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Edge took his arm from around me. “Sawyer, you’re sucking all the air from the funhouse. We just put on a fanfuckingtastic concert. The vibes were great. Then, pop.”
With my finger in
the air, I pretended to pop bubbles. “And two, you have to defend George any time anyone else tries to call him that.”
A look of horror crossed his face. “Are you crazy? You’re going to make me a pansy.”
I leaned in as if conspiring with him. “How bad do you want the suspenders, Edge? The power to have them is within your grasp if you just say yes.”
The other members chuckled as they watched in amusement. Kurt had relaxed and grinned at me. Finally, Edge muttered, “Fine. You have a deal.”
I patted his shoulder. “You’ve made a good choice. Just ask Kurt what happens to his wardrobe when I get pissed off.”
The band chuckled as Edge’s eyes widened.
Chapter Fourteen
Sawyer
The club was off the hook. The floors and bars had fog from dry ice covering them. It gave a wanton feeling with lights flashing throughout the dark, hazy club. I loved it. All the furniture looked like ice. Even the temperature was set a little cooler than most places. The pulse of the music coursed through me as we were escorted across the dance floor to a VIP section, and I let my hips sway to the beat. Of course, women clambered to get close to the band. None were granted access yet. It was chaos.
Kurt kept me close and paid no attention to any of the other women. I had no official claim on him, but it would slay me to see him with someone else. I hoped we would have things worked out before this tour ended. We were halfway to the VIP stairs when Kurt’s nemesis, Cole Davis, approached us. Kurt’s hand tightened on my waist.
Cole was drunk, slurring as he spoke. “This one charge by the hour?”
“Shut the fuck up, Cole. Say something else, and I’ll have you thrown out.”
Wobbling a bit, Cole lifted his glass in my direction. “Cheers.”
“Asshole.”
Laughing, he staggered away.
I scoffed. “When we get home, I’m cutting up that shirt I had made.” To get back at Kurt, I’d had a shirt made that said cole davis is a sex god. Gross.
“Wonderful. Let’s go upstairs.”
The area upstairs was roped off. Sykes greeted us with shots. “Drink! There’s more coming.”
Edge joined us, his drink raised. “To suspenders.”
I threw back the shot and grimaced at the burn. Harlem handed us seconds. I jumped in and said, “To no bad influences on George.”
The second burned as well. From this point forward, I would need to pace myself. It had been a while since I drank. We made our way to the couch, where Kurt sat next to me, and the music kept thrumming through me, working me up sexually. The vibrator was seriously not cutting it any more.
Kurt leaned in, the smell of alcohol on his breath. “Seriously, Louis is on my shit list.”
Beaming inside, I leaned toward him. “Why? This dress is amazing. There is a downside, though.”
“That it’s too fucking short.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the small bit of alcohol coursing through my body or the fact that I was sexually in need, but I fanned the flames. “No, it causes a panty line. So I had to go without.”
The fire burned in Kurt’s eyes. “I’m cutting that dress up.”
“Oh yeah, and I can’t wear a bra because of the back. It’s cold in here.”
Kurt worked his throat. What’s come over me? I had blazed past the gray lines we’d created over the past two weeks.
