Page 21 of Snared

And there was Charlie. Arms in the air, head back as she moved to the music. And that punk bassist was right behind her, pressed too close, his hand on her hip, right where mine should’ve been.

Whoa.

Back the fuck up.

I needed to ignore what was going on below me and find that waitress. But I couldn’t look away as Charlie turned to say something to him. She laughed, giving him a smile she never gave me.

Was I fucking jealous?

“They look pretty cozy,” Jax continued.

“Maybe. But nah, Charlie doesn’t date musicians,” Tristan said.

“Would you two like some tea to go with your gossip session?” I said with more bite than I’d intended.

“What’s up your ass, CH?” Jax tilted his head toward me, like a puppy being offered a treat. Abandoning the giggling girl on the small couch, Jax walked over to the railing to lean against it with Tristan and me.

“Nothing,” I muttered, sipping my whiskey. I should have knocked it back and headed back to the hotel, but like a glutton, I stayed. And stared.

Fucking hell.

Luckily, my phone rang, and I had an excuse to step away from the railing.

“Hey, Brooke. Everything good?” I asked.

“Yes. You wanted me to update you on Geoff when he got out of surgery,” my personal assistant replied.

“Right. And?” I found an empty lounge chair in the corner and sat down.

The idiot lead singer from one of my newly acquired bands had shattered his elbow when he’d tried flying off Cameron’s roof, requiring surgery once the swelling had gone down.

“Yes. Procedure went well and the cast shouldn’t hinder him from recording since we only need his voice, not his hands,” she deadpanned.

I bit back a chuckle. Brooke didn’t sympathize with the idiocies in this business and I appreciated that. Yes, we indulged our clients to an extent, but I wasn’t in the practice of coddling the bands we signed, and I made sure my staff felt the same way. Everyone in this business needed a thick skin to survive; that was the way it was.

After catching me up on a few details around the surgery, Brooke reminded me of a phone meeting I had in the morning with a company that wanted to use Steelwolf’s songs for a few ads and we wrapped up the call.

“Josh, you look very stern. You need to go shake your ass with us,” Cassie said, standing next to the bench seat where I sat, Bash beside her.

I pushed my empty whiskey glass aside and scanned the dance section, subtly shaking my head to the server’s gesture suggesting she’d grab me a refill.

“You can drink whiskey in front of me.” Bash never missed much of anything now that he was basically sober. His whiskey habit had been kicked to the curb over a year ago, for which I was grateful.

After Jamie’s death, Bash had sunk into a deep depression that I honestly wasn’t sure he’d escape. Chasing the pain with copious amounts of whiskey hadn’t done him any favors, but Cassie had been the catalyst to him changing his ways. They’d had some hiccups along the way, but everyone could see that she made him better.

A part of me was glad I was on this tour and could help provide some stability for Bash, make sure that he knew he had people to rely on rather than alcohol. We’d missed so much with Jamie, turning a blind eye more times than I could count and brushing it all off with the “he’ll be better after rehab” bullshit. I was going to do everything in my power to make sure that didn’t happen with Bash.

“I’m fine, man,” Bash said, his voice lower.

“I know, I know. It’s not like I need it either,” I replied, reaching for a bottle of water on the table in front of me.

“And how are you doing as tour bitch, Josh?” Cassie asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Fitting title,” I groused.

“Hey, I haven’t been bad,” Bash said.

“No, it’s the diva over there.” I gestured toward Jax, who currently had his tongue down Giggle Girl’s throat.

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