go down, but still giving her an out.
“Last chance. You can leave now, and we’ll forget all about this.”
“Fuck me already,” she snaps, kissing me hungrily.
Stripping off my T-shirt, I hover over her. “Happy birthday, sweet thing.”
For something I didn’t expect to ever happen, it feels so right. I already don’t want this night to end.
I’m fucked.
Everyone’s in the lounging area when I stroll out of my room. Seeing Alice, scrolling through something on her phone, I fall onto the couch beside her. It’s a rare occurrence when Damon isn’t attached to her hip.
“I need your help,” I tell her.
“What do you need?” she chirps, putting her phone down. That’s the thing with Alice. When you ask for her attention, she gives it to you completely.
I hand over my cell. “Can you set me up on social media, please?”
A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, and I don’t like it. It’s like she thinks she knows something, when I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.
“What particular site?”
“The one with just the pictures. I don’t know what it’s called.”
“Instagram?”
I shrug, still not knowing. The band has pages and shit all over the internet, but I don’t keep up with it all. I pose for pictures, and that’s as far as I go.
“Yeah, that one.”
She works her magic, and before I know it, she’s set me up with my own account.
“Can you show me how it works?”
“Well, you can post pictures, like this…”
I watch everything she does, but I’m not interested in posting shit.
“How do you search people?”
“Who do you want to follow?”
My mouth opens, and I quickly close it. She knows how I feel about Jamiee, so it wouldn’t shock her to hear I want to seek out her socials, but the words don’t leave my mouth.
“You want to go out tonight, Fred?” Baz asks as he walks out of his room, towel drying his hair.
“No, I’m good,” I reply, keeping my attention on Alice and the phone.
She clicks around and tilts the phone so I can see the screen better.
“So I followed my account, the band’s account, and Jamiee’s. All you do is type in the name of the person you’re after and hit ‘follow.’”
I’m grateful. She knew who I wanted, and didn’t make a big deal about it. Another reason I like having her around.
“That simple?”
“Pretty much.”
I take the phone and mumble “Thank you” as I head back to my room. Going to Jamiee’s account, I find thousands of uploads, and I look through each and every one of them. She’s so fucking beautiful; she should be hidden away like a rare jewel. Image after image, I’m assaulted with images of her posing, and ones with plates of her meals out. She looks happy.
I try to ignore the ones of her with Lockheart—fucking prick. He’s tagged in a photo of them sitting on a beach, so I click on his name, taking me to his account. I don’t find one upload of him with Jamiee. They’re all of him and his band hanging around and on tour.
His latest upload was posted thirty minutes ago at a restaurant with the location posted. I know they’re still in town, so I Google the place. It’s four streets over from our hotel.
I don’t think, I don’t plan. I jump off the bed, ignoring the guys’ curious gazes as I head out of the suite. There’s a chill in the air tonight, and I shove my hands in my pockets as I set off.
Ten minutes later, I’m standing outside Flair, looking at where he’s seated through the window.
He’s so smug, sitting there laughing, enjoying himself with a table full of people lapping up his every word. It makes me sick. How can he sit there without a care in the world knowing what he’s done?
I’m not sure how long I watch him, but it’s long enough for them to finish their main course and receive another round of drinks and dessert.
More laughing, some messing around, and I’ve finally had enough. Heading for the door, I slam it open. Lockheart’s too engrossed in his own orbit to notice my arrival, but he’s about to get everything he deserves.
I recognise Tommo and Rocky, Lockheart’s drummer and bassist. They see me approaching, but they’re not quick enough to warn Deacon. Curling my fingers, my hand fists as I swing my arm back, launching it against the motherfucker’s jaw. The impact is so fierce, I knock him off his chair. Before he can recover, I’m straddling