Page 233 of Silver Sweet

“All of you—out!” I wave Evening Glory toward the exit.

Clint stifles one laugh. “Aw, come on, Tom?—”

“Dude, I’m not joking! GET OFF MY FUCKING BUS!” I shout at the top of my lungs, and if my full-time bodyguard weren’t back in New York sick with the flu, I’d have top-notch security escort them out. Instead, my temp bodyguard has been taking hour-long shits while glued to Tinder. He’s unreliable and MIA and currently not on this bus.

Clint and Asher burst into belly-aching laughter that sets my blood to extreme boil.

“Tom,” Gunther says, trying to calm me with a hand to my shoulder.

I jerk back. “Don’t touch me,Gunth.I amthis close”—I squeeze my fingers together—“to kicking you all off this tour. If you don’t get off this bus right fucking now, this is the end of the road for you.”

Roy coughs on an unassured laugh. “Only Riot can kick us off, man. The label set up this tour, not you.”

“You don’t think I can call Riot first thing tomorrow morning?” I glare. “I will give them an ultimatum that involves sacking you, and they will do it. And I’d be doing them a favor. Your work ethic isabysmal.I’ve seen toddlers put in more effort than all of you combined.”

I finally puncture their happy-go-lucky, drug-infused mood. No one is laughing. Roy is meeting my glare with one of his own as he says, “Damn. And St. Pierre said you weren’t some silver-spoon, pretentious little prick.”

Every time they bring up Phoenix, my stomach twists in a vicious knot. “Well, he was wrong. It’s exactly what I am, and this silver-spoon, pretentious little prick will eat you for breakfast tomorrow if you don’t get off my motherfucking bus.”

The only movement comes from Gunther. He sets aside his Styrofoam container.

“You can take that with you,” I say, more tensely. Acutely aware that I’m outnumbered and outsized. I’m taller than two of them, but they probably have fifty pounds on me.

Gunther moves forward without his blue-cheese monstrosity.

He’s either going to punch me or purposefully leave his trash behind, and I could demand he remove every crumb he brought in here—but I don’t. I’m not opening another can of worms. I’m so over this crappy night, and I just want a shower, a bed, and Phoenix.

I press my lower back against the kitchenette counter and wave my hands toward the exit. Gunther and his stringy, chest-length hair pass me. His pissed-off expression is tinged with disappointment. I don’t care if he’s upset that I’m not a good time anymore.

The last thing I want to be is a jack-in-the-box he can crank.

Thankfully, Gunther and Roy follow my directive and make their way to the exit near the driver’s seat. Unfortunately, Clint and Asher aren’t as smart. They crowd on either side of me, and my pulse thunders in my ears when Clint messes with my hair and snickers.

I shove his chest. “Dude.I’m not playing. I’ll have you kicked off—” Fuck. Asher wraps his meaty bicep around my throat from behind me.

I claw at his arm and elbow his abs. “Get off,” I rasp, losing air.

“Let him go, Ash,” Gunther says with such a relaxed tone at the front of the bus, you’d think they were playing blackjack with me. And not, I don’t know, putting me in a fucking chokehold!

“I bet he’s never been in a fight,” Clint laughs, advancing on me. I kick his ribs hard, but he might be the titanium man. He doesn’t flinch. Fuck whatever drug he’s on.

He captures my legs. Everything is happening at rapid speed. I can’t think. Asher steps onto the couch, bringing me up with him while Clint still has my feet.

He’s ripping off my Vans and socks.

I’m thrashing, clawing, suffocating. No oxygen is entering my lungs now. I can’t even gasp. I feel my face reddening. I tap his arm, so he understands I’m seconds from passing out. This isn’t funny. This isn’t fun.You’ve scared me, okay. Let me fucking go.

Black dots dance in my vision.

“Phoenix!!” I hear Hannahscreaming for my boyfriend, and what feels like a millisecond later, he’s on the bus in a violent rush.

“TOM!” he yells out, barreling toward me. “The fuck—GET OFF HIM!!” His voice is as murderous as his face.

Asher releases the chokehold immediately, and Clint lets go of my ankles. I come crashing down on the couch’s edge. Right in the kidney. I’m coughing too much to care about the stabbing pain.

“We’re just playing—” Asher is cut off with a wounded grunt.

I heave for breath, peering up from the floor to see feet knocking together all the way to the front of the bus. The noise drops several octaves as the fight travels outside. Urgency crashes into me. I need to be with Phoenix—to aid him in what could be a four-on-one brawl.