Page 31 of Creed

I ignore Ritz who is literally bouncing in his seat and look over at Riley who swallows nervously, his throat bobbing several times over. I hook my arm around the back of his neck and pull him close to speak into his ear so only he can hear me. “You good, Ri?”

His brown eyes are as wide as saucers with a half-terrified expression and he huffs a nervous laugh. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I’ve just never been to anything like…this, before.” He gestures lazily around the room.

T hears him and leans over me—right in my fucking personal space—and slaps a drunken hand on Riley’s chest.

“Then you’re in for a fuckin’ treat, my boy! Wait til you see this chick. She’s fuckin…mmm.” He groans and bites his fist and grabs his crotch suggestively. “I bet she gives fuckin’ phenomenal happy endings, ya know?”

“No, Ritz, I don’t know.” I say dryly. “And don’t you fucking dare try to pay for one either. I’ll beat your ass. We need to keep a good image, asswipe.” Tony has the nerve to look dejected but I don’t give a shit. I ignore his pouting and turn back to Riley. “You good? We’ll get the fuck out of here if you wanna go home.”

“No,” Riley swallows before offering a placating smile. “I’m good.”

I lean in and plant a kiss on his temple and his body visibly relaxes before I release him and sit back in my seat, taking a sip of whiskey. Bear appears next to him a few minutes later and greets each of us with a tight smile and a nod before focusing on the stage. He looks like this is the last place on earth he wants to be and I can’t say I blame him. I’m fucking tired.

Tony starts to open his mouth to say something to Bear, but he shoots him a glare that shuts him up at the same time the lights suddenly dim and a bright pinkish-red spotlight shines center stage. I’m momentarily stupefied when one of our more sultry tracks, Malevolent Melodies starts to play. The song is heavy on the bass and drums, the sound rattling your chest with each beat that has your heart beating harder, filling you with a sense of anticipation that’s honestly just fucking sexy. I see out of the corner of my eye that Riley is practically beaming at the song choice, his thumbs tapping at his thighs along with the rhythm of the song. He’s been touring and recording with our band for years, but he still reacts like a kid on Christmas morning whenever he hears our songs on the radio.

The crowd cheers when the curtain starts to part and my attention then homes in on the back of the woman who’s just been slowly revealed. I haven’t seen her face, but she’s got the most spectacular curves and muscular pale legs that go on for fucking days, thanks to the boots she’s wearing. She’s wearing an emerald green, thick strappy lingerie set that accentuates the hourglass shape of her hips and that juicy peach of an ass. Long, fire engine red hair falls straight down her back, the whole look is giving sexy Poison Ivy vibes. She starts to wrap the suspended silks around her wrists and up her arms, showcasing the tone of her muscles in her back and shoulders.

Just that one movement has my dick twitching behind my jeans.

Okay then.

This may be exactly what I need to take my mind off of all the shit going through it lately.

My lips pull into a slow grin and I stretch myself out to relax even deeper into the bench.

I hear my own voice carry throughout the room as the first verse starts to build and she begins twisting and turning, flipping her body artfully as she winds her way to the top. The way she moves is mesmerizing. She’s a siren and I’m the bewitched.

I know, I fucking know I won’t be able to get enough of her, and I find myself wondering just how much it would cost to get more private dances from her because this performance?

Just isn’t enough.

Brandi comes by with another bottle of whiskey and by the time she walks away again, I’ve managed to secure four more private dances from her.

Hey, I bought them without the happy endings, okay?

Pouring myself two fingers of whiskey, I bring the glass to my lips and savor the burn as it slides down my throat.

Finally starting to loosen up and abandon my problems, my sights are focused on the siren who just settled herself near the ceiling, all wrapped up in silks. Though I doubt she can see us through the spotlight, I swear it’s like she’s looking right at me when her lips quirk up to blow a sultry kiss to the crowd before tipping her head back.

And then she fucking drops.

Oh, fuck. Let the show begin.

Chapter 15

Collins

(AGE 20)

I’m sitting in the makeshift dressing room, brushing through the long hair of my red wig when my phone rings. It’s weird because everyone who has my number is either here or is my brother. The latter hasn’t contacted me in years, so it can’t be him. I unblocked Creed but have made no attempt to contact him. I couldn’t bear another voicemail from him, begging me to let him help me from my situation.

At first it was anger and pride that kept me from letting him in. Now it’s embarrassment and shame that holds me at bay. I won’t let Creed get mixed up in my business or allow my name and the trouble attached to it to try to cling to him, too.

I’m running behind on getting ready, so I ignore it because if I lose concentration I’ll end up yanking the wig out of place and it takes entirely too long to reset the hairline.

Like I said, I’m already running late for the second set of the night because my boss, Tank—great name, I know—spent thirty minutes yelling at me and counting out the cash I’d made so he could take “his half” and then some. I started to argue when he took even more money from my stack, but I was blinded by the sharp pain of him backhanding me across my cheek that sent me sprawling across the floor of the backstage hallway.

Why? He’s pissed at me because I’d kicked a man—sorry, a valuable member, apparently—square in his fucking chest and knocked him flat on his ass when he tried to grab me three separate times on while onstage.

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