Wicked Innocence

by Missy Johnson

  She was only twenty-one, but my first impression was that she was mature. She had a good head on her shoulders, which made getting her performance ready a hell of a lot easier.

  I fell into my bed, the dog curling up next to me. He certainly wasn’t shy when it came to making himself comfortable. He especially liked to lie right in the middle of the damn bed, and being the weak shit I was, I let him.

  Rolling over, I yanked the blankets, earning myself a scowl from Broosky.

  “What? You’ve got most of the bed. Give me something, dude.”

  Sighing, I pushed my pillow under my neck and closed my eyes, “Still Surrender” playing over and over in my mind.

  Why couldn’t I get that damn song out of my head?

  Chapter Six

  Micah

  It was nine a.m. Saturday morning. I’d never spent so long standing in front of the mirror before. My usual routine consisted of a brush through my hair, a little mascara, and I was ready. But I wanted to impress him. I wanted him to look at me the same way he had the night before.

  You’re playing with fire, Micah.

  I knew it was a bad idea, but I couldn’t help it. He had to be twenty-five now. He was at least seven years older than me, and way more experienced—not to mention the fact that he was my manager—but I was so damn attracted to him it was ridiculous.

  Finally settling on a pair of skinny jeans, my boots, and a green sweater, I cinched a belt around my waist and grabbed my bag. Outside, I climbed into my car and plugged his address into my GPS.

  ***

  When I pulled up outside his house and turned off the ignition, my heart was racing as I looked around. Was I the first one there? A shiver ran down my spine as I grabbed my bag and got out of the car.

  Taking a deep breath, I headed up the cobblestoned path that led to the front door. Honestly, the house was nice, but I’d been expecting something much flashier. It was a nice house on a nice street, but that was it.

  It didn’t exactly scream ‘ex bad boy of rock.’

  I reached the front door, feeling sick. Why am I doing this again?

  The door flew open before I could even knock. Sax stood there looking damn sexy in a pair of jeans and a faded black Beatles tee shirt. His face lit up as he served me one of his signature sexy smiles.

  “Micah. Hey. I didn’t hear the doorbell ring.”

  “Because I didn’t have time to ring it,” I said with a grin.

  He chuckled and I relaxed a little.

  “Come in,” he said, waving his hand.

  I followed him down the hallway and into the kitchen.

  “I was just heading out to get some drinks, but I’ll have one of the guys pick some up,” he murmured. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone, tapping out a message. So I am the first one here . . . the only one here. I glanced at my watch. I wasn’t exactly early.

  “The guys aren’t great at being on time,” he explained, reading my mind. His blue eyes twinkled, making my heart race. “If you head out back you’ll see the studio on your left.”

  “Great,” I said. I smiled awkwardly, not sure if he was coming with me or staying inside to wait for the guys. When he didn’t move, I wandered through the living room alone.

  I glanced around. His décor of soft gray and neutral tones worked really well in the large, open space. His furniture was modern and classy, and there wasn’t much out of place.

  This is not how I expected Saxon Waite to live.

  Opening the sliding door, I squeezed through it and onto the back deck. Out of nowhere, a huge black and gray dog came bounding up to me, literally knocking me off my feet. I landed squarely on my backside and laughed as he stood over me, tail wagging, licking excitedly at my face.

  “Broosky, no. Down buddy.” Saxon stood over me, reaching out to me while he tried to restrain Broosky with his other hand.

  I laughed and got to my feet. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?” I cooed, tickling the dog behind the ears. He danced around the deck with such excitement I couldn’t help but smile.

  “He’s still getting used to how he should behave around people, aren’t you buddy? Though I’ve never seen him this excited,” Saxon added, his lips twitching.

  “What can I say? Oversized, scruffy dogs can’t resist me,” I teased, putting my hand out as Broosky came rushing in for another pat.

  “I bet,” he murmured. He crouched down and put his arm around the dog. “I’ll hold onto him while you go through the gate,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I smiled. I slipped through the gate and walked down the steps that led into his yard.

  ***

  The studio was amazing, equipped with all the latest sound gear and even a soundproof recording booth. This was more like what I was expecting. I wandered around the room, checking out the framed photos of Sax from his days with Savaged. There were awards and records—hell, there was even a Grammy sitting behind a glassed-in display shelf. I shook my head, knowing I could only dream of half this shit happening to me.

  “The guys will be here any minute.”

  I turned around and saw Sax holding two cans of soda.

  “Cola or lemonade? The last two cans in the fridge,” he said, embarrassed.

  “Lemonade would be good.”

  He threw me the can, popping the top on his own.

  “Your setup here is amazing.”

  “Thanks.” He sat down on the arm of an oversized black sofa in the middle of the room. Two matching armchairs sat on either side.

  I walked over and sat down in the one furthest from him.

  “Even when I gave up the band, music was still such a big part of my life. You can’t switch off that kind of obsession.”

  I laughed. Didn’t I know it?

  The studio door opened and the rest of the guys bounded in, collapsing onto the remaining seats, deep in conversation—or rather, in the middle of an argument.

  “Dude, no fucking way. I don’t care what you say. Fucking your clone is masturbation. It’s basically fucking yourself,” Harry said.

  I giggled. That sounded like something Dee would say. Speaking of which, I hadn’t heard from her since last night. I made a mental note to call her after practice.

  “I’m sorry, but if there is another penis involved, it’s gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” He shrugged. “But it is what it is.” Liam shrugged.

  Harry turned to me. “Will you please settle this for us?”

  I paused, as if I was deep in thought. “I agree with Harry: that it is a form of masturbation.”

  “See?” Harry exclaimed triumphantly. “Now can we get on with this damn rehearsal? I have something going on later,” he winked at Sax, “with that blonde from last night.”

  “You fucking idiot,” Sax growled. “Don’t come crying to me when her boyfriend punches your face in.”

  Harry rolled his eyes. “Seriously dude, you need to chill. Maybe you need to get laid. When was the last time you were with someone, anyway?”

  “Harry—”

  “No, I’m sick of it. Keep out of my business, okay? You fucked up your own life, so why should I listen to anything you tell me? The only reason you’re even here is my fucking father got you this gig.” He grabbed his jacket and shook his head. “Fuck this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Harry, stop being a dick,” Liam yelled, but he had already stormed out of the studio.

  I sat there awkwardly, playing with my hands. This is going well.

  “Fuck,” Sax growled. He kicked a wooden chair, sending it flying across the room.

  I winced.

  “You guys might as well go too. I’ll go through everything with Micah myself.”

  A tingle shot down my spine. Just Sax and me?

  “Sure Sax, you get her up to speed,” Liam laughed, slapping him on the back. Their laughter continued until they were out the door.

  “Sorry about that. Harry and I…we have some issues,” he finished, arms rai
sed above his head, running his hands through his hair.

  “I noticed. I wouldn’t have picked you for cousins,” I commented, trying to fill the silence. Or, more to the point, trying to distract myself from staring at those strong, sexy biceps, straining the material of his tee shirt almost beyond its limits...

  “Yeah. We were even less alike when we were kids. We didn’t exactly run with the same crowd.” He sank down next to me and reached for his drink.

  “You were too cool for your little cousin?” I teased.

  He laughed. “Other way around, actually.”

  “No way,” I snorted, covering my mouth with my hand. “Harry was cool?”

  “You find that shocking, but not the part about me not being cool?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. He got up and walked over to the bookshelf that sat behind the table. “Show this to anyone and I’ll have you killed,” he warned, throwing a yearbook my way. “Go to page fifty-three.”

  I flipped it open. My eyes widened as I spotted Sax immediately out of a group of boys. His beautiful eyes were hidden behind thick-framed glasses, and his hair was slicked forward. I glanced down at the bottom for the date. He was sixteen in this photo. Wow!

  “How did you get started with the band?” I asked, my brow creasing as I continued to study the picture.

  He chuckled. “I used to perform on the street or in the park every weekend. A major talent scout for EML records spotted me. He knew of a band that was forming, and with a bit of a makeover, I found myself part of a band that was soaring up the charts.”

  He handed me a few more photos. He was slightly older in these, but still so young. About my age . . . My true age. One photo was of him and Harry.

  “Were you close when you were kids?” I asked. They didn’t seem that close now—though I’d had a whole two days to come to that conclusion, but their competitiveness was obvious.

  “Not really.” He shrugged. “We were both so into music that you’d think having that common ground would’ve made us friends. But it was the opposite. We were competitive with everything, and when I got the recording deal, things got worse.”

  I handed the photo back to him. My eyes met his as his fingers brushed past mine. I jerked my hand away and focused on the album sitting on my lap. What the hell was that? Did he feel it too?

  “So, Micah, how long have you been singing for?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Since forever. My dad was a drummer in a band way back when. We used to jam together when I was little,” I joked.

  “Cute,” he said with a grin. “Are you guys still close?”

  “He died in a car accident when I was young. No, it’s fine, I can talk about it,” I tried to reassure him, when his face fell, “it was so long ago that I don’t really remember much about him.”

  “I’m sorry. It still sucks, though. I’ve lost people close to me before, though nothing like you’ve been through. You move on, but you never forget.”

  “No,” I mumbled softly. I knew that better than he realized.

  “Any brothers or sisters?” he asked brightly.

  I smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood. “I had a brother. He died a few years ago.”

  “Fuck. This is going well.” He rubbed his forehead with his fingers before wincing at me. “Maybe this will go easier if you tell me what we can talk about and what we can’t. All I seem to be doing is digging myself a deeper hole.”

  I laughed. “It’s fine, honestly. Steer clear of anything involving families, and we’re good.”

  “I can do that,” he said, huffing out a relieved breath.

  He pressed his hands against his thighs, and my eyes fell on his long, slender fingers. My skin prickled as I imagined those hands running gently over the curve of my bare back kissing his was down my neck, then my shoulder, and then my…

  “Micah?”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I mumbled, jolted from my wayward erotic daydream. I must have blushed three shades of pink, the way he was eyeing me. It was like he could read the dirty thoughts going on in my head.

  “We’ll start with ‘Meeting Sorrow.’ That’s probably the hardest one to get the timing right with. Listen to me run through it, and then we’ll go through it together.”

  He reached behind him and retrieved his guitar that had been resting against the back of the sofa. I sat back and watched as his fingers began to strum the strings of his Fender. His voice was beautiful: deep and husky. I could’ve sat there listening to him sing all night. And the way he worked that guitar was pure magic.

  We sat there for the next few hours, taking turns singing each song. The way he looked at me when I sang made me feel incredible. He smiled as I hit the final note, his eyes studying me intently.

  “I guess that’s enough for today. I can’t keep you here all night.”

  Oh God, yes you can.

  Blushing, I stood up, smoothing out my sweater. “Thanks for this. I feel a lot more confident about everything now,” I admitted.

  “You have nothing to worry about. Your voice is amazing. It’s impossible not to listen when you sing.”

  My heart swelled. He loved my voice. I felt giddy as he walked me out to my car. He smirked at me as I fumbled with my keys. Damn my shaking hands.

  “Next rehearsal is Tuesday. I’ll see you then, Micah.”

  The previous few hours played over and over in my mind all the way home.

  I’d just spent half my afternoon singing with Saxon Waite. This was like a dream. Anxiety filled my stomach. My natural instinct was to be wary of positive things happening to me, because all too often, the good things in my life fell apart.

  This time will be different. It has to be.

  I’d worked so hard for this. I refused to let anything stand in my way.

  Chapter Seven

  Micah

  I woke early Monday morning, and the first thing I did was call the diner and resign. Marlon was annoyed at my lack of notice, but with the band going on tour there wasn’t much I could do about it.

  Hanging up, I called Dee to arrange to meet her for coffee. We still hadn’t caught up since she’d deserted me at the bar on Friday night. Not that I was still annoyed…well, not much, anyway.

  We had a regular spot where we liked to meet at least every couple of weeks. It was inside one of the fancier hotels in Hollywood. When you spent all day working at a diner, it was nice to experience something with a little more class. The Sheridan fit that bill perfectly.

  I pushed my way through the revolving door that led into the lobby of the hotel. No matter how many times I came here, the place took my breath away. With its high ceilings, chandeliers, and rare artwork hanging on the walls, it was everything I wasn’t: classy, elegant, and decadent. Still, no matter how out of place I felt, it was nice to dream every now and then.

  Dee was sitting in our usual spot by the window. She waved when she saw me.

  “Hey,” she grinned, combing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I’ve ordered already.”

  I nodded. We always got the same: a high tea, complete with tiny cakes and sandwiches, all placed delicately on a tall serving platter. It was very un-American, which was what we loved about it.

  I sat down, smoothing out my cream-colored sweater, and reached for my glass of water.

  “So, what happened to you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  “I’m sorry, M. There was this guy and we got talking…” She smiled and I rolled my eyes. “He was really nice, and we ended up back at his place. I’ll pay you back the cab fare,” she added, reaching for her purse.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I grumbled, blushing.

  “Why not…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me, Micah?”

  “I don’t even know where to start. I got the job.” I put up my hand to hush her celebrations. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

  “It gets better than that?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  I gig
gled. “It does when your new manager is Saxon Waite.”

  “No way. You’re kidding. You’re joking, aren’t you? Is this some kind of weird payback for leaving you stranded? Am I being Punk'd?” she accused glancing around for signs of a camera crew and Ashton. We were in LA after all.

  If I knew how to make that happen, it was so the kind of thing I would do to her, especially after ditching me after my first public performance.

  I laughed as she reached across the table and grabbed my hand. If her eyes get any wider they’ll pop out of her head.

  “Oh my God, Micah. Saxon Waite? Holy crap! What did you say to him? How did he look? Is he still sexy as hell? I can’t believe this,” she muttered, shaking her head.

  My phone beeped. I reached into my pocket and glanced at it. I bit my lip and smiled.

  “What?” she demanded, leaning forward anxiously in her chair. I held up my phone to her and showed her the message from Sax.

  Hey Micah. If you’re free, could you come over today? You know where I live.

  “No!” she gasped.

  I burst into laughter, nodding in amusement. Her reaction was pure gold. I couldn’t have scripted it better.

  “I’m so fucking jealous. You’ve been to his house?”

  “We rehearse there,” I giggled.

  “You’ll be there all the time then,” she said with a dreamy sigh. “God, I’m so freaking jealous. I wish it was me.”

  I laughed again. “I’ve heard you sing. You sound like a dying cat.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she grumbled, throwing a dirty look at me.

  “So tell me about this guy you went home with,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Will you be seeing him again?”

  “No,” snorted Dee, reaching for a miniature chocolate cupcake. “Let’s just say his performance was less than adequate.” I giggled and she shrugged. “Life’s too short for bad sex. Am I right? Speaking of sex, can you imagine what Saxon Waite would be like under the covers?” She sighed dreamily.

  “Stop!” I ordered her, covering my ears. “I cannot think about him like that. Music first. Music always comes first. Besides, he’s so much older than me and not interested in the slightest.”