Page 15 of Behind the Lyrics
He gave me the side-eye, his cold gaze softening as he scoured my face.
I raised my eyebrows and gave a little wave. “Adios,cabrón.”
The skin around his eyes tightened, and his lips parted.
Some of my anger dissipated.He’s probably wondering what I just called him.Asshole seemed pretty fitting to me.
A quick, loudknockcame from the other side of the door.
Viktor yanked it open.
A large man in a business suit stuck his head through the opening. “Come on, boss. We need to go. There’s a media van pulling up.”
With a tight-lipped smile, Viktor left without another word.
I breathed a sigh, but I wasn’t sure if it was a sigh of relief or a sigh of regret.
Thank God this day’s over. I don’t think I can handle another moment of Viktor Farrow.
Chapter 14
Viktor Farrow
After Clive and bodyguard Stu hustled me through the growing crowd outside Angela’s apartment, I lounged in the back of the Escalade and stewed.
She’d practically thrown me out. Me—Viktor Farrow, one of the most famous musicians in the world—if notthemost famous. Most women begged for me to take them, yet even in her shitty little apartment, standing in front of her, I felt… What did I feel? Out of my element? Yes, that was it. And I didn’t know what to do about it. No woman had ever stirred such conflicting emotions in me, and I’d just met the evil little devil. It was madness.
“You okay, boss?” Clive’s gaze shifted to the rearview mirror and met mine.
The city’s warm-yellow lights revealed palms lining the streets. He pulled up to a private drive and entered the code into the box outside the gate. When it opened, he crawled forward, following the winding, landscaped street leading to the private mansion.
“Never been better.” My response, automatic and a tad snarky, was the biggest lie I’d told all year. I’d been betterbeforeI met Angela Morales, but now I floundered, unable to get my head straight.
“Well, next time you insist on going somewhere alone,” Stu said, “I’ll put my foot up your ass. You’re lucky you got out of there before it got too crazy.” The record label had assigned him to me, and the bodyguard was right. Still, I hadn’t wanted him tagging along while I visited Angela.
“Do you smell that?” Clive drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to “Psychosocial” by Slipknot and wrinkled his nose.
“Smell what?” A smidgeon of guilt crept into my chest when I thought about what I’d said to Angel, how I’d implied she wouldn’t be able to afford my shoes.What kind of knob head says that to someone?Had it been so long since I knew the desperation of poverty? I hadn’t always been loaded. Hell, I’d come from nothing and remade myself with painstaking care.
“Something smells like piss.” Clive rolled down the window a bit, and we followed the low lights of the driveway leading to the covered garage. “I’ll need to have Henry detail this tomorrow. Can’t believe you can’t smell that.”
“Ugh.Ido.” From the front passenger seat, Stu nodded to Clive and sniffed. “Been smelling it ever since we left that lady’s apartment. Must have a shitload of cats because I think I can actuallytasteit. Her place must reek.”
Marky. If I get my hands on him, the tiny fuckface will be leveling down one of his nine lives.
Once the car came to a stop, I let myself out and stalked straight through the long, spacious halls. The pool party seemed to have moved inside, and the alcohol flowed.
Justin, my bass player, sat on a loveseat in the living room, a girl on each side, and flashed a shit-eating grin. “Hey, Farrow. Dude, you’re missing out.” He toasted me with his red solo cup then dipped his chin at a brunette nibbling her way down his naked chest.
Iammissing out.Not on the alcohol but on the fun. Years ago, I lived to party. Besides being on stage, afterparties were the second thing I loved the most; the freedom, the pleasure, and the heady power that came with being a celebrity, worshipped like the god I was.
Now, taking in the women, the booze, the raucous laughter, irritation and fatigue prickled through my limbs.Is this what it all boils down to? Shagging nameless, faceless women every night and drinking until blacking out?
Deciding not to ruin Justin’s enjoyment, I pointed finger-guns at him and winked. “Maybe next time, mate.”
The brunette went lower.
Justin pushed the back of his head into the couch and groaned.
