CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jersey
Abottle of Jack Daniels is cold fucking comfort when the woman you want won’t heat your bed. I tipped my bottle to my guest’s glass to refill it and then to mine.
“Why are we drinking this?” my guest said wincing as he took a sip of the whiskey. “It’s like fire.”
I rechecked the bottle. I had grabbed the cinnamon version, the fire whiskey. It wasn’t exactly for sipping.
“Sorry.” I pulled a can of coke from the cooler at my chair and chucked it at him. “Mix that in.”
He caught the can with a smooth flick of his wrist but set it on the table next to him.
“The depth of your sophistication astounds me.”
I grunt. He’s as unhappy as I am, but it does no good to whine.
It’s been two weeks since we got out of jail but we might as well have stayed behind bars because the paperwork Jacine had us sign was the better prison. What she didn’t tell us was that in those contracts we agreed to go nowhere but rehearsals, talk shows, and promo events until the actual concert. So if I wasn’t working, I was sitting here at the pool of my house, staring at the damned Hollywood Hills.
My phone rang, and with surprise, I see it was Kane.
“What the hell?”
“I’m sick of this shit.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We should have stayed in jail.”
“What’s your real problem, Kane? It’s not your abiding love of incarceration.”
“She won’t fucking see me.”
“That was the deal.”
“But I didn’t think shemeantit.”
“She meant it.”
“I bet she’s seeing lawyer man.”
“She’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s sitting right here drinking with me.”
“Hello, Kane,” called out Marshall. He tipped his glass toward me as if Kane could see it.
“How the hell? I thought that we were supposed to stay apart.”
“You, me and Holmes aren’t to see each other. He doesn’t have that restriction.”
“What the hell?”
“You keep saying that.”
“What are you doing?”
