Page 70 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

“Absolute bangers.” Bronx nods. “Channeling all that raw rage into our next album.”

“I love that,” she gushes, stepping in closer to me. “And it’s perfect timing too.”

“I’m going to need another drink,” I tell Bronx.

“Be right back,” he says and leaves us.

“Perfect timing for what?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“We can be a power couple again. Get back to how it was.” She touches my arm, sincerity shining from her.

“How it was when you dumped me for Effect?” I hadn’t cared that she moved on. I’d been grateful. The whole time we were together it was for appearance’s sake. Underneath it all, I’d barely been alive. I’d still been completely hung up on Kelsey.

And as much as I hate to admit it, I still am. I hate that she’s apparently into Kodiak and Bronx. I hate that I listened to her get off with them. Watch her flirt and tease them. Watch them prowl around her like a pack of hungry dogs.

Okay, it’s sexy as fuck and seeing her enjoying herself gets me hard, but I hate that it’s not me.

I hate that she holds hands with Golden. Flirts with him and rests her head on his chest when she was supposed to be doing all those things with me.

I hate that I’m writing again. I hate how much I want to ditch this fucking party, go back to the hotel. Get under her skin. Inside her panties. Inside her fucking soul the way she’s inside mine.

“I had a moment of weakness.” Her eyes brighten with crocodile tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.” She certainly didn’t cheat on me. It was a business arrangement where I had my own moment of weakness and took her to bed one night. Once. And I didn’t even fucking come. Couldn’t. Couldn’t stay hard enough to stick it in. Blamed it on the alcohol, but it wasn’t. “Don’t you ever want to actually be happy? Maybe fall in love for real?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She turns up her nose. “I’m going to be the biggest star in the world. I thought we were at least on the same page with that.”

“We are.” Fuck love and the pain it causes. Fuck being walked out on. Fuck not being able to sleep or eat or even breathe without missing someone who doesn’t miss you at all. Who only comes back to you because they’ve screwed someone else over. Who possibly has a kid out there somewhere that she’s walked out on too.

“I should join you on the tour,” she says. “Not straight away. We need to plant the seed that we’re getting back together. But it’ll be good publicity for both of us if I travel with you toward the end.”

“We’re not going to do that.”

Rolling her eyes, her features sharpen. “Do you want daddy to order you to do it? Because he will. He can also find someone else to fill your shoes. Someone more amenable. L.A. Riot can go on without you. Or it can languish into obscurity.”

“You don’t have the balls,” I snarl.

“Try me.” She laughs like I’ve said something funny. “Oh look, a photographer. Time to kiss and make up unless you want to be a nobody.”

“Fuck you, Sonatina.” I catch her when she jumps into my arms. The tips of her pointed heels dig into the back of my thigh. Her breasts and those pearls rub against my shirt. She winds her arms around my head and seals her lips to mine, digging her tongue between them when I refuse to make the move.

Bronx is heading our way with two glasses of champagne when she breaks it off. His timing is on point.

I drop her to her feet and stride toward him. Snatching one glass, I drain it. Then I steal his too. “I need something stronger.”

25

Kelsey

It’s quiet in the suite without the guys. At first, it was a little weird. I’ve barely had a moment alone since the tour started; thanks to Riot not trusting me and the constant presence of security. But then I realize that without anyone here, I can essentially do whatever I want.

And what I want is to have a bath with bubbles and pretty scents while I do some online shopping with the card Bronx gave me for incidentals on the road. I’m at least going to need hair dye if I’m going to change my look.

The water is hot and smells like flowers. It’s not a scent I would normally wear, but I can’t really complain. It’s been a long while since I’ve been able to afford even the smallest luxuries.

I gather my hair up into a bun on the top of my head and slide beneath the bubbles. What color should I choose? Pink like Riot’s sister-in-law? Blue? Green? Hmmm. I search the internet for options, but nothing feels right. Because I like my natural color. I always have.

That’s not the point though. I’m dying my hair, so I look like someone other than myself. What’s the furthest thing from me that I can do? A smile curves my lips. I fill my cart and put the order in.