Page 85 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

Kodiak frowns at me.

I don’t care what his problem is right now. If he says one damn word to her about the deal I had to make with Sonatina... I send a warning glare his way. No, I’ll be the one to tell Kelsey. I owe her that.

He gets the message. Keeps his mouth shut.

She grimaces. “Okay, bring in a stylist. But only because I would rather be bald than resemble that bitch in any way.”

“Trust me, she won’t ever compare.” It’s what I should have said from the start. What I should have proved to her back then. I can’t change what happened. I can only start trying to find a way forward with her now.

She wrinkles her nose and turns to the window.

It’s probably hard for her to trust anything that comes out of my mouth. I’ve been lying to us both for years now.

I sit back. Clasping my hands together, I roll one thumb around the other and then reverse direction. What happened between me and Sonatina... it sits like rotten, curdled milk in my gut.

I remember details... tiny flashes... her straddling me... being inside her... only now it’s real... Why can’t I recall how we ended up on that couch together in the first place?

Why was it so easy for me to push those memories into the dark?

31

Kelsey

Sitting on the stage, legs dangling over the edge, I savor the emptiness of the huge arena. The guys and Coffey are doing one last inspection of the stage set up. Occasionally their voices and laughter interrupt the quiet and bounce off the thousands of empty seats.

Sound check will start soon. They’ll sing a song that is for them alone. It could be one of theirs, or one they love, or some silly ditty Riot comes up with on the spot.

A few hours from now the place will start to fill. There are already people lined up outside. They’ll cram into the space in front of the stage first, the nosebleeds will fill later.

The noise level will rise, but it will also soften into a comfortable buzz. All those bodies absorbing the sound. And then Riot will approach the microphone, and the anticipation of the fans will turn silence into a living, breathing energy.

But this is the moment, when it’s just us, the guys, security, roadies, and me... that I always appreciated the most. The excitement of my guys over what they were creating. The intimacy of it.

Riot takes a seat next to me on the stage. He shoves up the sleeves on his bomber jacket and does something on his phone without saying a word.

I inch over enough to keep a gap between us. Despite what happened between us early this morning, or maybe because of it, we will never be friends again. And the softness he is exhibiting toward me—the guilt—isn’t going to change that. There is nothing he could say or do to change that at this point.

It hurts my heart to be so certain. Hating him and having him hate me back is easier than whatever this is.

“Neil should have been here for this,” he says. “He was supposed to be here.”

Loss is a never-ending ebb and flow. Missing Neil breaks open the carefully constructed damn inside me. Wetness pricks my eyes and makes me need to swallow. If I hadn’t left, would I have been able to protect him? Would things have been different? “Things didn’t work out the way we thought they would.”

“Nothing turned out how it was meant to. Not with Neil. And not with us.”

We fall into silence. It’s easier than talking when all we do is fight.

Riot exhales and his shoulders roll forward. “Is Marco... did he—”

Rook and Jasper escort a gorgeous black man toward us. Behind him is a whole entourage of beautiful people carrying make up cases and hair products. At the back two women roll a rack full of clothes between them.

“Kelsey Peterson?” The stylist looks up at me.

“That’s me.” I wave at him before turning to Riot. “You said hair.”

He shrugs. “I’ve been an asshole to you. The least I can do is this.”

“It doesn’t change anything.” He must realize that.