Page 25 of Filthy Sweet

“You like those sweet ones, huh?”

I scowl and throw the coffee back, swallowing it even though it’s too hot. I consider telling her that the thing with Owen is just for appearances, but that doesn’t quite feel honest, either.

Whatever’s happening between Owen and me, I need to get my fucking head around it, fast.

Mare laughs and holds her hands up. “How could I forget? You don’t talk about that kind of thing. I have to wait and read it in the paper with everyone else.”

“Very funny.”

On the way out, I run into the owner of the recording studio, Britt, a total industry schmoozer. But he’s a nice enough guy despite it, and the proprietor of a major rock club here in Seattle, too, so he’s become extremely well-connected over the years.

“Fox,” he says, and the sun shines on his bald head. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

I rock back on my heel. “Oh yeah?”

“You know my new girlfriend, Lily?”

“Sure,” I lie.

“And her club, The Rose Throne?”

“Right,” I say, although I’ve never heard of it.

“Great. Well, there’s a party there tomorrow night. Invite only. It will be unforgettable.”

I start walking away. “Sorry. Can’t.”

“After the newspaper, I understand.”

I turn to face him again. “What?”

He chuckles, and it’s not entirely friendly. “Well, your label must have you on a short leash, right? Early curfew these days?”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Just too busy for your party,” I tell him, then turn on my heel and continue on my way.

I try to ignore the brief encounter, but unfortunately, his words get under my skin. I’d rather fucking choke on a Butterfly Susan record than have everyone in this town think I’ve become another industry stooge, following the orders of my label.

I could just make an appearance at the club. It would give me an excuse to hit up Owen, but that’s dangerous. I’m already thinking about him all the time, and now that he told me that story about licking his cum, I can’t get the pretty picture out of my head.

Sticky cum all over his lips and his delicate fingers… I shudder.

“Shit.” I kick the pavement. “Shit. Fuck. Shit.”

I hop on my bike; then my phone vibrates.

Owen:Hey! Hope you’re having a good week at the label! I just wanted to say thanks again for bringing me to the concert! I had so much fun being your fake boyfriend for the night!

He used an exclamation point after every sentence. I can hear his gentle, happy voice, and it tightens my chest.

Fox:You’re sweet. Thanks for coming. There’s an industry party tomorrow night, if you’re looking for something else to do.

Owen:Oh yeah?

Owen:I don’t think I have anything to wear to a rock star party, though. But thanks!

I kick on the engine, debating another bad idea. When I can’t resist myself, I open up a different text to Owen’s brother, searching for a way out of this, a buffer to keep me in line.

Fuck, I think I need a chaperone for when I’m with my chaperone.

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