Every woman wants me–except the one I sing for. Seattle shakes with anticipation: they call it the concert of the year. They say girls are getting pregnant just thinking about Crack Bikini being in town. But when you love a girl, you don’t leave her with nothing but a ring and a promise. Any man with half a brain should know.. So what did I expect my girl would do when she saw me again? Well, for starters, she loathes our music. Particularly the song I wrote about her. When I sing it, the stadium is in an uproar. Thousands of fans scream my name like I’m a god–but yeah, not her. Crystal clear: the girl’s not happy to see me. Black hair, black boots, a bad attitude, that’s her — Pandora Stone is a freaking man-eater and she’s out for my blood. That’s alright. Let her come at me. Because I’m out for her heart and, this time, there’s no way she can stop me.
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