Page 57 of Rock Chick Bonus Tracks

“Take it up with her.” He jerked his head at the one he carded. “She got you ousted. Go.” When none of them moved, he warned, “I won’t say it again.”

The three of them studied him, wondering how far they could push it, considering they were all young, very pretty, and probably because of both, got their way a lot.

Thankfully, they were also smart because they got their asses in gear and took off.

But not before the first one requested, “Can I have my ID back?”

“Nope,” was Mace’s answer.

When they were gone, he went to the security guard at the door.

“I think I remember telling you to card every female that came in here, no matter what age they look,” he remarked.

“I did,” he returned, surly and combative.

Black Fat could put on a helluva tour.

But their choice in security sucked.

He held up the ID with two fingers a couple of inches from the guy’s face. “Can you not tell real from fake?”

“It’s a rock band, man. They don’t care real or fake, just as long as the date is right.”

“This band does.”

“No,youdo,” he shot back. “Bet Pong won’t be happy you kicked out the pussy he tagged as his for the night.”

Mace looked over his shoulder seeing what he knew he’d see.

Pong was still lounged in the armchair as he was before, but now three other women were there, and they were all clearly of age.

He turned back to the guard and lifted a brow.

The guy’s lip curled. “Dude, I know you’re a shit-hot PI. And I know you’re bangin’ Stella. But bottom line, you’re just a rock star’s boyfriend.”

Mace stood very still.

“Fired,” Stella sing-songed as she walked in.

Stella was always late to the dressing room at the end of a gig. That’s because she gave time to young women who were studying music and entered local competitions for the privilege.

Floyd gave that time with her.

The rest of the band, considering the girls were always minors, headed straight to the dressing room.

She stopped to reach up and kiss Mace’s jaw. She gave him a smile.

Then she ignored the security guy and strutted into the dressing room, right to the vat filled with bottles of Fat Tire.

“Think Stella stated the case,” Floyd, now standing close to Mace, added. “You’re fired, bud. Get outta here.”

“Pain in the ass diva bullshit,” the guy groused, locking eyes with Mace. “No skin off my nose.”

“Before I take the skin of your entire face, motherfucker, get the fuck out,” Hugo called. “Jesus, where do they find these guys?” he asked the room at large. “It’s like amateur hour.”

The security guard’s face got red.

Mace got close.

---