He sat on the couch and draped the guitar across his lap. “Six years ago. When I was still performing solo. It was a dive bar on Sixth Street in Austin. There must’ve been a convention in town or something, because everyone in that bar was wearing a cowboy hat. The moment I started playing my guitar and they realized itwasn’tcountry music, they turned on me.” He smiled. “I got to throw a glass at someone that night.”
“What!”
“Redneck prick threw something at me on stage. So I tossed back the rest of my whiskey and fastball’d it at the sonofabitch. Caught him right in the chest. Didn’t even break, just pissed him off. Had to flee out the back door. Hold on a second.”
He concentrated on the guitar, plucking a few notes and twisting the frets.
“I thought of this,” he said. “While squeezing your ass.”
Riot began playing the guitar, and I was immediately entranced. It was a slow, ballad-like melody that made me swoon like a superfan.
Then he ruined it by singing, “Beautiful ass I want to squeeze, beautiful ass I want toplease, beautiful ass that brings meto my knees.”
I burst out laughing. “It was a sweet song until you started singing.”
“I’ll change the lyrics later.” He continued playing, just the notes this time. It was a simple tune, but hauntingly beautiful.
I clapped when he was done. “I didn’t think I’d get a private show tonight.”
“I’ll give you a private show whenever you want.” He stood up and struck a pose.
“That would be sexier if your dick wasn’t sticking out of the bottom of the guitar,” I teased.
“You mean that doesn’t make it sexier?” He frowned and looked down at himself. “This is an X-rated show that most fans don’t get to see.”
I rose from the bed and strolled toward him, swaying my hips just enough to make his eyes widen. “I’ll give you an X-rated show.”
He tossed the guitar back on the couch as I kissed him, pressing my entire nude body up against his so he could feel my warmth.
“You should probably head back down,” he whispered. “To your room.”
I groaned. “I was afraid you would say that. But you’re probably right. I told Vi I had to get some Skittles from the frontdesk. She bought it, but she’ll get suspicious if I’m gone for much longer.”
A distant look appeared in Riot’s dark eyes, like he was doing complex math in his head. Then he smiled and kissed me again, warm and passionate.
“Next hotel room is in Boston.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” I breathed.
“Oh, and you’d better take this.” He reached into the mini bar and handed me a crinkly package. “To, uh, maintain your alibi.”
I took the bag of Skittles. “Our room doesn’t have a mini bar. Just a coffee machine.”
“It pays to be the frontman,” he said with a wink.
Back in my room, Violet was sitting up in bed with a laptop and headphones on. When she saw me, she removed the headphone from one ear and said, “Was beginning to worry about you.”
“Oh, yeah, you know. Went down a rabbit hole with the guy at the front desk.”
“Totally.” She put the headphone back on and resumed watching her show.
She seemed skeptical of my excuse. But I was probably just being paranoid.
21
Roxie
The show the next night was probably the weakest one we’d had since the tour began. The Washington D.C. venue didn’t have a traditional floor section; there were rows of seats that went right up to the stage. Some of the fans stood when the concert began, but a lot more remained seated the entire time.
