by Kendall Grey
Back and forth I go between them. When I stop for a few seconds to catch my breath, they’re kissing. Not nice and gentle, but rough and unforgiving. Angry man kisses. My favorite kind. Man, I want to see Shades take it up the ass from Rax or Toombs, but it’s not my birthday. Yet.
Eve seems entranced by the aggressive male mouth battle too. I start to wave her over so I can finger bang her, but I remember she doesn’t want to be touched by anyone but Rax, and leave it alone. Damn shame. She has a rockin’ hot body I wouldn’t mind putting my tongue on.
Eve nudges Shades out of the way, and assumes his vacated spot in front of Rax, devouring him, grinding against his dangling, dripping cock. I back away, take Shades by the hand, and say, “You kids have fun. Happy birthday, Eve.”
Rax slams her against the metal, pinning her arms and fumbling with her boy shorts. They don’t seem to notice as we slink toward the Banging Betties bus. Mission accomplished.
The driver is standing outside, talking to another guy, smoking a cigarette. Perfect! As we pass, I say to them, “Holy shit, there’s a couple fucking behind our bus. Seriously hot!” I fan myself with a hand.
The two dudes exchange looks. Shades and I keep going, but I turn around to see if the driver took the bait. Sure enough, after a quick discussion, the two of them head toward our bus, leaving Banging Betties’ unattended. A quick scan of the parking lot assures me the coast is clear. Everyone’s inside watching the gig.
Shades and I sneak up the bus steps and have a look around. Their ride is a lot like ours, but with much more expensive accessories and lots more privacy. Bunks on both sides, a kitchen, common areas in front and back. I peek into the trundle drawers, looking for clothes I’ve seen Lizzie wearing and find a familiar shirt. Bingo! I pull Shades into the bunk and slide the curtain in place. He whips out his dick in .356 seconds while I survey my nemesis’s bedicle. The sheets are rumpled, and it smells like Jillian’s perfume in here.
“That bitch,” I say, not believing my nose.
“What?” Shades demands, thumping my ass with his rigid cock.
And look. A pack of cigarettes tucked under the pillow. The brand Jillian smokes—or used to. I thought she’d quit the leaded variety. Maybe she started again because Lizzie smokes.
I hold up the box for Shades’s inspection. “Jillian’s been in here. This is where she’s been going at night. Smell her perfume?” I wish I could say I was surprised, but I knew it all along.
Shades sighs. “Okay, so she’s been here. So what? I thought we were gonna fuck.”
Much as I’d love to spray paint Lizzie’s bed with a “fuck you” in Letty cum splash deco, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite for sex.
“She’s sleeping with the goddamn enemy, Shades. Fucking bitch sold us out.”
“You’re paranoid. Maybe she’s using Lizzie to spy on Banging Betties. Ever thought about that?”
I shake my head. “I’ve seen how Jillian looks at her.”
Footsteps clack up the stairs. I grab Shades in a death grip. If we get caught in here, we’re done for.
“I understand you’re trying to protect your band,” a male voice booms, “but you need to ease up.” It’s the Banging Betties’ manager. “You’re spending too much time over here, and we both know why. You’re not gonna get any more airtime for Killer Buzz Float on the documentary.”
“I’m not interested in airtime, Richard. And I’m not coming here for them. I’m coming here for me.” Jillian, the lying sack of twat.
A pause follows. “I see. Lizzie.”
The rip of a lighter flint ignites the silence.
“She doesn’t like Letty. If you want to stay on good terms with her, I suggest you find a way to shut your singer up. Take her down about twelve notches.” Dick’s underlying threat is evident.
“I’ll shut her up,” Jillian assures him.
Oh, the hell you will!
Shades urges me to keep quiet with a quick arm squeeze. He can tell I’m cranking up.
“Good. It’ll be better for all of us if you do. You don’t want to piss Lizzie off. She has friends in high places. She could make one phone call and ruin your band,” the pop of snapped fingers resounds down the aisle, along with the smell of burning tobacco, “like that.”
“Then, let’s hope it doesn’t come to blows, shall we?” Jillian’s cool tone makes my stomach roil.
“I know what it’s like to manage these … eccentric personalities,” Dick says. “They have huge egos, and feelings get hurt when one band outdoes another. But Killer Buzz Float needs to remember their place on this tour. They’re second in line to the throne. We’re the queens around here.”
I stifle a snort. Queens, indeed. ASSHOLE.
“It’s about respect,” he continues, his words thickening with threat. “I let Killer Buzz Float come on to this tour in good faith. Now, I want them to back the fuck off. We won’t be upstaged.”
Is he fucking kidding? Hold on while I pull out my tiny violin and thrash her shit like a T. rex preparing a shake-and-bake triceratops. Aw, the poor Betties don’t like competition? Well, I’ve got a pair of leaded boxing gloves I’ve been dying to break in. Bring. It. On.
“I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” Jillian assures him. “Let me grab my cigarettes, and we can head back. I think Lizzie borrowed them.”
Shit! As her footsteps near, I throw the sheet over Shades and me, and push the smokes close to the edge of the bed. The curtain slides open, a hand reaches in, and Jillian grabs the pack without comment. I can’t make out more than vague shapes through the covers, but I don’t think she saw us.
“Be very clear. No more confrontations. No more trying to upstage us,” Dick warns.
“They know their place.” It’s a good thing Jillian’s voice is moving away because if I hear her kissing this motherfucker’s ass one more time, I’ll jump into the aisle, tackle her, and beat the living fuck out of her, tour be damned.
As soon as their footsteps quiet, and their voices trail into silence outside, I slip out of the bunk. Shades follows, stuffing his now limp dick in his pants and zipping up. He smooths his hair into place and sighs. “Letty—”
“Don’t even. You heard what they said. He wants us to ‘remember our place’ and dial back on our music so they can shine? Fuck that, Shades. It’s an insult to The Rock. I’ll never give it less than 100 percent. The day I fake it is the day you bury my ass.”
He guides me down the aisle, keeping low to the floor in case anyone outside sees us. The coast is clear. We book off the bus real fast like and head toward our own.
“I get it, pussycat. I do. But this tour is a chance for us to prove ourselves. Our big break could come out of this.”
I stop and square off with Shades. “So, you’re saying we should bow to this bullshit? Let them have all the limelight because ‘we’re not worthy of it’?” I’m fuming.
“Not at all. But if you want to get ahead in this business, you have to play the game and follow the rules, even when they’re fucking stupid.”
“Oh, so it’s okay for us to bow meekly before a band that can’t even fucking play instruments because their manager says we’re off the tour if we don’t? Dude, they squirted out their bullshit album like a Montezuma’s Revenge drive-by on crutches, sprayed some Febreze on it, and acted like it was fucking Grammy-worthy. That’s not music. It’s overproduced diarrhea with E. coli garnish. How do people not see it?”
“But their fans like it,” Shades says. “And they have a lot more fans than we do.”
“It’s shit.”
“Maybe. But it’s also what sells. You wanna make art or you wanna make money?”
I stomp my foot. “Both.” We’re good enough. We’ve busted our asses. We’ve paid our dues.
We deserve both, goddammit.
Shades brushes my cheek, and his face falls. Reminds me of the piteous looks people get when they tell others they have cancer. “You know as well as I do it doesn’t work that way.”
/> “Yeah? Well, Richard can fuck himself if he thinks for one second I’ll bow to his little bitch simply because she has more money and more pull than I do. Ain’t nothing ever gonna change the fact that she’s a shit musician. Which gives me all the more reason to blow her ass away on stage tomorrow night. And the night after. And every fucking night until the Grim Reaper comes to take me away.” I turn to the stars above, give them my two middle fingers and scream, “You’ll never take The Rock outta this girl, motherfuckers! NEVER!”
I swear on The Rock and all that’s holy, I will die before I bow to Lizzie Smith and her doctrine of incompetence. I’d rather lose everything I worked for, burn every bridge, and go out in a blaze of motherfucking glory than submit to this bullshittery.
I’m donning my shitkickers. Bitch better be ready because Letty Dillinger ain’t going down without a fight.
Dance with the Devil
I didn’t get any lovin’ last night after the shit I overheard on Banging Betties’ bus. I couldn’t let go of my anger. Shades said he understood, but it feels like I added another layer of stress to our already stressed relationship. When will I learn?
Jillian’s acting very … cool this morning. It’s all I can do not cut loose and go banshee on her, but I’m keeping my temper on a short leash. I’m gonna give her a chance to come clean if she will.
Leaning against the “kitchen” cupboard, she pours a cup of black coffee and sips. I grab a dry powdered sugar donut and settle my ass into my bunk, catty-corner to her and stare. She stares back. Neither of us says anything for a while.
She’s the first to break the silence. “What were you doing in Lizzie’s bunk last night, Letty?”
I choke on my breakfast, spewing white powder in every direction. I wipe my mouth and fix my most accusing gaze on her. “Spying on you. What else?”
She nods curtly.
“You have nothing to say? I thought you were gonna ‘shut me up.’” I make air quotes, dropping sugar snowflakes all over my lap.
I can’t decipher her poker face. Ever since we hooked up with Banging Betties, it’s gotten harder and harder to read her. She’s just … flat. Except when Lizzie’s around.
“Megamusic TV sent a documentary crew to follow the bands on this tour,” Jillian states, carefully neutral.
“Yeah, I saw them yesterday. Also noticed that Anna chick has her tongue so firmly implanted in Lizzie’s asshole, she’ll need a pair of pliers and a gallon of lube to remove it. Your point?” I stuff the remains of the donut in my mouth and dust my hands over the floor.
Jillian sighs. Disgust shadows her sunken cheeks. There’s my old girl. She sets her coffee cup down on the counter and leans close to me. “My point is you need to be on your best behavior when they come knocking.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “Because your buddy Dick doesn’t like it when I upset his little princess? Fuck him. Fuck her. And fuck you.” I stand, eager to brawl, so full of attitude I’m probably glowing red.
A wave of pink ignites her glower in perfect time with the heavy exhale bowing her nostrils. She gets up in my grill, and I’m ready to rumble, fists pumping at my sides.
“Listen to me and listen good.” Her voice drops with deadly calm, but the steam pouring off her paints a different picture. “You do not want to tangle with him, her, and especially not me. I’ve put up with your attitude on this bus for almost a year. I’ve held your hand through the rough times. I’ve kicked your ass when you deserved it. I pushed you to the top when you wanted to quit. You fuck this up now, and you can find yourself a new manager. I’m sick of cleaning up your messes, Letty.”
What the fuck got into her?
“Messes? I make the messes around here? Who’s banging the Betty over on that tour bus?” I point out the window to the pink lipstick tube on wheels. “Who sold us out so she could suck that Betty’s dick, huh? What’s the allure, Jillian?” I cross my arms and shift weight between my feet. “She must be giving you some goooood head to get you to turn against your own band.
“I got an idea. Since you’re doing so much for them, how about you go over there and join their little Cult of the Inept and Shameless? Then you can have your Betty 24/7 and you’ll never have to put up with my sucky attitude again.”
“Don’t. Tempt me,” she hisses the words between clenched teeth.
“Whoa.” Jinx approaches, hands out, ready to split us up. “What’s going on?”
I keep my sights targeted on Jillian and sneer. “Why don’t you ask her?”
A knock on the door interrupts our fracas. Great timing because I was seriously about to tear a bitch up, and I ain’t talking about Jinx’s pussy.
Jillian steps back and cocks her head to the side with a quick jerk. Toombs calls from the front of the bus, “Documentary crew …?”
And just like that, Jillian’s composed, calm, and smiling. “Yeah, let them in.” She walks to the front, leaving me a pissy, sputtering mess.
Jinx grasps my upper arms. “You gonna tell me what happened?”
This is the first time we’ve talked since our sexcapades yesterday, which peppers things with an extra shake of awkward. “Later.” I start for the door to get some fresh air, but she stops me.
“Now.” Jinx nods toward the back of the bus. I huff and follow her while Jillian makes like everything is peaches and cream at the front end. Rax and Eve tumble out of their bunk and join the party, curious, bed-headed. I vaguely wonder what kind of nastiness they achieved behind the bus last night. Shades steps out of the shower behind Jinx and me, dragging the scent of the latest flavor of Axe shower gel to my nose, and snaps a towel around his waist before I get a good look at his peen.
“What’s all the yelling about?” he asks. Water tames his dark hair, dribbles down his chest, and disappears into the white terry cloth hugging his hips. What I wouldn’t give to be one of those droplets on a mission to infiltrate the towel’s defenses …
I shake my head and glance at Jillian, laughing and schmoozing with Anna, the reporter, and her camera guy. Shades follows my gaze, and he straightens. “Want me to get rid of them?”
“No. I’ll play nice.” At least, while the camera rolls.
Eliza ascends the stairs with Gabrielle on her hip. She catches Shades’s eye and waves. He returns the gesture, then looks at me. “I’m gonna get dressed and see Gabrielle for a few minutes. Okay?”
The hope in his raised brows beats down the rising jealousy, and I calmly remind myself he loves me. “Yeah, go ahead.”
Shades kisses me quickly, shrugs into a T-shirt and jeans, and kisses me again, longer this time. Much better. I visually bite into his tight ass as he makes his way to Gabrielle. He takes her from Eliza and rubs noses with her. His bright white smile beams like a lightsaber.
Okay, maybe a man with a baby is a turn-on. Especially a hot, tattooed rock star man with a baby.
Jinx sits me down on the couch, out of view from the rest of the crew. By the sound of it, Anna’s interviewing the guys. It’s doubtful they’ll hear us talking back here.
“About yesterday—”
“We’re not supposed to talk about Birthday Club,” I say.
Jinx covers my hand with hers. “I need to. Just this once, and I’ll drop it.” She focuses on the floor as she continues. “I wanted to say thank you. I mean, not only for the …” She pauses. Blushes. Bites her bottom lip and holds it down for a few beats. “Not only for what you did for me—which was great—but for what you did for Toombs.”
“Toombs? What’d I do for him?” I’m truly puzzled. Seemed like all the doing came from his end. Those beads … Meee-ow!
She lifts her chin, and a pair of warm brown orbs settle on me. “You made it … comfortable. You let him know everything was okay. With me. With us. With … I don’t know.” She pauses and closes her lids for a few seconds before continuing. “He needs things I can’t give him. You and Rax, you filled a … gap.”
I bust out laughing. Damn, if that wasn’t a
Freudian slip. “Yeah, Rax filled a gap, all right.”
I track the blush splashing from the top of her head, down her shoulders, until it disappears under her tank top. No bra. The outlines of the barbells through her nipples give me a lady stiffy. I lick my lips, temporarily forgetting about how pissed I am at Jillian.
“I didn’t mean like that,” she says softly. She hesitates. “Just know I appreciated what you did. For both of us.”
“No problem. And there’s always next time. If Birthday Club continues, I’m up to bat in a few weeks. Feel free to slip me a quick text outlining your secret fantasies. I’d certainly take them into consideration.” Shit. Though I meant to make a joke, the proposition was too forward of me. I value Jinx’s friendship more than what she can do for me sexually. Although, sexually speaking, having a taste of her a couple of times a year would be awesome.
“I—I might.”
Gulp. “Wow, Jinx, you’re full of surprises.”
She sprouts a wry grin. “So are you.” She fiddles with my hair and drops her gaze to my mouth where it lingers a little longer than necessary. Giddy girly giggles tickle the pit of my stomach into a frenzy. Fuck me, we are gonna have FUN on my birthday.
“If Toombs needs help getting you to squirt again, let me know. I’m happy to offer my services any time. In a professional capacity, of course.”
She exhales dreamily. “That was … incredible. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve got the magic touch.” She shivers and rubs the goosebumps sprouting on her arms.
The nuclear reactor between my legs heats up. “I think it’s best we stop this conversation now before it runs off the track, and I shamelessly molest you on this couch,” I advise, half-joking, half-serious.
She nods. “Yeah. Good idea. Change of topic. Jillian.” She looks as if she’s trying to convince herself to move on. I’m right there with her.
Jillian … Jillian …
Oh, right! Jillian. The bitch.
