Before the clock started ticking in myhead.
Before I’d answered whatever messages were already waiting on my phone; Lex’s was the only one I’d bothered responding toyet.
Everyone else could wait while I had my morningdrive.
I put on Soundgarden, “Rusty Cage,” and gunnedit.
As I drove across the city, I did my usual mental inventory. While I watched Jesse’s back, I also managed security for the entire band. Right now, while Dirty was recording an album, that was easier to do on weekdays, when they were all in one place—in the studio. But even on the weekend or if they were scattered across the globe, I knew where they all were. I always knew where they were and what they were doing. Every member of the band—Jesse, Zane, Elle, Seth and Dylan—and my security crew, as well as band management—Brody andMaggie.
I’d checked in with Maggie last night, as usual, before going to sleep, before I could turn off the mentalclock.
You needanything?
Her response was brief and the same as it had been all week:Moremen.
Maggie knew better than to write me a fuckingnovel.
She also knew I was working on the men. We needed a few more solid guys to work security on the upcoming tour, on salary. I also needed to round up a few more bodies, whoever was in town over the holidays, for the New Year’s Eve event, if that washappening.
NYE?I’d texted herback.
Herresponse:?
Meaning she didn’t have the first clue what was happening on New Year’s Eve yet. I knew she’d let me know when she knewmore.
Until then, I deleted theconversation.
Throughout the day, every day, I’d check in with her, with Brody, with every single guy on my security crew, or they’d check in with me, keeping me posted on wherever they were at, whatever was goingon.
And then, of course, there was my other crew. TheKings.
They were always in contact,too.
And then there was my special project. My secret, admittedly fucked up project. Lex, paid out of my own pocket to run surveillance on RoniWebber.
Because ever since I’d fucked her at Jesse and Katie’s wedding, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Couldn’t getherout of mymind.
I’d asked her, right after we fucked:You feelin’ me, V?Looked her in the eye and asked her, straightup.
Her answer?No.
I’d told her that was good, that she and I weren’t going down that roadtogether.
Same as I’d told her when we wereyoung.
And she’d seemed perfectly fucking fine withthat.
Problem was—Iwasn’t.
I told myself nothing had changed between us, that there was no use digging around in thepast.
But I wasn’t even sure if that wastrue.
The fact was, I had some kind of lingering, unresolved attraction to this girl that just didn’t seem to want to fade the fuck away. And fucking her had just thrown a bucket load of fuel on that long-neglectedfire.
After that night, I’d run a security check on her—because old fucking habits. I knew exactly what I’d find: that she was fucking someone else. I thought it would turn me off, I’d stop thinking about her, end ofstory.
Not fuckingso.
