Rock Kiss 03 Rock Redemption(98)

“Go to hell.” Noah threw the damn coffee against a wall. It made a satisfying crash of sound, the coffee dripping like blood down the white stucco.

Fox didn’t look at the new damage. “Kit called me.”

Skin going tight all over his body, Noah stared at the coffee-stained wall. “Why?”

“She thought you might do something stupid.” Fox took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t think she was thinking about garden destruction.”

Noah fisted his hands. He wasn’t going to talk about Kit to anyone.

“What did you do?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Fair enough.” Fox drank more of his coffee. “Do I need to punch you in the face?”

Glancing at the other man, Noah shrugged. “It’s done. Over.”

Fox’s eyes looked black in the light as he held Noah’s gaze. “Bullshit.”

“Fuck you.”

“Now that we’re past that, we’re going to talk.”

Snorting, Noah swiveled on his heel and went to walk inside. Fox blocked him. Noah shoved at his shoulder, Fox shoved back, and then they were throwing punches, Fox’s mug falling unheeded to the rucked up dirt and dying plants. If it had been Abe, Noah would’ve been in trouble—the keyboard player was big enough that his size was a distinct advantage in a fight.

Fox and Noah, however, were evenly matched. He landed a punch for every one of Fox’s. His fist smashed into Fox’s cheek, the other man’s slammed into his jaw, making his teeth crash down on the side of his tongue and the hot taste of blood fill his mouth. He retaliated with a punch to Fox’s ribs that made the lead singer double over.

Reacting to the hit, Fox headbutted him in the gut, taking him to the dirt.

And Noah stopped thinking.




Wiping the blood off his face with a towel some time later, Noah looked in the mirror. “You fucked up my face, man.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Fox snarled from the kitchen area.

When Noah walked in, the other man threw him a bag of frozen peas that had probably been around since the Ice Age. Noah didn’t even know who had put it in his freezer. Fox was holding another bag of some frozen thing against his eye.

Noah chose to use the peas against his jaw. Unlike Fox, he didn’t have a black eye. He had a jaw that felt as if it had come to within a hairsbreadth of being broken, a cut above his left eye, and another one on his cheek. His mouth wasn’t in the best condition either.

“You look like shit,” he said to Fox.

“Thanks, princess. You look great.” His hair damp from the water he’d thrown on his face at the sink, the lead singer pointed at Noah. “You’re calling Thea.”

“Not happening. Let the tabloids make up some bullshit story about how the band is splitting up.” The fact they’d been in a fight would be pretty damn obvious as soon as the two of them were caught on camera. “She’s probably asleep anyway.”

“Thea doesn’t sleep, and you’re a chickenshit.”

Noah didn’t deny it—Thea was goddamn scary when she got mad. “I don’t see you calling her.”

“Bastard.” Stabbing in their publicist’s name on his phone, Fox put it on speaker. “Noah and I punched each other,” he said when she answered. “Our faces look like crap.”

“Of course you did, and of course they do,” she muttered. “It’s not like I enjoy having a peaceful life.” A small pause and rustling noises followed by a masculine murmur in the background.

“David says he’s going to punch you both in the morning.” Thea actually sounded like she was smiling. “I’ll make a preemptive strike, say you fought after a few too many drinks, then kissed and made up. Long as they have a reason and you don’t give them a juicier option, we can ride it out.”

She made a small hmming sound. “It’s not like they can sell the line that you were fighting over Kit—not when Fox is so openly crazy for Molly.” Thea’s voice softened on the last part. “And rock stars are expected to behave badly once in a while, so this is actually good for your image. Leave it to me.”

After hanging up, Fox went straight back to the conversation that had led to the fight. “You screwed up. Why?”

“It’s what I do.” Noah put down the bag of frozen peas, felt his jaw. In one piece at least.

“How long have we been friends?” Fox’s tone was dead serious. “Over twenty years. You don’t get to bullshit your way through this.”

“What, you want to have a heart-to-heart? Shall we paint our nails together while we’re at it?”