Westside Series Box Set

by Monica Alexander

  Not much, was her answering response. You?

  Going out with Dillon. He’s decided he wants to get drunk and laid. I’m playing wingman or chaperone – possibly both.

  Aww, that sucks, she sent back.

  Want to come with me, so I don’t have to be miserable and sober alone?

  I waited for her to answer, but she didn’t respond right away. My first thought was that things between us had irrevocably changed because we’d slept together. Sabrina had been unnaturally cool about what had happened between us the day after – not like most girls at all – but maybe that had changed. Maybe time had brought clarity, and she realized it was better for us to avoid each other. I hoped that wasn’t the case.

  I’m not sure I feel like going out. Some of the guys from my band are playing poker tonight, and they invited me. It’ll be more low-key.

  Damn.

  What if I promise to buy you seltzer water and lime all night? I sent back to her. Does that do anything for you?

  I figured being cute might work. Or at least I hoped it would, but then she didn’t respond again.

  I’d really love your company, I told her, knowing I was going out on a limb with that. I didn’t make a habit of saying things like that for a reason.

  Okay, but only if you make it orange juice. I’ll go if there’s the promise of orange juice.

  I laughed out loud. If you want orange juice, orange juice it is.

  Then I’m in.

  Cool. Meet us downstairs in fifteen minutes?

  I’ll be there.

  I set down my phone with a smile.

  “Who were you texting?” Dillon asked me, and I turned to see him looking at me expectantly.

  I hadn’t even heard him come out of his room. I’d been ready to go thirty minutes earlier, at the time he’d told me to be ready, but he’d napped longer than planned. He’d been primping when I’d decided to text Sabrina.

  “Hey man. I was just talking to Sabrina. She’s going to come out with us tonight. That’s cool, right?”

  Normally, I wouldn’t have asked. I would have just done what I wanted, but it felt a little like Dillon was teetering on the edge of a breakdown. I didn’t want to push him over the edge.

  “Yeah, I guess. She’s cool.”

  I was surprised that he didn’t bring up the conversation we’d had about her a few weeks ago when he told me to sleep with her. Normally he would have taken the opportunity to rib me about it some more, or at least tossed me an ‘I told you so’ about giving her a chance, but it seemed his broken heart had him off his game.

  “She’s pretty cool,” I confirmed. “And it’ll give me someone to hang with while you’re off finding a girl to bring back here.”

  Dillon sighed, not seeming all that thrilled with what the night held.

  “Have you ever slept with anyone but Meredith?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “No. She was my first, and I figured she’d be my last.”

  “You know that’s kind of a rarity these days, man. Most people don’t end up with the person they start with.”

  “What do you know about it?” he snapped.

  “I know enough,” I said, sort of feeling like I was being attacked.

  “Have you ever even had a girlfriend?”

  “Not really, but that doesn’t mean I’m ignorant. I pay attention more than you’d think.”

  “Oh, I’m sure your surroundings were crystal clear when you were high all the time,” he teased, but I didn’t take it in the fun-loving way he’d probably intended.

  “Hey man, don’t go there,” I warned him.

  “What?” Dillon asked, sounding thoroughly confused.

  “Don’t talk about the way things were. I don’t want to hear it. I know how bad it was. I get it, but I also don’t want to be reminded of it at every turn. You feel me?”

  “Yeah, sure. Sorry I said anything,” he mumbled.

  “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again,” I said as I got to my feet. “Come on, let’s go meet Sabrina.”

  * * *

  “He seems like he’s having fun,” Sabrina commented as we both watched Dillon who was holding court at a nearby table.

  He had five girls he was entertaining, and although I knew he wasn’t in his right mind, I had to admit that I found what he was doing preferable to how he’d been acting. Even if it was just a pretense and a product of the vodka he’d been drinking all night, he seemed happier than I’d seen him in a long time.

  Sabrina and I were perched on a banquette against a wall in the VIP section of the club so we could stay out of the fray but still keep an eye on Dillon. I was trying to pretend I wasn’t checking her out, when in reality it was hard to keep my eyes off of her long, tan legs. She was wearing a short snakeskin dress that was sexy as hell on its own, but she’d paired it with black combat boots. She looked like walking sex, and I couldn’t get the memories of what it had been like to be with her out of my mind.

  But I couldn’t let her know that, so I’d forced myself not to talk about anything sexy. So far we’d kept our conversation to small talk about the tour and performing in Canada, and I’d told her about how our next album was coming. We’d been spending some of our off-days recording, and it was coming along nicely. We still had half the album to write and more than that to record, but we were making progress.

  I figured those were safe topics to keep me from saying something that might make her smack me, but all those things I wanted to say were right on the tip of my tongue. In truth, if I had my way, we’d leave the club and go back to her room for a repeat of what we’d done a week and a half ago. I definitely wouldn’t hate that.

  “Hey guys,” Dillon said, sweeping back over to us.

  He put his hand on the back of the banquette between Sabrina and me and leaned down so he was right in my face. Then he attempted to whisper, which just ended up being an epic fail.

  “Dude, the brunette over there,” he said, as I looked over his shoulder and saw three brunettes. “She said she can do this thing with cherries and her pussy that I would really like to see.”

  “Oh!” Sabrina said, having overheard what he’d said.

  “Is that right?” I said, trying to take what he’d said in stride and not to get drunk off of his alcohol-soaked breath.

  “Dude, she’s so fucking hot. I’m totally going to fuck her and her friend tonight. You’ve had threesomes. How fucking awesome are they?”

  “They’re pretty awesome,” I told him, feeling bad for saying that in front of Sabrina. I didn’t make a habit of talking about my sex life, especially in front of someone I’d slept with.

  Dillon grinned. “That’s what I thought. I’m totally having one.”

  “Wear a condom,” I reminded him, knowing the last thing he needed was to get some random girl pregnant or to contract an STD from a slutty girl.

  He stood up and saluted me. “Will do, sir.”

  “Fuck off,” I told him playfully.

  He just laughed. “There are plenty of girls,” he said then. “I only need two. You’re welcome to the others.”

  “I’m good,” I told him.

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself, but let me know if you change your mind.” Then he shifted his gaze to Sabrina. “How about you?”

  “Oh, no thanks, Dillon. I’ve done the lesbian thing, and it’s not really for me.”

  I wasn’t sure why I was surprised to hear that, considering that I knew she hadn’t been closed off about her sex life in the past, back when she hadn’t really been closed off about anything. But I guess I really didn’t think of the Sabrina I knew and the Sabrina she’d been as the same person.

  “Man, that’s just hot,” Dillon told her. “Girl on girl action is the best!”

  “It’s something,” Sabrina confirmed noncommittally.

  “You ever go down on another girl?” Dillon asked her, and I had the sudden urge to grab him by his collar and push him back toward the girls he’d been ente
rtaining.

  “You don’t have to answer him,” I told Sabrina instead.

  “Aww, come on,” Dillon whined. “Humor me. I just got dumped by the girl I was going to marry. I’m broken-hearted. Don’t I deserve a little something that will cheer me up?”

  “Not that, man,” I told him at the same time Sabrina said, “I don’t mind talking about it.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “You don’t?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not ashamed of it.” Then she turned to Dillon. “Yes, I’ve gone down on a girl. And no, I didn’t like it.”

  “So hot,” he muttered.

  “It wasn’t that hot,” Sabrina mumbled.

  “Yeah, it totally was,” Dillon said, as if he’d been there. “Okay, I’m out. Going back to work my magic some more.”

  He winked at us and then headed back to the table of girls who were more than happy to welcome him back.

  I turned to Sabrina. “The things I don’t know about you,” I said in a teasing sort of way.

  As I said it, I realized I really didn’t know much about her. And I’d never really asked. Anything I knew was because she’d told me. That made me feel like kind of a dick. Although in my defense, I’d never really been in this situation before. Outside of Leah and Kelsey, who I’d known forever, I didn’t have girls as friends. I wasn’t sure what the proper protocol was.

  Sabrina shrugged her shoulders, and my gaze involuntarily drifted to the curve of her neck. She had a graceful look about her, like a dancer, and it was such a turn-on.

  “It’s not a secret,” she said, and I wondered what she’d do if she knew I was remembering the night we’d spent together.

  I swallowed back what I was thinking, knowing we couldn’t go there again and shifted my gaze to her face. It was just as distracting. Damn. Her soft brown eyes were warm and inviting, and her lips were glossy and plump, making me want to kiss her right there in the middle of the club.

  “I didn’t know you had a lesbian phase,” I said, forcing myself to stop thinking about her naked. “Even if it isn’t a secret, it’s not something I was readily aware of.”

  “It’s on the Internet. There are pictures and everything.”

  I felt my eyebrows rise in surprise.

  “Not those kinds of pictures, but back in the day I’d make out with other girls from time to time. I really liked kissing. The other stuff, not so much. I was high out of my mind most of the time, so I wasn’t always aware of what I was doing.”

  “I thought you had a boyfriend back then.”

  “I did. He was open to me experimenting, so I did. He did too. It was kind of hot. We were all open and free with our love back then, and I was cool with it. I’m not sure I’d feel the same way now, but I was okay with it for a while.”

  “I really don’t feel like I know you at all,” I admitted.

  “You can Google me. I’m sure you’d learn a lot.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sure I’d learn a lot of BS that won’t really mean anything today. I’d rather get to know who you are now.”

  “Yeah? You want that?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I think I do.”

  She seemed surprised. “Well, in that case, you can ask me whatever you want to know. I’ll tell you.”

  Something about her saying that exhilarated me. I knew she’d offered before, but this time felt different. It was like we’d crossed over an invisible line, and I was suddenly seeing her differently. She wasn’t the enemy. She was a friend, and I could see that now.

  “Alright, so tell me something about you that I probably don’t know,” I said, turning so I was angled toward her.

  She reached forward and picked up her orange juice that was sitting on the table in front of us. I watched her wrap her lips around the straw and take a long sip. God, her lips were sexy as hell. Just looking at them wrapped around that straw was making me regret that we’d only had one night together. Her full, pouty lips around my dick would be a sight to behold.

  When she leaned back, she said, “What do you want to know?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  I figured it was a relatively non-invasive question, but as I watched her falter for a second before she relaxed and turned to look at me, I wasn't so sure.

  “I had a brother,” she said in a voice that didn’t exactly sound like hers. “His name was Dustin, but he died when I was ten.”

  And now I felt like a complete dick for asking.

  “How about you?”

  “How about me, what?” I asked, caught off-guard when she turned the tables on me. I was still reeling from what she’d said about her brother.

  “Do you have any siblings?”

  I shook my head. “No, no siblings.”

  She nodded as silence descended over us.

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I needed another question, but my mind was blank. I couldn’t think of anything. All I could focus on was the fact that we’d both faced losing people we loved at the same age. It was too young to go through something like that, and I hated that she’d had to experience it too.

  Then it was like I knew exactly what I needed to say. I turned to Sabrina and said, “I lost my mother when I was ten.”

  I saw surprise register in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Phillip.”

  I took a deep breath as I said, “It was honestly one of the worst things I’ve ever had to go through, so I know what it was probably like for you. I mean, it’s not like I think that I know what you went through because I went through something similar. I know you can’t compare the two, but I get it, you know?”

  Shit, I was totally babbling like an idiot. That was probably why I didn’t like to talk as much since I’d gotten sober. I never knew what to say and always ended up looking like a moron when I tried too hard.

  Sabrina gave me a sympathetic smile. “I know what you mean. What happened to your mom? Was she sick?”

  I shook my head. “No, she wasn’t sick.”

  I wasn’t sure I could say what had actually happened to her. The words were usually too hard to get out. I didn’t talk about her much, although I’d never forget exactly what happened the day she died. The images of her death were burned into my mind for all eternity, destined to haunt me into old age.

  The way she’d looked at me from across the street, made eye contact with me, and how she’d mouthed one word. No.

  She’d seen me start to move toward her, to help her, to intervene, and she’d known that was the worst thing I could have done. And it probably was. At the time and for a long time after, I’d blamed myself, figuring that if I could have just gotten to her, I could have knocked the gun out of the man’s hand and saved her. I knew now that wasn’t true, and he probably would have shot me dead before I’d even taken two steps, but my confused ten year-old mind hadn’t seen things that way.

  At the time, though, I’d listened to her. I’d froze as soon as she looked at me and drank in the fact that a guy had a gun to her head. I remembered the look of terror in her eyes and how she’d thrown up her hands in surrender, her purse falling the ground and the contents spilling out. The details were all so clear, even though what happened unfolded in a matter of seconds.

  It was a Tuesday, and I’d been waiting inside the entrance of the studio where I took vocal and piano lessons. It was in a rougher part of Miami, but my teacher was a former Broadway star, so my mother insisted I take lessons from her. She saw the talent I had and that I loved to act and sing, so she’d put me in classes at an early age.

  Every day after school, she’d drive me to my different classes – vocal once a week, piano another, and acting and modeling two days a week. She said that if I was going to do something, I was going to do it right. And I loved every second of my lessons. My mother had been a prima ballerina in the Prague Ballet Company when she was younger, and I’d gotten my love of the stage from her. Performing had always been in my blood.

  A few months aft
er I started my lessons, I heard my parents arguing. My dad didn’t like that I had to go all the way to Miami twice a week. He didn’t think it was safe, but my mom protested. I remember running down the stairs and into the living room, whining about how much I loved Mrs. Lutz, my vocal and piano teacher. She was patient and kind, and she complimented me while I played. I only wanted to take lessons from her.

  My dad relented when he had my mom and me against him, and I forgot about that argument until a year later when my mom came to pick me up from my piano lesson on that random Tuesday. I saw her Range Rover pull up across the street, and I watched her park. She started to get out of the car right as I started to leave the studio. She saw me and smiled, and that was when the man had come out of nowhere and put a gun to her head.

  I could see my mom crying and begging, and that was when I started to cry. I could see the man trying to push her back into the driver’s seat. She was shaking her head and trying to give him the keys, telling him to take the car, to take her purse. He was telling her to shut the fuck up and get in the car.

  I knew what was happening. Car-jackings had been rampant in Miami for years, and people like my mom who drove nice cars, carried expensive bags, and looked like they had money were prime targets. The stories had been all over the news with people being forced to drive to an ATM, empty out their bank accounts, and then the gunman would either leave them or kill them, or worse, sometimes they’d rape a woman and then kill her. Either way, the outcome was always bad, and I knew my mother knew that if she left with the man, she might never come back.

  I think she figured that if she gave him the car and her purse, he’d leave. But he didn’t. When he realized she wasn’t going to get in the car, he got pissed, and within a few seconds his gun went off with a bang that made me jump back in horror. Too shocked to move, I watched my mom’s body crumple as the man scooped up her bag and climbed into the drivers’ seat, leaving her bleeding on the ground as he drove away.