Grip Trilogy Box Set

Do I really want to do this? All these years I haven’t talked about this with Rhyson. After the drama with my almost-ex-girl- friend/close-call baby mama, Bristol wanted to put that week behind us, including not telling Rhyson about it. It was kind of awkward anyway, so at first, I was cool with that. Now it just seems stupid that he doesn’t know after all these years.

“Bristol doesn’t like the song because it’s about her.” I run my hand over the coolness of my scalp, half-expecting to encounter locs hanging down to my shoulder. “The song, it’s about us.”

We’ve reached the building’s underground parking garage. As soon as he steps off the elevator, he stops abruptly.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Genuine confusion clouds his expression. “When did you ever kiss Bristol at the top of a Ferris wheel? Is that like a metaphor?”

“No. Dude, I literally kissed your sister at the top of the Ferris wheel.”

Rhyson looks torn between losing his lunch and punching me in the face. This might actually make the awkwardness worth it.

“When was this?” he demands. “You and Bristol? Is this recent?”

“No, when she was here for spring break. Remember we went to that carnival?” I sigh. “Don’t worry. It hasn’t happened again. Unless you count last night.”

“Last night?” Rhyson’s mouth falls open a little, even as he starts moving in the direction of the Porsche Cayenne in his parking spot. “What the hell? Tell me.”

I may be enjoying this too much. Rhyson always has his shit together, so seeing him thrown for a loop is rare and wondrous. To be the cause of it, even better.

“I left my bag here yesterday, and she brought it by my place last night.” I pat the hood and deliberately turn to leave, not actually expecting to get very far. “Well, I know you’re in a hurry so—”

“Marlon.” Rhyson leans against the SUV with his arms folded and a frown on his face. “Cut the crap. Talk.”

“We kissed.” I lean beside him against his car and shrug. “That’s it. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” He lifts a skeptical brow.

“For now.” I grin as salaciously as I dare considering Bristol is his sister. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“Let that shit go.” Rhyson blows out an exasperated breath. “I don’t want this affecting your working relationship at such a crucial time. Your album’s about to drop, and Bristol’s hand is in every aspect of it. If you pursue this, it could get awkward. We can’t afford awkward right now.”

His phone rings with his own song “Lost”, Kai’s ring tone. “Damn.” He glances at the screen. “That’s Kai. Probably wondering where I am. She’ll feel better if I’m in motion.”

“Then by all means get in motion.” I step back when he starts the car and pulls out of the space, driver side window still down.

“Don’t forget what I said about Bristol, okay?” He gives me one last worried look.

“What? You mean to go for it?” I ask, hoping to see some hackles rise. “Got it.”

“Not go for it. Did you not hear a word I . . .” He studies my face and must see the humor there. “Screw you. You know I’m right. Leave it alone.”

Leave it alone.

That’s what my mom used to say when I’d pick at my scabs. She warned me it would only take longer to heal, but it was a compulsion, a fascination. It’s the same way with Bristol. I’ve been pulling this scab off over and over for years.

If I have to leave her alone for this to get better, maybe I don’t want it to heal.

Chapter 6

BRISTOL

/> “YOU’VE DONE A great job with everything, Bristol.”

The praise comes from Will, Qwest’s manager, as we check the set list for tonight.

“Thanks,” I murmur without looking away from the document detailing the songs and cues for the performance Qwest and Grip will give soon. “Are your rooms okay?”

“That would be an understatement.” His dark eyes laugh at me when I finally look up. “The Presidential Suite at The Park-LA is a little over the top, wouldn’t you say?”