I ignore them all, shoving through the crowd, and for a minute I regret not bringing security with me. What the hell was I thinking?

My security detail is back home in Hollywood, but Sin had offered me his... and I'd turned him down. I just wanted to get in and out of here today with as little fuss as possible. It's why I told Sin and Duncan not to come. It's bad enough if one of us goes somewhere. But if we go together, the circus around us is ridiculous.

I duck into the crowded sidewalk and lose myself in the people, jogging down the street until I can no longer hear the snaps of the cameras and the chattering reporters. It takes a while, but finally I find myself alone in the quiet solitude of a Chicago alleyway.

I slump against the grimy wall, staring around at the trash, the graffiti, the grayness of the city. Even in the midst of spring, downtown Chicago seems dismal and gray. It might be home, but quite honestly, I would rather be anywhere but here.

I take a deep breath of city smells and then release it.

I'm here now. I'll be here for the next three months. I can't control that so there's only one thing to do.

Suck it up.

As I lay sprawled in a chair in Sin's theater room, I make a gun out of my fingers and point it at my head as my mother lectures into my ear. It had taken exactly two hours for her to see the courthouse footage online. Why didn't you wear a tie? Why must you wear those horrible hoodies?

From across the room, Sin laughs as he flips through channels on the behemoth TV hanging in front of us. He's dressed only in a pair of tattered jeans that look like he slept in them. Once again, he's not wearing a shirt.

"Dominic James Kinkaide." My mother sighs into my ear. "I can't believe you have a criminal record. I honestly can't. Your father is going to be so upset."

"Oh, Dad is going to be upset?" I ask, my lip twitching. "Not you at all, right? It's all Dad?"

It's a joke in our family. My mother always blames everything on my father. Things worry him sick, he loses sleep over us, etc. It's all him, not her. It's funny, because he's the most laid-back person I know. Dad has been a producer in the music industry since before I was born. He's got nerves of steel. To blame all the worry on him is asinine, but none of us kids ever call her on it.

Mom sighs. "What are you going to do? You can't stay with Sin. The two of you will just get into even more trouble. You'd better come home. I'll get your room ready for you here."

I think of my childhood home, Castle Kinkaide, a large replica of a Scottish castle perched in the middle of ten acres right outside of Chicago. It's quirky and original, just like my family. And while I love my childhood home and my family, having my mom in my business or listening to Fiona lecture me about Cris for the next ninety days isn't gonna happen.

"Thanks for the offer, Mom. But I'm good here. I might even rent my own condo if Sin doesn't start wearing clothes. We'll see. But everything will be fine. Don't worry. And tell Dad not to worry."

Sin snorts. "Is Dad worried sick?" He cracks up and my mom sighs.

"Sinclair Alec Kinkaide," she snaps, even though my brother can't hear her. "That's enough out of you."

I waggle my eyebrows at Sin, before I return my attention to mom.

"I love you, Mom. I'll come out and see you soon."

I hang up and sink glumly into the leather cushions of the chair.

"Cheer up," Sin chirps. "I'll put one of your movies on to make you feel better."

I roll my eyes because he knows I hate to watch my own movies. "You're way too happy about my current set of circumstances."

He grins. "I'm just happy to not be the only Kinkaide with a record. Thanks for that. Mom can split her lectures between the two of us now."

"Glad to be of help," I mutter. "And at least I kept my crime spree on US soil. I'm pretty sure you're banned from the Netherlands."

Sin rolls his eyes, but then his expression suddenly changes.

"Did you talk to Fiona?" he asks, somewhat hesitantly. "Or just Mom?"

I clench my jaw. "No, I didn't fucking talk to Fiona. It's bullshit that she's dating Cris. And I can't believe you didn't tell me about it. You let me fucking find out on my own."

Sin shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Dom. I didn't realize that they were coming to the party or I would've told you. They didn't know you were in town. But dude, Cris has changed. I don't know what he did to piss you off so fucking much, but the guy's changed a lot since you graduated high school. You should at least talk to him. Six years is a long time, bro. A lot can happen."

"Yeah?" I arch an eyebrow. "People don't change. Not really. They can pretend, they can move on, they can do lots of shit, but to actually reach down into their soul and change the person they are? That's impossible. And Cris has a black fucking soul. Fiona shouldn't be with him."

I tap my phone against my leg in agitation, staring at Sin. He stares back.

"I don't know what to tell you, dude. You can't control her, she's as stubborn as you are. But that trait comes in handy now that she's working for the band. She'll be the best manager we ever had."

I scowl. "Which doesn't do me one bit of good. Unless, as her boss, you can send her to LA or something while I'm here?"

Sin shakes his head with a grin. "Sorry, dude. I need her here. She's working with Tally to put together our next tour. Besides, with her here and you here, maybe you can hash all of this out once and for all. Plus, as an added bonus, you'll get to hear all of the details from Duncan's love life. Trust me, it's not boring."

"Jesus." I roll my eyes. "This is why I don't come back all that often. It's always like a fucking soap opera in this family."

Sin shakes his head, turning his head back to the television.

"Welcome home, bro."

Chapter Six.

Dominic

I stick my hand out from under the covers and flip off the sun. Actually, I'm flipping off the entire day. Nothing good ever comes from a Monday.

With a groan, I roll over and stare bleary-eyed at the clock. Eight A.M. I open my mouth to yawn, only to find my dry tongue stuck to the top of my even drier mouth.

Jesus. Last night is a blur of too much whiskey, padded handcuffs, and Kira's sex-starved moans.

Come on, Dominic. Just fuck me. You know you want to.

She had pleaded, like always. But like always, my answer was the same. Although that didn't stop us from doing several other things that were probably illegal in twenty states. My ass still stings from the belt Kira used, and I briefly wonder if it left marks before I decide that I don't give a shit.

The sheets still smell like Kira's perfume, even though she left hours ago, and I feel the sudden urge to wash it off of me. Something about the light of day and all that. What happens in the dark should stay in the dark.

If two consenting adults do deviant things to each other in the dark, did the deviant things actually happen? There's a question for the ages.

Rolling out of bed, I take a quick shower and head down to Sin's kitchen to scrounge up some caffeine. Not remembering the last time I took the time to eat, I grab a cup of coffee and a slice of cold pizza from the fridge and head out to a lounger by the pool.

I wolf the pizza down in four bites, lick my fingers, then close my eyes. The light is just too damned bright. And four hours of sleep just isn't enough.

Before long though, giggling invades my solitude and I can feel eyes on my skin. Why the hell is someone always around this place? It's impossible to ever be alone. Reluctantly, I open my eyes to see who's watching me.

Across the pool, in one of the two large cabanas, two girls are doing a not very good job of pretending not to stare at me.

They're scantily dressed in tiny shorts and halter tops, probably eighteen or nineteen, and they have the smeared makeup of women who have been awake all night. Awake and used all night. I can see the sex-glazed looks in their eyes from here.

Sin, the guy who put that look in their eyes, is nowhere to be found, so it's hard to tell what they're up to now. Either way, they're not my guests and not my problem. I don't close my eyes fast enough though, and accidentally make eye contact with one of them.

Fuck. They know I'm awake.

They make a beeline for my side, sitting on the lounger beside me, still giggling with their smeared makeup and last night's clothes. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"You're Dominic Kinkaide, right?" the tall brunette asks, purposely sitting in a way that pushes her tits together.

I nod. "Usually."

They giggle again while the little blonde edges forward. "Sin told us that you were staying here for a while," she says proudly, excited to be "in the know."

I do roll my eyes now. I can't help it. Jesus. These girls are always the fucking same. It's mind-boggling. They're perfectly willing to hang around and be used, simply so they can say that they were with Sin Kinkaide. Or me. Or even Duncan, and he's just a fucking drummer.

"He told you that, did he?" I ask. "And where is my brother?"

Brunette gestures toward the house. "He's still in bed. We're supposed to be finding him coffee. He has practice this morning."

I cock an eyebrow. "You mean 'rehearsal'?"

She blushes prettily. "Yeah."

I close my eyes again. "Well, the coffee isn't usually by the pool. It's in the kitchen. If you head that way, someone can help you."

More giggles, then silence, although I can still feel their presence. I hear a whisper, then a hand sliding on my arm.

"Hey, if you haven't had breakfast yet, why don't you join us?"

I open my eyes at Blondie's suggestive tone, to find her face sultry and expectant. It's blatantly clear that she's not talking about food.

Oddly enough, the face that I found to be tired and smeared a moment ago suddenly seems almost tempting, or at least doable. My sexual proclivities are rearing their ugly heads. Two girls willing to do anything to please me? The opportunities are endless.

"What do you have in mind?" I ask, my interest piqued.

The brunette pipes up. "We could be your breakfast. If you want," she adds, almost shyly.

Her friend nods in agreement. "I hope you have a big appetite."

I smile wolfishly, definitely interested now.

"Well, have you ever heard the phrase 'my eyes are bigger than my stomach'?"

One girl smiles and the other nods. I nod back and lean forward, speaking quietly as if sharing a secret.

"I like to watch," I tell them.

Brunette immediately stands up, gently pushing my shoulders backward until I'm reclining again.

"Then watch this," she tells me confidently. She grabs Blondie and pulls her onto the lounger next to me. "I'm Erika," she announces, as she pushes Blondie onto her back. "And this is Meghan."

"It doesn't matter," I mumble.

But they don't hear me. Brunette is sliding Blondie's shorts off, pulling them down over her hips and then licking each place that her fingers touched. As she moves to the girl's tits, taking off her shirt and then pulling one of those lush little nipples into her mouth, my dick gets hard and I pull it out of my pants.

There is something wrong with me.

I get off on watching other people's pleasure. Or I get off when pain is involved. Or I get off when something is far, far over the line of normal. I don't get off by my own participation. That's fucked up in a million different ways, but I'm not going to analyze it now.

For now, I'm going to watch the girls' tight little bodies sliding together, because that does it for me.

Watching their tongues tangle, their tits press together... that does it for me, too.

And when Brunette's mouth burrows between Blondie's legs and then Blondie comes into Brunette's mouth... I'm a goner. I stroke myself, not caring that any number of the staff inside the house could glance out and see me getting off on the lounge chair.

Before long, Brunette shoves my hand away, replacing it with her mouth. Blondie kneels over my balls, licking them like an ice cream cone.

"Pull on my balls," I instruct Blondie. She grins devilishly and does as I ask. "Harder," I say firmly. "Harder."

Pain shoots through me as she complies, and she pulls ever harder on my ball sack. I like the pain. It blocks out reality.

I smile and take a sip of coffee, as they bob and dip and pull and suck in front of me.

Turns out, this Monday isn't so bad after all.

Jacey

I glance at the clock in the dingy, hot office. Ten thirty-seven A.M. We were supposed to be here at Joe's Gladiators thirty-seven minutes ago.

I actually showed up early, not wanting to get on Joe's bad side right off the bat. The bailiff had said that any little thing could give Joe grounds to not sign my card. Dominic Kinkaide, however, apparently doesn't worry about such things. He's late.