Her neck is red and it’s starting to creep up to her ears. “No. We’re not talking to him.” She turns for the bunks. “I’m going to bed.”
The rush of blood through my ears is so loud I can’t hear anything else. What if this was my only chance to do Lilah’s music?
I flop onto the couch and yank my hair, trying to think of ways to talk her down. But as my blood pressure settles and my mind stops spinning, I remember that this is Billie’s gig. She knows this business. She’s always had my back. I trust her, and she obviously doesn’t trust this Freddie guy.
If Billie’s this adamant, maybe I’m the one who’s wrong. Maybe this guy was too good to be true after all.
Have I gotten soft, trusting too easily? Because I trusted Tro on this without even questioning it. I trusted Freddie to be honest and true to his word and I’ve never even met the guy.
Billie said way back at the start of the tour that I needed to grow a thick skin, and Tro basically said everyone in this business is out to fuck each other.
If I’m going to survive out here, I need to toughen up. And that means trusting no one.
Chapter 17
Tro
I’m fucking juiced. The notes that Lucky and I were working on cycle through my head all the way back to the hotel. It’s that feeling I have when I’m onto something. What we’ve got so far is seriously good, but for the first time, I’m not convinced the electricity playing under my skin and running through my veins is because of the music.
Because the high from spending an hour one on one with Lucky is more intense than anything I’ve ever gotten from booze or drugs, and way the fuck more addictive.
I’m still in the fucking ozone when I walk into the suite. The party’s lower key tonight, the standard guys and just a handful of girls. Jamie’s speakers are playing and he’s dancing slow and making out with a girl who’s standing on the coffee table, which brings them to just about the same height.
“Dude!” he says when he sees me. “Where the fuck you been?”
I cross toward my bedroom. “Just hung back at the arena to work on some shit.”
Grim scowls up at me from the couch as I pass. “Let me guess—you were with the mutt.”
My feet stall and there’s a second I can’t even process what he means, but then it slams into me. How did I never see that Grim was such a fucking bigot?
Blood rises in my face as I turn to face him. “Her name is Shiloh,” I say, realizing that may be the first time I’ve ever used her actual name.
He blows out a disgusted laugh. “Call her whatever you want, she’s nothing but tight, calico *,” he says, grabbing the crotch of the girl sitting next to him. “At least tell me you’re hitting that. Because otherwise, you’re just fucking babysitting.”
All I can think about is smashing his ugly face with my fists. I can’t see past that image to find fucking words.
Jamie must see it in my eyes, because he’s off his girl in a flash and has a handful of my T-shirt. He glares down at Grim. “Let’s just back the fucking train up here for a sec.”
Grim looks like he’s going to rise to the fight, but after a minute of stare down, he just gives his head a disgusted shake. “You need to pull your fucking head out of your ass and remember what you’re here for.”
He shoves the girl at his side off and stands, then slams through his bedroom door.
“What the fuck is up his ass?” I ask Jamie, pissed that fucking Grim killed my buzz.
He lets my shirt go and looks at where Grim just vanished with a shrug. “It’s fucking Grim. Could be anything.”
I give his chest a shove. “That shit you did tonight on the bridge of “Insane” was seriously fucking animal. You should do that every night.”
A grin eats his entire face. “It fucking just came to me. That was crazy, right?”
I smile back. “That’s why you’re the best.”
He claps my back as I head past him into my room. When I get there, I close the door and drop onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to find my Lucky buzz again.
#
Over the last week and a half, I’ve been finding more and more reasons not to be in the hotel suite with Grim. And most of those reasons are Lucky.
Which is exactly Grim’s issue. I don’t know why he hates her, but he takes every opportunity he can to make sure I know it. And tonight, he made sure she does too.
We’re in Atlanta, our last stop before we wrap up our North American tour in Miami two days from now. Which means I only have two days left with Lucky, and I’m not going to squander a minute.
I haven’t missed any of Lucky’s shows since L.A., and tonight I was standing in the wings, waiting, when they wrapped their final set and she came off stage. She smiled and came over when she saw me. I fist bumped her. “You broke them,” I said with a grin, indicating the rabid crowd, still cheering her. “Not sure they’ll even stay for Roadkill now.”