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And who can blame her?

 

I haven’t exactly given Cataclysm’s new assistant any reason to like me.  

 

Our first meeting is a disaster—I thought she was a groupie. She didn’t appreciate the compliment. And it all goes downhill from there.

 

I make it my job to be an asshole, to make life on the road for her more difficult, all in an effort to get some kind of reaction out of her other than the polite, cool mask she gives only me. To make matters worse, the band has deemed my partying to be “out of control,” and they make her my babysitter too.

 

But partying gets old and doesn’t fill the hole I need to heal. And needling Viola stops bringing me any pleasure, especially when I see the real effects of my behavior.

 

When she finally lets her guard down, our chemistry is electric.  All I have to do is convince her there’s more to me than the playboy rockstar she first met.

 

But they say first impressions last forever. And maybe I really am just the asshole she thinks …