by Kat Mizera
“Let’s go clean up,” I suggested softly.
“Will you carry me?” she whispered. “I don’t think I can stand just yet.”
“Of course.” I got to my feet and gently scooped her up, careful of her red bottom. “Bath?” I asked.
“That sounds lovely.” Our gazes locked and then she buried her face in my chest.
We had two games over the next three days, so it was busy and I was glad for our intense lovemaking because Lexi was on the phone almost constantly. She was worried about her upcoming meeting with the record company and was spending all her time coming up with a plan with her agent and attorney. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day sometimes, especially when it came to sex, although I had managed to discover that fisting her hair while I fucked her did all kinds of things to her. She got off on that little bit of pain and it was hot as hell, but I wasn’t sure what to do next. I’d had a fair amount of sex, but I’d been telling the truth when I said I’d never been all that adventurous.
On the flight east, I sat next to Jamie. He was bisexual and married to one of the players on the team, Viggo Sjoberg. Though Jamie was an assistant coach now after an injury to his wrist made it impossible for him to continue playing, he also was part owner of a Las Vegas sex club called Club Inferno. I’d only been there for private parties given by Jamie and Viggo, never when it was open for regular business, so I didn’t know a lot about it. However, I had a feeling he might be able to help me with this new dilemma with Lexi.
“Hey.” He looked up from whatever he was doing on his computer.
“You got a minute?”
“Of course.”
“This is personal, not team-related.”
Viggo gave me a smile and lumbered to his feet. “I’m going to join the poker game in the back.”
“You don’t have to go,” I said.
“It’s okay.” Viggo was a buff, redheaded Swede with a wonky sense of humor and a great work ethic. He disappeared down the aisle without a backward glance and I looked at Jamie, trying to figure out how to ask about what I wanted to know.
“What’s up?” he asked curiously.
“What would it entail for me to get a couple of guest passes to the club?”
Jamie frowned a little. “It would depend on what kind of passes. If you just want to come and see everything, have a few drinks at the bar, but not participate in anything, then you just have to ask. If you actually want to play around with sexual aspects of the club, then there are forms to fill out, a medical exam, and a few extra steps.”
“I think…” I hesitated. “I think Lexi would be more comfortable just looking around. This is about…exploration. Neither of us is into BDSM or anything, but I thought maybe if we went together it would be fun for us to see what there is to see.”
“Oh, no problem.” He grinned. “I’ll take care of it. Just text me what day you want to go and your name will be at the door.”
“I thought we could just hang out one night, a busy night, so she could see everything, and depending on how she reacts, we could decide if we want to try the other stuff… Is that weird?” I made a face as I finally looked at him.
Then we both laughed and Jamie shook his head. “It’s not weird. There’s no shame in asking and being curious. You’re both young. You’re, what, twenty-three?”
“I will be in May.”
“And how old is she?”
“She’ll be twenty-three later this year.”
“Yeah, you’re both young. Plenty of time to explore everything.” He paused. “Anything else?”
I took a breath. “I heard you’re into spanking. Is that true?”
Jamie gave me a little grin, telling me he was enjoying this conversation far more than I was. “Absolutely true. Wanna ask Viggo?”
“No!” I huffed out a laugh. “But I have a question about that too. I mean, I’ve swatted a woman on the behind. No biggie. But how do you know when it’s enough? Beyond her asking you to stop.”
He was thoughtful. “Part of it is experience, part of it is knowing your partner, and part of it is instinct. What sounds is she making? Is she wet? I mean, you have to know her, get a feel for what makes her tick. And honestly? The easiest thing? Just ask. Still good, babe? Harder? Let’s not go any further tonight. Stuff like that.”
“Common sense, right?”
“It’s not common sense for everyone, so you’re smart to ask. And as you spend more time together, you’ll get to know everything about each other’s sexual needs.”
“I feel like there’s a lot porn doesn’t teach us guys.”
Jamie chuckled. “A whole lot. You’re better off asking your partner, or barring that, asking someone like me. I’m not shy, nor is there anything wrong with wanting to learn. You can come to me any time.”
“Thank you.”
Coach Wylde came over to us. “Mind if I steal Jamie from you?” he asked. “We have some work to do.”
“Not at all. I think there’s a poker game going on.” I glanced toward the back.
Coach Wylde made a face. “Yeah, they wiped me out already. I had to get up before I started giving guys days off instead of money.”
The abrupt end to the conversation gave me an easy out but left me with a lot to think about. I was willing to do anything and everything, but mostly I didn’t want her to be disappointed, which wasn’t something I’d ever worried about before with regard to sex. Lexi and I were growing up in more ways than one.
9
Lexi
Monday’s meeting was a disaster. Even though my attorney had the video of Tayla jumping me backstage after a show, which clearly showed me minding my own business, signing an autograph for a fan and not provoking her, the record company’s legal counsel said it wasn’t enough. My attorney had gotten phone records showing texts from both Tayla and Marj, threatening to kill me, push me off the stage during a performance, and have their boyfriends gangbang me, but the record company insisted they would have a discussion with them, that this was nothing more than the quirks of immature divas. There were nasty voice mails, messages on social media, and even an interview with Rolling Stone where Tayla said I was the reason the last Kay—Annie—had killed herself. Yet nothing seemed to matter.
Even with all of that evidence, the record company’s attorneys continued to point out line after line of the contract, and it was pretty ironclad. I was practically in tears by the time it was over even though Tawdra was doing her best to soothe me. The one concession we’d gotten was that the record company would spring for a personal bodyguard for just me, one of my choosing, whose sole responsibility would be to protect me—even from the other girls in the band, if necessary.
I was still beyond upset, though, and nearly burst out crying the moment I heard Zaan’s voice on the phone that night.
“Hey.” He answered on the first ring. “What happened?”
I gave him a summary of events and he sighed. “Let me help you, Lex. What if I hired another attorney, someone from outside the entertainment industry, someone that wouldn’t be biased?”
“I can’t let you do that,” I said, sniffling. “I have to figure this out myself, Zaan.”
“Why? I thought we were each other’s everything?”
“We are, but that would be like me finding someone to help you with one of your contracts. You’re handling your career and I’m going to handle mine.”
“So you’re just going back out on the road with them?”
“It’s only two months.”
“We just got back together and you’re going to leave again?”
“I don’t know!” I snapped, frustration rushing through me. “If I don’t fulfill my contract, they could withhold all my royalties, everything. I can’t just destroy my life over two months of touring.”
He sighed. “Okay, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t want to fight about this, especially not on the phone.”
“I’m sorry too. I�
�m really upset right now.”
“I’ll see you in a week or so and we’ll figure it out, okay?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I stayed in L.A. until the following Sunday, seeing some friends, doing a bunch of shopping and trying to relax a little. There didn’t appear to be anything I could do about the remaining two months of the tour with Special Kay, and though I owed them another album, Tawdra had said she thought I could buy my way out of that part of the contract. None of this was good news, so I consoled myself with shopping. I did so much, in fact, I rented a car to drive back to Las Vegas because I would’ve needed another suitcase. Not that buying a suitcase was a big deal, but I hadn’t driven in a long time and was itching to get behind the wheel. Especially since I wanted to buy a car.
I’d done a lot of growing up while on the road, but I’d missed out on a lot of things too. Like driving, hanging out with friends, dating… There were a lot of pieces of the pie that were missing and I hoped to make up for some of that now that I had the time. Because the tour had been abruptly stopped, the record company was scrambling to get us back on track and reschedule the dates we’d missed, so I had a little time until that happened. Mostly, I wanted Zaan to get home because even though I had my family, I honestly didn’t have many people I could count on.
Other than my best friend back in Minnesota, Lindsey, I didn’t have any other close girlfriends. Tawdra and I were close, but that was a professional relationship, just like my relationship with Casey. I loved Mack, but she was more like my mom. Beyond that, there wasn’t anyone I wanted to spend quality time with. All the other women in my life were merely acquaintances.
Mostly, I had guy friends, like Declan and Tyler, the bass player from Pretty Harts. But it would be weird to call Declan now that Zaan and I were back together, and he and Tyler were attached at the hip most of the time. I was friends with both of them, though. We kept up with each other on social media, and I was so damn anxious to talk to someone in the music business, someone who understood on a deeper level, I opted to call Tyler anyway. He’d tell me if Declan was with him, so I could avoid uncomfortable topics if necessary.
I dug out his number and tapped my foot while it rang.
“Lexi!” Tyler sounded happy to hear from me, which was nice.
“Hey.” I smiled to myself.
“How’s it going?”
“Truthfully, my life is a fucking shitshow right now.”
“Girl, you’re a hot mess. And I say that with love.”
I laughed. “I know. But this situation with Special Kay is enough to make me want to smack the lot of them.”
“I take it you’re not going to be able to get out of your contract.”
“No.” I sighed. “It really fucking sucks.”
“Can I do anything?”
“I don’t think so. I can’t imagine spending two more months on the road with them.”
“I’m sorry. If you think of any way I can help, though, just let me know.”
“Come on tour with us and kick all their asses?”
He chuckled. “I will if you thought that will work.”
“Probably not. Dammit.”
He paused. “So you and that hockey player… You’re back together?”
“Yes.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
“How does he feel about all of this?”
“He doesn’t want me to have anything to do with them, obviously, but it doesn’t look like I have a choice.”
Talking to Tyler was different than talking to Zaan or even my parents. He truly understood and he’d read between the lines quickly. He’d lived life on the road. He understood the pressure of writing hit songs, of pushing back against expectations from the record label, and though he hadn’t had any major issues with the members of his band, he’d seen firsthand some of what I went through. During our eight weeks on tour together, I’d spent almost all of my time with Pretty Harts instead of my own band, and it had saved my sanity.
“I hate this for you,” he said softly.
“You know what they were like,” I said. “And it never changed. Night after night, it was insane.” I told him details I hadn’t told anyone else, about the way they hated me for writing hit songs, for playing piano and acoustic guitar in addition to singing, even for being a natural blonde, which made no sense at all. Tyler understood these specific issues, the jealousy and dynamics within a band, in a way Zaan and my dad couldn’t.
“You’ve got this,” Tyler told me after I’d finished. “I mean, it’s going to suck, and there’s no way around that, but you need to make a calendar and mark off every day, until you’re done. You’ll get through this.”
“Thanks. I’m kind of freaking out right now.”
“It’s going to be okay. I’ll fly out for a few shows, hang out with you before and after, if you want. I’d bring Bash along, but that might be awkward, right?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. We’re still friends, and frankly, I can use all the support you’ve got right now.”
“If I were you, I’d get back on the road sooner rather than later. Just get it done.”
“It depends on availability for all the shows we’ve missed so far. I’m afraid this is going to drag out indefinitely.”
“It won’t. And seriously, let me know that schedule when you have it. I’ll fly out, hang with you for a few dates here and there.”
“Thanks, Ty. You’re a good friend.”
“You have so much talent, girlfriend, this is going to be nothing but a blip on your radar a year from now.”
“I hope so. The thing is, I don’t want to do pop anymore. It’s all so…sweet. I want harder, edgy. I want to do rock but I don’t know how to make that change. Will people care? Will they listen to new music from someone they know as the bubblegum pop singer?”
“I think with the right band, the right situation, you’ll find your following. It will also depend on the songs.” He paused. “But you have hundreds of those, don’t you?”
I laughed. “I do. Including two co-written with you and Bash.” Though I’d called him Declan in private, I stuck to Bash when talking about him to people who knew him.
“Well, we can talk more about stuff when I see you. Now that Pretty Harts is essentially done, I’ll have lots of free time and I’d love to collaborate on a project.”
“I’d like that too,” I said. “Casey’s coming to town in a few weeks and we’re going to hook up if I’m still here. Maybe we can all have dinner or something.”
“Consider it a date. I’ll talk to you soon, Lex.”
“Bye.” I hung up thoughtfully. Working on a project with Tyler and Bash could be fun. Even if we just released one song, something we’d written together, it could be a one-off that would give me a foot in the door to the rock world. People thought of me as the bubbly, blond singer of Special Kay. Our songs were sweet and happy, with fun lyrics and melodies people could dance to. A modern-day Spice Girls with a little Kelly Clarkson and Katy Perry thrown in for good measure. I was more Lzzy Hale combined with Pat Benatar. Hard rock was what I loved, what I wanted to do, but change was hard, both personally and professionally, and I was doing a shit ton of both. Between starting over with Zaan and going back to square one with my music, I was pulled in a lot of directions.
Hopefully, I’d be able to finish the tour and put everything about Special Kay behind me so I could focus on the good things I had in my life.
By the time Zaan got back from his road trip, I’d moved into his condo, but the excitement had waned, knowing I was leaving again. While I wanted to show him that I was serious about our relationship and wanted to make it work, I had a feeling he didn’t believe me. He wanted to provide the kind of love and stability I hadn’t had while I’d been with Special Kay, and I loved him even more for it, but I had to close that chapter of my life completely before I could focus on the future we were building
. We both had a lot going on professionally, which made this difficult for us, and there was no doubt he wasn’t happy about me going back out on the road.
I was so glad he was home, though, and had pretty much attacked him the minute he walked through the door. It was late and he was probably tired, but he hadn’t hesitated to take me to bed. Now we were lying there in the aftermath, wrapped in each other’s arms, and for a short time, all the craziness in my life melted away. His touch still did that to me, one of a billion things I loved about him.
“Please tell me you’re not traveling again soon,” I whispered as he stroked my back.
“Not for a few days, but then we have a West Coast trip for five days.”
“Ugh.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I understand, but I might have to leave soon too and I want to spend every second together.”
He pressed a soft kiss on my lips, letting it linger without deepening it. “That’s why I wanted you to move in, so we can spend every minute we can together.”
“I know.” I ran my hands along his back, loving the feel of warm skin over hard, rippling muscle. He’d been strong and sexy when we met, but he was something else now, a kind of sexy that made my mouth water.
“You angling to go again?” he teased, his eyes finding mine in the semidarkness.
I chuckled. “I’ve apparently turned into a nympho the last few years.”
“I like it,” he said. “But I’m exhausted, doll. Can we sleep first and make love again in the morning?”
“Of course.” I snuggled into his chest. I really hadn’t been angling for more sex. I craved his touch and attention more than anything, and he didn’t seem to mind. “It’s so nice just being here together. I keep thinking the bubble is going to burst, you know?”
“Why?” He looked down at me now in surprise.
“I don’t know. You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true.”
“We’ve already gone through the rough stuff, doll. Now we just have to figure out what we want, both short- and long-term.”
