Incendiary by Kathryn Kelly

kept Georgie strung out. He licked her pussy and stuffed his dick in her mouth. Plain and simple, his actions toward her is murder worthy.
    Now, he wants to go on national television, capitalize on Georgie’s bad judgment and fuck her over even more?
    She refuses to recognize what a motherfucker Crowell is. I’ll bet, despite everything, she still, to this fucking day , considers him her friend.
    On the other hand, he wants to humiliate her. He also expects to live after he’s through.
    Attempting to control myself, I jerk away from Maitland and Quint. I’m not what Rand Mason accuses me of being. I’m not a fucking murderer. A fighter? You bet your fucking ass. During brawls, the skulls of motherfuckers are accidentally bashed in all the time. Every now and then, knives appear and somehow end up in throats. These facts need explaining to my father so Crowell can utilize his fifteen minutes of fame with the full knowledge of imminent fucking death.
    “Listen to me.” My voice is calm and my eyes flicker between my bandmates to Dad’s attorneys. I scowl at them. “If you don’t want a real murder charge pinned on me, call Crowell and tell him to fucking hide. If he goes through with this bullshit, he’s a fucking dead man.”
    Dad pales, as if he has a fucking conscience. As if he loves me and wants to save me from the sin of killing.
    “Do you understand me, Dad? He’s a dead man if he does this to her.”
    Dad recognizes I’ve reached my limit on what he can do to or say about Georgie. I’m at the point where I don’t give a fuck about much. I’ve cracked and I need a hit to glue the remnants together once more. I intend to get one, as soon as I break away from this group.
    “Okay, son. Okay.” Dad raises his hand. “Call Mr. Daniels, Jaeger. Do what you have to, so Sloane’s directions can be followed.”
    Outrage drops onto Kiln’s face. “Are you fucking kidding me? Prince Sloane doesn’t want his little girlfriend’s past exposed, so Prince Sloane gets it?”
    I bare my teeth. “And the two peasants have to follow what the fuck I want, or else.”
    “You finally stuck the wrong cunt,” Kiln snarls. “Comeuppance, little brother. The way you fucked over me with Dietrech is haunting you in the worst way.”
    Dad’s face reddens. “Kiln!”
    Jaeger steps between us and searches our faces. “Shut the fuck up, Kiln. We have to put up a united front if we hope to recover our losses. Without Sloane, Dad will be fine. He has money. We don’t. Our fucking asses will end up broke. We need to fix this, to protect our lifestyle.”
    All the fuck I am to these assholes is money. Nothing new, but I’m sick of this bullshit. I wanted to be a rock superstar and I’ve succeeded. It was good while it lasted, but what the fuck did it mean? Not a fucking thing in the end.
    Inside, where it counts, I’m broken. I don’t fucking care. Dad can pin Steffie’s murder on me or not, but I’m done.
    “I quit,” I announce. “I’m resigning from the band. I’m done. Do what the fuck you will, Dad. I’m done,” I repeat, unable to see any other face in my head but Georgie’s, unable to feel anything but grief.
    The day my father changed my entire world, I lost myself in that water and the essence of me died.
    For a moment, I had Georgie and found my soul again.
    If Steffie had just drowned, her death would’ve been hard. I would’ve grieved just as deeply and as profoundly as I have. Nothing would’ve been the same without her. Nothing has been the same without her.
    Her accidental drowning would’ve been horrendous. Her death wasn’t an awful calamity, however. Not only did I lose my sister in a horrible way, I lost my hero, too.
    I’ve lived with this and I’ve made it work. No more.
    Once I lost Georgie, nothing else mattered.
     

     
    “Mr. Sloane,” Amika murmurs, as I walk out of the bathroom, two hours later, dressed in only a towel.
    The last member of the staff my mother hired before