Page 103 of How to Be a Rockstar's Girlfriend

I don’t need a man. I have my business, my uncle, and my friends. I don’t need anything more.

Chapter 29

Wake up call – something Gibson is in dire need of

Gibson

“Wake up, asshole!” Jett shouts before kicking my feet.

“Fuck off,” I say as I roll over.

The mattress tilts to the side and I find myself crashing to the floor. I open my eyes to glare at Jett but he’s not alone. Fender is holding the mattress while Cash, Dylan, and Jett glare at me.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“Get dressed. We need to talk,” Cash orders before marching out of the room.

Fender grunts and drops the mattress back in place on the bed before following him out.

Dylan glowers at me. “You brought this on yourself.”

I wait until Jett and I are alone before speaking again. “Did you tattletale on me?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “You have a problem. You need to deal with it.”

I get to my feet. “My only problem is my bandmates are a bunch of meddling bastards who keep poking their noses in my business.”

He sighs. “We care about you. We’re your family.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Whatever. Get dressed. We’ll be downstairs.”

I wait until he closes the door behind him before sinking onto the bed. Damn. My head hurts. My stomach gurgles. How much did I drink yesterday? I remember speaking to my dad and ordering a beer at the brewery. And then I bought a case of twenty-four beers before coming home and drinking the rest of it.

Except for the beers Mercy emptied down the kitchen drain. I frown. Mercy. I remember her stopping by but it’s all kind of fuzzy. She’s probably pissed I broke my promise not to drink.

I better apologize to her. I snatch my phone from the night stand and send her a message.

Sorry about yesterday.

I tap my foot as I wait for her to answer. I check the time. She’s probably at work and can’t answer.

I throw on a pair of jeans and sweatshirt before making my way downstairs. I might as well get this bullshit with the band over in the meantime.

My bandmates are waiting for me in the living room. Fender is standing guard in front of the door with his arms crossed over his chest. Jett is pacing the floor. And Cash and Dylan are sitting on the couch whispering. They immediately stop when I walk in.

I ignore them and continue to the kitchen. I rummage in the drawers for some painkillers. I pop two in my mouth and swallow them with a glass of water. I hope these work quickly because I don’t want to deal with my band with this headache.

I take my time finding a mug and pouring a coffee. I debate making myself breakfast but my stomach rebels at the idea.

“Are you done delaying?” Cash asks when I enter the living room.

I shrug as I plop down on a chair.

“The band is officially on break,” Dylan declares.

I rub a hand through my hair. What is going on here?

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