by S. L. Scott
Tulsa
S.L. Scott
S.L. Scott
Copyright © 2018 by S.L. SCOTT
The right of S.L. Scott to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-940071-69-5
Cover Design: RBA Designs
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Always Give ‘em Your Good Side
Contents
Also by S.L. SCOTT
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Spark Prologue
The Resistance Prologue
The Resistance Chapter 1
On a Personal Note
About the Author
Also by S.L. Scott
Also by S.L. SCOTT
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The Crow Brothers
Spark
Tulsa
Rivers
Hard to Resist Series
The Resistance
The Reckoning
The Redemption
The Revolution
The Rebellion
The Kingwood Duet
SAVAGE
SAVIOR
SACRED
SOLACE
Talk to Me Duet
Sweet Talk
Dirty Talk
Welcome to Paradise Series
Good Vibrations
Good Intentions
Good Sensations
Happy Endings
Welcome to Paradise Series
From the Inside Out Series
Scorned
Jealousy
Dylan
Austin
From the Inside Out Compilation
Stand Alone Books
Everest
Missing Grace
Until I Met You
Drunk on Love
Naturally, Charlie
A Prior Engagement
Lost in Translation
Sleeping with Mr. Sexy
Morning Glory
Prologue
Tulsa Crow
There’s just something about a short, denim skirt riding high on tan legs tucked into a tall pair of cowboy boots. Add a tight, white tee or even a cut-off shirt to show a little—or a lot—of that fine figure and you’ll not just catch my attention, you might even land a date.
Of course, a great face is a bonus, but I see beauty in all types of women. The only thing I’m picky about is a woman who likes to have a good time and feels confident in what the good Lord gave her.
Wallflowers don’t look twice at me, and good girls don’t take me home to meet their daddy. Nope. I’m the guy bad girls cheat on their boyfriends with and mothers slip their numbers to when their daughters aren’t looking.
My reputation precedes me. It’s one I’ve earned notch by notch, gig after gig. At twenty-three, life is more than good. Life is great.
Pulling my shirt over my head, I punch my arms through the sleeves and then buckle my belt. I’m quiet as I settle my snapback cap on my head and reach down to tuck my socks into my boots. I grab them by the top of the leather to tiptoe out. I hate being stranded, but some nights, I get talked into things I just can’t turn down.
Last night, it was Tricia. She sits up on the bed and rests back on her elbows. “Are you sneaking out, Tulsa Crow?”
Annnnnnd, her best friend, Sassie, with an I-E, who mimics Tricia. “Don’t go. It’s Sunday. Let’s sleep in and then maybe we can have a little more fun.”
Checking my back pocket, I find my phone and wallet. Since I got a ride over here, I don’t have my keys. “Sorry, ladies. I have a flight at five. I need to get home to pack.”
Tricia smiles when the sheet slips down. “But it’s only nine.”
Damn, she has great tits.
Sassie tilts her head to the side. “C’mon, Tulsa. Come back to bed. You’re going to be gone for months. Give us something to tide us over until you return.”
Fuck. Yes. Words every man wants to hear.
Tricia adds, “Pleeeease, with me on top this time?”
Unbuckling my belt, I drop my drawers and toss my hat. “Fuck it. Make room in the middle for me, ladies.” I yank my shirt off over my head and dive back in.
Two hours later, I cut across the lawn toward my brother Rivers’s 4Runner. Resting an arm through the open window, he shakes his head.
“Call us when you’re back in town, Tulsa.” When I turn around, the ladies are in the doorway of their apartment, giving me a little wave while Tricia wears the hat I left behind as a souvenir.
“You know I will.” I send each a wink with a little click of my tongue.
Rivers says, “Get in, fucker.”
I nod with a fuckin’ smug smile on my face as I cross in front of the SUV. “You know it.”
After climbing in, I slam the door shut. Rivers takes off before I even have my seat belt on and says, “You know your dick’s going to get you in trouble one day.”
“If by trouble you mean sweet little pussy, then you’re right. It got me in trouble about four or five times last night with the BFFs.”
He laughs, but this is a topic we don’t normally discuss. “You’re a real catch, I tell ya.”
His sarcasm may drip, but he doesn’t get it. “I can’t help that the ladies love me so much.”
“Look, I’m not going to lecture you on your sex life. I’ll leave that to Jet.” He chuckles, knowing our brother loves to give me shit. As the oldest Crow, I guess that’s his job. Rivers is the middle brother, so I’m not sure he feels quite like the dad in the bunch, but he still feels it’s his place to read me my rights when it comes to my life. He asks, “Are you packed?”
“Sure.” Not at all, but it won’t take me long. The minor details aren’t worth ment
ioning, or we’ll just end up bickering.
“We leave for the airport in less than two hours. Are you ready for LA?”
Our first stadium tour kicks off in two days in California. “I may not have clean clothes, but I’ll be ready to play.”
Rivers has a serious side, but he’s always been there for me not just as a brother but also a friend. It’s good to have your brothers as your best friends. Without them looking out for me, I wouldn’t be able to fuck around like I do. He side-eyes me. “How many girls are you going to love and leave while we’re on the road?”
“How many stops are on the tour?”
Our hands meet in the middle in a fist bump.
I’m not sure if he’s impressed or disappointed when he refers to last night’s escapades by asking, “Two girls, huh?”
“They’ve always been close.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“How well do you know?” I’m not the jealous type, but I don’t hook up with girls my brothers have been with already.
“Not well. I turned them down last year.”
“And Jet?”
He chuckles. “Not his style.” The laughter stops, and he pulls into the carport of the apartment we share. It’s not nice, but it’s what we could afford while playing local gigs before we signed the record deal, and the area is safe. Our lives have changed a lot in the past year. Now that we have money growing in the bank, it’ll be time to move on when our lease runs out in three months. “I don’t really see them as your style either, Tuls.”
“They’re just fun. Don’t worry. They’re already in the past.”
“Be careful. The past has a way of catching up with your future.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I get out of the vehicle and shut the door. Walking up to our door, I add, “Don’t worry about me, Riv. I’m doing just fine.”
“Whatever you say, but I have a little tip for you. Don’t screw up something good by screwing something bad.” A nod and a chuckle are all I give him before heading inside, straight to my room to shower and then pack.
He’s just being his usual worried self, but his words echo through my mind—the past has a way of catching up with your future. I know that well, given how Jet’s life had turned out. In his case, he couldn’t be happier. In my case, I’m doing fine with no worries. I’m livin’ and lovin’ life.
I’m a rock star with a record burning up the charts. I’m about to go on a sold-out tour opening for The Resistance, one of the most famous bands in the world.
Life can’t get better.
Nope, it can’t.
So, if I’m not worried about my future or my past, then why do my brother’s words about who I’m screwing bother me so much?
1
Tulsa Crow
Lowering my Ray-Bans down over my eyes, I tilt my head up to the blue skies. Bogged down with my carry-on in one hand, I spread my other arm out wide. “We have arrived, LA.”
“Stop making a fucking scene, Tulsa,” Jet admonishes, brushing past me to get to the black SUV.
Flashes become distracting, but when the click of cameras rattles around me, I give the paparazzi what they came for—my good side, showing off the dimple in my chin the ladies can’t get enough of.
Just as I throw them a quick salute, Rivers grabs me by the front of the shirt. “C’mon, fucker. Get in the vehicle.”
If my hands were free, I’d pop my collar, but they aren’t, so I climb in through the open door and slide across the leather seat. Just as Rivers shuts the door, I hand Jet my bag, and he tosses it to the back behind Dave. “Hey! I have breakable shit in there,” I say, irritated. “Be careful.”
“Your dildo will be fine.”
“Fuck off.” I try to sound pissed, but I start laughing. “That was funny.”
My brothers and our newest band member, Dave Carson, start laughing along with me, the tension they felt brought on by the paparazzi at LAX dissipating. I don’t let things get to me as easily. Life’s too short for that shit.
Jet, the oldest Crow, has had a lot to handle over the past eight years. He stepped up when our dad stepped out before I was four. When I was a teenager, our mom died, but there was no way Jet would allow us to be separated. At only nineteen, he fought to ensure we stayed together. He quit college and got a job doing landscaping in the afternoons so we could play gigs at night. I had no idea what that sacrifice truly meant until I went to college and had the easy life he never did.
He raised us when no one else gave a damn what happened to us after our mom passed away. Jet sacrificed his own goals to help Rivers and me reach ours. So, we earned our college degrees while he worked. Even though Jet’s a great role model, he’s also a hard ass. His high expectations of us, and for us, were what got us to this point. So it doesn’t matter what we go through—we’re brothers by blood and by choice. I’m a lucky bastard.
A dry sense of humor runs in the family. Sarcasm could be our middle names if my mom hadn’t already been so wickedly funny when it came to that. Jet Mercury, Rivers East, and mine, a little too fitting for me since it seems most out of left field—Tulsa Madigan. It was never a secret that I was a surprise, so who knows where she came up with that name.
I think Louisa Rain Crow knew she was pushing her luck when she got pregnant with me. We can’t all be boy scouts.
Landing in LA today brings us one step closer to opening our first stadium tour tomorrow.
Even though we have an album still sitting at the top of the music charts months after Outlaw Records released it, this trip is what changes everything.
Johnny Outlaw, the famous lead singer, guitarist, and band spokesman for The Resistance, signed us to a two-album deal last year. Part of the deal was that we open for his band on their US tour. Not like we’d say no.
Since we signed, we’ve gotten to know Tommy, their manager and now ours, and Dex, one of the founding members and drummer of The Resistance, well.
Kaz and Derrick round out their band, and like I used to be, they’re guitarists. Dex moved me to drums after hearing I played, and I’ve been there ever since.
Although fame is new to us, money is not something we’ve ever been able to spend freely.
We have groupies at our beck and call . . . okay, that’s not new. We’ve laid plenty of pretties. As the motherfuckin’ Crow Brothers, we’ve owned the Austin music scene for years. But now it’s time to take over the world.
Rivers lays his head back with his shades over his eyes. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep. As his roommate, I’m well aware he’s not been sleeping much. I often hear the TV on in the middle of the night, then I’ll find him passed out in the recliner in the living room in the morning. After trying to get him to talk about it a couple of times, to no avail, I let him have his privacy. He’s always been quieter, but whatever he’s been going through this past year is wearing on him, and this tour hasn’t even begun.
I glance back at Jet, who sees Rivers. He shrugs and turns his attention out the tinted windows. His phone rests on his thigh; he keeps it handy at all times. The unshakeable Jet Crow has become a family man; with his pregnant wife and kid back in Austin, he’s got more on his mind than the set list.
He’ll relax once school ends. Then his son, Alfie, and wife, Hannah, can visit us on tour.
I never think too much about it, but a little knot tightens in my gut when I think about all of us settling down with families of our own. It’s always been easy to see Jet in that role since it’s the one he’s taken on most of my whole life, but Rivers . . . I thought he and his girl would make it—they didn’t.
I tried the girlfriend route back in high school, and it didn’t work for me either. Fuck that noise. I’m twenty-three and single. I’m a rock star and heading out on tour. Nothing is going to tie me down before my time. I can’t wait to fuck my way through the states. Other than playing music, sex is my favorite sport. And like most sports, it took a lot of practice to be this perfect.
Jet, Rivers, and Dave
walk into the bar behind me. I stop and look around as the patrons check us out as well. Tommy stands from a table in the back. That’s when I see he’s with two other guys I don’t recognize.
Dave takes off first, and we follow. After we greet Tommy, he introduces us to the other guys. “Laird and Shane Faris of Faris Wheel. These guys are opening for you.”
Outlaw Records signed Faris Wheel to a deal around the same time as us. They put out an EP like we did, but their first full album is still in the works from what I’ve heard from Jet.
While we shake hands, Jet takes the lead. “Man, good to meet you guys. I dig your music and style.”
Laird replies, “Dude, that’s a huge honor. I’ve been listening to your record on repeat since it released. It’s incredible.”
“Thanks.” Peering behind him, Rivers asks, “Where’s your lead singer?”
“Sleeping,” Shane says, chuckling.
Rivers laughs. “I hear ya. We got in yesterday, did a few interviews, and then crashed.”
“That’s what all of us should probably be doing tonight.” Sarcastically, Tommy adds, “On that note, I’m buying the first round.”
One becomes two.
Rivers is smiling, relaxed, and having a good time. Jet’s been talking to Tommy mostly. I ask Shane, “If you play drums, and he’s on lead, then who’s playing bass?”
