Chapter One
Matt woke up feeling like utter shit.
Last night was one helluva night.
Chloe’s twenty-fifth birthday and the Eros party at the Red Door—need he say more?
It’s not like he made fucking his bandmates or their girlfriends a habit, but Bo did ask him to.
He couldn’t blame it on the alcohol, either.
Matt was only on his second drink when he followed them into that private alcove.
The truth? He wanted to.
The real question was, why?
Yes, Ava was a lovely girl, and yes, Matt was attracted to her. But she wasn’t his. And while he fucked a dude now and then, he wasn’t into Bo—or men in general—though he loved the guy. He couldn’t explain it, but when Venery’s drummer whispered the request in his ear, his dick got hard.
Bo didn’t have to ask him twice.
Would he do it again? Yeah, maybe.
On the regular? Hell, no.
He understood that what Chloe, Jesse, and Taylor had together was a rare and beautiful thing, but it wasn’t for him.
It could be that he was just ready to fuck when Bo asked if he’d play with him and Ava. And who better to play with than people you know and love, right?
Right.
So why did he feel like shit then?
Matt sat up in his bed, and while rubbing his eyes, he glanced around at the black furnishings, white walls, and the kitschy artwork he’d collected over the years. “Fucking Kit, that’s why.”
Not many understood how close all of them were and how much they all loved each other.
Matt, his bandmates, and the Byrne cousins grew up together on the same block in this very neighborhood.
It was no accident they turned Park Place into a family compound in the middle of the city because that was what they were. Family.
And there was no one in this world Matt cared about more dearly than Kit.
He didn’t get it. They were at a sex club, for fuck’s sake.
Matt and Kit frequented the playpen downstairs, banged groupies, models, and starlets together.
It wasn’t like Bo didn’t invite Kit to play with them when he walked in on their scene, so why did he look so butthurt to find them naked and covered in each other’s cum?
Determined to understand it, Matt got out of bed.
As soon as he showered and sufficiently caffeinated himself, he was going across the street to talk with Venery’s bassist. At the very least, he owed Ava an apology.
The girl did nothing wrong. As sweet as could be, she reached for Kit, and he rejected her.
Dick move, man. Whatever was going on in that fucked up head of his, she didn’t deserve that.
There wasn’t nearly enough coffee circulating in his bloodstream for this. He opened the door of his three-level brownstone and stepped out into the cutting February air. Fuck this shit.
Matt spotted Bo and Emmy with their dog, so he went next door instead.
“Yo, Bo-Bo.”
“Hey, man.” He stopped on the sidewalk in front of his house. Emmy wiped her runny nose on her mitten, Chester dutifully positioning himself at her feet. “It feels colder than I thought it would. I need to get my ass back in the house. Wanna come in?”
“Sure, okay.” Matt crouched on his haunches in front of Bo’s little girl. “Is that all right with you?”
“Uh-huh.” And her arms wound tightly around his neck.
“Hop on.” He gestured to Emery to climb up on his back. “You’re getting a piggyback ride.”
She squealed all the way to the kitchen.
He set her down on the gleaming wood island. A clean freak, Bo’s place was always immaculate. Matt looked on while the drummer unbundled his daughter, cleaned the snot running from her nose, and set her up with a cup of warm chocolate and Frozen on the big TV screen.
“That’s a lucky little girl right there.”
“Nah, man.” Gazing across the room at his three-year-old mini-me, his lips turned up. “I’m the lucky one.”
Truth.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah, I could use some.” Maybe a third cup would do the trick.
“So, where were you going?” Bo asked, reaching into the cabinet for a mug. “I know it wasn’t to see me unless you miss my dick already or something.”
“Fuck you, man.” He shook his head, chuckling, and climbed onto a stool. “You miss mine.”
“It did feel rather nice.” Bo shrugged, popping in a coffee pod to brew. He turned around and leaned back against the counter. “If Avie ever wanted to play again, I wouldn’t say no.”
“Why would she want to?”
And why did the thought of it make his dick hard?
“She enjoyed last night,” he said and placed a cup of Sumatra roast in front of him. “It gets me off knowing she accepts that side of me, you know?”
“Yeah, I get that.” Isn’t that what everybody wants? To be loved for exactly who they are. “I’m happy for you, my dude. Ava’s a special one.”
“Thank you for making her feel so good.” Bo set a cup for himself down next to his, and rubbing his ass, he winked. “And me, too. You know I love ya, man.”
“Back at you.” With a short nod, Matt raised the mug to his lips and glanced at Bo’s cookie jar on the counter.
Life is short, eat the cookie. Ain’t that the fucking truth?
Then, he turned to his bandmate and said, “I wouldn’t make a habit of it, but if you two ever wanted to play again, I wouldn’t say no, either. We had a good time.”
“Yeah?”
That he could admit it surprised him. Hell, it even surprised Bo.
Matt discovered he much preferred playing with people he cared about as opposed to random members at the Red Door.
While there weren’t expectations beyond having fun on anyone’s part, it was more than just sex, and that made it feel even better.
He tugged on his friend’s hair. “Yeah.”
“Can I top?” Bo waggled his brows.
Matt nearly choked on his coffee. “Now, you’re pushing it.”
“Hard limit then, eh? I’d be gentle,” he said with a straight face, then chortled. “Just fucking with ya, but don’t knock it ’til you try it.”
“Pass, thanks.” Matt chewed on the corner of his lip. “I’m just glad Ava’s good with last night, especially after that bullshit with Kit. I was going there to ream him out for it.”
“Don’t.”
“Why not? What he did was really shitty.”
“Kit didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, Matt, and Avie knows it.” Wetting his lips, Bo tipped his head. “I explained it to her.”
“Explained what?”
“You know. He’s never been the same since Courtney. She fucked him up good.”
Yeah, he knew. “Still…”
“Not to mention, I think we freaked him out a little bit.”
“How?” Matt asked, cocking his head.
“I’m pretty sure he knows what we did.” Rocking on the stool, Bo glanced at his daughter, then lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “And in all the years we’ve known each other, toured in that tin can on wheels… partied together… we’re the first ones to… you know.”
“Fuck?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, drinking his coffee.
“You and Tay never…?”
“Nah, man,” Bo said, looking him right in the eye. “We shared plenty of chicks back in the day, but that’s it.”
Well, fuck me.
Venery lived up to their name. All of them were sexual deviants by mainstream standards, there weren’t many experiences they hadn’t shared, but come to think of it, Bo was right.
He couldn’t recall a time when the drummer and their lead guitarist so much as looked at each other, but then Taylor had loved Jesse for a long time now.
Chloe sealed the deal. The three of them married, and two kids later, they were more in love than ever.
“It’s been sixteen years, for fuck’s sake. Kit needs to get over that cunt. He deserves to be happy.”
Just like Taylor.
Just like Bo.
Hell, Sloan deserved some happiness, too. And maybe even him.
“I hate to hear any woman called that, but I’ve never met one who earned it like Courtney did. Oh, and we can’t forget Salena.” Bo wrinkled his nose with a shudder. “Does Kit ever talk about it?”
“Never.” Matt put down his mug and loudly exhaled. “Thought I was hearing things when he said her name at Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah, and he kept a picture of her, too.” Rubbing at his lips, Bo nodded. “Maybe you can get him to talk to Monica. He needs therapy or something, bro.”
“Heh.” Like he hadn’t already tried?
“Yeah, okay, maybe not.” Bo raised his hands. “I’m not sure who to worry about more—Kit or Sloan.”
“I’m right there with ya, man.” Matt drained his cup and stood. “I should get going. Thanks for the coffee and the talk.”
“Anytime.” With a squeeze to his forearm, Bo led him out of the kitchen. “You’re coming for Emmy’s birthday on Sunday, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Matt nodded, and turning toward Emery, he ruffled her hair. “Hey, Buttercup, I gotta go. You gonna hug me goodbye?”
“Yesss.” She made a running jump into his arms and pressed a messy smooch on his cheek. “I wuv you, Unkey.”
She called all the Venery boys that. Kodiak, Brendan, and Dillon, too. The girls were her aunties. The other kids, her cousins. See, no one had to share blood to be considered family here. They just were.
What the fuck was he doing with his life?
Well past noon on a Saturday, Matt plucked at his guitar, staring at the bedroom ceiling.
Five months since Venery’s summer tour ended, he had little to fill his days when he was used to burning through them at full throttle.
Record an album. Release it. Go on tour.
Wash, rinse, and repeat. He was lucky if he was home six weeks out of the year then. But then, the label controlled them.
Not anymore, you don’t. Fuckers.
Taylor got married and put the media on blast. Venery sued the record label, won, and built their own studio.
They put out a new record every year or two and cut their tour schedule down—drastically.
Running on fumes, at the grueling pace they’d been going for over a decade, the boys agreed they needed a rest. If they didn’t, they’d break.
It was the right move, but since then, Matt found he had a lot of leftover time on his hands.
Too much. He loved his house, but he was tired of sitting here, wasting most of his days doing nothing.
Should he find a hobby? He liked to build model cars when he was a kid.
Nah. Volunteer? Maybe. A project? Now, there’s a thought. Something music-related would be cool.
The bell rang. He hit the button to open it.
“About time.”
After another late night at the club, he was fucking starving.
Wearing a pair of grungy old sweats, Matt went to the door. A girl stood on the other side. Long dark hair in a ponytail, her eyes a mix of sable and green, she cocked her hip, his pizza in her hand.
He licked his lips. “You’re not Luca.”
“Nope.” Shifting her eyes, she scanned his bare torso and made a face.
“Who are you?”
“The pizza girl.” She smirked, shoving the box into his hands. “It’s gonna get cold.”
Then she turned around and skipped down his porch steps.
An urge to chase after her came over him, but he refrained.
“Hey, you got a name, pizza girl?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
What the hell?
Her ponytail swinging, she glanced back at him from over her shoulder. Shaking his head, Matt took a step inside the house.
“It’s Gina.”
She’ll be back.
And closing the door behind him, he grinned.