love with is one of the bad guys. Ronnie's had it too hard for too long. That's why I stuck the condom in his pocket that day. I didn't want him to screw up the first good thing that's come his way in years. Besides, Asuka would've liked Lola Saints. Eh, what am I kidding myself? Asuka liked everybody.
“When we get the all clear and leave the safe house, you'll get them back. For now, there's a landline you can use,” Milo says, entering the living room and pausing to take a look around. “Phones can be tracked. We certainly don't need anymore … excitement right now. One step at a time.”
“No disrespect meant to Treyjan, of course,” Hayden begins when she walks in next, winking at the cops as they pass by each other. “But I think this will be good for us. A break from the road, a chance to get our heads on straight.” She smiles sweet enough to give me a fuckin' cavity. I look away from her and move up to the stairs. Ain't gonna be hanging around down here. I want to fuck Naomi and fall asleep. That's it. Well, maybe I'll shoot up first, but that's debatable. The come down from tar is a bitch. Besides, the shit we've been dealing with is only getting worse. I should be keeping a clear head here. It's just … once this first forty-eight hours is over, and Trey's not in such critical condition, I'll feel better. I put one foot on the stairs and pause when an unfamiliar voice answers.
“My thoughts exactly, Ms. Lee.” I look over at the door and in walks America, Amatory Riot's manager, smiling from ear to ear like a shark. She's covered in fading bruises and one arm's in a sling, but otherwise, she looks like a lawyer or something. All slicked up and shiny. Suit that costs as much as a small car, diamond bracelet on her uninjured arm, red, red lipstick spread across her mouth.
“America?” Naomi asks, blinking at her in surprise. Hayden just squeals and throws her arms around America's neck, prompting a very savage and extremely short-lived sneer. America untangles herself carefully.
“It's nice to see you,” she says, looking pointedly at Naomi. “All of you.” With a snap of her fingers, a roadie stumbles in carrying a guitar case and depositing it near the table and chairs in the dining area. “I brought Spencer here with me.” America glances over her shoulder at Milo. “She's trustworthy. I can vouch to her character.” She clears her throat and moves further into the house, looking around at the ceilings, the duck paintings on the walls, the cobwebs in the corners of the room. “Along with some extra equipment. If we're going to be here for any period of time, we might as well be productive.”
I pause with one hand on the stair railing and watch her interaction with her band and with Milo. He doesn't seem surprised to see her, so I'm guessing they talked. If he's okay with her then so am I. Besides, America was nearly beat to death on that bus. Lola told us point blank that she was their target, so she's obviously not involved. Anyway, Naomi told her everything we know, so if she was out to get us, I guess she would've gotten us by now.
Dax stumbles in next, arm around Kash's neck as he struggles to stay on his feet, sweat soaking his brow and sticking his shirt to his skin. The skinny druggy – Wren – follows after with Blair, Josh, and a pale faced Jesse. The gang's all here now, I guess. Except for Trey. I swallow back the pain.
“We're going to practice, practice, practice,” America says, making eye contact with all of her band members. “And we're going to get back on the road as soon as is humanly possible.” She spins around on her heel and crosses her good arm over her belly. “Officers, do you happen to know a timeframe for us?” The Pube Hair guy steps forward, eyes drifting towards the door like he'd rather just get out of here. Don't blame him. The thought of staying even a night or two in this place makes me feel stifled.
“I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't. It all
Lis Wiehl, Sebastian Stuart