Storm must be curious too, because he stops walking.
“What’s going on?” I ask a woman who’s shaking her head as she ambles away from the crowd.
“Some idiot jumped into the fountain during the last show. Emergency services just fished him out. He’s lucky he didn’t die.”
Damn. “That’s crazy.”
She nods in agreement before strolling away.
“Maybe we should split up?” I suggest.
This way, the odds of finding him are better. Because I’m exhausted.
Storm mulls this over. “I guess—”
Suddenly, he stops talking and I stop breathing.
Because twenty feet away is a dripping-wet Phoenix Walker…being dragged away by two police officers.
“I didn’t pee in the pool,” Phoenix slurs.
“It’s not a pool,” one of the officer’s grits out. “It’s a fountain.”
“You piece of fuck,” Phoenix grumbles as we race over. “Go shit yourself.”
I’m so screwed.
“Calm down,” the second officer says.
“Don’t tell me what to do, prick. I’m Phoenix fucking Walker.”
He yells the last part so loud I wince.
“I’m aware,” the officer states. “My daughter’s a big fan.”
“Wait,” I tell the officers as they lead him away. “I’m his—”
I stop talking because I don’t think telling them I’m his sober companion when he’s clearly trashed will work in my favor.
“Friend,” I settle on, despite the way it makes my insides twist. “Please don’t arrest him.”
“Arrest me, pussies,” Phoenix roars, trying to get out of their hold. “I don’t fucking care.”
I’d punch him if we weren’t in front of law enforcement.
Storm glares at his friend before looking at the officers. “You said your daughter’s a fan, right?”
One of the officer’s nods. “Yeah. Why?”
“I’ll give you four front-row tickets to tomorrow night’s show and backstage passes if you let us take him back to his room.”
For a moment, I don’t think they’re going to agree, but then the officers look at each other and shrug. “All right, but if it happens again, we’re taking him in.”
“It won’t,” I assure them as they let go of Phoenix.
“Thanks,” Storm says, as we each grab one of his arms. “I’ll make sure the tickets are at will call tomorrow.”
They walk off and we escort a belligerent and wet Phoenix back to the hotel.
Although he doesn’t make it easy because he keeps yelling obscenities and drawing attention to himself.
“Will you stop?” I grit through my teeth when we step inside the elevator, and he asks some poor old lady if she wants to suck him off.
Understandably horrified, she threatens to get security.
“I’m so sorry.” The moment we reach our floor, I shove him out of the elevator. “What is wrong with you?”
“Too fucking much,” Storm mutters under his breath.
“I just wanted a hummer,” Phoenix bellows loud enough to wake the dead.
We wrangle him down the hallway as he proceeds to sing, “（I Can’t Get No） Satisfaction” by The Rolling Stones. His distinctive melodic voice bounces off the walls of the hallway as he struggles against us.
He ends up putting up such a fight he breaks free from our hold. “Peace out, bitches.”
The control I was trying to maintain snaps as Storm surges forward and snatches his arm.
“You need to shut the fuck up. Right now.” I slam my hand over his mouth. “Or so help me God, I will bring you back to that fountain and drown your ass.”
His voice is muffled against my palm. “What’s in it for me?”
I remove my hand. “What?”
“What do I get out of it?” he slurs.
I look at Storm, who shrugs.
Annoyed, I huff, “What do you want?”
Those blue eyes languidly peruse every inch of my body before settling on my face. “You.”
All his partying must have destroyed a few brain cells. “I am not fucking yo—”
“Kiss me.”
That’s even more appalling. “Absolutely not.”
Tilting his face up to the ceiling, Phoenix starts yelling obscenities again.
Dammit.
“Fine,” I concede, because I’m desperate for him to be quiet. “I’ll do it.”