Page 95 of Second Sets Omnibus
I’m so fucking tired of everyone thinking they can take whatever the hell they want from me. I’ve fought too hard for far too long to carve my way into this world. I won’t let some pissant fuckboy take what he wants again and again.
I’m fucking done. So, I do the only thing I can.
Flicking open my knife, I wildly stab wherever I can reach, basking in the roar of agony right before my entire world shuts down and I fall deep into the shadows of my mind.
Something…is wrong. Something feels out of fucking whack. If you asked me what, though. I have no fucking clue. An urgent alarm desperately claws at the back of my mind, nagging at me. For some fucking reason, and I can’t put my finger on it. Everyone I love sits before me, de-stressing after our third show in a row. River has put us through the fucking ringer, with gigs almost every night this week, exhausting us to the max. But it’s so damn worth it. Our rock star dreams rest at the tips of our fingers, finally in grasp.
“That show was badass!” Rad says with a grin, guzzling down a bottle of water twenty minutes after the performance.
Sweat pours from every inch of his glistening body, dripping off the long ends of his mullet. He groans, standing in front of the oscillating fan, opening the fly of his jeans.
“For the love of God, please keep your dick in your pants,” I groan with exhaustion, leaning against the wall for support.
“The little Rads are hot as hell! I have swamp dick—Swamp. Dick, Asher. They’re basically cooking in my jeans. My chestnutsare roasting! So, unless I want cooked swimmers, I need to cool them off,” Rad scoffs at me, pulling his jeans and boxers down, exposing himself for the fucking world to see. “Ah, that’s the stuff right there,” he mumbles, wiggling his ass around and allowing the air to flow to his fucking flapping dick blowing in the breeze.
“Your ass is disgusting,” Kieran barks, slapping a hand across his butt cheek, rippling the skin, and leaving an angry red welt behind on his pasty skin.
“Oh, baby! Do it again!” Rad howls, locking his hands behind his head. “Ah, this is freedom,” he groans with relief, arching his back.
“How the hell did we get to this?” I mumble, closing my eyes, so I don’t have to stare at his dimply ass while sliding down the wall. I swear the dude can’t keep his pants on to save his life. Every chance he gets, he drops trou and lets his dick fly free. Must be nice to have no restraints. But someone has to keep him in line.
We’ve been dead on our feet since we walked backstage into the darkened space dedicated to the talent. It’s small, shabby, and fucking gross. Shifting my weight, my nose wrinkles when my pants stick to the floor. Don’t they ever clean this place? Shit. Images of River frantically cleaning every inch of this place, runs through my mind. Hell, she probably hasn’t been back here to clean, because she’s working her life away and killing herself here.
Taking a deep breath, I revel in the surrounding nothingness—no noises, shouting crowd, and most importantly, no groupies shoving their titties in our faces. This moment of silence gives us time to unwind after such a killer performance. All these gigs are starting to wear us down, but we don’t have time to stop. We’re persevering and fucking rocking this shit before we hit enter and submit our talent for the most prestigious record company inthe US. In the future, this could be our life. Performance after performance. City after fucking city on a tour bus filled with Rad’s naked ass. Okay, maybe not that. Shivers of disgust roll through me, envisioning him running naked everywhere. And now I need bleach for my brain.
“If I never have to see your dick again, it’d be a good day,” Callum murmurs, tossing his head back and sighing with a grin.
“Agreed,” Kieran snaps, running a towel over his face and neck, soaking up the sweat dripping down his skin, grinding his teeth. He closes his eyes, taking several deep breaths, trying to reign in his after-performance anger. I swear it’s what got us into this whole debacle, anyway.
If he hadn’t banged River, well—we wouldn’t be here or on our way to California. Sure, we could have gotten someone else to record our videos or gotten us more gigs. River’s been a saint through this whole thing—a dangerous saint, leading us down a path we can’t come back from. Doubt seeps into my mind, infecting my runaway thoughts with insidious ideas. Some days I wonder if we’re taking the right road with her. Looking around the room, I gaze at the faces of my brothers’. Happiness radiates from every inch of them. But is it from our performance? Or the woman who supplied us with this opportunity? Because of her, we’re here. One question repeats in my mind over and over again. Do we actually want to bring her to California? Since River came into the picture, our band dynamic has drastically changed. But for the good? Or bad? How much more damage can she inflict before we implode and throw our dreams away?
Internally, I groan, running a hand down my face. River brings nothing but a whirl of confusion, storming inside me and pulling me in different directions. She’s this… annoying gnat, yet beautiful little brat who I want to choke… with my cock so she can’t utter another witty remark. She’s… getting way too into our heads—especially mine.
The crowd beyond the black curtain’s loud chatter slowly fades away into nothing but crickets. Looking at my phone, I note it’s almost closing time. Just on cue, the bubbly little bartender’s voice rings through the system, telling everyone to get the fuck out, and they comply. Soon, we’re left in comfortable silence. But in the quiet, something still nags the back of my mind, and looking around, I notice the missing piece who trails after us like a desperate groupie—River.
“I swear to God, bitch, if you’re back here sucking dick,” shouts Ode, the bubbly bartender, right before she rips open the curtain and sticks her head in with a frown. “Well, not sucking dick,” she says, shaking her head. “But someone certainly has their hairy ass out,” she quips, looking the room over. “You four seen your girlfriend?” she asks, raising a brow.
Rad grins, pulling up his boxers and pants and turning around. “I’m glad someone else finally admits that she’s my girlfriend!” he says with way too much enthusiasm. “But wait. Where is River?” he asks, making my fucking heart skip a beat.
Something is wrong… Something is off, and it smacks me in the damn face. River isn’t here to annoy me.
“That’s what I’m fucking asking. Come out, come out wherever you are, bitch!” she yells jokingly, but I see the worry sitting behind her dark eyes as they crinkle when she doesn’t get an answer. Her fingers tighten into fists as her eyes flash around the room, and she huffs. “I haven’t seen her since she took the trash out. I swore I saw her come back in…” she trails off, looking toward the single window blocked out by a blackout curtain, only letting a sliver of light come through the split down the middle.
“What do you mean she went outside at one in the fucking morning to dump the trash?” Kieran barks, jumping to his fucking feet like a mad dog with his nostrils flaring as he marches toward her. The only thing stopping him is my hand on his heaving chest.
“Cool your shit,” I hiss through clenched teeth, side-eyeing him. “You’re in—fuck shit up and ask questions later—mode right now.”
“I said what I said. River is a big girl despite you treating her like a fucking baby. She did what she always does every night. You’d all probably shit your pants if you knew she’s walked home at three in the morning more times than I can count. You all know better than I do. That woman does whatever the fuck she wants to and…” Ode pales when a light flashes between the sliver of the curtain, lighting the room up in reds and blues. “What the fuck!” She shrieks with urgency, marching toward the side door, and slams out of it with a cry.
Kieran doesn’t waste a single moment stomping out the door after her. It isn’t until I hear the roar of his anger do I pile out the door with Callum and Rad on my tail. Only, we don’t make it too far and come to an abrupt stop, freezing on the spot. Every muscle in my body locks tight. My eyes dart around, taking in the scene with a critical eye.
Numerous police officers stalk the alleyway with their heads down, moving up and down with critical eyes. One points to the ground, shaking his head as they follow the trail. On further inspection, my breath leaves my lungs and I’m left gasping for oxygen. Two officers walk along a dark red trail of blood leading out of the alley and onto the street. And that’s where I see him, cowering in the shadows with a pale face and vacant expression—fucking Donavan Drake.
“What the fuck?” I murmur with outrage, watching with wide, horrified eyes as the scene gets worse and worse by the second.
“Oh-oh no,” Callum cries out in a quivering voice. Covering his mouth, Callum frantically shakes his head and forces his eyes closed—removing himself from the situation mentally.
“It’ll be okay, Cal,” Rad murmurs through a crack in his voice with the reassurance I’m sure he doesn’t feel. Slowly, he rubs circles on Callum’s back in a soothing manner, whispering barely audible words, hoping to soothe his grief.
