The next day when Percy, the butler, greeted her at the door of her family home, her head pounded. She had stayed with Mick as long as possible, but they were getting ready for the sound check at the TD Garden and she had to transform herself into the socialite's daughter to sit at the dining room table.

Doyle and Mick slept late after the orgy where he sucked on the boob's face. A pounding ache blocked the nagging in her head. She was the one who stood up for women's rights. When men uttered words like boobs or chick, she gave them a lecture about misogyny. Her lectures had stopped the day her hazel eyes met the ice-blue ones.

As she entered her room, she sighed. It was nice to be alone with her belongings. For a month on the bus, she had no privacy. Even sex wasn't private. She had also lived out of a duffle bag, but she repacked it with fresh clothes. Hopefully, the stupid dinner would be quick because she wanted to get back to Mick. With her edited photographs sent off to the magazine, she could dedicate her time to making him happy. She didn't need her heavy camera bag, so she stowed it in her room. Mick had been jealous of her camera too.

In the shower, as the hot water cascaded over her, she thought back to Mick's face as she kissed him goodbye. "Sorry, I'll get back as fast as I can. You know how family is."

He looked at her blankly. "Are you going to meet a guy?"

"No! The only guys are my brothers." She never mentioned their names, not that the band paid attention to anyone but themselves on social media. "I'll see you backstage or at the hotel. Whichever, I'll be back. We are together."

"We're not staying backstage. We'll party in my suite."

"Our suite." She kissed him with hot tongues. Then she had to walk away.

Gio was in the hall, as she went to the elevator. "Finally leaving?"

Weighed down with her bags, she shook her head. "Just getting clean clothes. Mick and I are together."

"You aren't gonna be fucking Yoko."

"What are you smoking? I love Unhinged Rage and I love Mick. We are Paul and Linda."

"You're the one who is high. I only care about the band and my guys. Got that?"

"Yeah. We're on the same page." Except they weren't. Once she finished her job, Gio stopped being so friendly. He definitely didn't like her hanging around. The way he rounded up half-naked girls to party with the band, he was more of a pimp than a manager.

She chose a dress that Amelia would approve of, but she could also wear for Mick. It fit her like a glove and was short, but it had a designer label. Her shower did nothing to help her headache. She had been going back and forth between coke and weed, stimulant versus non stimulant trying to get it to go away. Since she finished dressing with a few minutes to spare, she slipped into the backyard to smoke a joint.

Kasper found her. "Doy, what the hell! Mother will kill you if you're high for dinner."

"Give me a break. I have a headache. Here."

"Nah, I have to do a drug test for my next show."

"The one with the bachelors?"

"Nope. They didn't have space for me this time. It's some cooking thing."

She laughed. "You can't cook."

"That's the whole point. I missed you, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great. I'm in love."

"Seriously. Amelia will flip if you pick a rocker."

"Not just any rocker, Mick Smith. I'm going back to the band after dinner and I'm not sure when I'll be back."

"Doy, don't do it. He'll break your heart."

Ignoring his advice, she forced a smile. "Let's do this."

They walked into the parlor together. Amelia flitted around like a happy bird. "All my children together." She scrutinized Doyle, but was too happy about something to comment.

Doyle leaned over and kissed her father's cheek. "Hi, Daddy."

"Are you home now?"

She shook her head. "I'm going back."

He started to say something but stopped himself with a long sigh. Philip preferred peace at any price, and wouldn't voice his concerns. A wave of guilt went through Doyle hoping she didn't cause him stress. If she shut her eyes, she could see her family gathered around the hospital after his heart attack. She remembered thinking the doctors had to save him, but having loads of money was useless.

After Baxter fell in love with Ivy, a girl Amelia didn't approve of, and he left the family home which would become his one day, Doyle feared being shut off financially. Then she remembered Tate had almost married a reality star. Mick had to have millions. They could be happy without Kane family money. Mick didn't even know who her family was.

As Baxter eyed her, she tensed remembering his threats about sending her to rehab. She needed to go back to Mick, not some place to lecture her about drugs. "Where's Tate?"

Amelia smiled. "The guest of honor will be here."

Baxter smiled proudly. "I'm not the late one."

Kasper chuckled. "Thank Ivy."

"Why is Tate the guest of honor? I thought it was just a family dinner."

Ivy smiled. "Because of Jimmy."

Doyle looked around. Her mother shot lasers at Ivy with her glare. "Jimmy's coming?"

Amelia turned to her and smiled. "With Tate, they're a couple. Isn't it perfect?"

Doyle scoffed, "Fear of commitment Jimmy Sinclair? No way."

Baxter smiled. "He kissed her when they were both a mess after the accident."

Doyle shut her eyes. Tate had been a wreck after she had seen the truck hit her best friend; everyone loved Sheridan. Doyle kept imagining her body flying through the air. Was she alive? Did she feel it? Did she know she was going to die? It was the day of the funeral when she went for a walk with some boys from Tate's class. They were sixteen while she was only thirteen. She remembered looking around scared when they lit up a joint and offered it to her. She never knew if she tried it to look cool or because of Sheriden, but for the first time in days, the image of a body flying disappeared.

Tate and Jimmy arrived with smiles even after Amelia fawned over them. Like after that first joint, Doyle drew in a full breath. Maybe it was okay that she didn't stop the loser from cheating on Tate the day before her wedding. In the dining room, Doyle wondered if Ivy was jealous that Jimmy fit in with their family so easily.

Amelia frowned. "It's too bad you lost your wedding dress."

Doyle rolled her eyes. Tate looked like a deer in the headlights. "I would never wear the same dress."

Jimmy said, "She didn't lose it. She left it behind and I went to check on her the next morning, but she had left, so I took it."

"Wait, a minute! You stayed in Vail another day?" Baxter didn't hide his surprise.

Jimmy nodded. "To make sure Tate was okay."

"But you hated her." Doyle felt more confused than ever.

"No, I didn't realize it, but I loved her."

"Thanks to the cross." Tate smiled.

The Kane cross had an old tale about how a Kane would fall in love with the first person they kissed while wearing it. "But that just made Tate fall for you. I thought she hated you."

Jimmy laughed. "I did too."

Philip cleared his throat. "Doyle, the cross affects both involved."

"You should know, I'm in love." She expected shocked and worried faces. "Seriously, I am."

Tate spoke first. "I'm glad you managed love without this." She took the cross off. "Here Dad."

"Put it in my study." Philip sipped his scotch eyeing Jimmy.

As dinner continued, Doyle sat quietly because her head pounded. She felt cold and rubbed her arms. Every high crashed, and she felt worse than before she stepped into the garden. When the family went into the parlor for after-dinner drinks, she slipped into her father's study. The gold jewel encrusted cross felt warm in her hand. She smiled. Soon Mick would love her as much as she loved him.

In her room, she traded her heels for her thigh-high boots and grabbed her packed bag, then she slipped out without saying goodbye. and into the Uber waited on the corner. Damn, it was later than she hoped. Because people worked on Fridays, her mother had dinner at eight o'clock.

As she entered the hotel, she put her head down. Couples dressed in evening wear milled around the lobby. She smiled, rockers were getting high above the room where couples like her parents paid thousands for a table. When she entered the suite, the party was raging. On the table were lines. She dropped her bag by the door and did one line right away. She needed to get rid of the headache. Gio glared at her. "That was my shit."

She shrugged. Everybody always shared. "Where's Mick?"

He pointed to the bedroom with a sly smile. Doyle opened the door and felt a switch go off the minute she saw some random straddling her boyfriend. "Fuck, babe. You are so fucking hot."

White hot flames filled her with rage. "What the fuck, Mick!"

"Get out of here." Mick grunted.

"Yeah, bitch get out of here and off my man."

"I meant you. Get out of here. I'm tired of you clinging to me like a fucking amoeba."

He was still fucking the bitch. Doyle wanted to puke; she was the D cup from New York. How the hell did she get to Boston?

"No Mick, you love me. Kiss me!"

"I said get the fuck out of here." He swung his arm, and she almost lost her balance. She felt lightheaded like it was a dream.

"You fuck off." She held up her phone and took a picture of him. Maybe she'd get revenge.

He was quick and pushed her again. She fell backwards and hit her head on a table. Next thing she knew Gio was forcefully dragging her out of the suite and into the service elevator. They often used it to avoid attention. Her head spun. When they reached the back of the hotel, he grabbed her phone. She fought him, but she fell again onto the pavement.

He kicked her over and over. "You're a slut. All you do is cause trouble. You're getting what you deserve." He smashed her phone on the ground and continued kicking her repeatedly in the stomach before moving to her face. Would he ever stop? She saw her family flash in front of her; she was going to die. Tate couldn't save her.

Then the kicking stopped, and she heard sirens. A giant bent over her, as she gasped, "Help me."

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