I balled my hands into fists; I felt like driving them through a wall. “Yes, we do. This is exactly the type of crappy payback thing he would do. He snubbed us, Anna. He snubbed me.” Something else besides hatred started bubbling up inside me. It was thorny and painful, and I didn’t want to touch it or be feeling it; I wanted to drink it away.

Anna’s eyes started watering, which only made the sensation in my gut all the more uncomfortable. “I need alcohol,” I muttered, pushing past her.

She grabbed my elbow. “Wait, let’s talk about this. We’ve never really talked about…how you feel about leaving the band. So…how do you feel?” She seemed just as uncomfortable saying it as I did hearing it.

Jerking my elbow away, I raised my chin and pushed away the turmoil trying to boil to life. I am Griffin Hancock…nothing bothers me. Nothing even touches me. “I’m fine. Leaving those fuckers was the best decision I ever made, and I haven’t looked back once since making it.”

Anna pursed her lips. “Griffin…I know that’s not true. I know it bothers you that—”

Raising my hands, I cut her off. “The only thing that bothers me is that the alcohol is out there and I’m still in here. But that’s something I can easily fix.” I turned and left without another word.

The drive to Inglewood took a while, and I was silent the entire ride. I’d rented us a limo so we could show up in style, but I wasn’t enjoying it. I wasn’t enjoying much of anything, except the minibar.

“You might want to slow down, babe. Throwing up on the red carpet may not be the type of exposure Harold had in mind.”

Anna looked amazing with her hair curled and pinned, her makeup emphasizing her plump lips and smoldering eyes. If I were in a better mood, I’d rip off all her clothes and take her right here in the backseat. She’d be pissed that her hair and makeup were ruined, but she’d let me do it, and she’d rock the just-fucked look all the way down the carpet. But my mood wasn’t up, so my dick wasn’t either. Fuck my life.

Ignoring her statement, I tipped back my Hennessy. My head was nice and fuzzy, but I’d rather be blacked out. Anna sighed and recrossed her legs. She didn’t ask me to stop again, and I didn’t until we arrived at the venue and the car door opened. “Showtime,” I slurred.

The driver helped Anna out, then me. I almost toppled over when I stood all the way up. I’d massively overdone it, but I didn’t give a shit. I slung an arm over Anna’s shoulders and stumbled my way up the carpet. Anna had to help me walk straight, and she struggled with my weight some, but I was smiling and waving, just like Harold wanted.

Some classy chick in a fancy dress approached me with a microphone. “Well, hello,” she started to say. I didn’t let her finish though. Ripping the microphone out of her hand, I turned to the cameraman standing behind her. “Griffin Hancock here! What the fuck up, world!”

The woman tried to get the mic back, sputtering, “You can’t say that on TV!”

Turning so she couldn’t take the microphone away from me, I pointed at the camera. “Keep a lookout for my new show, Acing It. It’s going to blow your fucking mind!”

She finally got a hand on the microphone and yanked it away from me. “Prick!” she screeched while I laughed. Anna pulled me away with a long sigh.

Once we finally got to the end of the carpet, Anna was huffing and puffing like she’d just run a marathon. I was totally fine, buzzing in all the right places. Looks like I was in the mood after all. As we walked through the doors, I told Anna, “Let’s go backstage somewhere and fuck. Or on the stage. You know I’ve always wanted to do it on a stage.”

Anna elbowed me in the ribs. “I don’t think you’re in any shape to do anything but pass out. Let’s just go find our seats.”

“Fine,” I muttered, “but I have to pee first.”

By the time we found a bathroom, mingled, and schmoozed with people, the show was about to start. Anna herded me to our row, then stopped short when we got there. “Fuck,” she said under her breath.

Getting excited, I started unbuttoning my shirt. “Yeah? You want to do it right here? In front of the crowd? Works for me!”

She slapped her hand over mine, stopping me. “Griff…” She tilted her head toward the only two empty seats in the row. I didn’t see why she looked worried, until I noticed who was occupying the full seats. All the D-Bags and their bitches.

“Fuck, no.” I looked around the auditorium for that slimy producer who’d set this up. “Where the fuck is Harold? I’m gonna fucking kill him! There’s no way I’m fucking sitting here! No fucking way!”

My screaming got the attention of everyone in our area, including my ex-bandmates. Kellan looked surprised to see me, Evan looked conflicted. Matt just looked pissed. Squeezing Rachel’s hand tighter, he narrowed his eyes at me. “What are you doing here? You’re not in the band anymore, remember?”

I glanced at his hand holding Rachel’s, and sure enough, there was a shiny gold band around it. Fucker really did get married without me. “It’s true, isn’t it? You really did tie the knot? Thanks for the invite, asswipe.”

Matt’s face turned a deep red. “It was close friends and family only. You’re neither anymore.”

That got under my skin, and I took a step forward. “You fucking piece of shit!”