24. Riot
Riot
We walk out of the elevator and into the luxurious Savant penthouse the label keeps in Seattle. It’s one of many venues around the country where Carmine and his head honchos like to host their shindigs.
The penthouse is full of people. They drink champagne and chat about trivial and pedestrian things that sound important but could have been handled in a text message.
The theme for tonight is black and white, and it is everywhere. From the furnishings to the apparel to the food being brought out from the kitchen by catering staff.
Above us is a huge chandelier. Crystals catch and reflect light like glitter over the whole room.
Sonatina Savant is chatting to one of her father’s execs over champagne. She’s wearing a tiny, sheer white dress and the man cannot make eye contact to save his life. Spotting me, she excuses herself. She snags another flute of bubbles and prowls toward us.
Toying with the strings of pearls that wrap around her throat and get lower with every loop until they end at her belly button, her smile turns into a frown as she peruses the four of us.
Golden pulls the hood of his bright red hoodie over his head. “I’m going to get a drink.”
“I’ll join you,” Kodiak says and follows him.
Bronx stays.
“You could have at least tried.” Stopping in front of me, she hands me a flute. She grips one of my shoulders and presses her lips against each of my cheeks. “I did tell you it was black and white. That’s like your whole look, Baby.”
I turn when she tries to kiss my mouth, so she gets my cheek again. “We’re not together.”
Her gaze narrows. I drain my glass and put it aside. She’s going to make me pay for that.
“Red hoodie. Green flannel.” She checks each of my band mates out with disdain before landing on Bronx. “Blue jeans, seriously? Do you hate me that much?”
“Well, I don’t like you,” Bronx says, watching the crowd and not bothering to make eye contact with her.
“You don’t have to.” She smiles at him like they’re the best of friends. “I can have you replaced.”
“Sonatina.” I grip her wrist.
Her gaze slides back to me.
“What do you want?” The sooner we can get to the point the sooner I can get wasted.
“I wanted to check in on my boys.” She plasters that bitch-ass fake smile back on her face. “How’s the tour going? Are you all getting along? The numbers have been sensational. But a little birdie told me there might be an issue... If you need another assistant, I’ll be happy to hire one for you.”
“We can manage our own affairs,” Bronx tells her.
“No need. That’s why I’m your manager, silly.”
No, she’s our manager because after Kelsey fucked us and took off, we had no choice but to agree to whatever Carmine wanted. And what Carmine always wants is to make his diva daughter happy.
“You can concentrate on what you do best, and I can make sure everything runs smoothly for the label. Which is why I am confused that your old assistant has been spotted at your concerts. After she extorted hundreds of thousands of dollars from the band. It’s a bad look.”
I shrug. Where is she getting her information from? It could more easily be social media than someone in our troupe, but I need to find out which. “I haven’t seen her.”
“Have you seen her, Bronx?” She peers at him.
“Nope.” He snags a glass of champagne from a tray when a staffer waltzes by and drains the glass. “Maybe she wanted to see how we’re doing without her.”
“If she did, she would have gotten to enjoy one of our new songs,” I tell Sonatina.
Her eyes light up. “You’re writing?”
“Hate songs,” I say.
“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.”