A FILTHY Friend (Filthy Line Book 5)

by Jaxson Kidman

We looked at each other and started to laugh.

  “That was a lot to drink,” I said.

  “Yeah, it was, babe,” he said. “Told you to watch out for Jay’s house. It sneaks up on you. You should have seen it before he met Wren. There were naked women everywhere.”

  “I don’t want to hear that,” I said. “I don’t want to think about you and other women.”

  “Sure you do,” Sab teased.

  “Leave me alone,” I said.

  I turned toward the window and shut my eyes.

  We ended up going from the practice space to Jay’s house.

  I met the rest of the ladies that somehow managed to tame Filthy Line.

  And we partied like the world was ending.

  I didn’t have anything to swim in.

  And Sab had no problem grabbing me and jumping into the pool.

  Both of us, soaked in our clothes.

  Except for him, he just peeled his shirt off and looked like a chiseled statue of rock star muscle. For me, my clothes hugged every curve I had. Including the ones my clothes were meant to hide.

  Asshole rock star…

  Now we were driving back to Sab’s house to get some sleep.

  I was dry.

  I was drunk.

  I was tired.

  The rest of the ride was comfortable and quiet.

  When the SUV stopped, I groaned, not wanting to be disturbed.

  “We have to go inside now,” Sab said.

  “No. I want to live here.”

  “You want to live in the back of an SUV?”

  “Yeah. It’s roomy.”

  Sab laughed. “You’re drunk, babe. Let me carry you.”

  Sab scooped me up into his arms and climbed out of the SUV.

  I opened my eyes and stared at up him for a second and then looked at his house.

  When he opened the door, I giggled and snorted.

  “What’s so funny?” Sab asked.

  “You’re carrying me,” I said. “Like we just got married or something.”

  “Yeah, exactly,” he said. “Remind me to tell you the story about Jay and Wren and how they met.”

  “I won’t remember a thing in the morning,” I said.

  “No, you won’t.”

  Sab walked me through the house and upstairs.

  He took me right to the master bedroom and to that gigantic bed of his.

  When he placed me down, he hovered over me. “You have a choice to make, Bree.”

  “Hit me with it,” I said.

  “You can either sleep in the clothes you have on… or I can strip you down to nothing and you can sleep naked in my bed.”

  “Oh, baby,” I purred. “You want to strip me naked?”

  “You know, you seem to get horny when you’re drunk.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” I teased.

  “I’m going to cover your drunk ass up and let you sleep it off. Then in the morning I’ll laugh at you as you blush about it. Deal?”

  “Lame,” I said.

  Sab started to move and I grabbed his hand.

  Our eyes met and we stared at each other for way too long.

  Do you feel… anything?

  Sab lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Get some sleep, babe.”

  “Where are you going to sleep?” I asked.

  “Right next to you.”

  “Oh, so that’s why you wanted me naked, huh?”

  “Caught me,” Sab said. “Goodnight.”

  Sab helped me get under the covers, then leaned down to kiss my forehead.

  “Do that again,” I whispered.

  He leaned down again and I threw my head back.

  I snuck a kiss from his lips.

  Oops…

  13

  SAB

  The next two days Bree was my sidekick.

  I busted her ass about being drunk and what she had said. Not to mention her pulling that fast one to get a kiss from me.

  Her face turned red and she hated her life for being hungover.

  It was a busy couple of days as the band got everything finalized and ready for the show for Mitchy.

  We even pushed the memorial service back to the day of the show.

  We figured just get it all done in one shot.

  A day and night dedicated to Mitchy.

  The articles floating around about him were harsh. But they were true.

  Everyone loved drama.

  And Mitchy was always full of that.

  I was outside on the balcony, taking in the morning, sipping coffee with a touch of whiskey in it, thinking about life. Thinking way too much about life. Thinking about Mitchy getting into a really bad bar fight in New Mexico. Wanting to take on a group of bikers who were going to kill him and bury him. I had to jump in and help and as I was tangled with some prospect for the club, the guy recognized me. He whistled for a guy named Fang, who then stopped the fight and wanted pictures and autographs.

  It made me laugh because that’s how Mitchy lived.

  One step over the edge, always getting a lucky break, knowing eventually that his luck would run out.

  “And it did,” I said.

  I looked up and sighed.

  I heard the door open behind me and looked back to see Bree coming outside.

  Wearing a long Filthy Line t-shirt that was at least fifteen years old.

  The black color was faded to a dark gray and the logo and text were peeling away.

  But goddamn did she make that shirt look good.

  “Coffee?” I offered.

  She took the cup and sipped it.

  Then she started to cough. “What is…”

  “Whiskey.”

  “This early?”

  “Rock star life,” I said.

  “Shit, Sab. You should’ve warned me.”

  “Sorry,” I said. I smiled at her. Then I frowned. “Are you okay with today?”

  Bree nodded.

  “You don’t have to go,” I said. “There’s going to be a lot of cameras there. A lot of attention on us. You can just hang here. Relax. Have the place to yourself.”

  “Sab,” she said. “I’m coming with you.”

  I turned sideways. “But for your mother…”

  She swallowed hard. “She didn’t want anything. She hated the idea of spending money when she was gone. Her one close friend went through hell with a funeral once. For her own mother. I just respected her wishes. People can visit a memorial if they want. I wasn’t going to do something big if she didn’t want it.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. “Just so you know too… Mitchy was cremated. We’re going to have some of his guitars on display and take a few pictures. Have a moment of silence for him. Nothing too big. I hate to sound like a total dick here, but this is mostly for the media. There’s a lot of stories about him coming out. They’re all true. But for his honor and memory we want to show everyone that he was still a part of the band.”

  Bree touched my arm. “Is the fame worth it?”

  “Sometimes it is,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Sab.”

  “Yeah. Me too. We can be sorry together, right?”

  “Always,” she said. “Can I have another sip of that coffee?”

  “Didn’t you learn your lesson the other night?” I asked.

  Bree took the cup and walked away from me.

  “Careful,” I called out. “You’re going to get drunk and horny again. Do you not remember you begging me to strip you naked?”

  Bree looked back and smiled. “Well… I’m only wearing this shirt. Shouldn’t be too hard then, right?”

  She laughed and went back inside.

  I felt my knees ready to buckle.

  I finally crossed a line that was deadly.

  My dick started to get rock hard.

  I again pulled off the nice as a rock star can look look with my best-looking ripped jeans, a clean-ish t-shirt, and a black jacket that completed the look.

  Bree wore a black dr
ess that stole my breath.

  When I asked her where she got that from, she said she packed it. She had no idea why she packed it, but she was glad she did.

  I was glad too.

  I gave myself a mental slap.

  She was my friend. My best friend.

  And I had been hitting the whiskey harder by the hour.

  So it was the whiskey talking.

  The whiskey was making my heart race. The whiskey was making my dick feel full when I was near her.

  The good news was that a funeral service was a surefire way to kill off any sexual tension between Bree and I.

  When we arrived at the cemetery to say goodbye to Mitchy, I grabbed Bree’s hand.

  “I’m going to get out first,” I said. “You can follow after a few seconds. I just don’t want you to get blasted with pictures. And then have anyone question things or write something.”

  Bree nodded.

  I opened the door and slid out.

  The people there had cameras but they kept their mouths shut.

  Which was good.

  I started to shut the door when I realized Bree was following me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked.

  Bree got out of the SUV and slipped her hand into mine.

  “I’m here for you, Sab,” she said. “I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks or says.”

  “You just want a piece of the fame,” I said.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I want,” she said as she rolled her eyes at me.

  I squeezed her hand and met up with the rest of the band.

  We were all dressed about the same.

  The women were all in black dresses.

  Liv came over to Bree and took her to their seats.

  It was quite the sight to see.

  Liv, Bree, Abby, Candice, and Wren.

  I reminded myself that Bree didn’t live in LA. That she had a life somewhere else.

  We walked toward a podium where a table with Mitchy’s urn rested.

  It was kind of shocking to see.

  Mitchy was such a pain in the ass for so many years. And now he fit into an urn.

  I looked at the crowd in front of us and it was a very different feeling compared to being on stage.

  There was a group of immediate friends and others. Toby. Executives from SLECK and other record companies we had worked with. There were a lot of people I didn’t know. Behind them were the paparazzi. They formed an arc shaped line, ready to record and take pictures. We figured let them come to this to get it out of their system so the show could be a little more private. Behind them were fans. They scattered themselves across the cemetery, holding up Filthy Line pictures and posters, signs for Mitchy, which left me so uneasy.

  The actual notion of goodbye was right here in front of us.

  I looked at Nash and nodded.

  He stepped up to the microphone.

  He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper.

  “These are some notes I wrote down,” Nash said. “So I didn’t stand up here and fuck this up. And so I didn’t miss anything about Mitchy. But just now, as I stepped up here, I…” Nash ripped the paper into pieces and dropped it. “I don’t need notes to talk about Mitchy. I took those notes because I feared what was going to end up being written about him and his life. I wanted to make sure he got a fair run. But I don’t give a shit about that anymore. None of us do. We know the truth. We know who this crazy son of a bitch rock star really was. Did he die because of drugs? Yes he did. He pushed it too far and… well, he really did go too far. But that was Mitchy. That was what gave him life. That was what allowed him to be who he was…”

  I turned my head and felt myself ready to explode with emotion.

  My eyes settled upon Bree.

  She stared right at me.

  A tear fell from her eye down to her cheek.

  I mouthed to her Are you okay?

  She offered up a quick smile and wiped the tear off her cheek.

  She was all I could look at.

  What the fuck was going on here?

  I took Bree’s hand and we started to walk.

  Everyone had taken their turn speaking about Mitchy.

  The paparazzi got more than enough pictures.

  The fans started to get a little loud, cheering for Mitchy. At one point, they broke into a Filthy Line song, which was amazing to hear.

  I just wanted to get out of there, get a drink and talk to Bree.

  We were ten steps from the SUV when I heard a voice from behind me.

  “What a fucking shame.”

  I looked back and saw the lead singer of Raunchy Recks standing there with the rest of the band.

  “What is?” I asked as I stopped walking.

  I nudged Bree to put her behind me.

  “Shit, we have company,” I heard Jay say.

  “This whole thing,” Neo said. “Losing a legend. Should have never happened.”

  “I agree,” I said. “Sad.”

  “Your fault,” Neo said.

  He pointed at me with his fingers in a gun shape.

  “Gotta take care of your own, brother,” Ven said.

  “We would have done more for him,” Brendan said.

  “We tried,” Conor added.

  “You tried what?” I asked.

  “We offered Mitchy a spot in the band,” Declan said. “He said no fucking way to us.”

  “He’d be alive right now if it wasn’t for you,” Neo said.

  I moved toward Neo and Bree grabbed my shirt.

  “Sab, don’t do it,” Jay said to me.

  “Too late,” I said.

  I jumped at Neo and he swung first.

  His fist clipped my jaw and I saw more than a few stars for a few seconds.

  I managed to get my right arm around his neck and got at least one punch to his face.

  The rest of the two band’s members were tangled up seconds later.

  I heard Toby’s voice in the back of my head, screaming at us for fighting during Mitchy’s service, especially with all the cameras there.

  The paparazzi were having a feast as the two biggest rock bands in the world were throwing punches.

  I shoved Neo away and lined him up for a knockout punch when someone grabbed my arm.

  I turned my head and saw Bree there, eyes wide, fear spread across her face.

  “What the fuck are you assholes doing?” Toby’s voice boomed.

  He got into the middle of the fight and broke it all up.

  Neo let out a whistle and called off Raunchy Recks.

  They did that for the spotlight. To be pricks. Because that’s what they were.

  They backed off as Toby ordered us to get the hell out of there.

  I took Bree’s hand again and when we got into the SUV, I reached for one of the small bottles of whiskey.

  I drank two before I said anything.

  “Sorry.”

  “What was that about?” Bree asked.

  “You know who that was, right?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m… shocked.”

  “We don’t get along with them.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Fuck this,” I said. “I’m done with all of it.”

  Bree touched my hand. “I’m here, Sab. I’m here. Right?”

  I looked at her.

  I nodded.

  That was part of the problem… I just didn’t know how to tell her that.

  I looked around the front of Jay’s rock star palace and looked up to the stars.

  The amount of whiskey in my body… it was way more than what it should have been.

  There was a time in our rock star lives where whiskey wasn’t enough to get the party going, but after Mitchy dying, we all kind of made a silent agreement not to touch that stuff ever again.

  Bree was right by my side.

  When I looked at her and her whiskey laced eyes, we both smiled.

  We flirted in silence.

 
I screamed the word friend in my head over and over.

  But her eyes…

  “We’re fucking famous and in trouble again,” Reed said as he stepped out front.

  He had his phone in his hand and showed me the videos of us tangling up with Raunchy Recks.

  I laughed. “Fuck that.”

  “It’s good for us,” Reed said. “Shows our heart and character.”

  Soon the entire band was out front.

  “Everyone is leaving?” Jay asked.

  “You need to get in bed,” Wren said to him.

  “Only if I can take you with me,” he said to her.

  Jay was wasted.

  Wren wasn’t.

  I was pretty sure the only woman there who was feeling it hard was Bree.

  And probably for all the wrong reasons.

  Which made me feel closer to her in a dangerous way.

  “You two leaving?” Nash asked.

  I looked at Bree again.

  She tried to quietly nod.

  I began to nod too.

  “Great,” Dex said. “From texts to head nods. Good luck.”

  He laughed as he went back into the house.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Jay said. His eyes were half shut. He put a fist into the air. “To Mitchy.”

  “To Mitchy,” Reed said.

  “Mitchy,” Nash said.

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “Mitchy.”

  I took a deep breath.

  There were still shards of the knife in my chest thinking about him being gone for good.

  Nash put his arm around Liv and pulled her close.

  Everyone had someone to turn to. For comfort. For pleasure. To help ease the pain of grief.

  Bree gently placed her hand into mine.

  Maybe I had someone too.

  14

  BREE

  The rock star life.

  That’s what Mia kept calling it.

  I guess that’s what I called it too.

  There weren’t naked women everywhere. There weren’t drugs everywhere. It wasn’t exactly the picture of debauchery it probably had been at one time.

  Even still… waking up in that giant bed… reaching for the remote to open the mechanical windows… shuffling through the massive house to the kitchen… having coffee ready… food prepared when I wanted it… the pool and hot tub, the views and…