Page 35 of Filthy Rock Stars

Mare might be the biggest rock star in the world right now, but bizarrely, I feel totally comfortable and at home on the stage with her.

“Take it from the top?” she says to Case, and without another thought, we slip into a song, and I lose myself in the music.

CHAPTERTEN

SHADOW

“What the fuck is this?”Elle rages, her phone in her hand. “How has this been viewed two million times?”

The viral video isn’t even good quality. It’s at a weird angle, tilted sideways, and the person keeps shaking it between Mare on the stage and the heckler in the back of the pub. You can’t see the rest of the band, just glimpses of their drummer Case, but Mare’s unforgettable voice is crisp and clear as she rips us.

“I don’t know,” I say flatly. “Maybe people like watching your annoying feud blow up in your face?”

Adrian grunts. Forbidden Destiny is at the loft, supposedly to write more songs, although we’ve already wasted an hour sitting around and talking about this shit. The feud and the few fans who act like that heckler make me embarrassed to be a part of this band.

That’s one good part of keeping things anonymous with Prince. He’d probably think I was a dick if he knew I was part of this rivalry.

“Listen,” Adrian says, his deep voice tight with annoyance. “Have you seen our sales the past few weeks? Elle is right. This is paying off. Big time.”

I turn to Cutter. “Oh wow. Did you hear that? Adrian thinks Elle is right. I guess that puts me in my place.”

“That’s it,” Elle says. She’s breathing out her nose, a tell she’s really about to lose it. “We’re putting out a diss track.”

“Fuck that.” I stand up. “Hell no. That is some immature shit, Elle. Grow up.”

Adrian glares at me before he turns to Elle. “That riff Shadow wrote for ‘Broken Guardian’ would be killer. We didn’t get to use it in the song, but it’s got that cocky energy he’s so good at.”

“Hell yeah,” Elle agrees. “That riff is destined for a diss track.”

I grab my jacket from the back of the couch. “And you’re destined to make bigger and bigger asses out of yourselves until you’re washed up has-beens. Isn’t life funny that way?”

“Are you leaving already?” Cutter asks.

I turn to Elle and Adrian. “Are you seriously going to write a diss track?” I ask flatly.

“Yup,” Adrian answers, digging in with a smug smile.

I shrug. “Then I’m out of here. And if you really do release a diss track, I’ll start recording your farts and sharing them with the world.” I raise my voice, forcing a friendly tone to piss the happy couple off. “Have fun acting like teenage bullies!””

I’m out the door and on my bike, cruising home. My old friends used to be the underdogs, but now they’re punching from the top, and it’s not cute. Money and fame have twisted them, but I’m more frustrated and pissed at myself.

I keep thinking about what Prince would say. When he learns who I am, which is probably inevitable, is he going to hate me? They say you can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep. With my family and my band, it’s looking bleak.

Prince, Prince, Prince. He’s all I can think about.

This is why there are limits on what we’re doing. Rules. Prince is a fantasy, an escape from the real me and my messy life. Soon enough, I’ll be back to fucking strangers across the world, quick and dirty release, real rock-star style.

Even if I do want something more, I couldn’t do that to Prince. I couldn’t drag him into the reality of the spotlight and the tabloids. It’s one reason I never date in the first place. I sleep in hotels more often than in my loft, and nights out always end in a mob of fans.

I might not know much about Prince, but I’m pretty sure he would hate that life.

It’s starting to rain when I get back to my place. I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows and stare at Elliot Bay and the dark clouds rolling across the choppy water. My crap is scattered around the spacious, open loft. A beaten old couch here, a ridiculously high-tech TV set up there, my instruments in a far corner. I’ve got a pool table and some pinball machines, drunk impulse purchases for myself one Christmas, and I had a fancy-ass kitchen installed. But this place used to be a whole garment company, and much of the massive space is still empty, quiet.

I feel like a piece of shit.

My entire family and my hometown treat me like heroes. I’ve got money coming out my ears. People all over the world adore me.

And I’m a broody piece of shit about it, punishing myself over a man I can never have.

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