A Filthy Christmas (Filthy Line #6) - Jaxson Kidman Page 0,12

I’ll supply the booze, you supply the story.”

I was about to give my answer when I heard a whistle.

I looked to my left and Jay pointed at me.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Our ride is coming. Hope you don’t puke too easily.”

Jay disappeared.

“Never mind,” Lita said.

I grabbed for her arm.

She jumped away.

“I said never mind,” she yelled at me. “Forget what I said. Go be a rock star. Fuck some strippers. Puke your guts out. I just hope your dick doesn’t shrivel up from some STD.”

I laughed and that only pissed her off even more.

When she exited the studio, I shook my head.

Who the hell was Lita for real?

6

LITA

I stood outside and waited for Maggie.

I heard her before I saw her.

Of all the roommates to end up with in LA, I got the one who loved poppy, crap music. Sorry, that’s what it all was.

It was over processed shit done by computers in a studio with engineers who had marketing people behind them telling them what to write and what to say to make sure they got enough streams to cover their personal expenses and affairs.

Was I bitter? Nope.

No matter how hard I tried to get Maggie to listen to something better, she just refused.

Quite honestly, everyone was entitled to their taste in music.

That didn’t mean I had to enjoy it.

Especially after the day I had.

Waking up in Shane’s bed. Him teasing me that I talked about Blaze.

Fuck, what exactly did I say about Blaze? How bad did I fuck up?

My time in the studio was long and boring. There wasn’t much vocal work to be done. Abby was too busy with Liv. And on top of that, Shane had to show off his guitar skills, which made him the coolest guy in the studio to the band.

And then… of course… when I decided to give just an ounce of myself to him… I offered for him to come over and talk about his life. Just to balance the scales.

What happened?

He was going out with the band to get drunk.

And not just get drunk.

Come on… rock stars don’t just get drunk.

They were going to go to a strip club. Blow through tons of cash for fun. Knowing they could take home any stripper they wanted. Knowing they could do anything they wanted without anything bad happening to them.

And Shane was part of that now.

It made me sick.

It pissed me off.

So much so that when Maggie pulled up to me, I got into her car and turned off the radio.

“Why do you listen to that bullshit?” I yelled at her.

She looked at me and grinned. “You really didn’t fuck that guy last night, did you?”

“What?”

“I thought you were lying to me. But look at you. You’re a mess right now.”

I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her.

So, I turned the music back on.

And I suffered.

I slammed the door to the apartment.

“Want to talk about it?” Maggie asked.

“I’m done with men,” I yelled.

“All men?”

“All of them.”

“Then what are you going to do for pleasure?” Maggie asked. “Don’t ask me to help. I only told you that one story from college because we were drunk. I’m never doing that again.”

“What? No. I didn’t…”

I groaned.

I went into my bedroom and stood in the middle of the floor.

It was freaking nine at night and I was home.

Bored. Pissed off.

Nothing to do.

There were a million things to do though.

It was LA.

There was always a club to go to. A show to attend. People to meet. There were probably six hundred and fifty-two open mic nights happening too.

Which meant I should have been out there singing.

Getting up on stage, proving myself.

The door opened behind me.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” I said.

“It’s fine,” Maggie said. “What happened last night?”

I turned. “Truthfully? I saw Blaze.”

“Oh, damn.”

“Yeah. He was with some fake-boobed slut.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He came up and talked to me. To us. I asked Shane to pretend to be my boyfriend. He did.”

“Really?” Maggie asked. “That’s interesting.”

“It’s not. I made a fool of myself. I tried to attack Blaze.”

“You, what?”

“Yeah. Shane had to pull me off. Then he threatened Blaze and chased him away.”

“And Shane is the guy playing guitar for Filthy Line, right?”

“That’s right,” I said. “And after that, we drank. A lot. Well, I drank a lot. He made sure I got home. To his place. In his bed. At which point I guess I talked about Blaze.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did. And I don’t remember a thing I said to him.”

Maggie lowered her head and sighed. “Oh, Lita…”

“I know.