by Kacey Shea
My temper flares. “What exactly is that supposed to mean? You think because I’m a woman I can’t help?”
He laughs, a boisterous sound that pulls gazes from all around. “No, shorty, it’s because you’re not eighty pounds soaking wet.”
My hands go to my hips and I jut out my chin. “I’ll have you know I weigh one hundred and four. And that’s before eating breakfast.”
“I have stacks that weigh more than that.” He offers a smirk. “Go claim a good bunk in Big Betty, third bus, before they’re all spoken for. Lay your guitars on the one you want and no one will take it.”
“Thank you.” I realize I’m quick to go on the defensive, especially when it comes to being a woman in a man’s world. Maybe if I played a little softer, sang more about love, then I’d be around more female singers. But I’m rock to the core, and there are only a few of us in this zone filled with dicks. If I wear a chip on my shoulder, it’s because life put it there.
“Welcome to the tour, Miss Marx. We’re glad you’re here,” Jax calls out after I turn and take a few steps towards the bus.
I hike the straps of my guitar cases onto my shoulder and turn around, walking backward, and find his lips pulled up in that crooked grin. “Oh, I’m sure you are!” I say with a roll of my eyes and then turn forward before I fall flat on my face. Jax’s booming laughter follows me and I decide I like that guy. His teasing is like that of a good friend and not at all condescending.
Trent’s larger than life sexy smolder follows me from where he’s painted on the first bus. If I were a few years younger, I’d probably give in to the urge to find a sharpie and draw a giant zit on his perfectly squared chin. I’m so caught in my daydream that I practically run into the real life version as he comes around the back of the bus.
“Whoa! Oh, hey . . .” Trent’s smile quirks up when I meet his stare. “Lexi.”
The way he says my name, all smooth and sexy, pisses me off. Lifting my chin to give him my most intimidating glare so he won’t get any ideas, I catch a glimpse of something on his chin. My eyebrows pull together and I step closer. “Got something on your face, rock star.”
“Huh?” He says and brushes a hand over his cheeks.
“Right here.” I tap my own chin.
He nods and then makes a show of sticking his tongue out as far as it will go, running it along his lower lip and down to the spot on his chin to lick. His tongue is freakishly long and it’s unbelievable he’s able reach that far on his own face. His cocky smirk tells me he’s aware of that exact talent.
“Wing sauce.” He lets loose a throaty chuckle. “Spicy. Just the way I like it.” He raises his brow.
I roll my eyes but I’m not sure he sees with my glasses blocking the view. Sean and Austin follow him around the corner, eyes hard and glaring, talking low enough I can’t decipher their words. They stop when they notice me.
Austin’s lips pinch tighter as his gaze bounces back and forth between me and Trent. “Bragging already? Remember our deal,” he bites out before brushing by and stomping until he disappears inside the bus.
“Sore loser.” Sean shakes his head before he meets my gaze. “Hey, Lexi. You sure you ready for this?” His warm smile is welcoming.
“I was born for this.” I smile back.
“Good.” He glances to the side, nodding at his friend. “So, what were you two chatting about before we interrupted?”
“All the cool party tricks I can do with my tongue.” Trent grins.
“Yeah, and I was just sharing with Trent that ancient Egyptians would amputate a person’s tongue for treason.” I glare at Trent, my eyes drawn to where his Adam’s apple bobs at his throat. “So maybe you should watch what you say.” My gaze lifts to hold his stare. Most men would back off now, play it cool and avoid me, but Trent only lifts his lips in a smile, his brow rising in a silent challenge as if to say, That’s all you got?
Sean’s laughter cuts through the tension that swirls between us.
“I gotta run,” I say and point to my bus. “I was told all the good beds get taken quickly in my ride.
“Well, if you need a bed, Trent’s got the big one on our bus. He wouldn’t mind sharing, would you, T?”
“Fuck you.” Trent laughs and shoves Sean before giving me a wink.
Oh, hell. I shake my head and stomp past them both. “Later, ugly boys,” I mutter loud enough they can hear. Their ensuing laughter fades at my back as I hoof it to Big Betty. By the time I get there every bed is already reserved by a bag or personal item, the most interesting being a bag of weed. There’s one bed left and I groan because I already know it’s the worst. The top bunk closest to the bathroom. Great. My little chat with Trent cost me more than the fifteen minutes of my life I’ll never get back. Now I’m stuck with a spot I can barely reach thanks to my vertically challenged body, and I get to spend my nights listening to the bathroom break stylings of a bus full of men.
I offer up a silent thanks to Amie for her gift of noise silencing headphones. I’m afraid it’s the only way I’ll survive this tour. Maybe I should consider carrying them around to avoid further conversations with Trent and his snake of a tongue. Remembering its length and the way he licked his own face sends a shiver down my back. Ugh. Even my own body is a traitor to that wicked appendage. Too bad it’s attached to such an arrogant mouth.
7
Trent
The first drive of the tour goes off without any hitches. We complete the eighteen hour trip to Seattle in the early morning, and there’s a palpable energy that comes with being on the road again. A feeling I didn’t realize I’d missed until we were here again. I can’t wait to get onstage in a few hours. After practicing in our LA basement for the past couple months, this packed arena of screaming fans is a sweet reward.
I’m also ready for the ladies. Groupies. They get a bad rap, maybe because they’ll do almost anything for a few minutes of time and attention. But I like to focus on the positives. Like from the second I walk into the room, they know everything about me. There’s no breath wasted on introductions, exchanges of useless information such as where I grew up or what I like to do in my free time. All of that has been published in Rolling Stone and a bazillion gossip rag articles. Any of the women who follow us and have done their research will know all they need to know. These are the ones who make it backstage, begging and bribing their way through security. They come prepared and it only leaves more time for what’s most important . . . exploring a more basic element: attraction and desire.
Lexi’s steel toed boots laced up over those goddamn fishnet stockings flash before my mind and I have to shake my head. No. She’s off limits. Besides, even though she’s fucking hot, she wants nothing to do with me. I can sense her impulse to flee or kick me in the balls every time we meet. I’m not a masochist but I can’t help but want to find and push her buttons so she’ll lash out. Even I can admit that’s fucked up.
Doesn’t make it any less fun.
“T, have you seen Bedo?” Austin plops down next to me on the green room couch.
“No, not yet.”
He stretches out his long legs, pulls at the black jean material, and then checks his cell. “He should be here, right? He always makes the first show.” He’s a little superstitious, though he’d never admit it, and the fact our manager isn’t here yet is starting to pick at his nerves. His right leg bounces with the tap of his heel.
“Need something to calm you down?” Iz says from the corner. He lights up a joint and takes an extensive hit before holding it out.
“No thanks, Iz. I just want Bedo to show the fuck up.” Austin pops off the couch and paces the length of the room. Fuck. He’s wound tight. Maybe I should go find Jax and ask him to let some girls into the room now. Austin could use a BJ more than a hit of weed.
“He’ll be here, Austin. Bedo’s never let us down,” I say and check my phone for the tenth time. We don’t go on for at least another ninety minutes and the show hasn’t even started yet. I
glance across the room to where Sean’s completely blocking out this outburst, earbuds in and bass on his lap.
“But what if something happened to him? What if he’s stuck in traffic? Did his plane ever land? Do we even know what flight he took? We can’t have a bad omen on our first headline tour!”
“Hey, man.” I stand and grip his shoulder. “How about you sit down, play some video games, have a beer, and I’ll go check on Bedo’s ETA? You just chill here. Everything’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He nods his head several times and sits back into the couch. Iz passes him a drink and I make my way out of the dressing room as fast as I can. I wasn’t freaking out or worried about Bedo, but after listening to Austin’s tirade there’s a sliver of concern working its way through my mind.
Fuck. I don’t need that shit messing with my head. I need to be thinking happy thoughts. Favorite things. Women. Fishnet stockings. Pussy. Leather. Lace. Steel toed boots.
As if my imagination has the power to conjure all my heart’s desires in the flesh, Lexi Marx steps from behind a doorway and into my direct path. My mouth salivates. My heart kicks up a beat. And of course, my dick tests the restraint of my leather pants.
Her eyes lift to meet mine and that anger flares, as if she can’t stand to see me walking in the same hallway. Maybe I should be pissed, insulted, but no, it fucking excites me, and my brain scrambles to think of ways to mess with her.
“Looking fly, Miss Marx. Good enough to eat.” I lick my lips.
Her eyes widen and she stops to place her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”
God, could she get any hotter? “Just thinking I could use a snack.”
“I hope you starve.”
“Oh, that burns a little. It’s okay. I don’t scare easily.”
“More like you don’t take a fucking hint.”
“Ouch. Someone’s pissy. You nervous, first show and all?”
She pauses and her nostrils flare, but then her lips pull up into a smile that’s so scarce it’s frightening. Shit. I’ve pushed her too far. I consider covering my balls before she retaliates. “This is not my first show, Trent. I’ve been playing music longer than you’ve been fighting hard-ons. So, yeah, I’m ready for tonight, and any indication I’m not has more to do with my present company than anything else.”
“Great to hear,” I say and her brittle front drops for just a second. I’m a bastard for not just walking away. “Kick ass on that stage. And when you’re ready to celebrate after the show, you know where to find me.”
Her shock comes in more of a sputtering expletive than actual words, and I let a wide smile spread across my face. It only pisses her off more.
“I don’t need to get fucked by you or anyone else. Asshole.”
Laughter tumbles from my mouth and I take two steps closer so she has to lift her chin to hold my gaze. Those eyes, full of feisty energy, combined with her lush red painted lips kick up every desire within. My voice drops to a whisper and I cock one eyebrow. “Maybe you’re upset you’re not getting Mr. T tonight?”
“Ugh!” She rolls her eyes and steps back. “I can say with absolute certainty that I never want Mr. T treatment.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met a woman who didn’t enjoy it. In fact, I’m sure they’re lining up now for the chance.”
“I’m aware of your whorish ways.”
I gleam at the idea she really has checked up on me. Does that mean she’s interested? Or just curious about who she’s touring with. Her lips pull into a smile and I’m sure she feels she’s finally bested me. Ha! She’ll have to hit harder and deeper than that. “I guess we all can’t be goody two shoes with our chastity belts firmly locked down. You know, you seem pretty uptight, Lexi. I could help you out with that. A good lay does wonders.” My eyes travel to the top of her fitted tank and the bra that peeks out at the neckline, along with her cleavage.
“Let me spell this out for you, Trent. I don’t like you. I don’t want to sleep with you. You do not impress me. So you have a guitar? Great. So you have money? Special.” She rolls her eyes before landing them back on me with a glare. “I don’t know anyone else who has money . . . Oh, wait. I do. You have a dick? Doesn’t every other man? The only thing I appreciate about you is the opportunity you have given me to open for the band. That’s it. And I bet that decision wasn’t even made by you. It was made by the label.”
Holy fuck, she’s even hotter when she’s verbally combative with her intelligence. Sean’s right. She’s too good for any of us assholes, but it doesn’t make me crave her any less. I want to respond with something clever. I want to kiss her until she unleashes all that fury into kissing me back. God, how I want to fuck her. Instead, I stand here like a dumbass, lips parted while I battle my desire of what I should and what I can do next.
“Nice. Now you have nothing to say, Mr. Suave? I’ll make this easy for you. From here on out here’s how it’s going to go. I play. You play. Don’t fucking hit on me. Don’t fucking flirt with me. That’s the extent of our relationship. Understood?”
She holds my stare until her eyes wander, traveling over my body and landing back at my lips much wider than before. I’m no mind reader, but that’s got to mean a part of her wants me, too.
“So it would be wrong of me to tell you how hot you are right now?”
She growls, a sound that starts low until it explodes into a scream.
Oh, shit. Pushed too far.
“Everything all right out here?” Bedo’s stern voice breaks our little confrontation. “Lexi, they need you backstage. You’re on in fifteen.”
“I’m out of here.” She pushes past without another glance, careful not to touch or brush against any part of my body.
“Bedo! My man! You gave Austin quite a scare.” I turn and meet my manager’s calculating stare. “You were almost late.”
“I’m never late,” he snaps and then turns from our green room. “Walk with me, Donavan.”
“Am I in trouble?” I jog to catch up with his quick strides.
“Tread easy with that one. She’s not a groupie,” Bedo snaps and then lets out a string of curses when his phone buzzes. With his eyes trained on the screen we walk back to the green room.
“So I’ve noticed. I’m just messing with her.” I’m also extremely turned on by her, but I don’t add that part. Even I understand the possibility for disaster that would come with us hooking up. Not that she’d let me close enough to touch her, let alone kiss her. But fuck, those lips . . .
“I mean it, Trent. Not that one. Find another play toy.”
“Hands to myself. I’ll be a good boy. Swear it.” I hold my hands up in surrender and Bedo shoots me a stare before pulling open the green room door. I don’t know if he believes me, but he lets it go and moves on. Austin springs from the couch as soon as we step inside and all returns to a familiar routine, waiting and shooting the shit. Iz puts away his paraphernalia to tap on his drum pad. I warm up my vocals. The stage and fans are waiting, calling, and the jolt of energy is just out of reach. I try really hard not to think about the feisty little blonde warming up the crowd. And more so, her red lips moving against my mic. I’ll keep my hands off, but my imagination is another story.
I make no promises there.
8
Lexi
“Hey, Mom!” I answer my phone on the first ring, hardly able to contain the elation in my tone.
“Lexi . . . Are you okay?” Of course she’s suspicious. I’m rarely this excited about anything, including her calls.
“I’m fantastic, Mom. I just finished my first set on the Three Ugly Guys tour.”
“Oh, that’s right! I forgot that was tonight.” A little buzzkill, but I will not let her bring me down. Not tonight. “How was it? Did you have a good show?”
“It’s was amazing, Mom. Thousands of people in the arena. Thousands! I’ve never played in front of that many before. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“I’m so proud of yo
u, sweetheart. You worked so hard. Your daddy will be so proud when I tell him. You should call him.” This is who she is. She’ll never get it.
“No.” Breathe, Lexi. “Mom, I’m not going to call him. I don’t care what he thinks.”
“Now, don’t be that way. He’s the reason you have any talent at all.” She says, and it’s all I can do to not scream. She believes her words are the truth, and maybe that’s what hurts most.
“Mom. I love you, but I’m hanging up now.”
“Are those Three Ugly Guys as sexy as they are in that Mindless music video?”
“Bye!” I sing into the phone and hit end before I throw my phone. Nothing like a call from my mother to sour the most awesome of moods. I don’t expect her to be anyone other than herself, but she still never ceases to amaze me with her lack of tact or sense of reality. She’ll never give up hope that I’ll have a relationship with my father, the same way I’ll never believe she was never more than a glorified regular hookup to him. A knock at my dressing room door shakes me from my thoughts. “Come in!”
“Hey, Lexi.” I’m surprised when I see Jax poke his head inside. “You killed it out there tonight.”
“Thanks, Jax.” I allow my lips to pull into a grin.
“You got any plans? Going out to celebrate?”
My smile dims . He’s here to hit on me. I try not to let disappointment cloud his compliment. “No plans here. I want to get some writing done until the buses leave.”
“Cool. Come with me.” He nods over his shoulder all casual, a friendly move that doesn’t jive if he were trying to get in my pants, or rather skirt, but one can never be too careful.
I purse my lips and tilt my head. “And where exactly would that be?”
“Merch tables. Your fans want to meet you, kid.” He winks.
“I have fans?” I scramble off my seat and grab my cell.
“You do after that performance. Even I recognize greatness when I see it. Give us a few more shows and you’ll have a line waiting for you after each set, just wait and see.” He holds the door for me and we walk down the wide industrial corridor side by side. He points out different things as we pass, waves at several of the crew, and I feel a little less alone by his side. It’s nice to have a friend, or rather what I hope is the beginning of a friendship. And his confidence in my abilities as a performer only affirms I’m exactly where I need to be.
