by Franca Storm
“The only attention I like is yours, Nicki! Get that through your fucking head!” I yell, losing my cool.
“Then start showing me that!” she screams, raising her voice even higher.
People are looking our way. Great. I hate public drama like this. Argh!
“You’re making a fool of yourself; yelling in public like this. You look like an insecure little girl.” Oh, real smooth, asshole. Shit. She’s not gonna take that well at all.
“I don’t want girls touching you!”
“It was nothing, Nicki! You’re overreacting big time! Get a fucking grip!”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “Fuck you, John,” she spits out.
The next thing I know, she’s turning from me and hurrying away into the crowd. It takes mere seconds before the crowd swallows her up and I lose sight of her.
Dammit!
Chapter 35
~Nicki~
“How about this one?” Chloe asks, holding up yet another outfit she just pulled out of her closet. I’ve lost count of how many she’s shown me so far. This one is a backless black leather dress with a plunging neckline.
“That’ll definitely garner you all of the spotlight at the show.”
“Yeah, I hear you. Maybe too much, right?”
“A little. What about pants? Wouldn’t they be more comfortable sitting in at the drum kit rather than a dress?”
She rolls her eyes. “Please, Nicki. I can make anything work.”
“That’s true. Maybe something with more of a rocker edge to it then?”
She nods and delves back inside her closet. I slump onto the edge of her bed and brush the duvet cover absently as I try to summon my patience. I’m not a girly girl and spending hours helping her pick out an outfit is my idea of torture, not a good time. But I’m sucking it up because she’s my friend and she needs my help. Least I can do.
“So, what’s going on with you and Mitch?” I ask. Anything to distract me from this boredom.
“Oh, yeah. We screwed around a couple of times.”
“I knew it! How did that happen? You guys have never been—I mean—you’re always fighting. It’s all you’ve ever done.”
She laughs. “Sexual tension, babe. Plus, the first time it happened we were both drunk. But…no…never mind.”
“But what?”
She looks over her shoulder at me and winks. “It was so fucking good. He’s a monster in bed, Nicki. And when we came together….wow…we did things that I’ve never done before. Dirty stuff. Hot stuff. He likes it rough and—”
I hold up my hand quickly. “Details not needed. I get it.”
She laughs and turns back to her closet. “Right, he’s in the band and John’s roommate. Awkward.”
“Just a little.”
“Well, it’s over and done with anyway.”
I can hear the sadness in her voice. “Why don’t you just talk to him?”
She turns around and leans against her closet, blowing out a breath. “I’ve tried, but he’s made it clear. All or nothing. I just want it to be a casual thing. Sex with no strings. But he wants more. There’s nothing more to say.”
“Well, what’s wrong with more?”
“He’s not the kind of guy I should be dating.”
“Cuz he’s not rich?”
She shakes her head. “He thinks I care about that, but it’s not about that. It’s just…he doesn’t get my world, what’s expected of the men I do date and bring into my life. He’s not made for that. It would just rip us apart, Nicki. He wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“You’re already apart. Why don’t you just give it a try? He’s a good guy. You have a lot in common. The band. The same sick sense of humor. You’re both headstrong and incredibly arrogant.”
She laughs. “Thanks for the compliments.”
“Sorry. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s not worth it, Nicki. We’re done. I was a little jealous at the party the other night when I saw him flirting. But I got over it and ended up hooking up with a guy myself. We’re cool now. Back to normal. It was just a good time.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“You seem sad, Chlo?”
She shakes her head and flashes me a devilish grin. “Sad about losing the mind blowing sex. Now I have to wade through a bunch of losers to find a man who can hold his own again.”
Well, it’s clear she’s made up her mind about her and Mitch calling it quits. And when Chloe makes a decision, it sticks. There’s no getting her to change it.
She grabs another outfit from her closet and drapes it across her arms as she perches beside me on the bed. “You’re deflecting big time, Nicki.”
“What?”
“Focusing on my love life to avoid thinking about your own.”
“I am not,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.
She smiles at my obvious defensive gesture. “He wasn’t flirting back, Nicki. I was there. He looked really uncomfortable.”
My eyes narrow. “Why are you defending him? You know what he’s like.”
“I’m just telling you what happened.”
I haven’t spoken with John since we played that sorority party a couple of days ago and I saw those girls all over him. He still hasn’t bothered to apologize, so there’s been nothing more to say.
I sigh heavily. “He’ll always be like that; drawing women to him like moths to a flame. He loves it, too. He’s an attention whore.”
“So what? He’s not gonna take it any further.”
“You don’t know that. A little too much to drink and a groupie who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer and voila!”
“He wants you, Nicki. Just you. You told me he said he loved you, right?”
“Yeah. Words, Chloe. Just words.”
“Words that a guy like John isn’t gonna throw around lightly. If he said them, he meant them.”
“Until he doesn’t. Until he gets bored of me. I’m just something different for him. And I’m not all put together and model-worthy like the women he’s used to messing around with.”
Chloe studies me closely for a moment, clearly trying to figure me out. Her eyes flash and then she says, “You’re scared.”
“What? Scared?” I scoff. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re in deep with him and it’s freaking you out. So, you’re using this groupie thing to put up a wall and withdraw from him.”
“I…no I’m not.” Am I?
“Babe, you are.”
“No, I’m just sick of him allowing those women to throw themselves at him, to hound him. It’s been out of control since word spread about us playing Eclipse. And it’s pissing me off. He never pushes them away. Never tells them that we’re together.”
“Talk to him, Nicki.”
“Not until he apologizes.” Like I’m gonna put myself out there just for him to tell me that I was overreacting and to get a fucking grip like he’d said that night. Argh! “Can you change the rooming situation at the hotel for the night of the Eclipse show? I don’t wanna be sharing a room with him right now.”
“Can’t, babe. It took all of my persuasion skills to get the rooms we have cuz the hotel was so booked up.”
Oh shit. “Then I’ll stay in your room.”
“Bring some earplugs then. I’m planning on having some fun while we’re there.”
Urgh. Great. Well, I guess beggars can’t be choosers. “Sure. Thanks.”
Chapter 36
~John~
I park my truck on the street outside my parents’ house. It’s better this way. If I park in the garage, I can’t make a quick escape.
Shit, this week is sucking big time. Nicki and I are in the middle of a stupid fight over what happened at the gig. I thought, if she had some time to calm down, she would come to her fucking senses and apologize to me. But she hasn’t. Stubborn-ass woman!
The only contact I’ve had with her over the last few days is a
brief text message exchange where I messaged her: If You Don’t Know Me By Now—Simply Red.
And she responded with: Every Rose Has Its Thorn—Poison. No apology. Just that icy message. Well, hell if I’m gonna be the one to sort this mess out and apologize. She’s the one in the wrong, the one who overreacted.
But I fucking miss her. That woman is my goddamn other half. Everything is wrong without her, without seeing her, talking to her. So empty and pointless. I need to see that cute look she gets when I do that thing to her hand that gets her turned on and shy at the same time—my thumb drawing slow circles on the back of it. It gets me every time.
And my dick hates me too. I want her back in my bed. It’s like a physical craving, or some shit. I want those soft fingers of hers running all over me; her mouth on me, wrapped around my dick. I wanna sink into her tight little pussy and see that look on her face when I make her come. So damn sexy. Just the thought of it is tempting me to give in. She’s beyond addictive. It’s taking all my self-control not to knock on her door and drop to my knees begging for her forgiveness. But I’m not gonna give in. I’m not some pussy who’s gonna take shit from any woman; not even her. She’s in the wrong here, not me. And she better figure that out soon.
On top of all of that is the call I got from my dad at the crack of dawn this morning. He’s called a meeting. Didn’t tell me what it’s about, so that’s got me majorly on edge. Lately, he’s come to accept my music and the band, but with this meeting now, I’m worried he’s going back on that and falling back into disapproving father mode. After all, that’s how we’ve always operated.
I brace myself as I walk in through the garage entrance. I don’t need to use my key as it’s already unlocked. Hmm…worrying. Not a fan of that. Great. It’s just making me more on edge.
“My office!” he calls out, his commanding voice echoing down the hall.
Shit, how does he know I’m here already? I glance down at my boots. It must be the sound of them squeaking on the hardwood floor.
I reach his office at the end of the hall, briefly wondering where my mom is—probably out shopping as usual—and push open the door.
He’s sitting behind his desk, leaning back casually in his massive brown leather chair. To my surprise, his face lights up as I shut the door behind me and walk on in. That’s a first. Every time we’ve met in his office in the past, all I’ve seen from him is a stern, disapproving glance. We only ever meet in here for one reason: to discuss serious matters.
“Dad,” I say with a head nod as I slump into one of the chairs opposite him. They’re high-backed, uncomfortable old wooden things. I’ve always thought they’re probably here on purpose to put his visitors even more on edge. A power play of some sort. God knows, my dad is a fan of that. He’s all about power. Fucking hotshot lawyer. But who am I to judge? I’ve got my own issues with that.
“Son,” he says with a smile.
A smile? Wasn’t expecting that. Every time we have one of these meetings it usually ends up with me getting my ass handed to me. Meetings. So fucking corporate. I’m his son for Christ’s sake. Why can’t it be a get together or something, instead of being so damn official?
“What’s up?” I ask, my eyes straying to the papers spread out on his desk in front of him. It only takes a second for me to realize what they are: my college transcripts. I tense immediately. Shit. Here we go. Get ready for the shit to hit the fan.
He follows my gaze and then his eyes dart to mine. “Your grades have improved.”
“Something we already discussed at dinner the other day.” A weak shot on my part, because I know he’s not gonna drop it. But anything’s worth a try.
“I can see that,” he says, glancing at the transcripts. “It’s brought your GPA up a little for the first time in the last couple of years. But it’s still at 3.2.”
“And 3.2 isn’t enough?” I respond, a noticeable edge in my voice.
“You’re a 4.0 student, John. At least you should be. I know what you’re capable of. You’re smart, son. Incredibly smart.”
“Dad—”
He cuts me off. No surprise there. “You know what that tells me?”
I fold my arms across my chest and steel myself. “What?” I grit out.
That unnerving smile of his is back as he says, “It tells me you don’t want to be there. Law isn’t for you. You have no passion for it. You’re just doing it to pacify me. It’s just a familial duty to you.”
Wow. Talk about hitting the nail right on the head. Where is he going with this?
He leans back in his chair and sighs. It’s a heavy, weary sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“For pushing you. I wanted you to have a career and following in my footsteps is the path to a very lucrative future, John. If you gave a damn about it, of course. But you don’t.”
I shake my head. “Dad, we’ve had this conversation a million fucking times. I can’t do it again, okay? What do you want from me? I’m doing what you want. My grades are up now. What more am I supposed to do to get your off my back?”
“Follow your own path.”
I jerk back like he’s just slapped me. “I—I don’t—what?”
“Like I mentioned at dinner the other day, I’ve been examining your music career. I was wrong. It’s not just a hobby. You’re building a business out of it. And I’ve looked into that show you’ve booked at Eclipse and I understand what it means to someone in your business. I had your mother explain it to me as well, seeing as though she used to be in the music world too.”
Okay? Whoa.
He leans forward across the desk, his eyes locking with mine. “So, this is what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna give you a year to focus solely on your music. And I’ll back you with whatever you need. I’ll put the same into it that I would into another year at college. But you continue working to finance your living expenses.”
“You’re telling me to drop out of college?” I ask, wondering if I’m dreaming here.
“That’s what I’m saying. Finish up this year and then you take a year out to explore this. We’ll reevaluate once the year is up. It’s what you really want to do, isn’t it?”
“You know it is.”
“Good. Then we have a deal?”
I shake my head. “I don’t need your money. I’m good.”
“John—”
“No. If I’m gonna do this, I do it on my own. As a man, Dad. You hear what I’m saying?”
Something flashes in his eyes then. I’m hesitant to believe it, but it looks like pride. Well, fuck me. He nods. “The backup’s here if you need it.”
“I appreciate it.”
I rub my eyes, trying to wrap my head around what’s happened here. I’ve finally just been relieved of these bullshit family obligations. I’m finally free to spread my fucking wings without judgment or threats. Wow, I feel like a massive weight has just been lifted off my shoulders. No more monkey on my back.
“Well, okay. So, we’re good here?” I ask, making a move to get out of my chair.
He stops me with, “How are you and Nicki doing?”
“Fine,” I fire back, instantly defensive. Dammit.
“What’s the problem?” he asks, seeing right through me.
I tug at my hair for a moment and blow out a breath of frustration. Just thinking about what’s going on with her and me aggravates me beyond belief. “It’s a lot of ridiculous drama.”
He laughs.
“I said drama not comedy, Dad.”
“Sorry. It’s just, I forget she’s your first actual girlfriend.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, if you don’t want the drama, you shouldn’t be in a relationship.”
“Come on, Dad.”
“I’m serious.”
“Well, she’s being ridiculous.” And then I can’t stop myself. I haven’t talked to anyone about this. No point talking to Mitch, cuz he’s more of a mess when it comes to relationshi
ps than I am. I end up letting it all out, telling my dad all about Nicki’s freak out at the sorority party about all the other girls coming onto me since word got around about Eclipse.
“I’m still waiting on her damn apology,” I tell him.
“You idiot,” he says, just barely holding in his laughter once again.
“What?” I snap. “She’s the one being—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he cuts in. “Relationships aren’t about being right. They’re about compromise. Knowing when to back down and let things go.”
“I didn’t even lay a hand on any of them. I told her I loved her for fuck’s sake and it’s still not enough for her? Shit. Does she want my blood or something?”
“You meant it?”
“Yeah, I meant it.”
“Good,” he says smiling happily. “Now, just show her. She’s obviously insecure about the girls. You need to show her there’s no need to be.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
“Not to her. Remember, she’s inexperienced. You need to be the bigger person here. The rational one. If you want to be with her. If you don’t then just force that apology from her and go your separate ways.”
Argh. Nice shot at reverse psychology. Although, I’m not stupid enough to fall for it, I still know he’s right.
“Swallow my pride?”
“Be a man,” he says.
“So, being a man means backing down when I’m in the right?”
“It means learning how to pick your battles.” He gets up and walks around his desk. I stand up to meet him and he slaps his hand to my shoulder. “You want to keep a gem like Nicki? You want the long haul, son? Then you’ve got to learn to let go of the little things, that immature part of you that always has to be right, that always has to win. And let go of the power struggle. That kind of thing is a death sentence to any relationship. Sorry, but you get that megalomaniac trait from me. But I never bring it around your mother, never into our marriage.”
Dammit. That’s gonna be easier said than done. It’s ingrained in me. I grunt a response.
“And, remember, words don’t mean as much to women as actions do. You understand me?”
