Jordan wasn't kidding when he said these parties were nuts. As I approached the house, I saw a woman who had to be in her thirties, leaning over the railing, puking her guts out. The vomit splashed on the ground below and I had to scramble passed before it sprayed me. Gross.

The front door was wide open and I went inside. Looking around, this was clearly not my scene. This was a much rougher crowd than I was used to. I noticed some people I recognized from Rinard, but the rest were strangers. Some looked almost my parents' age. Others could still be in high school. And every single one of them seemed to be wasted off their asses.

I realized I probably stuck out like a sore thumb with my dark skinny jeans, off the shoulder midnight blue top, and knee high black leather boots with a three inch stelleto heel. Especially when the dress code seemed to include clothing that would have been cool a couple of decades ago. I had felt really good when I had gotten dressed for my evening but now I wished I had gone for something a bit more low key.

I didn't see Jordan anywhere. In fact I didn't see any of the guys from the band. Though to be fair it was hard to see anything in this crowd. I was standing there like an idiot when a huge guy lumbered toward me. When I say huge, I mean huge. He was easily over 6 foot tall and he had the shoulders of a linebacker. His dirty blond hair came down the back of his head in a greasy mullet and his face was obscured by a Grizzly Adam's beard. He was f**king scary!

And he was bearing down on me. Shit! Do I run? And then he stopped in front of me, grinned and shoved a red Solo cup in my hand. “Here, sweetheart. You looked like you needed a drink.” I blinked, having been rendered mute by this odd exchange.

“Uh. Thanks,” I mumbled, holding the drink in my hand. I wasn't going to drink it. I had seen all the roofie videos in health class. I'm no dummy. But I didn't want to seem rude, so put the cup to my lips and pretended to take a sip.

The guy just stood there, smiling at me like I was something peculiar. I cleared my throat. “Uh, have you seen the band around?” I asked, feeling really dumb. I wished I had made Riley or Gracie come with me. Or maybe Vivian, she would have loved this.

Grizzly nodded and jerked his thumb behind him but didn't say anything. Okay. I guess that meant they were in the room down the hall. I tilted the cup in his direction in acknowledgment and followed his less than specific directions.

I came into a large rec room, complete with a pool table and Foosball. There was a bar to the right that had been built out of the wall. The room was packed. Scoping the place out, I finally saw Cole and Mitch. Cole was manning the bar and was slinging drinks to a large crowd.

Mitch was playing pool with two girls hanging off of his arm. Not wanting to interrupt that, I opted to approach Cole to find out where Jordan was. I had to push my way through the group circling the bar to reach one of the stools. Hopping up, I tucked my feet under the chair.

Cole was talking to a guy with dreads who had a joint tucked behind his ear. I waited for a lull in their conversation before I jumped in. “Excuse me,” I called out.

Cole looked down at me and his mouth spread into a grin. “Hey there, pretty lady. What can I do for you?” He leaned over the bar, his dark hair flopping in his eyes. His smile was flirty as he took me in.

I gave him a sassy smile back. “Well, you can tell me where Jordan is?” I asked. Recognition dawned on his face and Cole leaned back from the bar.

“Ahh. You must be the famous Maysie Ardin,” he said, his grin getting wider. I laughed.

“Famous, huh?” I asked, wondering what exactly he had heard about me. It was sad to think that it could be any number of things. Not just the fact that I was his band mate's girlfriend.

Cole reached under the bar and grabbed himself a beer, he inclined his head my way in a question and I nodded. He popped the top off of second beer and slid it toward me. “Oh, luv, we've heard nothing but Maysie, Maysie, Maysie since this summer. Whatever you've done to our boy Piper, you've done it good.” He chuckled, taking a swig of his beverage.

I swallowed a mouth full of my own drink. “Piper?” I asked, wondering where the hell that particular nickname came from. I had heard Cole use it during their performances but had never gotten around to asking Jordan about it. Cole laughed and the dreaded guy beside me guffawed. Clearly this was a private joke.

I arched my eyebrow. Cole shook his head. “Nathan, why don't you share that little golden nugget of info. That way when Piper gets pissed, he'll bash your face in and not mine. I'm a hell of a lot prettier than you,” Cole said, rubbing his hand on his own cheek.

The guy with the dreadlocks, Nathan, shrugged. “Whatever, it wouldn't be the first time he broke my nose,” he said lightly and my eyes widened. What? Cole saw my face and patted my hand.

“Babe, don't worry, Nathan deserved what Jordan gave him.” Both Cole and Nathan laughed as though the fact that the dude had his nose broken by my boyfriend was a huge freaking joke. These guys were mental.

Nathan pulled the joint out from behind his ear and lit it up. He passed it to Cole who took a drag. Cole then handed it in my direction but I waved my hand, refusing it. Drugs weren't my thing. Alcohol, yes. Other stuff, not so much. “Okay, so spill about the nickname. You've piqued my interest,” I queried, drinking more of my beer.

Nathan toked on the joint a few more times before he responded. “Well, you know the story about the Pied Piper of Hamlin right? I mean, you're a college chick, you know all that history stuff,” Nathan commented, his voice tight from holding in the smoke.