She’s amazing.
And I just kissed her lover right in front of her.
I need to disappear.
Jason Cocker, what a jerk. He struts around like he’s the only one who can create a hit album. Like his schedule is more important than the one I set up for her. Like his amazing body, perfect nose and gorgeous green eyes are so incredible they’re going to make someone like my Simone change her semi-slutty ways so she can settle down in Atlanta and have his babies.
Yeah, right buddy. Never gonna happen.
She never opens her heart to any of the guys she’s fucking. Not one since I met her when we were both sixteen and she moved to Detroit.
Men are to be used. She’s taught me that.
Not that I use them.
Who has the time?
What am I supposed to do, juggle them between keeping her wild life on course and losing a much needed fifteen pounds that won’t seem to vanish from my hips!?
It’s fine. I’m not lonely. Men are not in my future, and that’s alright. I’ve gotten used to the fact that she gets the attention and it’s my place in life to sweep up the ashes she leaves behind in every city. That’s what I’ve been put on Earth to do.
And from what I see of men, I am not turned on by their actions so it’s no big loss for me to support Duracell single-handedly. Pun intended.
The games they play! No, thank you. And for God’s sake, the whining to me after she tells them it’s over! It’s sad and so unsexy. I have to pat their backs and tell them, What’d you think was gonna happen? Grow some fucking balls. Don’t use up all my tissue. We still have a show in Austin, Texas.
Also, I never get asked out, so that’s good.
I’m saved the annoyance of dating by the sheer fact that when you’re only ‘average’ it’s nearly impossible to get noticed next to a glowing flame like Simone.
Maybe it was because of my inexperience that Jason’s lips had this vibrational effect on me.
My longest relationship was mid-college and lasted a mere two months long. It ended the night I handed him my virginity and he groaned in my ear right afterward, “Shit.”
“What?”
“Didn’t mean to do that.”
There I was underneath him and also under the false impression that maybe I could love the jerk (I was a bit naive then), so for the life of me I couldn’t understand the meaning behind his slurred statement.
Tracing his few chest hairs I asked in my softest voice, “You didn’t mean to do what?”
He was so wasted he didn’t think to pause and consider a girl’s feelings before confessing, “Simone will never date me now that I fucked her best friend.”
Sucker punch to the gently-used vagina.
The two months I thought we were dating were really him just hanging around me to be close to her. Then Vodka entered the picture and my virginity exited.
Yep. One time I had sex.
Not once upon a time, because that would suggest it was a fairy tale experience. I wish it were make believe. But it was very real.
And now those five debilitating words have come back to haunt me all over again.
Didn’t mean to do that.
Ouch and sigh and fuck you.
I’m outta here.
“Sarah!” she calls at my back.
With my heart slamming in my chest I glance over my shoulder. Simone is following me, her white wings hitting people on the way. Even furious and confused she looks stunning in a form-fitting, low-cut, white gown, petite breasts bouncing. So many of the other women at this party went for mini-skirts or even the whorish-thong choice.
Simone looks like she could be the beautiful bride to Archangel Gabriel himself.
Me? I went for angel-casual and I’m secretly very proud of my halo made from tiny white flowers.
But next to her I know what I look like.
Invisible.
Bursting out the warehouse’s back door into smoky air, overlapping conversations and twinkle lights, I stare at the asphalt beneath my heels in an effort to lay the bricks down around my psyche before she arrives. I just need a second to put my wall in place again! I hate the sudden ache in my chest, especially when my lips are still buzzing from his.
Why did it have to feel so good? What a fucking asshole that guy is!
She explodes through the door, grumbles, “Shit!” as one of her wings rips on it and storms at me, “What the hell was that kiss, Sarah?”
“Let me get it,” I mutter, digging into my handbag for a safety pin. “Turn around.”
There’s no hesitation on her part since I’ve fixed her stage costumes countless times over the years. While my shaking fingers nearly stab each other, I wrestle to secure her wing.
Over her shoulder she demands, “Well?”
“If you’d walked up a second earlier you’d have seen me slapping him! It wasn’t a kiss, Simone. Some guy shoved me into him when he was up in my face! Hold still.”
Planting delicate hands on her slender hips, my blonde superstar lets out an aggravated sigh. After a silent moment she mutters, “You slapped him?”
“Yep. Wasn’t a light slap either.”
Never really hit him because he ducked and grabbed my wrist, but that’s not important right now.
“I wish I would’ve seen that,” she smiles. “You fix it?”
Patting her back to let her know she can turn around, I prepare for the lie. As she turns on me with questions in her beautiful blue eyes, I reassure her, “The kiss was awful. Like kissing rubber. How do you put up with that guy?”
Believing me, she finally releases her ego and admits, “He’s just to pass the time. I like attention. You know that.”
“Why’d you get upset with me then?”
She thinks about it. “I don’t know. Because I was supposed to, I guess?”
Exhaling relief, I mutter, “Jeez…I was scared I’d stepped way over a line even if it wasn’t on purpose.” Off her amused shrug, I shake my head. “You really love drama, you know that?”
She leans in to whisper in my ear, “No, Sarah, I make drama.” Pulling back she winks, “It’s why they pay me. I’m not boring.”
“They pay you because your music makes them dance.”
Simone laughs with a twinkle in her eye like I know nothing. “There are a lot of singer-songwriters out there. I’m headed where I am because I know how to entertain people. Part of that is creating heat. Drama is fire.”
“Which I always have to put out,” I mutter, glancing around the crowd of mostly smokers, a warm Atlanta breeze wrapping around us all.
A spark lights her eyes and Simone calls out, “Everyone!”
People turn, their conversations momentarily thrown on pause.
After a few beats of silence, right before things get awkward, Simone opens her lips, inhales a soft, deep breath and begins to sing her new, unreleased song Just For Me.
You used to say you needed me.
But you really needed you.
Watch me sleep-walking awake.
Going the distance it’ll take.
To heal this weeping wound.
Can’t let heartbreak find me
Before you come back too soon.
Can’t change my mind.
Don’t force a try.
This is just for me.
I need to leave the you that formed the we.
And walk away to put the past to sleep.
So I can have a future worth having…
Just for me.
It’s an abbreviated, a cappella rendition and when Simone closes her eyes and goes quiet, everyone is silent at first because they’re stunned.
The beautiful creature I call my friend was given a gift by God. While I know she’s no angel, she sure does sound like one.
Everyone goes nuts with applause, rushing forward to thank and try and talk to her.
In awe, I’d stepped back for her to take the stage when the song began. And there’s a tear in the corner
of my eye.
With a sweet, shy smile Simone nods gratitude at their praise. She holds her hand up and motions for me to come to her. “Everyone, I want you to meet Sarah Daly, my personal assistant and best friend. Couldn’t be where I am without her.”
Blushing bright red I glance around the faces as I receive fresh applause, walking to her side. The attention is too much for me, so as Simone begins to answer questions like, “Did you always know you were going to be a singer,” I turn away to disappear.
I’m much more comfortable in my usual state of anonymity. It’s where I spend all my time. I like it. Hence the wall.
But as I go to hide I’m surprised to lock eyes with Jason’s narrowed gaze, those pale green irises slicing into my bloodstream in a way they shouldn’t be able to. I feel his presence all the way down to the arches of my feet.
Standing in the doorframe of the warehouse in a form-fitting, extremely sexy black suit, Jason Cocker holds my look as he starts to slowly clap, like he hates me.
I glare at him, cock my head a little, and give him the finger, mouthing, I hate you, too.
He turns and disappears back inside the party.
Staring after him, my face softens. Now if I can only forget how good you taste.
Jason
Back inside, one of the record company executives approaches me. “Jason, just the man I was looking for.”
“Mark,” I greet him with a frown, my mind on the women.
“Quite a party. My favorite aspect of my job, the groupies,” he smirks, casting a quick glance around the undulating dance floor. “Perfect location, by the way.”
“Gave us the space we needed,” I nod, still distracted.
“So, I was thinking we promote the release with the single, Time Doesn’t Fly.”
“Nope. We’re going with Just For Me.”
His eyebrows rise and he crosses his arms, unconvinced. “I think the other one is more of a dance tune.”
Tune? Man, I get that you’re square and older than your dye-job would have me believe, but come on.
The suits behind the magic never get it. They can’t. Music isn’t in their blood. Money is.
“Mark, if you just heard what I did you’d know Just For Me is going to be huge.” He looks at me with curiosity. Motioning toward the outside smoking area I tell him, “Simone just did an a cappella version of it for the crowd back there that was so fucking good I have no choice but to remix a version in that direction.”
“Really,” he nods, interest piqued. “She just sang out of the blue like that. Hell of a press idea. We should film it.”
“You said no cameras,” I remind him.
“That was before,” he smirks. “Know anyone?”
“Of course I do. This is my city. Give me half an hour.” I walk off and pull out my phone to call my buddy Jimmy Vay, a videographer who covers a lot of the live music events here in Atlanta. In a matter of seconds he confirms he’ll be here. I nod to Mark across the room. His stiff co-executives lean in while he presumably tells them the plan.
But now I have to convince Simone. And frankly my feelings about her are a little muddled at the moment and I don’t know why.
“I need a second to get my head back on straight,” I mutter, alone as I watch thongs jiggling in front of me. From between them Justin emerges with his hair all fucked up. The look on his face makes me smile. “That good, huh?”
“Dirty little angel, that one,” he smirks. “What’s with your face?”
“You mean your face?” I throw back, pointing at him. “You’re so fucking pleased with yourself, it’s hilarious.”
He frowns, “Yeah, well yours looks like you just faced a guillotine.”
“For my balls, maybe,” I snort, unable to deny he’s read me correctly. “I have to convince Simone to sing a cappella. And I might have to go through Sarah to make it happen if she turns me down. Not looking forward to it.”
“The attention-whore won’t balk.”
Pushing his shoulder, I warn him, “Don’t use ‘whore’ in reference to her ever again, ya hear me?”
Unfazed he smirks, “Attention-whore is not a prostitute. It’s a common term. Don’t get your boxers in a bunch.”
My shoulders relax. “I’m going commando.”
“Me too,” he grins. “Helped enormously just now.” He cocks his head. “Why are you so tightly wound up all of a sudden? When I left you…”
I’m one breath away from confessing I accidentally kissed Sarah but instead I interrupt him with, “Simone just did the song for an audience, and she’ll think it’s inauthentic to perform it again for a camera.”
He scoffs, “A hundred bucks you’re wrong.”
“You owe me two hundred already.”
“Great, then after I win I’ll owe only one.”
“Get ready to owe me three.” I stroll back out into the twinkle lights with him following. Simone is centered like a firefly in a swarm of gnats. Damn is she beautiful.
Her redheaded she-bitch glances over at our approach and her jaw hardens instantly. Our eyes lock for a second longer than they should and mine narrow on her. It’s not easy to look away for some reason.
“Simone,” I call out, all business. At my tone and mid-sentence, she glances over. “Need to talk to you.”
“Excuse me, everyone,” she smiles. They part to let her by, but their eyes linger. Men and women, they both worship her for different reasons.
My twin coughs. He can’t wait to win.
“What is it, sexy,” Simone smiles.
“Oh, no, it’s Jason who’s talking to you, Simone. Not me. Direct your compliments his way.”
She throws him a look. “I meant him, Justin.”
As my brother winks at her I glance to Sarah again and find her watching me in an unguarded way. She turns her face, acting like I didn’t just catch her.
Back to Simone, I inhale and shove my hands in my pockets, voice deep and nonchalant as I explain, “We heard about your singing out here, and Mark wants to video you doing it again, inside to the bigger crowd. For publicity.”
Her slender eyebrows fly up as her cherub lips fall open. “Really?”
Phew. She is a stunner.
Simone is the type of beautiful I fall hard for – the ethereal, waif types. Like Bernie Lancaster and half a dozen other women who’ve held my balls in a sling. Tall, lanky blondes that look like they could be fairies in a flower-laden forest. And the fact that Simone can sing is like pouring lighter fluid on my cock.
“And I came up with an idea for the remix where we do it solely a cappella until the very end.” I pause for effect. “Then we’ll have a boy’s choir come in and harmonize.”
That inspiration just hit as I was talking.
That’s how good I am.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, into it.
Sarah had been standing back, listening. At this she steps forward with that stubborn face of hers. “We have to be getting back home, Simone.”
“Why?”
The women lock eyes and a silent battle takes place. Throwing up her hands, Sarah steps back into the shadows. “Fine.” She locks eyes with me for a hot moment. She hates my guts. Strange kiss or no, the feeling is mutual and stronger than ever.
“I think that sounds amazing, Jason,” Simone smiles, touching my lapel. “I’m so glad I thought of it.”
My brother snorts.
As her eyes cut his way, I explain, “She did think of it. She sang it a cappella without my knowing she planned to do that. Hell, I only heard about it. Wasn’t even a witness.”
Why am I lying about that?
“Making it an actual song is your idea,” he argues. “And the choir is all you. I saw your face just now. That idea just hit you so don’t play it off like it was her.”
Knowing the ego of music artists, I hastily deflect, “Simone’s a genius. She would have come up with that on her own.”
Now Sarah snorts.
Simone turns her head
, making her redheaded friend drop the entertained smile.
Simone’s neck lengthens as she slides her arm around mine to lead me back to the main party. She smiles at me like I’m the only man on the planet. “When are we going to film?” Over her shoulder she asks Sarah, “You did fix my wing right? You didn’t fuck it up more?”
I glance back and frown. It stung Sarah to be talked down to like that as if she’s some incompetent servant, and in public. Simone never talks to her that way. An odd protectiveness overtakes me as the redhead forces a smile and answers, “Of course, Simone, you look perfect.”
I’m about to say something. Why I would cut my own dick off to come to that tiny she-bitch’s aid makes no sense to me, but here I go opening my mouth to call Simone out. My words die on my tongue when she squeezes my arm and smiles up into my eyes, numbing my brain with her beauty.
Under his breath Justin mutters, “Won the bet.”
“What bet?” she asks me and not him.
“He bet me I wouldn’t bum a cigarette.”
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“Just quit. He’s keeping me honest,” I smile, glancing to my brother with a look that says if you tell her I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life, I’ll knock you out.
He really wants to tell her what he thinks of her, and that I just lied. It would make him happier than when he was balls deep in that woman earlier to get Simone so pissed that she might fuck up her performance, and then blame me. That would make Justin’s whole year.
Because he hates every girl I’ve ever dated.
Always has, always will.
Off my warning look he licks his lips and smiles.
Sarah
With delicate hands on her lucky light blue headphones, Simone is singing Just For Me in the sound-booth for the millionth time.
I wanted to be home in Detroit by now.
It’s been a week since that party.
Everyone had to recuperate from their hangovers, emotional and otherwise.
Simone needed an extra sauna day to heal and prepare her voice.
Then she wouldn’t get out of bed one morning and declared it Netflix day, so I had to reschedule for one more day of hibernating in our Airbnb.
Cocky Romantic: A Hot Romantic Comedy Stand Alone (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 4) Page 2
