10. Hawk
The music thumped, a heavy beat that I could feel in my chest, syncing with my heartbeat and making me feel like I was part of the song.
Or that it was part of me.
Leaning back against the low couch, I surveyed the club as I took a slow sip of my drink, watching the ridiculous scene play out around me.
The guys and I had just finished our show—our third sold-out crowd in the brand-new Colosseum at Ceasars Palace this week—and we were celebrating at some place on the Strip. Lewis had picked it, and I couldn’t be fucked to ask the name. All I cared about was that the drinks were cold and the music wasn’t complete shit.
Rolling my half empty glass around between my palms, I narrowed my eyes at Lewis where he stood across from me, surrounded by a flock of groupies, each vying for his attention. I sneered as they preened for him, their tits pushed up and their pouty lips glossed to a high shine.
Fuckin’ hated the makeup chicks were wearing these days. Their skin was practically orange most of the time, making it so that when they touched me, they left gross brown streaks on my skin and clothes. There were so many chicks with hair bleached to within an inch of its life, eyelashes like tarantula legs, and talons for fingernails, all looking identical and all completely uninteresting to me.
Fake. Everything was so fucking fake in my life; I just didn’t know what the fuck to do anymore.
When the people that surrounded me seemed like they would say anything they thought I wanted to hear, what hope did I have of finding something real?
Swallowing the last of my drink, I jerked my head at Charlie, my bodyguard, and one of the only people I could trust these days. Catching my nod, Charlie signaled to the bottle service girl to head over to fill my glass.
Even though we were in the VIP section, and it was supposed to be ‘exclusive,’ I still had Charlie keep the crowd at bay. I just didn’t have the patience for people lately. Mick was constantly on our case, doing everything he could to get us endorsements and other gigs to keep us in the public eye when more and more all I wanted was to be left alone.
Then there was the label, pushing every button I had to try to wring a new album out of us as soon as possible, not caring one fuckin’ bit that I hated nearly every single song on the last album.
Holy Trinityhad been a joke, a fucking throwaway album because no one wanted to wait for me to write a new one organically. Good music took time. It took emotion and creativity and that wasn’t something people could rush. When we wrote Take Flight, we were young and idealistic, angry at the world and hungry for success. We had fire in our guts and we let it burn.
Those songs were real, raw, and authentic Black Kite music. They were our souls on a platter and that was why people loved them.
It was hard to write an album about something real when you’re surrounded by liars and sycophants.
The bottle girl swayed over to me on long legs, the tiny top that was her work uniform barely came up high enough to cover her nipples, but I wasn’t complaining. Even if I didn’t want any company tonight, I still enjoyed a look now and then.
“Hawk,” she cooed, her attempt at seduction losing some of its appeal due to the fact that she had to shout to be heard over the music. “I heard it was a great show tonight,” she went on, leaning way over and flashing me even more of her cleavage. “Las Vegas is lucky to have you.”
“Thanks,” I deadpanned.
It was a fucking terrible show. Lewis had been behind all night, and Alex had missed his cue on two separate occasions. Add to that the fact that I could barely bring myself to say the words to those hated songs, never mind sing them with any kind of passion, and it was a recipe for disaster.
People didn’t seem to mind, though. They appeared happy to be fed the commercialized bullshit the label insisted we put out, so who the hell was I to tell them they were wrong?
I watched as she filled my glass, licking her lips as she blinked at me in what I was certain she thought was a sexy way.
It wasn’t.
“So,” she said, standing and cocking one hip out in a practiced pose. “Do you ever do any private shows? I’d love for you to sing just for me. Maybe later we can—”
“No,” I barked, startling the smile right off her face. “Now, kindly fuck off.” She gaped at me, appearing shocked that I hadn’t immediately unzipped my pants and let her fall on my dick. Turning, she started to walk away when I called her back, grimacing at the pathetic look of hope on her face. “Leave the bottle,” was all I said.
I was two more drinks in, still watching Lewis make a fool of himself, when the couch beside me dipped and the scent of expensive perfume wafted across me.
“Looking lonely over here, Hawk,” Victoria said, leaning against me. “I thought you might want some company.”
“If I wanted some company, I would have had some.”
“Yes,” she agreed, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “I have been watching you all night, making poor little waitresses cry with your mean words.”
I snorted. “If they want flowery words, they should stick with Lewis.” I lifted my glass in my bass player’s direction. “That guy will say anything to get his dick wet.”
Tori hummed her agreement, lifting her glass to her lips, but when I looked over, she was staring at me.
She and I had been dancing around each other for years now, playing a game that we both knew would likely blow up in our faces. Tori was the kind of girl that you fucked, but not the kind you kept. She was too high maintenance, too self-absorbed.
Too much like me. Her and I together would be explosive, but the kind of explosive that would level a city block.
But looking at her right now, her red hair tied up in a sleek ponytail and her legs stretched out beside mine, I was starting to think it just might be worth it.
Mick would tell me I was being an idiot. He’d remind me just what was at stake and how I should think with my head and not my dick.
But the way that Lewis was staring at her, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched while he choked on the fact that she was, once again, beside me and not him, I knew that I was willing to risk it all.
Because Lewis had been behind the music all fucking night, missing sound check and sleeping through sessions and band meetings. He wanted to fuck us over? Well, fine then.
Tonight, he could watch me fuck his girl.
Curling my lip, I smirked at him, letting him see when I laid my hand on Tori’s thigh, sliding it slowly up and under her short dress. I could hear her indrawn breath, the fact that I was finally giving in as much of a surprise to her as it was to me.
“We doin’ this?” I asked plainly, not wanting her to think this was more than what it was.
She was hot. I wanted to fuck her.
I wanted to fuck Lewis over.
The stars were aligning for her tonight, and she didn’t even know it.
“Yeah,” she breathed, her eyes wide as she licked her lips. “Where?”
Glancing around the room, I spotted a short hallway that led to the VIP bathrooms. I’d been down there an hour ago to take a leak, and I knew it had a shadowed section at the far end where one of the light bulbs was burnt out.
It would do.
“Follow me,” I said, standing. I started for the hallway, then paused, catching Lewis’s eye again as I reached for Tori’s hand, drawing her close and letting him know just what was happening. Then I laughed when he scowled.
Fuck that guy.
Dragging Tori along, faster than her heels were probably comfortable with but not really giving a shit, I kept moving until I reached the darkened hallway, spinning her around and pushing her against the wall where she landed with a thud and a needy groan.
Dirty bitch.
Shoving my knee between her legs, I drew my hand up her thigh, hiking the dress up higher as I went, shaking my head when I realized she’d already removed her panties at some point. The woman was confident, that was for sure.
Victoria leaned forward, her mouth parted as she tried to kiss me, but I turned my head, giving her my cheek instead. She tried again, reaching for my face and trying to pull my lips to hers, but I grabbed her wrist and shook my head. She pouted, but I didn’t give a fuck.
Kissing was not happening. Never did.
She could deal with it, or she could fuck off.
Watching her think about it, I could see she was considering how hard she wanted to fight me on it. But it was a line I wouldn’t cross. Kissing was a thousand times more intimate than fucking, and I wasn’t about to break my rule in the back hall of a seedy Las Vegas nightclub just because her daddy was Cornelius Castor.
Finally, Tori decided she wanted my dick more than she wanted to fight, so she gave a tight nod and reached for my jeans. While she worked my pants open, I reached into my wallet and grabbed a condom.
She may have been a classy rich girl and not a groupie, but I still wasn’t about to take any chances.
Rich bitches could be sneaky, too.
Once I was suited up, I didn’t waste any time, lifting Tori’s leg and thrusting inside her in one hard stroke. Throwing her head back, she let out a rough scream, and I placed one hand over her mouth to shut her up.
“This what you wanted, Tori?” I snarled, staring into her surprised eyes. “This is why you’ve been panting after me all these years, isn’t it?” She shook her head, trying to deny it, but I just thrust harder, calling her a liar with my body. “Feels good? Feels like you won? Like you’re sticking it to your daddy, fucking the bad boy he warned you about?” I could see her eyes watering, but whether it was from my rough handling of her body or my rough words, I didn’t know.
Didn’t really care, either.
Picking up my pace, I drove into her over and over, knowing she wasn’t ready, that she wasn’t going to come, but that was her problem, not mine.
Gritting my teeth, I thrust one more time, going so hard and deep that I could feel Victoria’s other foot leave the ground, and I groaned loudly, filling the condom and dropping my head to the wall behind her as I released her mouth and listened to her harsh breaths.
I felt like shit.
That was supposed to have felt good, like revenge or vengeance, or something. But instead, I just felt even worse than I had before I’d dragged Tori down this stupid hallway.
Because even my attempt at evening the score with Lewis felt fake.
My retribution had been more of a reckoning, and I was the one found lacking.
Footsteps behind me had Tori stiffening beneath me, and when I pulled back, I watched as she quickly wiped away a tear and tugged down her dress.
“You’re such an asshole, Hawk,” she barked before hurrying away.
I removed the condom and pocketed it, zipping my pants as I turned, coming face to face with a furious Lewis.
“You son of a bitch,” he snarled lowly.
“What?” I asked, feigning casual. “Don’t be mad at me. She’d been begging for it for years. Figured it was time to finally give it to her.”
He swung for me, and I didn’t even move as his punch landed solidly on my face, my cheekbone lighting up with pain I more than deserved.
Staring at him, I smirked as he shook out his hand.
“That’s your one free shot, Lewis. Get your shit together.”
Ignoring his growled reply, I pushed past him and signaled to Charlie that it was time to go. I let him lead me out of the VIP and through the club, pushing out onto the Strip where a massive crowd of paparazzi greeted me, shouting and hollering at me like a pack of rabid animals.
“Hawk! Is it true you’re leaving the band?”
“Are you and Alex really secret lovers?”
“Hawk! How long until you’re back in rehab?”
That one hurt. I’d done a short stint a year ago for a minor coke habit that Mick was convinced was more of a problem than a party. Thirty days in a cushy facility to make the label happy.
No big deal, and certainly no need for a repeat.
“Hawk, how come you’ve abandoned your mother and are letting her live in poverty?”
I froze, my steps halting halfway to the SUV that Charlie had been hustling me into.
“The fuck did you just say?” I asked, rounding on the fucking pap who had dared speak those words.
“Your mom is living in squalor while you party it up here in Vegas. How come you’ve abandoned the woman who gave you life?”
I didn’t even think. I just balled my fist and let it fly, smashing it into the smug face of the photographer who should have known better.
Suddenly, cameras were flashing everywhere, the crush of bodies all trying to get a shot of me, standing over the cameraman who was now in a heap on the sidewalk, blood pouring from his crushed nose.
“Don’t you ever speak about my mother!” I shouted, wanting to be heard over the roar of the crowd.
The photographer lifted one hand and wiped at his face, smiling when he saw the blood and holding it up to ensure everyone got a good photo.
“Thanks, Hawk,” he said lightly, grinning at me as he slowly stood. “That little stunt just put my kids through college. I’ll see you in court, you punk-ass bitch.”
With that, he strolled away, disappearing into the crowd before I could get in another word.