A blind man could tell that they’d screwed. Loren was a few paces behind me, trading fucking beauty tips with the makeup artist we hired for Braxton—who right now looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. I made a quick decision. I decided I didn’t want to spend the rest of the tour breaking up the fights between Houston and Lo. Yanking Houston’s shirt from his fucking jeans, I let him see my disapproval before turning to Braxton. Her hair was pinned up, and for once, I didn’t bother asking permission. I undid the messy bun at the top of her head and watched the red waves fall
...more
