Chapter 24
IF YOU’RE A GOOD BOY
JOEY
Forever Overdose by Amira Elfkey
The rideshare drops us at a nondescript warehouse entrance in Echo Park. There’s no sign, no velvet rope, and nothing to suggest that it’s a club except for the bass-heavy pulse bleeding through the walls.
Jesse’s already out of the car before it fully stops and I stumble after him, laughing. “Jesse, slow down.”
“Shit, sorry.” He flashes me a grin over his shoulder and holds his hand out for me. “So, fair warning, ignore about ninety percent of what Tommy says.”
“Ninety percent?” I pull him to a stop and he turns around, placing his hands on my hips.
“I’m being generous.”
I hook my fingers in his belt loops and pull him so his chest is flush with mine. I raise up on my toes to kiss him. “For the record, I’m not sharing you tonight.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good.” I smooth down his collar, letting my fingers linger. “Because you look way too good and I don’t trust anyone in there.”
I giggle as we make our way inside. The performance high hasn’t faded, if anything, it’s intensified, turning him into a live wire I can barely keep up with. This version of Jesse is new to me. Unguarded and vibrating with a joy he can’t contain.
Inside, strobing lights slice the space into fragments. Bodies move in liquid rhythm, the gleam of glitter on bare shoulders.
Jesse navigates the crowd, one hand locked around mine as he weaves us through the press of bodies. I hold tight, letting him pull me in his wake, watching the way he moves, confident, purposeful, alive in a way I’ve never witnessed.
We find the others in a roped-off section near the rear. In the corner of the sectional, Luke has his mouth fused to a dark-haired man in a fitted black t-shirt, the two of them completely oblivious to anything else in the room.
“Finally!” Tommy’s on his feet immediately, clapping Jesse on the back and then nodding at me. “What took you so long? We’re three rounds ahead.”
“It took forever to get the paint off my chest,” Jesse says, which is mostly true.
“Oh, I see.” Tommy’s grin turns wicked. “Must be nice having someone willing to loofah your chest,” he implies, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
“Tragic that you don’t,” Jesse says, moving him out of the way so we can take a seat.
“I asked Sugar Tits for the privilege and was cruelly denied.” Tommy clutches his chest in mock heartbreak.
“I’d rather scrub a toilet,” Stella says, blinking at him innocently.
She’s striking in a way that demands attention without asking for it.
Platinum blonde hair tumbles around her shoulders in waves.
A cropped band t-shirt exposes a strip of toned stomach above leather pants that absolutely work on her.
Silver rings stack up both ears, a delicate chain glints at her collarbone, and her eyes are dark brown, sharp as broken glass, and miss nothing as she takes me in.
She’s the kind of girl who walks into a room and owns it before she says a word.
“Finally, another girl in this testosterone nightmare. I’ve been outnumbered for way too long.” She tugs me down beside her, leaving Jesse standing with a bemused expression.
“Stella doesn’t bite,” Jesse says.
“It’s true. Although I’m not much of a hugger.” She crosses her leg, facing me, and then orders Jesse to get me a drink.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Soda’s fine,” I add, and Jesse nods before heading toward the bar with Tommy.
I glance toward the corner where Luke has extricated himself from his friend long enough to greet me. “This is Mateo.”
He has dark curls, an easy smile, and dimples. I lean forward to shake his hand, covered in fashionable rings. “How did you two meet?” I ask.
“Nepo baby like Dylan, but prettier,” Luke says, slipping an arm around his shoulder.
“Don’t mind Luke,” Stella says, catching my glance. “He can’t seem to keep his mouth off his latest snack.”
Luke glares at her before turning back to Mateo.
Stella laughs. “So Jesse says you work with horses.”
I’m caught off guard. I didn’t realize Jesse would talk to his band about me.
“I run a rescue ranch with my parents. Rehabilitating traumatized horses, mostly. Teaching them to trust people again.”
Stella leans forward, genuinely interested. “That’s badass. What does that even involve?”
“Patience, mostly, and consistency. I show up every day, same time, same energy. I don’t push them past what they can handle.
Eventually they realize I’m safe.” I shrug.
“Most have been through real trauma. Neglect, abuse. It can take months before some of them will even let you touch them, let alone ride them.”
Stella’s expression softens. “That sounds kind of beautiful, actually.”
“It is.” I relax.
Stella nods slowly. “I can see why he’s so gone for you.”
I glance toward the bar where Tommy is gesturing wildly, and Jesse’s pretending to pay attention. Instead, he’s staring at me, and everything else feels like static.
“I have to admit I was a little wary about coming tonight,” I say.
“I’m sure Jesse warned you about Tommy, but you just have to ignore him, he’s like a little lamb,” she looks over at him with a smile and we watch as Tommy tries to do a dance move and Jesse motions to cut it out. “Well… in lamb’s clothing.”
We dissolve into laughter.
“That’s not what I meant though,” I tell her.
“I know. Sometimes it’s hard being a woman in rock ‘n’ roll,” she says. “People don’t always take me seriously.”
“You’re a hell of a bass player.”
She smiles. “The mask puts me on an even playing field. They don’t see all of this.” She gestures to her body. “They just hear the music.”
I lay my arm along the back of the sectional and lean my cheek against it. “You sound like Jesse.”
“Better than sounding like Tommy,” she giggles.
Stella takes a sip of her drink and shifts on the sectional, tucking one leg underneath her. Her gaze drifts down and she tips her bottle toward my feet.
“By the way.” Stella looks down. “Nice kicks.”
I stick out my foot, wiggling my boots. “Comfortable, and me.”
Stella does the same with her high heels. “Not comfortable, but they look damn good.”
“So…” I tip my chin toward Tommy. “What’s with you two? Are you a thing?”
There’s definitely some sexual tension buzzing between them.
“Oh God, no.” Stella laughs. “Absolutely not.” But she doesn’t sound convincing.
“You guys seem to have this easy way with each other.”
“Tommy has an easy way with everyone.” Stella picks at the label on her bottle. “He likes the chase. The second I let him catch me, he’d be on to the next girl so fast my head would spin.”
“I don’t know about that.” I watch Tommy at the bar, the way his attention keeps drifting toward Stella even while he’s mid-conversation with Jesse. “He seems pretty into you.”
“Oh, he’s definitely a smitten kitten,” she laughs.
She stares at Tommy across the room, and for a second, the sharp edges soften into something vulnerable. He’s miming something ridiculous now, hips involved, and Jesse has his face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking.
“I don’t want to mess up the band dynamics, you know?” She sets her bottle down. “We’ve got a good thing going. Why risk it?”
“I don’t know, some things are worth the risk, aren’t they?”
“Ask me again after a few more drinks.”
Jesse returns with drinks—a Coke for me, water for himself —and slides onto the sectional beside me.
Tommy trails behind and hands one of the drinks to Stella.
As he sits, Stella’s jacket slips off the arm of the sectional and Tommy catches it mid-fall, tucking it back into place before picking up his conversation without missing a beat.
“To never having to play another shithole warehouse that smells like piss and spilled beer,” Tommy declares, raising his glass and downing whatever was in it.
I set my Coke down and rise, holding out my hand to Jesse. “Dance with me.”
He takes my hand and lets me pull him toward the dance floor, the carefree grin returning as we leave the VIP section behind.
Behind us, I hear Stella’s voice cut through the noise. “Alright. You. Me. Now.” A pause. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I would never,” Tommy protests.
They disappear into the crowd, Stella’s hand still wrapped around Tommy’s wrist, and I catch the exact moment she releases him, only for his hands to find her waist like they belong there.
The bass drops and the room dissolves. Everything beyond Jesse’s hands goes hazy, dreamlike, the strobes turning the crowd into shadows that pulse and blur at the edges.
Jesse pulls me against him and I go willingly, his hands settling low on my waist as the beat carries us somewhere instinctive.
He moves like the music is part of him, and when his mouth finds the curve of my neck, I forget there’s anyone else in the room.
The lights wash everything in color—violet, crimson, blue—and the music is so heavy it vibrates through my chest, turns my heartbeat into something that belongs to the room instead of me.
I close my eyes and let it take me under.
The whole world narrows to the warmth of his body and the thrum of the bass beneath my skin, and I stop trying to hold on to anything except him.
Through the strobe-lit gaps in the crowd, I catch a glimpse of Stella and Tommy. They’re closer than they were in the booth. His hands rest low on her hips, her head tipped against his shoulder, eyes closed. It doesn’t resemble anything casual.
A few feet beyond them, Luke and Mateo sway in their own orbit, Mateo’s arms draped around Luke’s neck while Luke mouths something against his temple that makes him smile.
I press closer to Jesse, letting the rhythm carry us.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” I say against his ear.
He tips his head, still moving. “Like what?”
“Free.” I slide my hands up his chest. “I had to practically drag you onto the kitchen island with me.”