Page 101 of Silver Sweet

RJ eyes the dance floor, bobbing his head to the music. “I’m getting the sense you don’t like me, man.”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to come in like a fucking feather duster.” I stare him down. “Sorry if you like being tickled.”

He lets out a long whistle. “Damn.” RJ smiles at Tom. “You picked up another asshole drummer? Did he get assigned to you?”

Tom’s lips slowly part in shock. “You know about my drummer problem?”

“Yeah,” RJ laughs. “I do listen to you.”

I bet Tom does not fucking shut up in bed. My throat tries to close. My eyes feel dry and raw, like I haven’t slept for four days straight. Jealousy simultaneously boils my blood and flattens me like roadkill. I feel crushed.

And angry. Because RJ doesn’t deserve to hear about Tom’s issues when he’s unwilling to meet him on the same level.

“Hey,” I call out to RJ, recapturing his gaze as I force out, “This asshole drummer is sticking the fuck around. So give me your name if you want to keep touching my singer.”

“Your singer,” he repeats.

“Yeah,mine.” I skewer him with one fatal look.

RJ swallows a stiff sip of beer, then rubs his lips with the heel of his palm. “Full name is Nikolai Rurik Kotova Junior. But no one calls me Nikolai. That’s my dad’s name. RJ is easier, and like I said, less of a fucking mouthful. And before you ask,I am Russian-American.Emphasis onAmericanbecause when my family immigrated here, they took the feminine form of the name legally. Sono, I am notKotoveven though I’m a guy.I am legallyKotova.” He hikes his brows in irritation. “Any other questions?”

“Yeah. Where do you plan to go with Tom after this?”

RJ glances down at Tom, who’s finishing off the last of his vodka. “If his two oldest brothers aren’t home, his place. If they are, then wherever he wants.”

“Your place?”

“No.”

“You have bed bugs?” I ask sharply. “Jars of toenails on your shelves?”

“I live where I work,” he admits, his voice hotter. “I don’t mix business and pleasure, so to speak.”

“Well, now I’m really confused because I thought for sure you were a cam boy.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not judging.”

“Yeah, right.” RJ huffs out a breath, then glances to Tom at the same time as me.

Tom is weirdly quiet, but his face flushes beet red as he witnesses this exchange between RJ and me.

RJ tucks him even closer to his side. I can’t tell if he’s just a touchy-feely guy, or if he’s trying to be territorial around me. Whatever the case, it seems like Tom is leaning against him only to avoid falling over. So that’s a plus…I guess.

“How much have you had to drink?” RJ asks him, to which Tom never responds. Not as he catches his balance and extends his arms like he’s walking a plank.

I think I’d be smiling if I weren’t so on edge.

RJ looks around for something. He sees my water and gestures for it. “Please.” He says it like he thinks I’m going todeny hydrating Tom when it’s exactly what I’ve been fucking doing.

I hand it over. Unable to speak with the knot in my throat.

“Here, Tom.” He pries the finished drink out of his grip, then gives him the water instead. He sniffs the cup. “Vodka?” he asks me.

“Correct.”

A deep, grumbled noise of concern comes out of RJ. The same sentiment is apparent in his gaze as he sweeps Tom. He makes small, comforting circles against Tom’s back.