Page 131 of Strange Lad

After all the stress we as a band have gone through lately, he decidesnowis the time to demand more. I’m sick of it. He thinks just because he’s our manager that he is absolved of his fucked up attitude.

Well, I have a thing or two to say about that.

God, I just want to strangle him.

Choke him until his stupid long orange lashes flutter.

His black Creepers stomp over the asphalt, short legs carrying him swiftly away. Not this time. It’s almost comical that he wears the damn things anyway. Even with the added inch, he’s still short. Short and stocky. He could take a beating. Heat licks up my spine, a familiar flutter in my belly as I get closer.

From day one, I’ve despised him—Lex, with his attitude.

Lex, with his pretty mouth and ember eyes—like every inch of him was forged in fire.

Fuck him.

Fuck how he treats us.

“Oh, don’t run away now. I’m just getting started,” I growl, pushing at his back.

For a tiny guy, he’s surprisingly solid, not moving a fucking inch. That pisses me off, so I push him again, harder. He slams into his stupid purple Prius. “I would stop doing that if I were you,” he warns.

I hate his voice. It’s so arrogant, heady, and soft. Like silk. “Or what? You going to insult me again? Call me a moron again?”

Lex turns to face me; his usually pale skin is pink with a flush. The endless freckles over his nose and cheeks stand out even more. Unease swirls low in my abdomen as he steps into my space, cranes his neck to look up at me, and cracks his knuckles. “Or I can drop your entire band and tell everyone what unprofessional assholes you are to work with.”

He is bluffing.

Lex loves controlling us, loves bossing us around and keeping us at his mercy. There’s no way in hell he’d give up his sadistic daily fix just because I finally call him out on it. I don’t know why he even agreed to be our manager in the first place, he doesn’t even like metal.

Shaking my head, I take a step back, the lavender scent wafting off of him is making me nauseous.

“Nah. It gets you fucking hard making us suffer.” I grin, flashing teeth.

His eyes darken, nostrils flaring as he flicks those flaming orbs over me. “Like I said. Unprofessional.”

“Cut the crap, man,” I say, exasperated, and throw up my hands. “What is your fucking deal? What did I ever do to you?”

“Let’s see, shall we?” Pretending to think, he holds up his hand and ticks his finger down. “You are abrasive. Aloof. A slacker. Oh, and your hair is atrocious.”

I blink, shocked and really fucking mad. “Fuck you.” I shove him back. He glances down where I touched him andbrusheshis chest.Like I’m filthy. Like I’m covered in disease.

“Did I mention that you don’t know when to take the hint? I was done talking to you back there,” he points, “and you followed me. Stalker much?”

Well, there goes my self-control. I surge forward, grab him by his thin neck, and slam him into his car. All of my life, I’ve fought back this deep-seated aggression and tried to carve out a different path for myself so I didn’t end up like so many others from my neighborhood.

But this…little fucker…just pushes all my buttons.

Every single one of them.

I lean down, nose to nose, and his eyes widen slightly.

“Say that shit again. I dare you.”

He squirms in my grip but doesn’t fight me.

“Not so tough now, are ya princess?” I let him go before I really snap and hurt the dude. He rubs his neck, pupils blown, and looks at me differently.

I don’t like it one bit.

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