Take Me with You (Take Me #2)(46)

Once McAvoy had sent out the blast to our social media sites, we took a cab to a nearby bar. We’d played New York City enough that we had a few local groupies who came to all our shows. After the New Year’s show in the city with The Drift, our fan base had grown. But I hadn’t anticipated the number of people who would show up.

“Ugh! Look at all those sluts,” Sydney said. She stood next to me in another tiny f*cking skirt and shirt with cowboy boots.

Those goddamn cowboy boots.

“This coming from a girl who has f*cked the entire Tennessee football team.” I nudged her.

“Not the entire team.”

“And half of my band.”

“I can only f*ck three-quarters of the band, cuz. Sounds like I’m missing out.” She smirked defiantly.

“And how many dudes did you blow at the ski lodge?”

She shrugged. “How long were we there? I lost count.”

“Long enough that you should remember. What’s up with you and Miller?”

“Oh, stop, Grant. I don’t want to talk about Miller. Just because you went and got your ass whipped doesn’t mean I should suddenly change my ways. I like sex. I like lots of it. I’m not f*cking waiting around for him or anyone else while I live three f*cking states away.”

“You know I don’t give a f*ck what you do, Syd. I’m far from a model f*cking citizen. Just don’t f*ck with my boys.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Who else am I supposed to f*ck?”

She gestured around the room, and she had a point. Practically everyone who had shown up was a chick. And at least half of them seemed to be trying to figure out who Sydney was, so they could make a move on me.

The chick in the front had on a skintight dress that showed off all her curves in all the right places. Two or three girls nearby were busting out of their tops. Christ, it was like someone had told them I f*cking loved them busty. Another girl caught my eye who had a dark, mysterious vibe about her. I bet she could suck cock. Before Ari, I would have found out. Now, I made a mental checklist. I could appreciate a chick if she was hot and imagine what she would probably do to me without actually f*cking wanting it to happen. At least I’d never go through with it.

“Your pick of the lot, and my *-ass cousin is waiting on his girl in Florida.”

“Hey, watch your f*cking mouth.”

A smile crossed her face, and she playfully punched me on the shoulder. I winced, but I tried to cover it up. I hadn’t told anyone else about the motorcycle accident because I felt like too much of an idiot to admit to it.

“Shots,” I suggested. Alcohol could dull the pain of more than just the accident.

We rounded up the guys and toasted to our newfound success.

After a while, I remembered the number of shots I had taken about as well as Sydney remembered how many dudes she’d blown at the ski lodge. All I knew was, I felt wonderfully f*cking numb everywhere and goddamn happy about the band.

I wandered away from the group and dug out my phone from my pocket.

Ari answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey!” I cried.

She laughed. “Are you drunk?”

“Barely had anything, anything at all.”

“Right. That’s why you’re slurring your words.”

“Okay, I might have had more than one.” I crashed down onto a barstool and pressed the phone closer to my ear.

“I saw the status that was posted. Congratulations! How does it feel to be a signed band under a major record label?”

“Almost as good as your *.”

I could practically see her blushing.

“Oh, Grant.”

“Speaking of my favorite thing, can you bring her over tonight? We’re f*cking celebrating!”

“I wish I could, but it’s kind of a long flight from Florida.”

“Then, what am I supposed to f*ck?” I asked.

There was a short pause before Ari answered, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You keep your dick in your pants, Grant McDermott.”

“Oh, Princess, you know you’re the only one for me.”

“You’re doing what?” I crossed my arms and stared at Grant in disbelief.

I’d been back from spring break for only a total of three hours. It had been a great vacation. I was glad I had let Grant convince me to go even though that had meant he had to deal with the band and his dad by himself. Luckily, there had been no sign of his father while I was gone, but there had been a major development with the band.

“Going on tour,” Grant repeated.

“Already? I mean, doesn’t that seem…I don’t know…crazy?”

“Definitely crazy.” He picked me up around the middle and swung me around in a circle. “Ari, ContraBand is going on a real tour. We’re going to be playing multiple shows a week, making money off of our music, promoting ‘Life Raft’ and the upcoming album.”

“The album you haven’t even recorded yet,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, well, we just signed. And we have so many songs that have never even seen a real album before.”

“Besides the one from Corey.”

“Forget about Corey,” he said. “We’re talking about a big studio album recorded in Los Angeles. We’re talking about working with the best in the business.”