was drunk.
I looked at Sebastian’s name on the screen.
Can I come to LA to be with you?
9
SAB
The women were beautiful.
They were all so damn beautiful.
Strutting around half naked.
Some topless.
Some completely naked.
I sat there with a glass of whiskey in one hand and nothing in my other hand.
I felt like something had slipped through my grip.
Nash elbowed me. “We have to leave, Sab.”
“I know,” I said as I looked around. “I can’t believe I didn’t make a new friend.”
“You’re quiet tonight,” he said. “And by me being here, Liv might kill me.”
“You’re just looking. She’s cool with it. Actually… they all are.”
Nash looked at me and nodded.
“What the hell is this? Are you getting soft?”
“No,” I said. “I’m just saying, it’s nice how it all worked out. Liv, Candice, Abby, and Wren. You know? I mean, Wren is still figuring it out. But you know Jay. He’ll protect her with his life. Which is beyond me to think about.”
Nash grinned. “Having a little regret there, Sab?”
“About what?”
“Your little visit,” Nash said. “I’m guessing you didn’t throw her to the bed and show her what a rock star you’ve become?”
“No,” I said. “Her mother just died. We were both feeling it. We’re friends.”
“Friends,” Nash said. “All these topless women around you and you’re thinking of your friend. Come on, let’s get out of here. The guys are waiting for us.”
I stood up just as a stunning beauty walked by me.
She looked back and bit her lip, winking at me.
Topless in a floss-thin G-string.
Her ass cheeks looked so firm and huggable…
“Last chance,” Nash said to me.
I sighed. “Let’s go.”
“Never thought I would see the day you’d leave a strip club without someone attached to your arm,” Nash said.
“I’m grieving,” I said.
“Sure you are.”
Nash led the way out to the waiting car.
When Nash wasn’t looking, I looked at my phone.
At Bree’s name.
I was tempted to send her a text.
I wasn’t sure what to say.
I was tongue tied even for texts.
I needed something more to drink.
And I needed a woman.
Of course that’s what I had told myself when I went out tonight too.
“Should we say something about Mitchy first?” Dex asked.
“Probably,” Reed said.
“Nash?” Jay asked.
“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know. We want this to be informal. Right?”
“It has to be,” I said. “No fancy lights or anything. Just us and some guitars. I’m picturing our practice amps with mics and that’s it. We all get on stage and just jam out a little. Talk about the songs. The riffs. What he wrote. Fuck, we can talk about everything. Spill it all out in the open.”
I heard the snapping of fingers behind me.
I looked back and saw dollar signs in Toby’s eyes.
“Why don’t we hold off on that part?” he asked.
“Why are you here?” I asked. “It’s after midnight. Don’t you need sleep?”
“He’s waiting for his hooker to show up,” Jay said.
“On our dime,” Reed said.
“I work for my money,” Toby said.
“We get paid to make women wet and he just slips right in,” Dex said.
“Slips right in,” I said. “Sounds about right… for his size…”
“Funny,” Toby said.
“Okay, what do you want?” Nash asked. “We’re trying to talk here…”
“The stories,” Toby said. “The history of it all. You’re not going to like this, but you should hold off. Let me make a few calls. You guys can write a book.”
“Oh, fuck,” Reed said. “A moneymaking thing.”
“Is that wrong?” Toby asked. “You five tell the story. The true story about Mitchy. And the band. Just hear me out. If you tell stories in front of a small crowd, what does that do? Nothing. Gets you nowhere. But if we get a book deal. The tell all of Filthy Line. That’s big…”
“Big money,” Jay said.
“I’m sorry,” Toby said. “Did you five just suddenly decide to hate money?”
I looked at Nash.
I sighed.
“Fuck, he has a point,” I said.
“Toby, get the fuck out of here,” Nash said.
“I’m leaving,” he said. “I’m leaving.”
He put up his hands and left.
We were all silent for a minute.
“Fuck,” Jay growled.
“Yeah,” Reed said.
“He’s right,” Dex said.
“We’d control the story,” Nash said. “Beginning to end.”
“I’m not in the mood for this right now,” I said. “We do the show for Mitchy the way we want. We should come out and each say something about him.”
“Or,” Jay said. “We just start playing. Go into his two favorite songs. Just jam. Then we talk.”
“I like that,” Reed said.
“Me too,” Nash said.
“Dex?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good with anything.”
“So now we just need a set list,” Nash said.
“We