I only started to worry once she started leaving with her new fans, following in the steps of her brother, rewarding groupies with a special night of passion. “Aren’t you worried?” I asked her one day as I cleaned down the bar where she nursed straight whiskey.
“About what?”
I shrugged. “Picking the wrong one.”
She laughed. “Who cares? I’m not looking for Mr. Right. Mr. Right Now suits me just fine. That’s all any guy is good for anyway. You should know that.”
My eyes shot to hers. “What do you mean?”
“Come on. You wear your scars in plain sight, girl. Your tough girl act doesn’t fool me. You’ve been hurt. So you should know that men are only good for one thing, and it sure as hell ain’t some happily ever after. Get yours and let them wear the heartache for a while. It’ll do ‘em good,” she added as she watched a cowboy in tight jeans walk by. “God, I love a cowboy. So much fun to ride.” She grinned.
“I wouldn’t know,” I clipped as I kept working. We were on Day 47 of my probationary period. I wasn’t about to get written up for idle chit-chat.
“Oh, come on,” she prodded. “You have to have a type. Clearly you don’t like musicians. Smart,” she said. “What kind of fella gets Lacy’s motor running?”
I shrugged. “None.”
Her eyebrow arched. “So you’re into chicks?” she asked. “No judgments. I like to cross the fence every now and again myself. I couldn’t give dick up for long, though. There’s just something about it, you know what I mean?”
I couldn’t even meet her gaze. She gasped out loud. “Get the fuck out of town. You’re a virgin?”
I cringed at the way that she said it, like it was some kind of incurable disease. “A little louder next time. I don’t think they heard you in Houston.”
She clasped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m just surprised. I mean look at you.” She shook her head in wonder. “Well, no wonder you’re so pissed off, girl. You need to get you some.”
Doyle Quinlan flashed in my mind’s eye and I shuddered. “No, thanks.”
The longer Jacinda stared at me, the more she put two and two together. Her voice was soft as she continued. “I get it, okay? But not all men are monsters. Douche bags and morons, but not monsters.” She reached across the bar to take my hand in hers. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”
I smiled. No one aside from my mother, and of course, Lucas, knew about what had happened with Doyle. That Jacinda accepted it where Lucas hadn’t endeared her to me even more. For the first time since BJ I felt like I had a true friend. I squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, in lieu of the hug we couldn’t share over the bar.
“Is this a private party or can anyone join?” Tony Paul asked from behind.
Jacinda glared at him. “Don’t you have something better to do besides pester the help?”
He leaned in towards her with a teasing smirk. “I’m not the one getting all handsy, Sis.”
“You’re just jealous she likes me better than you,” she said as she stuck out her tongue. “I got to first base and you aren’t even out on the field.”
“Forty-three more days,” he answered with a widening smirk before he sauntered off.
I glared after him. “Yeah, tell me again what I’m missing.”
“They’re not all like Tony Paul.”
“Just thank God you don’t have to fend off his advances.”
She made a face. “Ew!” We both laughed. “I tell you what. In 43 days, we’ll start hanging out all the time, that way it’ll double his work and slash his interest by half.”
I stared into those hopeful dark eyes. Maybe she needed a friend just as much as I did. “Deal,” I said.
As it turned out, the next 43 days were stacked solid. In the summer of 2008, Gaynell Hollis had one objective: getting cozy with East Coast record producer, Jasper Carrington. His company, Carrington Entertainment, was behind some of the hottest acts in music. One band in particular, Dreaming in Blue, had recently benefited from a major media push, vaulting them from a cover band playing bars, to international superstars. They released the video for their Top Twenty hit, “Wanting Her,” in the early part of the year, and nothing had stopped their rise among female fans ever since. Most of that had to do with the lead singer, Giovanni Carnevale, who was billed as “walking sex,” by several (mostly female) music critics.
When Southern Nights landed an Austin Meet and Greet with said sex god, it turned the whole joint upside down. Gay prepared to impress the pants off of Jasper Carrington, so the whole place was cleaned from top to toe, which actually worked out great for me because it meant overtime, whether it was balancing on a ladder to clean the lighting fixtures or polishing every single inch of brass in the place.
That meant I was there every grueling minute of the hours and hours spent while the Hollis Five rehearsed daily. Gay drove them all to their limit, leaving all of them spent and cranky before they even performed.
I even got a reprieve from Tony Paul’s relentless countdown. He had other things to think about, especially if he wanted to follow in Giovanni Carnevale’s footsteps. Gay overhauled his whole image, mirroring the kind of image that Jasper had crafted for Giovanni, with a touch of Texas rounding it out. Whereas Giovanni wore leather, Tony Paul wore jeans. Giovanni had a halo of long, tousled hair, Tony Paul wore a straw cowboy hat tipped down over one eye. Giovanni went barefoot, but Tony Paul had a worn pair of cowboy boots. Giovanni went shirtless, so Tony Paul started tearing open his Western shirts by their convenient snaps, baring his chest inch by inch all the way to the navel, without ditching the shirt altogether.
He also wore a Texas state flag bandana folded and hanging out of his front pocket, to draw the eye to the package in his pants that he wasn’t ashamed to put on display.
Gay got the message: Sex Sells. Jacinda’s denim shorts and skirts got shorter and the songs got even naughtier. As a result, Tony Paul had no shortage of screaming groupies after every show to keep him busy. He seemed far more focused on keeping their interest than developing mine, which was fine by me.
I had enough to keep me busy. The overtime kept me hopping about ten hours a day for a week solid, which I hoped would give me the money I needed to buy the guitar at the local pawn shop I wanted. Now that we were caught up on the bills, I had a little extra spending money. All I wanted was my own guitar so I could figure out how to record my songs. I had picked up a few chords when performing with Lucas, but he barely let me handle Nadine or Mabel. Those were his babies. After taking my time to find one I wanted, I could see why. It was like picking a boyfriend. We were going to be spending a lot of time together, so I wanted something that fit me, that spoke to me. I didn’t have a preference of acoustic over electric until I saw the cobalt blue beauty with the shimmery finish hanging high on the wall of the last pawn shop I tried. With the check I’d get after my epic workweek, I could afford to get it as well as an amplifier.
I was so thrilled when I picked up the check, Tony Paul couldn’t resist making a comment about it as we ended up exiting the club together. “Is that a full paycheck in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you ever quit?”
He was shameless. “Nope. It’s one of my finer qualities.”
“That’s debatable.” I started toward my car. He was quick to follow.
“You are one tough nut to crack, I’ll give you that. What’s your deal, anyway? Got a jealous ol’ man at home?”
“That’s exactly it,” I lied easily. “Do yourself a favor and stop now before he breaks both of your legs.”
“Eh,” he dismissed. “You can just teach me how to pop wheelies in my wheelchair.”
I spun around. “God, don’t you get it? I’m not interested.”
He leaned closer. “Bullshit. I’ve seen you watching me during the shows. You’re interested. I’m interested. We can play this game for my mom’
s sake but you know as soon as the next fourteen days are over, you’ll eventually come out to play. Unless, of course, you’re holding out for Vanni.”
I glared at him. “Is that really the kind of girl you think I am?”
For a moment, he dared to be sincere. “I don’t know what kind of girl you are. I’m trying to find out, but you’re not making it easy.”
“You want easy, sleep with a groupie.”
“I’ve done that,” he said. “Repeatedly.” His finger lifted a tendril of long hair from my shoulder. “So tell me why I can’t stop thinking about you.”
For a split second, my soul warmed to the praise. I had to remind myself it was just another line and he was just another musician. “Because you’re an entitled little brat who can’t stand to be told no?” I suggested as I whipped my hair back over my shoulder. “I’m not on the menu, Romeo. So stop asking.”
I turned back to the car to unlock it. “You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. But I bet I can get you to jump into my arms without ever asking saying a word,” he said.
I chortled. “Yeah, right.”
Quick as a flash, he slipped the envelope with my paycheck out of my back pocket. He stepped backward, holding it high above his head where I had to jump for it.
“What are you doing?” I squealed before doing exactly that. He was so tall, I practically had to leap two feet to reach it.
He easily grabbed me in his arms, holding me close to his body. “Proving a point,” he said as he stared into my face.
I felt myself flush. His body felt rock solid next to mine. Every sinewy muscle flexed under me as he held me up against his chest. I had seen that chest on display a lot that last week, where he perfected his seductive move for the audience again and again, so I was acutely aware of every contour as my soft curves fit against him. It scrambled my brain. I couldn’t form a coherent thought.
“You hiss and spit because no one has ever taught you to purr,” he murmured as his eyes locked on my lips. I gasped how that sent a volt of electricity through my entire core. “I could teach you everything you want to know.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I managed in a shaky voice.
“From boys,” he dismissed. “Feel me, Lacy. Am I a boy?”
His body moved against me and I practically jumped back out of his arms. “Give me my check!” I demanded.
His smirk deepened. “Pay the toll,” he said as he stepped closer.
In response, I lifted my knee toward his groin. He blocked it before he chuckled and handed over the check.
“You win this round, Lacy,” he said. “But only because I don’t want to get you fired.”
I practically growled in frustration. “Then why are you always trying to get me in trouble by coming on to me? Your mom will have my head if she sees me out here talking to you.”
He shook his head. “I know how to handle my mom, don’t you worry.” His eyes twinkled. “But it is refreshing to hear you admit that’s why you keep me at arm’s length.”
My hand itched to slap him right across his arrogant face. “That’s not why.”
His finger brushed my chin. I tried to slap it away but missed. “Tell that to the blush in your cheeks, sweetheart. That’s the flush of a passionate, hot-blooded woman who wants to be held, who longs to be kissed. Face it. You love the chase as much as I do.”
The soft way he spoke was doing a number on my already overwrought nerves. It only made me madder. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “But I’m not wrong.”
I sneered at him. “What makes you so sure?”
He leaned forward and I was rooted to the spot as his face hovered an inch above my own. “Because you have your check and you haven’t left yet,” he said softly with a shit-eating grin. I gasped in shock as he planted a peck on my upturned nose. He gave me a mock salute before he turned on his heel and sauntered over to his car. He peeled out of the parking lot and I used that opportunity to scream in frustration.
What a cocky… arrogant… self-absorbed… entitled…
I screamed again when I ran out of words.
My brain processed the entire scene over and over again on the way to the bank to cash my check. I replayed it in various ways, most of which ended with me telling him what an asshole he was. A couple ended with my knee in his groin. If he thought I would ever willingly give in to him, he had another thing coming.
Yet in the midst of my anger and righteous indignation, there was a spark of curiosity that returned, more than once, to thought of what it felt like to be held in his arms. I could still feel the imprint of his body against me. Warmth rushed through me all the way to my center. It reminded me of Christopher so long ago.
But Tony Paul was right about one thing. Christopher had been just a boy. Tony Paul was all man… and not a scary man like Doyle Quinlan. Unlike that creep Doyle, I had actually, for the briefest, tiniest, smallest of seconds, wanted to know what it would be like if Tony Paul had kissed me.
I shuddered in spite of myself. Then I decided it was best I forgot all about the upsetting encounter altogether. I headed to the pawn shop to purchase the guitar I had christened Cobie, for her rich blue finish.
I was no guitarist by far, nor did I really have any interest to be. I used it as a songwriting tool only. I violated my “No Lucas Thoughts” rule to remember what he tried to teach me as I picked at the strings and familiarized myself with the sounds.
I was so engrossed I practically missed the alarm on my phone to let me know it was time to get ready for work. For the first time in ten days, I wanted to blow it off just so I could stay home and play. But that wasn’t the way things worked in the Abernathy household anymore. I had a job to do and money to earn. That came first.
The songs and melodies stayed with me as I worked my shift that night. I hummed to myself as I worked, just to keep the songs fresh in my head. Every now and then I’d look around for Tony Paul, sure he’d catch me and call my bluff that I didn’t sing, but he made himself scarce.
In fact, he made himself scarce nearly two weeks straight. Every night some guy would make a remark from the bar and I’d whirl around, sure it was Tony Paul. I was ready with a comeback to tell him where to stick it, but time after time, the retort would die on my lips as I stared into the faces of complete strangers.
I found myself seeking him out, to see where he was. He was hard at work with the rehearsals and the performances, so he was there every night, doing his sex god routine, but he never even glanced my direction at the bar.
I thought maybe, finally, he got the hint that nothing would happen so he gave up pursuing me in order to take advantage of his growing horde of groupies. But quizzically he was ignoring them too. He’d sing to them from the stage, but he generally left the club with someone in his family, rather than the girl(s) de jour.
The day before the big Giovanni appearance, I was able to corner Jacinda to ask her about it, in a roundabout way. “Guess you’ve all been busy practicing. I haven’t seen much of y’all in the last couple of weeks.”
She shrugged. “Mama wants us to be prepared. This concert could be a game-changer, especially since we’ll have all of Giovanni’s fans here.”
I nodded. It made sense, but yet it didn’t. “Tony Paul will love that, I’m sure.”
Her eyes met mine. “Would that bother you?”
“Of course not,” I denied hotly. “I’m not interested in Tony Paul. You know that.” She nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced. It was like she wanted to say something but couldn’t get it out. “What?”
She sighed and glanced around to see if the coast was clear. Apparently it was. “Mama saw what happened with y’all in the parking lot, Lacy.”
My eyes widened. “Nothing happened in the parking lot.”
Again, she looked unconvinced. “That’s not how Tony Paul tells it.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“I don’t want to say.”<
br />
“Yes, you do,” I said. “So tell me.”
“He admitted that he’s interested in you. He says you’re interested in him but you don’t want to lose your job.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course he would say that. “He’s delusional.”
“Really?” she asked as her eyes scanned my face. I flushed hotly and turned away.
“I told you. I’m not interested. Personally I can’t stand your brother.”
“Despite that, he fought for your job,” she added, like she was trying to corner me in my own lie. “It was a real spectacle. He was pleading your case like a man fighting for your honor. Mama was telling him that she isn’t going to risk her business on one of his castoffs. Finally he said that to show Mama how serious he is about you there will be no more one-night-stands.” Her eyes met mine directly. “So something must have happened in that parking lot.”
I was flabbergasted. “I swear to you, Jacinda. Nothing happened. He thinks he saw some spark of interest just because he was horsing around with my check and I tackled him to get it back. But I just wanted my money. That’s it. I swear to God.”
She shrugged. “Well, whatever. He’s on his best behavior for now, and I guess that’s all that counts. Something to think about given your probationary period ends tomorrow.”
I gulped as I glanced at the stage, where Gay was consulting with Tony Paul on the final song choices for their all-important gig. As if he felt my stare, his eyes met mine. There was a ghost of a smile on his face that Gay happened to glance up and catch. She sent me a stern look and I resumed my duties.
“Oh, girl,” Jacinda murmured with a shake of her head. “You’re in more trouble than you know.”
“What?” I scoffed.
She sighed. “Look, I’m telling you this woman to woman, okay? He’s my brother and I love him, but Tony Paul is not a happily ever after kind of guy. He likes to play, and that will only get worse if Mama gets her way and makes him some international superstar. You’re a challenge, but that’s probably it. Make your decisions accordingly.”
Southern Rocker Chick Page 8
