Snare (Falling Stars #3) (18 page)

I cock my brow at her and she gives me an I-feel-sorry-for-you smile before looking away.

Gripping the bottom of my shirt, I pull down.

Stupid judgey women. It's late at night, I'm tired, and I don't want to deal with their bullshit.

What ever happened to sticking together? Vagina power and all that shit. Nope, we are our own worst enemies. Forget raising each other up. Instead, we judge and put down. Like we don't have enough to deal with as women, as humans in an overpopulated world.

"Sid!" The shout pulls me from my thoughts and draws my attention behind me.

Lucas barrels into me and I step back, bracing the impact.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he says, "I told Mom it was you."

My arms instinctively embrace the beautiful sunshine boy I've known and loved his entire life.

"Hey, my man." I squeeze him. "Your mom letting you run around the airport alone now?"

He pulls back and looks up at me, though I don't miss just how tall he's gotten.

"Sean's with me," he explains, jerking his head to my left.

Sean raises a hand in greeting.

Lifting my left arm, I reach out for him.

"Come on, bring it in here," I say, motioning with my hand for him to join our little party.

He hesitates for a second before Lucas grabs his arms and draws him in.

I encase them both in a tight hug.

"Sid," Liza's voice pulls the three of us apart, allowing her to move right in.

Her thin arms hold me so tight, a warmth crawls through my body. Then, two big long arms come around us both and lift.

"I can't breathe," I choke out, my toes barely touching the dirty airport floor.

"Jack, baby," Liza puffs the words.

My feet hit the floor and I gasp for air.

"Christ, Jolly Inked Giant," I pant, "you trying to kill me."

"I do owe you for that glitter stunt," he drawls.

Remembering my parting gift for Jackson when I last left L.A., I grin and look up at his oversized ass.

"You're welcome." My grin grows into a large smile.

"I still have glitter in my ass crack," he growls.

The boys chuckle. He shoots them a playful scowl and they hide behind me.

"Don't you two start," Liza warns, putting one small arm around Jack's waist.

"Consider it an education," I offer.

"An education in what?" He raises a brow.

"In not fucking with me," I deadpan.

"Language," Liza warns.

"And you didn't screw over my getaway either, did you?" I accuse.

A genuine look of confusion wrinkles Jackson's face.

"Jack?" Liza whispers. Brows furrowed, she pulls back and looks up at him.

He drops his head to her.

"I didn't…" he starts before turning his eyes back to me. "I would never have fucked with you getting away," he says vehemently, before adding, "and I wouldn't fuck up that week for Xavier. I thought his assistant had it all worked out."

"That week?" I ask.

"Yeah, that week's the anniversary of Ethan's death," he answers quietly.

"Oh," I say, my annoyance melting away.

Moving away from Liza, his large hands grip my shoulders, making sure he has my attention. "Sid, I'm serious about that asshole, though. You say the word and that fucker is a dead man. Liza already knows where my bail money is. I would never fuck around with what happened."

His words are too sincere, too nice.

Brushing off his hands, I fight back tears and force a half smile.

"Stop or I'll think you actually like me," I joke.

There's a flash of something in his eyes before he forces his own smile.

"Wouldn't want that, would we?" He crosses his arms over his chest.

"I've got it," Lucas shouts.

Turning, we find him and Sean pulling my supersized black with neon green polka dots rolling suitcase from the turnstile.

Jackson brushes by me and takes the suitcase from the boys just as an overly muscled man in black takes the bag. Mr. Muscles places the bag on a cart full of garment bags, boxes, and luggage.

It's then I notice the four security guards, two airport security personnel, and Jackson's personal assistant, Julia, creating a perimeter around us.

"Jesus." I twist my head, taking it all in.

"Get used to it," Liza breathes out from beside me. "Jackson already had two women try to grab his crotch."

I purse my lips and nod.

"Respect to those chicks," I say, though I don't mean to say it out loud.

"Really?" Liza turns her head toward me.

I meet her eyes and grin.

"Come on," I wave to all the security, "they braved all this and his girlfriend to get a piece of his—"

"Huge dick," Jackson finishes, placing an arm around both of us.

Liza slaps his flat stomach.

"Hey," he exclaims, "it belongs to you, so I don't know what you're complaining about."

"Has he been hanging around Elliott?" I ask.

Liza laughs. "They've all been together for the past week rehearsing."

I nod. "Now it makes sense."

"I don't sound like Elliott," Jack says.

Before I can respond, Julia gets our secured group moving toward the cars waiting to take us to The Towers Hotel.

Xavier

In the glass shower of the luxury hotel room, I wash away the five and a half hour flight from L.A. Sure, the first class helps, but there's still something about flying that makes me feel like I've grown a thin film of dirt all over my body.

Once I feel clean again, I step out and wrap a towel around my waist. I dry the rest of my body and hair with a second towel before going through the grooming process.

Yeah, it's a process. Anyone with long hair and a full beard who says it's not is a damn liar. Granted, I don't take hours to get ready like some women and my teenage daughters, but there's brushing, combing, sometimes trimming, beard oil and waxes. I'm not trying to be high maintenance, but I refuse to look like Grizzly Adams.

Just thinking about the mountain man makes my mind wander to Sid. She'll be here for the concert. Fuck, Red has her practically running things with his ass. If he weren't hung up on Bethany, I swear to God I'd have to fight him for Sid. He's lucky, 'cause I wouldn't want to kill one of my best friends over a girl.

I secure my hair at the crown of my head and move on to trimming the beard.

Sid's not a fucking girl, though. She's all woman. With curves as dangerous as her mouth, there's really no fucking doubt about it. Sidra Campbell needs a real man, unlike the douchebag who hurt her, and I plan to be that man.

It's been a long ass month, getting Maria back home with a twenty-four-hour nurse at her side, dealing with my new personal assistant, Mel, getting the girls set up with a tutor and homeschooling for the rest of this year, not to mention getting their living arrangements settled during this tour, and fighting every instinct to contact Sid.

Mom was right, though. I had shit to handle and come to terms with, and so did Sid. I've handled most of the pressing shit in my life. Though, Maria, not by her choice, is a constant state of unknown. So far, since leaving the hospital, she's been doing much better and her heart is doing what it's supposed to. Then, there's fucking Randy, who, by his own fault, is a total mess. Red really doesn't want him on the tour, but he also wants to give the fans what they paid for: the remaining members of Corrosive Velocity on stage together.

As I massage the oil into my face and beard, my cell rings.

After wiping my hands on a small towel, I grab my phone from the dresser.

"Hello," I answer, tugging the towel away from my hips.

Letting it fall to the floor, I sit naked on the edge of the bed.

It's good to air certain areas out.

"Mr. Stone," Mel starts.

I sigh and cut him off, "I've told you to call me Xavier."

When Ember insisted on a permanent replacement for her, she found Melvin. He had a strong event management and personal assisting background, though I would be his first "celebrity". Call it sexist, but I wasn't so sure about a guy doing all the shit Em handles. However, I've gotta say, regardless of his newness and insecurity, it's been pretty awesome. He totally gets the "guy requests" Em used to give me shit about. Like, does a place or event have the beer I like or serve something other than culinary works of art.

"Sorry, I'm not used to—"

"Get used to it, and tell me why you're calling," I interrupt again.

"Yeah, sorry. You wanted to know when she checked in," he pauses.

"And?" I press.

"She checked in twenty minutes ago and is in her room," Mel finishes.

"Good job," I say.

"Do you need anything else, si—Xavier?" He's learning.

"Not tonight. Thanks, Mel."

I hang up, drag myself up the bed, and lounge on the oversized pillows.

"See you in the morning, Sid," I whisper to the room and close my eyes.

Chapter Fifteen

Xavier

Seeing Corbin Crowne after more than three years of almost nothing sends a shot of pain through my chest. He's older, but still the same. Tan skin, silver spattered dark hair—shorter than it used to be—roughly the same height as me, lean build, and tattooed forearms. Fuck me, it's a reminder of what Ethan would look like if he were still alive.

"Don't," he says, standing from his chair at the table.

Red arranged for all of us to meet this morning in a private room for breakfast.

"I didn't say a thing." I shake my head.

"You don't have to," he responds, holding a hand out to me.

I grip his hand and pull him into my chest.

"Fuck, man, it's been too long."

Our hands still clasped between us, we give each other the one-armed guy hug.

After pulling apart, we both take a seat at the table.

"I don't know how Red got you to agree, but I'm thrilled, brother," I confess, shaking out my napkin as a hotel staff member offers me coffee.

"I threatened him," Red states, entering the room and sitting at the table across from me.

Corbin shakes his head, and says, "Bastard said he'd move into my house until I said yes."

I laugh, too.

"Damn straight," Red concurs, stabbing a piece of sausage. "You would've woke up each morning to this handsome face." Grinning, he shoves the meat into his mouth.

"I'd do whatever it took to avoid that, too," I say.

"Fuck you both," Red says with his mouth full.

I reach toward the food in the middle of the table and fill my plate.

"Randy get his shit together yet?" I ask.

"My shit is fine," Randy states, pulling the last chair at the table back roughly.

I snort.

"You better be fucking clean," Red growls.

"Don't worry about me,
Dad
. I'm good."

The shake of his hands warns differently.

For the next two hours, we talk about some of the good ole days before Corbin can't take anymore and changes the subject to the concert.

"How many press conferences?" He sits back, arms over his chest, and eyes on Red.

"One…" Red takes a drink of orange juice, "at each event."

"Christ," Corbin grounds out.

"I've made it very clear with Chantel which topics are off the table," he assures.

"Chantel?" Randy inquires.

"She's from the public relations company I hired. She'll head up the press situations and keep it on track. Besides, we're here to raise money for different charities, not deal with the gossip," Red explains.

"But they are going to bring up Ethan," I say, playing devil's advocate.

From the corner of my eye, I watch Corbin tense. Even so many years after his death, Corbin feels it like it was yesterday. Being twins, I'm sure there's a connection I could never possibly understand. And the disappearing act Ethan pulled right before he died puts another twist on the whole thing.

"Only where Neurofibromatosis is concerned. The NF Network is one of our chosen charities, so it will be a topic, but we won't be going into more than that," Red says.

"The questions will still happen." Corbin's voice is even, too even, and emotionless.

"We'll field them," Randy joins in, surprisingly being selfless. "You won't deal with shit you don't want."

I nod my agreement.

"Okay, assholes," Red announces, "it's time to get to The Garden. We've got some rehearsals to do before tonight."

"I know Chris can handle things. Are you sure his woman can?" Randy asks.

We all stand from the table.

"Randy, I can't wait for you to meet Mia." Red grins and I chuckle.

"I've got to admit, I'm not so sure about a female voice," Corbin adds.

I clasp his shoulder and walk him out of the private dining room.

"This is going to be fun," I chuckle.

As if they have a mind of their own, my eyes move around the backstage area, seeking her out. I know she's back here, having listened to Red call her multiple times to give instructions or her contacting him to bitch him out. And just like the teenage boy she inspires inside me, the sound of her voice makes my dick twitch to life.

"These are the dressing rooms," Red motions to a row of red doors. "Each band has their own."

He taps the signs on each door as we pass and stops at the last door.

"Of course I gave us the largest." He shrugs, opening the door before walking into the room.

Memories flood me.

We'd been in this one years ago. The door had been gray then and the furniture different, but for a moment, I hear Ethan's voice echoing off the bare walls.

"I know," Red says low, his head down.

It snaps me out of the haunting moment and I realize Red and Randy are just as affected as me. When my eyes land on Corbin I find him stoic and pale before he turns and leaves the room.

"I have a smaller room for him," Red says, brushing by and hurrying after Corbin.

"At least the bathroom looks nicer," Randy states, entering and closing the door.

Part of me suspects he's using.

I sit on one of the chairs next to a mirrored table, put my elbows on my knees, and hold my head in my hands.

"Hey, man." Christopher's voice stops me from falling back into the memories of a whole Corrosive Velocity.

Standing, I put out a hand, and say, "Hey."

"Where's everyone else?" Elliott's voice booms into the room.

As if on cue, the bathroom door opens and Randy steps out.

He starts to smile, but drops it the moment Chris has a hand around his neck.

"Hey, Chris, come on, man," Randy pleads.

I don't want to step in, but it needs to be done.

I half-heartedly place a hand on Chris' shoulder.

"He's not worth it," I say next to his head.

"You stay the fuck away from Jackson," Chris threatens. "If you so much as look at him wrong, I will fucking kill you."

"Fuck," Red groans, stepping between the two of them.

"I know how you feel, Chris. I really do, but this bastard isn't worth going to jail." Red places a hand on both their chests and pushes them apart.

"Chris…" Mia's voice resonates and Chris releases Randy's neck before turning to face her. She cups his face in her hands and smiles.

"Let it go," she says.

Leaning into her hand, he kisses her wrist.

The moment feels too personal, so I take two steps back.

"What did we miss?" Jimmy asks, entering the room with Jack and Liza at his back.

The sight of Liza makes me smile.

I bet Sid won't be too far behind.

"Chris defending Jack's honor," Elliott blurts. "I'm still not sure it's just brotherly love between them."

"Shut the fuck up," Chris growls.

Elliott beams, plopping down onto a couch.

"Already causing shit?" Serena, Elliott's wife, the drummer for Hush, stares him down from the door.

"Always," he boasts. "Now, come to daddy."

He puts his arms out expectantly and Serena purses her lips, but walks to him. She allows him to pull her onto his lap, but smacks the side of his head as he does it.

"Damn it, what have we talked about with the head slapping?"

"Stop acting like a child and I'll consider less smacking," she counters.

Kat and Laney, the remaining members of Hush, enter, taking a seat together on the couch. Corbin enters quietly, obviously not wanting to draw attention.

"Corbin," Jackson says in a surprise greeting.

"Hey," he nods to the room.

"Holy gray fox," Kat purrs, causing me to grin.

Corbin overhears this and grins his smile that has a ridiculous effect on women. Fuck, it was a well-known pussy magnet for years—the years before we lost Ethan.

"I think my ovaries just exploded," Laney sighs.

"Perfect," Red calls out, "Hush, meet Corrosive Velocity, and vice versa."

Heys and hellos fill the room, but my eyes stay on the door.

"She's not with us," Jack whispers to the side of my head. "I think she's dealing with all the shit she's doing for Red."

Instead of denying it, I just nod.

"Now that you've met, Corbin, I'd like you to meet Mia." There's no way to miss the cocky grin on Red's face. "Mia, Corbin and Randy aren't so sure you can handle the songs," he says, laying that shit out in front of everyone.

Chris is the first to laugh.

Mia crosses her arms over her chest and eyes Randy, then Corbin.

"Care to test me, gentlemen?" she offers.

"Oh, fuck, you guys are idiots," Chris says, striding to a chair and getting comfortable. "Baby, why don't you just give it to them a cappella?"

"You're an asshole," Randy growls at Red, just as Mia opens her mouth to start the first chorus to one of our songs.

Randy's eyes move to Mia as she takes the bridge and makes it her bitch. Corbin leans against a wall, watching her intently, but Mia's in the zone. Her body sways and she moves toward the rest of her band.

Serena scoots forward, drumming on the table. Kat and Laney offer background vocals. Then Mia turns to Liza and motions for her to sing.

Liza shakes her head no, but Jack nudges her forward.

Closing her eyes, she opens her mouth to sing with Mia and I swear to God my dick just got hard.

They end on an unpracticed harmony.

"Fuck, why aren't we having you two sing together?" Red bursts forward, looking between Mia and Liza.

Mia throws an arm over a very nervous Liza.

Swear to God, Liza is such a sweet little thing in person, but you put the girl on a stage and she's the most commanding, sexy woman. The switch she can turn off and on is amazing.

"You will be happy to know," Mia says, "I've convinced her to perform onstage with me, but it's a surprise appearance."

"Fuck that, we need to promote that shit," Red argues.

Mia narrows her eyes at him. "Not tonight. Tonight, we get the surprise factor, then you can use it for the other concerts."

"Wait, I thought I was doing a one-time—"

"You got a deal," Red cuts Liza off before turning to her. "Look, gorgeous, you get your ass out on the stage and we can promote the shit out of you, the club, and everything else."

She furrows her brow and purses her lips.

"Didn't we have the bullying talk?" she asks.

Red's face flushes and he rolls his eyes.

"Fine, will you consider performing for each concert?" he mumbles.

"She's got Red by the balls," Randy laughs out, earning Red's middle finger.

"Yes," she answers.

Then, her eyes move to Randy.

"But keep
him
away from me or you will need a new act for the club," she threatens before turning to Jackson.