by K. L. Myers
“So, they just get on the bus, knowing that they’ll be dropped off somewhere along the way, and they don’t care?” I ask, not understanding why any girl would agree to this.
Sean shakes his head at me and then tells me he is not so sure this was such a good idea, and I couldn’t agree more, but I’m not going to admit that.
“Look, Kayla, these girls know the score, yet they do it anyway. They are all hoping that one of the guys will fall madly in love with them and never let them go. They’re willing to risk it all for that chance, and honestly, most of them know there are no strings and they could be gone in five minutes, five hours, or five days.”
“Tell me, Sean, what is it that I need to know to survive the next thirty days on this bus without losing my shit on a daily basis.”
“Sit down, kid. I’ll get us some coffee, and we’ll have a little chat.”
Over the next three hours, I learn the lowdown regarding the band and its members. Rocky, the drummer, has a drug addiction to heroin. He’s been in and out of rehab for years but can’t seem to kick the habit. He’s almost killed himself twice while driving under the influence. The label gave him an ultimatum a couple of months ago, to either clean himself up or they were going to drop him. So instead of being high on drugs, he traded in one addiction for another and uses sex to get his high.
Tim, the bassist, who is known for his flying leaps, and Neal, the lead guitarist, both have wives but have very open marriages. The wives know that both their men have groupies on the side, but they don’t care; they just want the money and the bragging rights to say they are married to members of Razor’s Edge.
Then there is Michael; he plays the keyboards. He’s the quietest of the group, but he is anything but quiet when it comes to his sexual proclivities.
Lastly, there is Cayson. According to Sean, Cayson is the most level-headed one of them all. He lives a quiet life when not on tour and rarely leaves his house. His home isn’t a mansion in Paradise Valley but more of an upper-end home located in an upper-middle class gated community in Scottsdale. Cayson’s focus is on the music and solely the music. He doesn’t care about the wealth or the publicity; he just wants to sing. Oddly enough, when he was on stage, I could see that, but what I witnessed last night was anything but a level-headed guy. I guess only time on this bus will reveal who the real Cayson Razor is.
Chapter 4
Cayson
The minute Kayla walked onto the bus, I knew this was going to be a disaster. She immediately headed to my bedroom, which I gladly gave up when Sean asked just so I wouldn't have to see her 24/7. What I hadn’t taken into account was the shape I had left that room in. I knew there were still used condoms on the floor from last night's conquest. I was too hung over this morning to clean it up when we arrived in Seattle. I can’t help but wonder what she thought when she entered the room.
My brunette for tonight's adventures, I believe she said her name was Erika, wouldn’t have been my first choice, but as I got to the end of the crowds, I needed to pick someone or risk Kayla thinking I was a good guy. If she wanted the story of a real-life rock star, I was going to give it to her. As soon as Kayla is settled in my room, I let the brunette suck me off and then go to one of the spare bunks and climb in alone. I can tell Erika is a little disappointed that she isn’t getting my cock inside her, but then I rarely dip my dick in the groupie pussy pool. That isn’t to say I don’t get off on them sucking my dick, but sex is about intimacy, and I have no desire to get to that level with a girl who thinks so little of herself.
It is noon when I roll out of bed. I know I am the first of us guys to wake up. I can smell the coffee and am jonesing for a cup. When I enter the living area, I find Kayla sitting with Sean; they are quietly chatting and laughing. I don’t like what I see before me. They are a bit too chummy for my liking. Pouring myself a cup, I move toward the couch and take a seat next to Kayla.
“Good morning, Cayson.”
“Whatever.” When I’m around her, I can’t put more than two words together if my life depends on it. I don’t know what is wrong with me.
“You don’t have to be a dick about it. I just said good morning.”
I know I need to get my shit together quickly before I speak to her. “Sorry. Good morning. I need my coffee before I can hold any sort of conversation. Get back with me after I’m done.” As to emphasize what I just said, I tip my cup to my lips again.
Rolling her eyes, Kayla responds with a “Whatever.”
Now who is being a dick? I think to myself, but I don’t say a word; I just drink my coffee and listen to her conversation with Sean. There is something about her that gets to me. She isn’t like any of the women I know; she doesn’t worship the ground I walk on or expect anything from me. She surely isn’t groupie material, so that puts me at a disadvantage on what to say to her. I’ve never just sat and held a conversation with any woman other than my mother.
So, what do you do when you have no idea what to say to someone? You sit back and let someone else ask the questions and just listen. Kayla is twenty-six and graduated from UCLA with a degree in literature. Instead of seeking a career as an editor or publisher, she decided to write books for a living. She has published multiple books as an indie author, but this will be her first book being published by a traditional publishing house. Both her parents still live in Arizona, but unlike mine, her parents are still together after thirty-five years.
“No wonder you write romance. You still live in a fantasy world.” The words leave my mouth before the thought even runs through my head.
“Excuse me?” Kayla barks back at me
“You still believe in fairy tales, where everything is rainbows and pots of gold. Where good triumphs over evil and couples live happily ever after. I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but life isn’t a fairy tale. Good doesn’t always triumph over evil, and couples divorce on a daily basis. Did you know that over forty percent of all marriages end in divorce? And those percentages go up for people who get married a second or third time.”
Kayla stands up, walks to the sink, and places her cup inside. Before reaching the door to the sleeping quarters, she turns and speaks.
“I don’t live in a fairy-tale world, Cayson. I just believe that when you find the right person, you can make it work. Those couples that don’t last got married for the wrong reasons, which is why it was so easy to give up. When you truly love someone, you fight. Marriage isn’t easy; both people have to constantly work at it.”
Feeling like I have been scolded like a little child, I shoot back at her, “Well, writers like you are the reason my parents didn’t work. It had nothing to do with not loving each other enough. My mom got sucked in by all those stories and expected unrealistic things from my father. When he couldn’t live up to them, he left. Men don’t worship the ground that women walk on, Kayla. They’re human, they make mistakes, and they don’t always apologize for their mistakes, they don’t bring flowers home every night, and they don’t shower their wives in jewelry. So, why don’t you write about what the real world is like?”
“Are you sure about that? I mean, are you sure your mother and father loved each other as much as you think they did?” she says as she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
Looking over at Sean, for confirmation that I’m not wrong, I find him shaking his head.
“What?” I asked
“Nothing, you’re just an idiot, you know that, CJ?”
“Oh, fuck you, Sean,” I say as I stand and toss my remaining coffee down the drain.
Chapter 5
Kayla
I am completely frustrated with how I responded to Cayson. He made me so angry that I said the first thing that came to mind. I don’t know the circumstances of his family’s history, but I do know that relationships can last forever. My grandparents lived a happy, long marriage that only ended when they both passed away. My grams was the first to go, and my gramps was so devastated by losing the love of hi
s life, he died months later.
I’m not arguing that there isn’t a substantial amount of divorces, but I have done the legwork before I started writing romance novels, and I’ve met with hundreds of couples who have been married for over fifty years. The one thing they all said and had in common was that it isn’t easy. Every one of them said there were times when it would have been easier to give up but that it wasn’t an option. When weighing out going through living alone or struggling through the crisis together, they each said they were happy they never gave up.
I interviewed couples where the wife stayed at home and the husband provided. Couples where both of them worked. Some had children, and some didn’t. But one thing was sure: each of the men loved their wives so much they would have easily given their lives for the other, and the women felt the same way. All the women also said they felt appreciated by their men all the time. I know love could last a lifetime, but I’m not stupid to believe that it works out for everyone.
For Cayson to have such a low opinion on marriage and love, I know there has to be more than just books being the reason his parents divorced, even if he doesn’t believe it. Shaking off the conversation, I grab a towel from my suitcase and go in search of a shower. I know a nice warm shower is just what I need. Cayson is standing between the six bunks in nothing but his boxer briefs when I open the bedroom door. My God, he is gorgeous. His tan skin is taut across his abs, showing off just how fit he is. He isn’t overly muscular, just the right amount of muscle definition to show that he takes good care of himself but doesn’t spend hours in the gym. What catches my eye the most is the significant bulge in his briefs. He isn’t erect or anything, but I can tell that the package he is hiding is anything but tiny, let alone average sized. He is packing nothing less than sheer pleasure. The kind of pleasure that would have you feeling it for days when he was done. My insides clench at just the thought, and my betraying nipples harden behind my shirt. I can’t peel my eyes away from his lower half; it’s just that mesmerizing. Until he speaks.
“See something you like there, sweetheart? Just tell me, and I’ll show it to you, and if you ask nicely, I’ll even let you touch it,” he says with a laugh.
“You are such a pig. Don’t bother. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. It’s not like you have anything special,” I tell Cayson as I push past him and close the bathroom door behind, locking it.
I lean back against the door and cover my face with my hands as I let out the breath I have been holding. Good God, I need a cold shower now, not the hot one I had planned. Turning on the water, I step under the shower head trying to relax, but the thoughts of what Cayson would look like naked invades my mind. I try to concentrate on anything but his body, but have no luck whatsoever. Everything I try has me wondering what it would feel like to have his fully erect cock between my lips or sinking deep inside my pussy. Knowing the ache between my legs isn’t ever going to go away, I take matters into my own hands, literally.
I trace circles around my areolas before squeezing my breasts in my own hands. Massaging them lightly with my eyes closed, I imagine that it is Cayson’s hands. Sliding my other hand down, I reach between my legs and begin to rub my fingers over my clit in a circular motion over and over again. I feel the orgasm building inside me, and just as I am ready to explode, I thrust two fingers inside my core, pumping them in and out several times while applying pressure to my clit with my thumb. My body begins to tremble, and my legs begin to shake as the explosion rips through me.
A pounding on the door quickly sheds my feeling of euphoria. “You almost done in there? We don’t have a shit ton of hot water, Kayla, so hurry it up.”
Quickly turning off the water and wrapping a towel around myself, I call out, “Done! Be right out in a second.”
“What are you doing in there anyways? Masturbating to thoughts of me?” He laughs.
I reply with the only response I have. “You’re a pig. Now, shut up and let me get dressed, or I’ll turn the water back on and you can shower with cold water.”
I dry off quickly and get dressed. Brush out my hair and take a few breaths to calm my racing heart and frazzled nerves. I don’t need Cayson sensing just how accurate he was. When I pull open the door, a gush of steam blows out. Cayson is standing against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and one leg bent at the knee, his foot resting against the wall.
“It’s about time. Showers need to be quick, Kayla. In and out. Otherwise there won’t be enough water for all of us. Try to remember that next time, will you?” Pushing off with that one leg, he steps past me and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Chapter 6
Cayson
When Kayla opened the door, the steam blasted me. I knew there wasn’t going to be much hot water left, but that was okay, because I was going to need a cold shower anyways. She stood there in shorts and a pink tank. I don’t think she realized that I could see the outline of her nipples, or she would have put a bra on. Her tits were fan-fucking-tastic. My cock hardened as I brushed past her. I had made the joke about her masturbating in the shower, but it wasn’t going to be a joke for me. I plan on relieving myself to the fantasy of her sucking me off.
Stripping out of my jeans, I turn on the water and step into the shower. Squirting a little shower gel into my palm, I grab my junk and pull on it a couple of times. Closing my eyes, I picture Kayla on her knees in front of me in the shower, licking her lips and stroking me with her tiny hands. As I pull on myself, I imagine it is her hand stroking me from root to tip, her fingers soft against my flesh and her tongue licking the head of my cock before I slide between her lips and thrust until the head of my cock bumps against the back of her throat with each stroke. I can almost hear the sound of her moans as I tell her to suck it harder. It isn’t long before my fantasy has me exploding. As the water begins to run cold, I think to myself, This is going to be a long thirty days.
It is just after one in the afternoon when the bus pulls into San Francisco. We have a two-night show at the Oracle Arena, which means the comfort of a hotel for the evening. They guys are just waking up as I am leaving the bus to check out the venue. Kayla is right behind Sean and me, following along like my shadow. Lucky for me, she decided to put a bra on before she left the bus. I’m not sure I would have handled every prick around staring at her tits.
By the time I am done walking the arena and doing sound checks, the guys have finally shown up, and we are ready for rehearsal. Kayla takes a seat on the side of the stage on top of an equipment storage container, so she will be out of the way. The guys and I go through the set list one by one. In between songs, I would glance over at Kayla and find her writing in a notepad and oblivious to what the guys and I are doing.
When we are done with rehearsal, we all load back onto the bus and head to the hotel.
Sean has already checked us all in and starts handing us our room keys. I hear him tell Kayla she is welcome to join him for dinner. Before she can respond, I speak up.
“Thanks for offering, Sean, but she’s got plans already for dinner tonight.”
With a perplexed look, Kayla asks, “I do? With whom?”
“Me. I’ll stop by your room at seven.” Reaching out, I snatch my key from Sean and pull my baseball cap lower over my head, then make a beeline for the elevators.
I don’t know why I invited Kayla to join me for dinner. Usually, the guys and I eat together, but for some reason, the thought of her having dinner with Sean by herself seemed too much like a date, and it irritated me. I know that is not how he intended it to be, but I spoke the words before my brain caught up to my mouth, so now I am going to be eating alone with her.
Over dinner, I sign autographs for the few folks who pass our table and recognize who I am.
“Doesn’t it bother you not being able to have even thirty minutes to yourself to eat without being interrupted?”
“Nah, Kayla, I don’t mind. It’s all part of being the front man for the band. Wh
en people stop asking is when I know it’s time to give it up and retire. I love what I do, and this is just a small part of the inconvenience that comes with doing what I love.”
“I don’t know, Cayson, it seems like you’re giving up more than you’re receiving in return.”
Her words frustrate me for some odd reason. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours, and you’ve already come to a conclusion that you know my life better than I do. You don’t even know me, so how can you make that statement?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought if it were me, I would much rather have anonymity as opposed to being bothered each time I went out in public. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Kayla then wipes her mouth with her napkin and places it on the table.
“I’m done,” I say, tossing my napkin on the table as well. “Let’s get out of here.” Standing, I don’t wait for her to get up; I just walk ahead of her and out the exit. When I climb in the back of the Escalade and slam the door, Sean turns to me and asks.
“Where’s Kayla?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere behind me.”
“What do you mean, somewhere behind you? What the fuck, CJ. She was with you. Why would you leave her behind?”
“Just drop it, Sean. I don’t want to talk about it.” The Escalade door opens right at that moment, and a very quiet Kayla climbs in. The vehicle is in motion before she even gets her seatbelt on.
Chapter 7
Cayson
Tonight, we’re playing at a sold-out venue. The arena is completely packed, and every seat that is available is full by the time we take the stage. I have no idea where Kayla is; she wasn’t behind the stage when we got ready to go on, and I’m not about to ask Sean. I know he has tabs on her.
