Page 47 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

“Go to hell,” she shouts at me while she flips me the bird.

“You first,” I tell her before she stomps through the suite. A door elsewhere slams.

I let myself out on the balcony, feeling less wound up than I have in two years. I roll my thumb over the flint of my Zippo and spark a flame. The end of the joint glows red and fades to gray. The sweet smoke fills my lungs and blurs the edges.

Who knew fucking with her would be cathartic?

Not me. I’d figured getting her on her knees and marking her mouth as my property would be enough. Now, I know it’s going to take much more to satiate me.

I want revenge. I want her to hurt as much as I did. Then I’ll be able to close the door on us.

17

Kelsey

Riot struts around the stage while he belts out ‘Chokehold’ and encourages the audience to participate. Every time I hear this song my teeth hurt. He changed it for her. Gave her the song I once considered mine. And then he gave her the man I was in love with too.

Honestly, hearing it makes me want to go a little stabby-stab on him.

And yet, I’m still more relaxed waiting in the wings at tonight’s concert than I was the one in L.A. Carmine and the other execs aren’t here. And I’m almost four hundred miles away from Marco. That doesn’t mean I am safe, but the risk factor drops with every passing mile he doesn’t catch up to me. I can’t help but to appreciate that.

Even if I see poor Heaven and Loverboi in the quiet moments when I’m not preoccupied. And I have to put up with my asshole ex.

He’s not going to give me my shoebox back. Any hope I had that he would do the decent thing was dispelled last night when I did what he wanted, and he made it clear he wanted much more from me. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need his permission to retrieve my personal effects. I only need the chance to look for them. There’s a good chance—since he hasn’t picked through them—that I’ll be able to get it back without him discovering my secrets.

He’s stopped working the crowd to zero in on one specific fan. Crouching at the edge of the stage, he passes the microphone back and forth from his mouth to hers, encouraging her to sing certain parts. She might be in love with him when he stands, stretches his arm down to her, and pulls her onto the stage to finish the last verse.

Because you have me in a chokehold, baby

Addicted to your grip

There’s no going back

I can’t breathe without you

I’m on my knees, darlin’. I’m all yours and now you see

I’m in too deep

To ever wanna be free

The crowd joins in on the chorus. The arena is packed with thousands of voices harmonizing. I used to believe this song was profound. Fans reacted to it because it really meant something to Riot.

What a joke.

The song ends and the girl throws herself into the hug he offers. She practically melts when he kisses her cheek.

He never stops performing. It’s always about his ego and being the biggest rockstar. Even if he hadn’t cheated on me with Sonatina we would never have lasted with him constantly on the road and there being a new girl in every city looking at him with the same intensity as the woman he’s helping off the stage.

“We’re going to play you a new song. It’s a little rough around the edges,” he says.

The crowd doesn’t care. They go wild.

“It still needs some work. It’s called ‘Ruins’.”

I’m not sticking around to listen to another one of his angry rants about me that he’s set to music. The crowd might love the new songs, but I don’t have to.

Jasper falls into step with me. “He ordered you to the green room after the concert.”