Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4

by Sasha Marshall

  I look at Koi. “Help?”

  He looks through the cupboards and finally finds a bottle of Advil I hadn’t had the patience to find. He pulls out his phone and speaks into it. “We need the Escalade. Henley needs coffee and food before she kills Kip. Or before I kill Kip. Then we need a grocery store.” He hangs up and smoothes my hair down.

  I throw my arms around him and whisper. “My hero.”

  They all chuckle, and I jerk my head out of my hug to give Kip the evil eye. He immediately stops laughing and begins to look around whistling a silent little whistle instead.

  I jump in and out of the shower quickly so the guys can also have a turn. I take over the back room of the bus. Some bands use it as a master bedroom. This bus has another common room with sofas and every electronic known to man. I use a mirror in the small closet of the room to do my hair and makeup. Once I dry my hair, a knock came at the door.

  “I’m dressed.” I announce.

  Jag enters with a pack of my cigarettes and a soda.

  “It’s not coffee or food, but I figure it might help,” he smiles.

  I haven’t forgotten about last night, but I need to put it past me. I grab the smokes and soda, utter a thanks, and take a swig. This is definitely better than the dry mouth I’ve been sporting all morning. I light a cigarette and inhale deeply. I close my eyes and enjoy that first drag and then exhale slowly. When I open my eyes, Jag’s are on me. He looks bothered. I ignore it and start working on my makeup.

  “What the fuck Hen?” His question has my head spinning around to him. He touches my jaw line. “Did this happened last night?” I take a closer look in the mirror. A bruise is beginning to appear on my jaw line. It must’ve happened last night, and I say as much to him. He looks pissed, and mumbles something about a motherfucker and exits the room in a fit. Men are so dramatic sometimes.

  When I emerge from the back, the guys are itching to go. We quickly exit the bus, and then I remember we are in Jacksonville. The Florida sun and heat are brutal. I turn to the guys to ask for two minutes to change. I quickly grab my sunglasses, and change out of my jeans into a short denim skirt, and a pastel green tube top. I throw my aviators on and meet the band, which are loaded up and ready to go. Randy sits in the front passenger seat while their head security guy John drives. I sit on the second row seat between Jag and Koi. Another Escalade will follow behind us for further security.

  We find an IHOP close by, where I drink a pot of coffee and devour pancakes and bacon. Next we find the closest grocery store, and I stock up on food and other necessities. Whatever I want, I buy two of since the guys will eat most of it. I buy things to make sandwiches and dinner. I also buy an ass load of coffee, sugar, and breakfast food. Once we finish shopping, we find our way back to the tour bus where we unpack groceries. Since the bus is parked in the lot of the hotel the band is staying in, we grab our things and head to our rooms. I decide to take the extra room Koi has in his suite instead of getting my own room. Randy who normally bunks with him, stays in Jag’s suite. I immediately find the bed and take a nap. Hangovers get worse each year I get older.

  I wake up and immediately notice it is dark outside so I reach for my phone. It is 8:00. Shit! I slept the day away. I find a note taped to the lamp.

  We are headed to the beach for a bit. Didn't want to wake you. Hope you enjoy your rest. Call me if you need anything. See you this evening for dinner. Love you, Koi.

  It sucks I missed out on the beach, but I wouldn’t have had much fun in the sun being hung over. I’m glad the guys got some downtime though. Touring can be rough.

  I shower again and redo my hair and makeup for dinner. I throw on a black halter top dress, and some silver wedges. I put a few pieces of jewelry on to complete my look. I decide at the last minute to put my hair up since it is so humid outside. I twist the tops into two sections and then the back into another. I really love the whole 30’s look in my hair. I suppose I will sit on the balcony, smoke a cigarette, and read a book while I wait on the guys to return. As I take the first drag off my cigarette, the front door opens to our suite.

  Kip is already calling for me. “Henley, darling. Honey I’m home.”

  I can’t help smiling, because Kip is pure entertainment. I stand inside the balcony doorway and give a little whistle so they know my location. When I spot what Kip holds in his hand, I zero in on the Starbucks cup like a tomcat would a pussy in heat. Kip notices immediately.

  “Oh pumpkin, I brought you a skinny cinnamon dolce latte. Come give daddy a kiss,” Kip teases.

  “A kiss?” I ask. I immediately know we are going to war over that precious cup in his hand.

  “Well if you aren’t willing to give me a kiss, what are you willing to give for my sincere hospitality and thoughtfulness?” He asks wiggling his eyebrows.

  I think about it for a beat. I have to speak in Kip language here. “Well, muffin, since my heart is so unavailable to you, due to my still sowing my wild oats and all, why don’t I be your wingman tonight? You know I can bring in hot ass.”

  Kip thinks about it for a minute, and even rubs his chin to feign his deep thought. “Define hot.”

  “Well, since I know you so well, as I should the love of my life, hot to you my stud muffin, would be leggy, fake breasts, nice ass, skinny waist, and blonde,” I say with a coy smile on my face.

  “Blonde would feel too much like cheating on you now that everyone knows about our relationship. I should really stick with brunettes so I don’t hurt your feelings,” he says.

  “Deal, now give me the fucking coffee before it gets cold,” I order, and he complies.

  The men are famished so we find a local steakhouse for dinner. Jagger and I sit in the third row seat of the Escalade, and he throws his arm over the back of the seat. Ten minutes into our trip, he rubs light circles on the top of my shoulder. I pretend not to notice since this will only end badly for me. The more I pretend not to notice, the more the lower bits of me sit up and take notice. I’m so glad I don’t have a penis, otherwise, I would be sporting a hard on the size of Europe. Conversation around us flows freely, but I abstain from involvement because words may not be coherently strung together.

  I lean forward and make up something to say to Koi who is sitting directly in front of me, so Jag’s happy little thumb will quit rubbing circles of fire in my shoulder. It works, but when I lean back because the conversation comes to a natural end between my brother and I, Jag places his hand at the crook of my neck. Shit. Not the neck, anywhere but my neck.

  “You’re all tight and bound up,” Jagger whispers incredibly close to my ear.

  Oh you have no idea, Skippy. “It must be the whiskey from last night,” I say without making eye contact.

  “Relax Hen,” he whispers.

  Yeah right. You relax while I stroke your dick. Let’s see how that works out for you, hoss.

  At dinner, he plants his ass in a seat right beside me. Oh sex gods, you are fucking with me. Ha! I shake my finger at them in my head. After we order drinks and food, he leans back in his chair and that damn naughty little thumb of his starts up again. I look around the table to see if anyone notices the up and down motion he has begun making in the middle of my back. I’m almost positive beads of sweat are forming on my forehead. My breathing is labored, and I’m fanning myself, but no one notices. I lightly touch my forehead and the sweat is not there. I check my breathing and there is no need to slow it down from its already even pace. My hands are tucked in my lap like the little southern lady I am. My brain is playing tricks on me.

  I make it through dinner without spontaneously combusting, or having an orgasm, which is a real feat so I do a mental pat on the back. Good girl. After dinner, we head to a local club. It’s Thursday, so its college night, which means lots of college kids in a beach town. The place is packed when we arrived at 11. Jag offers me his hand when I exit the car, so I take it and remind myself not to place it between my legs. Public humiliation an
d all. When I emerge from the vehicle, he takes my hand and tucks it in his arm as we enter the club. Girls waiting to get in the club instantly take notice of the guys. Shit. Their security team has already flanked us. Koi, Kip, and Cam stop for autographs, but Jag keeps walking with my hand laced through his arm. His muscles feel fabulous. I bet he could pick my little ass up and throw me around a room for hours. Focus grasshopper. He leads me into the club in front of the waiting line, and I hear my name murmured as a question just as the door closes. Shit.

  “Shouldn’t you sign some stuff for your fans?” I ask him.

  “No. I’m here with you tonight.” He says eyes straight ahead.

  Here with me? I just had a bunch of naughty thoughts. Ok, ok, ok, you’re right I had more naughty thoughts. I should lay off the liquor tonight. I’m two things when I’m drinking liquor, honest and horny. Those two things don’t mix with Jag. I let Jag lead me to a roped off area. The guys must have called and notified the owners in advance of their arrival. Jacksonville isn’t like L.A. There aren’t VIP sections in every club. Jag deposits me in a booth, and slides in next to me. He turns to face me, and plays with my long bangs I left loose when I pulled my hair up.

  “You look so beautiful tonight. I love when you wear your hair like this.” His eyes sear straight through me.

  I will have to wear my hair like this more often. Wait, did he say love? Mmmm.

  “Thank you,” I manage to say.

  Luckily, our server emerges, and she is eyeing Jag like he is a full course meal. I want to slap the bitch. Ok, hold up girl, he isn’t yours. I get that, but he could be with me, right? We are sitting here alone, and she should take that into account before she starts eye fucking her customers. Just saying. Jag orders us beers and whiskey. The other guys appear behind her, and she eye fucks them too. Good, she is an equal opportunity eye fucker. They put in their drink orders as well and make their way to the edge of the roped off section to check out the club clientele. Let me rephrase that, they are looking for the hottest bed warmer in the building. Shit, I don’t want to listen to my brother fuck a chick. Gag. I may have to get my own room tonight.

  The server brings our drinks back, and Jag raises his glass to ours for a toast.

  “To Henley. Please don’t have sex with Kip.”

  We all fall in a fit of laughter, but Kip frowns and flips Jag the bird, but smiles his best panty-dropping smile at me right before he tosses back his shot. Jag asks for another round before the waitress has a chance to sashay off. Bitch.

  Kip announces the time has come. “Ok, wing woman, it is that time. I fed your coffee addiction, and now…… Wow, I’m an enabler! That’s kinda cool!”

  Have I mentioned he has the attention span of a five-year-old child?

  “Focus grasshopper,” I say.

  He snaps out of it and smiles. “I need my brunette now. I need to be able to look at what the sea has to offer tonight. I also need enough time to get her hammered enough so she will bring a friend back to my hotel room, and I can show them how impressive my erection is. So, two brunettes? I still can’t make love to a blonde, Hen. It just brings back all those memories of our love.”

  Jag chuckles beside me.

  “Ok, let’s hit the dance floor.” I pull out a menthol, and Jag offers me a light. I smile at him, grab my beer, and he lets me out of the booth. Two bodyguards follow us to the dance floor. I have to give it to them; they are really good at being inconspicuous. We find a place in the middle of the dance floor. Mike Will’s “23” blares out over the speakers, and I dance my ass all over Kip while he grinds all over my ass. I haven’t danced in years, but it is a lot like riding a bicycle… or having sex. And I haven’t forgotten how to do either one of those. After the first song, I begin my wingman job.

  It may sound counterproductive for me to grind all over Kip in an attempt to get him laid by someone else, or in this case 2 someone else’s. The human brain is a funny thing though. When a woman sees a man as attractive as Kip dancing with another attractive woman, she wonders if she can get a piece of that for just one night. Jealousy is a hell of an emotion, and it makes us do strange things. I instantly look for brunettes and see one off to my left. She is undressing Kip with her eyes. I start to dance us over in that direction. Once we are in her vicinity, I whisper in Kip’s ear what my plan is. I then give him the cue, and he bows to me in the overdramatic way that only Kip can. I leave the floor so he can make his move on her, but she will do all the work. Bitches be catty. I’ve said that before, right? The brunette will want to make him forget all about his previous dance partner, and she will work hard in doing so. The more attractive another woman is, the harder a chick is willing to show a man how good her own assets are.

  I make my way to the ladies room and relieve myself. I wash my hands and check my hair and makeup in the mirror. The mirror is crowded with girls. Several of them are staring.

  “Is it really you?” a cute blonde asks.

  I smile, wink, and place my finger to my lips to ask for their silence. They giggle like school girls, and I giggle back. Cute blonde asks for my autograph and a picture, so I oblige. I forgot how much fun meeting new people can be.

  “Are you here with Jagger Carlyle? I thought I saw you two walk in together. I’m sorry to say this but he is so hot!”

  I look around to make sure phones are not recording me. Once I have made sure that isn’t an issue, I give them what they want.

  “No, we aren’t together; we’ve been friends for a very long time. And yes, he is very hot. Man gorgeous!”

  They giggle again. I wave good-bye, and when I open the door, I see the very same Jagger Carlyle waiting for me. God he really is gorgeous.

  “You shouldn’t go off by yourself Henley,” he growls at me.

  Keep growling daddy and see what happens when I lay it on a man. Shit, sorry, the sex gods are fucking with me again. I’m sure they have joined forces with the lush gods who are using the alcohol in my body to make me think very naught thoughts. Very!

  “Did you just growl at me Mr. Carlyle?” I give him my best Scarlett O’Hara voice.

  He steps closer to my face, and I look up into his crystal blue eyes.

  “Ms. Hendrix, it really isn’t safe for a woman of your stature to go out into the big world all by herself. I shudder at the thought of the things that can happen to you out here whilst you roam around all on your lonesome,” he says in his best Rhett voice, and I giggle. “I love that sound.”

  There he goes with that damn love word again. He cups my face in his hand, and an involuntary shiver runs down my body. I pull my eyes from his when I hear girls giggling behind me. I turn and wink at them. They giggle again.

  Still in his Rhett persona, “May I ask dear woman what all that nonsense is about?”

  “You have fans my dear.” I kiss him on his cheek, turn on my heel, and leave him to follow me.

  I return to the table Koi and Cam are drinking at. I slide into the booth, but Jag doesn’t follow. He finds a table in the corner of the small VIP section and opts to watch me. I know he is watching me, I can feel his gaze burning a hole in my body. Speak of holes in my body… damn you sex gods! I shoot another whiskey shot and light a cigarette. I’m buzzing from the whiskey and start to care a little less that Jag is staring at me. I visually search the dance floor and finally find Kip. He is living it up with the brunette I left him with. The man really makes me laugh. He has since we were kids.

  Koi leaves the table in hot pursuit of something he found interest in. Cam sits and talks to me for a while. Cam is the quiet one of the crowd, and he has a heart of gold. Cam nervously brings up Caleb, but I quickly put him to ease. I didn’t talk about my best friend for so long after his death, I find it refreshing that people miss him as much as I do. Cam and I are lost in conversation about the first time Caleb and I smoked pot. We got so incredibly high that we hid in the woods for hours so our parents wouldn’t know. When my grandfather fi
nally found us, the man in black himself was tagging along.

  Johnny Cash simply looked to my grandfather and said, “These two have been smoking that wacky backy.” He found absolute hilarity in our state. We, on the other hand, did not. Paranoia doesn’t even begin to describe what we were going through.

  At fourteen years old, I realized two very important things. One, my grandfather wasn’t a rat. He never told our parents we were high as hell. Two, the man had smoked far more than his fair share of reefer. I couldn’t wrap my head around the latter for many years. My grandfather could do no wrong in my mind and facing the fact that he was known to toke on a fatty didn’t sit well with me. How did I discover the man smoked? His grand idea for sobering the two of us up, and helping calm down the paranoia, was to sit Caleb and me in his studio and identify Johnny Cash songs by the first chords. They kept a tally of who identified the song quickest. It helped to squelch the paranoia, but I watched my grandfather roll up previously referenced fatty, and smoke with Cash. Those two had entirely too much fun teaching us the unwritten rules of pot smoking. We were too scared to comment since we had already been caught fucked up as a soup sandwich. If I ever write a memoir, this story will be included since our friends love to hear it over and over again. Cam is currently laughing his ass off as we reminisce.

  A few shots later, I brave looking at Jag as he stares at me ruthlessly in the corner. He drinks his beer and smokes on his pack of cigarettes. I ruthlessly try to ignore him. Try, being the key word here. Kip returns to the table with the brunette and introduces her as Rebecca. She sits and Kip pours shots down her throat. She seems nervous at first, being surrounded by rock stars and all. I try to ease her mind by asking her questions about herself. It seems to work, and she answers them. She is in nursing school. She seems really intelligent, which is a definite plus for her, but not so much for my friend. Kip may want to pour some more shots down her throat. Cam leaves to find some nighttime action when Koi returns with a girl. She is absolutely stunning. He introduces her as Carrie and gets her set up with shots as well. Jag continues to stare in the corner. I continue to smoke and drink, and the sex gods continue to fuck with me.