Page 22 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

Bronx is pissing me off.

There are several dozen gorgeous female fans crowded into the suite for this party. Scantily dressed, they dance to the rock music blaring from the sound system set up in the communal area. A sea of leather, lace, animal prints, and lingerie. Some of them have forgone all clothes but panties. Tits out, they spill champagne on each other and put on an inviting show for Kodiak, licking and sucking and kissing on each other.

A baddie clad in a gold bikini is doing body shots on the baby grand. She has a lineup of willing participants who want to take a sip from the hollows of her body.

There are women in the powder room tapping out powder into lines. Or swallowing pills.

Security stands around the edges of the party, watching in their invisible way as more gorgeous women are escorted into the suite by security.

This bash is for Bronx. Dozens of women at his fingertips all ready to get on their knees and blow him or fall into bed with him. Any one of these groupies could ride his cock from L.A. to Europe to Australia and back again.

Any one of these girls I’d be fine with. But he picks her. My ex. The bitch who took the band and the label for everything she could steal.

Bronx is ignoring them all. Except for her. He’s sitting on the couch with his arm wrapped around Kelsey’s shoulders. She’s wearing a pair of his sweats, scrunched up to mid shin on one leg and knee on the other. Along with one of his T-shirts, which swims on her in a way that makes her appear small and vulnerable.

Appearances can be deceiving.

Sam doctors her ankle. The tour doc came straight away when Bronx told him Kelsey was injured. He’s all concern, soft affection, and flirty banter, while he examines her range of movement, and the swelling she’s apparently too stubborn not to walk on all day.

Why Bronx thought I would care when he told me that escapes me.

I still don’t want her ensconced in my fucking suite.

Someone passes me a shot of Jack. I toss it back. Grimace because my lips hurt where she clocked me. Chase it with beer and a bump.

Doc leaves.

I lick a shot of Jaeger from the belly button of the woman on the piano.

Bronx says something indulgent and playful that makes Kelsey laugh. She seems more than happy to sit still and have my bandmate, and the tour doctor, pamper her.

Kodiak joins them on the couch. Sitting with his knees spread and his hands clasped behind his head. Staring at Kelsey from under half-closed lids like she’s a new infomercial for something he’s never seen before. I can understand his curiosity. He doesn’t have history with her like the rest of us.

She didn’t almost cost him his dream like she did me, Bronx, and Golden. He wasn’t here when we needed her to help keep Neil on the path he’d started in rehab.

Another beer is thrust into my hand. The woman who brought it starts talking to me.

Bronx is acting like he’s really into Kelsey. He hasn’t even glanced at any of the other women in the room. He keeps touching her shoulder. Keeps bending his head to hers to say things that make her smile.

What the fuck is he thinking? He gets a taste of her, and he forgets all the fucking rules.

She was forbidden because she’s dangerous to us as a band. That didn’t fucking change because she left. She’s what Yoko was to the Beatles. Courtney was to Nirvana. Stevie Nicks was to Fleetwood Mac.

I fight the urge to throw the almost empty beer bottle at Bronx’s head.

I thought I was the exception. But I was fucking wrong. Kelsey Peterson will only cause us all grief.

There has to be a better way to handle this situation. Get her out of our lives once and for all.

The woman talking to me blocks my view of the couch. “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?” I try to focus on the raven-haired woman in her teensy leopard print and black lace dress.

“I asked if you’d like to fuck me. And my friend.” She wiggles her fingers at a brunette in a leather minidress who returns the acknowledgement with a bounce that makes her tits almost jiggle out of their confines.

“Maybe later.” I shrug, searching the throng for Golden.

Golden is surrounded by a gaggle of women who appear to be enthralled by him. He’s holding up his room key. Probably suggesting a game where they have to pass the card with their mouths and whoever wins gets welcomed to ride his dick like it’s a theme park amusement.