Page 59 of Heart Break Her

“Now you.” Adrian’s eyes find Rome.

Rome leans back with his hands behind his head and a shit-eating grin on his face. “What the fuck did I do? You’re mad about a little coke? Come on, Adrian, if I remember correctly, you were standing right there beside me snorting that shit off a random chick’s tits a few years ago.”

Adrian’s eyes dart to Eloise so fast I almost miss it, and her neck flushes the faintest bit red. It’s no secret Adrian and Eloise have always had something unspoken between the two of them. I don’t think they’ve fucked, but Eloise doesn’t talk about relationships, so I really have no clue. I’m just glad that, whatever it is, they didn’t pursue it. He’s our manager, and it would get messy as fuck if the two of them couldn’t keep it professional.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Adrian says, eyes back on Rome. “Anabelle Mason.”

“Who?” Rome’s tone matches the unimpressed look on his face.

“The girl claiming she’s pregnant with your baby.”

“Holy shit,” Noah laughs, sitting back down on the couch beside me and slapping his leg. “And we thought Sebastian was being an idiot with his dick.”

I reach over and smack Noah on the back of the head.

“What?” Noah laughs, stretching his legs out.

He looks ready to watch our lives fall apart like it’s his favorite movie. Noah might be the most obnoxious of the group, but out of all the guys in the band, he manages to stay out of trouble for the most part. It helps that he’s been sober for almost a year and so he tends to be the most levelheaded when shit hits the fan.

“It’s not my kid,” Rome says, giving Adrian a deadpan expression. “I wrap my shit up one hundred percent of the time.”

“Because condoms areone hundred percenteffective?” Eloise asks, glaring at him.

“Sorry I’m not over here re-virginizing myself like you are, princess,” Rome shoots back.

I grab a pillow off the couch and throw it at his head. “That’s my fucking sister, dickhead.”

Rome just shrugs and Eloise goes back to whatever she’s doing on her phone.

“We’re working with her lawyers to schedule a paternity test,” Adrian says, ignoring the tantrums playing out in front of him like always. “Until then, be good. And watch your mouth in interviews. If this kid is yours—"

“It’s not.”

“If it is,” Adrian says again, “Quinn and I are already putting together a plan. We’ll talk about how to handle the PR if and when that happens.”

Rome grinds his teeth, looking thoroughly irritated.

Way to go as usual, Adrian. Walk into a room and piss off the whole fucking band in one conversation.

“Anything else, Mr. Fucking Sunshine?” Noah asks, lifting an eyebrow and saying what we’re all thinking.

If I wasn’t so annoyed with Adrian, I’d actually feel bad for him. It can’t be easy dealing with the four of us—well, three of us, since Eloise keeps her shit under control. It’s not his fault he’s always the one stuck cleaning up our messes. But that’s what we pay him for. And we pay him a lot.

“One more thing,” Adrian says, and every pair of eyes except the ones in Eloise’s head rolls. “The label is putting together the schedule for the next album as we speak, so I’ll have that to you soon. Four weeks left on this tour and then we hit the studio. After that, they’re planning to send you guys to Europe to hype the next album.”

“Good thing I planned on sleeping when I’m dead,” Eloise says, giving her input in this conversation for the first time.

Lately, she’s been more vocal about the fact that the label gives us barely any time off. And I’m not sure if it’s that she’s actually tired, or just tired of us.

Adrian ignores her comment. “I’ll get you the schedule as soon as I have it. Now get some rest. We go straight to the venue tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Noah mocks him with a thumbs up as Adrian disappears into the back once more with his phone.

“Buzzkill took my coke,” Rome says.

I reach into my pocket and throw a joint at him. “Chill the fuck out.”

He lights it up, and I rest my head back and close my eyes. Four weeks left of this tour and then onto the next thing. And then the next. I used to not mind. Staying in motion meant less time I had to think about all the fucked-up shit in my head. I liked that we were always go, go, going.

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