one
JACE
The blonde chick cried out as I thrust another two times, before the lackluster rush of my release had me blowing my fucking load. She continued to moan and writhe below me, no doubt hoping I’d make her come too, but I was done.
I made no excuses about who I was these days. They wanted the rock star cock, and they got it, but this dick gave zero fucks about them or their pleasure.
Rolling off her, I found my pants in the next seconds, pulled them on, and headed for the door. She called out after me with a breathy Jace, baby, but I was already done. Finished. Forgotten her damn name.
Had I even asked her name? Probably not. She was a bad choice, anyway. From a glance, she looked too much like her. Billie fucking Bellerose.
Security waited for me outside, one of them handing me a leather jacket, which I shrugged on. I ended up without a shirt more times than not these days, but these guys were well trained. No one said a word as they followed me down to the car that was waiting out front. I’d paid for the whole night, but I never stayed longer than it took me to get off.
I kept my head down as I slid into the backseat of the blacked-out SUV—not wanting to make myself an easy target for the paparazzi constantly following me around—so I didn't realize I had company until the car door closed.
“Don’t fucking start,” I growled, pulling a rolled joint out of the pocket of my jacket. I’d raided Rhett’s stash before he woke up this morning; he was so fucked up these days that he’d never notice.
Grayson gave a long-suffering sigh but said nothing. Yet. He just waited for me to light up, then stole the joint from my lips before I even got a full drag.
“Dick,” I muttered, waiting for him to take a puff before he handed it back.
He exhaled heavily, filling the back of the car with thick, musky weed smoke. “Good shit,” he grunted. “Rhett’s?”
I just tipped my head back, filling my own lungs as my head swirled. I’d been hitting drugs and alcohol harder than usual, but nothing compared to Rhett. Poor bastard was suffering a broken heart. I got it. I’d been there, with the same ruthless bitch.
“Why’re you here, Gray?” I drawled, refocusing on the broad-shouldered fuck beside me.
He leveled me with a hard glare. “I need a reason? I thought we were a band, Jace.”
I scoffed, an ugly sound. “Don’t give me that shit, Gray. Hurricane Billie destroyed us, and you know it.”
His mouth twisted with anger. He’d been more into that temptress bitch than he’d ever let on, but I could recognize it in his eyes every time I said her name. I almost wished she would turn up again, just to see Gray rip her a new asshole.
“Billie isn’t responsible for this,” he said in a low rumble. “Flo is. And Tucker. If they hadn’t—”
“Bullshit,” I spat. “Bullshit. Flo and Tom fucked up by trying to sell her back to the Riccis, but look how it all turned out. She wasn’t abducted, she ran away. Willingly. No one forced her to go, Gray, she left of her own volition. The sooner you two accept it, the better you’ll both be.”
Grayson’s fist balled in his lap, and I got the feeling he’d happily punch me in the teeth right now. I didn’t even care. Maybe it’d be good if he did… make me feel something other than numb.
“How can you be so sure?” he asked softly. “You, of all people—”
“Yeah!” I shouted, sitting up to glare daggers. “Me, of all people. I know her so much better than you, regardless of what seductive stories she sucked you in with. I know you’ve worked it up in your head that her video message was coerced, but you’re fucking delusional. No one forces Billie Bellerose to do anything she doesn’t wanna do.”
Grayson said nothing in response, but his silent disagreement was deafening. Even after Billie had sent a video message specifically telling him to stop looking for her, he couldn’t accept that she wasn’t in some kind of danger.
I’d always known Rhett had a crazy hero complex, but Gray took it to a whole other level. That first week after she’d disappeared, he’d turned into a total stranger. A scary, violent stranger. The only thing that had stopped the insanity was Billie’s message telling him she was fine and to please respect her choice.
Fucking whore.
They couldn’t say I didn’t warn them, though. Either of them. I’d said it from day one—she was toying with them and sooner or later she’d go running back to Angelo. That smug son of a bitch always came out on top.
“The label has been trying to contact you,” Gray said, changing the subject. “Did you call them back?”
I grunted an annoyed sound. “Fuck the label.”
Grayson’s elbow hit my ribs and knocked the air out of my lungs, making me choke on the inhale of smoke I’d just taken. “Screw you, Adams,” he growled. “This band is more than just you. You’re fucking with all our careers while you sulk about the girl who broke your heart eight damn years ago.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re one to talk, asshole.”
“Call head office back, Jace. In case you forgot, we signed contracts and we’re currently in breach.” His expression was impassive. Cold. Closed off. I envied him for that ability.
It irritated me that he was right. Not only had we cut our tour short—right before going international—but we also owed our record label a new album, and right now I had a grand total of fucking nothing to submit.
Trouble was, I also had no desire to write new music. Before Billie reappeared, I’d been struggling with writer's block. I couldn’t keep writing music about her; it’d been too damn long and I was tired. But then she came crashing back into my life, and now every time I picked up a pen, all I could think of was her.
“I’m too fucking sober for this shit,” I grumbled, reaching forward to knock on the privacy glass dividing us from the driver. “Let me out here.”
Gray was two seconds away from smashing my head into the window, I could see it written all over him. Better I remove myself than have to deal with a broken nose.
“Jace, you can’t just keep faking it. Sooner or later, you have to man up and face your damage.”
I scoffed. “That’s where you’re wrong, Gray.” I popped my door open as the car rolled to a stop in front of another busy nightclub and climbed out on slightly wobbly legs. “I’m young, rich, famous, hot. I’m living my best fucking life with no damage left to face. She ran back into the arms of her backstabbing lover, so I’m washing my hands clean.”
Not waiting for his response, I slammed the car door shut and cut the line to the entrance of the club. A bouncer put out a hand to stop me, then within seconds realized who I was and let me in. It was nice being famous sometimes.
Ralph, my bodyguard, shadowed me, like he always did, and I ignored him, like I always did. Gray had gotten under my skin, and I was suddenly too worked up to try and go home. Rhett would be there, wallowing in self-pity, and I couldn’t face that yet.
I’d never regretted sharing a penthouse apartment with my best friend, but damn, it was growing uncomfortable.
My gaze scanned the crowd as I pushed my way over to the bar. I needed a shot of some hard liquor, then probably something stronger. Glancing over my shoulder, I tipped my head to Ralph. “Find me some coke or something,” I ordered him. “Gray fucked my mood right up.”