I'd lost Liam.
I didn't think I'd be able to survive if I lost Cherry Lips.
Seth acted as DD again, complaining under his breath the entire time. We managed to score one of those private VIP booths even without having arranged for one ahead of time. It was sort of a rush, the kind of strings the name Cherry Lips could now pull.
“No drinking games for me tonight,” Nathan said. “I’ve got other plans.”
“Scoring with groupies in dark corners counts as a plan?” Gael asked.
“You could try being little less crass about it,” Nathan drawled.
“I’m coming with you,” Seth said.
Nathan raised an eyebrow. “You wanna be my wingman?”
“No,” Seth said. “You’re going to be mine.”
Nathan gave him a startled look, then chuckled. Seth was rarely up for the kind of pick up games Nate liked to play.
“Let’s go score you some chicks, then,” Nathan said, throwing his arm around Seth’s shoulders and leading him to the bar.
The rest of us took seats in leather armchairs near the glass wall overlooking the dance floor. I made sure to sit as far away from Gael and Liam as I could, which placed me next to Julian. He looked oddly lost without his best friend and constant partner by his side. Seth rarely abandoned him like that.
A server came to take our orders. I got my usual whiskey sour. Liam ordered a plain beer instead of one of his fancy rich twelve-year-whatever drinks.
Not that I was paying attention to what he ordered. He could drink himself to death for all I cared, as long as he dragged his corpse up on stage for our next concert.
“I looked up some info on that dickface blogger,” Gael said once we had our drinks. “He does write for one of those trash sites. Apparently his thing is to rile up his interviewees so he can catch them blowing up on camera. We were lucky none of us snapped.” Gael eyed Liam. “Although you looked about ten seconds away from pounding his face in.”
“I’ve dealt with worse,” he said, “I just hated all that shit he brought up.”
Gael clapped him forcefully on the back with a consoling pat. “You’re not a has-been. Don’t worry about it.”
“It wasn’t just that,” Liam murmured into his beer. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
I knew exactly what had gotten him so pissed off. The blogger had brought up me and Morris. That was the absolute last thing Liam would want to hear about. He was probably thinking about the two of us right now. Wondering what I was doing behind his back after our fight.
“I can’t believe that fucker brought up Morris and the old band,” Gael said, as if echoing my thoughts. “Especially tonight.”
Julian inhaled a sharp breath and looked to me, surprised. I nodded in response to his unasked question. He gave me a sympathetic look.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” I managed to say with a strangled breath.
I found myself rubbing at my nails. The red lacquer was almost completely peeled off at this point. I must have been scratching at the polish all night.
Liam’s frown deepened.
Gael continued talking, still angry about the blogger. “It's especially shitty bringing it up, with the engagement and everything—”
My brother cut himself off as I stood quickly, nearly splashing my drink as my fight or flight instinct kicked in. I put a hand on the back of the sofa, fingers digging into the cushions. Gael’s eyes went wide.
“Cerise, if you want to just go home, we can do that,” he said.
“Running away again?” Liam said. His eyes were dark and flat.
“If my sister is feeling like shit there’s no reason she needs to stay here and drink with the rest of us,” Gael said.
