“Everything okay?” The suspicious way she eyes me up and down stings.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.”
She works her jaw from side to side, clearly not pleased, but hesitant to argue with me in front of Alvin.
“What are you doing with your bike?” Alvin asks.
“Shit.” My body twitches as I search the apartment. Like a parking spot’s going to magically appear in my living room.
“We’ll look for a place to store it,” Alvin assures me. “Come on.”
“What do you need me to do?” Mallory asks.
“Pack a bag. Make your phone calls.”
“All right.” A feral expression I’m not used to seeing on Mallory’s face turns her features hard. No nonsense. She comes closer and grabs a fistful of my T-shirt, yanking me to her. “Don’t fuck around today, Chaser.” She lowers her voice. “I’m not kidding. Do what you need to do and get your ass back here.”
Fuck, she’s fucking hot.
“Alvin, give us a minute.” I hold up one finger and nudge Mallory backward.
“Oh, no.” She digs in her heels and won’t budge. “You haven’t earned any pussy yet. Get going.”
I groan. There’s nothing hotter than the word pussy coming out of my girl’s proper-princess mouth. “You worried I’ll let you down again?” I whisper in her ear.
“No.” She kisses my cheek. “I’m trying to keep you focused.” Her face softens, and she runs the back of her hand over my cheek. “Trust me, as soon as we’re back in New York, I’m going to fuck you silly.”
Blood thunders through my veins, and I pull her closer, pressing a searing kiss to her lips. “Well, now I’ve got something to look forward to.”
Goals. Everyone needs them.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chaser
Being out with Alvin while we run our errands gives me too much time to plan and scheme.
The addict side of me has apparently grown a pair and decided if I’m going home to get clean, I should go out with a bang.
To say Val’s pissed about me leaving is an understatement. Since I’m not explaining my addiction or dick situation to her, I keep our conversation as vague as possible.
Unfortunately, Val can see right through my wall of cool. “Are you using? I can get you into a program here. You don’t need to go all the way to New York to get sober.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Chaser, everything about the band is my business.”
I keep my lips sealed.
“This is the worst possible time for you to disappear. That demo needs to be done. Yesterday.”
A begging, pleading, reasonable-toned Val is downright unnerving.
“Trust me, I’m just as worried about it as you are. But you and I both know right now what we’re missing are Jacob’s vocals.”
She sighs. “Tell me what’s really going on with him?”
Should I tell Val? Probably. But while I strongly suspect he’s added shooting smack to his drug repertoire, I don’t know for certain. Besides, ratting people out isn’t in my nature. “You’ll have to talk to him about it.”
“Give me something, Chaser.”
“I’ve got nothing to give right now, Val. That’s the truth.”
“Mallory’s going home with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re going to ruin both your careers in one shot.”
Fury rises in my throat. I slap my hand on her desk and stand. In what’s left of my rational mind, I know I’m only pissed because she voiced my worst fear. “We’re done here. I’ll check in with you once a week and let you know when I’m back in town.”
“How mad is she?” Alvin asks as I stomp down the hallway. People actually leap out of my way. Office doors shut with a bang. Guess I must be a scary bastard today.
“Give me a second.” I hold up one hand to Alvin and reverse course.
Val’s assistant jumps when I rest my elbows on her desk and lean over. I give her a wink and a crooked smile. She hands out coke like Halloween candy. I’m pretty sure it’s part of her job description. Another reason Val trying to talk me into rehab pisses me off so much.
The exchange takes a few seconds.
A minute later, I’m in the bathroom inhaling two fat lines.
Ah, breakfast of champions.
“Seriously?” Alvin takes one disgusted look at me when I meet him outside.
“I didn’t say I was quitting today.” I practically rip the passenger side door out of his hands and throw myself into the car. “Step off my nuts.”
He slams the door in my face.
The rest of the day consists of finding a storage facility for my bike, snorting lines, and a fog of paranoia.
Every cop I see must be the one who will pull us over, stopping me from making it home to Mallory.
“Dude, chill the fuck out,” Alvin snaps after I tell him to slow down for the millionth time. “Christ.”
“I gotta get home.”
“No shit.” Under his breath he mutters, “Poor fucking Mallory.”
The guilt tumbles over me like a pile of bricks. “Shut up and drive.”