Dirty Boys: Bad Boy Rock Star Romance Box Set

by Jade C. Jamison

  I smiled. “You guys playing tonight?”

  The guitarist from Last Five Seconds smiled back. “Yeah. I didn’t know you were in a band.”

  Oh, God, really? He recognized me? “Yeah. Been with these guys since June.”

  “I’ve heard a little buzz around your band, and I’ve seen ‘em once or twice, but I haven’t had the pleasure yet. I think you guys are on right before we are.” Yes, we were. We were second in a lineup of four bands.

  I remembered last fall when I’d gone with Ethan to the concert at The Cave. The hot older guy standing in front of me had been making eyes at me at that concert, but I thought it was bizarre that he’d remember me. There was nothing memorable about me. I had to know. “So you actually remember me?”

  I loved his grin, and if Ethan hadn’t been so close to my heart, I would have flirted with this guy a lot more. “How could I forget you? You were totally into the show, and you were with the other guitarist in your band—not Brad, but the other guy. You dressed the part, but you looked so…Little Bo Peep.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Where are your tattoos, your piercings, the heavy black makeup around your eyes?”

  I grinned. “I’ll be working on the tattoos soon. I promise. I just need to save up enough money.”

  “When you’re ready, let me know. I can send you to my tattoo artist. He’s fucking brilliant.” He moved his arm to halfway between us so I could get a better look at the canvas in front of me. It was great work and beautiful—lots of color and detail.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “Name’s Clayton, by the way, but they call me Jet.”

  “Jet?”

  “Yeah. Speed of light, you know.”

  I nodded and grinned. “I’ve seen you play. It suits you.” I took the hand he offered. It was warm and dry and reluctant to let mine go. “Valerie.”

  “Got a last name, Valerie?”

  “Quinn. What about you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. You’ll never forget it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. It’s Smith. But even if you find a thousand Clayton Smiths, I promise you won’t find one like me.”

  Oh. That gaze…struck something inside me, melted something in there. And I believed him. Wow. Ethan was a lucky guy, because had it been anyone else, I would have been flirting with this guy hardcore. I smiled. “I think you’re probably right about that.”

  “So what do you play?”

  “I sing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be front row.” He reached behind him to pull his wallet out of his pocket. He had a large silver chain attached to it, and he whipped out a twenty. “I’ll take a large short sleeve in black.”

  I reached over in front of Nick where the regular tees were and handed him the cash. “I need a five back.”

  I handed the guitarist his change and he said, “Be right back.” He walked away, leaving me wondering what he was doing. He had captured my attention, but I was back in the moment. Yeah, he’d been flirting with me, but I didn’t want Ethan seeing or overhearing and thinking something unsavory was going on. I looked around while I waited for Clayton (or Jet?) to return, but I couldn’t see Ethan anywhere. And Nick…well, he was still charming the girls at our table.

  Clayton came back, black shirt in hand, which he handed to me. “I’d be honored if you’d wear this onstage.” At first, I’d thought he was handing me the tee he’d bought from us, but when I unfolded it, I saw in big red letters LAST FIVE SECONDS. The lettering design was intricate and artistic, almost gothic but not quite.

  “Tonight?”

  He grinned, small dimples forming in his cheeks. “Yeah.”

  I couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay.” He nodded. “So what do I call you—Clayton or Jet?”

  He shrugged. “You decide. I go by both.” He started to back up. “Have a good show tonight.”

  “You too.” I looked at the shirt unfolded in front of me. It was a small, and I usually wore a medium, so I knew it would be snug. If I’d had smaller breasts, it wouldn’t have been a problem. Still…I’d promised. So I asked Nick if he could cover the table for a few minutes, and he said he could. I went into the bathroom. Yeah…it was snug, but I thought I’d be okay with that. I knew, though, that I could make it cooler and more comfortable with a pair of scissors.

  I went to the front counter, and there were a girl and a guy selling tickets to the show. The girl looked at me with disdain but the guy said, “Fully Automatic, right?” I nodded. “Everything okay? Need anything?”

  I smiled. “Do you have a pair of scissors I could borrow?”

  “I think so.” He rifled through a bunch of junk on the shelf underneath the counter and handed me an old pair of orange-handled scissors. “I don’t know how good they’ll be, but give ‘em a shot.”

  He was right. Once in the bathroom, I started modifying the shirt. The scissors weren’t as sharp as I was sure they’d been back when they were new, but with effort, I was able to cut through the fabric. This was metal, for God’s sake. It didn’t have to be perfect and, besides, I didn’t have a lot of time to play around. I cut off the arms and then I cut a slit down from the neck to my cleavage. Then I cut a few triangle-shaped patches out—one in front of my navel and three on the back in various places and put a few fake rips in it. And as I finished, I knew Clayton would either love it or hate it. He’d either love that I’d made his shirt my own and wore it with pride onstage, advertising for the next band, or he’d think I’d desecrated it. I just hoped the guys wouldn’t ask about it.

  They didn’t. They were used to me wearing a variety of ripped shirts, and I’d been wearing just another t-shirt that night anyway. Before we took the stage, Ethan grabbed my hand and squeezed it but didn’t say a word. I looked over at him and smiled. Oh, shit. He was fucked up. I didn’t know what he was on, but he was messed up. That worried me. Yeah, I knew Brad could hold his own onstage if he needed to, but I didn’t like knowing Ethan was blasted out of his mind.

  The first three songs were spot on. We were on fire, and the audience was eating us up. It was pure magic. But then, in the middle of the fourth song, Ethan started missing notes and just flubbing up in general. I didn’t think the audience noticed, and Brad maintained, but it was throwing me off. So, in between songs, I looked over at Brad. Fortunately, he knew exactly what I was thinking. He gave me a look of assurance, urging me to keep going and just disregard Ethan. I looked over at the man to whom I’d given my heart, but—as usual during a concert—he wasn’t with us. He was off in musical nirvana…exactly where that was for Ethan, I didn’t know, but he certainly wasn’t there with us.

  We persevered, though. The next song, I’d decided to focus as much on the rhythm as I could, trying to ignore the guitar. That proved to be impossible but not unmanageable. It was during that song—“Metal Forever,” a song that had become my personal anthem—that I noticed Clayton/ Jet at the edge of the stage. Oh, God, was he cute, and he smiled when he caught me looking. I was in the middle of singing a line, so if he caught my acknowledgement back, it was through my eyes only. But after the song was over, I winked at him.

  No, I don’t know why I did it.

  When we were done, we hauled our equipment off stage to make room for Last Five Seconds to set up. Ethan was too far gone by that point, and Brad cornered him off stage. Ethan wandered off somewhere while the remaining four of us emptied the stage.

  Clayton/ Jet stopped me before his band started loading their equipment onto the stage. “Nice show, Valerie. You stayin’ to watch?”

  “We usually do. Gotta support our friends, right?”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” He started walking up the stage. “I’ll be playing tonight for you.”

  Whoa. That was heavy. And here’s where having a secret boyfriend—if that was what I could even call Ethan—presented some trouble. I couldn’t exactly tell him ri
ght there that I was seeing someone as he was walking away from me and my friends/ bandmates were right beside me. But chances were this was the last of it. I was just nice flirting material for him for the evening.

  The four of us—Brad, Zane, Nick, and me—stood near the front. Nick had his arm around the girl he’d been talking to earlier, and I was surprised he wasn’t already making out with her, knowing his track record. I noticed the guitarist onstage looking around, and he kept it up until he spotted me. He pointed his left index finger at me from under the shaft of his guitar and grinned at me.

  Brad noticed, because he looked over at me, but he didn’t say a word. I just looked back at him and tried to deliver as innocent a smile as I could.

  My God, could those guys rock. Jet—that’s who he was when his guitar was in his hand—was one of the best live guitarists I’d ever seen. It was like he and his guitar were one. His fingers were like liquid, gliding over the strings, even when he was shredding. He was amazing to watch. He was sexy too. The energy he exuded, moving around the stage, singing backup when needed, looking down at me on occasion. Those looks gave me chills.

  But I had to push those thoughts out of my head. Oh, my God. It was true, everything my parents had ever told me. I’d finally given in to my deepest desires, and now I was full of lust.

  Honestly, though, I would have found him gorgeous before; in fact, I had. And, no, I still wasn’t to the point where I wondered what he’d be like in bed. No, but I did appreciate that he was a fine specimen of man.

  When their show was over, they were lugging their equipment off stage so the last band could set up. Brad said to the three of us, “I’m gonna check on Ethan.”

  Yeah, where was he? Brad was still gone when the fourth band started setting up, and after a few minutes, Last Five Seconds’s guitarist tracked me down. His hair was damp, and he’d run his fingers through it, pulling it away from his face. He was swigging on a bottle of water as he approached me. “What’d you think?”

  I smiled. “Even better than the last time I saw you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I give you some advice?”

  I was curious. “About what?”

  “On stage.”

  I was hesitant but wanted to know. His band had been performing for a couple of years. He had oodles more experience than I did. I wanted to know. “Sure.”

  “You have a great voice, Valerie. Not a lot of women can pull off metal. And you do some great stuff with your voice. But…I’d love to hear you scream more.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah…try a deep growl or just a crazy scream. You don’t want to do it through the whole thing, but it could really punctuate a lot of the other cool shit you got goin’ on.” I nodded my head. “You ever hear In This Moment?” I raised my eyebrows. “You know, Maria Brink.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “There’s a woman knows how to do metal.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Thanks.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I’ll be listening.”

  I looked over for my remaining two bandmates. Nick had disappeared, and Zane was talking to two girls beside him. “So, seriously…do I call you Clayton or Jet?”

  He got a huge grin on his face. “Well, it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Do you want me sweet or dirty?”

  Oh. Wow. He really was pushing all the right buttons. But I was a good girl. “Well…considering I have a, uh, well, um, I’m kind of seeing somebody, I think I’ll have to take you sweet.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Kind of seeing somebody?”

  I’m not sure why I told him, but I said, “Yeah. He’s my secret boyfriend.”

  “Secret boyfriend? If you were with me, the whole world would know it.”

  I wanted to change the subject. My relationship with Ethan was off the table, and I didn’t want Zane overhearing our conversation anyway. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

  His eyes grew serious, but I could see the playfulness in them. “Then I guess you’d better call me Clay. You want the bad boy, ask for Jet. He’ll come running, secret boyfriend or not.”

  Well, if that didn’t make me just love this boy, nothing would. I felt almost winded, but then Brad showed up. “Val, we gotta go.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He noticed Clayton. “Hey, Jet. How’s it goin’, man? Great show, by the way.”

  “Thanks. You too.” He tipped his head toward me. “Nice addition to your band.”

  Brad grinned at me. “Yeah. We thought so too.”

  To me, Clayton said, “By the way, I really like my shirt on you.”

  Brad noticed the shirt then. “Cool. Didn’t even notice.” He looked back at Clayton. “See you around.”

  I gave Clayton a tiny wave and smiled. He smiled back, and then I realized he probably thought Brad was my boyfriend…not that it mattered. Nothing could happen between Clayton and me, no matter how cute he was. Nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  ETHAN WAS SERIOUSLY messed up. Brad, Zane, and I stood outside the van while Ethan was passed out in the back. He’d just thrown up, and Brad had told him to sleep it off.

  “I don’t know if I should take him to the ER or not.”

  I asked, “What’d he take, Brad?”

  “No fuckin’ idea.”

  “Why the hell does he do this?”

  Brad gave me a look, and I knew why. We’d discussed this before, and he wasn’t willing to talk about it again, no matter how much it bothered me. Zane broke the ice. “Nick coming?”

  “Nope. He’s got a ride.”

  “Yeah, I bet he’s got a helluva ride. Lucky motherfucker.”

  Brad asked, “So do we take him to the hospital or not?”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Better than before.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “I guess.” Brad looked over at Zane then back to me. “Good luck.”

  I opened the van door and stepped in. I heard Brad and Zane talking quietly, and I didn’t know if they were trying to keep their conversation from Ethan or from me. But I knelt in the tight space between the driver’s seat and the bench seat behind it, near where Ethan’s head lay. I put my hand on his forehead. It was cool and clammy. I whispered, “Ethan?”

  He moved his head toward my voice. “Hmm?”

  “How are you?”

  “Okay.”

  “You sure? Should we take you to get help?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “No. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine.”

  He opened his eyes. I could see them only because of the dim dome light. “I’m fine.” He took another breath, but it didn’t seem normal. His breathing seemed shallow. “I just wanna go home.” He seemed halfway coherent, but I still didn’t feel sure.

  I kissed his cheek. “I just worry about you. I love you.”

  “Then just take me home, okay?”

  I don’t know what kind of response I’d expected, but I hadn’t expected abrupt. Still, he was under the influence of something, and I was willing to let the rudeness slip. “Okay.” I stepped back outside the van and told Brad and Zane what Ethan had said.

  So we made the trip back to our apartment. We were quiet. Brad even had the radio turned down low. I sat in my usual seat but kept turning around to look at Ethan. His head was rolling back and forth with the motion of the van, but he seemed to be passed out for the most part.

  When we got home, Brad and Zane helped Ethan inside. Both wrapped an arm over their shoulders to help him. I was still worried, but Ethan forced a smile, so I thought maybe he’d be okay. Once upstairs, Brad said, “I’m gonna put him on the couch so we can keep an eye on him.”

  “Then I’m sleeping out here too.”

  “You can have my cot.”

  “No. I’m not taking your bed. I’ll just sleep in the chair.” The one soft chair in the room. I didn’t plan o
n sleeping much anyway.

  Brad insisted, but I wasn’t going to budge. I just smiled and then brushed my teeth, slipped off my boots, and changed from jeans to sweats. He and Zane were in the kitchen talking, but I walked past them into the living room. I sat on the couch beside Ethan. “You sure you’re doing all right?”

  He blinked at me. He had a little more color in his face. “Yeah.”

  “Want something to drink?” He nodded. “Be right back.”

  I went back in the kitchen and grabbed a glass. I poured him some water. Brad asked, “He still seem okay?”

  “He said he wanted something to drink. That’s a good sign, right?”

  He shrugged. He looked worried, and I knew why. Ethan was like his brother, and Brad was torn. I was too, but Ethan talking and looking a little more coherent had alleviated my worries a little bit. When I got back to the living room, I sat next to him again. “I have your water here.”

  He opened his eyes again and lifted his head a little. I placed my hand on the back of his neck and brought the water to his lips. He sipped and then rested his head back. He focused on me. “Where’d you get that shirt?”

  I wasn’t going there…not now anyway. “At the show tonight.” That was all he needed to know.

  “Oh…looks good on you.” He lay his head back and, within seconds, started snoring softly.

  I didn’t sleep well that night. I would drift off and then wake right back up, then check on Ethan and sit back down. Sometime several hours past midnight, Ethan’s breathing seemed completely normal, and I started to relax. And, at some point after that, I drifted into a deeper sleep.

  The next morning, I woke up feeling stiff and uncomfortable all over. Ethan wasn’t on the couch. Brad and Zane were still sleeping on their cots. I got up, hoping Ethan was okay. As I moved to the other end of the apartment, I heard the shower in the bathroom. It might have been Nick, but then I realized the big bedroom’s door was open. I tapped on the bathroom door.