Page 104 of Pretty Obsessed

"Shit, you're right. No wonder it's a zoo." He brought his drink to his lips, iconic hands showing off a new collection of rings. He must have spent the afternoon shopping while I napped.

His hands might be the best known in the world. We had a matching anchor and rose on the web between our thumb and index finger. The first ones we got together after the overnight success of our first release.

He'd added to his. Whereas my left only had one, he had a snake on the outside of the same hand, and ones between his fingers. He had lovely hands and the tattoos made them better.

"Are you going to be okay? I'm not going to stay too much longer."

Iris checked his Rolex. That had been a gift from John Mayer the first time we'd played with him. The stories behind everything we did and wore still blew my mind. "So early? It's your birthday."

"Emory is waiting at a hotel in Midtown."

His brows rose. “So what you’re saying is you don’t want to be here at all?"

I smiled and shrugged. “Not really, but imagine the press if I wasn’t seen out on my birthday.”

Iris gave me a rueful grin. "The man who refuses to indulge in anything is pretty obsessed."

"Maybe the right things are worth being obsessed over."

Iris tilted his head, going over my words. "I think you're right. I think we have to choose our obsessions carefully and only let the ones we love most destroy us."

"Are you going to let yours destroy you?" I asked as he brought a joint to his lips.

"I guess I'm playing roulette with it. But doesn't it all come back to the music?”

"Is there talk about pushing our next date?" Alister had mentioned it in passing on the flight over here, but he didn't know the details.

Iris shoved a hand into his hair, pushing it away from his face. It hung down just past his shoulders and mostly he wore it up, except when we went out or were on stage. Girls went crazy for it. Much like Harry Styles in his One Direction heyday. "I'm going to need another drink if we are going to get into it. I don't think I can have this fight again."

Iris was the kind of person who'd never needed a stylist. He knew what he liked, and whereas they might style him for shoots, they kept it pretty close to what he'd liked to wear already. I, on the other hand, started off in black jeans and a flannel. How silly I looked while I resisted the band's stylist.

Fashion wasn't something that was ever intuitive to me. But I loved David, he sent me pieces and let me pick what I liked, in a guided, crash course in style. I hadn't realized when we started this there were so many moving parts to music production. I never would have thought about what went into my favorite bands when I looked at them.

"This doesn't sound good. You're not back on the quitting thing?" I asked tentatively, wanting to know the can of worms I was getting myself in to.

He rubbed his tongue over his teeth with a shake of his head. "You don't want to know. It's your birthday. Plus—" He eyed the people around us. A million ears. All with the potential to go to the papers.

We'd had a lot of trouble with that early in our career. We got a fast lesson in who we could trust, and it had been doozy.

"Come on, let's go sit and chat." I nodded towards one of the back areas.

He followed me, weaving in and out of people to the back where we had a private corner for only the band.

I insisted on a place that would provide us with an area to escape to, because even partying with VIPs got overwhelming and I wasn't even as brave as Alister and Iris, who liked to go get lost in the main dance floors. Maybe alcohol and drugs helped.

We settled into seats, glad to find it empty. I figured Iris would bail real fast if Cas showed his face back here.

"Spill."

He gave another glance around and then tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Alexander has got it in his head I need rehab."

I stared. "Isn't he…" I didn’t like this considering the conversation we’d had before Japan. He better not be blaming this on me.

"Yeah. He said it's gotten out of control and I can't help but feel Cas behind this."

"Cas?" I asked confused. He didn't do half of what Iris did, but he'd spent the better part of the last couple of years encouraging it. "He’s judging now? Did he get straight?" I still didn't believe it was his choice.

I didn't like what Iris did either, but I'd been ignored for years. Why were they suddenly all about getting him clean?

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