Page 9 of Speak of the Devil

“I know.” I lower my arm, staying angled his way. “How’d you know Poppy was the one?”

“Is there a reason you’re asking?”

I’ve started searching for answers for a while now, unsure if I was going to blame them for how I feel or if I’m ready to makechanges, like having someone waiting for me at home like he does. Nah, I’ll blame my cousins. “Curiosity is all.”

He turns his gaze out the window, seeming to ponder the question. “It was just different with her.” Looking back at me, he adds, “And I knew it inside.”

“Inside where?” I know what he means, but he still sounds like a fucking sap. And since I never promised not to give him a hard time, I’m obliged to take the shot.

Shaking his head, he chuckles again. “You haven’t met the one.”

“I’m not trying to. I don’t have any interest in what you and Nikki are doing?—”

“You will.” He plugs in his earbuds, closing his eyes. “Now, if we’re done with this heart-to-heart?—”

“Shut it.” I face forward, too awake to sleep on a thirty-minute car ride. I have an hour and a half ahead of me on the flight. But I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed tonight.

Three hours later, I’m dropping my bag on the floor. Finally home. I lock the front door and head straight for the bedroom. A constant throbbing has replaced the feeling in my hands and wrists. At this point, exhaustion is running through my veins. I’m too tired to fuck around. I grab some packs from the freezer to ice my wrists, then strip the shirt from my body, kick off my shoes, tug my jeans down, and fall into bed.

“Oh shit!”I jump toward the headboard the moment I open my eyes. When my groggy mind catches up to the day, I ask, “What the fuck, Tommy? Why are you here so early?”

“It’s two in the afternoon. I hadn’t heard from you. Answer your phone every once in a damn while, and I wouldn’t haveto show up here unannounced.” His tone doesn’t give anything away, so I have to determine whether he’s joking or mad by if the raging vein in his neck comes out to play. It’s nowhere to be seen, so I lie back down again.

Naturally, I can’t sleep. Especially knowing Tommy’s sitting out there twiddling his thumbs while waiting for me. Staring up at the ceiling, I debate if I want to kick his ass for breaking in or get dressed to hear what he has to say.Fuck me.I push off the bed and land on my feet, aiming for the bathroom. I had plans of doing nothing but catching up on sleep today, but here I am, getting up to entertain him. I’m going to need two things to function, though: coffee and a shower.

A morning fuck wouldn’t be bad either, but since I decided not to bring a woman to LA with me—not my wisest decision—I’ll settle for the shower. Even with the water pouring down on me, easing the tension in my shoulders, I can’t remember the last time I hooked up with a groupie.

When was the last time I booked a hotel room? Because I know I wasn’t bringing women back to my sanctuary to fuck. When I need to sleep or shut out the ringing of the crowds in my ears, I do it here. It’s not where I entertain one-night stands.

Coffee wafts into the bedroom, seducing me to the kitchen to find Tommy’s brewed a pot.

He looks up from his phone before tucking it away. He says, “You guys are killing it on the charts.”

I scrub a hand over my face, determined to get caffeine in me before I have any deep conversations. He’s already made himself at home, taking up space on my couch like he intends to stay. I pour a cup and then ask, “What’s so important that you had to break into my house to wake me?”

“You’re killing it on stage. You’re playing the hell out of those drums, and the fans are loving it.”

Holding up my battered hands, I say, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You were sent the new contracts. Take a look at them, and if you have any questions, Rochelle and legal can meet with you to explain the details.”

“But?” Leaning against the counter, I drink while he tries to get out whatever it is he’s not saying.

“No but. But?—”

“I knew it.” I laugh, moving into the living room to sit in a chair by the coffee table. He’s still chuckling, but I’m not. He’s not one to beat around the bush. Tommy tells it like it is, so I start to wonder if something’s wrong. “Everything okay?”

He grins like a motherfucker. I should have known he was fucking around. He says, “The band hit the bonuses for the gold records, and we want to lock down the next album with a bigger cut to Faris Wheel. How do you like those apples?”

“I like dollar bills better.”

Chuckling, he stands, leaving his mug on the coffee table. “Yeah, I wanted to stop by to let you know personally. Keep kicking ass.”

“I intend to.” Our hands come together, but he pulls me in for a pat on the back. “It comes natural.”

“Musicians are such a humble bunch.” Pushing me away, he moves toward the door, his laughter trailing him. “Give ’em a stage, and they’ll?—”

“Take advantage of it every time.”

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