GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

how Pure Grit could play almost any club, any type of music, and rock that shit. All the members were versatile and knew what the hell they were doing. He couldn’t ask for more. For the most part, they all got along—another rarity he was grateful for.
    Stage smoke engulfed them as he went to town once more, his hair swinging in his face, mixing with the sweat and sticking to his cheek. He licked a salty trickle and smiled at himself. The vibration inside his body almost trumped an orgasm… He felt alive, free, without a care. As the next song came to an end, the crowd erupted in applause and demanded more. Javier did his usual smooth talking, promising to be back soon…and then, there were the women. They stood close to the stage, their hair and nails done, their lips glossy and wearing the skimpiest of clothing one could find.
    But, he didn’t really see them. Tonight, Silver had stayed home, unable to make the gig due to work obligations and her being exhausted. He missed her. More times than not, she’d stop through if his gig was local. She’d sometimes have Clara with her, or a few work buddies. He’d buy them drinks, chit chat, try and feel her up a bit on the sly, then hop back on stage with her perfume lingering around him like a secret crush. He loved being in love… much to his damn surprise. It was a hell of a feeling to hold on tight to a woman who was a reflection of him, and him, one of her. His ego must’ve been huge and voracious, for he loved a woman just like himself… self love at its finest.
    There was no doubt in his mind that he and Silver were cut from the same cloth, and he wanted a life with her—something long term, something withstanding. Paw and Denise liked her, too, and so did Javier. Mawmaw would have liked her, as well. How could they not? The woman was damn good to him; she wasn’t needy, but she made him feel needed. How she managed such a feat, he wasn’t certain, but he was grateful for the shit.
    “Hey, Zenith, man,” Javier called out as the crowd began to thin. “You want something for the road?”
    “It depends. Mike’s ass looks lit. I’ll have to take the keys. If not me, then who’s driving?” he asked sliding off his seat and starting the process of packing up.
    “Mike’s going to leave his van here and stay over his cousin’s house tonight. We get to ride back with Black Iris.”
    Black Iris was a Goth band from Syracuse, too; they played right before them that night. They were accomplished, known citywide, and had their own self appointed stage bus with a hired driver. So, they offered to take them back to their digs.
    “Cool, I’ll get me a little something then.” Javier gave a chin check and marched over to the bar, while he stayed back with the other band members who cursed and complained, as they often did once the liquor warmed their brains.
    “We better get fucking paid tonight. Last night, Trevor tried to stiff us,” Flip grumbled. “I about beat the shit out of him.”
    “Yeah, he did try to pull a fast one. That wasn’t what we agreed to and that’s why I told Javier to get everything in writing from him. He trusted that son of a bitch too much because they knew each other from way back. He tried to skim off like $800, trying to say the head count didn’t pair up. That was a goddamn lie.” Zenith explained as he grabbed two heavy duty Velcro straps. “That place was filled to capacity. We always sell out at Vipers.”
    “I know, man. And that’s chump change to him.” Flip chided. Zenith nodded in agreement. “Hey, you want something?” Zenith pointed over to the bar. “Javier said Black Iris is taking us home tonight, so we don’t have to drive… Bottles up! Last call for alcohol!”
    Flip grinned. “Yeah, I’ll be over there.”
    “Bet.” Zenith stepped off the stage and made his way to the bar. He was pleased to see the crowd had thinned as the 4:00 a.m. hour struck. The all too familiar scent of Mary Jane filled his