Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1) Read Free Page B

looking at me like that from time to time when we
were performing, too. Like he was surprised that I remembered the words to so
many of his songs.
    But I wasn’t surprised. I helped him write a lot of those songs.
Not the words exactly, but the feelings. Sometimes we’d be lying in the bed on
the floor of his studio apartment, and he’d reach over and scribble some lyrics
down. Then he’d roll back towards me and tickle my neck with his stubble and
his warm whiskey breath.
    There were days when we didn’t even get out of bed.
    And I guess all those feelings must have come back to him, too.
Because after the show, we poured enough whiskey down our throats to kill
Courtney Love and went back to his hotel room.
    Mick peeled off my leather pants, and I remembered what it was
like to be with him as quickly as he grew in my hands.
    Then we outdid ourselves.
    And it was effortless.
     

Chapter
5: Kate
     
     
    Danielle passed me the rest of the pint of vodka and I drained
it, trying not to gag as the fumes burnt my eyes.
    “You alright?”
    “I am now,” I said, tucking the empty bottle in my purse.
    I didn’t want anything incriminating in my car if the cops
showed up and we had to run for it. Fortunately, Danielle’s house was only
about two miles away. Which is nothing when you’re shitfaced.
    Of course, there was no way we could outrun the boys, but we could
always count on a few bimbos wearing stupid shoes. They were easy pickings for
the out of shape police that patrolled our suburban streets.
    As we approached Trey Ford’s house, we only saw one kid puking
in a neighbor’s bush, but it was still early. Danielle and I only planned to
stay until the second keg ran out. That way we could leave before things got
too messy.
    Because Trey’s party throwing days were numbered. They had to
be. It had been a good run, but these things never lasted. Someone would get
stupid or cocky and ruin it for everyone else just as soon as we started to
take the spot for granted.
    Like we used to party at Ashley G’s, but then someone filled her
exotic fish tank with beer and killed everything in it.
    Then we spent countless weekends drinking at Frank Kenny’s
house. Until someone switched the sleeves on every single record in his Dad’s
prized collection, breaking a few in the process. To this day no one knows who
did it.
    And most recently it was Ben Nevin whose luck ran out when his
Dad realized their whole yard stank of stale beer. Eventually, he discovered
the source: a landfill’s worth of cigarette butts and empties stashed under his
porch. Rumor has it they actually made good money turning the cans in at the
recycling center.
    Of course, everyone’s already made bets about how Trey’s demise
will go down. I think it’ll be some sort of massacre involving his Mom’s fancy
orchids. Danielle’s got her money on the dog getting so drunk that he has the
shits for days (though little Sparky’s held his own so far). And Annie thinks it
will all come down to whatever’s in the mystery closet, and she has point.
    I mean, whatever’s in there must be good because Trey always
locks it before parties.
    I think it’s just a closet full of munchies cause his Dad works
for a snack company. However, there is a rumor that it’s where his parents hide
the dead bodies of all the people they’ve killed. As if that’s the only
reasonable explanation for why they go out so late at night together all the
time. Because they’re serial killers.
    Then again, Trey probably started that rumor to keep people the
fuck out of the closet. 
    When Danielle and I finally walked in the front door, the music
got about ten times louder. We headed for the keg first, making our way through
the house to the back porch. By the time we got there, I realized I was probably
two shots drunker than I intended to be on arrival.
    Of course, of all the people on Earth who could be pumping the
keg, it had to be Ian. I hadn’t exchanged words with him since