He shrugged. “I don’t know and don’t want to know. As long as no one gets crabs, then I don’t give a shit. They likely will find some groupie to blow them all.”
“Don’t you want to?”
He scoffed. “No. I don’t give blow jobs.”
I rolled my eyes at that. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, don’t you want to go with a groupie or whatever too.”
“Oh. No,” he grumbled. “I don’t want the chance to get crabs.”
I snickered at him. “Well, do you want some cookies? They left some in my room.”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
Hex was always so even. It was the only way to describe him. He rarely smiled and always seems annoyed by everything.
I believed deep down he didn’t really hate everything. He seemed passionate and misunderstood, and I liked his quiet side. He was comfortable hanging out with me because I didn’t feel like I needed to make small talk. He was fine to just be silent.
We went to my dressing room, and I saw a basket on the table labeled with my name.
I went to it and stared at the perfect wrapping paper.
“Weird,” I murmured.
“Who’s it from?” Hex asked, stepping up beside me.
“Says the venue.” I set the thank you card aside and tore into it.
And screamed, stumbling back. Hex caught me, but we both landed on the floor in a painful heap.
“Is-Is that a fucking head?” Hex choked out, clinging to me.
I buried my face in his neck as he held me against his body. I didn’t realize I was still screaming until Anson rushed in.
“What the fuck happened?” he shouted, going to his knees next to us.
“H-Head. There’s a fucking head,” Hex managed to say, pointing where the head sat in the basket.
“What the fuck….” He pulled me away from Hex and buried my face in his chest. “LeeLee. Hey. Hey. Look at me.”
He forced me to stare into his eyes. “Hey. Focus. Your voice. Please. Please. Are you OK?”
“Ani… Ani…”
He tugged me back against him as more people poured into the room. I heard gagging. Shouts.
Anson lifted me into his arms, Hex coming with us, as Anson carried me from the room.
“Ryder, we need the police. Get people out of there. Don’t let anyone touch anything,” Anson said.
“What’s going on?” Ryder asked.
“There’s a severed head in the room.”
“What? A head? Whose head?” Trent asked.
“Just get the cops. I’m taking Rosalie out of here.”
We were moving again, and I could hear people shrieking in the distance.
