EPIC (Book 1 of the Soundcrush series)

Chapter 37: Rock Stars Will Break Your Heart

Trace

Leed has stalked over into the middle of the Mac Madness. He is surprisingly chill, considering the shit this douchebag clubber is talking about his sister. Must be the Mollycock he drank; it's hard to rage and roll at the same time.

"Leed, get out of the damn way so I can deliver this punk's beatdown," I growl.

Adam interrupts the altercation by climbing up onto the bar with Mac. For a second I think he's going to kiss her while a hundred phones have video rolling, but he doesn't. He gets right in her face, yells, "You're done here!", hops gracefully down behind the bar, grabs her around the legs, pitches her over his shoulder and gestures for John to lead the way through the kitchen.

I'm supremely happy. #Madam will trend way higher than whatever the fuck they are calling me and Kat. I don't even think we have a ship name, unless you count #trailbait. Which I don't.

"See y'all back at the hotel," Adam says breezily, like he's not fighting with a hundred pound Tasmanian devil on his shoulder, who is beating his back and trying to get teeth on him to free herself. Leed, Bodie and I wave at Mac as she disappears through the kitchen door over Adam's shoulder. She flips us off. With both hands.

"I bet a benji Adam has a black eye in the morning," Bodie says.

"You're on," Leed says grimly. "I figure he strikes first—his tongue in her mouth before she lands a punch."

"I want odds on whether they make it to the hotel, or screw in the limo," I grin.

Leed laughs, and then he looks troubled. "This whole thing should really disturb me, considering it's my sister being hauled off for a claim-fucking. But I'm...feelin' the love."

Bodie slaps him on the back, "Next time, just say no to love drugs, brother."

Leed rubs his face. "No shit, man. Fucking mollycocks get me every time." He scans the club. "Where's Sophie, anyway?"

I use Leed's moment of horny distraction to slip around him and shove the Mac-insulting punk hard.

"Get the hell gone! Show's over!" I yell at all these fake-fan-but-actual-haters. I'm totally over the anger; at this point I'm just flexin'. The Lucky Shot contenders grumble and disperse.

My supreme happiness fades the moment we claim the top of the VIP balcony and Kat's not there. I stop at the top of the stairs, and Leed stops right behind me. "Fuck," he enunciates with exasperation, but not real worry. "Trace, I made sure she was with Ben. I saw them walking up the stairs. I swear."

Ben is gripping the rail when I approach. "I'm sorry, Trace," he says, never taking his eyes off the the floor, scanning methodically for Kat. "I asked her to stay up here and she agreed; I thought she would, so I had my eyes on the bar situation."

"What happened?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. Maybe...I offended her, in the way I explained that my job was to secure her. I'm sorry. Will you please check your phone? She's not the dramatic type. If she left, she would tell you."

No texts, no missed calls. "She's here," I tell him. "It's not your fault. I...did something." I scan the floor. Leed and Bodie are looking too.

"There," Bodie points. She's down on the floor, and some guy that is about to have my fist in his face has his hands all over her, grinding her from behind and kissing her neck while she has her eyes closed and her hands in her hair.

By the time I make it to where she is, I can actually hear and see in normal colors again. Which is good, because all I was streaming down the stairs and through the crowd was distorted bloodlust.