Page 3 of Worth the Trouble

A blush spreads like a wildfire on her neck because it’s too fucking easy for me to get a reaction. It’s what I’m good at—pushing people to their limits. Finding the line that keeps them comfortable and forcing them one step over it.

I’d pretend to give a shit, but what’s the point? I do what I want, I say what I want, I fuck who I want.

Over the reporter’s shoulder, Adrian shoots me a glare, telling me he’s not impressed with my comment.

Guy is such a buzzkill lately. You’d think getting regular pussy would put him in a better mood, but apparently not. He’s always stressed out and hyper-aware of everything I do.

Play nice, he told me as I walked into this interview room. Like I’m a child who needs watching. Sitting here now, I can feel the imaginary leash around my neck tightening.

Not sure why when I’ve been good lately—boring even. Acting like a grown-ass man trying to help these punks start a record label. Lately, they’ve had nothing to worry about. I’m not in the mood.

You’re losing your mind.

“I’m sorry—” the reporter stutters.

Her eyebrows pinch and it’s cute. But still, my dick feels nothing. Something is definitely wrong with me.

“Joking.” I force a smile, noticing Adrian’s shoulders relax from across the room, even if he knows it’s a façade.

I’d like to flip off everyone in this room and tell them all I didn’t become a rock star—the Riff King—to play nice. But I’m not in the mood for a lecture later, so I hold my forced grin.

“Cage the Elephant,” I answer the reporter’s question. “Their music got me into it.”

“The band?”

I nod. “Listened to a lot of music growing up, but something about them—consider me inspired.”

The reporter is satisfied enough with my answer to smile and move on to Eloise for the next question. I gave her what she was looking for—something that sounds nice on paper, even if it’s not the truth.

The real reasons I got into music wouldn’t be feel-good enough for her story, so I doubt she’d actually want to hear them.

What I don’t tell her is that music is the only home I had growing up. Because housing, people, schools, and belongings were interchangeable. They could be given and taken in a heartbeat.

But songs stayed. In my head. In my bones. They gave me a place to live—to disappear into—when everything else fell apart.

Music was what kept me sane. It’s what kept me from telling Dad to just pull the trigger already when he put his rifle to my head.

I didn’t need possessions or friends or a roof as long as I had the beat. I didn’t even need a family. Or so I thought. Until Sebastian and Eloise bulldozed into my life and took me in as some kind of unofficial stepbrother and bandmate.

They grew up in a rough enough situation themselves that they didn’t need to ask what was wrong to know something just was.

They invited me to crash at their place once, then twice, then every night. They gave me a spot in the world before I knew what having one meant. And they gave me music. If for no other reason than that simple fact, I’ll always owe them.

But I’m not telling this prissy reporter any of that shit. She can accept my candid response and move on to the next question—which she does.

The string of interviews is endless. If it weren’t for Eloise and Noah, I’m honestly not sure how we’d survive it. Sebastian looks just as bored as I am, on top of being distracted by Cassie laughing and flipping her pink hair over her shoulder in the corner.

At least the reporters don’t notice or care because they go on with their questions like it’s any other day. They accept my half-assed responses and fall for Noah’s smiles and Eloise’s rock princess act.

Fuck all this noise.

When the interviews finally wrap, I feel like I’m barely able to sit still.

Hopefully, tonight is the night I can get out of my head long enough to break this seventeen-day celibacy streak because a bottle of whiskey and a couple of strippers are the only thing that sounds halfway decent at this moment.

“Who’s down to go out?” I ask as the band walks outside.

Cassie has already wrapped herself around Sebastian and he’s twirling a pink tip from her blonde hair around his finger, so I know he’s not in.

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