Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

Georgie’s been infatuated with me for years—this from her own admission—and her mother knows. “As opposed to Georgie feeling as if she isn’t good enough for me to spend time with her because of her, and instead of your fucking bullshit.”

  She throws me another ugly glower before reaching for Georgie again, giving her an earnest look. She brushes away the tears rolling down Georgie’s cheeks.

  “Get away from her,” I snarl, ready to physically remove Georgie and talk to her alone. Ready to love her with my body, just to let her know how much I care.

  “She’s her daughter, Sloane,” Jaeger says in warning. “Her sixteen-year-old daughter.”

  Meaning, I can’t fucking interfere, so I stand there and watch this sad little show and reach new levels of detestation for Cassandra.

  “Georgie, love, Mom bought you a pretty necklace,” she says, referring to herself as if she’s discussing someone else entirely. “It’s diamonds with a big pretty amethyst in the center. The moment I saw it, I knew you’d love it. It’s a wonderful cheer-up gift, given from my heart.”

  “You didn’t sleep with him, did you, Mom?” she whispers, slapping her own tears away with the back of her hand.

  “You’re questioning me? Your mother? Didn’t you hear about my gift? Are you that ungrateful that you can’t even thank me?” She narrows her eyes. “Are you hiding your guilt by questioning my integrity? Did you sleep with this person?”

  Fuck.

  Here it is, but, true to her word, Georgie shakes her head. Her expression doesn’t change. “No, ma’am.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “Does it matter if I’m lying or not?” she snaps. “Since when do you give a fuck if I fuck an entire football team of men?” Angrily, she swipes at more tears. She’s flushed and overwrought. “I haven’t had sex with Sloane, Mom,” she sniffles.

  “I could take you for an exam.”

  “Jesus. All that would prove is…nothing. Not all hymens survive childhood. You do know that, right?”

  Cassandra curls her lip. “Another useless fact that serves what purpose?” she says haughtily. “None. Zero. Zilch.”

  “Take me to the doctor,” Georgie says quietly. “Like now. Today. His DNA isn’t inside of me.”

  I’m a goddamn pervert. Her words make me want to put my dick inside of her. My tongue. My fingers. My spit. My cum. I want to eat her up and fuck her brains out.

  “I don’t have time to bring you anywhere,” Cassandra announces in a hard voice.

  Georgie swallows and drops her head. “I…can we do something. Me and you? I love you. I miss you.”

  “Sorry, no. Your father and I have plans.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a long day,” Georgie presses. “We can have a burger, fries, and a milkshake…”

  Her voice trails off at Cassandra’s gasp and look of outrage. “Do you know the only other demographic more invisible than women over thirty-five, Georgie? Fat, out-of-shape people of any age.”

  While Georgie searches for a response, we all exchange incredulous glances amongst ourselves, commiserating over a crazy bitch.

  “It’s just one burger,” Georgie says in bewilderment. “You’re gorgeous. One burger won’t change that.”

  “My answer is no, Georgiana. I’m the adult here, your mother, and you’re following my order!”

  “It’s about time you remembered,” Georgie shot back.

  The deserved jab pisses Cassandra off enough that she delivers a slap across Georgie’s face. “I refuse to have you turn into a fat, little slut. If you’re lucky, you’ll die before you’re thirty-five. But what you won’t do is open your legs to Sloane Mason, who takes a new woman to his bed every night. You won’t make a mockery of the kindness your father and I offered by talking this singer into making you feel more special than you are. He says that isn’t the case, but look at you. What man has time to raise you? He has to have stunted growth in his brain and a jail wish to spend time with you otherwise.”

  Color drops from Georgie’s face, except for Cassandra’s handprint, and she wilts, shutting down all emotion. Even towards me. I open my mouth to speak, to bring her back. A tantrum. A demand. A smart ass comment. I don’t care. Anything is better than the way she’s turning into herself and pushing everyone else out.

  Instead of allowing me to speak, to offer to bring her for a burger and fries, she runs from the studio.

  Cassandra smiles. “This wouldn’t have happened if you would’ve answered your phone.”

  My fingers clench and I step toward her, but Kiln holds me back. The others suddenly surround me. Not to protect Cassandra. To protect me from myself.

  “Get out.” I consider strangling her. She doesn’t deserve to live after the scene I’ve just witnessed. “Don’t come near me again or I’ll not be responsible for my actions.”

  My words aren’t a deterrent. “I’m not sharing you with her. She needs to leave something for me. If I can’t have you, neither can she.”

  I jerk away from Kiln and rush Cassandra, satisfied when she stumbles back, fear flashing in her eyes. “Are you going to fucking kill me to keep me from her?”

  She recovers her aplomb quickly. “No need,” she shoots. “A charge of statutory rape will do the trick and put you behind bars instead of me.”

  She has me over another barrel and she knows it, so I say nothing. As soon as she leaves, I’ll call Georgie. Wherever she’s at, I’ll go to her and spend the evening with her. She has to be okay and I know, after the last twenty minutes, she isn’t. I have no doubt, she’s going to call Crowell to get a fix.

  “I’ll forget she was with you if you stay away from her,” Cassandra murmurs into the tense air.

  Instead of telling her to go fuck herself, I give her a brusque nod. There’s nothing more to say or to do to her, so I get the fuck out of there and head to my bike, yanking my phone out of my pocket, so I can call Georgie.

  “Stop,” Kiln orders.

  “Go suck your dick.”

  “I saw you in there, Sloane,” he grates out. “You were fucking on your game. You have four days left to record eight fucking songs and another concert to prepare for. You want to fucking complete your self-destruction? Go the fuck ahead and do it. But your band deserves what you gave of yourself earlier.” I think he’s done, but he adds one last bit. “As does your music.”

  “She needs me.”

  I can’t believe I say those three words to him of all people. As if he gives a fuck, if she needs me. Right now, I resist the notion I need her too when I know I do. His answer is a snort.

  Maitland is suddenly next to Kiln. He’s grave and tense, his eyes bleak. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he looks at the blue sky. “Fuck, I can use some reefer.”

  “That makes two of us,” I grumble. For me, reefer leads to harder drugs. I stare straight ahead. “What do you want?”

  “You know what, Sloane.”

  He whips hair behind his ear and I study the gauges in his lobes. He was stoned out of his fucking head when he had them done. But I’m the one who’s being pinned to the fire for my drug use.

  “We did what we could last night. We can vouch for you as much as possible, even though I doubt your time with her in the bedroom was innocent.”

  He pauses, hoping for a denial from the look on his face but waiting for a confession because he knows me. I offer neither.

  “Let her mom settle down.” He takes my phone and points to Georgie’s number, just waiting for me to press send. “You’ll only make matters worse. Go back in there while she’s still here, so she can see for herself you didn’t go after Georgie.”

  “Don’t you get it?” I snarl. “The asshole who texted her last night? She’s going to him. She’s going to get fucking high and suck his goddamn dick.”

  The thought almost kills me. My jealousy is overwhelming my need to protect her.

  “What she does isn’t your problem,” Kiln says. “Staying out of trouble, so you won’t get kicked out of t
he band, is.”

  There’s the threat, the not-so-subtle reminder of the control he has. He wants to get back at me because of the other night. If I leave, he’s seizing this chance. Looking to Maitland, I wait for him to defend me, but he doesn’t. He clenches his jaw and looks the other way.

  This is an epic failure to Georgie, but I see no other choice but to abandon my escape. “Get that bitch the fuck out of my sight as soon as possible,” I demand, referring to Cassandra.

  We find her in a heated conversation with Jaeger.

  “I told you,” he shouts. “He didn’t go after your fucking daughter, madam. Her pussy’s safe from Sloane.”

  She glares at me. “If only mine had been.”

  “It’s my fault you opened your cunt to me?” I bark, disgusted.

  The gray in her eyes overtake the green and brown, filling with a dull misery. I smirk at her, vindicated on Georgie’s behalf. “The first time Parnell asked me to do it. The second time I did it because of our mutual attraction.” Her nostrils flare and her breath hitches. “The way I sucked your cock and you pounded into me. You took me at the concert because you think I’m beautiful. You wanted me, so why were you here with Georgiana?”

  Maitland shoves a lit cigarette into my hands and I take a drag. I wish it was of the illegal variety. Unfortunately, it isn’t. I take another drag.

  “You never told me how I looked in that outfit.” She presses a hand against her belly. She’s wearing an emerald green dress, cut mid-thigh, to show off her long, toned legs. “Am I still beautiful?”

  I pull in the smoke and close my eyes, exhaling on a long breath. I ignore Kiln and Jaeger, as well as the producers whose names I’ve never learned. I didn’t agree with bringing them onboard, in the first place. Saving my displeasure over the recording sessions for another time, I refocus on Georgie’s mother. “You’re gorgeous, Cassandra.” It doesn’t matter who, in this room, hears my compliment. It’s an undeniable truth. “Any man with red blood in his veins recognizes that.” My cigarette is burned nearly to the butt. Still, I keep it between my fingers and make an arc of the men in the room. “Me. Them. Your husband.”

  She lowers her lids. “You still want me?”

  Walking to a table, I pick up the pack of cigarettes and the lighter. Once I’ve lit another one, I shake my head and sigh. “No. I don’t like you. I don’t respect you. I feel absolutely nothing.”

  “One thing’s for certain, you can never accuse him of lying to you,” Kiln remarks dryly.

  Cassandra and I face off. “You want her?”

  “I want to protect her, since no one else seems inclined to.”

  “That’s not all you want from her,” she accuses. “If it wasn’t for her, you’d still be fucking me.”

  She’s probably right, so I can’t deny it, despite how much I want to. Her statement says a lot about me. Although I’ve never been bothered by my actions before, I am now. I’m afraid of Georgie finding out.

  “If she was eighteen, I’d pursue her,” I admit. Hurt creeps into her eyes. Her expression couldn’t be more horrified had I delivered the same kind of hit to her that she gave to Georgie. “And I’d win her.”

  She licks her lips, blinks away tears, then screws her features into her evil bitch look. “Stay the hell away from my daughter, Sloane. If you don’t, I’ll make you sorry.”

  Without awaiting my response, she spins on her heels and stalks away.

  Once again, a recording session is blown to fucking hell.

  Georgie

  I’ve exhausted my tears, but my confusion remains and so does the sting in my cheek from Mom’s slap. So many conflicting feelings inside of me, and I’m so suspicious of my mother’s sudden appearance. She’s never hunted me down before, so it doesn’t have anything to do with me.

  Does it? I want to believe her so bad, even if it means Sloane was doing nothing more than a favor to my parents by spending time with me.

  A dry sob escapes me. I wrap my arms tighter around my knees, pressing my cheek against my leather pants.

  A horn blows and I lift my head. Crowell is at the curb. He’s made me wait at this park for almost two hours, but I don’t care. He’s going to help me to forget and piece together how broken I feel inside.

  The one thing I had, the one person who seemed truly concerned about me, has been taken away. Sloane is leaving in a few days, but I’d still decided to bask in his attention and affection while I could.

  Now, he’s gone and I’m feeling scared and lost all over again.

  “Get in the car, George.”

  Dusting the back of Sloane’s shirt off, since it is covering my pants, after I hop to my feet, I do as I’m told, not understanding why I’m not happier to see Crowell. He’s always been the one I leaned on and I was always grateful for him.

  Now, I’m not so sure.

  Once I sit in the passenger seat, I throw my bag in the back seat and close the door. As the window glides up from where Crowell controls it on the driver’s door, he speeds off.

  “You’re lucky I came for you,” he says coldly.

  I hiccup. “Thank you,” I tell him in a small voice.

  He sidles a glare at me. I have to rectify my treatment of him. Since I haven’t fastened my seat belt yet, it’s relatively easy to lay my body across the center console and bury my head against his crotch.

  My fingers shake as I free him and take him into my mouth. I don’t want to do this with him. Not only because of Sloane, but because Crowell has been a complete fucking jerk to me.

  I have no wants in this, though. I have needs and Crowell is the only one who is completely dependable to fulfill them.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sloane

  It’s been four fucking days of hell, but we’ve cut the album. It’s done. Our first new material in three fucking years and it’s some of our best work. I’m fucking happy even though I’m fucking miserable.

  Kiln hasn’t allowed me a moment’s peace about Georgie or the fact that he can’t wait to fuck me over, so I’ve been relying on Abby for information. Parnell is back and he’s invited Abby to his and Cassandra’s bed again. I live for the day Cassandra McCall discovers her husband’s transgressions. The revelation will define Karma. She hasn’t tried to contact me. I think if she does, I will kill her.

  According to Abby, no one gave a shit about Georgie’s absence, who returned home yesterday, higher than fuck, her clothes and skin stained with cum. Abby happened upon her by accident, much like I did, leaving her parents’ fuck chamber and getting the fuck away from that zoo.

  The information gave me little comfort, but I need to focus on the concert tonight. We go on stage in less than an hour and if thoughts of Georgie aren’t bad enough, Jaeger is with me.

  He’s the oddity amongst us, a crew cut ginger with blue eyes, who prefers suits and ties to leather and denim. He’s less of an asshole than Kiln, so I’m happy for small favors. My brain shuts down before my thoughts stray further to either of them.

  “At the rate we’re going, we’ll more than fulfill our merch contract.”

  “Don’t we always?” Merchandisers have never complained about our performance minimum. We’re at a different venue tonight. Bigger, but just as sold out. “Were you worried?”

  Jaeger adjusts his tie. It looks familiar, resembling one of Dad’s. “You blew off cutting the fucking tracks for months.”

  Opening the top drawer of the dressing table I’m sitting at, I lift my brows at the joint greeting me. Perfectly rolled and waiting for me to take a hit. “I didn’t blow it off,” I say absently. “I was in fucking rehab.”

  “For six months,” he bites out. “What’s happened the past nine?”

  I bring the weed to my nose and sniff, my nostrils flaring at the faint scent. “You tell me. Or maybe I should break it down myself?” I search for a lighter or matches, anxious to breathe in the lit fumes. “Three months to ignore me. Three months to consult with Dad. And three months to convince m
e touring with you fucks under the threat of dismissal was a good fucking idea.”

  When I jab the roll into my mouth, Jaeger shoots to his feet, rushes to me, and snatches it away. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he snarls, dangling the thing in front of me. “You really want to fuck up everything for this?”

  Georgie’s glazed eyes pop into my head and her plea…”Sloane, please.” She doesn’t know how powerful those words are to me. Rubbing my temples, I sigh. “No.”

  “You have to stay fucking clean,” he continues. “Without you, we’ll end up in the poorhouse.”

  It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, but my immunity to the words isn’t quite as strong as I’d like it to be. “Invest,” I say blandly, placing my hands behind my head and relaxing in my seat, the picture of nonchalance and not-giving-a-fuck. “Divert your interests. Stop living the life now and think about money for the future.”

  He shoves the joint in his suit pocket and turns away from me, pacing. Deep down, I believe he’s a good guy, always treating me better than Kiln, even before…her…them. Our mothers, Steffie…and Dietrech.

  “For fuckheads who promise me I’m out if I fuck up again, you’re sure dependent on me to earn money.”

  “Sloane…”

  “Save it,” I say mildly. “I understand you need to bleed my fame dry for when I fuck up or overdose again. Either way I’m out and your pockets are lined.”

  My self-indulgence pisses him off. “Be happy you have some value to someone,” he snaps. “Beyond being the engine that keeps the money rolling in, what else are you but a disgrace?”

  “How lucky for you I value myself so highly. Your words might give me a complex otherwise.”

  With a last, dirty glare, he stalks out. He hasn’t been gone five minutes before there’s a roar beyond my dressing room door. What the fuck’s going on? A fucking fight? Groupies attempting some sexual feat to wow us into having them for the night?

  A moment later, my door whooshes open and my breath whooshes from me. Kiln hustles Georgie in. My entire being freezes and then thaws, attempting to comprehend the girl staring at me with those amazing eyes.