Chapter 10
TEN
“ O h, come on, please, Fox,” Strike whines, placing his hands together in a prayer as he pouts at me. “One night to celebrate. Your lyrics and scribbles will still be here when you get back. You don’t even have to drink.”
“We have to be up early for the interview. You guys can go if you want to,” I mutter, focusing on my notepad. Don’t they understand I need to work? I have to write songs so we can keep growing.
“Fox,” Ry snaps as he turns from the mirror where he was fussing with his hair.
I don’t know why. It always looks perfect.
Heading my way, he places his ring-covered hands on my arms. “This is great news. We should celebrate like we used to—together as a band. Po is right. This is important. It’s our chance.
Don’t you want to celebrate with us? We worked so hard for this. Come on, it will be like old times.”
My heart skips a beat then slams in my chest as I stare into his eyes.
It’s the closest we’ve been without a camera on us in ages.
I can smell his whiskey scent and feel his warmth.
My eyes sweep over his stunning face, desire pooling low in my belly as I remember the way it felt pressed against my chest as he slept.
His smile drops, and he glances at my lips as if remembering as well, and my gaze moves lower, watching his Adam’s apple bob.
My eyes drop to his partially opened shirt, and I see the scratch marks there, making my heart go cold. The desire and want I felt disappear, so I steel myself and glare at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, no doubt sensing the change in me.
At this point, I’d rather die than admit that I’m in love with him.
I eye his hands on my arms, and he leans back, removing them. “Please?” he cajoles. “Just a few drinks, some music, and then we’ll come back. No getting drunk or misbehaving.”
I scoff, not believing him. He doesn’t know how to control himself anymore. He can’t lie to me.
“I promise,” he begs, standing next to Strike and copying his pose. Dash quickly joins in on his other side. “Just us tonight to celebrate how far we’ve come. Don’t make us go without you. We’re a family.”
I want to ask when we became a family again, but the hope in their eyes is my undoing. I don’t want to make them sad or disappoint them. This is big news, and they are right. We should celebrate. It’s not their fault I have feelings for that idiot.
“Fine, give me five,” I mutter as I stand.
I head upstairs to my room, ignoring their cheers.
I’m back down in under four minutes, my hair loose and wavy.
The blue was only refreshed this morning for the interview, so it looks good.
I have my rings, earrings, and necklaces in place and wear leather pants with a big belt, a sheer shirt, and my usual leather jacket.
I ignore the eyes on me, refusing to look as I pull my boots on and head out the door.
“Are you coming?” I call.
“It’s party time!” I hear Dash yell, and I can’t help but smile.
Ryker picked the place, since he knows all the clubs and hangout spots.
He spends all his nights in them so he should.
There’s a line when we get out of the car, and it stretches all the way down the block.
I hesitate when I see how busy the converted church is, but Ryker ignores the line and heads right to the door.
Sighing, I follow him. I hear whispers, and I even see some people snapping pictures. “Are we okay here?” I ask him.
He turns his head, and I have to jerk back to prevent his lips from crashing into mine. His eyes widen, and he doesn’t speak for a minute. “Ry?”
“Oh, um . . .” He blinks and laughs. “Yeah, only celebrities are allowed, and no photos, so we are fine.” Turning back to the bouncer, he flashes his smile, and the door is opened despite the extensive line.
“How often do you come here for them to know you on sight?” Dash chuckles, slinging an arm around Ry as he heads through the ancient-looking church door.
Strike loops his arm with mine and grins at me. “Come on. Forget everything else, let’s have a good night.”
“Sure,” I mutter, trying to force myself to cheer up since he’s so excited, but he frowns, obviously sensing my mood. I lean closer and murmur, “I promise I’m fine. Let’s have a good night.”
That perks him up, and when I glance back, Dash and Ry are waiting for us. Dash is smiling, but Ry’s eyes are hard as he glances between Strike and me. My frown deepens, but he turns away and heads through another set of chapel doors, and we have no choice except to follow.
Once through the next set, the beat flows through me.
There is a famous punk song playing, and that makes my eyebrows rise.
I don’t know what I expected, but it isn’t the Gothic, satanic church vibe they have going, with a huge demon at the back wrapped around a cross, blowing fire.
The red lights only add to the atmosphere.
The bar is painted black, and there are cages hanging from the ceiling with dancers inside.
The stained-glass windows are a mocking reminder as celebrities dance or sprawl across casual sofas and even some pews.
I can’t help but stare. It’s fucking amazing.
“I thought you might like this place,” Ry yells into my ear, leaning up to be heard. “I’ve wanted to bring you here for a while.”
He kept asking, and I kept saying no.
His hand slides down my arm, and his fingers twine with mine as he tugs me along.
“Come on, let’s grab a table.” I stare at our joined hands, and he tugs me, so I let him pull me after him.
The warmth of his palm against mine causes desire and joy to course through me, right up until a beautiful woman steps into our path.
Her eyes are sparkling and familiar as she looks at Ryker.
“Hi, Ryker. I’m Chelsea. Remember me?” She smiles seductively, caressing her hand along his forearm. He doesn’t push her away, but he grips my hand tighter.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” he replies, sounding uncertain before he turns the charm on. “You look beautiful tonight.”
She giggles and clutches his arm, refusing to let go, and she’s basically dragged between us.
We both know who will win, so I bow out.
Pulling my hand free, I smile at them. “I’m going to grab a drink.”
“Fox, wait—” I ignore his voice and head over to the bar with Strike and Dash.
They pull me between them. “What are you drinking?” Dash asks.
“Just a beer, thanks,” I call over the music as a man in a waistcoat and not much else comes over and leans into Dash to take his order.
I glance behind us, unable to help myself.
Despite his words, Ry doesn’t seem too bothered about me leaving.
Chelsea is plastered against him, stroking his chest as she grins up at him while he smiles down at her.
Looks like he’s found his latest in a long line.
Turning away in annoyance, I nod my thanks to the bartender and drain some of my beer. “Want to grab a table?” Dash asks, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
I shouldn’t have come. I knew what I would see, which is exactly why I don’t go out with him or them. I’m trying to move on from my feelings for Ry, but I’m not strong enough to watch him fuck around right in front of me. Knowing it and seeing it are two very different things.
“Don’t let him ruin your night,” Strike murmurs to me, smiling sadly.
I nod and force another smile, not wanting to ruin Strike’s. Draping my arms around him and Dash, I turn back to the club. “Let’s do this. Where do you want to sit?”
“Oh, over there.” Dash points at a square selection of sofas, and I let him lead us across the dance floor.
As soon as we sit, people flock to us. It’s something I’m still not used to, but even amongst celebrities, we seem to be popular.
I don’t know if it’s because we are new or if they genuinely like us, but it’s hard to tell, and none of it ever appears genuine or real.
Just like my and Ry’s relationship, it’s all for show.
I smile and talk with them, never going too deep. I joke and laugh, letting Strike and Dash lead the conversation until Dash leans forward. “Sorry, lovers, we are out celebrating tonight. It’s a band night, you understand?”
They wander away and leave us in peace, and I sip my beer as I tap my foot to the music until Ryker suddenly appears.
“Sorry about that.” He offers us a grin and slides onto the couch next to me, sitting so close our thighs touch despite there being room on the other side.
“Managed to escape the one-night stand?” Dash jokes.
I feel Strike’s eyes on me, but I ignore him as I sip my beer. It doesn’t hurt me anymore. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“Something like that,” Ryker mutters, and then he leans into me. “Did you get me a drink?”
“Bar’s there, get your own,” I grumble, and then I lean into Strike. “Did you see that Olly is over there, from Scar Head?”
“I did. Is it weird if we fanboy and go over?” Strike laughs, leaning into me and giving me the out I need from Ry. I feel his eyes on me, but I ignore him. I’m not his slave, nor his boy. I’m his bandmate, and at this point, I’m barely that. He made it this way, so he has to live with it.
“Oh, I met him the other night. Want me to introduce you?” Ryker offers hopefully, butting in. Strike and I share a look, and I sit back and nurse my beer. Ry seems to slump. “I can. He’s really nice.”
“It’s okay,” Strike replies. “I’m sure we’ll meet him later.”
“Okay.” Ry slumps further, looking at us before perking up. “You guys want another drink?”
“Sure,” Dash answers, and Ry hops up, grinning at us. “Strike? Fox?”
“I’m good,” I murmur, scanning the crowd.
“I’m okay, thanks,” Strike tells him.
I feel Ry staring, but then he’s gone, and I take another sip of my beer. He returns quickly and sits right next to me again, sipping some fruity cocktail. “Good club, right?” He’s trying too hard, and I respect that. We’ve all been distant recently, so I relax a little and try to be his friend.