Page 80 of Second Sets Omnibus

I figured. You’ve been a busy girl lately. Keep up the good work. Don’t worry about me.

I snort. Right. Don’t worry about her. That’s all I do. If it wasn’t for the nurse and Korrine sharing the responsibility of caring for her, I’d be drowning in it all.

Looking back, I take in the boys who have clawed their way into my heart as they huddle around the Tahoe and slowly unload their gear.

Thankfully, the street festival workers let us drive it back here and back it up to the stage. Or we’d have had to walk a milethrough the enormous crowds and back for more. Asher and Kieran pop the doors on the Tahoe and begin unloading it.

A blush takes over my cheeks, and I look away, focusing on the flapping curtain dangling backstage. In two hours, Whispered Words will put on the show of a lifetime for a roaring crowd of eager fans who came from across the country to see them. Since their ClockTok fame, their fan base has grown exponentially.

My heart skips a beat, anticipation shooting through me. Every time I see them perform; it never ceases to amaze me. Their music. Them. It all clicks in my soul like this entire thing we’re doing is meant to be, and fate brought us together like this.

Over the past three weeks, their social media presence has blown through the damn roof. Like an elevator exploding through the ceiling and flying into space, type of boom. The boys have recorded their EP at the school, uploaded their music to The Dot, and successfully invested in merch. All in a short period. It’s like all they needed was for me to light a fire under their ass and get them going with these goals. My chest puffs with pride watching my little worker bees make their dreams come true. I’d say I’m a proud mama, but that would be awkward. I’m the proud woman, standing on the sidelines, watching as their empire grows with every song they sing.

“Jesus, it’s hotter than Satan’s asshole out here,” Rad gripes, tugging at the collar of his new shirt. I’m sure he can’t wait to tear it off. “I’m sweating like a whore in church,” he whines more, puffing out his bottom lip like a damn child.

“You are a whore in church,” I mutter playfully. “But the shirts, huh?” I ask with a grin, slapping his hand away and plucking his lip.

He groans, catching my wrist. “Yeah. They’re cool, Pretty Girl. All fancy with our band name on it, but I’m so restricted.” Rad leans in closer to my ear. “It feels like a damn lake in mypants. My balls are so sweaty, babe,” he pouts, begging me with his eyes to give him permission to strip them off and air out his dangly bits.

“Keep your pants on, Cowboy. You can’t scare away the crowd. You can air those out later tonight, in private,” I say, smoothing out his shirt that sticks to his skin. His lips pop open in retort, but he’s cut off.

“The sun will set soon, and it’ll cool down when it does,” Asher grunts, rolling his amp down the ramp attached to the back of Kieran’s SUV. “Please keep your dick in your pants.” He scowls in Rad’s direction. “We’re in public,” he mutters the last part with a headshake. “And there might be children present. The last thing you need is a trip to jail.”

Rad recoils at the thought of jail but continues his rant anyway. “But it’s hot now. Can’t I strip?” Rad whines, pulling at the ends of his shirt, attempting to take it off.

“You heard Evil Ash. There’s definitely a no stripping rule on stage,” I say, fixing his shirt and earning a scoff. “But I do have an idea.”

Rad’s eyes widen when I whip out my knife and flick it open, exposing the sharp blade gleaming in the sun.

“Pretty Girl,” he says with apprehension. “I might be into a little stabby-stabby in the sack, but uh…” he trails off when I pull the sleeves away from his skin and yelps when the blade tears through the fabric, eliminating the sleeve. I swear his body sags in relief when the slight breeze blows through, cooling him off. “Ah, finally. Fuck. I think I love you, Pretty Girl. Will you marry me?” he asks breathlessly as I do the other sleeve and even cut down the sides to expose his ribs.

“Evil Ash?” Asher huffs, amusement pulling the edge of his lips. “We’ll discuss that later.” I roll my eyes at his attempt to discipline me.

We definitely won’t be discussing that later. What is he going to do? Spank me? Bend me over his knee and tell me I’ve been a bad River? I shiver. Okay, so it doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me. He seems like the—take control in the bedroom—type. I’m down for that only if he’s ready to take on a brat.

Over the last three weeks, Asher and I have grown a little closer. We aren’t besties by any means, and sometimes I want to smash his skull in the doorway, but we’re getting there. Just recently, we’ve gotten into this push-and-pull sort of relationship mixed with heavy amounts of sexual tension. One day, Asher will blow his lid and take me like I know he wants to. So, I’ll keep pressing his buttons and getting on his last nerve.

“Fine.” Rad frowns, looking up at the back of the stage, losing his pout.

A closed, dark curtain cuts off the audience’s view, separating us from the growing crowd beyond. Our stage is nestled in the back of Central Park, situated just past the large fountain, and facing a blocked-off street. Several businesses line the road, towering above us. People drunkenly walk the streets, free to roam without worrying about traffic. It’s street festivals like this that I live for. The atmosphere, people, and smells of food—make it perfect.

People hoot and holler as they roam the blocked-off streets of the Celebration. Police barricades sit at the end of every downtown road, forcing traffic to avoid this area. Not like they’d get through the crowds or people, anyway.

The Central Fall Celebration started over fifty years ago. Street vendors who offer food, wood carvings, toys, and anything you can imagine line the streets. Bands play on five different stages, placed around a ten-block radius. It’s practically a holiday for the people of Central City. A time to let loose, drink, eat, and socialize with everyone in their path. It’s the only timeboth sides of the city come together and celebrate as one unit, bringing in the new season with a bang.

“Sounds like-like a lot of people are here already,” Callum mumbles, hanging tight to his bass case with wide eyes, white-knuckling it. A large lump bobs in his throat when he swallows hard, frantically looking around.

“It’s your fans. You go on in two hours, but everyone is already lining up at the front of the stage.” I peek between the curtains. “Yup, there’s already two or three rows of people.”

Even Tessa and Sara sit front and center as usual with their tits pushed up to their chins and fake smiles on their faces. A gaggle of girls surrounds them, moving their arms excitedly around, anticipating the boys getting on stage. Great. Just who I want to deal with all night. The boys have already dismissed them repeatedly, and I’m not sure how they’re not getting the hint. Maybe I need to jump one of the boys on stage and claim what’s mine for them to get the message to fuck off.

Asher’s grin grows when he stops beside me, peeking out. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles in awe. “You got us somewhere, Little Brat.” Color me shocked when he places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. Dare I say he’s happy and proud? “This is the best thing anyone’s ever helped us accomplish.”

Meeting his eyes, I offer him a soft smile and tap his hand resting on my shoulder.

Something odd happens inside my body when his praise hits my ears. I stand taller. My chin juts out, and my heart pounds with excitement. If Asher happens to call me good girl, I might drop to my damn knees and suck his soul from his dick.

“You almost sound proud of me, Evil Ash,” I quip, swallowing the odd feeling bursting inside me. “Is Daddy proud?” I bat my eyelashes, poking the rigid bear.