Replay (Off Track Records Book 4)

by Kacey Shea

  “I’ll drink to that,” I mutter and lift my beer, feeling even more confused than before.

  “It’s her, isn’t it?” There’s amusement in his tone, as if he finds this funny. As if he finds it hilarious my dick can’t get up for a beautiful stranger and he knows exactly why. Asshole.

  “Who?” I turn to face him with a carefree expression even though I know damn well there’s only one woman he could be referring to.

  “So, it’s gonna be like that, is it?” He laughs and then tips his chin over my shoulder. He leans in close, motioning me to do the same as if he’s about to drop a secret. “She’s here, you know. Just walked in.”

  My entire body lights up with the news. My chest puffs up, my body tenses ready to make a move, and my dick throbs like it hasn’t spent the last hour in voluntary hibernation. But I need to play it cool. Fuck me, I can’t let her see how she’s gotten under my skin or stolen my game. I have my man card to protect.

  “You wanna look, don’t you?” Sean waggles his brows.

  I shrug, feigning nonchalance, and bring my drink to my lips, pretending for a moment they’re pressed against her warm skin and not a cold glass bottle.

  Sean laughs, but it dies as his stare comes to a halt at something across the room. For a second my pulse thuds with fear, but it’s quickly rectified.

  “And I’m out. Later, man.”

  “Wait, what?” I call after him, but he’s already pushing his way through the room. He’s like an animal claiming his prey, and good luck to any idiot who tries to stop him. “Some friend you are,” I grumble to myself as I watch Jess’s gaze find him stalking toward her. Her entire face lights up as if she’s just won a million dollars or been given the gift of her dreams, and I guess that’s basically the same thing. They’re disgustingly romantic as he sweeps her into his arms, kisses the hell out of her, and then practically drags her back out the doors she just came through. Thank fuck we have our own rooms tonight. No way do I wanna listen to them banging.

  “What’s a guy like you doing alone in a party like this?” a smooth and candy sweet voice croons at my right. It’s the wrong tone, nothing like Jayla’s, but I turn to take her in regardless. Gorgeous long legs, toned and tanned. She’s blonde but not from a bottle. No, she’s actually beautiful and yeah, she wears makeup, but not so much her face appears fake.

  “I’m not alone. I’m drinking with fifty of my closest friends.” I tip my bottle in the air. I should ask her if she wants a drink, or call over the bartender, but my eyes catch Jayla’s staring from across the room and I can’t find it in me to care about anything else.

  This beautiful young thing doesn’t slink from my coolness, though. She only laughs, and surprisingly it’s not an annoying sound. It’s warm, inviting, and I dip my gaze to hers for another moment.

  “I’m Destiny.”

  Of course she is. Old me would ask if her destiny includes joining me in my bed. But those aren’t the words that come out of my mouth. Apparently my mouth is as broken as my dick. “I’m Austin.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She laughs again, the sound throatier this time. She leans forward, and I’m granted a very generous view of her cleavage.

  I look, because I can’t not, but my gaze snaps back over her shoulder searching for someone else. Only this time Jayla’s not looking. Her back is planted against the wall next to one of the guards, and her attention is solely on him. He talks to her with a too friendly grin on his lips and I suddenly feel the urge to punch it off of his face. Who the fuck does he think he is? He better not be hitting on her.

  “Austin.” Destiny inches closer, her lips practically on my ear now. She doesn’t seem to care that I’m not fully invested. Or maybe she thinks I’m playing hard to get. “How about we get out of here? Spend a little time in your hotel room. I’ll let you do dirty things to me while I play with your cock.”

  Well, that gets my attention. Or at least my dick’s. He’s not totally broken. Phew. That’s a relief, but it’s short-lived, because as this woman pulls back, a Cheshire grin forms on her lips and I just know I can’t go through with it. Not with Jayla on my mind.

  “I don’t think so. Not tonight.” As soon as the words leave my lips, my dick fully retreats, and I’m not sure whether he’s more upset at this turn of events, or relieved we’re not gonna pretend Destiny is Jayla.

  “You sure?” Destiny’s brows rise and she’s shocked at my refusal. In all honesty, so am I. She’s supermodel gorgeous, and I doubt she ever gets turned down. Another night and I’d be salivating after her like a little puppy. But I only have eyes for one woman . . . and said woman is glaring daggers into the back of Destiny’s head at this very moment.

  Interesting. Either this lady hitting on me is a real threat to security or Jayla doesn’t like the idea of me hooking up with her. Jealousy is a powerful tool, one I didn’t think to use until this moment.

  I lean forward to drop a chaste kiss on Destiny’s forehead and flash her a smile. “Sorry, I’m not interested.”

  Destiny’s eyes widen wildly at the finality of my words. Shit. They came out arrogant and more asshole-ish than I intended. She flips her hair across her bare shoulder. “Your loss.”

  “I’m sorry, I—” The excuse dies on my lips. I’d do you, but I’d have to pretend you’re someone else.

  Her brow rises and the hardness in her gaze challenges me to continue stuffing my foot in my mouth.

  “Sorry.” I sound like an idiot. I feel like one too. A month ago I wouldn’t have apologized to any woman. A month ago I would have hauled this girl over my shoulder, slapped her barely clad ass, and had my wicked way with her.

  “Whatever,” she says, annoyed and put out by my rejection.

  “It’s not personal.” I try for nonchalant and shrug, but clearly that’s wrong.

  “Yeah, and karma’s a real bitch.” Her hands ball into fists as though she’s holding back her impulse to strike out physically. I almost wonder whether she will, but she must think otherwise and turns, walking all the way across the room and out the main doors.

  My gaze searches the room, wanting—no, needing—to find Jayla, if only to observe her reaction to the spectacle I caused. But she’s not here.

  “Looking for someone?” Trent saunters up with a beer in his hand. “’Cause your lay for the night just left in a huff. Not sure that you noticed.”

  “What?” I say, more irritated that I can’t find Jayla anywhere.

  “Oh, right. You didn’t notice the seething unicorn who just left the building. The one talking to you?” He laughs and slaps me on the back. “What did you say to her? It had to be absolutely horrid because she was totally into you otherwise. I thought for sure you’d be taking her back to your room.”

  “Why are you still talking?” I glance over his shoulder, but only find Lexi chatting with her sister. “And where the hell did Jayla go?”

  “Dude. No.” The smile falls from Trent’s lips and he shakes his head. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” I bark back more irritated than I should.

  “No fucking with Jayla. Not when we’ve just got things going good again.”

  “Jayla doesn’t want to fuck me.” I hate the truthfulness of the words.

  “Wow.” His eyes widen and he pushes his hair back from his face. “I don’t believe it. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  I scan the crowd again, but I lost her. Jayla is gone. My gut clenches with disappointment. So much for my attempt at provoking jealousy. I finish my beer with one last long pull and rub my temples after I slam the bottle back onto the bar. “What the fuck are you yammering about?”

  “You like her. You like-like her. You turned down a sure thing because you only want Jayla.”

  “Fuck you.” The fact he sees through my bullshit leaves me rattled, that and he’s exactly right.

  He laughs and I swear Lexi hones in on the sound, circling up to our spot at the bar with Opal and Leighton in tow.

  “W
hat’s so damn funny?” Lexi grins.

  “Austin. And the fact he’s being cock blocked by his own head.”

  “Wait, what?” Lexi leans in close. “This I need to hear.”

  “You are all fucking idiots.” I stare at their expectant gazes. The fact I’m talking to two happy couples only irks me further. “You think you have it so good with your person. All the support, and love, and fucking ‘how was your day?’ crap.”

  “Bro, how much did you drink?” Leighton chuckles.

  “I bet you pity me, don’t you”—I should walk away, or shut up, but now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop—“with your whispered little love secrets? Look at him. Poor guy. Doesn’t have anyone to share his hopes and dreams.”

  Trent just raises an eyebrow.

  “Well, fuck y’all anyway!” I throw up my hand and then pound my chest to drive my rant home. “I’m the smart one. I’ve got it all figured out. Last man standing. I should get a fucking award.”

  “More like last one to fall,” Leighton mutters but we all hear him clearly.

  “It’s a long way down from where you’re sitting.” Lexi crosses her hands over her chest, her brows raised incredulously. “I hope you brought a parachute.”

  “I’m standing.” I widen my stance. “And I’m not falling for anyone.”

  “Mmm hmm.” Opal takes a sip of her water, but she won’t meet my eyes.

  “Keep telling yourself that.” Trent slaps his hand on my shoulder. “Might even make it true.”

  “Whatever.” I push off the bar, not willing to be their entertainment for the evening. “This is bullshit. I’m out.”

  “Oh, come on, lonely boy!” Trent shouts. “Don’t bail. We’re just having fun.”

  I flip them the bird but don’t turn back. I’m tired of this party anyway, and Jayla isn’t here. I wish I knew where the fuck she went. Isn’t that her job, to keep us safe? How the hell is she gonna do that if she’s nowhere to be found?

  I walk out into the hotel lobby and when I don’t find her here, a sliver of worry that something bad happened works into my mind. That’s the reason I pull my cell out to text her. At least, that’s the lie I tell myself.

  Me: You okay?

  I walk to the bank of elevators, my stride lazy and my gaze on my screen.

  “Mr. Jones. Heading up to your room?” Ray, I think that’s his name, says low and rough as he hits the call button for the elevator. He’s on the security team and though I’ve never said more than two words to the guy, he always nods in greeting when we pass.

  “Yeah,” I say, remembering how Jayla asked we all request a security escort before heading back to our rooms. Fuck that. I’m not a baby. I don’t need anyone to witness me slinking back to my bedroom alone—like a loser—so early in the evening only to report my actions back to Jayla later. How pathetic. “Forgot something in my room. I’ll be back down.”

  He nods, holding the door open for me as I step inside. “Terrance is walking the halls if you need him. Or if you decide to stay in.”

  “Thanks, man,” I say, but I don’t like the way he hints at me staying in, as if he sees through my bullshit but won’t completely call me on it.

  I step into the elevator as my phone buzzes.

  Jayla: Working. What’s up?

  I don’t want to sound like a whiny bitch, but . . . fuck it. I step into the empty elevator and lift my room card to the sensor before pressing the top floor.

  “Hold the door, please!” Before the doors shut, two women race to step inside. Ray stops them, but one of the woman shoves her ass against the open door, halting it from closing. Great. They giggle, talking in hushed tones to Ray, but I can feel their eyes on me. Normally, that’d be enough for me to lift my gaze and smile. Maybe flirt. But I’m most interested in why Jayla left the party and where she’s working.

  Me: I didn’t see you leave. I didn’t get to say good-night.

  Jayla: Didn’t realize I needed to check in with you.

  She doesn’t, but I can’t deny I’d rather she did.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Jones, would you rather these two ladies wait for the next elevator?”

  I lift my gaze to find Ray and the two women staring. They look completely harmless, and I shrug, glancing around the empty lift, not caring one way or the other. “There’s room in this one.”

  Ray’s lip pinch and he gives a stiff nod. “I guess it’s your lucky night.” He allows them to clamber inside. “You get up to your rooms safely.”

  They giggle again, but my attention is back on my phone.

  Me: What’s your room number?

  Jayla: Bye, Austin.

  Me: Maybe I can tuck you in later?

  Jayla: Good. Night.

  I imagine she gives in to a smile even though she tries to fight it. It’s probably better she doesn’t share her room number. I’d be tempted to wait outside like some pathetic fool. Fuck. I shove my cell into my back pocket so I won’t message her again. The guys were right for giving me shit. I’m pussy whipped, but without access to her slice of heaven.

  The elevator stops and with a glance up at the number I realize it’s my floor. The two women are still inside, coy smiles on their lips. And now that my face isn’t buried in my phone, I notice how gorgeous they are. And how drunk. If eyes could fuck, that’s the look I’m getting.

  My bruised ego puffs up at their attention. I tip my chin and give in to a grin. Before the door slides shut, I step forward, my body blocking the sensors. “You ladies look like you’re up to no good.”

  They giggle. The sound strokes my confidence, but it’s nothing like Jayla’s.

  “Need help to your room?” one of them offers.

  I pause, considering her proposition. They’re both pretty, and I have no doubt they’d be up for a threesome. I imagine fucking one from behind while she eats out her friend. My dick full-out retreats with the idea. Fucker. The bastard can’t think of anyone other than Jayla, too.

  “I think I’ll manage on my own tonight. Thanks.”

  Their gazes fall with disappointment, but I don’t stick around to ease their rejection. I have one of my own to deal with, and I’m fully prepared to sulk in my room for the remainder of the night.

  Fucking hell. How much of a loser am I? I’m a motherfucking rock star, and here I am turning in early on the rare night we don’t have to ride a bus. I walk the distance to my room and slam the door behind me with more force than necessary. I’m pissed at myself for not being desirable enough for Jay. For not taking a random woman to my room. For overall sucking at life. I flip on the lights, going straight for the bar but not bothering with a glass as I split the plastic seal to the tiny Vodka bottle with a twist. I down it all within seconds, but the burn does nothing to dull the cycle of negative thoughts racing through my mind.

  Sweat gathers on my brow. My clothes stick to my skin. What the fuck kind of liquor is this? I check the label and then realize it’s the room that’s too hot. As if maybe the air hasn’t been running. I peel off my shirt, tossing it across the posh sitting area and then kick off my boots and socks before walking over to the thermostat.

  “Fuck!” I shout to no one as I fiddle with the controls. The damn thing is off, which means it’s probably not working. Just great. I’ll be tossing and turning in my own sweat all night. Thankfully, the damn unit finally clicks on after some reprogramming, and as cool air blows out, I exhale my own frustration.

  Nothing is going right. Nothing.

  Because all I want is her.

  She consumes every facet of my mind, like a skipping record. Jayla. Jayla. Jayla. I can’t get her out of my head. Maybe it’s only because she’s on this tour and I’m forced to see her every day. Or maybe it’s because I’m not accustomed to working for a woman’s affection. But no. It’s more than that. It’s that I’ve never felt this kind of connection to one person. That combined with the fear that she doesn’t return my attraction, that she doesn’t want me in the same way I want her . .
. it’s maddening.

  Knock, knock, knock. The sharp raps at the door startle me and I glance around, not sure exactly what I’m looking for. It’s almost one in the fucking morning. I know it’s not housekeeping. It’s not my bandmates. And wish as I do, I know it’s not Jayla, either. The probability of it being some hopeful groupie looking for a fuck slows my steps as I walk toward the door. Before I reach it, though, a white envelope slips through the bottom crack.

  I squint, and lean into the door to view out the peephole, but it’s completely dark. Strange. The beam of light beneath the door tells me the hallway lights work just fine.

  Someone doesn’t want me to see out. The thought hits me in the chest and I take a step back, my eyes trained on the damn letter as if it’s a loaded gun, or a bomb ready to explode. My pulse races as apprehension prickles my skin. I think back to the girl from the party, the one who told me karma’s a bitch, and wonder if I’m being served up a platter of that now. Or maybe this is connected to the package I received at Christmas?

  I muster the courage to move closer and pick up the note, but there’s another sharp knock followed by a shuffle of footsteps. Fucking hell, stop being a pussy! I’m not usually like this. I may not be the first to run into a burning building, but when it comes to the safety of those I love or defending my honor, I’ve been known to be a little reckless. I mentally slap myself for standing here like an idiot.

  “Who’s there?” I holler, proud of the strong and dominating tone of my words. But the only answer that comes is more wordless movement from the other side.

  This is the scene in the horror film when the dude creeps toward danger, opens the door, and gets slaughtered. My mind wants to rationalize there’s a perfectly acceptable reason for someone to be knocking at my door, but given everything that’s happened, I can’t bring myself to reach for the doorknob or retrieve the note. I’m too talented and young to die this way.

  The paranoid sensation that someone has been watching and waiting to find me alone in this hotel scatters all rational thought. Fear, real and palpable, consumes my mind. I hate feeling scared. Hate being alone. It reminds me too much of my youth.