Bjorn felt his phone vibrating inside the back pocket of his tight leather pants, as he pulled it out and giggled. Fuck! It was brat boy messaging him. What the fuck did he want now?

"Where's your bassist, bitch? Fuck you, brat boy!"

The Swede laughed and then began messaging back over the noise in the club he was currently in. Ulrik was sat with Dee in the corner and Sigurd was at the bar ordering another round of drinks. He began messaging back;

"Fuck you, brat boy! He's here with me, Ulrik and Dee in club by the beach. Big red neon sign of a heeled boot. You bored and want fucked?"

Sticking his tongue out at the phone, Bjorn laughed and wondered what brat wanted.