Synister: The Push Series - Book 1 Read Free Page B

“It’s Royce. Brooklyn and I were just headed to Cabo, and she refused to board the jet until she saw your show tonight. It was...interesting.”
    Placing my drumsticks together in my left hand, I wiped my sweaty hand on my jeans and proceeded to partake in shaking the hand of Royce Stanton aka Brooklyn’s husband of the last four months. Longest months of my life, but she seemed happy, so I bit back my distaste for the smug bastard, slapped a silly smile on my face, and continued with the charade.
    “Royce, fucking great to see ya. You guys coming to the meet-and-greet?”


    “Yeah, definitely. I would never—”
    “Babe, are you forgetting the jet is on standby?” Royce cut off Brooklyn. “So sorry, Syn. Maybe next time.”
    Brooklyn let out a huff, and I watched her body deflate and her shoulders slump forward. What a fucking prick. As she walked toward me, I encased her in a huge hug and whispered to her, “No worries, baby girl. You need to get going and have fun on the beach. Don’t worry about me. We’re solid. You know you’re my girl.” She pulled back and shot me a half-assed grin. Royce took her hand in his, and they were gone. As the images of Brooklyn and Royce disappeared into the black, a familiar mug appeared. Scottie.
    “What’s up, dick? You pulling out of the meet-and-greet? They are about to let people in, dude. And where the fuck is Brooklyn going?” Scottie Chevelle, my baby brother and lead singer of Push, was standing in front of me looking every bit the rock star. Goddamn, I was so proud of him.
    “Brooklyn had to go. She and Royce needed to catch a plane to somewhere fancy. God, man, that guy is such a... I don’t know. He is just a total...” I couldn’t even form a word that was strong enough to express how I felt about Royce.
    “Dude, he is definitely not like us, but she seems happy, Syn, so you need to focus on that, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    “Now, Synister Smith, there is an entire room of hot-as-hell girls wearing barely anything who are more than willing to make you forget about everything. Let’s say we get this after-party started.”
    I reached forward and slap him on the shoulder. “Fucking right. Let’s rock this shit.”
    The meet-and-greet/after-party/ending-up-at-some-bar-till-two-a.m. was definitely insane. About halfway through the I-have-no-idea-what-round-of-beers, I noticed this one chick kept staring at me. She couldn't have been taller than five-two, but the killer fuck-me pumps she was wearing made her legs look like they went on for days. The fishnets and schoolgirl skirt and black tank top only added to the effect the outfit was having on me.
    Getting up from the barstool I had been occupying, I made my way to find Tony. Tony, or Big T, was my bodyguard. The guy was a fucking brick statue. He was six foot five of ink and iron. He was the only person I ever met to give Hendrix a run for his money in the gym. Tony was Mr. Clean meets the Terminator. Big T looked every bit the hard ass bodyguard I needed him to be, but the dude was a softy when it came to the guys and me. He was the closest thing to a father I ever had. Big T had been with Push since our shit hole club days, and I feared the day he was not watching my back. Scanning the room, I noticed him standing by the door, most likely having just come back inside from a smoke break. Perfect.
    “Big T, I need a fav, dude.”
    “Oh, shit. This can only mean one thing. Where is she, and what does she look like?”
    “Big T, Really? Come on. What if I was all innocent like I need a candy bar and a hug? What the fuck ever, man. I see how it is.” Putting up my dukes, I started jumping around in front of Big T like I was in the ring with Ali.
    “Synister, you know I could knock your smug ass out without even trying, right?”
    “True. All right, here’s the deal. See that blonde over there with the tight as hell body, fishnets, and FMPs that are just dying to be wrapped around this luscious