Playing Russian Roulette.

Who is gonna save you
When I'm gone?
And who'll watch over you
When I'm gone?
-Alter Bridge.

Clubs in Dallas, Texas.

The glowing computer screen flashed the search results into view. Several links popped out at me, but I ended up clicking on one that said Dallas, Texas Nightlife: A Full List of Bars and Clubs. The page was bright, a blinding red color, with little white words and black links to the listed drinking destinations.

The bar list was no interest to me. I disregarded it and scrolled down to the second collection of links, to the ones leading to club websites. Some of the names were in Spanish; I ignored them and kept going. None of the small descriptions were catching my eye. They all sounded typical… boring.

And for my grand master plan, I needed something so much better, something that was unlike all the other clubs the boys had visited. I wanted to give them an amazing night on their first free day of Warped 2009.

The reason? I wanted Max to know the past was water under the bridge. I forgave him -- to a degree -- for the fights. My forgiveness did not go completely through, however. The old hurt from his harsh words refused to let me do such a thing, and he hadn’t exactly been the sweetest guy on recent instances, so he would be put on probation.

The other reason was simply for my benefit. Five months had passed since I had any sort of alcoholic drink whatsoever, and I missed how fun everything like drinking and partying used to be with the boys. And I missed letting go! I was sick of the sheltered life Devin and Stefan built for me.

Under their watchful eye, there was no alcohol, no cigarettes, no drugs, no parties. Period. Zero exceptions no matter what happened or how hard I begged.

I knew they were trying to protect me, but shielding me from things we used to love such as drinking -- and the real life -- was only making things worse! Only sinking me further into depression because I had to watch my best friends drink cans of beer while I objected to what they offered me.

That was the situation the day before when Max and myself returned from the stage, when I denied a sip of Max’s beer and Gabrielle called me boring, the horrid bitch. Max stuck up for me, of course, but it didn’t ease my uncomfortable realization that I changed more than I thought.

I remembered how great it had been all the late nights with Robert and Monte, and even the times when Max tagged along. Those nights were the best memories from my years daring Ronnie, and they would always be the best.

All the drinking games we made up spur of the moment. All the stupid things we did and all the trouble we got into. The drunken games of karaoke and the pictures and videos we saw the next morning that we didn’t remember taking.

How could I not want that back? I wanted to prove to them and Gabrielle that I wasn’t boring now! I was still their lovely Juliet. And it was my only means of fun and it meant more time spent with my love interest, with… my fake husband.

My eyes swooped away from the screen to my left hand. Max’s ring was still on my ring finger, glittering up at me under the soft lights above the dinette table. I hadn’t taken it off yet; didn’t want to. The little fake engagement meant more than it should to me.

But I loved it. Just the words “will you marry me?” coming from his lips made my bones ache with want. Why couldn’t it be real? Because we haven’t even had a date. Why would be propose to me when I was not his girlfriend?

He wouldn’t. Simple as that.

I returned my gaze to the computer, scrolling further down on the webpage. I passed a few more plain clubs until I stumbled upon a section titled unique nightlife. I squealed and clapped my hands together. That was unerringly what I was looking for.

Ghost barked from somewhere beneath the table. I glanced down. He was standing beside me feet, staring up at me with wide, surprised yet love-filled eyes. Bending slightly, I scooped him up in one hand and placed him on the tabletop beside my computer.

He curled into a ball and laid his head on his paws, his eyes never once leaving me. I scrunched up my nose and patted his head.

“Don’t tell me I’m under your spotlight, too, Ghostie,” I whispered, nuzzling his face with my own. His fur prickled the sides of my cheeks, his wet nose nudging my neck and my ear as he sniffed fervently.

His tongue licked against my jaw line, as if answering yes to my question. I shook my head and pulled away.

“There is no need to be protective over Mommy,” I cooed, scratching his floppy, brown ear. “I will be fine going to a club with the boys, no matter what uncle Dev and Stefan think. The boys will be there, and Gab-ri-elle.”

My voice dripped with hatred. God, did I really want to go to an enclosed area with Gabrielle? Maybe she would get extremely drunk and be a fun person, not a contradicting bitch who apparently loved bothering Max and me about every itsy-bitsy thing.

Ghost cocked his head. Even for a dog, he looked doubtful. I waved my hand at him and looked back to my screen.

Only five clubs were under the unique nightlife section, but that was enough. I clicked on the first one on the list, a club called Purgatory. I skipped the intro on the page and watched several pictures flash into view.

One was of a bright red room, another a mellow looking one, the last being pure white and sparkling. The address was written on the side and I quickly wrote it down on the notepad I had beside Ghost before clicking on the link reading ‘levels’.

The first level was hell, apparently.

Club-goers can plunge into the organic design of Pit and Hell, dancing to break beat and hip-hop, in-tune with a state-of-the-art light show, reflecting from the surrounding polished surfaces of stainless steel, tin, and aluminum. Concrete bar tops and flooring contribute to an over all industrial feel---

“Oh!” I smacked my hand against the table, causing Ghost to jerk and jump backward. I grinned sheepishly at him. “Sorry. But, I just found the perfect club, honey. Pardon me for being excited.”

He got back into his comfortable ball and closed his eyes.

I went back to staring at the three levels of the club. Hell seemed like the level we would most fit in; they did body shots and had people dancing on the bars. Purgatory had a ladies lounge with a martini bar, and Heaven had cocktail waitresses dressed as angels.

The boys would love the half-naked cocktail waitresses, and spending some time in a ladies lounge with a bouncer and a one way window sounded like a great way to talk to Gabrielle and settled the odd word war we were battling in.

I honestly didn’t want to hate her. She was the closest thing I had ever had to a girlfriend. I usually only hung out with boys, but it felt nice talking to an actual woman who understood womanly things! Like cramps and cravings and, let’s face it, annoying boys.

And, if the conversation didn’t go so well, I would possibly just get her wasted and hope she made an awesome drunk. If not, I would shove her off on Craig or some guy in the crowd who was willing to take her.

It wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but she hadn’t been the nicest to me, so why bother? Why waste my breath?

I closed down the webpage and slid out of the dinette booth. I tiptoed toward the bathroom door and pressed my ear against it. The shower was still running, and I could hear laughing inside.

Good.

At the last second seemed like a good time to tell them where I was going, otherwise they would throw a fit and refuse to let me go.

Carefully, I rapped my knuckles against the door three times. The giggling ceased, but no response came. I knocked again.

“What?!” Stefan shouted over the streaming water.

“I’m going to the boys’ bus!” I called, turning to my bunk and retrieving my purse from the top. “And I’m taking Ghost so you two can have some alone time!” And live out my strange shower fantasy, minus Max.

“Okay, Jay! But be back by dinner -- Stefan!” Devin gasped and something hit the shower wall. Shampoo and soap bottles clattered to the ground, causing a commotion behind the closed door.

Ew, ew, ew. I could have gone my entire life without hearing the sexual sounds of my best friends. That was just… sick.

I darted back to the dinette table and shut my computer. I grabbed Ghost, my notepad, and bolted for the front door. Ghost whined and kicked his legs as I hopped down the steps and slammed the door. He fought against me, thrashing back and forth until his head smacked into my lower lip.

My hand flew to my mouth as pain seared through it. “Dammit, Ghost!” I swore, holding him at an arms length away from me. “You are insane, you know that? Shit, that hurt.”

His tail wagged. I rolled my eyes and pulled him back into my chest before circling around the front of the RV to the familiar black and silver tour bus. The white skull painted on one of the windows told me it was definitely theirs.

I swiped the back of my jacket sleeve across my lip, leaving a thin streak of blood on the yellow hearts. My mouth hurt, ached, and I could taste blood seeping onto my tongue.

Fuck. This would be a perfect way to greet the boys at nine in the morning. Hey, guys. Oh, don’t mind my excessively bleeding lip. It was just Ghost. So, you want to go to a club tonight?

Bracing myself, I raised my fist and knocked loudly on the aluminum door. Ghost made a sound, nudging my wrist with his muzzle. I set him on the concrete at my feet.

“What is wrong with you, buddy?” I whispered, petting his head. “You never act like this outside.”

He darted toward a spot to the left of the door. He dug his nose against the blacktop and started sniffing every which way along the spot.

I furrowed my brows. What on earth could he be smelling--

“I can’t believe you, Gabrielle!”

I froze. Craig? I looked around, my breathing hitched in my throat, and I spotted the slightly open window just a few inches away from the door. Yes, that had been Craig screaming at Gabrielle from inside the bus.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” That was definitely him. “Leila doesn’t need to see this! She’s only two! What will she think if she sees her mother fucked up? Fucking hell, I’m thinking about letting Juliet watch her for the day.”

I crouched to my knees beside Ghost, ducking away from the windows. I held my breath. I was eavesdropping! On an argument between Craig and Gabrielle about god-only-knows-what. Surely they would be upset if they saw me listening.

But I couldn’t stop myself. I was curious as to what would make Craig screech at Gabrielle like that, after he seemed so fond of her all the time.

…Maybe today wasn’t the best time to suggest a trip to the club. If they were going to fight the entire time, it was not worth it.

“I’m sorry, Craig!” This time it was Gabrielle. She was crying, it was quite obvious in her voice. “But, please, you know I would never do anything to hurt Leila… or you.”

“I know,” Craig responded. “It just seems like you have been, and I don’t want Leila to hate you because of this. She’ll eventually understand what’s going on. She won’t be a two-year-old forever.”

“I know, I know.” There was a pause on Gabrielle’s part. “I don’t want you to hate me, either.”

In all honesty, I thought for a split second that they might have kissed after. But then I remembered the people in question -- er, the girl in question. Gabrielle would not be kissing Craig unless he called the engagement back on, I knew her well enough to understand that much.

But it would have made one hell of a romantic soap opera moment. Actually, I had seen that about a million and seven times in romance movies and soap operas, but it was still the point.

Silence fell inside the bus. I rose from the ground, taking Ghost with me. Bracing myself, I knocked loudly on the door again.

It flung open. I snapped my head up to meet Gabrielle’s worried gaze. She looked exhausted and… sick?… about something. Her hair was yanked back in a messy bun and she wore nothing but an over-sized t-shirt and a tea-length, silk robe.

I let my lips part in a gape. All the negative thoughts I had before about her being a horrid bitch evaporated, flew out the window. I no longer wanted to confront her about her asinine comments. Instead, I wanted to stick her in bed with a mug of hot chocolate and repeatedly take her temperature.

“Gabby, are you alright? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck!” Okay, not the best way to ask someone if they were feeling sick or not. “I mean… uh… did you sleep last night?”

She slowly shook her head back and forth. “Not a wink.” Her voice was raspy and shaky.

I jumped onto the first step and pulled the arm not occupied by Ghost around her torso. “Are you sick or something?” I whispered.

She feebly nodded her head. “I -- y-yes, I think I am.”

I let her go, and she stepped away, back onto the landing and turned toward the living area. One of the boys mumbled something, but I couldn’t tell who it was or what he said.

I pulled the door closed before moving up beside her and setting Ghost on the ground once more. He scurried away, darting into the living area where Craig, Bryan, and Robert were. I swept my gaze over them…

And a laugh erupted from my throat. The scene laid out before me was both hilarious and sexy in every possible way.

All three boys were in their pajamas, standing in a line at the kitchen counter. Bryan, who was wearing a pair of shorts and a wife beater, had his head resting on Robert’s shoulder. Robert in a plaid shirt and black cotton pants, had his arm around Bryan.

Then, there was Craig. He stood closest to Gabrielle and me, with a sleeping Leila tucked protectively in his bare arms, her head curled onto his bare chest… His glorious, toned chest and defined abs. He was gorgeous.

I bit back a gasp.

Sweet six packs! Someone has been working out! I moved my gaze away, to the ground at my feet, and swiped my hair behind my ear.

“Morning, Julie,” Robert called.

I waved, keeping my head down. “Good morning, Rob.”

Gabrielle reached out and grabbed my face, forcing me to look up at her. I thought she must have seen me staring and now wanted to claw my eyes out with her fake fingernails, but, instead, she touched my lip with her index finger, grimacing.

“You’re bleeding,” she pointed out.

Phew. Reminder to Juliet and all of Juliet’s multiple personalities: don’t stare at boys that other girls like! Especially when said girls are in room with you! That might get you involved in a cat fight.

Yes, and complete the boys’ sexual fantasies. Just what I wanted to do early in the morning.

“Ghost hit me with his head a second ago,” I explained, moving to wipe the blood on my sleeve again. Gabrielle snatched my wrist in my hand, stopping me.

“Craig, can you please get a wet washcloth? Juliet’s lip looks awful.”

And she looked like she had been hit by a truck. Suddenly, my comment didn’t seem so bad, now that everyone was pointing out the terrible state of my busted lip.

Ha! Ha ha. If they thought a tiny thing like a busted lip was horrible, they should have been around the last few months before Ronnie went to jail. The things he did to me paled in comparison; the bruises he left had made even Max take notice.

But only Max. Those violent outbursts had ultimately been the reason Max and me kissed in the first place, because we started talking about real things, holding an actual conversation with each other, and things just escalated.

Hm. Maybe Max would take pity on me again for my injured lip. It couldn’t do any damage.

“M‘kay, Gabby.” Craig passed Leila off to Gabrielle, who forced me to sit down in the booth of the dinette table. He ran a cloth underneath the stream of water spewing from the kitchen sink and strode over to me.

He -- and his lovely assets -- bent over me and pressed the wet fabric to my lip. The cold water sent a shot of pain through the entire right side of my body and I gasped, my hands flying out and grabbing the only thing close to me: Craig’s arm.

He pulled the cloth away, making an apologetic sound. I let my hands drop from his arm to my lap. My stomach was doing three sixties in my abdomen; Gabrielle was going to kill me. I could almost feel her eyes boring a hole into my back.

“Where’s Max?” I whispered as Craig pressed the cloth to my lip again. The pain lessened this time; the freezing temperature actually felt soothing.

“In the shower,” Craig answered quietly. “Or, he was about ten minutes ago. I think he’s just having a party in there now. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

He flashed me a look of complete knowing. Of course. He knew I loved Max; he had been witness to almost all of the weird, romantic gestures we shared since the first day in Pomona, except the slow dancing at the A Day to Remember set, but so many pictures and videos had been taken by the audience, everyone would know soon enough.

All of the internet would know soon enough, if they already didn’t know!

“Want me to get him?”

“Get who?”

Craig glanced over his shoulder. I craned my neck to peer around him, where Max now stood in the hallway, only wearing a pair of black jeans, his gray underwear peeking over the top. He was glistening from his shower; his hair hung in tendrils down to his shoulders.

His skin was much paler than Craig’s. There was only the beginnings of any sort of abs; the definition was quite easy to see. His upper body wasn’t nearly as wonderful as Craig’s, but I still found myself wanting to jump on him and allow him to do anything to me.

His pants hung dangerously low on his hips. If not for his underwear, my eyes would be having one hell of a feast.

“You,” Craig replied. “Juliet wanted to know where you were.”

Max turned his gaze at me. His face was void of his usual eye makeup and he looked vaguely like Gabrielle. The dark circles beneath his eyes were back, like he, too, hadn’t slept, and he was pale. A lot more so than he had been yesterday.

I tilted my head. I wanted to ask him if anything was wrong, if he was sick too, but I couldn’t form a coherent thought around his naked torso and those damned jeans!

Ugh! What was wrong with me? How the hell did he have such a strong hold over me? First, the incident with Gavin yesterday, when I clearly should have had a huge crush on the poor guy, and yet I felt absolutely nothing during our kiss.

And now this! Standing inches from me was an amazing body belonging to Craig, but I still thought Max looked so much better. To the point where I knew I was gaping like a complete idiot.

“Shit, what happened to your lip?” Max nudged Craig out of the way and bent to get a better look. I watched him in silence. Various emotions fluttered over his face, from confusion to recognition and settling on anger.

I knew what he was thinking. Who did it to me? I took his face between my hands and leaned my forehead against his, his wet hair hitting my face. “Ghost hit me with his head. No one hurt me.”

“I was ready to kick ass,” he whispered.

I smiled, settling backwards against the cushioned booth seat. Max slid into the seat across from me.

“Why are you here so early in the morning?” he asked, flipping his sopping hair out of his eyes.

…Why was I here? I came to ask something, but I had no clue what it was. Uh -- uh… OH! The club, of course! Max and his beautiful torso made my mind lose all train of thought. Or it possibly could have been a mix of Craig’s amazing muscles and Max’s wet body and revealing pants that caused me to have a mental lapse of intelligence.

Either way, I now looked like an utter moron and it was glorious to have all eyes pointed at me when
I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Well, I really need to get out of the RV before I kill some people, and I was wondering if you guys wanted to come to a club downtown with me.” I looked at Gabrielle, then Max. “Unless you don’t--”

“I’m in!” Gabrielle interrupted. She did a little jig beside Craig, holding Leila a little closer. “I haven’t been somewhere fun in so[/I long.”

Yeah, right. Something told me a girl like her was not one to stay away from places like clubs and bars for much longer than a few days at the most. Her idea of “so long” was probably the eight days that passed since the first day of Warped.

I met her gaze, and, again, I could not think a single downbeat notion of her. How sick she looked made me feel sorry for her.

“I’m in,” Max echoed.

Robert, Bryan, and Craig nodded, agreeing with the idea of the outing.

“Awesome! It opens at ten…”

X X X X

As I opened the door to the RV, the sound of something sizzling met my ears and the aroma of garlic swirled around Gabrielle and my heads. Plates and silverware were clinking, and Devin and Stefan spoke in loud, happy voices.

They didn’t heart us come inside, thankfully. I was dreading asking if I could go to the Purgatory, and if they could watch Leila while we were gone. Of course, since both of them only drank on special occasions, they would not be joining us…

Which only made it worse. They would have my ass on a plate after they read me the riot act. Guilt rushed through me. How could I ask them after they put everything on the line for me? I was horrible!

“Well, look who’s back!” Devin called happily from where he stood at the stove. “You were gone for a really long time, Jay. I was starting to get hives.” As if for emphasis, he scratched a spot on the underside of his wrist.

The guilt grew worse. Hives. Great. Whenever Devin became extremely worried or upset, hives developed on his arms and chest. Most of his breakouts had been because of me during my Hell year, especially when I was in rehab and he called my room every few hours to see if everything was going okay.

But why did I feel guilty? It wasn’t like I was hankering for MDMA or any other kind of drugs. I only wanted to go to a club with my friends, to possibly let go for once in eleven months. I wanted to have fun, and Devin had to understand that.

Stefan would, at least. He understood better than Devin and was willing to me more lenient in my constant supervision than his longtime boyfriend. Devin cared too much to be less than overprotective.

“Sorry,” I said, forcing a smile at him. “I… I need to ask you something, Dev, but you have to swear not to freak out.”

The grin on his face faded. He dropped the spatula to the stove and turned to face Gabrielle and me completely, his face etched with concern. “Ask me what?” His voice dripped with apprehension. He didn’t want to know what I was going to ask, and I did not blame him.

“Uh -- we’re going to a club, and --”

“Hold up!”

I stopped. Devin stepped in front of me and laid his hands on my shoulders. His eyes bore into mine like daggers, making me squirm under the intensity.

Stefan coughed from the dinette table. Gabrielle slid away from us, closer to Stefan.

Devin grabbed the front of my shirt and started pulling me toward the back bedroom. He spun around the corner and twisted to stare at me again. His face held sadness, disappointment.

“You’re going to a club?!” he hissed. “Why? Why, why, why, Jay? You know this isn’t good for your recovery. You’ll be throwing away everything you’ve -- we’ve worked for! Why are you doing this?”

…What? A little alcohol would destroy every bit of work I put into making myself a better person? I thought it would help. I mean, I believed my recovery was going very well, thank you. I was staring to get back to normal.

My eating habits were back to how they used to be. I was happier. My anger no longer popped up at eery little thing that happened, and my old flirtatious behavior was returning.

Whether or not the latter was a good thing I had yet to decide on.

“Devin, I did not go to rehab for alcohol,” I reminded him. “I went for Ecstasy. Going to a club is not going to kill all my progress. And I swear I won’t drink that much. Can I please go?”

He raked a hand through his thick, brown hair and bit his lip ring. He stared at the ground in absolute silence.

I shifted from foot to foot. A night out with the boys and Gabrielle wouldn’t end badly. I wouldn’t even drink that much. Just one drink could do me good for the night, but I doubted Devin believed me.

Not that I deserved to be believed, after all the lies and the hell I put him through. I would doubt me as well.

“Juliet, I’m worried,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I… what if… there will be drugs at a packed nightclub. There will be temptation, and you, yourself, said that you almost gave in when Josh offered you some the other day. That could happen again.”

“But it won’t.” And the boys wouldn’t let Josh get within eighteen feet of me. Particularly Max. He was the only one who knew the nitty-gritty details of the passed year, so surely he would not let me do anything stupid.

Devin moved to the bed and placed himself at the end. He dropped his head in his hands, sighing loudly. I sat down beside him and patted his back.

“I know you’re worried about me,” I whispered, laying my head on his shoulder. “But you don’t have to be. You can trust me when I say I will not get that drunk.”

He peeked at me from between his fingers.

“Besides, you know the only reason I’m going is to be with Max.” I grinned goofily. “Who knows what might happen if he gets drunk. I might get lucky for once.”

Devin laughed, dropping his hands to his knees. “That’s why you’re so pissed all the time. You need sex, honey.”

I disregarded the first part of his comment. I was not pissed all the time anymore! That part of me really was getting better. Really. I wasn’t sure how to prove it to him, but I decided it would be best not to get mad about it. That kind of defeated the whole point.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. “You can go and I won’t throw a fit, but you have to promise me that you will spend the entire time flirting with Max.”

Yeah, like I would deny such a request. “Of course!”

“What’s our other rule?”

“No condom, no action,” I answered with a snort.

Devin planted a kiss on my cheek. “Good.” He stood up, taking me with him by the hand. “Now, we have to find sexy clothes for you to wear.”

I groaned. Devin’s idea of sexy was much different, much more promiscuous, than my own. This was not going to be fun in the least.