She doesn’t stop at one lick either, but flicks her tongue around like she can’t get enough of the taste of me, like she’s on a mission to prove her dominion over me. She’s got it. I’m utterly, utterly hers. She’s blasted me off into the stratosphere and is now wriggling a fingertip into my arse in a way that literally has me dying from excitement.
My dick is back to being poker hard, and I’m straining upwards towards her touch, when the sound of a key card being rammed into the door lock completely fucks up the moment.
“Dane, I thought we had a rule about not bringing your groupies back to the room.”
The intruder is Joel then, and he’s seen the clothing strewn across the carpet. Loveday and I have enough time to roll off the bed and pull the duvet down on top of us before he traverses the little bit of corridor the bathroom is off before he enters the bedroom proper.
We sit huddled between the two twin beds, both doing our best to shield her modesty. Having left me to handle Knox on my own, Joel doesn’t deserve any sort of treat, and catching a glimpse of Loveday’s hot body is awesome visual candy.
“I thought you were sharing next door with Knox, and I was bunking with Nate.”
“Knox is in the bathroom,” I say, which stops Joel in his tracks. His neck swivels round, so he can confirm what my voice has already told him. That it’s not Dane he’s walked in on.
“Nate? I thought you were working on the song.”
“Was,” I confirm. “Stuff happened.”
I’m doing my level best to keep Loveday out of sight, but Joel still sees her. The moment it happens, his eyes narrow thoughtfully, and his lips seal themselves as if he’s holding back a long string of questions. I suppose given what he was demanding of me when we last spoke, he’s probably wondering if finding me in flagrante with her is a good sign or a bad one.
“You’re fucking a member of Bitch Slap,” he says, his tone uneasily neutral.
“Has fucked,” Loveday corrects him. “We were contemplating round two.”
Actually, technically I think she was already fucking me.
“OK.” Joel stills, weighing up how to take that. I can tell from the V-shaped furrow in the centre of his brow. “Do we need to talk, Nate?”
I wish that was an actual question that I could give a negative response to, because I know what he’s going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. I know what I’m going to have to tell him too. He’s going to like that even less.
It’s still going to have to be done. “Bathroom,” I say to Joel, making a thumb signal.
I give Loveday one last enormous smooch. “You might want to leave, it’s going to get grim round here. Possibly violent.”
“Maybe I should hang around and protect you.”
I shake my head. “Best you don’t. I’ll see you at six.”
I hurry after Joel, not bothering to cover up. I’m just crossing the threshold to the bathroom when the string of F-bombs goes off. Fatoomsh! Fatooms! Fatoomsh!
Loveday’s right behind me, hands strategically positioned across her breasts and pussy. She grabs a hotel bathrobe from the closet and bolts into the corridor leaving only the impression of her lips and her scent behind.
Joel barrels straight into me. He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me hard.
“What the fuck, Nate? What the frickin, fuck! Is he stoned, dead, what? I’m assuming he’s not dead, since you’ve tucked him in, and you were screwing?”
An irate Joel leering at me at this hour of the morning is not a pleasant experience. It’s no surprise that my balls attempt to hide, and my dick curls up. It bitterly resents—as do I—that Joel’s arrival has scared off its dream date. Fuck the issues with Knox, I want to say, just bring Loveday back.
I wonder if we’ll still be speaking come six o’clock.
“Where is she?” Joel asks, noticing her absence.
“Gone.” Just saying that hollows out a cavern in my chest.
Exasperated, he raises his hands in the air, which at least means he stops shaking me. “Tell me you asked her. There has to be some kind of silver lining. Tonight can’t actually be the fuck up of the century.”
“I haven’t asked her.”
“Why the fuck not?” he yells before I get a chance to answer any of his questions about Knox. Then again, maybe they don’t need answering, given Joel’s already figured out what Knox’s condition means for the band.
“We have a bass-player, Joel. I’m not sacking him. We went over this earlier.”
“We have a bass-player,” he mutters wearily. “You mean the stupid bugger’s actually still alive. ‘Scuse me if I think that’s a pity.” He pulls at his curls. “Bastard hasn’t even the decency to croak.”
I know…or rather hope, that Joel’s venom is just talk, and that he doesn’t actually wish Knox ill. It used to be they were good mates until Knox started lighting up at every opportunity. Joel gets prickly over regular smoking.
“He spewed everywhere and needed a wash down, which is why he’s in the bath, but he’ll be fine,” I explain. “Loveday helped me get him out of sight before one of Graham Callahan’s people accidently clapped eyes on him.”
“She just happened along and played the Good Samaritan.”
“Hm.” He doesn’t need to know the details.
“And what, you decided to fuck her as a thank you?”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
“She’s a member of fucking Bitch Slap. If you aren’t trying to poach her, you stay the fucking hell away from her, Nate. She’s the enemy. One of the shits that’s going to steal our thunder, because dick brain in the bath here screwed up again.” He gesticulates wildly with his hands as if he’s not sure what to do with them. Eventually, they form into fists and he drags them down to his sides.
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of him being functional in time to see Callahan?”
“Probably not. Maybe if we were performing at six in the evening.”
“Fucking shitbag!” Joel kicks the bathroom door, causing it to bounce back and forth on its hinges and make a screech-thud sound. It’s a wonder it doesn’t come loose from its moorings altogether.
“Cool it,” I warn him. None of us can afford to pay damages for broken hotel property.
“Cool it! Dammit, Nate, why the fuck is he still part of this band? And don’t you dare say you promised his mum. You did not fucking promise his mum. Watching out for him, isn’t the same as taping his arse to a bass guitar and hoping he’ll make sweet music. We can’t keep dealing with his screw ups.”
“It’s one screw up.”
“Of epic proportions. If he’s not with it…If we don’t play, that’s it. You realise that, don’t you. We have one shot with Graham Callahan. Just one.” He draws his fingers across his eyes to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “Why didn’t you come and find me when you realised he was like this?”
“Couldn’t exactly leave him, could I?”
“But you could have phoned, left a message. I’d have read a message.”
“Guess the one I sent saying, ‘I require your fucking assistance pronto,’ wasn’t explicit enough? Or didn’t you read that one?”
Joel turns away sheepishly for a couple of seconds. “If you’d put Knox is fucked, I’d have come.”
“Yeah, in your pants because you’re just looking for an excuse to get rid of him.”
“Damn right,” he shoots back at me. “You know why, Nate?” He shoves me into the brightly lit bathroom, and then tears back the shower curtain, tugging the rail right off the wall in the process. “This is why. This.” He points at Knox, who is currently a not too dissimilar shade of off-white to the toilet bowl. “He’s fuck all use to anyone. The only function he serves is to hold us all back. So I say fuck him.” He kicks the bath panel. “He’s about to cost us all our tickets to the big leagues. We had this. This tour was a cert, now because of him we’re going nowhere.”
I let Joel rant. There’s no
sense in interrupting him. It’s not like I can refute what he’s saying.
“One of us ought to have kept a proper eye on him,” I say when he finally quietens a little.
Joel just shakes his head. “A babysitter isn’t the answer. The guy needs a brain transplant and some functioning balls.” He jabs Knox in the shoulder. “Wake up, dick brain.” The poke garners no response, prompting him to make the second jab a lot harder. “I said get up. Get the fuck up, Knox, you fucking wanker.” He tries to manhandle him out of the tub, by hooking his hands under Knox’s arms.
“Joel, stop it. Just stop it.” A damp, naked Knox splattered all over the floor isn’t going to improve the current situation.
I try and insert myself into the space between them, which earns me a smack in the face.
“Bastard,” I curse, staggering backwards, clutching my nose. I don’t think Joel’s done any real damage, but it still smarts. I blink, as multi-coloured blobs float before my eyes and my ears pound as if there’s a monkey pummelling the drums inside them. “For God’s sake, will you just leave him be? Mauling him isn’t going to fix anything.”
Joel curses some more, and his fists remain tightened.
“Really?” I say, raising my fists. “Do we need to duke this out?”
He looks at me, standing there stark bollock naked and gives a short dry laugh. “We are so screwed.” He sinks down on the spot and puts his head in his hands.
I sit too, with my back against vanity unit.
Today ought to have marked the biggest highlight in Paradise Kiss’s career. Instead, it’s likely to be the date of our demise.
“I should have known,” Joel mumbles into his palms. “The whole fame thing, touring, it was never actually going to happen. I don’t even know why I let myself believe.” The despair and resentment that bleeds into his words, makes me realise exactly how much hope he had riding on us making it. Knox has blown that for him and by association so have I. Joel and I might have been on opposing sides most of the night, but we’re still mates, and I hate seeing how torn up this is making him.
Of the four of us, Joel has the most outwardly normal background. Two parents, two and a half siblings, a nice family home in the suburbs. It’s just they’re all stark raving bonkers. His mum’s losing her mind to dementia, his dad’s lost a leg to diabetes and forgets to take his meds on a regular basis, and his older siblings both have Multiple Personality Disorders. The youngest, his step-sister, fled the country two years ago to traverse the Amazon basin. I know he wants this gig because he needs the money to buy in additional help, and move his parents to sheltered accommodation, but it’s not reason enough to destroy Knox.
The band is the only thing keeping him vaguely together.
“You could have solved everything, Nate. All you had to do was ask her. I mean explain it to me, how is it OK to shove your dick into her, but not to hand her a passport to success?”
I pull my knees up before me and rest my chin on them. “Maybe I don’t want to drag her into our shit.” I don’t have a sensible explanation. Nothing that’s happened tonight between me and Loveday has made the remotest bit of sense. I’m not sure I want it to.
“We don’t have anything to offer her, Joel. She doesn’t need to ride our coat tails, she’s talent by the bucket load, and Graham Callahan has offered Bitch Slap the exact same opportunity that he’s offered us. There’s no reason for her to band hop, and I won’t ask it of her, regardless of the situation with Knox.”
Joel shakes his head, over and over, as if he can’t actually stop. “That’s not true. What you’re saying about her having the same deal on the table that we do—it’s not. It might seem that way, but it really isn’t. I’ve been talking to one of Callahan’s assistants. He really wants us. He’s not even remotely serious about signing Bitch Slap, hell they’re not even a serious band. They only exist to piss your brother off. Anyway, this whole perform your best song at six thing is just a gimmick to test us.”
“Really?”
He nods.
“Well, if that’s true, maybe it doesn’t matter if we perform.”
“Big risk,” Dane says from the doorway. “I take it we have a problem.”
THIRTEEN
Loveday Trevaskis
“Where the fuck have you been?” Jessie demands as I slink back into our hotel room as quietly as humanly possible. I’d hoped she was asleep, but I guess that was too much to ask. The lights were off, but she clicks the lamp on as I stumble my way towards the bed, which paints the room with a soft bronze glow. “Where?”
I shrug. “Went for a wander.”
Considering the current time, I decide it’s probably not worth getting into bed, especially when it means climbing in beside Jessie, whose glower makes her look as if she’s auditioning for a role in the next post-apocalyptic blockbuster, so I turn to my suitcase and pull out some fresh undies, jeans and a tee.
“You fucked him,” she says, like she knows it without a shadow of a doubt, because she’s somehow managed to track my movements while I was out of her sight. She gets out of bed, comes up behind me, and slaps her hand on my shoulder as if she’s about to make a citizen’s arrest. “I can’t fucking believe it, Lowdy. Jesus, you stink of him.”
Stink’s a bit of an exaggeration, surely. Though there’s definitely a trace scent of his aftershave on the dressing gown. Or maybe that’s just how the hotel linen smells.
Either way, I refuse to feel guilty.
“Why’s it so damned difficult for members of this band to keep their knickers on?”
I respond with another shrug, this one backed with a smile, as I step into a clean pair, these ones white with cute little heart detailing. I guess I left the others behind on Darke’s bathroom floor.
I notice Ivy’s staying remarkably quiet. She’s definitely awake though, I can see her eyes and nose peeping out from under the duvet.
“I knew you were going to do it the minute you clapped eyes on him. It was there in your face, you were just eating him up with your stare,” Jessie continues.
I don’t argue with her. I learned not to bother, back when we were five. It’s interesting though, because I’m pretty certain my first thoughts about Nathaniel Darke weren’t of licking him. They concerned the fact he was prepared to stand back and let us gang up on his brother, so long as we didn’t get too rough.
“You’re mind’s always in the fucking gutter.”
“Better than being a prude.”
A shudder rolls right up her spine. She pulls her shoulders back and stands tall. “I’m not.”
She so is. Jessie, for all that she enjoys dressing like a rock groupie, actually believes Dane’s a pervert for enjoying coming all over her tits. I, however, rather enjoyed Darke coming all over mine. Not that I planned for it to happen. Same as I didn’t anticipate him whispering a whole host of dirty words in my ear, or sticking my fingers in his arse. In fact, I’m pretty sure my plan was to keep my distance, because Nate Darke has bad news written all over him.
He’s covered in insects, skulls and snakes, for Pete’s sake.
Too bad fate seems to have different plans.
Is it wrong that I want the zombie apocalypse to happen all over again now? I want to meet him on the stairwell again, drag Knox up the stairs, and then fall into Darke’s arms. The only difference I’d make, is that Joel Ashton wouldn’t show up and cut things short. Instead, we’d stay in bed, I’d work Darke up into a frenzy, and then he’d take me for another ride on his glorious cock.
Glorious—yes, I’m not just waxing lyrical.
I probably ought to have written something on it, and not just on his stupidly cute arse. Maybe, a property of label.
“You’re not even sorry.” Jessie grabs me by the elbow and spins me round to face her. She’s dressed in little pink shorts and a vest top, but still manages to look like the bitch queen of hell. I refuse to let her rage diminish my good mood. I’ve been exceedingly well fucked, so that I’m still t
ingly from it between my thighs, and I’m determined to hold onto the fuzzy warmth it’s created in my chest for as long as possible.
“I’m sorry you’re upset by it.” That’s as much of an apology as she’s going to get. I haven’t betrayed the band, and it’s not like I slept with her ex. I just let myself get caught up in the moment and enjoyed myself a little. “I didn’t plan anything, Jess. It just happened.”
“If you didn’t plan your little rendezvous, then how did Nate get your number?” she demands. “That’s who you were on the phone to when you left the room, wasn’t it? I didn’t hand it over, nor did Ivy, so the only person it could have come from was you.”
She’s determined to be cross. Maybe that’s due to lack of sleep, or a function of pressure, but I don’t appreciate being her verbal punching bag.
“Was it by chance, because you wrote it on his hot sexy body with your pulling pen? Where’d you mark him, eh? Right along the length of his cock perhaps, so he couldn’t misinterpret that you were up for it?”
“Stop being such a bitch. What does it matter how he got my number, or that I shagged him. Yeah, I did, OK, and it was fab.”
“It matters because we agreed they were off limits,” she growls.
She’s twenty-two, and she’s growling at me like she’s a goddamned tiger, how infantile is that? And actually, we didn’t agree anything of the sort. There wasn’t even a consultation process, Jess just laid down the law on the issue, and then only after she’d noted my interest. Basically, she just hates the idea of my having a sex life when she hasn’t had a shag in months, not since she split with Dane, in fact. And that’s not for want of offers. The fact, I’m realising, is that she wants Dane back, she’s just not prepared to admit it to herself.
Of course, none of this would be an issue if I opened my mouth and spilled what I know about Teddy Knox. Then it’d be all pats on the back for being a super spy, and her telling me I’m a very clever girl, as if I’m still in primary school and I’ve got a gold star for my reading.
Too bad, I’ve no intention of saying a word about Paradise Kiss’s bass-player. Right now, I hope he makes a miraculous recovery, and that Paradise Kiss turn up in an hour or so and wipe the floor with us. At least they want this deal for the right reasons. Jessie only wants it for spiteful ones.
BANGED: Rock Stars, Bad Boys & Dirty Deeds Page 48
