“At the rate we’re going, we’ll more than fulfill our merch contract.”
“Don’t we always?” Merchandisers have never complained about our performance minimum. We’re at a different venue tonight. Bigger, but just as sold out. “Were you worried?”
Jaeger adjusts his tie. It looks familiar, resembling one of Dad’s. “You blew off cutting the fucking tracks for months.”
Opening the top drawer of the dressing table I’m sitting at, I lift my brows at the joint greeting me. Perfectly rolled and waiting for me to take a hit. “I didn’t blow it off,” I say absently. “I was in fucking rehab.”
“For six months,” he bites out. “What’s happened the past nine?”
I bring the weed to my nose and sniff, my nostrils flaring at the faint scent. “You tell me. Or maybe I should break it down myself?” I search for a lighter or matches, anxious to breathe in the lit fumes. “Three months to ignore me. Three months to consult with Dad. And three months to convince me touring with you fucks under the threat of dismissal was a good fucking idea.”
When I jab the roll into my mouth, Jaeger shoots to his feet, rushes to me, and snatches it away. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he snarls, dangling the thing in front of me. “You really want to fuck up everything for this?”
Georgie’s glazed eyes pop into my head and her plea…”Sloane, please.” She doesn’t know how powerful those words are to me. Rubbing my temples, I sigh. “No.”
“You have to stay fucking clean,” he continues. “Without you, we’ll end up in the poorhouse.”
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, but my immunity to the words isn’t quite as strong as I’d like it to be. “Invest,” I say blandly, placing my hands behind my head and relaxing in my seat, the picture of nonchalance and not-giving-a-fuck. “Divert your interests. Stop living the life now and think about money for the future.”
He shoves the joint in his suit pocket and turns away from me, pacing. Deep down, I believe he’s a good guy, always treating me better than Kiln, even before…her…them. Our mothers, Steffie…and Dietrech.
“For fuckheads who promise me I’m out if I fuck up again, you’re sure dependent on me to earn money.”
“Sloane…”
“Save it,” I say mildly. “I understand you need to bleed my fame dry for when I fuck up or overdose again. Either way I’m out and your pockets are lined.”
My self-indulgence pisses him off. “Be happy you have some value to someone,” he snaps. “Beyond being the engine that keeps the money rolling in, what else are you but a disgrace?”
“How lucky for you I value myself so highly. Your words might give me a complex otherwise.”
With a last, dirty glare, he stalks out. He hasn’t been gone five minutes before there’s a roar beyond my dressing room door. What the fuck’s going on? A fucking fight? Groupies attempting some sexual feat to wow us into having them for the night?
A moment later, my door whooshes open and my breath whooshes from me. Kiln hustles Georgie in. My entire being freezes and then thaws, attempting to comprehend the girl staring at me with those amazing eyes.
She’s…breathtaking and looks like a doll, all made up, her eyes inescapable with the expert makeup she’s wearing. She’s wearing a two piece, sparkling skirt set. It’s bubblegum pink and shows a good portion of her midriff. Her hair is a gorgeous, ebony mass, streaming around her. She stares at my chest, then studies my biceps and tats.
Kiln guides her to me and she beams a smile at me. My dick believes my piece of ass for the evening has arrived. It’s hard as a fucking rock. I have to get rid of this boner. Being onstage with a hard-on isn’t something I like.
“What are you doing here?”
Surprise enters her eyes and I see what I didn’t before. Her huge pupils. She’s high again. Frustrated, I shove her into my dressing room and slam the door shut, glaring at Kiln. He is hovering for a fucking reason.
“What?” I snap.
He laughs bitterly. “The press spotted her, that’s what. You know? Parnell McCall’s spoiled little princess? She’s rarely fucking seen anywhere, so, of course when she is spotted, it’s going to make the news.”
Fuck.
Kiln points in every direction. “They’re staking all the exits out. This is going to be a long fucking night, I swear. The story backstage is bigger than the one onstage.”
“What’s the big deal?”
Kiln’s eyes almost bulge out of his head.
“You’re my bodyguard. Handle it however you need to.”
Kiln stalks out. I turn to find Georgie staring straight ahead at the blank wall. She still doesn’t offer me an answer. I’m fucking pissed and decide to send her away. Who the fuck invited her? I don’t know why her problems have to be mine. I’ll bet if I can figure that out, I’ll be fine.
It goes back to her words the night she met me, and the following night when she dumped the bag of coke down her throat.