Southern Rocker Chick

by Ginger Voight

  Over the next week, though, I started to have serious doubts. Once we returned to rehearsals, Gay kept Tony Paul so busy that he barely made it to the club itself until right before show time. Fans, who read the piece in the paper, stayed late after every show in hopes of another chance to get close to the sexy symbol of Southern Nights, which meant he either did more M&Gs or he was whisked away separately.

  I went home with him once that week but he was exhausted and more than a little tipsy courtesy of all the shots his devoted fans sent to him during the course of our set. He was practically snoring as we cuddled and kissed.

  He made it up to me the next morning with a quickie in the shower, which was about all we could manage before Gay came banging on the door to make sure he was moving along according to schedule.

  Most of the time he sent me home to my house, especially when the night ran long with impromptu M&Gs with the fans.

  I sucked it up as best I could. This was his break, and I had never been that close to anyone who had jammed their foot in the door of any kind of success. I wanted to support him as best as I could, but I also missed him. I lay in my teeny single bed in my teeny singlewide, aching deep in my soul that I couldn’t be in his arms.

  By Sunday I was ready to break a few rules. He sent me home around eleven o’clock that night so that he could wade through the endless throng of groupies. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I talked to Rusty, one of the bouncers, and told him to text me when it was about to wrap up so that I could come back to the club and head back to the house with Tony Paul, for two fun-filled days of precious alone-time.

  Rusty texted me at ten before three in the morning, letting me know that there were only a handful of stragglers left. I had been sitting on my bed, dressed in my sexiest shirt and my favorite pair of jeans, with full makeup applied and perfume dabbed on every pressure point Tony Paul loved to explore. So the minute I got that text, I hopped off the bed, grabbed my tote bag and raced out the door.

  I sang loudly to every song on the radio as I sped to Southern Nights. My heart raced the closer I got. Every nerve ending hummed. I was breathless with anticipation as I pulled into the parking lot. The lights were already off and most people had left. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, one of which was Tony Paul’s sports car. I nearly squealed with excitement as I navigated my car to park next to his.

  The closer I got, I realized that there was a darkened silhouette in the car, sitting in the driver’s seat. My headlights flooded light into the vehicle. Tony Paul, who had his head propped against the headrest, glanced up, squinting his hooded eyes as he watched me approach.

  I watched in disbelief as another figure rose from his lap into view, a bleached blonde with smeared red lipstick. She wiped her mouth and adjusted her top, which had exposed her full, double-D breasts. He said something to her. She nodded and scooted out of the passenger side of the car. She stumbled on her stilettos as she headed off to another car parked nearby.

  Tears formed in my eyes as I stared at him through my windshield. He lifted up, likely adjusting his jeans, and then he opened the door and got out. The closer he got, the angrier I got. He leaned on the open window. “Get out of the car, Lacy.”

  “Why? Your little friend there didn’t finish the job?”

  Having thought that was an appropriate exit line, I reached for the gear shift to throw the car in reverse. He was close enough, and quick enough, to grab my keys through the window. He backed away from the car, leaving me stalled.

  “Give them back!” I demanded.

  He backed away from the car. “Come and get them.”

  I wrenched the car door open and flew at him. He held up the keys and caught me easily, like he had the first night he got me into his arms. I wailed at him with my fists and he took a couple of blows before he ended up pinning my arms against my body and holding me prone.

  “Calm down.”

  “Calm down?” I screeched. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I kicked and wiggled, but he was too strong, despite the fact he smelled like a brewery.

  “Look, I fucked up,” he said.

  “You’re goddamned right you fucked up!”

  “I don’t know how to do this, Lacy!” The raw emotion in his voice stopped me from struggling. “Everything is happening too fast. I’m drinking too much. I’m sleeping and eating too little. Every beautiful girl in this fucking town is coming onto me, and I’m not used to telling anyone no.”

  I scoffed. “No fucking kidding.”

  He sat me on my feet once he was convinced I was calm enough. “I told you what it was like when I was a kid. I was fat. I wore braces. And Mama,” he started but then shook his head. “You don’t know what it’s like to grow up in her shadow. Never good enough. Never strong enough.” He sighed as he perched on the hood of my car. “This last week has been hell. She’s been driving me crazy. Ruling my life like she used to when I was younger. Everything is so goddamned important, from the clothes I wear to the poses in every fucking picture I’m supposed to take. God forbid I try to make a decision. Why do you think I’ve been drunk for a week solid? I’m scared shitless I’ll ruin everything and then what would I do?” His eyes searched my face. “And then there’s you.”

  “Don’t you dare blame your mistakes on me.”

  He stood and approached me. “I’m not. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

  I sneered at him as he reached me. “Right. Why else would you be letting some drunk skank suck your cock in a parking lot?”

  “Because I’m an idiot,” he said softly.

  “You’re damned right you are. You could have had me. All you had to do was text me and I would have been here.”

  He brushed the back of his hand against the curve of my jaw. “That’s because you’re too good for me, Lacy Abernathy. I’ve known it from the moment we met.”

  As mad as I was, my heart melted. I had longed to hear that for so long. “Then why try to hook up with me at all?”

  His voice was soft. “How could I resist?” His fingers circled my wrist and he pulled me closer. I shook my head but he would not be denied. “Don’t you see that you’re better than any record contract? And you’re the one thing in my life I’m the most afraid of losing.”

  “So you throw it all away over a blowjob? Why would you do that?”

  “Because it’s going to happen anyway,” he said sadly and turned away. “Eventually you’ll figure it out and you’ll leave just like everyone else.”

  His voice was so sad it broke my heart. “Tony,” I said softly.

  He chuckled humorlessly.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He turned his head to look at me. “With you, I can be Tony. You’re the only one who sees me as a man and not some prop. And it’s fucking terrifying.” He handed me my keys. “If you don’t want to see me anymore, I’ll understand. But I hope you stay with the band. We need you.”

  His eyes were so sincere as he stared at me. He even mustered a tear. I sighed and took the keys. “How can I know anything you’re saying is true?”

  “You don’t,” he stated simply. “Isn’t it funny they call it love?”

  I said nothing as I opened the car and slid into the driver’s seat. I put the key in the ignition. Before I could turn it on, he said softly, “Don’t go.”

  I closed my eyes. I saw my Mama’s poor tired face. I had heard many an argument like this one as I was growing up, as Lucas pleaded with her to give him one more chance that he knew he didn’t deserve. If I had any sense at all, I’d peel out of that parking lot and never come back to Southern Nights ever again.

  But the sad truth was I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay. I wanted to hear him plead for me to stay.

  I didn’t want it to be over.

  And the longer I sat there, the more Tony Paul knew that. He knelt by the window of the car. My eyes met his. Finally he stood, opened the door and pulled me out. After he retrieved my tote bag,
he locked the car and led me towards his sports car. I got in quietly and he gunned the engine. We drove without speaking to a nearby five-star hotel that Gay often used for out-of-town guests.

  I stood next to him quietly as he booked a suite. He kept my hand in his as we headed toward the elevator and rode to the top floors. He opened our room and I stepped wordlessly inside. I walked all the way to the window overlooking the river. I couldn’t speak as he stood behind me, his hands on either of my arms, his body rigid and strong as it pressed against my back. My eyes fluttered closed as he bent his head to my neck. I nearly dissolved into a puddle as he began to sing a love song softly. I leaned my head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around my waist as we swayed to the song.

  I watched our reflection in the window as his hands began to explore my body. Though we were a brand new couple, he already knew just where to touch, just where to kiss. I was putty in his hands and he knew it. He turned me to face him so that he could kiss me at last. He lifted me up into his arms and carried me to the bed.

  I knew it was foolish to forgive him so fast. But I never realized how hollow I had been until he filled me. I needed him to love me like I needed oxygen to breathe. He hovered over me, a question in his eyes as he stared down at me. I gave a subtle nod and he bent for a kiss.

  My body came alive under his touch. I clutched my arms around his neck and pulled him to me. He moaned in his throat but said nothing as he dragged his mouth from mine, kissing me along any exposed flesh. His hand slipped under my shirt as I wrapped one leg around his hips.

  He was gentle and thorough as he undressed me, unveiling me like a work of art. He traced fiery images into my skin with the tip of his tongue, from the sensitive spot behind my ear and along my neck, all the way to the painfully erect nipple straining against my shirt. He freed it at last, his mouth covering me, his tongue lapping around that sensitive tip. I arched toward him with a beseeching moan.

  His fingers unzipped my jeans, pulling down the denim fabric along with the sexy, lacy underwear I had bought only two days before. He didn’t care about any of that. They were both discarded without a second thought. Instead his knee parted my thighs as he fit himself between my legs. He fumbled with his jeans before I felt him press against me. He held my gaze as he eased himself inside of me. I felt myself open to him like a flower as he sank deep with one sure stroke. He held himself inside me for a moment. I could have sworn I saw his eyes glisten as he stared down at me.

  I rewarded him with a kiss.

  We made love slowly, tenderly. There were tears in my own eyes as I came. It wasn’t mind-blowing or earth-shattering. It erupted like a dormant volcano sputtering to life. He looked into my eyes and I gave him every last bit of me there was to give.

  He kissed me as he continued to build to his own orgasm. I said nothing. I spoke only with my body. Within a few minutes he thrust himself inside me, pouring every last bit of himself into me.

  It was the most intimate moment in my life. I cried as I held him. He crooned softly as he stroked my hair. “I’ve never made love before tonight,” he confessed softly. “Thank you for showing me what it could mean.”

  I fell even harder with every word he uttered.

  We stayed in the hotel for the entire two days. I didn’t mention the incident in the parking lot until Wednesday morning as we finished room service. We were in bed, cuddled together as naked as we had stayed our whole visit, when I finally asked him softly, “Was the other night the first time?”

  He face hardened. “Lacy.”

  “Tell me,” I insisted. “Was that girl the only one?”

  He pulled away. “Jesus, Lacy. I thought we were beyond this.” He reached for his jeans.

  “Did you really think that just because we fucked for two days I would have forgotten that you were getting blown by some other girl?”

  His eyes were hard as he faced me. “We did more than fuck and you know it.”

  “If that’s true, then answer my question. What could we possibly have to hide from each other now?”

  His jaw clenched until he finally sighed and sat back on the bed. “Jasper Carrington has some very specific ideas for my brand, Lacy. Sex sells. He’s built some of his biggest acts around it. ‘Make ‘em fall in love with you. They’ll buy every record you make, even if it’s crap.’”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, Tony.”

  “Of course it does. I have to maintain the illusion. So what do I do if someone is coming on to me? Do I shove them off, ripping that curtain away on how unavailable I am? Or do I let them get a minor cheap thrill?”

  I sat up. “Wait a second. You’re saying you’d rather let some strange girl suck your cock than tell them you have someone?”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  My mouth fell open as I scoffed.

  “Don’t you get it? In order to get this contract, I can’t be with anyone.”

  “But,” I stammered, thinking of how romantic and sensual our getaway had been. Had it, too, been part of the illusion?

  He sat on the bed and took my hands into his. “This is the business, baby. You know this. You’ve been around this since you were a kid.”

  “You’re right,” I snapped as I pulled away. “I’m quite familiar with men fucking around.”

  He hopped up to chase me to the bathroom. “What do you want from me, Lacy? Do you want me down on one knee? Do you want me to ride in on some horse to whisk you away into the sunset?”

  I spun back to face him. “I want you to love me!”

  He sighed and leaned against the wall. “What do you think these last two days were about, baby?”

  “Your ‘Get out of Jail Free’ card,” I spat.

  “Maybe,” he conceded. “But why else would I need one if I didn’t want to be with you?”

  “In secret,” I corrected. “Where nobody knows.”

  “Who else matters but you and me?”

  “Well, I don’t know. That number seems to change depending on the scenery.”

  “So what do you want me to do? Stop singing? Tell the most important guy in music to go fuck himself? Give up my dream?”

  “Of course not,” I muttered.

  He closed the distance between us. “It’s only temporary. And I promise from here on out I’ll be good as gold. I’ll figure out a way. Can you be patient for just a little while longer?”

  I sighed. “Two weeks?” I asked.

  “Two weeks,” he promised, holding up his hand.

  The minute we returned to the club, I knew exactly what those two weeks would entail. Gay pounced on Tony Paul the minute she saw him, to berate him for being incommunicado for two days straight. If he hadn’t have told her that was how it was going to be for the foreseeable future, I probably would have left the club altogether.

  But he did so I didn’t. The rest of the week followed the same frustrating pattern as the week before. Even though Gay didn’t schedule any M&Gs, Tony Paul played the good son by going home, alone, each and every night.

  Apparently he soothed things over. She made no comment as Tony and I left together that Sunday night and headed straight for the hotel.

  The following week was a busy one as we prepared once again for Jasper Carrington. He would fly in on Thursday and by Saturday he would introduce his brand new act on stage with one of his biggest stars.

  Everything had to be perfect, so there was no time to play.

  I was so tired from all the work we had put into the set and the club that I nearly had to call in sick for Tony’s big day. I was exhausted… dizzy… nauseated. I ended up perching a stool for most of the rehearsals by week’s end.

  “You okay?” he asked as he stood as close as he dared.

  “I’ll be better on Sunday,” I told him. He gave me a wink.

  The entire band went out for a congratulatory dinner that Friday afternoon, after Tony Paul signed the dotted line and officially became one of Carrington Entertainment’s rising stars. Gay
told us Tony’s upcoming itinerary, which, surprisingly, didn’t include the rest of us.

  The rest of the family took this well in stride. Apparently I was the only one who hadn’t been clear on things up until then. I pulled Jacinda aside before our performance that night. “So none of us are going with Jasper?”

  Jacinda chuckled. “No. Why would we?”

  “Because we’re a band,” I said. “And you guys are family.”

  She shrugged. “Jasper didn’t want us. The only one he saw with star potential was Tony Paul.”

  It hurt to hear it more than I thought it would. It only made me feel even worse, physically. By Sunday I had to give Tony Paul a rain check. I was in no condition to frolic and cavort, no matter how tempting my companion.

  By Monday I felt even worse. I said nothing to Mama. I didn’t want to worry her, especially after I consulted a symptom-checker online. I prayed it would go away, or I’d run a fever, or any other symptom would rear its ugly head to steer me towards another diagnosis.

  But it didn’t. By Tuesday I dragged myself to the nearest drug store and purchased a pregnancy test. By that evening, my worst suspicions were confirmed. I was eighteen, and I was pregnant.

  Wednesday morning I went to a clinic to have it confirmed by a doctor. He advised that I was four weeks pregnant, according to my last period. Again I went online and calculated that conception must have happened the first time we stayed at the hotel.

  On the night I had caught him with another girl. How romantic.

  I couldn’t face anyone. I called in sick to work and I feigned the flu with my mother. I stayed in my tiny single bed as my mind scrambled to find a solution to this problem. Clearly I couldn’t have the baby. I was eighteen. I was single. Tony Paul had already told me that marriage and kids weren’t in the cards right now. His focus was his career.