I send him a warning: back the fuck off. If he wants to act like an ass, do it with me. Leave Georgie the fuck alone.
“I just can’t and since Sloane isn’t sleeping with me, I need something.” Unintimidated by Quint, she scowls at him. “My parents don’t care if I drink or not. Cassandra and Parnell McCall have very lax rules.”
Kiln’s eyes widen. It must’ve just dawned on him exactly who this is. The girl I’ve had him check on every fucking day. The girl whose mother came to my fucking concert in her place.
He moves to the other guys and whispers something to them. They know. He’s told them. Not that I give a fuck, but I wonder if this works for or against me.
“My room is through that door.” I nod to my right. “Go and get settled. I’ll order room service and have champagne sent up.” I’m conceding a bit because she’s breaking my heart. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“What would you like to do for the evening?”
“Do you want to watch The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly? It’s your favorite movie.”
Each time she tells me what I enjoy, she shows her age. I hope she fills me in all night to keep the reminder at the forefront of my head. I smile and head to the bar myself. “Okay, although I don’t know where I can find a John Wayne movie on such short notice.” I shrug and reconsider. “Netflix, I guess.”
Her face crumples. “It’s a Clint Eastwood movie.” Color sweeps through her skin and I almost drop to my knees to worship her beauty. “You’ve never seen the movie, have you?”
“Sorry, no, sweetheart,” I say gently. I grab the scotch and fill a highball glass, downing half the contents.
Her phone rings, discernible because none of us have one of our songs as a ringtone. She pulls it from her bag and answers, her eyes darting between me and floor.
I immediately identify who the fuck it is even before she whispers, “Not now, Crowell.”
She listens a moment longer, then giggles and turns her back on us. Her hair flows to an ass that’s round and perfect. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting her.
“What about Lana?” Suspicion laces her words and I fucking know the asshole is handing her some type of bullshit. “No,” she says. The stubborn note in her voice is laudable. “I don’t care if no one knows. You can’t have her and me.” When she turns and starts to pace, her face is a study of frustration. “I know, so you don’t have to keep fucking telling me!” A huff of breath and a roll of her eyes before she relents. “Yeah, fine. I’ll let you know a good time for us to meet.”
She disconnects and I down the rest of my alcohol. Deep in thought, she chews on her lower lip as I pour myself another drink. “Leave Crowell alone,” I order.
“He’s my friend,” she says with a sigh and rubs her forehead. “Like I thought all of you were to each other, but there’s not been two good sentences spoken between all of you. No wonder your music is shit suddenly. I couldn’t work with my enemies either.”
Adam goes to her and they regard each other without flinching. He’s always the thinker. If someone makes a valid point, he gets closer to pick apart their brain. It’s his way of figuring shit out. “Whatever we’re going through is of no concern of yours.” His resentful tone shouldn’t be surprising. I’m shocked we haven’t tried to kill each other after our conversation with Dad. He allowed me to score that round, but it does little good since he keeps us over a fucking barrel.
I’m pretty fucking sure he wants one of us to take out the other. If Kiln does me, then Dad will have the perfect excuse not to include him in the will. If I take out Kiln, then I go to jail.
What happens with Jaeger, I’m not fucking sure. He might be the luckiest motherfucker on earth and end up with the windfall since his two little brothers are such hotheads.
“As a fan who spends her money on your music, it most certainly is a concern of mine,” she retorts.
“Go to my room and freshen up, Georgie. By the time you’re finished, I’ll have things settled.”
Obediently, she listens and I face the other four.
“You’re out of your fucking mind. If the press catches her up here, we’ll be accused of all kinds of fucked up behavior,” Maitland snarls, right in my face.
I shove him away, daring him, with one look, to fuck with me again. “You’re leaving, so your reputation won’t suffer.”
“When we leave, she’s getting the fuck out, too,” Quint decrees.
“No. If she leaves, she’ll call her asshole drug-supplying boyfriend and get high as the fucking moon. She stays with me.”
Incredulity meets my words.
“Is she moving in with you? Because, Sloane, that’s the only fucking way you’ll keep her from whatever you’re trying to save her from.” Adam is tense and pins me with a look. “It’s best she fuck herself up with some teenage fuck than to—“
“He isn’t a teenage fuck,” I growl. “He’s around our age.”