“I didn’t tell you because you were so upset about seeing him again. I didn’t want you to know he hit on me too.” I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to feel cheap. Because that’s what rock stars do, they use women like napkins and throw them away, forgotten.”
Her brow pinches together. “I’m not stupid, Lisa. I know he probably has no idea who I am anymore. I know he’s probably done exactly what he did with me with at least a hundred other women since. But Lisa…he’s amazing.” Wait. What? “I have never had a man with his skills before. After the interview, he hit on me. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but there was something about him. He seemed… I don’t know… vulnerable. I ended up falling for it and I had sex with him in the dressing room. But it didn’t end there. He took me back to his hotel and we spent the whole night talking, and… well… it was mind blowing. I ended up spending the whole weekend with him, and as much as I know I’m probably not the only one he’s done that with. I still don’t want to know for sure. I guess I’ve been hanging onto it. Hoping I was special, but hearing him ask you out too… well… it just confirms what I knew all along; I was just another girl to him.” She stands up and touches her fingers to the corner of her eyes, making sure that it doesn’t smudge her make up. “I don’t know why I’m upset. I guess I just thought you’d be honest with me.”
I stand up. “I’m sorry, Sandra. I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I just didn’t know the extent of your time together.”
She shakes her head. “It’s OK. I’m being an idiot. He’s a rock star for fuck’s sake. As if he’d really give a shit about a couple of girls working at a magazine right?”
I think back to Sunday morning when he was waiting for me on my front porch and bite at my bottom lip. Is that him giving a shit? Or is that just what he does? Either way, I don’t want to find out. “Exactly. I’m sure he’s moved on twenty times already,” I tell her, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to tell her he’s continuing to pursue me. “We should probably forget he even existed. I think that’s only fair.”
She laughs and gives a little sniff. “Yeah. Get our own back.”
I reach out and give her upper arm a squeeze. “For sure. He’s not worth it.”
With a wan smile, she rises from my desk and heads out the door, telling me she’ll talk to me later.
“Bye, Sandra.” When she’s gone, I sit and stare at my hand, remembering the way it felt when his fingers brushed against mine. It’s cruel that men like this exist. They run around making women feel like they’re the centre of the world, then they just…disappear. Or worse, they stay and fuck everything that moves on the side. “I don’t want you,” I whisper to the feeling beneath my skin. “Go away.”
God, what is it about these men that makes women go stupid? I have a genuine fear right now that Marcus Bailey is going to make a complete mess of my life and destroy one of the closest friendships I have. All because he can’t take no for an answer.
Five
Lisa
Spending two weeks looking over my shoulder is exhausting. I keep expecting Marcus to pop up again and get in my way. Thankfully, all has been quiet on my end. No random notes or visits to my home. Maybe he’s bored already? A girl can hope.
Marcus is lucky I don’t want him in my life, or I’d be feeling particularly pissed about now. He went to the trouble of finding me then… poof. Nothing. I’m glad he’s gone, but I’m feeling put out over the anxiety he’s caused me. I jump when the phone rings, I hold my breath when I open my front door, grind my teeth when mail comes for me at work. If he wasn’t planning on pursuing this ‘friendship’ he should have left well enough alone. I don’t need his brand of bullshit in my life. He’s disrupted my calm.
I have half a mind to track him down and give him a piece of my mind. Teach him a lesson he’ll never forget. But I don’t. I’m not about the revenge life. Well, not anymore…
Forcing thoughts of bloody Marcus from my mind, I prepare myself for my Friday night. This week, I’m planning a quiet night in for a change. Who am I kidding? I plan pretty much every night in. I don’t go for whole nightclub scene. I never really have. No… I’m lying. Once upon a time, I was a bleached-blonde party girl who could drink all night and sleep all day. My family was pretty connected, so bouncers would turn a blind eye, letting me into clubs and bars well before I was legally allowed. It all got very boring and repetitive by the time I hit my twenties and I was working all the time. I never understood how my friends could keep reliving the same night out, over and over. It felt like Groundhog Day. Eventually, I stopped accepting invitations. I guess that’s how my ex found it so easy to cheat on me. While I was at home, enjoying the simple things, he was out partying, enjoying other women…
It still hurts to think about it. Jon and I became an item just before my career started taking off. There was this huge New Years Eve party at some club one of my parents’ business associates owned. My friends begged me to go, and I relented since I didn’t want to spend New Years Eve alone. Jon was a friend of a friend of a friend. He was at the beginning of his career, attending a party with all the right people. At first, I was wary of his motivation behind talking to me, but then he took care of me when I got a little too drunk. He was the perfect gentleman, taking me back home and tucking me safely into bed without trying to cop a feel. The next day, he called to make sure I was OK then came over and took me to lunch. He was beautiful to look at, exciting to talk to, and took his time getting to know me.
He wooed me, expertly, and he slowly became my world, my one. When he proposed, I cried and said yes straight away. I seriously thought we would be together always. He was perfect for me, and I was perfect for him. I was going to take some time away from work so we could have kids who didn’t have to travel constantly like I did. There would be two perfect children and we’d be the best parents ever. But it was all bullshit. The man liked the way I made him look and the doors knowing me opened for him. He never loved me.
The last I heard, he was engaged to some girl who could easily be my doppelgänger. She looks exactly how I did back then. The man has a type. Well… two types. He wants a ‘good girl’ to wait for him at home, while he ‘sows his wild oats’ with his other type—anything with a pussy and two legs.
I shake my head, and for the second time tonight, I force thoughts of self-indulgent men out of my mind. I broke up with Jon over a year ago. He’s nothing to me now. Really, I should thank him. He opened my eyes and taught me that romance, love and a happily ever after are all just piles of shit we’re fed as kids to give us hope that the world is still magical when it isn’t. It’s full of lies, deceit and disappointment, and the faster we get used to that, the better off we’ll all be. Dogs are better than boys in my opinion.
Picking up my remote, I power on the television and flop down on the couch. Perry immediately climbs up next to me and rests his doggy head on my lap. I select a Jason Statham movie on Netflix then reach out for my glass of wine while I wait for it to load.
I take a sip, enjoying the cool, sweet liquid as it tantalises my taste buds and slides down my throat, that first sip of relaxation after a long week dealing with picky clients.
Absentmindedly, I sip at my wine and scratch Perry’s head as the movie starts, opening with a fight scene in the middle of a London street. Perfect. No love stories for me. I don’t believe in them anymore…
Marcus
“You know what you need right?” Craig says, as he walks with me to my car.
I flip my key over my finger and let it slap against the palm of my hand. “I know you’re about to enlighten me.”
His blue eyes reflect the lights of the car park that also makes his strawberry blonde hair look even redder. He’s an odd-looking man with a soft jawline and shrewd eyes. But he’s a good manager, and hasn’t done me wrong since we started working together at the start of my solo career.
“Are you ready for this?” He turns
to me and rubs his hands together as if he’s warming them up so he can use them to talk. Craig is a big hand gesturer. I swear that one day he’s going to knock someone out with those flailing arms of his. I often wonder if it’s because he’s a bit on the short and freckly side, so he tries to compensate for his lack of height and looks with an over the top personality and lots of money.
“I am.” I nod, waiting for his deep insight into my needs.
“A ton of pussy.”
“Pussy?”
“Tons of it. I can’t help but notice you’re a little on edge lately. And I also can’t help but hear the rumours about you saying no to more than a few girls. That’s not good for a man, Marcus. Your balls are so used to ejaculating that they’re gonna swell and explode.” He holds his hand up and opens his fist for emphasis, mimicking an explosion in his throat. “Do you want to be a soprano?”
Chuckling, I shake my head as I open my car door. “I don’t need a ton of pussy, Craig. I’ve had a few ton’s worth of pussy in my lifetime already. Maybe I want to try having one pussy for a while.”
Craig laughs and shakes his head. “You? With just one pussy? That’s like saying… I don’t even know. It’s so fucking wrong that I can’t even think of an analogy for it. You’ve lost your mind, mate. You’re not a one pussy man.”
“Goodnight, Craig. I’ll see you Monday,” I say, ignoring him as I climb into my car and shut the door. Craig continues to shake his head as I drive away.
I guess I can’t blame him for laughing at me. It’s not like I’ve ever had a steady girlfriend. I don’t even know if I’m capable of having a relationship. The closest I ever came to commitment was when I gave up groupies to try and show Naomi I was worthy of her. Not only did that not work out, it only lasted two weeks.
Naomi.
I hope your fame keeps you warm at night, Marcus.
I can’t get her parting words out of my head. It’s been ringing in my ears since she accosted me in the limo after my unplugged show. She’s always had this uncanny ability to see past my bullshit and cut me to the core with a few well-placed words. Now, as I step back and take a look at my life, all I can see is a man who has everything, and no one to share it with. Touché, Naomi. She’s got my number, even though my brother has her.
Maybe I’m just tired. When I think about it, I’ve been screwing around since I was sixteen years old. I’m now twenty-six. That’s ten years of senseless fucking. I know, I know. It’s most guys’ dream come true. And, until recently, I loved it. I mean, who doesn’t want to get lost between the legs of a beautiful woman every night? But like everything in life, repetition breeds boredom, and boredom breeds contempt. I’m tired of going through the same routine, day after day, night after night. I need something different, a new focus.
That’s why when I pull up outside Lisa’s house, I’m glad to see the inside lights on. It’s time for me to experience something real for a change. With her voluptuous curves, and her fiery attitude, Lisa feels real to me.
I hope she doesn’t slam the door in my face.
Lisa
Engrossed in my movie, it isn’t until Perry jumps off the couch and starts barking that I realise someone knocked on my door. Picking up the remote, I hit pause and shoo Perry out of the way so I can see who’s there.
Glancing through the peephole, I close my eyes and wish away my visitor. Nothing good can come of this. “I’m not home,” I call out, feeling slightly annoyed that he’s here. Again. What part of ‘I’m not interested’ isn’t he getting? I thought I got rid of him…
“That’s OK,” Marcus replies. “I’ll just wait out here until you get back.”
Despite my annoyance, I can’t stop my mouth from quirking in a slight smile at his response. “You’ll be waiting a while. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back,” I reply, watching him through the peephole.
He smiles and leans against the door. “OK,” is all he says, as he pushes back and moves to sit on my front steps.
I assume that he won’t stay there for too long and move back to the couch to continue watching my movie.
“Perry,” I call, trying to get my preferred companion to re-join me on the couch. But he won’t budge from the door. He just sits there, looking at it, then at me as his tail wags impatiently. “I'm not letting him in. You’re wasting your time.”
Perry whines then scratches at the door. “Seriously, Perry, what is your deal with this guy?” Perry responds by looking at me with his sad doggy eyes and continues to whine.
I roll my eyes and walk back over to the door. “Perry, if you still had your balls we’d be taking a trip to the vet after this. You’re supposed to be loyal to your owner. Not to some guy you’ve only met once.”
Seeing me place my hand on the doorknob, Perry’s tail wags like crazy. I’ve never seen him so eager for me to let a visitor in.
“You might as well come in. My dog would like to see you,” I say as I open the door.
Marcus stands immediately and turns his charming smile my way. “Your dog?”
“Yes. My dog.”
I stand aside as he walks in and immediately kneels down to scratch Perry behind the ears. “Oh, you’re a good dog. Aren’t you?”
As I shut the door, I realise I’m not really dressed for visitors. I’m just wearing black lounging pants, a white singlet top and an oversized cardigan with my UGG boots on my feet. My hair is twisted up in a lopsided bun and I don’t have a scrap of makeup on my face. Oh, my god. Why am I worried about how I look?
“I’m going to finish my movie,” I say, leaving Marcus and Perry to their love fest. I walk back to the couch and take a seat before pressing play again.
“Is this the one where he’s into the nun?” Marcus asks, as he sits down beside me. Perry, the little traitor, jumps up beside him and lays his head on Marcus’s lap. Once again, my eyes roll.
“She’s not a full-on nun. She was forced to become one. It’s not quite as sordid as you think,” I reply.
“If you say so.”
We sit quietly for a while, watching the movie together. This feels strange. There’s a man I barely know in my house, and my dog would rather be pet by him than by me. Uncool. I’m a third wheel in my own living room. I take a rather large gulp of wine and sigh.
I catch Marcus watching me as I set my glass on the coffee table. “I suppose I should offer you a drink. I mean, you’re officially hanging out with Perry, but he doesn’t like sharing his water bowl.”
He grins. “Sure. I’d like a drink.”
I hit pause again and head to the kitchen to fetch a glass and fill it for Marcus. I also return to the lounge room with the rest of the bottle to refill my glass. I’ll need more wine if I’m going to get through this visit. “I only have wine.”
“Wine is fine.” He accepts his glass and proceeds to watch me refill mine. My hand is shaking.
“Do I make you nervous?”
I lift my now very full glass and gulp down almost half of it. “Are you asking this me, or the me who’s at the bottom of this glass?” I ask, tilting my glass toward him.
He chuckles and takes a sip from his own glass. “Both.”
Perry lifts his eyes and looks at me. He seems so comfy right now. I wish I could be comfortable around Marcus.
“Then yes, I’m nervous having you here. When I finish this glass I won’t care much. “I remain standing, still holding my glass while I use the other to wrap my cardigan tighter around my body.
“Why are you nervous having me here?”
“Because I don’t know you. I don’t know why you’re here.”
“I told you. I want us to be friends.”
“Why? You can be friends with anyone.”
“That’s not true. It’s actually very hard for me to find a friend. Everyone wants something from me.” I know a little something about that feeling.
“Is this because I didn’t know who you were the other day?”
He shrugs. “That’s part of it
.”
I move and sit on the single lounge seat instead of right next to him, tuck my legs up and take another drink from my wine. My head is starting to feel the dizzying effects of the alcohol, helping me to relax during this odd visit. I don’t like the way he’s barging into my world, but I can understand how a man like him could be tired of fake friends. Back when I still lived with my parents, I came in contact with a few of their business associates who had famous ties, and many of them spoke of the same feeling; it’s hard to find people you trust who don’t want something from you. They were some of the most messed up people I’ve ever known too. Being famous isn’t for me.
“I looked you up,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes a little. “So, I think I know who you are now.”
His brow lifts. “Who am I?”
I blow out my breath slowly. “Existentially. I don’t even think you know the answer to that question. Your life seems too fast-paced for even you to have any idea.”
“Who am I theoretically then?” he asks, watching me over the rim of his glass.
“Theoretically, you’re a typical rock star. Your life seems to revolve around parties and women—neither keeping your attention long. You’re constantly on the move, and besides knowing you’re in your hometown now, I’d hedge a bet that you’ve spent a hell of a lot of time not knowing where in the world you are at any given moment.” I’ve heard a lot of rockers write the name of the city they’re in on the top of their set list so they don’t accidentally say the wrong one on stage.
He drops his attention to Perry, running his fingers over the dog’s golden coat. “Call me Carmen Sandiego.” He smiles, making light of my assessment.
“You also seem…” How do I say this without being completely insulting? “um, immature.”
Rock (Beautiful Book 4) Page 5
