Chapter 8 Riot
Riot
The party is winding down when I enter the suite, which is unusual because these things tend to turn into a fuckfestapalooza. But then we’ll be leaving soon to take Neil to rehab, so the atmosphere is more subdued than normal.
Golden and Bronx sit on a sofa with a couple of groupies.
They pass a bottle between them. Golden spots me and hands one of the girls his room key then indicates to security that they should escort the girls.
No doubt they’ll join them after to burn off some of the anxiety we’re all feeling over Neil.
I need a smoke. Something to take the edge off this tension headache before it turns into a migraine.
“Riot.” Sonatina’s voice reaches me.
Too late. The pain in my temples and jaw ratchets up.
She drags Carmine in my direction before I can escape. “Riot, I’m glad we got to meet. I’m so excited we’re going to collab. You and I are going to have a great time in the studio.”
“Absolutely,” I say. I don’t mean it, but I’m not going to offend Carmine.
Carmine nods and moves on to the next person he needs to talk to, leaving me alone with his daughter.
Sonatina leaps the second his back is turned. Her arms wrap around me like a python.
I do a better job of avoiding her kiss this time, her lips smacking my jaw instead of my mouth.
“I’ll go home and pack my bags. Call me when you’re ready to leave.”
“Leave?” What the hell is she talking about?
“For the wedding.” She winks.
“There is no wedding, Sonatina.” And even if it was meant to be public knowledge—I still have no clue how she happens to know—I wouldn’t invite her. I’m going with Kelsey, who I plan to have a long serious conversation with on the way.
“Call me Sonny.” She stuffs her hand into my pocket. And then she pats my chest and affects a flirtatious, baby voice. “To get you by until you come to collect me.”
Is she for real? I cross my arms over my chest. “I won’t.”
“You will. I’m every man’s fantasy. Including yours.”
Carmine’s gaze narrows on me from where he’s hovering near the door. “Carmine’s waiting.”
“See you soon, lover boy.” Sonatina wiggles her fingers at me as she leaves.
If I didn’t need a smoke already, I’m dangerously in need now. I reach into my pocket as I cross the room and pull out the gift Sonatina left me. The square of silk unfolds into a damp black thong.
I scrub a hand down my face. Women give us their panties all the time. They throw them on stage, send them in the mail, deposit them in our pockets. It happens. Frequently. But when the daughter of the head of the label does it, that’s some bullshit I don’t want to deal with.
A hum starts between my shoulder blades, it fills my head and melts the tension from my muscles. It’s been like this for as long as I’ve known Kelsey. I don’t have to turn around to know she’s joined us. I’m aware of her in a way that I’m not of anyone else.
I ball the panties into my fist. I’ll have to trash them later. Until then, I shove them back in my pocket. I turn and watch her walk toward me while I reach for the tin in my jacket.
“Where’s Neil?” she asks.
I glance in the direction of the open door to his bedroom. The sounds coming from within make it obvious he’s not alone. “He’s enjoying one last hurrah.”
“Of course.” She sounds exhausted and a little off. But Sam let her go in record time so that must be a good sign.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder as we make a line for the balcony. I stick one of the pre-rolled joints between my lips. “How’d everything go with the doc?”
I’m troubled by how quiet she is.
“Nothing to worry about.” She stares out at the glowing Manhattan skyline.
“I’m always going to worry about you, candy head.” Taking the joint between finger and thumb, I bring her in closer and press my lips to the top of her head.
She doesn’t seem to like that, pulling away quicker than normal. “We should be more careful. People are going to think something’s going on with us.”
What’s that about? I take out my Zippo and light the end of the paper. The sweet fragrance fills the air as the smoke fills my lungs. It disperses through my body, easing the tension I’ve been carrying all night.
“And we wouldn’t want that?” Because that’s exactly what I want. What I plan on asking for. I hold the smoke out for her. “Want a hit?”
“Not tonight.” She faces me while I take another drag. “Listen, Riot. You know—”
“Hey guys.” Bronx hangs through the doorway. “It’s time.”
“Shit. I just lit this,” I grump, though it’s the conversation with Kels that has me all bothered. That and none of us know what will happen with Neil after he’s done with rehab. He may not want to come back. L.A. Riot may never be the same band we are right now.
“Sam wants to leave in few minutes,” Bronx adds.
With my head hanging, I press my hand to the small of Kelsey’s back. “The next couple hours are going to feel like a year.”
The ride back from dropping Neil to the rehab facility is subdued. We drop Golden and Bronx at the hotel where they still have company waiting for them. Once we’re in the parking garage, Sam takes off, leaving Kelsey and me alone. At last.
Snagging Kelsey’s wrist, I spin her back to me as the doors at the far end of the structure close. “Finally, we’re alone. I swear I’m dying here, not being able to touch you whenever I want.”
“Riot,” she admonishes and then shrieks when I pick her up and press her back to the side of the bus. Her thighs wrap around my hips, those pointy heels digging into my legs while I dive in for a kiss.
She curls her fingers in my hair as I skate my lips along her neck and tug her panties to the side so I can circle her clit. “That feels good.”
Talking can wait a little longer.
“This pussy needs to be fucked, doesn’t it, candy head?” I capture her mouth and fuse it with mine. “God knows, I need to fuck it.”