Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Throughout the week, the line of questioning veers off course little by little with each new media outlet.
Especially the silly interview on Madison Ave where we pretend to run into a twenty-year-old girl. Susie Mac has one million followers watching her “candid” street interviews, and Tom is apparently a big fan.
I know nothing about her, but he warns me she always makes her guests eat a spicy candy at the end.
“Like a gimmick?” I asked him.
“Dude, it’s product placement. She’s getting paid by Devil Hots.”
I don’t tell Tom I hate Devil Hots. I barfed all night after getting sick on a Devil Hots tequila concoction in college. I’m thinking I can fake eating them. How fucking hard will that be?
“Oh my God, is that Tom Cobalt?” Susie gasps, swinging her phone toward me and Tom as we pretend to stride past her.
He whirls around, then grips my bicep, stopping me in my tracks near the Ralph Lauren store. “Yeah, I’m Tom. And you are?”
I stare at his hand that lingers on my arm, barely hearing Susie’s response. He’s going to let go, right? Or does he want her to know we’re sort of together? Jesus, what is even “sort of” together?
And he doesn’t want that. We both agreed.
I don’t think he realizes he’s touching my arm for this long. I consider jerking away when his hand finally drops.
I’m more tense at his absence.
“Big fan of the Cobalt Empire,” Susie says. “I know everything about your family. Not in like a creepy way.” She makes an uh-oh face at her selfie camera. “But just a casual, cool way.”
“We don’t mind creepy,” Tom smirks.
I chime in, “Depends on the level of creepy.” I stare her down a little too hard, probably.
Susie giggles. “I promise I don’t have a shrine of Tom in my bedroom. Now Charlie Cobalt…” She sucks in a guilty breath.
Tom doesn’t take the bait to speak about his brother. I haven’t heard her mention The Carraways once yet, but I also tuned out a good portion. After she goes through the charade of acting like she spontaneously ran into us, we agree to a short interview on the street.
“We have a sec,” Tom says as we stand near the curb, out of the hustling footpath of pedestrians.
Susie puts a tiny mic up to her lips. “Are you single, Tom Cobalt?”
“Currently, yep, yeah,” Tom clears his throat, his neck reddening. He’s been asked this four times so far, and it’s the only question he ever fumbles.
“Are we suuuuure?” she draws out, squinting. “That felt like a yes.”
“Very single, Susie Mac.” He leans into her mic and speaks straight to her phone. “If you’re a dude over six-foot and love The Carraways, hit me up. My DMs are open for positive affirmations and other things.”
Wow.
It’s a kick to the ribcage. I can’t breathe for a solid second. The side of my fist rises to my mouth. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s not fine. Because I can’t shut the fuck up. “Unsolicited dick pics aren’t welcome,” I add.
Susie gasps into a grin. “Spicy. Do you agree, Tom? No dick pics?”
“No dicks pics,” he tells me, his smile slowly rising on me and soothing this pain in my chest. “You’ll have to be vetted by my drummer. Something tells me he’s very particular about who I get with.”
“Hmm, yeah.” I’m only staring at him. “I don’t like seeing Tom with assholes.”
Tom tells her, “Wolfgang is the biggest asshole in my life. I don’t have room for another.”
I look him over, just as Susie spins sharply to me and asks, “Wolfgang, are you single?”
“Very single,” I say more to Tom. He tries to ignore me as flush creeps up his neck again.
“Are your DMs open?” she asks.
I snap my gaze down to Susie. “No.”
Tom lets out a laugh. “Wolfgang doesn’t even know how to find his direct messages.”
I give him two middle fingers.
Susie grins up at me. “But if they were open, Wolfgang, who would you want to slide in there?”
I avoid Tom now and eye her. “So about our music…”
She giggles again. “Always about the music. I love the dedication to The Carraways.” She unpockets three fun-sized red boxes of Devil Hots, explains how she’s obsessed with the candy and wants to share the heat.
While she’s asking Tom about the album, we’re supposed to eat this spicy shit, and I’m so amped from the DM back-and-forth bit that I unconsciously throw a handful of candy in my mouth like Tic Tacs.
I bite into a chewy, spicy personal hell. The nauseating flavor explodes on my tongue. It tastes like literal vomit, and I cough hard into my fist.
“Dude?” Tom puts a concerned hand on my lower back. “What do you need?”
A time machine.
“Oh!” Susie gasps, and not because Tom is touching me. But because I lower into a squat and retch on the curb. It all instantly comes out. Hell, it never went fully down. I’m apologizing as soon as I stand back up, more to Tom than her. He’s glaring at me, probably pissed I’m offering a rare, authentic I’m sorry over this.