TANTRIC (Book 3 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 73: Front Men Hit The Road But Always Come Home

"VIP? That's what we are calling it?"

"Yeah. Very Improper Pussy."

I fucking lost my shit. Only Matt would say that about his daughter.

It was less funny however, minutes later he when bribed the hotel manager to let us into Riley's suite and we walked in on a mortified Row and Riley, whom scrambled to cover themselves in bedsheets.

Matt sighed and swigged on a bottle of tequila as he settled himself against a piece of bedroom furniture.

"Kids, it's like this. By my count, you are about five fucks past anybody's acceptable count for break-up sex."

Riley nearly choked at that.

"I like you Riley, I really fucking do," Matt continued, waving the bottle of tequila, "but I'm not going to let you ruin my daughter's reputation as a serious artist. This doesn't work. It never works." He takes another swallow. "Well, I take that back. It does work, one way. If you manage your spouse's solo career, that sometimes works. But that's only assuming the marriage is solid. So here I am, giving you the goddamn ultimatum again. Riley, do not fuck my daughter ever again unless a) you are no longer Strut's manager or b) one day in the distant future, she quits the band and goes solo, and you put a ring on it. I mean it this time. I'm out of fucking patience and I will end you in this industry. Row, do not crawl into you manager's bed and tempt him ever again, unless you want to lose all credibility in your band. I know you can hear me under that pillow, Rowan!!!You aren't a goddamn ostrich, you know!!!!" Matt passed the bottle to me. "Anything you want to add, Leed?"

I took a long swig and said, "Yeah. I'm so fucking sorry about this, Riley."

Riley sighed and took his glasses off, throwing them on the nightstand as he covered his face with his hands, then looked down at the lump that was Row, her grey curls peaking out from underneath the pillows where she was hiding. He put a hand affectionately on her head."Not your fault, Leed. Completely mine. I just...bloody hell, I miss her and it makes me lose all reason."

"Feel that, Brother," I assured him, because not having Ash with me was trippin' me up right about that time, too.

And I'd like to say that's the gist of the tour drama, but it wouldn't be a tour if Madam didn't throw shit off balconies. This time it was Mac throwing Adam's favorite Ibanez off the balcony because he didn't come "home" to their suite two nights in a row. These Skid Marcs' dudes do not let anybody give up the party easy, and Adam is just too nice to tell them to fuck off before he's shit-faced and passing out in Jax's suite.

Trace called a Soundcrush band meeting that was basically going to be a Madam intervention but Skid Marcs waltzed in and tried to take the blame for corrupting Adam. Mac wasn't having it.

"He's a goddamn grown-ass man. If he can't say no to you pushing shots on him, Artie, how am I supposed to trust he's saying no to fangirls pushing their tits into his hands while I'm down the hall nursing our daughter?"

"Hey that's not fair, and you know it," Adam grumbled. "I've never given you any reason to accuse me of being unfaithful."

"Right, I forgot. Your dick sleptwalk into Arabella's mouth last tour..."

"Goddammit, I can't be held responsible for morning wood and that crazy bitch's depravity!" Adam snapped, leaping up as he walked the floor with Lennon.

"Watch what the fuck you say. That crazy bitch is, unbelievably, still a big part of my life," Bodie hopped up, waltzed to the kitchen, and got energetic with the refrigerator, rustling Perrier and slamming doors.