Chapter Eighteen #2
Skye pushed through the crowd, as if she could somehow sense when a band member was making a bad decision. Fuck, maybe her demon magic could sense that.
“Liam!” Skye screamed, throwing her arms up. “Don’t you fucking fall. You can’t play the drums with broken arms!”
“Rick Allen from Def Leppard only played with one arm,” Liam called out as he climbed down the balcony railing and over to the edge of the house, which had an iron-fence design down the side. “So as long as I protect one of them—”
He hopped down to the ground and turned, lifting both fists in the air. “Victory!”
Everyone cheered. Remi laughed.
Skye had smoke coming out of her ears.
Literally.
Remi jogged over and touched her shoulder. She rounded on him, and her eyes flashed red.
“Wanna cool it, Lilith? You’re smoking up.” He waved his fingers around his own ears.
Skye blinked several times until her eyes turned back to their normal golden brown and the smoke dissipated. Ignoring Remi, she turned back to Liam. “Why? What in the Devil’s name made you do that?”
Liam rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, so I was balls deep in this girl, right?”
“Jesus Christ,” Skye said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“—and her boyfriend or something walks in. He was fucking huge, and I knew that if I stuck around, I’d probably get both my arms and legs snapped, so because I’m so dedicated to the band, I jumped out the window.” He opened his palms and shrugged, grinning. “It’s all for the band, Skye.”
Remi laughed. Not sure what was more entertaining. The story or Skye’s distress.
Skye sighed. Without her glower leveled at him, Remi noticed she looked a little tired. Her skin seemed paler. Her brash and tough exterior almost appeared dinged up.
He pressed his lips together. What did he care? She was ruining his life. He was glad she was stressed.
“Relax, Skye! Here, let me get you a xanny or something,” Liam said. “I just have to find—”
“I can help with that,” a woman said. She wore a tight red dress and a sultry smile. Her long blonde hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders. Remi vaguely recognized her from the VIP meet-and-greet group. She held Remi’s gaze. “I’m sure I’ve got anything you’re looking for.”
The corner of Remi’s mouth quirked. He stepped next to her and slipped his arm around her waist, turning slightly so Skye would have full view of it.
“Hi, baby. I’m Remi.” He reached out his free hand and clasped hers. She was short and petite with big blue eyes. Her left hand had a dainty diamond bracelet that screamed wealth.
“I know who you are,” she said, grinning and wrapping her delicate fingers around his. “Jillian Kennedy.” Her eyes twinkled. “Want to come to my den?”
“Oh, yes,” Remi said. “I certainly do.”
“I’m coming too!” Liam said, bouncing up and down behind them. Remi didn’t look back, but he could feel that Skye was following them. To keep them out of trouble? Piss on their party? He didn’t know. Didn’t care.
Jillian led them through the lavish house.
It might have been even bigger and more opulent than the one the label had set them up in.
She punched in a code on a door on the second floor, opening it to reveal a huge four-poster bed and a carpet so plush that Remi’s combat boots sunk in like mud as he crossed through.
With a swish of her hips, Jillian sashayed to the desk and opened several drawers in a row.
“I’ve got percs, Xanax, Adderall, coke, and weed, of course.” She pointed to each pill bottle and baggie. “There are a couple of other benzos in the back, but I’m out of K. Alcohol is downstairs on the counter. I could probably call someone for dope, but it’d take an hour to get here.”
“Wow. Did you rob a pharmacy or something?” Liam said. He started grabbing the pill bottles and inspecting them.
She laughed, a light and airy sound. “This isn’t my stuff. This isn’t my house. You never saw any of this. I was never here,” she said and winked at Liam.
Liam’s eyes were wide as he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He pulled out a tiny pouch of white powder. “How much?”
She gave a number, and then lowered it because she loved our show tonight.
“Skye,” Liam whipped around and patted her arm like a kid begging his mom for candy. “Pay the nice lady so I can get fucked up.”
Skye sighed.
“How about a freebie?” Jillian asked. She doled out a couple of lines on the desk.
Liam clapped his hands and got out his wallet to retrieve a bill. He rolled it and bent over the desk.
While both of their backs were turned, Skye walked up next to Remi. He was a little distracted by the way her bare arm brushed against his that he almost missed the flicker of flames bursting in her hand and cash appearing at the same time the flames vanished.
Liam snorted his line. “Woo-eeee!” He turned and grabbed the money from Skye, handing it over to Jillian.
Remi plucked the rolled bill from his bandmate’s hand and snorted one of the lines, inhaling the powder and relishing the burn in the back of his nose and throat.
The drug hadn’t hit his system yet, but his limbs already felt lighter, a conditioned response.
Without much thought, he offered the bill to Skye.
She didn’t hesitate to pluck the bill from him.
Remi should have moved out of the way, but he didn’t, forcing her to lean against him as she bent forward.
His eyes fell to her ass, and he imagined his hands wrapped around the curve of her hips, slamming into her from behind, fucking her against this desk.
Jillian popped into view, and Remi jerked back as her hand ran over his chest. She fluttered her eyelashes up at him. “You were so great tonight.”
“Thank you.” He smiled and checked her out. Her tight red dress had a square neckline that put her cleavage on display. The edge of some multi-colored ink peeked out near her collarbone. “Your tattoo is great.”
Jillian giggled and squeezed his arm, shrugging her shoulder so her dress strap fell off and the butterfly tattoo was unobscured. “You like it?”
Remi sucked on his lip ring, his eyes darting between the tattoo and her tits. “Uh huh. Love it.”
Skye scoffed.
“Hey! That girl I was banging had the same tattoo!” Liam said.
“Emily is my best friend,” Jillian said. “We got matching tattoos, but you should be careful with her. She has a boyfriend, and she’s a little psychotic. She’s been known to stow away on tour buses.”
“Really?” Remi asked, eyebrows raised.
Everyone except Jillian did another line. She stood by and told wild stories about her friend.
Remi refused to look at Skye. She didn’t say a word, didn’t make any comment, but he felt her presence like a hand around his throat.
The harder he tried to pay attention to Jillian, the more he was aware of the tickle of Skye’s hair on his arm when she moved toward the desk, or the slight tingle that shot through him when their fingers touched as he passed the rolled bill to her.
“Wow,” Liam said after their third line. “Emily sounds like the girl who keyed your motorcycle.”
“Yeah,” Remi said. The top of his mouth was going delightfully numb. His heart rate quickened, and he was bobbing his head to the beat of the music coming from downstairs. Euphoria bubbled through his veins.
His thoughts sped up too, but it wasn’t the usual anxious stream that he had to fend off every day. Thoughts of his mother, his dead brother, his broken bargain, his demon—none of that mattered.
A pleasant cloud floated through his brain. He was too zoned into the music, the sound waves that were moving through the air, penetrating the walls, invading his skin, and infiltrating his brain cells.
He didn’t even like this song, but suddenly he wished he had his guitar so he could break down every line, every note. He wanted to turn them inside out and find the secret code the songwriter had baked in to make the song famous. To make hordes of people sing it, dance to it, love it.
Darkness crashed into him and slapped him across the face. Why weren’t his songs good enough for that?
Everything the world thinks you earned is a lie, Emerson said.
“Okay! Okay! One more!” Remi said as he snatched the baggie from Liam’s grip just when he’d started pocketing it.
“Fuck yeah!” Liam encouraged.
Remi bent over the desk and portioned out one more line for each of them.
“You sure that’s a good idea, rock star?” Skye whispered.
“Fuck off, Skye. You aren’t my mother,” he hissed, refusing to meet her eye.
Skye sighed heavily and grabbed the baggie, leaving the room without another word.
“Hey!” Liam called out as she left. “That’s mine!” But he didn’t run after her; the call of the line Remi was doling out was too strong.
“She’s kind of a wet blanket, huh?” Jillian asked.
“She’s just stressed,” Liam said. “Oh damn. I told her I was going to help her with that.”
Remi did his line and the one he’d portioned out for Skye too before letting Liam in.
Jillian hummed. “Looks like she found her own stress release.” She was across the room, staring out the window.
Something sick curled in his stomach. He strode to the window and scanned the scene outside.
People danced and talked and drank around an in-ground pool.
He spotted Skye standing within a crowd.
Her eyes were closed and her hands were above her head as she danced.
A few people tried to touch her, but she just brushed them away and continued dancing on her own.
Remi was a little mesmerized by it. The swing of her hips and the way she was so self-contained. It made something in him ache with desire and longing, but he didn’t know for what. He definitely didn’t want to go down there and dance with her, press his body against hers and feel the way she moved.