In no time, I emerge from the bathroom a new person. Expensive clothes, I decide, just feel better against my skin. I feel pampered, special. I’m sure Silas knows this. It’s probably all part of his grand plan to separate me from my expensive clothes before the night is over.
Silas is wearing a very expensive pair of designer jeans and a white tee. His long hair cascades over his shoulders. Just the sight of him makes my heart skip a beat. How can I dislike the man and have my body betray me at every turn? I study him as I walk over, deliberately sitting as far away from him as I can—a move that is not lost on him.
He picks up the remote and turns off the TV. The silence is deafening, and I find myself wishing he’d turn it back on. With nothing else competing for my attention, I find myself feasting my eyes on Silas. He looks so damn sexy in his tight jeans and tee shirt. Expensive clothes look good on him. I’m sure I must look like an impostor in couture.
“So your friend,” Silas says out of nowhere, “Brand, is it?”
“Boyfriend. My boyfriend Brand.”
“Sure, boyfriend. So he’s not getting better any time soon, then?”
“Not that we can tell.”
“Didn’t you two just meet in line at one of our shows a couple weeks ago? Kinda fast.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah. When you meet the right person you feel it.”
I’m not sure why I said that, because I certainly don’t believe it. Brand and I have a connection, sure, but so do Silas and I. In fact, Silas stirs me in ways that no guy ever has. He makes my body yearn for his touch. My heart aches for him, but I’m not with Silas. I’m with Brand—who’s hot in his own right. I’m sure when our relationship gets to the physical point it’ll be amazing. But I’m not sure why I have to convince myself of that.
“So is he a good lover?” Silas asks.
“No!”
“No?”
“Not...no, I mean we haven’t got to that yet,” I stammer. Why am I telling him this?
“I see…” he says.
“Not that it’s any of your damn business,” I say, “And why are you asking me these questions anyway?”
“Just making conversation, that’s all.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Silas. Do you always go asking strange girls about their sex lives? That’s not making conversation, that’s prying.”
“Sorry. Forgot to ask for your blessing to have a conversation.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Sorry. Really.”
He’s gradually moving closer to me, and I can feel my body beginning to respond. It’s not something I can control. The fact that he’s a rock star with a huge ego and the last person who can provide a woman with stability does nothing to dampen my body’s response to him. He looks amazing and wholly desirable. What woman would not want to be in his arms? Probably just about all of them except me. Dammit, I really am terrible liar, especially to myself.
His voice breaks the silence like a clap of thunder, though he speaks softly. “You’re quiet, June. Are you okay?”
His eyes are so unbelievably tender. He’s genuinely concerned about me. He must sense the battle raging in my mind right now. My body is craving his touch, but my good sense is equally insistent upon me staying far, far away. The question is, which one is going to win out? It’s like some great brawl is about to go down, and one way or another our fate will be decided.
A light brush of contact on the back of my hand makes me jump. My arm is like a lightning rod that just got zapped by a very powerful jolt. The supercharged electricity moves from my hand straight to my heart. My heart contracts with the force of that bolt, and it drives the breath from my lungs. He’s talking, but his words just don’t register. My body’s singing the praises of his touch so loudly that I can’t hear what he is saying to me. Truth be told, I really don’t care.
Silas is sitting sideways on the couch, and our knees are touching now. Heat sweeps over the rest of my body in warm, gentle waves. Silas leans forward, close enough that I can feel his breath on my face. He’s going to kiss me. I know this as sure as I know my own name and if I want to even stand a chance against his charms and my body’s own betrayal of my mind, I’ll have to get up now and go home. But I know I won’t. I have already lost the war and become the spoils of battle. And for some reason, I don’t mind a bit.
“If you don’t want this—” he says.
To hell with it. I take his face in my two hands and pull him in for a kiss. His lips are warm and insistent. He presses his mouth to mine, forcing my lips to part. The raw hunger he ignites in my body renders me completely helpless. It does not even dawn on me to resist when his hands take the hem of my tee shirt and hoist it over my head. The moment the fabric is lifted, he lowers his face to my chest. His deft fingers unclasp my bra as if it were nothing.
I normally like the lights off during sex, but not this time. I want to watch as his lips close around my nipple, kiss the soft flesh of my breasts. His hands are reserved at first, but as our passion builds, they become furious with lust and the desire.
My hands slip under his shirt, caressing his muscular chest. His mouth on my nipples is almost too much to bear. Just when I don’t think I can stand it anymore, he stands up and unbuckles his belt, slipping his jeans down over his hips. I gasp as he straightens up, my eyes falling to the enormous bulge inside his briefs. I cannot control my wandering hands as they reach for his manhood. He lets out an audible sigh, and his member stiffens beneath my fingers.
He lowers himself onto me, relieving me of my own jeans in one swift motion. He catches his breath as he sees that I neglected to include panties in tonight’s costume change. He cups my sex, pressing and rubbing, fervent with desire. Our mouths come together again at the very moment his thumb finds my clit...and that’s when I lose it.
By the time I surface from the rapturous blur of our lovemaking, I am totally spent. I begin to drift off, and quick flashes of our entangled bodies parade through my mind. Never in my life have I experienced such a carnal marathon of discovery. As sleep takes me, I feel his heart beating against mine. Our breath falls into harmony as we finally drift off to sleep.
Chapter Twelve
The Awakening
When I first wake up, it takes me a minute to realize where I am. But one look at the surrounding opulence and the memories come flooding back.
“Oh no,” I murmur, “What have I done now?”
A quick search of the room yields my clothes and under things, scattered about—evidence that last night was not a figment of my imagination. The clock on the wall tells me that it’s nearly noon.
“Holy crap!” I exclaim. I’m supposed to meet Gabby in an hour, and I’m not even sure where I am. Where the hell is Silas?
A scrap of paper resting on the bedside table catches my eye. It’s a short note.
My dearest Junie,
Had to head out early for a sound check and some practice before tonight’s show. I hope that last night was the start of something. I left a pair of backstage passes for you and your friend. They’re next to the coffee maker. I really would love to see you tonight after the show.
Missing you,
Silas
I throw on my clothes and grab a cup of liquid gold before heading downstairs to retrieve my car. The valet brings my car around and I slip in, punching in Gabby’s number to let her know I’m running way late. But the screen of my phone refuses to light up. There’s not even enough battery left to place a call.
“Crap!”
Nearly an hour later I arrive at the diner and spot Gabby’s car across the way. At least she waited for me. I hurry inside and find her sitting by the window, nursing a cup of coffee.
“Hi stranger,” I say.
“You made it!” Gabby replies, “Why haven’t you been answering my calls? I tried calling you all night, and then this morning as well.”
“Yeah, about that...”
“I was about to star
t calling hospitals and morgues.”
“What stopped you?”
She holds up her cup of coffee. “This.”
“That? It’s only coffee.”
“Which I am completely addicted to. It affects me differently than it does other people.”
“Really? How do you know this?”
“You ever have a cup of coffee make you forget your sense of duty to your friend and fail to check to see if she’s alright?”
“No...”
“Well there you have it. Coffee made me forget. In fact, I can’t remember the last four hours.”
“You’re a strange one. What’re you reading?”
She holds up the magazine. It’s the latest issue of Rolling Stone. She points to a picture of the band Shadowspawn, one of the hottest new metal bands touring this year.
“You know these guys?” she asks.
“Yeah, they’re great. When their CD came out, their first single, “Lust for Blood,” was like my favorite song for months. I played the shit out of it till I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
“Yeah, I don’t get it. Why do you always do that when you like a song or a CD? How come you don’t space it out and play other stuff too so the feeling lasts?”
“I don’t know. Must be some sort of OCD thing.”
“Hmm...Well, since you really liked them, you’re not gonna love this.”
“What?”
“The guitarists, all three of them, have been doing a little air guitar playing it would seem. They were discovered during their show in Dallas. They’ve been playing without their amps turned on. Their tech guys were dubbing in prerecorded music from studio sessions with professional studio musicians.”
“Oh shit!”
“Yeah, they really stepped in it. At first the other guys in the band denied all knowledge of it, but it became pretty obvious. Most people think that their front man Trent Jones has been lip synching, but I don’t know if that has ever been proven.”
“Wow...”
“But it really doesn’t matter. They’re done for. The whole album was performed by studio musicians and it’s been taken off the shelves and you can’t buy their discs online anymore either. Shadowspawn is history!”
“Wow, what a fall from grace. And they still had half their tour to finish right? Man, there’s gonna be some pissed off fans! In fact—”
A sudden realization hits me in the gut like a steel-toed boot. How could I have forgotten the story Hammer told me about Silas—the show with the out of tune guitar? Holy crap, Silas really is faking it. I didn’t think it was possible, yet there in Rolling Stone is the proof.
“June, what’s wrong?” Gabby asks, “You look like your puppy just died.”
“I wish. I mean not really. I mean...” I look at the calendar on my phone. I can’t remember when the deadline is for the contest, but I’m pretty sure it’s coming soon.
That means I better bust my ass and get this done for Brand. How I’m going to do it, I have no idea. I can write, but not like him. I checked out some of his stuff on the web and he’s quite the engaging writer. Brand is in no shape to finish the article on his own, so it’s up to me. It’s the least I can do for my boyfriend. My boyfriend who I just cheated on last night.
“Fuck!” I mutter, “Dammit, why did I do that?”
“Okay June, you’re starting to freak me out here,” Gabby says, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something. What the hell is wrong?”
“Oh man...I have royally screwed up, Gabbs!”
“Uh...does this have anything to do with where you were last night?”
“Yeah...and there’s more to it than that. Shit, this is not good Gabrielle, not good at all.”
“Well are you gonna tell me, or just sit there and swear about it? And what’s up with the swearing, anyway? You almost never swear.”
“Yeah, well. This is a special fucking occasion.”
“So you slept with him?”
“Him...Who?”
“You know who I’m talking about June. You slept with Silas Mann, didn’t you?”
My heart hammers against my ribcage. “You cannot breathe a word of this to Brand.”
“If he recovers, yeah I won’t. It’s no big deal. I...well I haven’t been totally true to Kevin, if the truth be known.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story. All I’m saying, it’s not that big a deal. I mean, come on. You hardly know Brand. And he’s not likely to make much of a recovery from what I hear. So, you probably are gonna dodge that bullet.”
“I can’t believe you just said that. I dodged a bullet because my boyfriend is lying in the hospital dying, and that’s a good thing to you?” Suddenly I’m horrified about myself and Gabby. “Did you really cheat on Kevin?”
“Yeah. Twice.”
“Twice? What the hell, Gabbs?”
“Hey, don’t judge me missy. Remember that Berkeley band we saw play in the Greek earlier this year? And their super hot drummer Hans?”
“Of course. He’s all you talked about for months. So you two really hooked up?”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d you stop seeing him? You have stopped seeing him, right?”
“Yeah, it’s kinda hard when they’re behind bars.”
“What?”
“He was a bit of a bad boy.”
“Ya think?” I had no idea Gabby was the cheating type.
“He got busted stealing a car,” she goes on.
“Why would he steal a car? He’s got all kinds of money, right?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t for the money. It was for the adrenaline rush.”
“Yeah?”
“Off the charts Junie, off the freaking charts!”
“Geez, you sound like you did it. Wait...you didn’t help him? Gabby, tell me you didn’t help this guy steal a car!”
“I didn’t,” she says, unconvincingly.
“Liar.”
“Okay look, I didn’t steal it. It was his idea. We were bar hopping in the city and came across this totally tricked out Camero and he just had to take it for a spin. So while I watched, he broke in and hot-wired the car. I wasn’t going to go with him, but he was so damn insistent that I couldn’t resist.”
“Holy shit! You’re a felon, Gabbs. When was this crime spree of yours anyway?”
“It was last April. All we did was drive around for a bit. Well...maybe we stopped for a little while.”
“What do you mean stopped for a while? Did you steal the next one or something?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. We...we did it in the back seat.”
“You two screwed in the back seat of a stolen car?” I actually can’t believe what I’m hearing. My best friend, an upstanding member of the medical community, a registered nurse, was involved in stealing a car. Just when you think you know someone.
“I swear that’s last time I’ll ever get involved in something like that.”
“I should hope. So what happened? How’d he get busted and you walked?”
“Well, the cops spotted us while we were...doing it. I made this huge scene about him being a rock star and how I thought it was his car since he had to be rich. He went along with my song and dance so they just brought me in for questioning and let me go in the morning. He never ratted on me and he was only in for a short time. Apparently his celebrity status got him released in time to go on tour.”
“Holy crap. I cannot believe I’m hearing this. Of course you don’t think what I did with Silas is any big deal. How could you, with your skewed perspective.”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you. So anyway, how was it?”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Oh come on June! You have to tell a little.”
“Oh no I don’t. And besides, I got a bigger problem on my hands now.”
“What problem?”
“You remember that contest Brand was going to try to win?”
“Oh yeah, the Get the Dirt cont
est. You’re still working on that?”
“Yeah...turns out Shadowspawn may not be the only fakers out there. Remember the show where Silas’s amp kept cutting in and out? And they replaced him with some other dude?”
“Oh yeah...forgot about that. So Hammer’s clean and Silas is...is cheating? He doesn’t really play guitar?”
“No, I don’t think so, but I don’t have any proof. I need to talk to the sound engineers and his guitar guy to find out what’s really going on.”
“And I’m sure they’ll be happy to talk to you. They might just have you killed so you can’t blab about their secret. I mean, look what’s happening to Shadowspawn. They’re finished! You better be careful. I’m thinking they’ll do anything to protect their band.”
“Yeah but this is different. Shadowspawn was a pretty new band and Fringe has been around for, like, ten years. The band will survive.”
“I don’t know…At the very least you’re gonna ruin the career of one man and you’re not even sure he’s faking it. And you’re sleeping with him too!”
“I know...it sounds crazy, but I have to do it for Brand.”
“June, he’ll likely never know what you did for him. But Silas will know what you did to him, and he’s gonna be pissed. I’m gonna be pissed! But I still got your back, whatever you decide to do.”
“Thank you. That’s what I really needed to hear right now.”
“But promise me one thing Junie.”
“Sure.”
“Get some proof before you submit your article to the magazine.”
“Of course. I can’t just write a bunch of stuff. It has to be verifiable. That’s part of the contest rules. Otherwise the most creative writer would win, not the gal who has the real dirt.”
“I guess you’re right. Well that makes me feel better.”
“Me too...I think. The truth is, I wasn’t even thinking about getting proof. I really was just going to write the article and submit it. I haven’t been thinking at all.”
Broken Strings (A Rock Star Novel) Page 11
