Page 34 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

Looks like fate did me a favor and gave her exactly what she deserved. And now it’s put her back in my orbit so that I can get some karma of my own. But still, this is... it’s too much. Between this and the way she looks... it’s like she’s been barely surviving.

That’s not my problem though, is it? She’s nothing to me. Except for the means to our next album.

I feel Bronx watching me.

“What?” I know him well enough to assume he brought me here to soften me toward her. But that’s not going to happen. “Get what you came for and let’s get out of here. We have a concert to prepare for.”

It takes about ten minutes to pack up her shit. Her wardrobe is pitiful. What happened to all her clothes? We toss what’s left of her wardrobe and the remains of her shoe collection onto the bed. I find her panties and rifle through them like they’re old familiar trinkets.

Slim pickings these days.

On instinct I tuck a black, ruffled pair into my pocket before tossing the rest on the pile on the sheet. Her vibrator is stashed at the back. There’s no way she’s getting that back. No way I’m tossing it on the pile in front of Kodiak and Bronx. It might give them ideas.

Bronx adds her makeup, hair products and jewelery to the pile.

Kodiak pulls the corners of the sheet up and ties them together before putting it over his shoulder. Bronx scoops up a stack of books and a couple of other trinkets.

“Grab the shoebox in the cupboard?” Bronx orders as he follows Kodiak out.

I pull the heavy shoe box down from the shelf.

Her memento box. It used to be full of letters and photos of us. Bits and pieces of our friendship.

My jaw clicks as I stare at the lid. Curiosity burns me from the inside out. I remove the lid and peek at the contents on top. Dozens of pieces of lined note paper covered in my handwriting, folded painstakingly into origami stars. Some of them are the lyrics to my early songs. Some of them were letters I wrote to her.

Why would she keep them? Did she think they would be worth selling at some point? She clearly needs money.

I’ll be keeping these. And whatever else is in the box might come in handy as ammunition. I toss in her vibrator and close the lid.

13

Kelsey

L.A. Riot sounds as good as ever.

Even if their songs do leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I stick to the shadows in my hiding spot off stage. On the other side is where all the professionals and label execs are. Carmine will be somewhere nearby.

He’s the last person I want to run into here. Second to last person if I count Marco. Third to last really, because I’m still pissed at Riot for pouring beer all over me last night. And threatening me.

But the boys were adamant that I couldn’t stay alone in the suite. Especially since we’re leaving from the venue. They had their road crew manager, Coffey, find me a low traffic spot to watch from. Where he could keep an eye on me. And I would be unlikely to run into anyone outside those who know I’m here.

Definitely no one who would go running to the head of the label.

All our things have been packed onto the bus. They’d gone to my apartment and picked up my things. But I haven’t had a chance to go through them and make sure everything is there.

Whatever isn’t there is gone forever I suppose.

I can’t get caught up in my losses right now. I have to choose to live for the future. One where hopefully I don’t have to worry about Marco finding me.

Or deal with Riot ever again. Which means my only concern is surviving the tour. The forced proximity of being stuck on tour buses or hotel suites with him. His cruelty toward me.

From my vantage point, I can see both the band and the crowd. The venue is at capacity and absolutely crowded. The people in front of the stage dance and wave signs in the air, their voices joining Riot’s when he encourages everyone to sing along. The volume increases as more and more people join in.

On the stage, Bronx is a sexy, shirtless beast on the drums. His hair drips with sweat and he has this boyish grin of absolute joy on his face.

Kodiak concentrates on his playing. His bass looks small in his huge hands.

Golden nods to the beat as his fingers work the fretboard of his rhythm guitar.