I held her gaze. She said nothing.
I leaned in close, so she couldn’t ignore it.
“Maggie, I love y—”
“NO. We’re not doing that.”
I took a deep breath, in through my nose, out again. “Why not?”
“Because we do that, I lose my job, Zane.”
“I told you. I’ll talk to Brody. He’s a brother. We’ve been friends since I was fourteen. You think he cares more about the business than the band, than me, you’re dead wrong.”
“That’s not how it works, Zane. You think we tell everyone and the next day we just… What? Start dating? Your groupies bounce in and out of your bed, and on the side you buy me flowers and court me, take me to dinner, ask me about my favorite color and my girlhood dreams?” Her gray eyes held mine, cool and unflinching. “Or maybe it’s the groupies who’re on the side.”
I didn’t even respond to that. I tried to keep my cool, when I really wanted to slap her upside the head for the first time in my life.
“It’s pink,” I said calmly. “You pretend your favorite color is lime green, like that suede jacket you always wear, but it’s pink.”
She frowned at me.
“And your girlhood dream? You wanted to be a genie. Like the girl from that old TV show. Because you wanted to live inside the magic bottle with the wraparound couch, and you had a thing for the astronaut guy.”
She frowned deeper and crossed her arms over her chest. “So? He looked hot in his uniform.”
“So you said.”
“I didn’t know you were listening.”
I took her by the waist and pulled her to me, but she wouldn’t let me get close; her hands went to my chest and held me off.
“You wanna date, we can date,” I told her. “You want flowers, I’ll get you flowers. Whatever the fuck you want.”
“Until what? I catch you in the middle of your latest fuck-bunny orgy?”
“That doesn’t have to be the way it is.”
She shoved me away, and I let my hands drop.
“You forget who you’re talking to,” she said flatly. “I’ve seen it all before.”
“Seen what before?”
She shook her head. “It’s an old, old story,” she said, “and it’s fucking boring, and I know how it ends.”
Old story?
It hit me then, what she meant.
She wasn’t even talking about us.
“I’m not Dizzy,” I told her. “I’m not your fucking dad.”
“Maybe not.”
Jesus. The girl was fucking stubborn. “So why don’t you tell me, then. How does it end? Because I’d really like to know, since you’re able to see into the fucking future.”
“It ends,” she said, “when we get a divorce. And after that, if I haven’t already, I lose my job. I get dumped, phased out. Whether it’s fast or slow, however you want to look at it, you’re the rock star, and I’m gone.”
Fuck. I could see why she’d think that. I really could.
But that was never gonna fucking happen.
“It won’t be like that, Maggie.”
“It will.”
I clawed my hand through my hair. We were standing a few feet apart. Other than fucking her a few minutes ago, it was the closest I’d been to her in days and it was still way too fucking far. I just wanted to hold her. Grab her and throw her down and squeeze all the fucking bullshit right out of her. Shake it out. Kiss it out and suck it out and fuck it out.
But that had never worked before.
“So that’s it? We’re doomed to failure? That’s all you wanna see?”
“I want you not to tell anyone. So that means you won’t tell anyone.”
We stared at each other for a long minute.
Then I turned away. I looked at the door, and I thought about just walking straight out. For the first time in my life I actually had the urge to walk out on Maggie.
But I turned back to her.
“And then what? I get you six times a year, when I manage to get you alone?”
“No, Zane.” Her gray eyes held mine, tight and cool; I could practically see the wall going up between us. “Even if we fuck six times a year, you don’t get me at all.”
I just stared at her. Couldn’t really believe she’d fucking said that.
But she did.
I did up my jeans. Slowly, so she had time to stop me if she wanted to.
She didn’t. Unfortunately for me and my aching dick, didn’t seem like there was any chance in hell we were gonna finish that fuck.
So I grabbed my leather jacket and some weed, and I went for the door. “For the record,” I said as I opened it, “I am not always fucking someone.” Then I paused, half-in and half-out, and looked at her again, totally fucking pissed that it always had to end like this. That one of us was always walking out.
Actually, she was always walking out. That was the bullshit pattern.
We fucked. We fought. Maggie got pissed. Maggie walked out.
This time, it was finally my turn. Because I’d never been so pissed off at her in my life.
“And if all I get is six times a year,” I told her as I left, “maybe I’d rather have nothing at all.”
Chapter Nine
Maggie
It was the night of our very last show in L.A.. Though it was a Wet Blanket show, every member of Dirty except Elle had joined the band onstage for at least one song. The whole night was incredible, probably the best Wet Blanket show I’d ever been to.
Not just because of the sheer number of rock stars who took the stage, but because Zane was in such incredible form.
It was arguably his best performance of the tour so far.
The show was at Dylan’s nightclub, and though the band had long ago come offstage, the bar had closed and most everyone had been cleared out, the bands were still hanging out, drinking. We were all crowded into the VIP lounge upstairs; Dirty, Steel Trap, and the members of Wet Blanket, along with wives and girlfriends and other friends.
Even Paulie was here; one of Wet Blanket’s long-standing guitarists, Paulie had nearly joined Dirty before Seth came back, but had to drop out when his wife was diagnosed with cancer. She was now in a long remission, Paulie had come out for the show, and everyone was in great spirits.
Except me.
Tomorrow, Dirty had a sort-of day off with some light promo, just some phone interviews. The day after that, we headed down to San Diego for one show there. Then we were done in California. We’d say goodbye to Brody, Ash, Roni and the Wet Blanket guys, as well as my good friend Jessa Mayes, who’d flown down for the L.A. shows to hang with us and see her man, Brody.
Then Dirty and Steel Trap would continue the Hell & Back tour, heading onward to Arizona and Nevada.
And I had this weird feeling things were going to change for the worse once we left the west coast. Maybe it was getting farther and farther from home. Or saying goodbye to Brody and Jessa, even though Brody would be back soon.
But I felt a deep unease and sadness about it all.
Like I was about to go into free fall or something.
It was getting late, like almost four in the morning, and things were starting to mellow out. Elle and Seth and Jessa and Brody had already headed back to the hotel a while ago. But Zane was still here, so I was, too.
The Black Keys’ “Psychotic Girl” was playing and all the remaining couples were snuggled up together, pawing at each other, the rest of us kinda rolling our eyes in semi-jealousy as we drank.
The usual.
Katie was sitting in Jesse’s lap and Amber was sitting in Dylan’s, the four of them all cozied up in a booth together. A bunch of our security guys were hanging around, most still on-duty and not drinking. But Jude was up by the bar with Roni, his arms wrapped around her as she played with his hair, a drink in his hand. They were talking, kissing, and pretty much oblivious to anything else going on around them.
It was nice to see Jude be able to relax a litt
le on tour, let down his guard. Have his guys take care of things for a while, while he just enjoyed being with Roni.
It was amazing, really, to see them so in love.
All of them.
My people. My family.
I liked seeing my friends happy, obviously. I especially liked it when the members of Dirty were happy. Made all our lives a hell of a lot more enjoyable, especially on the road.
Plus, it made the fangirls less welcome.
We all loved the fans. We needed and appreciated them. But if I never had to see any of the guys in the band making out with a groupie again, it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship.
For his part, our temporary bassist, Matt, had definitely been enjoying his share of groupies on this tour, as had a few of the Steel Trap guys. Though tonight, Matt didn’t seem to be looking to hook up.
He was sitting with me.
I wasn’t even sure how we’d ended up sitting together, but maybe since we were both pretty much alone, it just happened. We didn’t know each other well yet, and he was asking me all kinds of get-to-know-you questions like he was genuinely interested.
I was thinking how nice he was for a hot rock star who could’ve been a total dick. He wasn’t a dick. Matty seemed to be about as sexually-charged as they came; no surprise there. You took a guy with great genes and musical talent, gave him an electric bass and put him onstage, the women were gonna be lining up to fall at his feet.
That was the reality of the world I’d always lived in.
But he definitely wasn’t a dick about it.
Actually, I was thinking I could probably like a guy like Matty Brohmer, like… like him—you know, if I wasn’t already in over my fucking head with Zane Traynor.
I was watching him across the room as I chatted with Matt. He was sitting in a booth with Shady, Alec, and a couple of the Wet Blanket guys. His hair was styled up in a cool, mussy fauxhawk, the way he wore it onstage. He wore ripped jeans and an old Judas Priest Love Bites T-shirt with the sleeves and sides cut out, and his elbows were up on the table; I could see his bare waist and the curve of his pectoral muscle. I could see his nipple piercing when he leaned forward.
And Christ… I wanted to lick him all over. Nibble every inch of his amazing body and hear those sounds he made when he was lost in lust.
He wasn’t looking back at me. I knew he was still mad at me.
He had every right to be.
But it was killing me.
He hadn’t spoken to me all night. He hadn’t spoken to me in two days, actually. Two. Days. He wouldn’t even look my way anymore.
And it was so much harder than when I froze him out. Which was already fucking hard enough.
Was this what it felt like for him when I avoided him?
Shit.
I was a terrible, terrible person.
I kind of tuned in and out of the conversation with Matt, managing to keep up my end of it, mostly, while keeping an eye on Zane. I was pretty practiced at this after so many years of wanting him from afar.
But I was distracted as hell.
Did he really mean what he’d said? That he’d rather have nothing, no part of me at all, if he could only have so little?
Did he really want me out of his life?
“Maggie?”
I startled, and refocused my attention on Matt. Jesus. How long had I been staring at Zane?
“Yes. Sorry, what was that last part?”
A smile spread slowly across Matt’s handsome face. He ruffled his hand through his hair, his forehead crinkling as he raised his eyebrows at me. He had thick brown hair that stuck out in all directions and a crooked smile, and he was definitely too cute to be ignored. “You don’t have to sit here,” he said, “if there’s someone else you’d rather be talking to. I don’t want to bore you.”
“No. You’re totally not—”
“I mean, I’ll be wounded. But I won’t hold it against you.” His keen, kinda soulful hazel eyes danced a little in the candlelight. He was maybe half-serious.
He was maybe flirting, a little.
He was definitely being nice, and I was being a distracted weirdo.
“It’s not that. You’re far from boring, Matt.” True story. The guy had rocked the stage with Wet Blanket tonight, could have any girl sitting here with him, and yet he was sitting with me. The least I could do was put in the effort to carry a decent conversation. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“No doubt. You work too damn hard. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Kinda.”
More like daily.
“Have another one.” He slid a fresh beer my way; there were several of them lined up on the table, left behind by Dylan, who’d ordered too many then wandered away. “You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you.” I really didn’t need another beer, and yet I wanted it tonight.
“I hope they let you know what you’re worth to them,” he said. “I’ve been through several managers, Maggie, and what Dirty has with you… it’s special. You should know that.”
“Thank you. It’s really Brody who runs the show, though. I just help him out with whatever needs doing.”
Matt laughed. “Sure. Brody’s great. He’s definitely one of the best managers I’ve ever had the chance to work with. Believe me, if there was any chance in hell I could join Dirty permanently, I’d be all over it. Not just because of the band and the music, but because of Brody and your team. I’d love to be on board, but I know that’s never gonna happen.”
“Yeah. Sorry, Matt. It’s always so hard for us, too, having guys step in when it’s not permanent. Because we know we’ll have to let you go at some point.”
He just shrugged good-naturedly. “You guys have Elle, so I know there’s no room for me. I’ve got no illusions about that. And like I said, I’d love to keep working with Brody. But it’s not just him. If no one’s ever told you before, I’ll be happy to be the one to tell you, Maggie. What you do for Dirty, day in and day out, the kind of love you have for them, that kind of selfless devotion… the way you put their needs ahead of everything else and genuinely care about them, not just making money through them… that’s rare and it’s fucking invaluable. If you need me to tell Brody you need a raise, just let me know.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Matt. They treat me well, and they do tell me that kind of thing. But it’s always nice to hear.”
Matt raised his beer in toast. “Well, here’s to a killer band with a killer management team I’m totally honored to be a part of for a while.”
“Cheers. And believe me, we’re honored to have you.” I sipped my beer. “You know, the guys are very picky about who they’ll bring onstage, especially Jesse and Zane. And I know they’re all thrilled to have you up there with them. Elle couldn’t have dreamed of a better bassist to fill her stylish boots.”
He chuckled. “Pretty sure she looked better doing it, but I’ll try to make her proud.” His gaze scanned my face as we drank our beer. “So. You’re in love with him, huh?”
I stared at him, freezing in place as the blood in my veins slowly turned to ice. “I’m not… No.” I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Matt grinned. “See. If you weren’t, you would’ve respond to that totally differently. You would’ve asked Who? But you didn’t do that. Which means you had someone in mind when I said that.”
“Uh, no. I’m just—”
“Who is it?” He leaned in conspiratorially, and I realized he really didn’t know who. “You can tell me. I’m not a gossip.”
I sipped my beer, straightening my shoulders and sitting up perfectly straight. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Right.”
I gave him a cool eyeballing. “And for the new guy on the block, you’re damn nosy, I’ll tell you that.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just perceptive is all.”
“Hmm.”
“I mean, when I first came onboard, obviously I noticed you’re
smoking hot. Noticed you were single. Can’t blame a guy for that.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. Gorgeous eyes. Tight little bod…” For the first time since we sat down together—that I’d noticed—his gaze wandered south of my face. Then his eyes met mine again and I raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t even sure if he was coming on to me, or working his way toward some sort of point. “No ring on that ring finger…”
“Uh-huh.”
“But then I realized, you’re not available.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, you’re not available.”
“Except that I am available. Because, as you said, I’m single.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes. I am.”
“You’re totally available?” he challenged.
“Yup.”
“Meaning you could hook up tonight with some random dude in this bar.”
“Yup.”
“Some stranger.”
“Yes.”
“Like some charming bass player you hardly know…”
“If I wanted to.”
“You could just lean in…” He put his elbow on the table between us and leaned in, until he was inches from my face. “And kiss me.” His gaze dropped to my lips. “Right now.”
“If I wanted to,” I repeated.
His eyes met mine. “Here’s your chance.”
“Lucky me.” I made absolutely no move to kiss him, sipping my beer instead.
He grinned. Then he sat back in his seat and drank his beer. He waggled his finger at me. “I’ll figure you out, Maggie Omura. I’ll find out who it is.”
“Just when I thought you were a nice guy, Matt,” I said dryly.
He laughed again.
I sipped my beer, and when I glanced in the direction of Zane’s booth again, Alec was just walking away. The Wet Blanket guys had disappeared.
Zane and Shady were alone in the booth.
Dirty Like Zane: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 6) Page 11
