like it. There are two things that are an absolute necessity for me to get any sleep, that is a fan on the highest setting and complete silence.

I've always been more on the anxious side, and small noises drive me crazy. A ticking clock, a dripping faucet, or even a bird chirping outside my window. God forbid I share my bed with a man who snores, I'd lose my mind.

"Jules, I know you're up. I heard your alarm." My roommate and best-friend Alyssa calls from the kitchen.

I groan loud enough that I know she can hear it.

"Oatmeal or fruit?" She asks.

"Both?" 

I make my way into the kitchen and slide onto a bar stool she places a bowl of oatmeal with chopped strawberries in it. "Thanks, you're the best."

"I know." She says snidely. "So are you going to come with me tonight?"

I had almost forgotten about the concert. She won two tickets to some rock concert in a contest at work and was adamant that I was going to be her plus one. That wasn't really my scene, but it was also nearly impossible to tell her no.

"Who is it again?" I ask, and she rolls her eyes.

"Your complete lack of pop culture knowledge astounds me, Jules. It's Chaotix. You know, only the hottest band of the decade." Alyssa chides.

I can't help it if rock music isn't my thing, or that I have no desire to be shoulder to shoulder with sweaty strangers all night.

"I don't know, Lys. I think I have some work to catch up on." I know that excuse is bogus, but it's worth a shot.

She shakes her head, "Oh, no you don't. You are going. It will be fun, I promise."

Fun. Our definitions of the word are vastly different.

To me, it's a good book and a cup of coffee. It's a movie night with wine and Chinese takeout. For Alyssa, it's getting dolled up and hitting the town. We are inherently opposite, but somehow our friendship works.

Our apartment is small, but perfect for just the two of us. Alyssa works as a barista at a local coffee shop when she isn't trolling for small acting gigs. I finally got an internship with a local public relations consultant firm, which meant I was one step closer to my dream of becoming a publicist. One day I want to open my own private firm, but for now juggling coffee runs and drafting portions of image proposals for my unappreciative boss Valerie will have to do.

"I really do have a proposal to finish up before Monday." I offer, but she shrugs it off.

"Please, Jules. I don't want to go alone." She pokes out her lip and bats her eyelashes. This pout thing is always her go-to when I won't agree to one of her schemes.

I groan, "Fine. I have nothing to wear, though."

She claps her hands together, "Oh that's a non issue. I'm sure I have something that will work."

This was not going to end well for me. Our taste in fashion was in complete contrast, much like everything else.

"Great." I mutter sarcastically. 

After breakfast I retreat back into my bedroom to finish up the proposal I was working on for Monday's meeting. My objective? Come up with strategies and tactics to successfully improve the image of Naomi Keith, the heiress to the Keith Hotels and Resorts. Her father hired us after a rather salacious video surfaced involving Naomi and one of her body guards. More specifically, the kind of video you'd find on PornHub with millions of hits. Her father is famous for the empire he built, and his daughter is famous for her wild escapades and sex tape. 

I outline several potential angles, and when I reach the final bullet point I can't help but smile. It's good. Damn good. I know the team will love it, and I can already visualize Valerie rolling her eyes when the partners pat me on the back.

Valerie has made it clear since the first time I spoke up during a meeting to make a suggestion that my presence infuriated her. I knew I was meant to keep quiet and observe, but the words shot out of my mouth before I could stop it. The team was thrilled with my ideas. Her, not so much. Either way, I couldn't let her get me down. I was going to secure a position at Acton Public Relations, and my bitchy supervisor wasn't going to stand in my way. It isn't my fault that her ideas are stale and the partners want a fresh set of eyes on things.

I open pull up the browser and type Chaotix into the search engine. I want to get an idea of what I'm getting myself into tonight.

An array of pictures appear. I enlarge the first one, it's a group photo of what I assume to be the band. Each man is unnaturally gorgeous, of course. It's hard to make it in that industry without being easy on the eyes. Talent plays second fiddle. The man who seems to be the leader is oiled up, shirtless, and a pair of tight leather pants lie low on his hips. His skin is covered in various tattoos, and a matte black guitar is strapped to his back.

Okay, so he's hot. Like really hot.

The drummer sports long blonde hair tied back into a messy bun, and the guitarist looks like he should be on the side of a bus modeling Calvin Klein briefs. The bassist has the most normal appearance, even then he's still one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen. My eyes keep circling back the the front man, though. His eyes are haunting, like they are full of dark secrets.

I click onto a YouTube link for one of their latest music videos. If I thought he was haunting before, this was the cherry on top. The way he sings into the camera makes it seem like he's staring right into your soul.

"A crowded room full of faces I don't know,

They scream my name, my head's about to blow.

Always there, I sit upon this throne-

Why the hell do I still feel so alone?"

The lyrics are in sharp contrast to the mood of the video. He's singing about feeling alone, but women are throwing themselves at him. They grind on his hard body as he belts out the lyrics. It's obvious the motive is to project as much sex appeal as possible. He seems to enjoy the attention from them as his hands roam the body of one of the groupies.

I shake my head, this is so not the approach I would take. But then again, creating a brand for socialites and B-list celebrities is a bit different than creating one for a rock band.

I shut the laptop and head for the bathroom. A shower is exactly what I need.

The moment I step into the spray of hot water all of the tension leaves my body. I run a razor over my legs. If I had to guess whatever Alyssa has in store for me will be short, and I doubt stubble would be a good look. I stand under the water for as long as I can stand it before it begins to run cold.

As I wrap the towel around my body Alyssa calls out to me from the other side of the door. "Hurry up, I need to get in too!"

I can't help the sinking feeling brewing in the pit of my stomach. Why do I feel so uneasy about tonight? It's just a concert, I can handle this for one night.