Forbidden Song releases January 11th and this time, you can make sure it gets to your e-reader right away.
You can get it on:
Cliff fought not to glance back at the
closed partition door as Klement talked to the roadies about the show’s
sound and lights. Christine was being quiet as a mouse, but it was only a
matter of time before the others discovered her. A twinge of worry gnawed at
his gut. He hoped Klement wouldn’t be too pissed about
his stowaway.
His
jaw clenched at the childish sentiment. Fuck Klement if he was. The guy was too
controlling with how the band worked as it was. Klement wasn’t
his father and had no say on his social life. If Klement could have his chick on the bus, Cliff
should be able to have one too. Okay, so far Christine didn’t seem interested
in being “his chick,” but he hoped that after a time he could persuade her to
change her mind. She was like a gift dropped in his lap: beautiful, smart,
sympathetic to the trials he had to face in his work. And most of all, she was a
challenge, since she wasn’t in his lap.
Not yet.
Of
course, maybe that’s where he’d fucked up with Kat. He’d just
assumed she’d tumble into his bed like the last ones. Cliff had enjoyed the
chase with his first few girlfriends, but as his fame grew, all prospect of
pursuit faded. Women lined up to be with him on any terms.
Well,
Christine had terms; that was clear. He just needed to find out what they were.
He
had a feeling he would enjoy meeting them.
Roderick
started to head towards the back of the bus. Shit. They’d only gone about twelve miles. He’d
hoped to hold off the big reveal until at least thirty, or until they were out
of cell service.
“Hey, Rod,” Cliff said, frantic to distract
him. “What did you think of Deity’s set?”
“It was pretty cool,” the drummer said, eyebrows
knitting at the abrupt question. “I liked the new song, though I haven’t made
my mind up on the percussion.”
Kat
elbowed him. “Oh, it was great and you know it. And so
romantic of him to write a song based on one of Shana’s books.”
“I suppose.” Rod snickered. “I still can’t
believe he ended up with a lady who writes bodice rippers.”
“They are not bodice rippers!” Kat shouted,
poking Rod in the chest as the roadies laughed. Cliff took a step back. He’d
learned really fast that you did not
flip Kat shit for her choice of reading material. She may be tiny, but she was
fierce.
Kat continued her tirade. “They are
historically accurate stories that have a happily-ever-after and depict strong
women who get what they want and men who encourage their empowerment. Dante’s
smart enough to see that.”
Klement
chuckled. “All right, you two. Break it up.”
Kat
sighed. “Fine. But he really should read a romance
novel before knocking them. In fact, I have one in the back that he’d—”
Cliff
intervened. “Give it up, Kat. Rod doesn’t read books
period.”
“I do too. I just don’t read fiction,” Rod
retorted, rubbing his wrist. “Anyway, my hand is killing me. I wanna grab my
compression sleeve.”
Cliff
stepped in front of the door. “Why don’t we smoke a bowl first?”
“Yeah,” chimed in Steve, the light tech.
Rod
paused. “Do you have any this time, or are you
intending on begging from Klem’s stash again?”
“I have my own,” Cliff said, trying not to
sound defensive, knowing Christine could hear. He didn’t want her to think he
was a mooch. “And I don’t beg off of him. He’s just generous.”
“I have my own too,” said Greg, the sound
engineer. “Got some sticky chronic from the weed store. God, I love Washington.”
Cliff
gave Rod a pointed look and silently blessed the roadie.
They
all settled on the bench seats and around the little kitchen table, but as
Cliff loaded a bowl, taking as much time as possible, he forgot a vital fact: Kat
didn’t smoke weed.
He
froze with the lighter in his hand as she got up from the bench seat and headed
to the partition door. “Kat, wait.”
She
stopped and turned with a quizzical look. “What? I’m just grabbing
my laptop.”
“I…um…” He scrambled for a distraction to
keep her up front, but nothing came.
She
shook her head and opened the door. Then gasped.
Cliff
flinched.
“What are you doing back here?”
Kat demanded.
“Cliff said I could tag along.” Christine’s
voice was shaky and defensive. “You know, for my research paper.”
Klement
bolted up from his seat looking furious. He met Kat in the doorway and glared
in Christine’s direction. “God damn it, Chrissy!”
Chrissy? Cliff frowned. Did Klement know her
already?
Klement
rounded on Cliff, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Quinn is going to
fucking kill you.” He closed his eyes and brushed his hand over his face as if
the world were ending. “He’s going to kill all of us.”
Cliff
blinked, confused. He’d only had two beers and no
hit off the pipe yet. “What does Quinn have to do with Christine being on the
road with us?”
Klement’s
words came like a punch in the stomach. “She’s his baby sister.”
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