Manaconda (Hammered #1)(43)

“Fuck.”

“You’re an *,” Noah muttered.

He didn’t have to tell me. One of my best friends was in the drunk tank screaming out inventive ways he was going to fold my dick inside out, the girl I’d thought was different turned out to be a little too much like my ex, and what should have been the best week of my life had been punctuated with an arrest.

May was officially a shitstorm and my life was the epicenter.

Noah turned out the side entrance of the police station and I followed him. He didn’t wait up for me. His long legs ate up the pavement to a McDonalds parking lot across from the precinct.

I hurried to catch up.

Noah shot a heated look at me across the hood of his Escalade. “You know what? I had a beautiful woman’s legs around my neck about an hour ago. I had the pleasure of hearing her come her brains out.”

“Thanks for the recap of your night.” I climbed into the passenger seat of Noah’s truck.

He got in and slammed his door. “Yes, but the important part of this story is that I had to leave that lovely lady, put her in her car, and send her home. So, not only did I have to bail your stupid ass out, but I have a very nice case of blue balls as a bonus parting gift.”

“So, that’s why you weren’t at the bar as my backup.”

“I didn’t know you required backup, asshat. And I was at your party. Just had a better incentive to leave than to watch you idiots drink booze you can’t handle.”

“Fuck off.”

“You aren’t allowed to have whiskey if you can’t hold your liquor, and Bats definitely cannot. Or, he was drunk on *. Which is exactly what it sounds like. What in the f*ck?”

I slumped down and stared out the window.

“No answer?”

“Fresh out.”

“If you own a rockstar dick does that negate the bro-code? You don’t dip your wick in a friend’s girl. Period. Even if she’s an ex. How hard is this?”

“You don’t know Victoria.”

“I can guarantee that it wouldn’t matter how hot she was, I wouldn’t f*ck her or get mixed up with her.”

“Yeah, well she has a way of getting under your skin and making you want to take care of her. I was fooled for a long damn time.” I stared out the passenger window.

I’d still be with Victoria if I didn’t catch her in bed with her co-star. I’d been utterly blind to her. She’d wrapped me up good and tight until I couldn’t further her career any longer.

Then she’d moved on to another poor bastard. Now that Hammered was climbing the charts again, and everyone wanted a piece of us, Vic was back.

Knowing she was running the same game on Bats brought up all the anger I thought I’d put aside. When I’d been with Victoria I’d been in the center of that bull shit. I’d lived for parties and people that were only interested in how many A-listers you could name drop.

When I’d walked away from her, I’d gone looking for more. I’d found it in my music, in my friends, in my quiet house in the Hills away from the cesspool that was Los Angeles.

This f*cking magazine thing had me smack in the middle of all of it again. I thought Kennedy was different, but she was worse. She steered the ship and showed people how to act, how to play, how to become the super famous.

I’d walked right into it again—blinded by a smile and my dick. I was a stupid son of a bitch.

Seeing her protect her client, to immediately side with her and walk away from me proved that well enough.

“So, does that mean the house is empty?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Then I can smoke your ass on Call of Duty.”

Noah was quiet for a moment, then a smile stretched across his face. “Dream on, brother. You seem to forget who died magnificently in our last game.”

“And I learned, and have been practicing.”

“Oh, is that the way?”

“Damn right.”

“All right. We’ll see. Just because you spent an hour in jail doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you, you know.”

“I’d think it would be the opposite.”

“Now you’re learning.”

I sure as f*ck hoped so.





20





Kennedy





I swore and threw my liquid liner into my makeup bag. Again. This was only my fifth time trying to do my face. I was a freaking pro at liquid liner.

What the hell was my problem?

I dabbed at the corner of my eye with a Q-tip, giving up at the bright red eyes staring back at me. I hadn’t heard from Hunter in three days. There was full on radio silence from Indie, and Lila hadn’t returned my texts since yesterday.

Sales for Hammered’s album were holding steady. In fact they’d bumped higher after Hunter and Reed’s arrest Wednesday night.

Wyatt and Hunter had been in the Rolling Stone headlines again, this time for a guest appearance at a Foo Fighter’s show. Wyatt and Dave Grohl had a drum off, and Hunter had convinced Dave to bring his guitar throne back out for the show.

I’d watched the YouTube clips eleven times last night. Only five this morning.

Dex, their record executive? got his wish. Every time someone asked Hunter about who he was dating, he answered that he was single as single could be.