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“Yeah, I know, it’s all good.”
“No. It isn’t.” I focus on Ruby’s face, expecting a sour look, but concern frames her features. “I’m worried.”
“I’m a rock star,” I say and hiccup. Ruby’s face expression shifts to dismay and an idea floats across my dulled mind. “I’m not likehim. I’m not taking drugs.”
“Umm. You clearly are.”
“No, like real drugs.” I wave my hand dismissively.
“Fuck, Jax,” she mutters. “Just think about what you’re doing.”
I’m about to make a comment about her fucking her life up getting pregnant and how she has no right to lecture me about my choices, but I swallow down the words. “Yeah. ‘Kay.”
“Sit down and sober up. We have half an hour.”
“Is there anything for us to eat?” I ask and scout the room. “Oh. Nice. Beers.”
“Don't you dare! I don't care what you do later, but I don't want the band playing like shit on live TV!”
Ruby's right. I help myself to the sandwiches on a table nearby, and slump back in my seat. When I'm with Will and Nate, my self-control takes a backseat in the interest of maximum fun. Since Tegan isn't around, and pissed off she isn’t, I launch myself too hard into the evening. Telling myself I'll be fine on TV would've worked if I'd stuck to beer, but we didn't.
Will heads over to Ruby and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “We're good. I could play ‘My Kinda Disaster’ in my sleep; we've performed it that much in the last few months.”
“I bloody hope so!” She shrugs his arm away.
The door opens and Riley walks in, face thunderous.
“Hey, it's Smiley Riley,” I call. “She's come to see her favourite boys!”
“Can I talk to the three of you?” she barks. “Out here.”
Nate drops the hand he has on the blonde chick’s leg and their eyes meet briefly, before Riley glances away.
“Yes, Miss!” Will stands and strides to the door.
We head after Riley and I lean against the wall in the quiet hallway, arms crossed. Riley continues to look as if her dog died. “We had a complaint from the make-up girl. Who groped her ass?”
Will giggles. “Will did.” He points at Nate.
I groan inwardly, here we go.
“I did not!” protests Nate.
Nate's refusal to deny he's Will illustrates the insane direction this evening is heading.
“Somebody did!” says Riley.
I hold my hands up. “Nope. Not me.”
“Wait, what? Groped whose ass?” asks Will.
“The chick with the brushes and the brown crap she put on your face.” Nate rubs his brother's cheeks.
“Oh! Right. My hand slipped,” says Will with a sly smile.
Riley stares at Will, cheeks turning pinker. Does she believe he's Nate? “You can't do that!”
“Why? It was an accident,” replies Will.
