Wicked Bad Boys

by Bella Love-Wins

  “It all sounds good. I need some time to clear my head before the show tonight. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  He didn’t resist me as much since our breakthrough chat. “Sure.”

  I stood up and took my suitcase down the hall, closely followed by the two guards Kevin had assigned to me when we arrived in town. There were actually four of them, but two were monitoring Kevin’s suite while Jenny and Fred checked out the bar. The four guards stayed in the spare bedrooms on the other side of my presidential suite, as did Larry. They rotated their station at the door. For the most part, they left Amanda and me alone.

  “Is everything okay? She asked when I got back inside.

  “Yes. Hey, let’s sneak out of here, I need a walk.”

  “You know I can’t do that, Lorne.” I loved that she was calling me by my real name all the time now.

  “You’re right, I guess. Kevin will be here in an hour or so, to head out for the show.”

  “How about the treadmill in the den?”

  “Okay.”

  We walked back to the bedroom so I could set down the suitcase and search for workout gear. She looked up at me. “You’ve got a lot going on, don’t you?”

  I glanced over at her. “A bit,” I said, debating whether this was the right time to tell her. I didn’t know why, but something was holding me back from confessing to her.

  We changed into our gym gear and went to the den. There was one treadmill. Amanda used an elliptical trainer while I ran.

  “You know the other day in the studio, after Kevin left, and I was recording my own song?” I started.

  “Yeah, what about it?” She asked.

  “Well, Terry, the producer, sent it out to a buddy. There’s a record label interested in working with me.”

  “That’s great! Congratulations.” She stopped her machine and turned to face me. The genuine excitement on her face nearly doubled me over. “That was one of the best songs I’ve heard in a long while.”

  “Thanks.” My voice thick with a sudden rush of worry. “Kevin will be a beast when he finds out. He’s got this whole plan for me and wants me to do it his way.”

  She started moving again. “I hear you.”

  Amanda stuck to her guns when it came to keeping out of Kevin’s and my affairs. I had told her about the meeting where he ripped up our contract, so she knew I had no formal ties to Kevin anymore.

  “I can’t walk away from Kevin. It’s a loyalty thing. It’s complicated.”

  “No need to explain.” she replied.

  I changed the subject, but not to the one that mattered. “You know what these hotel suites really need?”

  “What?”

  “Private malls,” I panted out as I ran.

  “How do you mean? For celebrities?”

  “Exactly. It could be up on the same floor, just like how they have in-suite conference rooms.”

  She let out a laugh. “How practical would that be for store owners?”

  “They don’t need to staff it. It would be no different from having a minibar in the room, you know? They bill us for that stuff after we check out anyway. Just imagine…unmanned kiosks, empty aisles, and just us, checking out the latest stuff. I’d buy you a cowboy hat for sure.”

  “Why a cowboy hat? I’ve never seen you wear one.”

  “That’s because you haven’t been to our ranch in Arizona.”

  “You’re from Arizona?”

  “Oro Valley born and bred, darling. There’s a lot more to this stud standing before you than you know.”

  “I guess I should have read your bio online. I never knew.”

  “Stick around, sweetheart. Anyhow, you’d rock the cowboy hats for sure. I’m not giving up on this mall idea just yet, though. Every one of them would have to come standard with an instant photo booth…It’s amazing the mundane things some of us miss…”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  I stopped the treadmill and stepped off, grabbing a towel. I was not serious, but I answered, “Hell yeah. I’d call it the Me-Mall. If I could, I’d go for iMall, but Apple would probably sue my ass before I got it off the ground. Think about it. There are thousands of people like me. People who get mobbed when they hit the public streets. Not just actors and musicians. Any top corporate executive, politician, members of royal families…any public figure. They all share my pain. I’m sure some of them are itching to walk down the street to buy a paperback or a scarf or something. All they’d need to do is check into any presidential suite with my private mall idea, and like magic, they can shop till they drop. I think it can catch on for sure.”

  She giggled and got off the elliptical. “It’s called online shopping, Lorne.”

  “Shopping online is not the same. Besides, wrapping a tape measure around your head is nowhere near as fun as trying on five different Stetsons in the Me-Mall.”

  She smiled. “Lorne, you must know there are regular malls you can book really late at night. They close off the entire place for people like you, and it’s only a measly ten grand or so to book.”

  “Yeah? I thought that was an urban legend.”

  “You crack me up sometimes,” she blurted out, chuckling as she caught her breath.

  I moved over to her and pulled her in tight from behind, pressing my groin against her ass. “And you make me rock hard all the time…Think we have enough time for a time for a quick romp?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Right here. Right now.”

  I turned her around and kissed her deeply. Amanda made no objection, kissing back, rubbing her hands down the back of my sweaty t-shirt. I drove my tongue into her mouth, urgent to enter her the same way. She groaned with desire, pulling away hastily. She slid her fingers between my waistband and pulled down my shorts, exposing my erection. She quickly dragged her yoga pants down and stepped out of them before closing in again. I picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I pressed her back against the nearest wall. I crushed my lips into hers. Our movements were quick, rushed, insistent. I needed to be inside of her, desperate for her touch, and for the private escape.

  I did not wait. I moved hard into her, all the way to the root. She was soaking wet, and moaned loudly, tilting her pelvis as I slid in and out of her warm sweetness, faster and harder, taking what I wanted to be mine for long after a week from now. She ground out that she was coming. I kissed her deeply, muffling her loud moans as her channel tightened all around my shaft, bringing me to my own release just after she crashed. Amanda rested her head on my shoulder, breathing just as heavily as I was. I kissed her exposed neck, noticing we had not even removed our tops.

  “How was that for a nooner?” I set her down on her feet.

  “Hot. Quick. Perfect.”

  “Good.”

  As we left the den, one of the guards stepped into the suite to let us know Kevin would be ready to head over to the bar in fifteen minutes. Amanda told him we would be ready and we headed to the master bedroom to shower and change.

  “Just wait until I get you in bed tonight,” I warned her.

  * * *

  Show time soon approached. Whiskey River was a small, antiquated saloon-styled bar. We entered through the back, and I was shown to a small dressing room, followed by Larry and my two guards. Amanda and the other backup singers were up next for their mic tests. I changed, and sat in the dusty chair that occupied one corner. I felt like crap. It seemed like had hit a tipping point, and was on the edge of a full breakdown. The end of the tour was just over a week away.

  She would leave.

  I had to do something. I had to tell her the truth, and then get her to stay somehow. I couldn’t see how, with everything else taking a toll on me at the same time.

  Amanda walked into the room to check up on me, and my heart stopped at the sight of her. She was wearing a deep navy cocktail dress that molded to her form, and was so low-cut, I was certain she was not wearing a bra.

  “Shit, Amanda, you’re
fucking hot in that dress,” I said, picking my jaw up off the floor. “I could rip it off you right now.”

  I stood up and took three strides to close the space between us. My hand went to her hips, and her arms crawled up my chest. I wanted to lock the door and ravage her in the dressing room. My body was on fire just watching her.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “To pick you up and take you against that wall? I sure am.”

  “Only if you’re ready for the sex tape fallout,” she teased.

  “Damn. Good point.”

  She looked hot as hell, and I needed her.

  “Let’s go out tonight, after the concert,” I said.

  “We can’t. You know that.”

  “Just for one drink, I promise.”

  “We have a full bar in the suite. I’ll make you a drink.”

  “Come on. I need to get away from everyone for a while,” I added.

  “If Fred and Kevin say it’s okay, I’m in.”

  “You know they won’t.”

  “All right, we gotta go,” she said, glancing toward the door.

  Then it hit me. She was going out onstage, dressed like that, for a room full of bikers?

  Oh hell no!

  Any man who dared to look at her twice tonight was liable to get my blood boiling, and given the frayed edges of my nerves, there was no telling what I would do after that.

  “Everyone ready?” Kevin asked, entering the room before I could finish the thought.

  Chapter 14 - Amanda

  The roar of the crowd was second only to the blood pounding in my ears as we took the stage. I raced across it, and felt Johnny’s fingertips slide down my arm as I left his side. Back in his dressing room, I had almost caved to going out for a drink together.

  Almost.

  I could relate. I was just as housebound as Johnny during this gig, and with just over a week until the end of my contract, he wanted to get in as much time together. At the same time, we couldn’t take any chances.

  I had not left yet, but already I was missing Johnny. Things had begun to feel so right between us. It was unrealistic to believe we could turn this short-term magic into something long-term. My life was back in Miami. He had a life in LA, and would be way too busy to make time for me once I left.

  Enjoy the now.

  I repeated the mantra. This was all that really mattered. The future had a tendency of figuring itself out, and I was not ready to turn into a blubbering fool over a week before I actually walked away.

  The stage lights went on overhead. There was a spattering of cheers in the crowed. It was show time. For me, that meant pretending I could belt out the high notes while I watched the crowd like a hawk. I took a deep breath and let the backup singers beside me do their thing on the tiny stage.

  The audience had an energy like nothing I had experienced so far on this tour. It felt more like my early days in underground cage-fight clubs—raw, dirty and with the potential for anything at all to trigger a scuffle. Looking out at the crowd, it was a rough-looking group for sure. It was spattered with the twenty or so private guards Kevin had brought in. Too bad they stuck out like sore thumbs. Most of the audience wore leather, plaid shirts with cowboy hats, or cutoff t-shirts, while the guards were in their all-black uniform consisting of dress shirts and slacks. Had I been asked for input, I would have done some intel beforehand and may have gone so far as to deck out the guards like their own biker gang. They could intimidate, or at least blend in more.

  I glanced over at Johnny as he handled the mic, and something about his posture seemed off. Was he nervous? Or just worked up about our conversation offstage? The song started, and he began to sing. I did my best to mouth along. My eyes were fixed on him. He seemed to be unsure of what to do with the crowd before him. They were all drinking and having a good time. No one paid much attention to him. There were no teen girls throwing themselves at him or people reaching up to hold his hand. Those fans probably knew better than to venture into a place like this. It seemed like without that connection to his fans, he lost some of his performing edge and stuck to wandering the stage like a lost puppy.

  The crowd was losing interest as fast as Johnny lost his confidence. The men at the tables in the front row were all much more focused on us backup singers than on Johnny. The rest of the ladies looked just as concerned. One of them gave us the signal to do our five-step dance number we had practiced during the wardrobe fitting earlier. We began to dance as the chorus kicked in, and her plan worked like a dream. The more we shimmied and worked our hips, the more the audience paid attention. It took Johnny awhile to notice what was happening, but when he did, his gaze kept moving from the crowd over to us, and back again.

  To his credit, he kept singing and never missed a beat. Toward the end of the song, we removed our mic handset from their stands and crossed the stage. We formed a tight semi-circle behind Johnny and did our dance steps. He rocked his hips along with us, a broad smile on his face as he sang. Halfway into it, he pulled me up front and backed me up against him.

  He held my hips, grinding his groin on my ass. His movements made his intent clear. He was claiming me as his in front of the entire crowd of rowdy men who were all drooling over us ladies. I shook my hips and drove him crazy right back, all to the whoops and hollers of the crowd. Our bodies meshed. His performance instantly became erotic. If we hadn’t been surrounded by a few hundred strangers, I would have torn off his clothes right there on that stage. I was so wound up as the song came to an end, I could barely wait for the ladies to retreat to our corner of the stage to cool off. He did well for next two songs, and now the people closer to the stage were into it.

  Out near the back and sides of the saloon, the men seemed to be getting rowdy. It was the way some of them gravitated to one section of the back bar, while others were backing away slowly. I noticed a few of our guards zoning in on the hot spot. My instincts kicked in, and I moved in ahead of Johnny just as I saw a man in the corner raise a beer bottle high in the air and crash it into a pillar beside him. Members of the audience reacted with a shared chorus of angry yells.

  And then it all started.

  A full-fledged, no-holds-barred, card-carrying biker-gang bar-room-brawl.

  Shit.

  This would have been pretty cool on a day off, but not on a night I was working. No wonder they didn’t bring their women out tonight. The guards Kevin hired were not prepared. They did not catch it fast enough. If they had found a vantage point like I did, they would have seen it erupting long before the man broke the bottle. Now that it was in play, there was no way to control it. There were troublemakers everywhere, with clusters of two, three and up to five men engaged in mostly amateur testosterone-filled combat.

  The band kept playing, and Johnny kept singing, but that was short-lived. They called it quits when a bar stool flew across the room and landed on the stage, right beside the base guitarist. My adrenaline kicked in, revving my body up like a machine. Fred, Larry and Jenny rushed out on stage with a few more guards, and just as they got to us, catastrophe struck.

  I felt a hand on my calf. I jerked away, looking down into the face of one man in the crowd. He was probably twice my size and looked like he had way more than a few beers before he pawed at me.

  “Come on, darling. Don’t be a tease,” he slurred moving his hand further up my leg. “I want to show you a good time.”

  “Yeah, come on down here and give us a lap dance, sweetheart,” his friend chimed in.

  Ripping his arm away, I backed away from the edge of the stage and out of his reach. His friend slung a leg up to jump onstage. That’s when Johnny broke free from Fred and Larry’s grasp, and jumped off the stage in front of the guy who touched me.

  Chapter 15 - Johnny

  “Johnny, no!” I heard Amanda’s muffled call from somewhere over my shoulder. Things had dissolved into mad chaos around us. People swarmed closer to the stage, most of them stepping over each other and starting new f
ights as the main event raged on at the back of the bar. I could hear her, but I could not pay her any mind. I was seeing red. That man in the angry mob who dared to touch Amanda—my woman—set off a fire of pure fury in me. I grabbed the front of his shirt with one hand, and pulled the other arm back to pound one out on his brazen, drunkard face. Someone to my right bumped into me, and someone else’s elbow swung into my left temple.

  I reared back and pressed a hand to the aching spot on my head where the blow had just landed. What the hell was I thinking?

  In my periphery I saw Amanda, Fred and a bunch of my guards jump down near me. Amanda was shorter than most of the guys in here by at least a head. Her crazy-high heels helped, but not much. I hoped she would not take them off with all the shattered glass from broken beer bottles crunching under my boots.

  I had to get her out of here.

  Now.

  “Amanda!”

  I heard a sickening crunch and turned to see Amanda stomping on some guy’s knee. She stepped over the writhing man and grabbed my arm. She pulled me close to her. The guards closed us in and dragged me to the back, only breaking formation when Amanda stopped and pushed another guy out of the way when he stepped into our path. There was no messing with her. She was in the zone.

  Amanda told the men she would meet us outside, and broke off from our unit. We passed the room that had been dubbed my dressing room. We rushed through the kitchen. It was calm, and strangely disconnected to the ruckus happening in the bar. We saw an emergency exit and a guard pushed through the door into the cool night air. Only then did I slow down, but they did not let me stop until I was safely in one of the guards’ SUVs. Less than a minute later, Amanda jumped in beside me. We both collapsed back against the seat back, trying to catch our breaths.

  “Holy shit,” she panted.

  “What the hell happened in there?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Where did you go?” I asked.

  She held up her arms and showed me my clothes from the dressing room, and her purse and things. “They can get the rest later. You have your phone, right?”