Southern Rocker Chick

by Ginger Voight

  He made it all the way to my abdomen before I whimpered, “Jonah.”

  He crawled up my body, hovering over me. “What?” he demanded. “What do you want from me?” His eyes bore into mine. “Tell me!”

  I wanted it all. I wanted everything. I wanted to sing. I wanted to be successful. I wanted to raise my child. And I wanted to be loved, wholly, honestly and completely. As if he read my thoughts, he released my arms with his hand. His fingers traced my face, his thumb against my softly parted lips. Slowly he bent to kiss me, his mouth covering mine, to love me where I was empty, to heal me where I was broken.

  It was time to exorcise old demons. It was time to be honest with him… and with myself.

  “I want you,” I whispered. “God help me, I want you.”

  It was all the permission he needed. His hand slid under my bra, cupping my breast possessively. The second his finger brushed against the hardened nipple, I gasped out loud. He rewarded me with another kiss, this one softer and gentler than the ones before.

  It tasted like love.

  “I’m not Tony Paul,” he promised softly. “I’m not going to break your heart, Lacy.”

  I wasn’t ready to hear that. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jonah. One day you will have to choose.”

  Wordlessly he removed my bra, his mouth latching onto the sensitive peak until I couldn’t help but cry out. He unzipped my jeans so that he could slip his hand under my panties and against my wet pussy, which ached to be filled by him. He must have known because he toyed with me until I would have begged for him had I been able to speak at all.

  He unwrapped me like a present before he kissed his way down my body and in between my legs. I gasped as I felt his breath against me a second before my clit disappeared inside his warm mouth. That tongue drew lazy circles around the sensitive nub, driving my eyes to the back of my head as I clutched the top cover of the bed. His fingers rimmed the lips of my pussy, before opening me slowly to slide inside. He probed me deeply as he sucked hard. It didn’t take long until I was coming against his mouth with cries I could no longer contain.

  He ripped away his shirt as he rose in between my trembling thighs. I watched as he unzipped those tight jeans, made even tighter by his massive erection. He revealed himself slowly, which only made me crazier for him. My arms, and legs, opened as he fit himself against me. He kissed me again, long and slow. Finally he lifted away, staring deep into my eyes. “You’re my drug, Lacy. Every day when I wake up, I’m possessed by the thought of you. Nothing even comes close to competing. Not the fame. Not the girls in the audience. It’s a hopeless addiction I take one day at a time. Any day I can, I choose you.” It was everything I had always wanted to hear. He sealed that promise when he thrust into me, deep and sure.

  I wound my body around him, holding him close, afraid to let him go. He kissed me hard as he drove his body into mine, as though he wanted to disappear inside of me. He thrust so hard and so deep that I came for a second time. I screamed for him as pleasure crashed over me in wave after wave.

  I felt him tangle his hands into my hair as he fucked me like a man possessed. “Tell me you want it,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need.

  “I want it,” I echoed. But it was more than that, and he needed to know it. “I want you. Jonah.”

  With one final thrust, he emptied himself inside of me. I clutched him even deeper, which made him tremble as he collapsed on top of me in a sweaty, breathless heap. “God damn, baby,” he muttered against my ear. “You make me crazy. You know that, right?”

  I caressed his face, delighting in the familiar tickle of his beard against my palm. “About as crazy as I get when I see you with other girls.”

  He brushed my sweaty hair from my face. “And you know what I’m thinking whenever I’m with those girls?” I shook my head. “I’m wishing they were you.”

  I desperately wanted to believe him. I kissed him softly as he folded me into those strong arms.

  I prayed he’d never let me go.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Our romance flourished over the following week. He was attentive and sweet and I was encouraging and open. We talked often, stole kisses whenever possible and, most importantly, focused everything we had on the music. It seemed that together we were unstoppable, even in the face of Gay’s endless puppeteering. She was still trying to climb up Jasper Carrington’s ass, her newest plan involved a video shoot for Ariel Acardi at the club the following week, for which she shut the whole club down.

  Even more upsetting, I learned that Jonah had been tapped to play Ariel’s boy-toy on screen.

  I tried my best not to read the gossip sites about it, or peruse his social media looking for any evidence that it was anything other than what it was supposed to be. To his credit, Jonah told me about it before I had to ask. It reminded me of the nasty things I said about his being a prop for Ariel’s career, which wasn’t fair to him. He may have been new to the stage, but he worked hard at his craft. He was good at what he did. I did everything I could to make that comment back up to him, which included encouraging him to take more challenging songs to show off his developing chops.

  The closer we got to the few days he was scheduled to shoot the video, however, the more insecure I felt. I grew pensive and quiet, which, of course, prompted him to ask what was wrong.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked as he cuddled me close.

  “I’m just going to miss you the next few days.”

  He nodded and kissed me softly. “You know if I didn’t need the money, I wouldn’t go through with it.”

  I chuckled. “Liar. You’d do it because it’s the smart thing to do. This is how you fast-track a career in the 21st century.”

  He studied my face. “So if you know that, why don’t you do that?”

  “Because no hunky superstar asked me to star in his video.”

  “Yet,” he promised with a kiss.

  “That’s sweet but that’s not what I want, Jonah. I told you. I don’t care about fame. I just want to make my music and provide for my kid. That’s it.”

  “Fame could do that nicely,” he pointed out. “Why struggle when you don’t have to?”

  He was so sweet, my country boy straight off the farm. “You’re still star-struck, baby. Wait till fame costs you something, then get back to me.”

  His eyes were gentle as he smoothed my hair with his strong hand. “I’m sorry that sonofabitch hurt you.”

  I simply shrugged. “It was my fault. I believed the lie.”

  He kissed me once more. “This isn’t a lie, darlin’. If nothing else, please believe that.”

  God, I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.

  It was a hard promise to hold onto. As each busy day passed and I barely heard from him, I was more and more tempted to go online and fill in the blanks myself. I resisted, but barely. Each and every day was a struggle.

  I was so relieved when I could head back to Southern Nights that weekend, to perform together after a frustrating week apart.

  I found Jonah in the dressing room, going through the wardrobe. “What are you doing?”

  He stood and pulled me into his arms. “Thinking about you.” He crushed his mouth on mine, which felt like heaven after several days apart.

  I responded to his kiss with abandon, wearing a smile when I finally pulled away. “Kinda missed me, huh?”

  “Every damned day,” he growled and lifted me into a big bear hug.

  I wrapped myself around him. “I missed you, too.”

  He put me back on the ground and I turned to the wardrobe rack. “So. Did you find something sexy for me to wear?”

  He kept his arms around me. “Anything you wear is sexy, baby. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”

  I grinned. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  After the briefest of hesitations, he said, “Kind of makes any fight over the wrappings a silly one, don’t you think?”

  “What do you
mean?”

  He pulled out a mini skirt from the rack of clothes. “So what if you wear this? It doesn’t cheapen you because you’re not cheap. In fact, I think it shows how much control over you that you really have, especially with your tattoos. People can see from across the room that your body belongs only to you.”

  I studied him carefully. Where was this coming from? “I guess.”

  He simply shrugged. “Just saying. You can play the game by your own rules.”

  “I thought I was.”

  He pulled me towards the sofa and onto his lap. “You are. I love what you do.”

  “But?”

  “But nothing. I’d love you if you went out there in pasties and a G-string. I’d love you if you went out there wrapped head to toe in burlap. It’s not about the clothes. It’s about your voice. Your presence. And that’s anything but cheap, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around me. “Even if you went out there fully naked, I’d still support everything you did and every choice you made. You’d have to visit me in jail from forcefully castrating any guy who got close to you,” he added. I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll always be your biggest fan, Lacy.”

  I sighed. What he said made sense, I supposed. I just hated it. It wasn’t fair. “You just don’t want to be the only one showing skin out there.”

  “Guilty as charged,” he admitted shamelessly as he reached for another kiss. He disappeared to talk to Gay over whatever the hell it was they talked about these days. I stayed behind in the dressing room, surveying the wardrobe choices. None of the selection there included items I would have willingly owned otherwise. I resented like hell that I was being forced to wear it now.

  But it was a verifiable fact that his playing the sexy card had jumpstarted his career. Now he was even in a worldwide video with one of the hottest singers on the planet.

  And Ariel Acardi wasn’t even that great of a singer. She just knew how to look good in a miniskirt. The producers did the rest.

  I fucking hated it. But that was the business I was in. Finally I relented and wore the stupid miniskirt. The only upside? It showed off even more of my tattoos. Over the last three years I had gotten eighteen in total, little ones, big ones, pretty ones and edgier ones. They were my way of defying conventional beauty. I got a new one every single time someone tried to change me into something more palatable. Those were the people I wanted to drive away. These were the very same people thought I was uglier with them, scared, ruined, wrecked. All of that was fine by me. I never wanted to fit in to their pristine, phony world.

  If I did, I certainly wouldn’t sing rock music.

  Jonah was pleased to see me in the outfit, so much so he took off his shirt so I wouldn’t feel so exposed. In the end, he still got more attention than I did. The girls ate it up, while the men quickly forgot I was alive. There were a lot of horny girls in the club, who dressed in skimpier clothes than I did, who were brazenly sexual and drank way too much, making them easier pickings, which was also fine by me.

  I ended up leaving early, and Jonah offered the company car. He wanted to get cozy with me in the backseat, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My relationship with Jonah worked best when we didn’t have all the reminders of Tony Paul. “Tuesday,” I promised before I ducked away out of sight.

  We opened for Ariel that Saturday. I insisted we sing a Bowie/Queen song, he wanted me to do the Aerosmith tune. I got my way, he didn’t. There was no way I would risk my last chance at exposure by mangling one of the most recognizable rock ballads of all time.

  I didn’t hang around for Ariel, especially since I knew Jonah would have to. The less I knew about that, the better.

  That night, however, I grew increasingly antsy the longer I waited for Jonah to call like he normally did. I paced through the trailer until Mama finally cornered me. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I lied easily. “Just can’t sleep.”

  Mama nodded. “Must be hard to know that your man is out with someone else.”

  I whirled around to glare at her. “What are you talking about?”

  She walked over to the TV and turned it on, browsing the cable box for the DVR selection. She had recorded the evening news, which had a special segment about Ariel Acardi. They were so excited that she chose a local venue, and a local performer, to showcase her new release. I watched some of the footage, which showed Jonah on stage, getting a lap dance from the young singer.

  I gulped as I watched. Mama finally stopped the recording with the remote. It was a cruel, cruel irony that she wouldn’t have either device to taunt me with this upsetting video if I didn’t work for Southern Nights, which paid for little perks like cable.

  “Why would you show me that?” I asked her. “What was the point?”

  “I take it you knew.”

  “Of course I knew,” I snapped, though that wasn’t the entire truth. I knew about the video. The lap dance was a surprise.

  She just shook her head. “You’re going to fight it to the bitter end, aren’t you?”

  “There’s nothing to fight. Everything’s fine.”

  She sighed. “Fine,” she muttered at last. “Do what you want, Lacy. You always have.”

  She disappeared into her room behind the slamming of her door. I stomped back to my bedroom and flopped on my bed. I reached for the laptop, telling myself it was only to check my email, which was usually filled with spam.

  I denied what I was doing as I typed his name in the search engine, to see what people were saying about him.

  At the top of the results was a photo of Ariel and Leah, Jonah’s sister.

  It was like a knife in my heart.

  I prayed for him to call me, to set the record straight, to tell me, again, how much he needed and wanted me. Pretty soon I gave up waiting and decided to call him instead. I called a dozen times from midnight to four o’clock in the morning, but the night passed without any contact at all.

  On Sunday, I arrived almost a half-hour early. I found his cell phone sitting right on top of the makeup table, which explained why he hadn’t called me. I picked it up a half-second before he walked in the door, early himself.

  “I was going to ask you what happened to you,” I said as I handed him his phone. “But I figured you can’t make a call without your phone.”

  He immediately discarded the phone to pull me into his arms. He held me so tight, I could barely breathe.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be better on Tuesday.”

  I gave him a gentle smile. “Me, too.”

  “Lacy, we have to talk,” he said as he pulled away.

  “That sounds serious.”

  “It is. But no matter what, you have to believe that I love you.” He took my face in both hands and looked into my eyes. He was so intense and so serious it scared me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked at last.

  He placed another gentle kiss on my mouth. “Nothing I can’t make right.”

  He left me dazed and confused in the dressing room as he charged off to God knows where. I waited for long, agonizing minutes for him to return, but he didn’t. I was just about to go find him when his phone buzzed with an incoming message. I glanced down in time to see the photo as it popped up.

  My breath caught in my throat as I stared at his phone. I hadn’t meant to snoop; it was just crazy coincidence that I happened to be standing there right as he got the message.

  But the result was still the same.

  I picked up the phone and enlarged the photo, praying it wasn’t what it appeared to be.

  But it was. Fuck the bastard right in the ass, it was.

  It was a photo of Ariel Acardi. She was in the familiar suite at the local hotel where I had been romanced by not one, but two rockers.

  Worst of all she was naked and straddling Jonah. “See you next time,” it read.

  Bile rose in my throat as my heart shattered just like glass. It was a lie. It had all been a lie. Again.

 
Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tears poured from my eyes as I stared at that photo for what felt like forever. The longer I stared at it, the less sense it made to me. Why was he naked? Why was she straddling him? Why were they in bed, when the news clip showed them taping the segment on stage?

  Most importantly: why hadn’t Jonah filled me in on any of it?

  Finally I threw it aside on the sofa and hopped up to peruse the wardrobe rack for one very special outfit.

  When I walked out on that stage, Jonah was already there. He hadn’t even bothered to return. Why would he? I had been easily replaced. Upgraded, you could say.

  His eyes opened wide as he took immediate notice of the cat suit I was wearing. It was zipped down to the navel, to show off my brand new navel piercing I had just gotten that morning. After his “advice” yesterday and Mama’s revelations the night before, I needed a little pick-me-up, to remind me of who I was.

  Now I wanted the whole goddamned world to see.

  He took it all in, from the stilettos to the bared tummy to the red, lacy bra, a true tribute to “Blaze.”

  “Lacy?” he said.

  “You like?” I asked as I twirled around for his inspection, like a dutiful piece of meat.

  He had nothing to say, so I shoved a piece of paper into his hand. It was the new set we would be doing, full of angry anthems from rock goddesses who would have never taken the kind of shit I had, nor believed all the lies I was told.

  He sighed and headed off to the dressing room. I followed him, entering just a second behind him, right after he found his phone and the photo from Ariel.

  “You got a message while you were away,” I sneered.

  “I see that,” he said before tossing the phone onto the table.

  “I tried to call you last night,” I informed him. “All night in fact. I guess I know why you didn’t answer.” I waited for him to deny it, but he sat like a stone statue in the chair, unable to come up with any more lies. “Naturally when you didn’t answer I went online to see how the show was going. The pictures painted quite the story.”