27. Kelsey
Kelsey
Relaxing on the couch, I toss another Cheeto up and catch it in my open mouth. One of the Scream movies is playing on the huge TV, while I’m currently huddled up in a cozy, comfy hotel robe imagining that Riot is the victim running from the killer and his stabby-stab knife.
His messages came through a little while ago. His threats are promises that make me tingle in the best ways. If he would only have made these promises years ago instead of being too busy defending that homewrecker from me.
Maybe I should plant myself in Golden’s bed. Riot might be inclined to leave me alone then. Or he’ll be even more jealous.
I mentally roll my eyes at myself. Why do I get such a thrill out of winding him up?
Knock. Knock.
The rapping makes me jump so high I almost fall off the couch. Sitting up, I curl my knees to my chest and watch Rook answer the door.
I was surprised he didn’t go to the party with them. But I’m the one with a target on her back I suppose. That makes me his biggest worry and liability.
He speaks to whoever is on the other side.
It’ll be room service—I ordered lobster mac and cheese, a burger with fries, and a vanilla sundae a little while ago—or it could be the delivery guy with my hair lightener.
Platinum blonde. It’s going to be truly awful.
Literally any other color would be more me, but that’s why I chose it. The less me I look the safer I’ll be.
It could also be Marco. I didn’t get a chance to tell the guys about it between getting back to the hotel after the photoshoot and them taking off to the party.
Is it me? Or did none of them seem particularly thrilled about attending tonight’s event?
I realize within seconds that it’s not Marco. If he was going to make a move either he or Rook would have pulled a weapon or caused a scuffle by now. I retract my nails from the skin on my knees.
For now, I’m safe.
Rook comes back into view. Another man in the hotel uniform follows him inside, pushing a cart. Room service. I climb off the couch. I’ve never been this happy to see food. Well, except for that night I ran into Bronx. But that was because I hadn’t eaten. This is because it’s my favorite dinner.
He leaves and I grab a fork and take the lids off the plates. Stabbing elbow shaped pasta onto my fork, I pop them in my mouth. They taste like cheesy, lobstery heaven. It’s been a long time since I’ve had something this decadent and comforting. “I ordered you a burger and fries.”
“You’re a sweetheart, Kelsey.” Rook shakes his head and gives me a wide grin. He picks up his burger with both hands and bites into it. Meat juice drips down his chin. “Much nicer than their current label appointed manager.”
I hand him a napkin. “Who is that?”
He grimaces as he wipes up. “Yes, well they’re not really involved.” Casting a glance at the door like he hopes someone bursts through it, weapons at the ready so he can have some way out of this conversation.
Probably because whoever the label chose is my replacement, and he assumes that I might—most definitely will—have hard feelings about that.
“This guy that was following you…” he says. “Tell me everything. You knew him? Do you have a name? A description? Any other details that will help me keep you and the band safe?”
We talk about Marco while we finish our dinner.
About how he killed Heaven and Loverboi.
How he used to be obsessed with me. I leave out the countless assaults when I lived under his dad’s roof.
That’s my baggage to carry alone. Rook’s discerning enough to read between the lines anyway.
We discuss how he seems to still be fascinated with me.
Enough that he didn’t kill me when he had opportunity to.
That doesn’t mean he won’t if there is no other choice.
“If he catches up to me, he is going to either leave me dead in the street. Or I’m going to go missing. ”
“I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Rook reaches over and covers my hand sympathetically. His gunmetal eyes have flecks of blue in them and a lot of genuineness. “You’re safe here.”
“Thank you. It means a lot.”
Maintaining eye contact, he squeezes once before withdrawing his hand.
“But it’s only temporary. I need to work out what I’m going to do after this.
” I stand and tighten the sash on my robe.
The movie is finished and my hair products have yet to be delivered.
Or, more likely, it got delivered downstairs and the concierge is confused since I’m not technically here.
I’ll ask Golden to bring it up for me in the morning.
“I won’t be here for any longer than I need to be. ”
“Well, for my part, I hope you need to be here a very long time. It’s been a shame not to have you around.”
“Thanks.” I squeeze his shoulder on my way past. It’s not fair that I only have a few months with these people I once considered family. Screw Riot for cheating on me and for taking the label’s side. Screw him for convincing me it was safe to want more than our friendship.
And fuck Marco for pushing me back into the past so I could miss these people all over again when it’s over.
I turn off the tv that was scrolling through the movie credits. “I’m going to go to bed.”
“I’m going to retire as well.” Rook gets up. He has a shoebox sized room outside of the main suite where he can monitor the whole situation while giving us as much privacy as possible. “If you need anything.”
“I’ll call.”
I stop in the kitchen once he’s gone and raid Kodiak’s snacks.
I’m stealing your Reese’s
Scary Girl, you can steal anything you want after that video. You have no idea how incredibly hard it was not to come straight back to the hotel and talk you into giving me a private show.
Something flutters in my belly. I was only thinking about getting at Riot, but the idea of the others watching... appreciating... I squeeze my thighs together. Until I remember that it was Kodiak’s name I called out.
How’s the party? Are you leaving soon?
Fucking hate these things. Unfortunately, yes, but not to come back to the hotel. Bronx, Golden, and I are heading to the afterparty for a bit. Some of us, cough... Golden... cough... Bronx ... cough... need to let off steam after that video...
Steam for Bronx and Golden could be anything from getting paralytically wasted to an orgy. Do I hope it’s the former? Maybe more than I should.
In a way that won’t make our frontman want to kill them.
Or was that your intention when you sent the video to all of us?
To make us obsessed with hearing you make those noises for us. Or just me? You did call out my name.
I had called out his name. I had imagined Riot being pushed to the edge of his control by Kodiak touching me. I did send it to all of them, not just Riot. So maybe... it was about more than revenge.
And you? Are you going to blow off some steam at the afterparty too?
I watch those dots on the screen come up over and over. Does the idea of him with another girl bother me?
I’m still holding out hope for my Scary Girl. Say the word...
You’re such a flirt.
Which I love.
It’s not going to get me you though, is it?
Is he still flirting? Or is he serious? He says we’re playing, but also says he would be serious if I told him that’s what I want.
I’m leaving in a couple of months. You’re the bassist for L.A. Riot. This flirtation is all we can have.
Cruel. It won’t stop me from trying to change your mind.
I can’t help my stupid smile or the warmth in my chest. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything but pain.
See you in the morning.
Sweet dreams, Scary Girl.
Crawling between the luxurious sheets that feel like a caress on my body, I turn on Supernatural reruns and continue my horror binge while I enjoy my salty-sweet contraband.
I’m suffocating. The weight on my chest is too heavy. I can hardly draw in a proper breath. One of his hands covers my mouth when I try to scream. His other hand pries my legs apart. “Next time you go to the cops I’m going to kill you.”
I bolt upright, sending tiny pieces of foil flying.
My heart is beating as fast as a Hummingbird’s wings in its attempt to escape my chest. His face is as vivid in my mind as it would be if he were right in front of me.
I bring my knees to my chest and wind both arms tightly around them blinking several times to make sure that he isn’t truly in front of me.
Marco.
I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart when...
Crash!
I jump out of my skin. Coping strategies disappear from my mind as my bedroom door flies open, and I choke on a scream.
“Little Vandal.” Riot announces loudly, leaning in the doorway at an angle where he should not be able to keep upright. His eyes are red and unfocused. He squints as he looks around the room eyes settling on me. “There is you.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I crawl up to the headboard when he stumbles to the foot of the bed. There’s blood on his hand. “What did you do to yourself?”
“Ran into itchen.” He screws his face up. “Itching? Kurt…”
“You’re drunk.” He must have had a lot to be slurring this bad.
“Says.” He sits on the bed next to me. His eyes are glazed, his pupils pinpoint.
Or it’s not just alcohol. Obviously, it will be weed too.
“Stoned?”
“Funky knobs lily.” He flops heavily onto his back.
Bronx warned me his partying had gotten worse. And I’ve seen some of it firsthand. The powder on his nose. The little baggies of pills. “High?”
“Mm hmm. Truth Candy?” He reaches up and rubs a strand of my hair between his thumb and forefinger. “That video... sexy. His name... not your lips.”
“What?”
“You is me?” He continues to play with my hair while he presses the fingers of his other hand against the bridge of his nose. “Miss me. You left me.”
“It’s always about you, isn’t it?” My vision blurs. There’s a heaviness inside me that I can’t stand. He’s the one who cheated on me. How dare he come in here in the state he’s in and—
“Meant to be…” he says on air that doesn’t seem to be there. His fingers still in my hair. “Us.”
“What are you trying to say?” Is he trying to say that he missed me? It’s too little too late. Are his fingernails turning purple? “Riot?”
His eyes have shut. His lips have a tinge of blueish gray to them.
My stomach falls. This can’t be good. “Riot?”
Nothing.
I grab both his arms and shake him. Please respond to me. “Riot, Riot, wake up?”
Nothing.
I use my fingers on his wrist to check for a pulse. Shit. Please. Okay. Thank God. It’s there. But his skin is clammy and cold.
“Rook!” I scream as I lunge for my phone on the nightstand. I fall headfirst to the floor, barely managing to catch myself on my arms. A shock of pain travels up through my shoulders and neck.
Ignoring the pain, I get back on the bed while I ring Sam.
Time slows while I wait for the tour doctor to pick up. While I check Riot’s pulse again. I used to carry Naloxone in my purse. Why hadn’t I restocked? Shit. Shit. Shit. “You fucking asshole. Don’t you do this to me.”
Let me hate you. Don’t make me grieve you too.
Rook comes rushing into the room. Service weapon drawn. He stumbles to a halt for all of a second before he’s running back out of the room.
“Yes,” Sam’s sleep crusty voice comes through.
“Riot. He came in slurring. Possibly high. He’s not responding.” His pulse is weakening. “Have you got Narcan?”
“I do.” Rook rushes back into the room with the medicine in his hand. He leaps over the bed. Grips the back of Riot’s head, tilts it back, and sprays the stuff in his nose. “Come on, kid. Fight.”
“Give him a minute,” Sam’s voice is much more alert.
I can hear him moving about. No doubt he’ll be up here in the next few minutes.
“Anything yet?” Sam asks. A door closes.
“Not yet.”
“Do you remember how to do a sternum rub?”
“On it.” I rub my knuckles vigorously over Riot’s sternum.
He starts to rouse.
“Thank God.” I sob. I don’t mean to. It just comes out. I’m not supposed to get emotional over this jackass. I’m not supposed to give a shit about him anymore.
“I’ll go let Doc in.” Rook straightens and leaves the room.
Riot opens his eyes.
“Kelsey?” His brows squish together. He curls his fingers around my wrist, my hand still on his chest.
“I’m here,” I promise. For right now I am here.
“I miss you so fucking much.” He pulls me down on his chest. I don’t have the venom to fight him on it when he palms the back of my head and captures my mouth with his.
I fall into it. Into the pressure of his lips on mine. The slide of his tongue when I open for him. Into the familiarity and long forgotten sweetness. It’s bittersweet. It’s broken promises and unsaid goodbyes. It’s a slow working poison that makes every inch of my soul ache with loss.
I can barely breathe with the intensity of it.
Sam clears his throat. “Sternum rubs don’t usually require mouth to mouth.”
Crap. When did he come into the room? I push myself up and away from Riot.
Oh my God, what am I doing?