Page 100 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

“No, just smart enough to take out the binoculars when a train wreck is about to happen.” Cooper coughed into his fist when Oz shot him a look.

“We can’t lose our edge. If this gets in the paps, even better.” Oz scribbled something on the piece of paper and attached it to the bass. “Comped the fuckers some tickets for the next show. Told them to give their name at will call and ask for me. Let’s see what kind of balls they’ve got.”

Jamie crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “Shriveled, most likely. What are you going to do with that? Deliver it to their door?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Oz stood and grinned, his devilish eyes telling me I should step in and remind him of our sterling rep in the business.

But I didn’t feel like playing anyone’s mommy tonight. Not even my own.

“Better think up some good spin.” I set my cup on a table without taking the last few sips. Clearly, I’d had enough.

Oz’s antics had been a distraction, but only for a couple of minutes. Reality was slamming down on the back of my neck, heavier than ever.

I could be weepy when I was sober. I didn’t need to add a fading buzz to make it worse.

“Lindz.” Jamie took the magazine out of my hand. Here I’d thought she wasn’t paying attention to me. “Who cares what they write in that shitty mag? They don’t get anything right. Besides, they couldn’t see enough of her hair to make sure.” She tugged on a strand of mine. “But I’ve been blinded by this mop for years.”

It made me laugh hard enough that tears popped into my eyes. Ugh. I wasn’t drinking again anytime soon. My belly was sloshing uncomfortably, and I wasn’t sure it was just from the alcohol.

Or what media nightmare might await me in the morning when Darcy got wind of Oz’s behavior.

“Can we talk? Alone?” I asked softly, waiting for Jamie to say something rude, crude, or to shut the door on me entirely. Any option was possible right now.

She stared at me for a long moment before pursing her lips and nodding. “Yeah. Let’s blow this penthouse stand.”

I laughed too loudly. “Have you been watching those seventies’ cop shows again?”

“Again? When did I ever stop? Pfft.”

“Hang on, hang on. This’ll just take a sec, and we gotta be united as a group,” Oz glanced around at the assembled members of Warning Sign and their significant others, “as our groups,” he amended. “Joint front and all that.”

“Oz—” I began.

“Oh, Christ, Lindz, live a little, would you? Maybe remember now and then that we’re motherfucking rockstars, not some sanitized group that’s bound for weekend shows in Vegas.”

While I stared, Oz marched over to open the French doors and strolled onto our patio, which overlooked a larger lower level of the hotel. He hoisted the bass high over his head as he peered down. “Perfect. The hot tub on their balcony is nice and bubbly.”

Mal joined him. “How do you know that belongs to the person who complained?”

“Because the scarf-wearing asshole confronted me in the lobby an hour ago when I went down to grab me some prophylactics.” Oz scratched his chest through his leather vest. “He advised me we were being far too loud, which brassed him off while he and his chick soaked in their hot tub. Because the swanky long-term stay suites one floor beneath us weren’t good enough for him since we’d had the audacity to take the penthouse. Poor baby.” Oz pumped the bass guitar as if he was lifting weights. “Guess they finished their hot water groping. Must be napping now. This should wake them up.”

Teagan gripped her elbows. “I’m not sure this is the best idea.”

I wasn’t either. Then again, we were motherfucking rockstars. Oz was a grown man. Very grown, and nearly busting out of his skintight jeans.

Jamie retrieved her bag and hauled me to my feet. “C’mon. Let the idiots have their fun. Doesn’t mean we have to see it.”

I was still buzzing, but just barely. No alcohol was strong enough to kill my relentless thoughts for long. Watching Oz act like a jackass would be sure to send me the rest of the way from floaty to pissy.

“Right.” I blew out a breath and grabbed my purse near the door.

We made it to the hall just as Oz let out a war whoop over the sound of a distant splash.

Jamie sighed. “Why wasn’t I born a lesbian? Is it too late to develop a taste for kitten?”

“The kind without fur, I hope.”

“Of course.” She sashayed down the hall to our suite at the far end.

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