Jason came over and I wasn’t allowed to let him in. That was a fun battle with her safely hidden away all comfy on the couch, he and I growling at each other on the porch until he finally called me a fucking cunt and sauntered back to his Escalade, peacock feathers flared. At least he didn’t screech his tires like a child.
But still, hard-ass bitch or not, it’s wearing on me being around him. He smells so good, damn him.
It was worse when I had to be alone with Jason the next day. That half hour of hell was to kick his graphic designer in the ass for not meeting his deadline on the album cover. Jason wouldn’t allow me to handle it on my own.
“No fucking way! I’m not letting you damage the relationship I’ve built with him because you hate men.”
I didn’t argue that I don’t hate men, because Jason can think whatever bullshit he wants to about me. Fighting with him is helpful because it keeps me at a healthy distance that I suddenly need.
Ever since that accidental, prolonged kiss my brain has been upside down when it comes to this man. Especially after Simone told me he’s just passing time for her, that her feelings aren’t involved.
Knowing that insider information has spawned a grain of hope in me. Which is not only crazy, but stupid, too. Even if she ditched him tomorrow Jason would never see me the way he looks at her. I’m not the awe-inspiring type.
The night of the release party they left together. At first I felt totally fine with it. It’s four months now that I’ve watched them go, so it was nothing unusual.
But as I walked to our rented Lexus I made the mistake of glancing over as he slid his hand possessively onto the small of her back. Then he opened the car door for her and smiled with wordless, sexy promises of what he was going to do to her as soon as he got her alone. I should have looked away but I was frozen there in the parking lot, blushing from seeing what I shouldn’t see.
And when she arched toward him, all feminine flirtation and how he darkened with lust for her, I felt incredibly inadequate and pathetic.
When you spend your life next to someone with her kind of unattainable beauty, no one is going to gaze at you and say, “Holy shit, look at you! You’re so amazing.”
No, they’re going to say to themselves, “She’s not as hot as her friend.”
So I went back to the Airbnb house we rented and fell asleep with loneliness on my mind. And then to add fucked-up-ness to heartache, around eight o’clock the following morning I woke up aroused from a dream I didn’t ask for. It was of Jason doing all sorts of deliciously wrong things to me. I was even tied up at one point and damn if I didn’t enjoy it. Those pale green eyes held desire in them for the first time when they locked on me. And pleasure. He wanted me. I’ve never known that feeling until that horrible dream.
I woke up confused and guilty. Had to take a cold shower and drink more than two cups of coffee to get my head back on right.
Ever since, I’ve been extra rude to him.
And I’ve totally forgotten about the kiss.
Yeah, right. Keep lying to yourself, Sarah.
At least I have a break from him tomorrow when Simone and I go to New Orleans for her concert, alone.
I need this blessed break from Jason Cocker.
We’re on harmonies now. Simone’s doing them all herself and then he’ll blend the layered tracks. No need for backup singers, besides the choir.
She’s getting worn out. I just know she’s nearing the edge.
From where Jason sits at the digital Yamaha soundboard with his left hand fingers on two of the control dials, he twists in his chair and barks at me, “Will you stop fucking pacing!?”
I ignore him, like I always do.
But then he spins back around muttering, “Your vanilla perfume is distracting me.”
My head swings up as he huffs through his perfect nose and slams a button down to tell Simone, “Sorry, Beautiful. Start again.”
She can’t hear anything unless he pushes that button.
It’s how anyone on this side of the glass can discuss what’s wrong with a song without hurting the singer’s feelings. Not that there’s anything wrong with this song, but she didn’t hear him say, “Your vanilla perfume is distracting me.”
I’m distracting him?
Does that mean he hates this scent?
Or that he likes it…too much?
And here I am tingling again. Dammit!
“Tell Simone I have to tell her something,” I snap.
“After she’s done with this song.”
“She needs a break, Jason.”
He huffs again and drives two of the levers upward, reaching over with his right hand to turn a knob. There are hundreds of dials on that machine. It’s impressive and daunting to look at. But here’s the thing – I know how to use one of those little buttons.
The one to talk to Simone.
I reach over his arm and hit it, leaning in to tell her, “You’re at over two million views!”
She cries out, “I am!? Holy shit!”
He knocks my arm away from the console. She can no longer hear anything we say. He clamps furious, ice-green eyes on me. “What the fuck is your problem? We were in the middle of the recording!”
“You’re my problem, dick-for-brains! She has sung that song so many times you’re going to ruin her vocal chords before tomorrow night!”
He growls, “I want to get it perfect!”
“Perfection is fear.”
“Perfection is success, Sarah.” Pushing the button he says, “Hey Beautiful, let’s take a break.”
Her pretty blue eyes have been flitting between Jason and I, and she nods, reaching to remove her headphones.
Before she gets out here, I inform Jason, “I think two millions views and counting is a success. That video will launch the single, and then the album, all the way to number one! So stop riding her so hard because you’re obsessed with her. She needs to rest up before that concert.”
I’m only 5’2” and Jason Cocker is 6’2”, so when at the end of my reprimand he stands, my head has to crane back to hold his glare.
He growls, “I want what’s best for her, too. Now get off my ass, you little—”
Simone cuts him off with a tight jawed, “Jason!” as she walks in.
He cuts a look to her and demands, “Why does she always have to be here when you’re recording? I need to focus!”
Simone blinks in surprise. “Okay, I know you two don’t get along, but aren’t you overreacting here?”
Jason flips his baseball hat around like he’s gearing up for a pitch. “I need to be able to do my fucking job. And this one has it up her ass to block me every chance she can get!”
I dryly inform Simone, “I said you need a break before your vocal chords slash up and you can’t sing in New Orleans!”
“She’ll be fine,” Jason snarls.
Simone sighs, “Okay. I think we all need a break.” Walking to him, she lays her hand on his chest to say, “Sarah’s right. I’ve given you a lot of takes on that song. You’ve already got my best work. You’re just holding on too tightly to an idea.”
“Simone,” he groans in this hot way that makes my stomach clench against my will. “Fuhhhhck. Let me do what I need to do.”
“No, Jason, listen to it while I go take a nap. You’ll make platinum out of what we did today, baby.” She leans in and kisses him.
I have to look away because my stomach just dropped into the soles of my shifting feet.
This is how anyone would feel if they saw someone as handsome as he is, grabbing her hips like that. Any woman would wish they were her hips he had a strong hold of. It’s not like I have a crush on him. These feelings are just the normal responses of a straight, red-blooded female.
Keep telling yourself that, Sarah. If it’s true, why did that kiss hurt you in a deeper way?
“Okay, guys,” I mutter, wishing they’d just stop.
Simone pushes him off and smiles at me. I must be imagining it bu
t there’s a glint of something in her eyes I don’t like. Did she prolong that kiss to let me know he’s hers?
That’s ridiculous. Why am I thinking it?
“Ready?” she asks me.
“Been ready.”
I follow her out, but forget my purse. Turning around to get it I discover Jason’s eyes on my ass. He goes beet-red as I cock an eyebrow at him and walk more slowly to my handbag.
Simone calls back from the door, “Listen to the tracks while I’m resting, okay?”
“I’ll stay here,” Jason answers her, his voice distant.
As I pass him for the door, I mutter, “Yes, dog…stay.”
“Fuck you, Sarah.”
“You wish, Jason.”
The door shuts before he has a chance to snap back at me. As soon as we’re outside, Simone ruffles her hair with one hand and mutters, “Jesus, thought he was going to stop at the tenth take. What’s he want to do, kill me?” She pulls out her phone. “Thanks for saving me. Where do you want to eat?”
“I thought you were going to take a nap.”
With her thumbs tapping away to leave comments on YouTube, she shrugs, “No, I just didn’t want him to come with.”
Frowning as the asphalt blurs under our heels, I decide not to say anything. There will come a day when Simone falls hard for a man. I can’t wait to meet him. But from her attitude right now, Jason isn’t him.
Until recently I’d been waiting for the guy to eat dirt when she drops him. Hell, I’ve been looking forward to it with twiddling fingertips. But something’s changed. It’s not the kiss or my silly dream and the tricks it’s been playing on my body. I’m sure that isn’t it. I think it’s because I liked his idea about the choir. It’s truly inspired and maybe he does have the talent he’s so boastful about. I’m positive that’s the reason I’m feeling protective of him for the first time.
“You needed some girl time?”
She glances to my fake smile and shrugs again. “No, but eight hours today with Jason is enough, don’t you think?”
Pulling out the keys for our rental car, I mutter, “Totally. Yeah.”
Heading to the passenger side Simone looks up with glee. “It’s at two million, three-hundred-fifty-thousand now, Sarah!”
My eyes go wide. “Oh my God! I think this is it!”
Resting her hand on the roof of the Lexus she leans toward me. “Next rental car we get? A fucking Porsche!”
Laughing, I climb in at the same time she does.
As I turn on the ignition she lightly pinches my arm. “We’re heading the top baby!” Leaning back with her eyes on the phone, she adds, “And it’s all because I sang on that patio and Jason saw it. Huh…guess he is as good as he thinks.”
As I back the car out, I blink a few times in confusion. I knew he saw her singing but had no idea she’d spotted him in that door. I turn my head, trying to understand. “Didn’t Jason say he heard about you singing?”
On a self-satisfied smile, she meets my eyes. “He just did that to cover the fact that he was watching me the whole time. He’s always hanging around, acting like he doesn’t care. But he’s fucking obsessed with me.”
I nearly run into a parked car. Simone yells in time and I turn the wheel, almost skimming its flawless side. With a sharp intake of breath my heart races the way it does when you almost kill yourself. “Whew,” I breathe, staring out the windshield.
Reading my mind, she says, “Didn’t think I was that smart, did you? I see more than I let on.”
Why does this announcement make me nervous?
Jason
The next morning while I’m cooking brunch at home the door swings open unexpectedly. Into my loft strolls Justin wearing his usual uniform of expensive suit and tie, shoes shined to mirrors. “When do you leave for New Orleans?”
With a twist of my wrist I flip the breakfast-quesadilla in the air, and without losing any of the egg inside, it lands neatly back in the pan as I inform him, “I’m not going to the concert.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“Nope. I’m really not.”
He waits until he’s right next to me before crossing his arms. “Why the fuck aren’t you going?”
I answer flatly, “Because she didn’t ask me. And I need a break from Sarah.”
There’s been something going on between me and Simone’s assistant/friend that I can’t define. She’s growing harder to ignore. There I was recording one of the best voices of our time and Sarah’s close proximity to me was holding my interest more. I could hear her breathing like it was right in my ear. When she paced, her soft scent made me want to look to see what she was up to. And there on the other side of the glass was Simone Ross-Taylor crooning a future Number One hit. I knew it, but couldn’t seem to lock onto the importance of that. It was like I was…
Fuck it. I don’t know. I just need some distance.
As I turn my back to grab a beer from the fridge Justin says, “You produced the album. She’s debuting a song from it. You’re fucking going! And I’m going with you.”
Chuckling, “Oh, you are?” I throw him a can of Cadence beer.
He catches it, reading the label. “This from Reformation Brewing?”
“Yep, you need glasses or something? Why are you squinting?”
“Fucking computers have been eating away at my eyes. I’ve been meaning to try this.” He pops it open and takes a big slug.
My brothers and I only buy from local brewers when we’re in Georgia, and there’re plenty to choose from. Craft brewing has become the thing and we’re all on board.
“Verdict?”
“Fucking delicious. I got us rooms at Bourbon Orleans Hotel.”
Sliding the quesadilla onto a red plate, I cock an eyebrow at the visual. “Wait, are you saying that’s right on Bourbon Street?”
“Fuck yes,” he grins before taking another sip. “Location location location.”
Laughing I shrug. “Fine. I’m in.”
“You’re dying to be near the bitch anyway.”
I glance to him in surprise, mistaking which bitch he means. He misreads my expression and laughs, “What? You said don’t call her a whore! I didn’t say whore, did I? I called her a –”
“You’re such an asshole,” I mutter, pouring a good-sized glob of salsa onto the center of the circle.
“You’re going to eat that like a taco?” he asks as I roll it up.
I nod through a bite. With my mouth full, I explain, “Don’t feel like cutting up the triangles”
“And now I can see your half-chewed meal. Thank you for that.”
Opening my mouth wide and leaning toward him, I make a noise like someone showing their tonsils to a doctor.
Justin shakes his head like he’s the only adult in the room, and walks away from me.
“Concert’s tonight so pack your things.”
Quickly swallowing, I blurt, “Oh shit! That’s right.”
After listening to her song all day and night yesterday, and layering the harmonies until I fell asleep on the dials, her concert slipped my mind. I woke up needing a shower and some food. This is all I’ve had since yesterday.
Whenever I’m working I forget to eat.
My brother lowers himself onto my leather couch and picks up a Rolling Stone magazine. “My bag’s outside in the Audi. Get to it.”
There’s a single divider between the bed and the rest of the room. I’ve found the ladies like the illusion of privacy, even when I live alone, because Justin’s got a penthouse apartment two blocks from here and he comes over all the time. Has a key and never knocks. More than once he’s interrupted some hardcore fucking.
Throwing jeans from my dresser onto my king size bed, I call over the divider, “Did you notice at the last BBQ how Dad and Jaxson were acting?”
Thumbing through my magazine, he mutters, “Nope. Why, what’d you see?”
Frowning at the memory of the day Jax proposed to his future wife I call over, “They were really stif
f with each other.”
“Dad’s stiff, Jason. You know that.”
“Nah, it was like how he is with Jett. There was an anger between them. You didn’t see it?”
From a distracted place Justin mumbles, “I was too busy being pissed you guys didn’t include me in the surprise. Assholes. Hey, Simone’s not headlining right? Who’s she opening for again?”
“Jager Barris.”
“Who?”
“You don’t listen to the radio do you?”
Justin tosses the magazine onto my coffee table and I hear him kick his feet on top of it. If we were at Jake’s place those shoes would be at the door, not on my fucking table. I should start implementing that rule.
“I listen to podcasts and that’s it,” Justin tells me. “Face The Nation. Decode DC. Candidate Confessional. And those are just my top three. I don’t have time for music.”
My hand freezes while folding my favorite grey hoodie. “You don’t have time for music?!!”
“Nope.”
Jumping from behind the divider, I thrust my arm toward the door. “Get out of my house.” When he just sits there smirking at me like, come make me, I shout, “OUT.”
Chuckling, Justin stands, dusts off his slacks, adjusts his junk and cocks an eyebrow at me. “I’ll be in the Audi listening to anything but Simone Ross-Taylor.”
I lower my arm after he’s gone. “Dick. Who doesn’t have time for music?” As I fold more clothes into the black suitcase, I’m still shaking my head. “How are we even blood-related much less identical twins? I mean what the fuck?”
I’m so disgusted with him that I zip up the case, thinking how I’m going to ride his ass about time-management and lack of taste the second I climb in his car. I’m so focused on it I completely forget that Simone doesn’t know I’m coming. Which is why I completely forget to text her and let her in on the news.
Besides, why wouldn’t she want to see me?
Sarah
One of the bodyguards walks up to me backstage, his lips grim. “Someone wants a pass back here. He claims he produced Ms. Ross-Taylor’s latest album. I told him to fuck off, but he’s not giving up.”
Cocky Romantic: A Hot Romantic Comedy Stand Alone (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 4) Page 3
