Southern Rocker Chick

by Ginger Voight

  I had other avenues to explore now, no matter what.

  After Cody and I worked on his coloring book, which taught him his A,B,Cs and his numbers, I decided to check in with Vanni to see if he had sent me another message. I was a little depressed that my followers stagnated around 250 still. Out of curiosity, I checked Jonah’s. His had exploded almost overnight. My brow furrowed as I read through the feed. Groupie after groupie had contacted him, using the hashtag #ladiesnight. There were dozens of selfies, which showed Jonah cozied up to all his adoring fans. I glanced at his headline just under the photo of him onstage, which urged ladies to “come and get him” on Mondays.

  Apparently they were ready to take him up on that offer.

  Each and every person who responded to him was “favorited” by Jonah. He responded to some of the prettiest ones. “Thanks for coming to see the show. Come to see me next week and I may sing a song just for you.”

  I read each and every update with a sinking stomach. Not only were the groupies out in full force, Ariel Acardi had tagged him on her feed, which had doubled his followers overnight. Not only had Ariel followed him, but PING, a well-known paparazzi site and Miles O’Rourke, a gossip columnist who had tagged Jonah every time he wanted to speculate on whether or not Ariel had a new country cowboy in Austin.

  Jonah had mentioned none of this.

  Worse, notifications were added all day long, including candid photos from the photo shoot, which weren’t for the band at all. They were all of him in various locations all around Austin. He changed his profile photos across all platforms to outdoors shots of him shirtless, with a dreamy bedroom look in his eyes.

  It reminded me of every photo I’d seen of Tony Paul, which he had used to develop his brand. Gay wanted another sex god and it appeared she had found it.

  And I didn’t like it one little bit, especially when I realized that Jonah still hadn’t added me. Clearly he was keeping his social media professional, but somehow the lead singer of his band didn’t quite make the cut. I told myself it was only because Gay had veto power on his profiles. It made me resent her even more. I refused to send a friend request, knowing that it would probably get deleted without a second thought. She was chipping away at his rough edges to create the star she wanted.

  I, apparently, was one of those rough edges. With a scowl, I set all my profiles to private so that she couldn’t keep track of my actions. If I really wanted to keep Vanni and Fierce as viable options, I wanted to keep that as close to the vest as possible.

  Around noon Jonah started to text me, but I wasn’t ready to talk to him. I opened up a message to Vanni, tempted to just say fuck it and leave Southern Nights once and for all. I spent the whole afternoon going back and forth with myself. On one hand I felt like I was being silly. Jonah hadn’t really done anything to make me believe that he was conning me like Tony Paul had done.

  On the other hand he was still a musician, and I already knew they couldn’t be trusted.

  But I really thought Jonah was different. From the way he held me to the thoughtful little things he did to show me he cared, like bringing me tea when I was sick, he was the complete opposite of Tony Paul.

  Mama wasn’t any help at all. She spotted his profile on my computer, which I kept open on the dining room table as I kept close tabs on his afternoon.

  “Handsome,” she commented as she passed behind me. “Has a lot of fans too, I see.”

  I gulped back any retort. I slammed the laptop shut and headed toward the bedroom, where I played and read with Cody until dinner.

  I kept one eye on my phone, debating on whether or not I should text him. Before I could decide, he called me a little after seven o’clock.

  “Why didn’t you answer my texts?” he asked in that rich voice that made me weak in the knees.

  I tried my best to hang onto my anger. “I thought you were busy.”

  “I’m never too busy for you,” he drawled. It was exactly what I had hoped to hear. “Tell me you’re feeling better and I can come pick you up right now.”

  Just the promise in his sexy voice made my heart race. “I’m feeling better,” I began.

  “But?”

  “It’s kind of late. It’d be a waste to get a hotel room for a few hours.”

  His voice was husky and soft, textured – just like his beard against my bare skin. “I don’t care if it’s five minutes. I want to be with you, Lacy.”

  I closed my eyes. God, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to take that leap of faith. I wanted him to prove that all my worries were ridiculous. “Fine,” I finally agreed before I texted the address to the trailer.

  He had one last test. If he could accept who I was, who I really was, then he could pass the final barrier. I only had one thing to do first: I had to prepare Mama.

  I sat her down at the table. “Mama, my friend is coming over to get me. We’re going to go out for a while.”

  She nodded. “Your friend the rock star, I presume.”

  “Yes,” I said quietly. I didn’t even try to deny it.

  She sighed. “Oh, Lacy. When will you ever learn?”

  “He’s different, Mama,” I told her, mostly because I had to believe it was true.

  “I’ve heard that before,” she said before she rose to fill her cup of coffee. She leaned on the counter as she turned to face me. “Do you love him, Lacy?”

  I looked away. I was still figuring that one out for myself. “It’s complicated.”

  “Isn’t it always?” I had no answer for her. She sipped from her cup. “And what about Cody?”

  “What about him?”

  “Does your ‘friend’ know about him?”

  “Of course he does,” I snapped. “As a matter of fact, he’s met him.”

  Mama’s eyes narrowed as she glared at me. “I see. And is Cody joining you tonight on your little date?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not like that, Mama. We just need to talk.”

  She chuckled humorlessly. “Lie to yourself, honey. Don’t lie to me.”

  “Fine. I want to be with him. Is that so wrong?”

  “No,” she answered quietly. “It’s not wrong. But it is unwise.”

  I met her gaze. “It’s my mistake to make, Mama.”

  She put her cup in the sink. “You got that right at least.”

  I stood. “Please, Mama. Just promise you’ll be nice to him.”

  “I’ll treat him like a king,” she promised. “Until he hurts you.”

  We stared each other down for a few moments before I disappeared into the bedroom to change. I picked something simple, something I would have worn on any day of the week. I put my hair in casual pigtails and barely bothered with makeup.

  He’d seen me dressed up, slutted up and gussied up. If he was going to love me, he was going to love me as is: no warranty.

  I was just finishing up when I heard him arrive. I turned to Cody, who played with one of his big trucks on my bed. “We’ve got company,” I said with a big smile. “Let’s go see who’s here.”

  He held his arms up and I balanced him on one hip as I exited my bedroom and walked down the narrow hallway toward the living room.

  Jonah wore a black Western shirt, jeans and his cowboy boots. His beard was neat and trimmed, and he stood tall and straight in my tiny living room. His eyes softened immediately as he saw Cody and me. He turned to Cody with a smile. “Hey, little man. Remember me?”

  “Free Bird!” Cody exclaimed, trying to flash the horns with his fingers but not quite getting it.

  “That’s right,” he said as he chuckled.

  Cody climbed down my body and ran over to his toy box in the corner of the room. He pulled out the plastic guitar I had to buy him after that first picnic with Jonah. He motioned for Jonah to sit down. “Sit,” Cody said with a big smile. Jonah obliged him happily, so I sat next to him on the sofa, even though I was keenly aware that Mama watched every move behind her narrowed eyes.

  Mama brought Jonah a glass
of tea before she sat in a recliner near the TV, which she muted. “So I hear you’re the new big star down at the club.” She glanced him over. “Looks about right.”

  “Mama,” I warned softly.

  “Please,” she sniffed again. “This boy has Gay’s fingerprints all over him.”

  Jonah kept his cool like a perfect gentleman. “I’m proud to be a part of the band with your daughter, Jules. She’s really talented. I know she’s destined for great things.”

  “Too bad she’ll never see them working at that club.”

  I glared at her. “Mom.”

  “He should know who he’s working for. Haven’t you told him?”

  I jumped up before she could say anything else. “We should probably go.”

  Jonah stood slowly, placing the tea on a coaster on the table. “It was really nice to meet you,” he said to Mama. He turned to Cody and held up his closed fist for a friendly bump with my little guy. “Great job, big man. I can’t wait for your next concert.”

  Cody giggled happily before he raced over to the recliner where Mama sat. He climbed into her lap. “When are you coming home?” she asked me.

  “Early,” I promised.

  “Good.” She smoothed Cody’s hair with one loving hand. “I have that double shift. I can’t be late.”

  I nodded, kissed her goodbye and led Jonah outside toward his truck.

  We didn’t say anything until we both climbed inside the cab. “You look better.”

  I couldn’t even look at him. I was mortified by my Mama, my house, my clothes… everything. “Thanks.”

  “Your mom seems nice.”

  I couldn’t help but snicker. “You don’t have to live with her.” Off his look I added, “She’s great, don’t get me wrong. But she’s… a force of nature sometimes.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know,” he teased with a grin. I smiled in return. “There it is,” he murmured as he took my hand. He didn’t let go of it again until we closed the hotel room door behind us. As he grabbed me into those strong arms and devoured my lips in a hungry kiss, he had no idea that he had brought me to the very same hotel Tony Paul had taken me all those years ago, where my son was likely conceived.

  I wonder if Gay had given him some kind of code for a Southern Studs group rate.

  “I’ve been waiting for this all weekend,” he said against my mouth as his fingers fumbled with the buttons on my shirt.

  Before or after you hung out with your groupies? I gulped hard before I pulled away. “Jonah.”

  He was confused as I put more distance between us instead of less. “What’s wrong?”

  I changed the subject. “We should order some food or something.” I walked across the lavish room toward the window overlooking the Colorado River.

  Flashes of Tony Paul burned in my brain as Jonah walked up behind me. He rubbed himself against me. “Whatever you want,” he said, kissing the sensitive curve of my neck.

  What did I want? I wanted to be anywhere else but this fucking hotel. There were ghosts in every corner. I took a deep breath as he rimmed my ear with his tongue. “They have appetizers if you’re not that hungry.”

  “I’m starving,” he growled against my ear. I watched in the reflection as he slipped his arms around me, his hands cupping each full breast. As good as it felt, I couldn’t shake thoughts of Tony Paul.

  I summoned my anger. It was the only arrow left in the quiver. “I’m surprised, after your buffet last night.”

  He stiffened against me. “What does that mean?”

  I turned to face him. “I saw the photos, Jonah.”

  “So?”

  “So it looked like you were having a great time.”

  “I was,” he answered. He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. “I did. But what does that have to do with us?” I rolled my eyes and faced the window. “Lacy,” he said, his voice sharp.

  I took a deep breath before I faced him again. “I’ve been down this road before, Jonah.” If only he knew. “I know how it ends.”

  He was angry as he folded his arms across that massive chest. “You mind filling me in? Since you seem to have figured out our whole relationship without me.” He paused for a moment. “So was this a date or some kind of a goodbye?”

  I had to look away. I had so wanted him to pass this test, but he had three major strikes against him. He brought me to this fucking hotel. He only wanted to get me into bed. And worst of all, he wasn’t sorry that he’d been canoodling with his groupies.

  It was Tony Paul all over again.

  His voice was controlled, but angry. “Let me get this straight. Because some other asshole screwed you over, you’re not even going to give me a chance. Is that it?”

  “Not just some asshole,” I snapped. “The asshole. It started this same way. He invited me to perform in his band. He thought I had ‘it.’ That I could be a star. Meanwhile I played backup while he got to soak up the spotlight. And Gay was right there the whole way, making sure he got the opportunities I didn’t.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “You don’t believe me?” I countered. He didn’t seem to know it but he was hammering the last nail into the coffin.

  He shook his head. “I didn’t say that. But it is in her best interest for you to do well. Why would she play favorites?”

  How could he even ask that? Surely he had had an earful from every gossipmonger at Southern Nights about Gay’s longstanding grudge over what I supposedly did to Tony Paul. Everybody knew.

  Didn’t they?

  Did he?

  The more I studied him, the more I began to wonder. He appeared genuinely clueless, as if he hadn’t quite put the pieces together yet. Could that be possible, even after what happened with Jacinda, and all the time he’d spent with Gaynell?

  And if he didn’t know, why hadn’t they told him?

  I decided if they hadn’t, I certainly wouldn’t. Why paint myself with their brush when I didn’t have to? I sighed and looked away. “Because I’m a harder sell, that’s why.”

  “Why are you a hard sell?”

  “Because I won’t play the game,” I told him, which was true, regardless of my history with Tony Paul. “I don’t care to wear slutty outfits or flirt with all the boys in the crowd. I just want to sing, get paid and go home. That’s it. I never wanted to be famous, Jonah. That’s not my scene. Fame changes people. When the people around you stop telling you no, it’s that much easier to stop telling that to yourself. So it’s no holds barred. Real life rules don’t apply. Look at us. We’re reduced to some booty call in a hotel because it would hurt your brand new image as a bad boy to be seen with a steady companion.” I felt like I was in some sadistic rerun from hell as I uttered the familiar words.

  There was one difference between Tony Paul and Jonah, though. Jonah was allowed – encouraged – to have a companion. “At least one who isn’t somehow more famous than you,” I amended softly. His eyes narrowed as he listened. “You know that’s why you’ve gotten all this recognition right? It’s because of Ariel Acardi and Jasper Carrington.”

  He was getting angrier by the minute. “Gee. And I thought it had something to do with me being talented.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” I snapped.

  “Then what do you mean?” he snapped back.

  God, did he really need me to spell it out for him? Why did I have to be the bitch here? “You’re not an artist, Jonah. You’re a paper doll that Gay can dress up, or strip down, just to fill her club.”

  “I see,” he gritted through clenched teeth as he buttoned his shirt. I knew I had hurt him, but maybe that was best. Maybe this way we could end it all before it got even more complicated.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I’ll pay you back for the room.”

  “I don’t care about the fucking room.”

  He was offended. He was hurt. Those were two things Tony Paul never could have been. Was there still hope for this good ol’ country boy? Was h
e really what he seemed to be? Despite the all the similarities he shared with the man who had hurt me the most, could Jonah Riley really be different?

  There was only one way to know.

  “Then what do you care about?”

  He stomped over to where I stood, bending down to look right into my face. “I cared about spending some time with the Lacy I thought I knew, not this cold-hearted bitch that comes out to play every time your pride gets a little wounded.”

  My hand flew across his face before I could stop it. He had a lot of nerve to call me names after everything. Even if he didn’t know about Tony Paul, he had withheld crucial parts of his life from me.

  He was undaunted. “Do it again,” he dared. “Bitch.”

  I raised my other hand but he caught it easily, curling it behind my back and forcing me against that solid chest. “Is this some kind of fucking foreplay with you, lady?”

  “You’re an asshole,” I hissed.

  “Then why are you here with me? If I’m some talentless hack, some witless paper doll, why did you come here? To rub my nose in it, like some dog that pissed on the carpet?”

  “No!” I denied at once.

  “Then tell me,” he commanded in a soft voice.

  He stared at me so intently it nearly brought tears to my eyes. He could see inside my soul, yet he couldn’t see that I just wanted him to prove he wanted me most of all? “I wanted you to prove it wasn’t true. That you’re not him.”

  His eyes dropped to my mouth. “You want proof?” I gasped as he lifted me up into his arms and tossed me onto the bed. Before I could bounce back up, he landed on top of me. I felt every familiar contour press me into the mattress. “Here’s your proof.”

  He delivered a punishing kiss on my mouth as he lifted my arms above my head, securing them with one hand. I trembled in spite of myself when he buried his face in my neck, his hot mouth against my ear until I melted into a puddle beneath him. His hand disappeared beneath my shirt, stopping just short of my breast. He unbuttoned the shirt I was wearing with his teeth, his breath hot against the skin he was bearing one inch at a time. My shirt fell away, revealing me for that hungry mouth, but he avoided every single area that begged to be touched.