“Fuck you, too,” I murmur to Reed’s departing frame.
“I’ll catch ya later, guys,” Kendrick says. “I’m gonna get that bottle of Scotch and ask Laila if she wants to—” He gasps. “No! Fuck my life. Nooo!”
“Well, that was fast,” Kai says to his younger brother. And when I follow their mutual gaze, I see Laila in conversation with a good friend of ours—a guy named Cash who plays guitar for another River Records band, Danger Doctor Jones. Cash is in profile to us and standing all the way on the other side of the party, but, even so, it’s clear he’s currently hitting on Laila with everything he’s got.
“Motherfucker,” Kendrick declares.
“You snooze, you lose, baby brother,” Kai says, whacking Kendrick’s broad shoulder.
“It’s probably for the best,” I say, surprising myself. “Now that Laila is our opener, I think we can all agree she’s off-limits.” I’m grasping at straws here. Being a manipulative dick. Because, even as the words leave my mouth, I know I’d fuck Laila raw, to within an inch of her life, whether during the tour or at this party tonight in the nearest bathroom, if given half a chance.
“No, I don’t agree to that,” Kendrick says.
“Come on,” I say, forging ahead with my bullshit. With my testosterone-driven gaslighting. “It’s a weird dynamic, KC. It’s like we’re her boss, sort of. Plus, don’t forget, you’re gonna be stuck with Laila for months. Once things go south between you, which they will, you’ll be stuck hanging around with her for however long. Sounds horrible to me.”
“I’ll risk it.”
Shit.
I glance at Laila again. She’s still talking to Cash across the room. But after a moment, her gaze flickers to mine, and this time, she flashes me an especially murderous glare that sends tingles shooting straight into my dick. In reply, I flash her a look of total impenetrability, letting her know her daggers have no effect on me. That in fact, they’ve bounced right off my steel chest, baby. And she reacts by turning to Cash and smiling at him like she wants to suck his dick. The little vixen. I gotta say, I’m digging it.
“Yo, birthday boy!” I shout to Kendrick, over the music in the room, my gaze finally leaving the bombshell who’s making my blood simmer inside my veins. “I think I’m ready to do that birthday dare now. Let’s do it, brother . . .” I peek at Laila again, making sure she’s still looking, before adding, “Let’s make Reed jealous as shit.”
Four
Savage
Why hasn’t Reed come over here yet? I feel like I’ve been hitting on Georgina pretty damned aggressively for the past five minutes, mere feet away from him. Giving it my best fuckboy effort. And yet, he’s still keeping his distance. Hiding behind his proverbial bush. Is Reed embarrassed to pursue Georgina in front of all these bigwigs, for some reason? Is it because of their age difference? What am I missing? The Reed Rivers I know stops at nothing to get whatever he wants. And there’s no doubt in my mind he wants Georgina.
“That’s so interesting, Savage,” Georgina says. “I’ll definitely want to explore that further during our actual interview. Do you find that songwriting is a cathartic process for you?”
I look at her with so much heat, I feel like a parody of my younger self. My eyes smoldering, I lean in and say, “Wow, that’s a great question, Georgina.” I’m trying to make it sound like I’ve never heard her question before, despite it being pretty standard fare. “Hmm. Yes. Now that you mention it, I think songwriting is a deeply cathartic process for me. I’m not the best at expressing myself, sometimes, in my daily life. Oftentimes, I don’t even know what I think or feel about something. But then, I start writing a song, and my true feelings pour out of me like a confession.”
Georgina gasps and holds up her arm. “Goosebumps!” Her beautiful face aglow, she grabs her phone. “Do you mind if I jot that down? I don’t want to risk you forgetting that wording when it’s time for your actual interview.”
Well, that’s adorable. I’ve said that exact thing at least ten million times in interviews over the past four years. But, obviously, a summer intern for Rock ‘n’ Roll wouldn’t know that. I sneak a peek at my buddies over Georgina’s shoulder to find them red-faced and holding back laughter. Which means Reed, who was standing behind me the last time I checked, must still be there. And not only that, he must look like a volcano about to blow.
I touch Georgina’s hand, signaling she doesn’t need her phone. “No need to write that down. I promise, I’ll remember it during the actual interview.” With the touch of my hand to Georgina’s, I sneak a peek at Laila to my right, hoping she’s still rooted to her spot next to Cash, shooting me daggers. And to my sizzling delight, she is. In fact, if looks could kill, I’d be splattered all over the walls of Reed’s massive living room right now.
Holding back a smile, I return to Georgina, lick my lips like I’ve just devoured her pussy, and brush a lock of dark hair off her shoulder. “So, hey, Georgina, when do you think we should—"
And that’s it. Reed’s seen enough.
“I need to speak with you,” he barks out, appearing out of nowhere at my shoulder like The Flash.
“Can it wait?” I say. “Georgina and I—”
“It can’t wait,” Reed snaps. “Follow me.”
Without waiting for my reply, Reed grips my sleeve and physically drags me across the room and around a corner into a short hallway, leaving Georgina with her hazel eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.
“Reed, come on, man,” I say, smiling broadly at my friends as Reed drags me toward my certain doom. “You’re cock-blocking me.”
Reed’s entire body shudders at my words, but he continues dragging me until we’re away from the party. Once safely outside of Georgina’s sightline, Reed whirls around, his dark eyes aflame, and spits out, “Do not hit on the Rock ‘n’ Roll reporter!”
I shake my arm free of Reed’s vise-like grip. It’s a tragedy Kendrick isn’t here to witness this moment, but, by God, when I recount the story to him later, I want him to be duly impressed with me. Never let it be said I don’t give Birthday Truth or Dare my all.
Leaning my shoulder against the wall, I whine, “But, Reed, she’s hot as hell.”
Reed’s jaw pulses. “She’s hands-off.”
“Who says?”
Reed pauses, his nostrils flaring and his dark eyes on fire. And against all odds, I feel a tiny pang of compassion for the bastard. I don’t know why he’s been stalking Georgina from afar tonight. What dynamic, real or imagined, has kept him from making his intentions clear to the world? Whatever the hell is going on, Reed is clearly flustered in a way I’ve never seen him before.
Reed opens and closes his mouth, searching for his response, before finally blurting—and not convincingly, I might add, “She’s here to do a job, not to get hit on.” When I raise my eyebrows, conveying my skepticism, Reed adds, “I promised her boss nobody would hit on her.”