The Player (Chicago Bratva 8)

She’s still holding my phone propped on her knee. I’d forgotten she was live streaming this whole time.

“Try the hook again–I have an idea,” Story says. I start over, and she adds some bad-ass chords in the background as I sing and play the chorus.

“Yes!” I send her a grin as I continue playing. This is the advantage of working with family. Story and I have literally been raised on music together. We both learned to play guitar before we could read, and we have an insane repertoire to draw from.

This is my joy–the place I feel most at home. Most me. Is it any wonder I don’t want to fuck this up by getting ambitious and then disappointed when things don’t pan out the way I wanted them to?

Nadia

Tiktok is going crazy over the Storytellers. Even though all I’m doing is holding the phone, I’m proud to be a part of it all.

I try not to read all the comments, though, because while there’s a lot of love for Flynn, the fangirls are hating on me. Hard. Especially when they figure out Flynn’s writing a song for me.

The band keeps messing around, trying the song different ways until they like it. It’s amazing to watch their process.

Adrian opens the door at one point and looks in. His gaze bounces on me and rests, and I picture myself through his eyes. I must seem so different because I’m totally comfortable and at home with my foot propped on the chair and the phone on my knee, watching the band play with a wide smile. He watches me for a moment then backs out and leaves without saying anything.

For once, it seems like he believes I’m okay.

I believe I’m okay.

They try the song again and when they finish, Oleg, who is normally so stoic you can’t even tell if he’s paying attention, sits forward and claps his hands.

I stop the live stream and grin at him. “Forty-one thousand views. You just gained three thousand new followers, and you’re up twenty thousand since yesterday’s stream. You’re famous, Flynn Taylor.”

He walks over and kisses me, and warmth floods me right down to my toes.

I show him the screen of the Tiktok, and a DM comes in from Cadence. “Oh, um, I think she private messaged you last time I live streamed, too.”

He rolls his eyes and takes the phone without even opening the message. “She needs to get a clue. Desperation isn’t a good look on anybody.”

Lake looks over. “Who is that?”

I watch sympathy wash over Flynn’s expression and remember that Lake was with Cadence at that first party. I guess she didn’t see him as a viable replacement for Flynn. “Nah, it’s nothing,” he says, tucking his phone in his pocket and looping an arm around my shoulders. “Nadia’s making us famous,” he says, changing the topic.

“You can repay me by wearing my designs for your next video,” I say casually, like it wouldn’t be the total fulfillment of a dream for me.

“Sounds like a win-win to me,” Story says, and I want to throw my arms around her in a strangle hug.

Sometimes it all feels too easy and too good to be true.

CHAPTER 11

Nadia

“Holy shit,” Kat says in an awed tone as Adrian pulls up in front of Rue’s Lounge the next night. There's a line of people wrapped around the building.

Two weeks ago if I'd seen that line, I would have told Adrian to turn the car around and take us back home. Crowds are definitely not my thing. But tonight the spike of adrenaline I get is not from fear. It's a total thrill.

I did this. I bounce in my seat, as carefree and childlike as a cat.

“This is from the TikTok lives I did with Flynn's phone.”

Kat twists in the front seat to look at me with exaggerated astonishment and approval. “Yeah, it is!” She holds up her hand for a high five.

“Drop us off in back,” I tell Adrian.

“What? You still want to go?” He sounds shocked. Who can blame him? He doesn’t know I’m a new person.

“We'll go in the back door,” I tell him. One week of dating the heartthrob of the Storytellers, and apparently, I think I own the place. Adrian lets us out in the parking lot, and I knock on the locked back door.

When no one answers, I pull out my phone and text Flynn to tell him we are waiting out back.

“Is that door open?” A girl calls from the line of people.

“Oh shit,” Kat mutters. “No!” she calls back.

“Then why are you waiting there? Is someone going to let you in?” Two girls jog toward us in platform heels, leaving their place in line.

Blyad'.

Just what we need is to get bombed with Flynn's fangirls. I groan inwardly as they draw closer, and I realize I recognize them. Of course, it’s Cadence, Flynn's recent fling and current stalker.