The Rock Star Trilogy 01 - Jaded

smiles. “This is where we practice.”

    8:44 pm
    Where the hell is Paul Walker?

    As we get out of the car, I'm pretty much wondering what he means by they just practice here. It's actually a pretty nice track. And does he race? Or does he just like watching? I'm also wondering if I can get in on the action.
    We walk up to a set of bleachers, a few people are sitting there already.
    “ Stephan!” I hear the group yell.
    He grabs my hand, and pulls me behind him. “Hey guys!” He knuckle bumps a few of the guys.
    “ What happened to your eye?” One of them asks as we get closer.
    I step out from behind him. “That was me, actually.”
    I wait for them to recognize me, and for them to freak out. I am expecting them to ask for my autograph. But something amazing happens: they don't know me .
    “ Who is this hottie, and where have you been hiding her?” One of the guys ask, looking me up and down. I'm suddenly wishing I would have wore more clothing.
    “ This is Scarlett,” he says. “And she's mine, so stay away.”
    His words should scare me. I really don't like possessive guys, because I am a girl who can take care of myself. But with Stephan, it's kind of hot that he's telling his friends to stay away from me.
    “ Anybody who can stand up to Stephan is cool in my book,” a girl holds her hand out to me, and I accept her handshake. “I'm Britney, but my friends call me Brit.”
    Britney is about two inches taller than me, even with my four inch heels on. She has chocolate brown eyes, blonde hair, and curves in all the right places.
    “ Nice to meet you, Brit. You can call me Scar,” it's what my friends in grade school used to call me, and I really don't want these people to recognize me.
    “ You look so familiar,” another girl says. “Have you ever gone to west side?”
    “ No,” I shake my head. “I'm from... not around here.”
    “ Hmm... I'm sure I'll figure it out,” she smiled. “I'm Ginny.”
    Ginny's hair is red, but you can tell it's not natural. It almost looks orange. But bad hair color aside, she's just as beautiful as Britney.
    Stephan puts his arm around me. “Hey, will you be ok up here by yourself for a few?”
    I nod. “Yeah. I think I will.”
    Him and a few of the guys walk down the bleachers. I wonder if I'm going to get to see Stephan race, and if I'm going to get a chance.
    “ So, are you Stephan's girlfriend?” Britney asks me.
    I shake my head. “No way. Are you forgetting that I gave him a black eye?”
    Britney and Ginny both laugh. “Please, with Stephan, it probably made him want you more. He's kinky like that.”
    “ So, do you race?” I ask them, changing the subject off me and Stephan.
    “ No!” they say in unison.
    “ It's the guys thing. We just come to support them, and get drunk,” Ginny clarifies. “But mostly to get drunk.”
    Music starts blaring out of the speakers lined around the track. It's my song. I look at a big booth by the track, and see Stephan sitting inside. He leans close to the microphone, and is looking at me. “Scarlett for my Scarlett!”
    I give him a look that says I'm going to kill you , and he winks.
    “ Oh my gosh! I love this song!” Ginny says, and then she starts singing along ( very badly , I might add. Seriously, I think my ears are bleeding ).
    Britney rolls her eyes. “It's overplayed. It kills me. Listen to her, she probably can't even sing in real life. She probably slept her way to the top.”
    Now I'm pissed. I'm about to smart off, and blow my cover when I hear Stephan's voice. “She's actually really talented ,” I hear him say. “Scar, I'm about to race.”
    “ Can I drive?” I ask.
    “ You should have brought your car.”
    I laugh. “Maybe when I get my Boss. I'm not driving my Lam...” I cough, remembering Ginny and Brit behind me. “Um, never mind. Stephan, you know why I can't bring my car.”
    “ Well, you aren't driving my car.”
    “ Can I at least ride with you?” I ask, fluttering my eyelashes at him.
    He nods, and I follow him back to his car. Once we're in, I watch him as he pulls his car onto the track. I love his facial expressions, and how they suddenly got very serious the second we pull out onto the track.
    “ Just so you know,” he says, turning to me, “you can only ride during practice. The actual race is too dangerous.”
    This kind of makes me mad. I am stubborn, and hate being told what I can and can't do. “I'm pretty sure I'd be ok. Besides, I'm going to get