Dirty Boys: Bad Boy Rock Star Romance Box Set

by Jade C. Jamison

  As the song ended, the lead singer shouted out a long thanks and started introducing members of the band. It was then that I noticed Scott’s eyes were scanning the crowd. The giggly girl hidden inside me squealed with delight, waiting to see the look on his face when he spotted me. But the singer called Scott’s name before he could finish looking around. At the mention, Scott stood and bowed his head while the crowd (myself included) went wild. Of course, we cheered for each band member, but I personally gave a little extra for the guy I now lusted over.

  The lead singer said, “We’re gonna play one more song and then take a break. So, folks, could you give us a direct line to the beer when it’s time? Otherwise, our break’s gonna last a long time and you won’t be able to say shit about it.” While he was talking, Scott started scanning the crowd again. His eyes found me and, sure as shit, they lit up. I smiled and waved and he pointed a drumstick at me to acknowledge me.

  I thought I was going to die. Did he know what he was doing to me?

  Then the band started playing Machine Head’s song “Locust” and Scott joined them a few bars in.

  I didn’t take my eyes off him, and I was pretty sure he could tell my eyes were glued to him. God, I hope I wasn’t making him nervous. At the same time, I wanted him to have the satisfaction that he’d gotten my attention on a huge level.

  I’d never realized how long the song was until I had to wait impatiently for it to end. But it did finally and the band set down their equipment to get some refreshment. Scott walked over to me, though, instead of heading for the kegs with his bandmates. I asked him, “Did you want to get some beer?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  So we caught up to the other band members and made our way back to the deck where all the beer was. The crowd had parted, just as the singer had asked, to make room for them. “Why’d you keep this such a big secret?”

  Scott chuckled. “What? The party?”

  From one smartass to another, I had to give him a good comeback. “Yeah…I’m wondering why you didn’t tell me about it weeks ago. I could’ve lined up a date.”

  He must have liked my stupid joke and dry delivery because he laughed again. “I dunno.” But then he gave me a real answer. “I don’t talk about it, but everybody knows.”

  “Yeah…everybody except the new girl. And…”—he looked over at me, eyebrows raised—“I suspect you wanted to surprise me.”

  The smile never left his face. “You might be right.” We started walking up the steps to the deck. “So…what do you think?”

  I tried not to over-gush. I needed to be cool, even though my tendency was to go all batshit fangirl on him. But spazzy was not sexy. “You guys kick some serious ass.”

  Scott looked skeptical. “Not just saying that?”

  “No way. The music’s not exactly my cup of tea…”

  He frowned as we got close to the keg. Someone was filling up cups for all the band members, and they were passing them down. “If I had a dime for every girl who said that…”

  “No, don’t get me wrong. I like it. I love it actually. Your music’s just a little harder than my usual.”

  He raised his eyebrows and took a cup overflowing with beer. “Thanks, man.” Scott looked at me again. “Yep, I’ve heard that one, too. What kind of music do you usually listen to?”

  “Hard rock, metal. Just not as heavy as what you’re playing.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “So who’s your favorite band?”

  I took a deep breath. I hadn’t been asked that in a long time, and I wondered if I could narrow it down. I had lots of favorites. “That’d have to be Slipknot.”

  He took my chin in his hand and said, “There’s hope for you yet.” His hand touching my chin? I thought I was going to die right there.

  “Hey, Scott, Casey!” We turned to the side to see David approaching from the right.

  I waved as Scott dropped his hand. “Hi, David!” He embraced me when he got to us.

  “So what do you think?”

  “About the band?” When he nodded, I said, “Holy shit. I had no idea. I pulled up to this place and liked what I heard. Totally freaked out when I realized I knew the drummer.”

  “See?” David said, looking at Scott. “I told you she’d like Pain and Agony. She listens to the right stuff.”

  I grinned and rolled my eyes. The lead singer walked past and slapped Scott on the shoulder. “Ready to do this?” Scott nodded. “Hey, Dave.”

  “Lee, you sound great as always.”

  “Thanks.”

  Scott said, “Lee, this is our friend Casey.”

  He smiled and flashed me a look I was fairly used to seeing—one I was used to but that guys with me didn’t much care for. Lee offered his hand and shook mine but didn’t let it go. His gaze began to make me feel uncomfortable. Did he think we were alone? “Nice to meet you.” Finally, he walked down the steps and began heading back toward the open area where all the band equipment was.

  “Guess that’s my cue,” Scott said. I smiled but I could tell his mood had cooled. Shit. I couldn’t help it that his lead singer was a little aggressive, and it certainly didn’t mean I was interested. If Scott hadn’t been around, maybe I might have considered him, but all other guys were now off the menu.

  So Scott followed his bandmates, ready to play their second set.

  I started to walk back down the steps off the deck, but David said, “Casey, the view’s much better here.”

  “Not if I can get front row.”

  “Yeah, but we can’t talk there.”

  “Oh, okay.” I could take a hint. “So what’s going on?”

  “Just wondered what you thought about the band.”

  “You need me to repeat myself?”

  “You might have just been saying nice things for Scott’s sake.”

  “No way. They’re impressive as hell. Have they written a lot of original stuff?”

  “Not lots…they started out doing covers, but over the last year, they’ve been writing some of their own stuff. It’s been pretty cool.”

  I nodded but didn’t say anything else, because David acted like he had more to say, and I didn’t want to cut him off. He pointed over to the right down on the lawn where there were lights strewn about because the floodlights couldn’t quite reach. “Do you see that kinda tall guy by those white chairs?”

  I followed where his finger pointed. “There are a lot of people, David, and a lot of white chairs.”

  “The tallest guy, Casey.”

  My eyes located him. “Yeah. What about him?”

  “I think he was hitting on me a while ago.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah…but I got nervous and told him I was going to get a beer.”

  “So what the hell are you still doing here?” He looked at me. “Or don’t you like him?”

  “Oh, I really like him. It’s just…”

  “What?”

  “How long were you in Denver, Casey?” Before I could even answer, he said, “Winchester’s not exactly forward thinking. When it comes to gays, the folks in town aren’t as progressive as they want people to think. No one actually says anything, but you know what they’re thinking—and it makes me uncomfortable. So I prefer to date guys from Colorado Springs if I can. Then I don’t have to worry about all that.”

  “David…your heart knows what it wants. Who gives a shit if he’s from here? Don’t you deserve to be happy?” David’s worry seemed to dissolve from his eyes a bit. I nudged his arm with my shoulder. “Just go back there. If it’s meant to happen, it will.”

  He smiled and hugged me. “You’re right.” When he let go of me, his gaze returned to the guy across the yard. “I’m gonna go for it.”

  And after he left, his potential love interest in his sights, I moved my eyes back to mine. Watching Scott pound those drums relentlessly made my heart beat in time. Yeah…I had it bad. And even though the mood had cooled, Scott walked me to my car when all was said and done. There
was no hug and no kiss, but there was hope…and that was all I needed.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day found me finally stopping by the Arts Center. As soon as I walked in, I felt like an idiot. I was wearing the standard blue jeans/ white t-shirt uniform of Bob’s instead of being dressed like an artist. Before I could turn around, though, a man at the desk spoke to me. When I mentioned I just wanted a little information about local art, he practically shoved me into the director’s office.

  The woman with blonde hair worn up off her face introduced as Director Reeves motioned to an empty chair across from her desk. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m an artist. I just wondered what you folks do in regard to local artists.”

  “We love to feature local art. You’re from here?” I nodded at her question but she barely stopped talking. “How would you describe your art, Ms.—”

  “Williams. Casey Williams. Honestly? I’m kind of all over the place. I like to do traditional realistic paintings but I love surrealism, too. And, as for medium, I prefer acrylic and oils, but I also dabble in watercolors and photography.” Even more honest was the fact that I hadn’t done shit since I’d moved to Winchester. Painting the house and front fence didn’t qualify as art.

  “The biggest problem, perhaps, is that our displays are planned out well in advance, and that includes themes for each show. I wouldn’t even be able to consider anything of yours until fall. But you might be able to join in the fun of that. In September and October, our theme is going to be tattoo art. Now, of course, we’ll feature the obvious. Tattoo artists will display their artwork on live models as well as in photographs. But even if you’re not a tattoo artist, you can be included in the display. Do you have any paintings or drawings of tattoos?”

  “No, but I could. When would you need to see them?”

  “Sometime in July or August. The sooner, the better.” Before I headed to work, I filled out a contact form and promised to call when I had something. Of course, she couldn’t guarantee a spot in the show, but she’d consider showing something of mine.

  That was good enough for me—and I was grinning from ear to ear when I headed to work a few minutes later.

  When I got to the kitchen, Scott was on grill with Jim at the sous station, so I didn’t even have to ask. I’d be on fryer. Either way, with Scott on grill, I’d be close to him. Ever since the party, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, so I was sneaking glances at him during the lunch rush. In particular, I loved seeing half of his swollen bicep peeking out from underneath the white sleeve of his t-shirt. And I liked seeing the bottom of more tattoos peeking out from underneath it. He hadn’t said much so far, other than calling orders, but his green eyes were full of sparkle.

  I wanted to talk.

  “You seem pretty happy. Glad you haven’t had to train any new cooks lately?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s it.”

  “You guys put on a hell of a show.”

  “You got to see Scott bangin’ the skins, Casey?” Of course, Jim had to insert himself into our conversation. I nodded, not knowing how to keep him out of it. “Is that what you’re both grinning about?”

  “Actually—”

  Wendy appeared at the window. She hissed, “Are you guys cooking or just fucking around? Table eight has been waiting for twenty minutes!”

  Scott started looking through the tickets. “We got nothin’ here for table eight.”

  “Did you guys fucking lose it?”

  Scott’s brow weighed heavily on his eyes. “No. Check your stuff.”

  “It’s not here,” she said, throwing several slips on the counter. “There’s—” As she paused, her face almost paled, making several freckles appear more prominently.

  “That looks like it,” Scott said, taking it from her. “I need a porterhouse and a chicken fried.” Jim grabbed the steak and slapped it on the corner of the grill while I dug a frozen chicken fried steak patty out of the freezer behind me. His voice like a glacier, Scott said, “Why don’t you give them both a free trip to the salad bar and let them know we’ll have it done soon?”

  Wendy looked pissed but kept her voice in check. “Thank you.”

  My good news would have to wait, especially when two other waitresses brought us orders and we started rocking. After about an hour, though, things calmed down enough that we knew we’d hit the peak of the lunch rush and were just dealing with what was left. I found myself zoning out—and staring at Scott’s upper arm again.

  But, apparently, I wasn’t subtle about it. Jim asked, “Whatcha lookin’ at, Casey?”

  His words pulled me out of my dreamlike trance. “Hmmm?” Fuck. Caught red-handed, I had to try to save myself. I knew there were plenty of ways I could handle it, and playing dumb and out of it was going to be my defense. I didn’t want to look guilty. I mean…it wasn’t like I was staring at his ass, for God’s sake. It was just his arm. That didn’t have to be sexual. So, the question now was if I could pull it off. First, I had to pull my eyes off, so I looked over at Jim and repeated my earlier murmur. “Hmmm?” There. Innocent. Inside, I nodded, feeling pretty smug about now.

  But Jim knew. Something about the look in my eyes must have tipped him off. I’d been lusting after Scott and Jim caught it. “I asked what you were looking at.”

  Still…I wasn’t giving up my cover that easily. I shrugged. “Just staring off into space, I guess.”

  Scott, now interested, stood back to watch our repartee. He had five burgers and one small steak on the grill, none of which was in immediate danger of going up in smoke. Jim said, “Oh, is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

  Inside, I was a seething pool of lava. Man, I would love to tell that guy off. I’d had a bad feeling about Jim before, but this incident just kind of confirmed it. Despite that, though, I didn’t want Scott thinking I was objectifying him. Granted, he probably wouldn’t have minded, but he was turning out to be more than the kind of guy I just wanted to fuck and leave. Even though I still didn’t know him that well, there seemed to be so much to him, especially after discovering his huge secret. He’d managed to keep from me the fact that he was a drummer in a local heavy metal band for well over a month. How many other surprises did he have in store for me? I’d never find out if I didn’t try to get to know him. So…continue to play dumb. That was the plan. That and a little bit of subterfuge to throw him off the scent. Raising my right eyebrow, I said, “Exactly who are they?”

  Jim was too sly for me, and if I’d thought I could bluff my way out of anything with that man, I had another think coming. “Oh, no. You’re not getting off the hook that easy. What were you staring at?”

  Oh, my God. I realized then, at Jim’s angle, the fucking pervert might have thought I’d been staring at Scott’s junk! Holy shit. It didn’t matter that my eyes had been looking nowhere near that area; Jim was going to make a big deal out of it. I managed to keep a cool exterior, but now I knew I was fighting for my life. Fine…call my bluff…the fucker. I was going to play it to my advantage then. And if it backfired, so be it. At least it would be the truth. “If you really must know, I was looking at the edge of Scott’s sleeve. He has a tattoo peeking out there, and I wondered what it was.”

  Shit. I could feel the blush crawling from the center of my chest up my neck, and my cheeks were about to start burning. It wasn’t hot enough in the kitchen to play that off as heat related yet. But the look on Scott’s face stopped my blush dead in its tracks. He wasn’t offended or freaked out at all. And I could tell from the look on Jim’s face, too, that I’d thwarted whatever plan he’d had. I couldn’t read his emotion, though, and now that I’d captured Scott’s interest, I really didn’t care.

  Scott set down the tongs, the tips on the grill itself, and pulled the sleeve on his left arm up to his shoulder, inviting me closer. So I did…I took two steps over and, if the kitchen hadn’t been so warm already, I would’ve been able to feel his body heat
. I certainly felt some sort of vibration. There was something there between us. I just didn’t know when one of us would act on it. We were both hesitant. I knew why I was. And David had said something about Scott the night we’d been drinking. He’d said Scott had been used by women in the past, if I could properly recall our drunken conversation. So we were both cautious. I guessed Scott’s hesitation was a good sign. It meant he didn’t just want to love me and leave me, either.

  But now I had a chance to salivate over his body art without stealing a peek, so I was going to enjoy it. At first, I couldn’t tell what I was looking at. He had some kind of tribal tattoo, all lines and swirls, bold, thick, and dark. But then I saw…what was that? I was going to use my question as an excuse to touch him.

  I ran my finger up the length of a tattoo mixed in with others, just above the tribal one that had been peeking out of his sleeve. “What’s that?” It looked like the bottom of a letter X. Was it maybe like the tattoo on Sully Erna’s back? There were lots of pictures of the Godsmack vocalist’s back, whereupon he’d had his penchant for pornography inked and even though it was now part of a larger tattoo, the Xs remained distinguishable. Porn was a guy thing, and I supposed being open about it was even more so, and I’d respect it—but I was curious as hell as to what Scott’s looked like.

  My eyes met his as I asked the question and, yeah, my touch had the effect I’d intended. He liked it. I could tell from how dark his eyes turned, how confident his smile had grown. But he still had a playful look in his eye as he pulled the sleeve back even farther up his shoulder to reveal a set of drumsticks. Somehow, they were sexy. I liked his tattoo artist. Maybe I’d get to see more of this person’s work in the tattoo art show at the Art Center in the fall. In the meantime, though, I had a flesh canvas I was able to appreciate.

  I removed my finger which had been searing his skin for far too long. And I realized Scott had hardly said a word, but his pleased expression was unmistakable. My voice was low when I said, “That’s really fuckin’ cool.”