Riot
Bronx is pissing me off.
There are several dozen gorgeous female fans crowded into the suite for this party.
Scantily dressed, they dance to the rock music blaring from the sound system set up in the communal area.
A sea of leather, lace, animal prints, and lingerie.
Some of them have forgone all clothes but panties.
Tits out, they spill champagne on each other and put on an inviting show for Kodiak, licking and sucking and kissing on each other.
A baddie clad in a gold bikini is doing body shots on the baby grand. She has a lineup of willing participants who want to take a sip from the hollows of her body.
There are women in the powder room tapping out powder into lines. Or swallowing pills.
Security stands around the edges of the party, watching in their invisible way as more gorgeous women are escorted into the suite by security.
This bash is for Bronx. Dozens of women at his fingertips all ready to get on their knees and blow him or fall into bed with him. Any one of these groupies could ride his cock from L.A. to Europe to Australia and back again.
Any one of these girls I’d be fine with. But he picks her. My ex. The bitch who took the band and the label for everything she could steal.
Bronx is ignoring them all. Except for her.
He’s sitting on the couch with his arm wrapped around Kelsey’s shoulders.
She’s wearing a pair of his sweats, scrunched up to mid shin on one leg and knee on the other.
Along with one of his T-shirts, which swims on her in a way that makes her appear small and vulnerable.
Appearances can be deceiving.
Sam doctors her ankle. The tour doc came straight away when Bronx told him Kelsey was injured. He’s all concern, soft affection, and flirty banter, while he examines her range of movement, and the swelling she’s apparently too stubborn not to walk on all day.
Why Bronx thought I would care when he told me that escapes me.
I still don’t want her ensconced in my fucking suite.
Someone passes me a shot of Jack. I toss it back. Grimace because my lips hurt where she clocked me. Chase it with beer and a bump.
Doc leaves.
I lick a shot of Jaeger from the belly button of the woman on the piano.
Bronx says something indulgent and playful that makes Kelsey laugh. She seems more than happy to sit still and have my bandmate, and the tour doctor, pamper her.
Kodiak joins them on the couch. Sitting with his knees spread and his hands clasped behind his head. Staring at Kelsey from under half-closed lids like she’s a new infomercial for something he’s never seen before. I can understand his curiosity. He doesn’t have history with her like the rest of us.
She didn’t almost cost him his dream like she did me, Bronx, and Golden. He wasn’t here when we needed her to help keep Neil on the path he’d started in rehab.
Another beer is thrust into my hand. The woman who brought it starts talking to me.
Bronx is acting like he’s really into Kelsey. He hasn’t even glanced at any of the other women in the room. He keeps touching her shoulder. Keeps bending his head to hers to say things that make her smile.
What the fuck is he thinking? He gets a taste of her, and he forgets all the fucking rules.
She was forbidden because she’s dangerous to us as a band. That didn’t fucking change because she left. She’s what Yoko was to the Beatles. Courtney was to Nirvana. Stevie Nicks was to Fleetwood Mac.
I fight the urge to throw the almost empty beer bottle at Bronx’s head.
I thought I was the exception. But I was fucking wrong. Kelsey Peterson will only cause us all grief.
There has to be a better way to handle this situation. Get her out of our lives once and for all.
The woman talking to me blocks my view of the couch. “Did you hear me?”
“Huh?” I try to focus on the raven-haired woman in her teensy leopard print and black lace dress.
“I asked if you’d like to fuck me. And my friend.” She wiggles her fingers at a brunette in a leather minidress who returns the acknowledgement with a bounce that makes her tits almost jiggle out of their confines.
“Maybe later.” I shrug, searching the throng for Golden.
Golden is surrounded by a gaggle of women who appear to be enthralled by him. He’s holding up his room key. Probably suggesting a game where they have to pass the card with their mouths and whoever wins gets welcomed to ride his dick like it’s a theme park amusement.
When I catch his attention, I curl a finger to beckon him over. He makes his apologies with a great deal of flirtatious charm before grabbing a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of Patron.
Coming to stand beside me, he hands me both glasses and tells the girl, “Shoo.”
She gives him a pointedly irritated look before she leaves to join her friend. Golden pours the Patron, splashing it on my hand and pants in the process. When I glare at him, it becomes obvious he isn’t focused on what he’s doing but on Bronx and Kelsey.
He’d happily greeted her like a traitor when Bronx showed up with her last night, but tonight he’s stand-offish. He’s watching her almost as warily as I am. “I can’t believe he’s bringing her on the tour.”
That’s what Bronx had told us earlier. He wants her on the tour, and the rest of us can deal with it. I... I can deal with it. Well, fuck that.
“It’s bullshit that he would want you to be okay with this.
” He flips his favorite pick between his pinkie and ring finger to the space between his ring and middle.
Between his middle and pointer and all the way back again.
His usual easy-going smile is flattened.
“He’s jeopardizing band dynamics to get his dick wet. ”
Finally, someone who sees it my way.
I knock the shot back. Set the glass aside. Snatch the bottle and take another. It tastes like ass—grungy chemical ass—and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Not as bitter as I am about her being here. “She’s not going to get on the bus.”
“No?” Golden looks at me. Waits.
“I’m going to need your help.” I swig from the bottle again before I hand it back. Reaching into my pocket, I use two fingers to draw out the plastic bag which is no bigger than a credit card. The logo on the front is a jester.
“If you’re considering drugging her, I’m not down.” He folds his arms across his chest, concern turning the corners of his mouth down when he sees the pills inside. “There’s a line.”
“These are for me.” I roll my eyes and take one. “Getting rid of her isn’t going to be hard. I just need to get her alone. Without Bronx hovering over her like a mother hen. That’s where you’re going to help.”
“You want me to distract him?” He dispenses with formality and takes a drink from the bottle before handing it over again. “Because that I can do.”
Swaggering across the crowded room, ignoring the women being pulled into his orbit, he walks over to them. He grips the back of the couch and leans over to speak to our wayward brother.
Bronx tenses. His arm around Kelsey tightens as he locks gazes with me.
I raise the bottle in my fist. Take a swig and wrap my arm around the blonde walking past me.
Damn it. Why are they always fucking blonde?
Not that it fucking matters. “Hey, sweets. Wanna make this a private party? Come to my room with me.”
“Yes,” she says.
Bronx isn’t the only one watching me as I take the blonde’s hand and lead her toward the bedroom. Her posture tight, she locks cold, hard stares with me. Then Bronx says something to distract her, and she turns her attention to him. A forced smile becomes genuine.
Let’s see if she’s still smiling by the time I’m done with her.
The blonde enters my room ahead of me. She turns around ready to do whatever I want her to. “Take a seat.”
“W-what?”
“On the bed. Take a seat.”
“Oh.” She moves to the bed and sits on the edge. Crossing her legs she toys with a strap. “You want to hang out first? Listen to some music? Chat? Drink? Or do you want me naked?”
I turn my back to her and watch the party from behind the door. “Sure. In a minute.”
Bronx untangles himself from Kelsey and straightens to his feet before following Golden out onto the balcony.
“Stay here,” I order the woman.
Ignoring her questions I stalk back into the living room, grab a beer, and tower over Kelsey. “Get up.”
“No.” She folds her arms across her chest.
“Fine.” I stretch out my arm with the beer in it and tip the contents over her head.
She shrieks as the brown liquid soaks into her hair and T-shirt. The white cotton clings and turns semi-translucent.
“You are such a dick.” She climbs off the couch, wincing when she puts her weight on her ankle. “Ouch.”
Putting down the can, I plan to grab her elbow to support her weight. But that’s too nice for this situation when I need her to leave. Betrayal doesn’t merit kindness.
She betrayed me in the worst of ways. Breaking my heart, destroying our friendship, and almost ruining the band’s shot.
Pulling her shoulders back, she lifts her chin and walks away from me. I follow a few steps behind, entering Bronx’s bedroom behind her. I slam the door.
“Get out.” She glances around the room before picking up another of Bronx’s shirts from the floor. She drops it on the bed.
“You get out.” I cross my arms over my chest. She’s not going to tell me what to do. She’s the one who shouldn’t be here.
She turns her back on me. Gripping the hem of her wet T-shirt, she lifts it and exposes her pale back.
Jesus. I can see every bump of her spine from here. Why the fuck has she not been eating?
No. She doesn’t get my sympathy. She doesn’t get my worry. Not anymore. “You’re leaving.”
The collar drags her hair up with it, and when she’s finally free of the soggy cotton, her hair cascades down between her shoulder blades. She snatches up the fresher shirt from where she tossed it on the bed. Tugs it on and smooths it down.
My need for her to be gone is a thick, dark stain spreading on my soul. I’m propelled by it further into the room. “Get your shit. And get out of here before Bronx comes back inside.”
She turns around to glare at me. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any things.”
What does that mean? No, I don’t care. I tower over her. “Good. Then you can leave right now.”
“As long as Bronx wants me here...” She walks around me and curls her fingers around the handle. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“He doesn’t want you here.” I jostle her, close enough that my breath makes a few strands sway where it hits her hair.
“He does.” She twists around to face me, which brings us into contact. Plants her feet, even though it makes her grimace. Her lips flick viciously up. “He wants me in his bed so he can make me scream his name every night.”
I see red.
My hand wraps around her neck. Her back meets the door. I shove in close. I can’t see the whites surrounding her dark brown irises. She smells like hotel laundry, beer, and my fucking bandmate.
No cherries. No candy. No me.
“Get off me.” She pushes back.
I don’t budge. The pulse beneath her stubborn jaw beats defiantly under my thumb. Thump. Thump. Thump.
I got lost for a second. In the memory. In the dreams of a boy who didn’t know better. In a girl who made promises she never intended to keep. We were really something. Until we weren’t.
She’s a viper. She’s too close. But I can’t back down. I won’t give her an inch. Or a chance to sink her claws any deeper into Bronx.
Her breath is harsh and quick, but she takes control of it. Her softness turns to ice. Her chest expands. In comparison to the chaos inside me, her voice is too calm, too cold. “I told you to get off me.”
The urge to get closer is impossible to fight. I’m deliberate with my next words. Enunciating them as clearly as the bell of finality they are ringing. “Leave this suite. Stay away from Bronx, and from the band. Stay the fuck out of my life. Or you won’t like what I do next.”
I tighten my grip on the sides of her throat. She needs to know I mean it. That she should be scared of the lengths that I will go to in order to never see her again.
There’s a fraction of a second where it looks like she might do what I say. Her pupils dilate and that thump under my thumb seems to stop before speeding up. That used to be a giveaway she was into it.
It doesn’t last. She ignores my hand around her throat. “Fuck you, Riot Maddox.”
“You already did.” I drop my hand and yank the door open behind her. The panel pushes her to move to the side. “I won’t let you do it again.”
Leaving Bronx’s room, I lock eyes with my drummer who has come in from the balcony. He glowers at me and tucks his fists into his armpits. He’s no doubt cussing me out in his head. Stupid asshole gets one taste of her pussy and he’s fucking obsessed.
Golden is right behind him. He doesn’t look as peeved as he was earlier. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve done what I had to do to protect the band.
If Kelsey knows what’s good for her, she won’t stick around. She’ll leave tonight and get far the fuck away from L.A. Riot.
And me.