Free Blush (Rockstar #2) by Anne Mercier Page B

brunette's faces are pale and drawn tight.
    Meggie snickers and mutters, “Cum bucket.“
    Harsh and gross but this chick is playing hardball.
    Thunderstruck from AC/DC starts playing and it pumps me up.
    “So yeah, honey. You can think you matter. You don't. You were a fuck, a means to get off. That hurt look I see on your face? I feel no sympathy for you because you chose this. You. Chose. This.“ I accentuate each word with a poke to her chest. “So I, as Mrs. Russo-Kingston, didn't feel the need to dirty her hands on you. You're no threat to me. None of you are, which is why I was over there with the classy fans having a good time. If my husband can't think to just tell you to fuck off, then that's on him. But dragging my name into it, you made a huge mistake there. I'll do what he obviously doesn't feel comfortable doing because he doesn't want to lose paying fans. Hell, I'll give him the two hundred bucks for the tickets later. Now,“ I say stepping even closer. “You and you,“ I point to Blondie and her friend, “and anyone else who thinks they have a shot at Jesse, fuck the fuck off and get the fuck out of here before my Italian starts boiling. Right now it's only at a moderate simmer. ‘Kay, thanks, bye.“ I turn to stand next to my mom again when I get shoved from behind.
    Kung Fu Fighting from Carl Douglas starts to play.
    “Are you fucking kidding me?“ I ask with a laugh. “That's the best you've got? Now I know you are truly pathetic.“
    A new addition to the foray, a black-haired chick, who thinks it's smart to shove me curls her fingers into a fist and I smirk. That's when Eye of the Tiger by Survivor starts. I love Xander so much right now. When the fist comes flying at my face, I merely dodge and weave. I'm fucking Italian. My cousins are in the fucking mob. I had to learn to defend myself at a very young age and this chick is just slow as hell. I reach up and grab her fist and her eyes widen, her mouth forms a perfect “O“, and a collective gasp goes around the room.
    I step up to her, my hand squeezing her fist painfully, as she tries to shake me off.
    “You just bit off more than you can chew, honey,“ comes from Kennedy.
    “You were seriously going to hit me?“ I ask incredulously. I look around the room. “She was going to hit me?“ They all nod. “Do you realize I could have you thrown in jail right now? I could press charges and they would stick. You'd be sitting in there all weekend because there's no court hearings until Monday morning and if your public defender can make the time to come see you, you might get out before suppertime. Then there's the fact that I could have turned around and punched you right in the fucking face, like I wanted to do, and break your fake-ass nose. But I didn't. Do you know why?“ She shakes her head. Another One Bites the Dust by Queen starts playing.
    “A few reasons, really. First, I don't want blood on my clothes. Spenser gets pissy when I ruin new outfits. Second, I'm keeping these heels and I don't want blood on them either. Third, I don't want to hurt my hand. With the way things are going, I'd break it and it'd really suck being on stage with a cast.“
    I hear the guys murmur their agreement and bite back a snicker.
    “And last, but certainly not least, I feel sorry for you. All of you.“ They all flinch. “You have to stoop to this to try to get a rockstar and for what? Because he's famous? Because he's good looking? Because he's rich? Whatever your reason, it's sad and pathetic. You shouldn't be here doing this. You should be out looking for the real thing whether the guy has money or not,“ I growl and throw her hand down. “Now move the fuck on and get the hell out of here.“
    “Whatever,“ the black-haired chick says and starts to swing for me again. Cryin' Like a Bitch by Godsmack cues up. I sigh, tilt my head as if to say seriously?, and let my fist fly right into the bridge of her nose. I hear it crunch, blood