Dead Serious (9 page)

“Oh, shit,” Turner says, smiling sharp enough to cut. “That is fucking it. As soon as Trey's off his morphine drip, I'm going to put him right back on. Son of a bitch is always scoping out my girls.”

“Your girls?” I lick my tongue across my lips and relax my shoulders, mimicking Turner's relaxed pose. I don't know if it's all an act or what. Surely he hasn't forgotten our bodyguards or the fact that at any moment, we could get ambushed with a horde of cameras. Maybe he just doesn't fucking care? “So I'm just one of your girls then?”

I lift my heel up and wedge it between his knees, bringing the toe to rest on his crotch. Turner looks down at the shoe and then back up at me. His smile intensifies.

“Can I … take your orders?” Deb asks, biting her lower lip so hard it looks like it's going to bleed. Behind her, a gaggle of waitresses waits, phones up, faces rapt.
Crap.
I straighten my leg, pushing against Turner's junk with my shoe. The skin around his eyes tightens, but he doesn't let it affect his ability to be an asshole.

“I'll have a short stack with bacon. Princess here will have the same.”

“Like hell I will.” I increase the pressure of my foot and smile tightly at the waitress. “Gimme a burger and a chocolate fucking shake.” I nod my chin at the lead singer of Indecency who looks just as good tucked into a booth in a diner in the middle of fuck nowhere as he does onstage. “He's paying.” Deb nods enthusiastically, so much so that I actually just sort of hope her head wobbles off her shoulders, and retreats.

“Always happy to treat my special lady to a nice meal.” Turner reaches down and carefully, oh so carefully, removes my shoe. “Wait till you taste this shit. Then you'll see why the whole tour waits when I feel like a fucking Denny's run.” He runs his thumbs down the arch of my foot, giving me a surprise massage. And just when I was about to adjust my foot and use the heel of my shoe to stab him in the nuts. How … considerate.

“You're an interesting man, Turner Campbell,” I say and he ratchets up his smile a bit.

“I'll take that as a compliment. I mean, coming from you, it's probably as good as it gets, right?”

“Excuse me?” Deb's back. Pretty sure the looks that Turner and I throw her are the same.
Go the fuck away.
“But … is this really you?” Deb turns her phone around, so I can take a look at it. Right there, trending all across the Internet is a headline that confuses the hell out of me. Until Deb scrolls down that is.

Murder, Suicide, and Sex Tapes Abound in Ongoing Indecency/Amatory Riot Fiasco.

There's a video there, all cued up to go, but I don't need Deb to start it.

I can recognize my own ass without hitting play, thanks.

Aw, fuck me and my dead grandma.

I run my hand through my hair and try not to look over at Naomi. As soon as I tell her that I heard the door open while we were fucking and did nothing about it, she's going to fucking destroy my ass. And I have to tell her. Because I don't keep secrets. No. Fucking. Secrets.

“Jesse, you need to calm the fuck down,” Ronnie says, holding his hands out, palms facing forward. Jesse looks like he's got the fucking flu, curled over the toilet like that, cursing in German or some other random European language that his dad drilled into his head like a sergeant. Did I mention that Naomi and I weren't the only ones who got our sex tape leaked? In a nice, crystal clear 1080p, we got to see Jesse ramming Rook Geary up the fucking asshole. The few bites of pancake I managed to toss back are still sitting in the back of my throat. If Jesse wasn't hogging the porcelain throne, I'd be over there chucking up my lunch.

“Of all the dudes to ram, it had to be Rook? I mean, there were way hotter guys on tour with us. Myself included.” I pause and think for a second. Maybe I shouldn't be pushing Jesse's buttons, but I'm going to do it anyway, if only because I can. “Hey, why the fuck haven't you ever hit on me? I'm a prime slice of all-American beefcake.”

“Turner,” Ronnie snaps, giving me his best
shut the fuck up
look. “Not helping, man.” I purse my lips and tuck my hands in my back pockets. I know I should be quiet. I mean, as far as things go, this isn't the worst that's happened to us. Ronnie has his hands full dealing with Lola and the whole Poppet situation. Best thing I can do right now is keep my trap shut.

“How was your hamburger?” I ask randomly, leaning back against the wall and waiting for Naomi to uncross her arms from her chest. She handled the video with a fuck of a lot of grace – it wasn't until we got back to the hotel that she turned sullen and shut down on me. This environment is fucking toxic.

“You mean the three bites I got to take before Brayden Ryker rolled up and cleared the restaurant out? They were fucking delicious. Tasted even better as the vans rolled up and the paparazzi rolled in like a plague. My favorite part was when that guy leapt off the roof and tackled me. I almost choked to death.”

“But at least I broke his face in, right?” I squeeze my right hand and try to work out some of the soreness in my joints. “I really did nail that dude in the fucking nose. He deserved that shit, too.”

“Nice video,” Trey croaks out from my left. We're all standing in his room because, well, he can't exactly come to us. Doesn't matter though. I'm just glad the son of a bitch is alive. Too bad he won't be able to play Friday's concert with us. As much as I love Naomi on the guitar, I still miss Trey. He really is my best Goddamn friend. “You two looked hot,” he whispers, trying his best to manage a self-assured smirk. I don't even care that it's a poor imitation of my own. I move forward, pausing next to his bedside and ruffling his hair in a manner meant solely to piss him the fuck off.

“No worries, little brother. One day, you too may be able to find a woman half as good as Naomi. Take note of my techniques and try not to fuck the moment up like you did with that chick back home.” I laugh when I think of the story of Trey's first time. Unfortunately, I also had to bear witness to that disgusting shit. My friend's a royal fucking idiot, but I love 'im anyway.

“Go fuck yourself, Turner,” he whispers, brown hair obscuring his forehead, little beads of sweat standing out on his pale skin.
Thank the fucking Gods of Rock that he didn't die. I don't know what the hell I would've done.
“Tell Jesse his was nice, too.” Trey lets out a creaky burst of laughter and then groans.

“Screw you, Trey,” Jesse says as he stands up and stumbles out of the bathroom to collapse into a chair. Hey, I'm kind of ticked the fuck off that somebody invaded my privacy and shit if I don't want to cut a bitch for showing Naomi's goods to the world, but at least everyone knows they're mine now. Having a sex tape leaked sucks, but it's not
that
big of a deal, right? “My brothers are never going to speak to me again. And Rook? Why did it have to be a video of me and him? I don't even like that asshole. Now I'm going to be immortalized as his lover.”

I smirk, but a look from Naomi cuts the expression short.

“I understand that you're upset,” Ronnie says, sitting down next to our friend and putting a gentle hand on his knee. Better him than me for that comforting bullshit. I'm more likely to crack an inappropriate joke. “But I think the bigger issue here is how the fuck somebody got that video of Naomi and Turner. This hotel is on lockdown.”

“And the door was locked,” I supply, taking a deep breath and shaking out my hands. “And I, uh, may or may not have heard somebody come in.”

“You what?” Naomi asks, turning to look at me, the sienna glaze in her eyes firing up like an atomic bomb. I shrug like I don't give a shit, even though I feel guilty as fuck. Instead, I focus my gaze on Ronnie's brown eyes. He's staring at me like I'm an idiot and hell, maybe I am?

“I just assumed it was one of you assholes sneaking a peek. How the fuck was I supposed to know it was somebody out to screw us?”

“So,” Ronnie begins, taking in a big breath that expands his chest and presses his muscles against the confines of the neon pink T-shirt he's wearing. He is definitely gaining some weight, but in a good way.
Go Lola Saints.
Maybe my friend will actually make it to his fortieth birthday without croaking from an overdose of meth? Think the clothes might be her doing, too. I've never seen Ronnie wear a shirt that said
Calm Ya Tits
before. “I'd say, based on that information, that we were dealing with a hotel employee, someone who just happened in on you and took the video.” Ronnie pauses and I sense a
but
in there somewhere. “If that's the case, how did it get leaked so fast? And at the same time as Jesse's video? At the same fucking time that crime scene photos from Hayden's … ” Ronnie pauses and glances over at Naomi. She sighs and pulls out a cigarette, glancing over at Treyjan and his medical equipment before growling something under her breath and tucking it between her breasts for later.

“Don't hold back on my expense. Please, continue.” Ronnie nods, all businesslike and looks back at Jesse, then over at the wall of windows opposite him. Lola's not here which is unusual. Ronnie and her have been joined at the hip for days now. I hope everything's okay with her sister.

“So it's not a hotel employee, and it's not a random act. Somebody that's authorized to be here did this. It wasn't just Hayden that was working for Stephen.” Ronnie shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, calculating something in his head. He only gets a moment of silent contemplation before the door opens up and in comes Sydney and Dax. Neither of them looks like they've gotten much sleep, but at least I can still feel that overprotective urge radiating off of my friend's sister. She's still interested in Dax, still worried about Trey, still too vested in this crap to up and leave. I hate to admit it, but I'm kind of glad that she's here. Sydney has a calm, collected way of looking at the world. One time, Trey and I blew up a neighbor's garbage can with fireworks and nearly set a trailer on fire. Of course, as soon as the flames started to lick up the sides of the building, we ran and bumped right into Sydney. She stood there for a quiet moment, told us to get lost and grabbed the fire extinguisher from her own trailer to put out the fire. Doesn't seem like much now, but we were only eight at the time and Sydney was our hero. She kept us from getting in trouble by coming up with a story for her dad, and possibly prevented something even worse from happening. Maybe she can help us puzzle this shit out?

“I want to talk to you all,” Dax says, folding his arms across his chest. He's wearing the same clothes I saw him in this morning, and his eyes are ringed in red like he's barely got the energy to keep them open. I notice he doesn't look my way. Whatever. Maybe it was hard for him to see me ramming the love of his life? Hopefully he'll get over it and go after Sydney. That'd make my life a hell of a lot easier. I was even going to ask him to help me pick out a ring, not because I'm trying to be an asshole but because he cares about Naomi, and he's known her longer than I have. I thought it was a smart decision at the time, but maybe I should be grateful we ended up bickering and I didn't get the chance to ask?

“About?” Naomi asks, but Dax doesn't respond, just plops down on the chair opposite Jesse and Ronnie. His eyes are focused on the floor, but his fingers curl against the ugly blue fabric, black painted nails digging in deep.

“You've all read the story. You know Hayden murdered a girl, Tara Bae, in that hospital, but you don't know why. Nobody does.” Dax swallows hard and closes his eyes tight. “I want to get all the secrets out, right here, right now. Then there's no cannon fodder left for them to use, and maybe, just maybe if we do that, we'll be able to come up with a solution for this crap.”

Dax sighs, glances around the room and takes a big breath.

“But first, let me tell you about America … ”

My mind is so fucking blown it feels like my thoughts are coming all over my face. Jesus.

“Dax … really is an emo bitch, isn't he?”

“Shut up, Turner,” Naomi says, flopping onto the bed in our hotel room with a sigh. I lay down next to her and wrap one arm under her waist, laying the other over the top. Feeling her body expand with each breath, tasting the heat of her body on my own skin, is like fucking heaven.