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the farthest corner of the ballroom in Edward Mead’s mansion—yeah, the guy had an actual motherfucking ballroom—with the sounds of celebration going on all around him. Everything there was top of the line: the food, the liquor, the decor; hell, even the catering staff, who’d handled the event so far with such flawless efficiency it was almost like they were invisible. Under normal circumstances, Nick would have probably been impressed. But at that moment, the only thing he could think about was how soon he might be able to sneak out unnoticed so he could take another hit of blow.
    Nick supposed some people might have thought the ballroom was elegant. Shane and Jesse certainly had. But in his opinion it was the epitome of ostentatious douche-baggery. Maybe if he owned a record label and a half dozen other businesses, he’d buy a house with a ballroom, and a library, and a twelve-fucking-car garage, but he highly doubted it. Well, maybe not the garage part; he could have a whole lot of fun filling that thing up. He only had one car now—a cherry red Dodge Viper with black racing stripes—but most of the time it just sat collecting dust in storage. A car wasn’t really necessary in a city like New York, and the label provided a vehicle service that took care of his transportation needs anyway. Still, he liked to take his baby out sometimes and just let her loose. Being chauffeured around definitely had its perks, but there were moments when it made him feel like a goddamn kid stuck in the backseat while his daddy sat behind the wheel. When that feeling got really bad, he knew it was time to take the Viper out.  
    That itchy, restless need to escape was pretty strong at the moment. He didn’t think he could take another minute of celebrating. Not one more fucking minute. What was there to celebrate? As far as he was concerned, this should have been a period of mourning.  
    Eight months back, if someone had asked Nick Ventura to make a list of the top ten things he thought he’d never live to see, the marriage of his brother Shane to Jesse Fucking Seider would’ve been right there at the very top. But that was exactly what he’d witnessed not even two hours ago. He’d stood up there next to Shane as his grudging best man, watching as Jesse and his brother exchanged vows and identical platinum wedding bands in their stupid-ass matching tuxedos. Just remembering their huge, sappy, idiotic grins made Nick want to heave. He imagined he would’ve felt more cheerful at his grandmother’s funeral. That was, if he’d had any kind of relationship with her anymore. He didn’t even know if she was alive or dead, or if his mother was either for that matter.
    Nick firmly pushed that thought away. What did it matter if that bitch was still alive? She’d walked out when he was five and never looked back, left him and Shane with that asshole sperm donor who’d just barely earned the name of father because he’d kept them clothed and fed and hadn’t managed to kill one of them before they got their record deal from Blue Horizon and left that nightmare of a house behind. In Nick’s opinion, that made his mom as good as dead anyway.
    “Fucking bitch,” Nick said under his breath. Not that anyone could hear him, regardless. The music was loud and it looked like everyone else was out on the dance floor. He couldn’t see Shane, but there was Jesse off to the left, dancing with Luck’s manager, Emmanuel. Em had his arms linked around Jesse’s neck and they were swaying slowly to the music. Whatever he was saying to Jesse had Jesse laughing and smiling wide. Nick didn’t really get their friendship, but whatever.  
    Nick got to his feet slowly. For a few seconds the room seemed to toggle back and forth like a seesaw. Goddamn. He was even more wasted than he’d thought. He gripped the back of his chair until the motion stopped, then looked around, trying to find his brother. How the hell was it possible that Nick