Hard Rock Roots Box Set (69 page)

“Fuck, you have nice tits,” is all he's got for a reply. I reach up with my free hand and let them loose, watching as they bounce around while my vision blurs and the pressure in the base of my spine builds. Just as I see the two security guards swing around the corner, I loose it, screaming my head off as I come hard, blinded to everything but the pleasure amassing between my legs. The explosion is intense, muscles contracting, hands scrabbling at the car's hood.

Ronnie's grip tightens even more and he slams in with a few last good thrusts before groaning and collapsing on top of me, dark hair stuck all over his sweaty neck and face. His expression is just freaking precious, like he's run a marathon and inherited a million bucks all in the same day. I hug him to my chest as the two security officers, both men and probably both pervy as hell, pause a few feet away and exchange a glance.

I smile at them, and I try not to be too nasty about it.

“Is that your car?” one of them asks, and I push out my lower lip, shaking my head.

“No,” I say as Ronnie sits up reluctantly, untangling himself from my arms. He pulls his cock out with a groan and snaps the condom off. “But you boys sure did miss out on a fuck of a show.”

I slide down the hood and land on my feet, pulling my pants up while Ronnie does his. He looks around for a second and tosses the full condom onto the hood of the Benz.

“Hey, we're both rock stars, right?” he says, and I grin while he licks my juice off his fingers, giving the guards a raised brow and a smirk. He puts his arm around my waist as I fix my tits, putting them back where they belong and leaning over to grab my jacket. “If there's any damage to the car,” Ronnie says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a condom with an Indecency logo on the wrapper. “Bill me.” He throws it onto the hood next to the used one and off through the parking garage we go.

When I climb into the van a few minutes later, I find Cohen in the backseat with Hayden Lee. Nobody else in the band seems surprised that she's there. She must've gotten in while I was working on my “mission” with Ronnie.

“Hope you at least sucked him off this time,” Cohen says as I slip into the center row of seats and glare at him in the rearview mirror. At least he looks like shit still. Two black eyes, a swollen nose, split lip. Ronnie really did a number on his hideous fucking face.
Scummy germ leech cock sucking budgie fucker.
I keep my notes to myself, draping my arms over the back of the seat. I feel
so
good right now. It'd be hard as hell to rain on my parade; Cohen, bless his rancid little heart, tries his best. “Lord knows that's where your one talent lies. Certainly not much of a drummer.” He snorts and Hayden giggles. I wonder why she's playing with him. She doesn't like him anymore than I do. This is all one big game to her.

“Oh, I did more than just suck him off,” I say, watching in the mirror as Cohen's face twists into a real nasty expression, like he's just got a gerbil shoved up his ass or something. Honesty, Joel, and our guitarist, Chris, keep to themselves. As usual. KK turns around in her seat to stare at me, eyes like soggy baseballs jammed into her flat skull. “I gave him a big, wet slice of Lola-land.” I lift my ass off the seat and give it a little slap. KK frowns.

“As soon as we get to the hotel, I want you in his room. Tyler thinks it's important that you're with him when he finds out about Shannon.”

The smile slides off my face.

My time with Ronnie almost made me forget my complete and utter failure as a human being. A young mother is dead because I didn't have the guts to speak up. I look down at the floor and try to focus on how good my body feels, on that dirty, sexy, angry pulse from below that's begging for another go.
Calm ya tits, Lola. Just relax and think about something else right now. You can't dwell on Shannon or Chelsea, but you can save Eve. And Maria. Don't think about Marta either. Don't you dare!

I snap my head up before KK can register any sense of discomfort and pass it onto Mr. Rutledge. She reports
everything
to him, so I still can't be positive my tight-lipped smile won't be on her list of concerns, but I've got to do my best to keep her observations to a minimum.
Sir, I think Lola's on the rag. Sir, I think she's got stomach upset. Sir, can I lick your balls and suck on your taint?
Stupid bitch.

“So, Hayden,” I begin, looking up into the rearview mirror and finding the ho with her legs spread wide and her snatch on display.
Cover ya sash ya fuckhead.
She's got on a black mini and no panties, a pink tee (pre-ripped, of course), and black lace wrist warmers. Hayden thinks she's such hot shit, but her voice isn't much better than Naomi Knox's, and everyone knows that she doesn't write any of the songs. In all reality, she's expendable. Probably why she so readily jump into Tyler's lap and became his pet dog. And now, instead of being my second target, she's sitting here smelling up the van with her fishy crotch. “What brings you here? I thought Amatory Riot was staying in Oklahoma City.”

Hayden smiles, but it's not a nice expression. Kind of makes her look constipated, really.

“They are,” she says, voice sickly sweet, blue eyes sparkling. “But Tyler thought I deserved a day out, so he drove me here himself. He thinks I have the
it
factor. After all of this crap is over, he wants me to try a solo career. Under his guidance, of course.”

“Of course,” I say, mimicking her accent as best I can. It's not difficult. I just try to imagine what I'd sound like if I'd grown up convinced I crapped diamonds. Hayden either doesn't care that I'm making fun of her or doesn't get it. I'm guessing the latter.

“Besides, you try spending the day with Naomi latched onto your ass like a Goddamn tick ready to pop. She doesn't trust me anymore.” Hayden stops talking and her voice changes, not a lot, just enough that I know she's upset about something.
Look, the little skank has emotions. Who knew?
“Dax either.” She sighs and swipes some brunette hair over her shoulder. “We're just lucky they haven't told anyone else what they know. If they had, this would all be over, and most of us,” Hayden meets my eyes in the mirror, any emotion I thought I might've seen wiped clean from her face. “Would be sitting in jail.”

Nobody responds to that, and I wonder if they're mourning inside for what they've done, or if I'm the only one. There's nobody on that bus I trust enough to ask. I use to really care about these people, believe that together, we could work through anything. Now, I feel like I don't even know them. Whatever light was in them has been eclipsed by darkness. Tyler made sure of that. I wonder briefly what might've happened if we'd never taken that meeting with him, never agreed to sell our souls for a shot at fame. I mean, we were just starstruck. Who wouldn't be, going from shows at the county fair to a full country circuit tour with one of the most promising new stars of the rock scene? I wish I'd known then what it felt like to have blood on my hands. I'd have told Tyler to go fuck a duck and gotten the hell out of there.

Certain mistakes are impossible to rectify, but sometimes, if you try hard enough, you can put enough good out into the world that it doesn't matter so much anymore. Two wrong deeds don't make a right, but two fucking awesome ones sure do help.

Chapter 11
Ronnie McGuire

When we roll into OKC, we don't stop at the original hotel. As I hold Lydia's sleeping body against my chest, I listen to him talk about the security breach that happened today, about how a group of girls got into the stairwell and attacked a cop. Hard to believe anyone would go that far to meet a rock star, but I guess there's a couple spoiled grapes in every bunch.

Our new hotel isn't much farther away, but by the time we get there, all of my bandmates are asleep with the exception of Trey. He's been staring at his phone for hours, absorbed in something I hope has nothing to do with this mess. I still feel like we should include at least him in our conversations. After all, Hayden said every single one of us was a possible target. If whoever's behind this is willing to kill innocent women to get at us, there's no telling what else they'll do.

I stroke Lydia's curls and think about all the shitty things that happened today, about the fight and the crowds that won't stop growing, like they're fucking cancer or some shit. Obviously, I'm a horrible father. I don't want to be. I want Lydia to grow up knowing I care about her, and I want her to care about me, too, respect me. How can I ask that from her if I don't even respect myself? I've got to work through this shit and figure out where Indecency is going career wise. Far as I'm concerned, we are a fucking family. I need these men in my life no matter what. Couldn't raise a fuckin' kid without 'em. At the same time, I can't take her with me. I can't have a child on tour. Even if there wasn't excessive drug use, drinking, swearing, fucking, fighting, and the occasional murder, it wouldn't be right. We travel too much and there's not a lot of room on the buses. The road is hard, and when I've got a show, I can't look after her at all. Leaving Lydia with a roadie is not an option and Milo's too busy to play babysitter.

As far as I'm concerned, this leaves me with one option: I have to call my parents.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight and try to remember to breathe.
Asuka, help me, please.
My parents always liked her. It was one of the few things in life we agreed on. After she died … there just wasn't anything else for us to talk about. I wonder if they'd like Lola? My heart pumps heavy in my chest and makes me dizzy.

Lola Saints.

Wow. Just wow. Mind blowing sex, a smart mouth, and killer kit skills all wrapped up in a hot, little package. Sounds like a dream come true. I can't wait to see her again. Fuck, by the time we pull into the parking lot of the hotel, I'm half-crazy for it. Three hours later and it feels like days.

“Up and at 'em boys, let's go,” Milo says, rousing the groaning bodies around me. Turner kicks the back of his seat and tells him to screw off, but nobody's paying him any attention except the medic. Yep. Brought him back in our van, too. I glance out the window and am pleasantly surprised to find that there's not one asshole paparazzi here with his soul stealing camera, getting ready to capitalize on our pain. I don't know that I'd hold back in handing some fucker his ass long with broken equipment. If the shirt has to come off, then so be it. My name is Ronnie McGuire, and I am not afraid to hold a shirtless ass kicking. Take it off at your own risk.

The driver slides the door open for me, and I climb out, Lydia clinging to me like a fucking koala bear, tiny hands tangled up in my shirt. I pause for a moment in the cool night air, closing my eyes and pressing my hand to the back of her head. It's hard for me to process how I feel inside, how conflicted my emotions are. In a way, I'm glad she's here because it means we're going to have a future together that I never saw coming. On the other hand, the only reason she's here is because I am who I am. Now, I can't help the fact that some psycho fuck with too much time and a room in his mother's basement decided to come crawling after us, but I could've spared Chelsea Stark her fate. If I'd been true to Asuka all these years, Chelsea would still be alive.
But then you wouldn't have Lydia.

I sigh and flip a silent finger to the sky.

“Fuck you, fate,” I whisper and jump when a voice cuts in from beside me.

“Careful there,” Lola says, leaning back against the side of the van. She's smiling at me, but her face is back to that same state it was before we had sex – confused, scared, upset. She's doing a good job trying to hide it, but I'm the King of Crap and I recognize a bullshit smile when I see one. “You piss her off enough, and she'll screw you over.” Lola gets out a cigarette and lights up.

“Eh, no worries,” I say, glancing up at the moon. It looks so different out here than it does back home, like it's not ashamed to show its face. I can see all these little imperfections on the surface tonight, freckles on the face of the moon or some romantic shit like that. “Fate and I are already pretty well acquainted. She killed my girlfriend in a car accident when she was on her way to one of my first major gigs.” I brush my fingers through Lydia's hair to make sure she's still asleep. Her breathing stays steady and she doesn't move, so I figure I'm alright for a little while longer. Talking to Lola helps me feel calmer, takes my mind off pretend conversations with Asuka and brings me back to the real world. “And now she's basically forcing me to call my parents who I haven't spoken to in years and beg them to take my child.”

Lola raises her eyebrows at me.

“Okay, alright. I can see that this is no place for a kid.” Lola pauses and we both watch as Jesse stumbles from the van and ends up hurling all over Milo's shoes. To his credit, Terrabotti doesn't blink an eye. He fishes out a packet of baby wipes from his back pocket and starts cleaning them off. “But what if they say no? Then what?” I stare at her, at her pale skin lit up from moonlight, and my chest gets tight. Feels like I'm about to keel over from a fucking heart attack. I adjust Lydia slightly in my arms, and she grumbles angrily.