Page 117 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
It felt shitty.
When we pulled off Sunset onto the side street where the entrance to the House of Blues’s parking lot was located, I felt even shittier.
A line of police cars blocked traffic from the street from below. Uniformed officers conferred in small groups along the sidewalk. Burly bouncers checked guest names off a list before cars were allowed to enter the parking lot, and a host of security guards wandered up and down the block with flashlights and walkie-talkies. A crowd had gathered beyond the line of police cars, hoping for a glimpse of their favorite band, and even more bystanders watched from across the street. Everywhere lurked men with cameras.
A scream went up from the crowd when we exited the car. They recognized Nico.
“What?” he asked, watching my face carefully.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” I muttered, shooting a glance over my shoulder.
Nico’s face turned a shade darker than it had been in the car. He tugged on my hand, and we went inside.
“Oh my God, they’re amazing!” shrieked Chloe above the blare of the music. She and I, along with Grace and Eric, stood in the wings offstage as we watched Bad Habit rock the House. Nico was so fucking sexy, strutting and stomping his way around the stage, thrusting his hips as he played his guitar, singing with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, sweat dripping down his brow. The music hall only held about fifteen hundred people, but he sang as if there were a hundred and fifty thousand screaming out his name.
Even Grace was transfixed. She stared at the band, blinking rapidly, her hand at her throat.
Bad Habit finished the song with a hammering drum solo, and the room erupted in deafening screams and applause. Nico laughed, pumping his fist in the air. I caught his eye as he turned away from the mike and smiled. He grinned back at me and winked.
Fanning herself, Grace said, “I don’t know about you ladies, but all that testosterone has strangely made me need to pee. I’m off to the loo.”
“I’ll come with.” Chloe gave Eric a kiss on the cheek. Adorably, he blushed.
“The three of you need an armed chaperone,” he said, eyeing our outfits in alarm
. “You’re in danger of causing a riot on the way to the ladies’ room.”
Chloe wore a pale green, sleeveless minidress that complemented her golden tan and hair to perfection. I wore one of Nico’s Beverly Hills boutique dresses, a tight, crotch-grazing number in fire-engine red, with heels to match. Grace wore the killer leather mini, as promised, paired with a glittery purple camisole top, and was attracting a lot of attention. Contrasted with her vivid hair and pale skin, the purple was incredible. I’d even seen a few girls send her admiring glances.
“Puh!” Grace waved her hand. “Thanks for the offer, Eric, but I won’t have you following us around and ruining my chances of finding a hot roadie I can do the nasty with tonight and never see again.”
“Grace!” Chloe was scandalized. The thought of a one-night stand was about as shocking to her as the thought of murder. It was just one of those things a lady didn’t do.
Grace rolled her eyes. “I didn’t wear this skirt for nothing, Chloe. I’m fishing for a man tonight, and this is what you call bait. Now off with you, Eric, we’ll be back in five. Or Kat and your girlfriend will. If I go missing, don’t come looking for me.”
I think Eric was too distracted by Grace calling Chloe his girlfriend to protest. He wore a dazed smile as we left, his gaze glued to her retreating back. The band launched into another song, and we took the private elevator to the top floor.
The ladies’ room upstairs was in the private club. Decorated by someone with a fetish for red velvet and gilt, it looked like something out of a nineteenth-century bordello. The incense that burned in a little jar in one corner was probably meant to cover the smell of bleach, which it didn’t.
I wondered if Grace had been right about the toilet seats.
“I have to admit,” said Grace, leaning over the sink and staring into the mirror while applying lipstick, “watching Bad Habit play live has given me a much better understanding of how people become enamored with musicians. They practically oozed sex. It was very powerful, if I do say so myself. Almost mesmerizing.”
“You’ve never seen a band play live before?” asked Chloe from inside the stall. The toilet flushed, and she came out to wash her hands. “How is that possible?”
For a moment, Grace froze, her hand to her mouth. Then she looked down, slowly recapped her lipstick, and put it back into her clutch. Quietly, she said, “I don’t actually know if I’ve seen a band live before. I just know I haven’t in the past twelve years.”
“Oh crap.” Chloe’s voice and expression reflected her regret over her choice of words. She laid a hand on Grace’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I always forget.”
Another bad choice of words, but at least Grace had the, well . . . grace to smile. “Me, too. And don’t worry about it. You’ve got enough to worry about with your new man and his little, ahem, problem.”
Apparently Chloe had also told Grace about her dissatisfaction with Eric’s overly enthusiastic kissing style. I hadn’t heard an update since my little talk with Eric the day before. “Yeah, how’s that going, Lo? Last time we talked you were thinking of breaking up with him.”
Chloe blushed even deeper than Eric had minutes before. “You guys, I have no idea what’s gotten into him, but it’s like he’s taken lessons or something. I mean, all of a sudden the prehensile tongue is gone, and he’s, like, gentle. As a lamb.”
“Awesome!” I said a little too loudly. Grace looked at me strangely. “I mean, he’s such a great guy, Chloe. I really think the two of you are the perfect couple.”
“Really?” she asked shyly. “Because I think you and Nico are the perfect couple.”
