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“How fuckingoldis she?”
Kurt’s brow furrows as he glances around the room.
“What is this, Sunday confessional? Cause you lot are the oddest bunch of nuns I’ve ever fucking seen.”
“Answer the question,” Will mutters. “How old was that—”
“Old enough to come to a fucking rock show!” Kurt spits. “Old enough to slink her way backstage and invite herself up to the afterparty. And old enough to take my cock in every fuckin’ hole!That’show old she is!”
My jaw clenches as I move towards him, my hand curling into a fist.
“Your place on this tour isn’t carved in stone, motherfucker,” I snap coldly. “And I swear to God, if you jeopardize any of—”
Kurt barks a cold laugh, cutting me off.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be me fucking pretty girls that throws off the tour,” he spits before whirling to jab a thumb at Iggy.
“Not this junkie with his fuckin’ gear.”
I tense, turning to stab my gaze into my friend. Iggy’s eyes dart side to side, his jaw tightening.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, if the rest of you are fuckin’ blind…”
Kurt storms over to a table across the main suite, with Iggy’s drumstick bag lying on it.
“Oi! Don’t fucking touch—”
But Kurt ignores my friend as he dumps the bag out across the table, scattering drumsticks, a snare tuner, a pack of cigarettes…
And a bag of yellowish grey powder.
And a grimy spoon and a lighter.
And a syringe.
Kurt turns, spreading his arms as he glares at Iggy.
“Keep your fuckin’ nose out of my bedroom and back up in your glass tower, you fuckin’ junkie.”
He eyes us all before he storms back to the bedroom. He comes back a minute later, dressed, giving us all one more glare before he storms out the door.
Slowly, in the ensuing silence, I turn back to Iggy.
“Jack—”
He jolts when I surge into him, grabbing him by the arm and mostly shoving him out of sight of the other guys and the groupies, into the hotel suite kitchen.
“What thefuck, man!?” I snap as I slam him into the fridge. “We talked about this!”
Iggy’s jaw clenches, but he shakes his head.
“C’mon, Jack, it’s fine.”
“The fuck it is.”
“Mate, it’s just a pinch,” he holds up a thumb and forefinger. “Just now and then.” His face falls. “C’mon, Jackson. You don’t know how it is when Alice can’t come on the tour.”
“So, you fuckingcall her,” I hiss. “You’ve got more money than God, Iggs. You get on a plane, and you go visit her. You don’t dothatshit!”
