Page 23 of Edge of Heaven (Crimson Edge #2)

Taryn

White powder is arranged in thick, vertical lines on the glass coffee table.

Callum rolls up a hundred-dollar bill and uses it to snort the first line.

He passes the bill to Dusty, who does the same thing.

The rest of the band follows suit before turning to me.

Callum’s drummer, whose nickname is Joker, proffers the makeshift straw to me and I shake my head.

“No, thanks.”

“God, you’re a fucking killjoy!” Callum snaps, scowling at me.

Using drugs is one thing I won’t let him manipulate me into, and he seems to understand that’s an area where I’ve drawn a firm line in the sand.

“I’ll do her share!” A perky brunette with the biggest breasts I’ve ever seen steps forward. Joker hands her the bill, she snorts a line and then sighs happily.

Like it’s the best thing ever.

At least no one is looking at me anymore.

The past week has been a nightmare.

Callum has been insufferable since the fashion show, constantly asking me if I’ve heard from Chey or Stevie, making plans to go to L.A. with me on my next trip so we can hang out with them again, and making a nuisance of himself any time I talk about anything work-related.

He’s suddenly fascinated by my career—the same career he wanted me to give up so I wouldn’t be away from him so often—and he hovers more than ever. I have a feeling he’s looking to see if my career can in any way help his since the band’s new album hasn’t sold like previous ones.

“Hey.” Ryleigh’s voice makes me jump, and I turn in surprise.

I didn’t realize they’d invited Crimson Edge to the party, and I’m momentarily relieved.

Now, at least, I have something of a buffer.

Callum doesn’t care what other people think for the most part, but he does behave a little better around Crimson Edge.

From what I understand, there was something in the contract drawn up when they invited Crimson Edge to be their opening act—any aggressive behavior could result in a fine, so that keeps things on an even keel.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, giving her a quick hug.

“The guys wanted to make an appearance so it doesn’t seem like they’re snubbing them.” She looks around. “But my gut tells me we’re not going to stay long. At least, Angus and I aren’t.”

“Please stay for a little while,” I beg softly. “He’s doing coke, which means he’s going to be an even bigger asshole than usual in about thirty minutes.”

She grimaces. “We’ll stay for a little while… drugs just aren’t our scene. That’s not part of the band’s image. They like to party but no drugs.”

“Mine either,” I murmur.

Her expression changes, like there’s something on her mind, but then she smiles. “So tell me about the Alexa Humboldt fashion show—how exciting!”

“It was!” I tell her about the clothes and all the fun people I met. “And Alexa’s itty-bitty, like probably four-eleven. She’s tiny but fierce as fuck. When she walks into a room, people pay attention.”

“I love a woman with a commanding presence!” Ryleigh says, fanning herself playfully.

“You’d like her,” I say.

“I wonder if there’s a way for me to spin an article about her in Rock Harder ,” she says thoughtfully. “I’m trying to incorporate as many stories about strong, successful women as possible but there just aren’t that many in the music business.”

“She’s the one who dressed Casey Hart from the beginning of her career,” I tell her. “And since Crimson is signed to Casey’s label, you might be able to spin it in some way to focus on that.”

“Hmm.” Ryleigh nods. “I’m going to have to think about that. Thank you. I didn’t realize she used to design Casey’s clothes.”

“I guess Alexa was just starting out and Casey gave her a shot.”

“I love that.”

As we talk, more and more people arrive, and pretty soon I don’t even see Callum, which is nice.

“Hey, beautiful.” Mick’s voice gives me chills.

I smile, though I don’t turn or acknowledge him in any way.

“If we get a chance,” he continues. “There’s a little alcove in the hallway that’s hidden. Maybe we can talk for a few. Let’s see what happens in the next twenty minutes or so… Callum is completely wasted. I think he’s going to pass out soon.”

That would be amazing.

“I’ll be around,” I whisper before heading for the ladies room.

I touch up my lipstick and look in the mirror. There are faint bags under my eyes, but there’s also a twinkle now. It’s because of Mick, no doubt about that, but that’s okay. He brings joy to my life, something I haven’t had much of in the last couple of years.

When I leave the bathroom, even more people have shown up, and now the hallways are crawling with guests. The party is up in one of the presidential suites that the guys rented out for the evening, but there have to be over a hundred people here, so it’s spilling out into the hall.

I make note of the alcove Mick mentioned, but it’s not private enough now that there are so many people—and the elevators just opened, another group spilling into the hall.

The smell of marijuana wafts through the air, sweet and heavy, and I wrinkle my nose in distaste. I would do anything to be back in L.A., at my mom’s house, curled up on the couch reading Toby a story. Or watching one of his favorite movies. Making popcorn together.

Despite Mick being a touring musician, I can’t help but think that he would enjoy being there with us too when he’s not on the road. He’s the kind of guy who has balance, and who knows when to turn off his rockstar persona and just be… Michael.

Someone’s calling my name, and I look over at Callum. He has a blonde on one side and a redhead on the other, motioning for me to join them.

Ugh.

I don’t know why he’s so determined to have threesomes and gang bangs and all kinds of other sex that includes multiple partners.

Like having one person at a time isn’t enough.

I’ve always been firm about that kind of thing, but unlike with drugs, he keeps trying.

And now we’re in a big group where I’m going to have to turn him down in front of his friends—something I know he won’t like.

“All I’m missing is the brunette, baby!” he calls to me. “Come sit on my lap and show us a good time.”

“Now you know I don’t like to share,” I say, keeping my voice light. I eye the two girls he’s with. “Beat it—before I beat the shit out of both of you.”

The girls look surprised, but there must be something in my eyes that tells them I mean business because they scatter. Pretending to be jealous saves face for Callum and gets me out of an awkward situation as well.

“Now what’d you go and do that for?” Callum complains, but his head lolls to the side and his eyes flutter closed.

He’s definitely fucked up, drunk and high on who knows what.

Which bodes well for me since I have no intention of having sex with him in front of people or joining him in any of the shenanigans he talks about.

He seems to doze off, and I make a show of smoothing his hair back from his face and kissing the top of his head. The band seems to be constantly watching me and if they remember anything tomorrow, I want it to be of me being nice.

“Smooth,” Ryleigh whispers in my ear.

“Not my first day as Callum’s girlfriend,” I mutter. “I’ve had to learn some tricks to survive.”

“Someday, you’re going to tell me the real reason you put up with him.”

I nod. “I will. Promise.”

It’s nearly two in the morning, and I’m trying to decide whether or not I can escape back to our room. Callum will wake up soon—no way he’s out for the night—but then he’ll drink some more, smoke more pot, and pass out again. He usually starts the night with cocaine and ends it with weed.

“Taryn!” I hear my name and whirl to see Mick, a look of panic on his face. “Cops are on the way up. Someone complained—they’re going to raid the place, and there are drugs everywhere.”

Our eyes lock, and mine must be filled with panic.

“Let me get you out of here.”

“Yes.” I don’t have a choice because just then, someone yells, “Cops!” and everything goes wild.

“Come on.” Mick closes his hand around mine and pulls me out of the room, down the hall, and around the corner toward what appears to be a freight elevator. Angus, Ryleigh, and Tate are already there, motioning for us to hurry.

“Come on!” Angus hisses.

We run into the elevator and the doors close behind us.

“Fuck.” Tate shakes his head. “That would’ve been a disaster. Drugs fucking everywhere.”

“The head of security at this hotel knows my dad,” Angus says. “He texted me to give me a head’s-up.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. I’m not talking to anyone directly, just grateful they included me in their escape plan. Well, I’m sure it was Mick’s doing, but Angus and the others didn’t have to wait for us.

We exit in the shipping and receiving area, and there’s a guy in a suit who nods to Angus.

“There’s a taxi waiting to take you for a drive around the city,” he says with a smile. “I’ll text you when the coast is clear.”

Angus shakes his hand. “I owe you one, man.”

“I’ll hold you to it!”

We climb into a van that pulls around the corner.

Even from here, we can hear the sirens and I’m eternally grateful I got out of there.

Getting arrested during a drug raid would be disastrous in my bid for custody, not to mention a blow to my reputation.

Supermodels aren’t necessarily meant to be angels—there are certainly a ton of them who’ve behaved badly over the years—but I don’t want to be one of them.

That’s not the image I want for myself or the example I want to set for my son.

I’m so thankful that Mick’s first thought was to get me out of there, because there’s no doubt in my mind I would be in jail right now if he hadn’t.

And I have to take some time to think about what that really means.