Sweet Possession (Sweet #5)(36)

“Nah. I’m having her stuff removed from her hotel right now and transferred to the house we’ll be staying at. Her label has rented a place for her to stay and the team has gone ahead to take make it ready and take position.”

“Then let’s go have a beer. Sam will take good care of them and we can check on them later.”

“I have a confession to make,” Lyric said as she flopped onto the couch. She leaned forward and put her finger over her lips. “But shhhh! You can’t tell anyone. If it shows up in the tabloids, I’ll know you told.”

“Of course we won’t tell,” Faith said as she slashed her fingers over her chest in a cross-my-heart gesture.

“Spill,” Julie said. “I’ve always wanted to know the deep, dark secrets of the rich and famous.”

“I can’t dance,” Lyric slurred out.

The other women broke into laughter.

“What do you call what we’ve been doing for the last hour?” Serena demanded.

Lyric held up a finger, though it waved precariously. “Performers can do just about any ridiculous move onstage and it looks cool. But really, if you really look at it, it’s hysterical. I have no rhythm. I never could dance. I just sort of make up stuff as I go, but once, I got carried away and tripped onstage. For weeks the magazines reported that I’d been high while performing.” She shook her head back and forth. “Nope. Never been high.” She giggled. “Until now. I just can’t dance.”

“Assholes,” Faith said solemnly. “Shitheads.”

Angelina cracked up. “Are you practicing your naughty words, Faith?”

“Fucktard,” Julie added.

Serena got into the spirit. “Pissant. Dickhead. Twat.”

Lyric covered her ears. “You guys have to stop. I’m not used to such vulgar language.”

They all stared with raised eyebrows while Lyric blinked innocently. Then they all fell back in their seats and died laughing again.

Sam appeared, looking discomfited. He held two bottles in his hands but hadn’t opened them. “If you would pardon the observation, I can’t help but think maybe you’ve had enough to drink today. I wouldn’t like for any of you to become ill.”

“Does that mean he doesn’t want us to puke?” Julie asked blearily.

“That too,” Sam added.

Lyric waved him off. “Fine by me. I hate puking. Did I tell you guys I don’t drink?”

“Yeah, you did,” Julie snickered. “No one resists our charm for long. And it’s not every day we get to be a bad influence on a pop diva.”

Lyric yawned widely. “I’m tired.”

Faith patted the pillow at her hip. “Lie down and get comfortable.”

“Not a bad idea,” Serena said. “Maybe then the room would stop spinning.”

Lyric sprawled on the couch and leaned against Faith. She meant to close her eyes for just a moment but the next thing she knew she was being gently shaken awake.

She blinked but all she could make out was a blurry face. His mouth moved and she could swear he sounded like Connor—if Connor were to talk to her through a really long tunnel.

She frowned and tried to shove him away, then snuggled against Faith’s hip again. Faith’s hip? Lyric pushed herself up to see that Faith was passed out, half hanging over the arm of the couch. Lyric was sprawled over Faith and when Lyric looked down, she saw that Serena was half lying over Lyric’s legs.

Julie was sprawled in an armchair and only Angelina was awake and alert, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Then Lyric glanced around to see that the room was full of men who were all valiantly trying to keep from laughing. She scowled at them all but it only broadened their grins.

“What in God’s name did you all do to your hair?” Connor asked in exasperation as he fingered one of Lyric’s blue tips.

“At least they didn’t get tattoos,” Gray muttered.

“Don’t give them any ideas,” Nathan snapped.

Serena stirred and lifted her head, her eyes so blurry that Lyric was sure she had no clue where she was.

“Who’s talking?” Serena demanded. “Sam, make them shut up.”

Damon chuckled and reached down to run his fingers through Serena’s hair. “Does your head hurt, Serena mine? It should. You put quite a dent in my wine cellar.”

She sighed and arched into his touch, and it was then that Lyric saw the intricate gold band around Serena’s upper arm, bared when her sleeve rose with her movements.

Damon’s hand ventured lower to stroke the band, his fingers tracing the lines. He stroked her skin and the jewelry in a possessive manner that clearly told anyone watching she belonged to him.

It made Lyric’s chest tighten in a funny way she didn’t understand, and she shifted to alleviate the discomfort.

“We need to be going, Lyric,” Connor said.

She appreciated that he kept his voice low. She already felt overwhelmed. And while it had been fun while it was going on, she was pretty sure she never wanted to drink again.

Connor chuckled. “That’s what everyone says after the high is gone.”

She cracked her eye open again as she realized she’d spoken the last part aloud. Or maybe he was just a good mind reader.