Page 27

CHAPTER 27

KING

A POWDER KEG WAITING TO EXPLODE

For a couple of nights, Jasmine stayed in my dorm, and she got a front-row seat for the shitshow of a hockey exhibition practice, and still, the only thing she talked about was Willow Pruitt.

With every sharp breath, Jasmine demanded to know why I couldn’t guarantee Willow would go to her birthday party.

What do you say to a six-year-old who’s giddy over the same girl you’re obsessed with?

Nothing.

I sidetracked her with distractions until I dropped her and groceries off at my mom’s house.

Finally, I had a free night to watch Willow.

Rain poured and I almost missed the exit for the lodge by Memorial Park. Usually I came early to scope out the place, figure out where I could park my truck, and find the exits, but I ran late driving Jasmine home and had to work with what I had.

"What’s the name?" The guy at the door held up his clipboard before he did a double take. I didn’t look like any of the other guys in suits or slacks, complaining about the wait to get inside. I kept it to nondescript clothing. Black hoodie and a baseball cap. He frowned. "Uh…are you lost?"

"I’m a friend of the band," I said, careful to keep my voice quiet. "I’m here to pick up equipment."

"Nobody told me anything."

"Are you the guy I’m supposed to give the one-fifty to?" I fished the bills out of my back pocket. "Someone helped them with a parking ticket?"

For a moment, he was undecided. I clearly didn’t look like any of the finance bros. But if I got kicked out, it didn’t matter. I’d find another way into the building?—

"Yeah, I’m the guy who paid the parking ticket. Welcome in."

I nodded and walked through the door.

What kind of bachelor party is this?

When Adam talked about his future one, it sounded like a couple of the guys and cases of beer. Whoever was running this party wanted a bachelor party to get the cops called. The place shook with music; it took a couple of seconds for me to adjust. Too many flashing lights, too many guys drinking. Men stumbled by with loosened ties and bleary faces.

Where the hell is Willow?

Small crowds clung to each other, and I pushed through them, trying to get to the other side of the room, before I spotted her.

My pulse slowed.

Willow stood on stage, guitar in hand, dewy with sweat. Her eyes were closed while she concentrated on the riff, flying through the notes. A huge leather jacket hung off her, but I had a feeling it was more for the company in the room, not because she was cold.

The lodge was a sauna, a complete contrast to the outside.

And no cameras to be seen.

Not one. I knew how to spot cameras.

Someone broke a glass near me and I watched with narrowed eyes. I didn’t like this. I didn’t like anything about it.

"Get the fuck off me," one of the guys snapped. He shoved someone else, and I could hear the crunch of the broken glass as he stormed off.

I resisted the urge to pace.

Maybe if there were some more girls around, I’d feel better but the band was almost all dudes and the only girls were bringing more bottles into the room, like this wasn’t a powder keg waiting to explode.

I didn’t know what to do.

Going to Willow’s shows meant keeping my head down. Low profile. But I couldn’t help the restless feeling in my blood. Something was going to set somebody off.

Edging towards the left, I made my way through the crowd. Getting closer was stupid, but I didn’t have a choice. Even more people poured in from the entrance, the elbow room all but disappearing.

This was spiraling out of control. I shoved people aside at the bar. "Hey!"

"I’ll get to you in a second, pal?—"

"You need to stop serving."

"They don’t pay us to screw the caps back on."

"Yeah? What’s the occupancy here? If I called the fire department, would they bitch me out for wasting their time?"

His eyes drifted to the scene behind me, and he swore under his breath. "I’ll call my manager."

Someone else started shouting. "Call me that again. I fucking dare you."

Fuck .

I moved before my brain could work through things, shouldering through the crowd to the guys melting down. I didn’t know what the hell their history was. I also didn’t give a shit. If they started fighting, everybody else would too, and we were packed in too tightly for that.

I yanked one of them by his shirt collar. "Calm. Down."

"Fuck—"

"Shut up," I snapped, shaking him a little. "You’re going to calm down and you’re going to shut up."

"Yeah, kick his ass!" someone hollered.

"Who is this guy?" Another guy stared. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Hit him! HIT HIM!"

A fist flew from the circle, slamming a guy on the back of the head. He went flying, and they jumped each other, like they legitimately wanted to hurt each other. I couldn’t tell who was the instigator, so I grabbed both, trying to break up the fight.

I’d been in some fucked-up fights, but never tried to stop one.

At shows like these, Willow only got the last song. She had to put up with all the crap just to get her three minutes. If these assholes got the bachelor party shut down before Willow had her time, I’d lose my shit.

There were too many eager faces in front of me, guys joining in, not realizing I could slam them into the fucking tables. Fuck. I didn’t know how to stop this.

" Shit! "

I jerked up.

Willow.