Page 15 of Room Ten: Put on a Show

Do you think you can handle three cocks, darling? Will that finally be enough to satisfy you and that big appetite of yours? Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance to ride all three of us tonight.

“Kenna?” Troy’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I glanced up, my glass held against my chest, my other arm draped around his shoulder.

“You looked like you were a thousand miles away,” he added. “Where did you go just now in that pretty head of yours?”

Wanting what I can’t have.

How ironic that I had everything in the world I could ever desire. With the snap of my fingers, all I had to do was say the word and it was mine. People would rush to do my bidding, eager to please me.

Except for Baron and Merrick.

I held up my empty glass even though I didn’t remember draining it dry.

“I was thinking that I could use a refill.”

Troy took my glass as his hand curved over my hip and smoothed down my ass.

“Be right back,” he murmured against my ear before heading toward the bar.

There was something comforting about his devil-may-care attitude, especially under the giant microscope of the public eye. His articles about my life were never scathing and always informative, unlike other gossip columnists who wanted nothing more than to tear me down and feast on my blood.

But did I love him?

I didn’t know how to answer that question. My relationship history was long and varied, and every break up was an explosive one. Too many men wanted to control me, control my life and it set my teeth on edge. I built this life for myself onmyvoice. I sang in bars and on street corners for pennies, rain or shine, with only my guitar for company even when no one else believed in me. I wouldn’t let anyone dictate what I was allowed to do.

Why don’t you take more than one lover?

Troy didn’t seek to control me though. He opened doors for me rather than closing them. He saw my craving for more—more attention, more sex, more music, more of everything—and he encouraged me to indulge rather than starve to make myself smaller.

Just as Troy turned away from the bar with two fresh drinks in hand, someone bumped into me. Ice cold, sticky alcohol sloshed down my front, soaking my thin, lingerie-like top until it was see-through.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

A waiter in a Dizzy Pop shirt shoved his now-empty tray under his arm and reached out. He faltered just short of touching me when he realized his hands were about an inch away from pawing at my breasts.

“Don’t even think about it, buddy.”

Troy shouldered his way to my side, pushing the waiter to take a step back. He’d abandoned our drinks somewhere since his hands were now empty.

“I didn’t see her—” the waiter started.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll just go clean up. Could you point me in the direction of the restroom?”

The waiter looked dismayed, as if he wanted to babble more apologies, but he lifted his arm and gestured toward a sign on the far side of the room.

As I started moving in that direction, I noticed Merrick had plowed a path halfway toward me already with concern etched between his dark eyebrows. I lifted my hand, signaling,stand down, no harm done.

With Troy’s arm anchored around my waist, he pushed his way into the men’s room.

“Out,” he barked.

I raised my eyebrows at his commanding tone. He was usually so charming and genial. Baron and Merrick were the ones who barked orders while Troy smooth-talked his way around the rules and past security.

When the few men in the restroom glanced at each other in confusion, Troy raised his voice.

“I said, get out. Are you fucking deaf? Move.”

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