Blow My Fuse (Hollywood Demons Book 2)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  A wave of people rush the stage, pushing the metal barrier a few feet. Security works to push them back, but one girl manages to break free and scampers onto the stage to hug Jacob and scream, “I love you!” in his face.

  She wraps her skinny little arms around his waist and hangs on tight while Robbie tries to pry her off the stage. Jacob sings through the mauling, breaking into laughter a few times.

  A red, lacy bra lands at my feet. I pause long enough to pick it up and toss it to Garrett, who hangs it on the end of his bass. My gaze scans the crowd, landing on a topless girl sitting on her boyfriend’s shoulders. She points at Garrett and cups her tits, indicating—I think—that the bra was meant for me. Not sure what she wants me to do with that, I shrug and nod at her and keep on playing.

  The crowd’s still screaming their heads off when we finish. The four of us meet in the middle of the stage to put our arms around each other and bow.

  Robbie tosses a towel my way as I pass by.

  Mallory’s waiting for me, and I push past people to get her into my arms, lifting her in the air. I crash my lips against hers, and she presses my face between her hands, kissing me back just as hard.

  “That was incredible,” she whispers against my lips in between kisses.

  My heart’s still pounding from the show, and I realize I’m dangerously close to hiking up Mallory’s dress and fucking her in front of everyone backstage. Reluctantly, I set her down, but she keeps her arms looped around my neck.

  “I hope Cutter didn’t stick around to watch that,” I mutter.

  “Why? You were amazing.”

  I shrug, still bothered by the choppy start to our set.

  “You’re too hard on yourself.” Mallory slides her hands down my sweaty chest while peering up at me from under her lashes. “You should be hard on me instead.”

  “Done.” I sling my arm around her shoulders and turn her toward the hallway. Surely, there’s an empty room or broom closet around here somewhere.

  We’re thwarted by Valerie herding all of us into our dressing room.

  “Fuck!” Jacob throws his towel at the couch and chugs a bottle of water. “That was insane!”

  Alvin’s still jumping up and down. “Did you see that reaction?”

  Garrett’s more reserved. “Still have a few rough edges to smooth out.” He shoots a glare at Alvin. “And maybe degrease your fingers.”

  “I was sweating my balls off up there, bro.”

  “Guys, I have never been prouder,” Val gushes. “You were born to play crowds this big.”

  She gives each of us a hug, landing on Jacob last. She pats his cheek. “You sounded good.”

  “I’m dying. I behaved all day. I need a drink.” Jacob wipes his towel over his sweaty forehead and gives her one of his pleading puppy faces.

  “We have two more shows,” I remind him. “You can’t afford to get shit-faced tonight.”

  “Did you see that crowd?” He points in the direction of the stage. “We need to celebrate.”

  Shit. What’s the better option here? Let him have a mini-celebration tonight or risk him drowning in a vat of Jack Daniels Sunday after we’ve finished all three shows?

  “We’ll discuss it in a minute,” Val says, pushing Jacob toward the couch. “Sit.” Her eyes gleam. “I heard Mark Cutter’s here tonight.”

  “Uh,” I raise my hand. “Alvin and I met him earlier.”

  Poor Valerie completely deflates. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Yeah, why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” Jacob adds.

  “Well, you were busy with your diva act in here.” I gesture at Garrett. “And no one knew where you were until two minutes before we went on stage. Andrew brought him and introduced us.”

  “I knew working with that crackhead would pay off!” Jacob high-fives me. “You’re the man, Chaser.”

  “Good job.” Val squints. “What did he say?”

  “He was looking forward to sitting down with us.” Val knows I wouldn’t try to undermine her on purpose. Hasn’t she been busting my balls about “networking more” for years now? “Andrew talked us up quite a bit.”

  “Good.” She nods again. “Good, that’s better coming from another musician Cutter already has a relationship with than coming from your manager. Good.”

  If she says good one more time, it’s going to be clear we’re anything but.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mallory

  “One down, two to go.” Val points to Jacob. “For the love of all things holy, stay sober tonight. Fuck your way through that wall of groupies waiting out there, but you have two more shows to nail, and I need you at your best.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Jacob pats her on the back and sips his water.

  “Well, I’m going to go watch Shooting Fences.” Val glances at each one of us. “Anyone joining me?”

  “When do we get to meet them?” Alvin asks.

  The already tense smile on Val’s face fades away. “Well, uh, about that…”

  “What?” Jacob sits forward and frowns at Val.

  “It’s nothing personal. They’re happy you’re here.”

  “But?” Garrett prompts.

  “Well, remember last year when it was all over MTV and in every magazine how they took all that time off to get sober?”

  “Everyone knows that,” Chaser says. “So?”

  Val flaps her hands in the air, and my stomach drops. “Kickstart’s developed a bit of a party reputation.” She drops her gaze. “Their sobriety coach doesn’t want you anywhere near them.”

  Ouch. If I wasn’t a witness to the constant partying going on in the guys’ apartment, I’d be offended on Kickstart’s behalf.

  Chaser glares in Jacob’s direction.

  Jacob shrugs. “Hypocrites.”

  “Sobriety coach?” Garrett scoffs. “What the fuck is that?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like,” Val snaps. “They spent an assload of money to get clean, and the record company isn’t taking chances. They sent someone out on the road to keep them away from all chemical temptations.”

  “That’s the least rock-n-roll thing I’ve ever heard of.” Jacob slaps his leg and doubles over.

  “They’re professionals who want to maintain their career,” Val counters. “Jared almost died of an overdose.” Her prickly demeanor softens. “Please, prove them wrong. Behave this weekend.”

  “Whatever.” Jacob shoos her away.

  “We’ll be there in a few,” Chaser promises her.

  I nudge him with my elbow. I thought we had other plans.

  “Well, that was awkward as fuck,” Alvin mutters as soon as Val leaves.

  “Andrew fucking Lane actually came through.” Garrett lightly punches Chaser’s shoulder. “Good job.”

  “Val can’t even get the guy to return her phone call.” Jacob shakes his head. “But Andrew delivered him on a silver platter.”

  “It was cool of him, for sure,” Chaser says. “But Val’s been working her ass off for us for years.”

  Garrett and Jacob share a look that isn’t missed by Chaser. “What?”

  “Working her ass off? She couldn’t even defend us to some pansy sobriety coach,” Jacob argues.

  Chaser just stares at him.

  “Forget that. Who cares what those old farts think.” Garrett plops down on the couch and stretches his arms across the back. “Thom Woodworth approached us about managing the band.”

  “When?”

  “Earlier.” He smirks at Chaser. “You’re not the only one keeping secrets.”

  “I wasn’t keeping secrets.” Chaser blows out a breath. “Val’s done a lot for us. We wouldn’t be here tonight if she hadn’t gotten us these shows.”

  “Agreed,” Alvin says.

  Garrett holds up his hands in surrender. “Agreed.”

  Music reverberates through the building.

  “Sounds like Shooting Fences has started.” Alvin takes a swig of the brown liquid in his glas
s. “You going to watch?”

  “Yeah.” Chaser grabs a shirt and ballcap, slipping on both before leading me outside.

  It’s even more crowded in the hallway now, although the bulk of people seem to be up ahead, watching the band. A few girls rush over to Chaser and ask him to sign various items.

  While I’m standing to the side, trying to stay out of the way, something rough skims over a spot on my back left bare by my dress. “He must be riding high,” Andrew says from behind me.

  I jump and turn, shaking off his fingers.

  He smiles down at me and touches his leather jacket. “Are you cold?”

  “I’m fine. It’s hot back here.”

  He sweeps his gaze over me. “Yes. It is.”

  My jaw drops, but before I come up with a response, shrill screams pierce the air.

  “Andrew Lane! Oh my God!” One of the girls Chaser had been signing an autograph for rushes toward us.

  “Fuck,” Andrew mutters. “I should’ve waited.”

  He genuinely seems stressed to intrude on Chaser’s moment, which erases my annoyance over our encounter.

  I stay put while Andrew swaggers over and steers the rogue fan Chaser’s way. “Wasn’t this dude friggin’ amazing tonight?” he asks, slinging an arm over Chaser’s shoulders.

  “Yes!”

  Andrew signs a bunch of stuff and tolerates a lot of photos before a big guy waddles over and interrupts. “Andrew, they’re looking for you.”

  “Thanks, dude.” He slaps the guy’s shoulder.

  “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us.” Andrew motions for me to join him and Chaser.

  “Where are we going?” Chaser asks.

  “That photographer I told you about is here.”

  “Do you want me to grab Alvin and the others?” I ask, tripping over my heels to keep up with Andrew’s long-legged pace.

  “I sent Benny to fetch them.”

  Even though Andrew’s not playing tonight, he somehow managed to procure a room for himself backstage. Vinnie and a woman with a camera around her neck are chatting when we enter.

  “Oh, wow. Chaser Adams.” She rushes over. “Judy Herlands. Big fan of yours. Great performance tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Chaser shakes her hand.

  “Mallory Dove, right?” Judy extends her hand to me. “So great to meet you.”

  “Uh, thank you.”

  “Judy’s with HIT Magazine,” Andrew explains.

  “Well, I just started…” She blushes and taps her camera.

  “Yeah, so we thought it would be cool if she got like shots of us hanging together backstage.” Andrew’s so excited, I’m expecting him to blast through the roof any second now. “Something different than their usual pieces to help Judy stand out at her new job.”

  She blushes, and, once again, I’m struck by how thoughtful Andrew can be at times.

  “Our readers love stories about friendships between their favorite bands.” Judy gestures toward me. “And rock star romances are always huge, of course.”

  “Sure,” I mumble still overwhelmed.

  Benny knocks and pushes the door open to announce the rest of Kickstart has arrived.

  “What’s up, brother!” Andrew high-fives Jacob. “Killer show!”

  “You watched?” Jacob asks.

  “Damn right! You dudes rocked the house!”

  Poor Judy’s wide-eyed and pale. Maybe this is too much rock star friendship for her fragile fangirl heart to handle.

  “Do they hang out a lot?” she asks me.

  “Chaser is working on a project with Andrew, so they’ve been playing together quite a bit recently.”

  “Wow. Can we expect a Kickstart/Vicious Vandals collaboration soon, guys?” she asks.

  “You’ll have to wait and see.” Andrew winks at her.

  We pose for some photos while she peppers the guys with questions.

  Eventually, everyone winds down, and after throwing a warning scowl at Andrew, Vinnie walks Judy out.

  “That was cool. Thanks, bro.” Garrett shakes Andrew’s hand.

  “No problem.” Andrew’s gaze slides to Chaser. “Did Chaser tell you Mark Cutter might be interested in working with you? He had to leave before your set, but he’s planning to come see you play Sunday night.”

  “Holy shit?” Jacob punches his fist in the air. “Seriously?”

  Andrew bobs his head up and down. “My thanks for letting me borrow Chaser.”

  Chaser huffs out a laugh.

  “You nodding out on me, bro?” Andrew reaches into his pocket. “I got something for you.”

  “I’m good.” Chaser holds up his hands and takes a step back.

  “You sure?” Andrew waves a baggie of white powder at him. “It’s the same stuff from Col—”

  “I said, I’m fine.” Chaser curls his arm around me. “Let’s go catch the rest of the show.”

  “Are you upset?” I ask when we’re alone.

  “No, I just think it’s rude for us not to watch the band who invited us to open for them.”

  “Andrew does have a way of making everything about him, huh?” I tease.

  “Yeah, but he’s so nice about it—”

  “You can’t be mad?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Hold up!” Alvin calls.

  We stop and turn, waiting for him to reach us.

  Alvin swipes at his nose and lifts his gaze to Chaser. “They’re skiing. After what Val said, I don’t even want to be in the vicinity.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Chaser scowls in the direction of the room we just vacated. “I thought Jacob needed vocal rest?”

  “He’s a big boy.” Alvin shrugs. “Let’s go watch the show.”

  “We don’t need more rumors spreading.”

  Alvin follows Chaser’s gaze. “Andrew doesn’t need the bad press either. It’ll be fine.”

  Somehow, I don’t think it’s that simple. Secrets have a way of coming to light at the worst possible time.

  But it’s not my decision to make. So when Chaser takes my hand, I follow.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chaser

  A loud thump, followed by shrill laughter, wakes me out of a dead sleep.

  “What’s going on?” Mallory mumbles.

  “I don’t know. Stay here.”

  I’d lost track of Garrett and Jacob after the show last night. Andrew had disappeared too. Although, judging from the sounds in the hallway, he didn’t go far.

  “Woooo!” someone screams.

  Thuds and bangs echo up and down the hallway.

  I open the door as Jacob races by in his underwear, followed by Andrew in his black leather thong.

  “What the fuck? It’s five in the morning.”

  “Chaser! We were looking all over for you.” Andrew wraps his hand around my arm and tries to yank me into the hallway.

  “I was sleeping.”

  “Oh, fuck! Run! Security’s coming.” Jacob races past us, then backpedals.

  “No you don’t. Go hide in your own room.”

  Behind me, the phone rings, and I slam the door shut, locking it.

  “Fuckers.”

  “It’s Val,” Mallory calls out.

  I snatch the phone out of her hand. “What?”

  “Please tell me Jacob isn’t responsible for all that noise?”

  “And Andrew.”

  “You need to stop him. The hotel’s going to throw all of us out if they get any more complaints.”

  “Jesus Christ, Val.”

  “Robbie’s on his way up.”

  “Great.” I slam the phone down and search the floor for my jeans.

  “What’s going on?” Mallory asks.

  “Jacob’s going to get us all thrown out.”

  She tosses the covers back. “I’ll help—”

  “No. Stay here.”

  She watches me for a few seconds before agreeing.

  I throw on a T-shirt and stalk into the hallway, running into Robbie.
“Where’d they go?” he asks.

  “That way.”

  Alvin runs around the corner, tripping and then catching himself. “They’re going up on the roof. Hurry.”

  “What?”

  Robbie and I race after him into the stairwell and jog the eight or nine flights up to the door that opens to the roof.

  “Woooo!”

  “Sounds like Andrew,” I mutter. He’s not my responsibility, though, Jacob is.

  My bare feet scratch over the rough roof top tiles. Orange flickering light guides our way to Andrew, Jacob, and Garrett roasting marshmallows over a small black, charcoal grill.

  “You started a fire up here?” Alvin asks.

  Andrew glances up and grins when he sees us. “I paid a guy to let us borrow the rooftop grill. Isn’t that rad?”

  One day I want to start a game where I punch Andrew in the face every time the word rad comes out of his mouth.

  Jacob salutes me with a bottle of whiskey, sloshing enough around for flames to shoot up.

  “Easy, Jacob.” Andrew claps him on the back. “Don’t want to burn the marshmallows.”

  Yeah, that’s what we should be worried about.

  “Why isn’t Pammy here with you?” Jacob slurs. “She’s hot.”

  “She has to be on set early,” Andrew whines the last word. “No fun, that girl, sometimes.” Andrew waves the long metal rod with three blackened, oozing marshmallows skewered to the end in my direction. “Back me up, Chase-man. These days all these chicks wanna have a ‘career,’ right? Real men don’t give a fuck if a woman’s got some corporate gig—”

  From the corner, Garrett giggles. “What corporate chick’s trying to bang you?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Andrew says, not offended in the least. “They wanna go to college or have an acting career, when all I want is someone who looks pretty cooking my damn dinner.”

  “With big tits,” Jacob adds.

  I gaze up at the stars for a second. If he wasn’t absolutely fucking crazy, Andrew would fit in perfectly with lots of bikers I know.

  When I don’t agree with him right away, he pokes me with the sticky end of his skewer. “Right, Chaser?”

  I slap the hot metal away. “That sounded like a whole lot of words for, ‘I don’t know how to find a clit’ to me.”