A steaming cup of Sleepytime appears before me. "You'll chew those things to nubs, honeybear. How's it going?"
I yank my thumbnail from between my teeth and sigh.
"Not so good, Dad. Marvin really covered all the bases. He must have sent out a mass email to every decent venue in the country. I'm at a dead-end."
"So, what, the band's just going to break up?" he asks, perching himself on the corner of the antique desk he and Papi bought the year I turned two. I have vague memories of pulling out the drawers and crawling up them like stairs to sit in the very same spot while Dad worked.
"Looks that way," I mutter miserably.
"Humph. Seems like the fans might have something to say about that. Can you imagine how that gang of goths will react when they hear?"
"I dunno. Bands break up all the time and fans don't go nuts."
"Don't tell that to Dimebag Darrell's family."
"Who?"
He gives me a look of sympathy that another music culture reference has gone over my head.
"So then what?"
"So then we all go our separate ways." I pretend that it makes no nevermind to me, that I'm not crushed at the looming inevitability.
"And you and Draymond are..."
"Are nothing." My voice seizes up and tears spring to my eyes. All this back and forth really is exhausting. I don't blame Drax for giving me an ultimatum.
"Really? Because I could swear that boy fell in love the moment he saw you. In fact, he said something strange the other night about marriage..."
That's it. I can't handle anymore discussion about Drax or Roadkill or my miserable, disappointing life. Great, heaving sobs roll over and out of me. Dad gathers me into his arms, the safest place I know, and I let all the stress and fear and heartache loose and sob into my father's shoulder, clutching at him like a life-preserver. It seems as if I cry for hours before I calm down enough to release him.
"I'm sorry," I choke out, ineffectively wiping at the dampness on his faded Prince concert shirt.
"Oh honeybear, that's what I'm here for, you know that."
Papi's shaved head pops into the tiny office. "You got a call, Lola-mami. Wait, what happen? Why you cry?"
I sniffle back tears and try to regain my composure while Dad explains. Papi is despondent that he missed a good bawling session.
"Ay, why you no wait for me?!" he wails. "We no cry together since dat last nasty pendejo broke up with you!"
One of the nice things about Papi is that his storms pass quickly and with little damage. "We cry later, kay?" he says, dropping a kiss on my forehead.
I smile up at him, the heart and soul of our little family. "Okay, Papi. I love you."
"Ay!" He tears up and runs out of the office before his tastefully applied eyeliner can smudge.
"Okay, sweetie, I'll leave you to it," Dad says. "Don't forget that call."
Right. The handset of Dad's ancient, beige desk phone weighs a ton compared to modern phones. It has those giant clear buttons that blink to show which line is holding. I take a deep breath and mash down the first button, praying that it's one of the dozens of venues that haven't yet said no.
"Lauren Raines speaking."
"Lauren! It's Harry. Harry Stephens. How ya' been?"
I'm stunned into muteness. The last time I saw my old boss, he looked like he was about to pop a gasket. What the hell could he possibly want?
"Um, good?"
"Great! Say, I hear you're doing a bang-up job managing Roadkill. That's good to hear."
"Um, thanks?"
Who would he have heard that from? The only person I can think of is my ex-coworker Michelle, but she wouldn't have blabbed to Harry.
"Yeah, so...I wanted to call to apologize for being so hard on you."
Screw him if he thinks I'm going to let him off the hook that easy. So what if I deserved to be fired? He didn't have to humiliate me like that.
"You mean the night you screamed at me in front of about a hundred people and then fired me?"
Harry laughs uncomfortably. He's used to being the cock of the walk, having everyone run around him like minions. Well, I don't work for him anymore, so I don't have to pussyfoot around.
"Uh, yeah, well...I guess emotions were high that night, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"Okay."
I refuse to accept his lame, half-assed apology, and the silence drags out between us. Can you say 'awkward'?
"Listen. I maybe acted a little too...hastily that night. This place is crazy without you, Lauren. I want you to come back."
My skin crawls at the arrogance in his offer, like I should be so lucky to work for him again. Little does he know that losing that job was the best thing that's ever happened to me. No, I'm not making much -- okay, any -- money at the moment, but it opened my eyes to the possibility of still having a career without having to demean myself.
"You mean you can't handle the workload alone and no one else will work with you, isn't that right?"
His reply is stony silence.
"Now you listen, Harry. I wouldn't work for you again if you paid me four times what you did before. You have no respect for your employees, anyone really. You're the most spiteful, hateful, miserable man I've had the displeasure of knowing. Have a nice life."
The handset is halfway to the cradle when he shouts something I don't quite make out. "What did you say?"
"I said, I'll book your boys. Against my better judgment, mind you, considering what happened last time, but I hear you might be having trouble getting gigs."
Damn, gossip travels fast. "What did you hear?" I demand. My blood is boiling.
"Oh, just that a certain someone has it in for your boy Drax. And that if you don't set up something soon, Roadkill may become roadkill themselves."
I'm speechless. Finally, I get the nerve to tell Harry what I think about him and he lays this on me.
"Marvin will have a shit fit," he continues merrily, "and I'm sure I'll pay for it somehow, but if you agree to come back to work for me -- at double your previous salary, by the way, not quadruple -- I'll book the band as a headliner. That should keep 'em limping along till things settle down."
'Stunned' doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling. Run over with a Mack truck is more like it. My world compresses around me until the only thing I can see is the bright light glowing steadily behind the phone's acrylic button.
"Think about it," Harry says, his voice hollow, like it's coming through a tin can with a string attached. "But I need an answer by tomorrow morning."
The phone buzzes in my ear for a full minute before I carefully replace the handset.
"Shit."
I'm so nervous I could puke. Hand to heart, my stomach is flopping around in my belly like a dying fish. Good thing I didn't have any appetite before coming down to the marina to present my plan to the boys or there'd be a mess all over the boat's pretty teak and holly floor.
Drax was uncharacteristically early but he hasn't said a word since I arrived a few minutes ago. He hasn't even looked at me. My stomach flips even harder. If he's this pissed off, he may want Roadkill to die, no pun intended. I hope the fact he showed up at all is a good sign.
Jake was the last to arrive and now that they're all settled, I'm left standing across from them like a salesperson giving a pitch. Which I guess I am, come to think of it. If they don't go for my plan, Roadkill will break up and Drax will move back east, and I really don't want that to happen.
"Okay, Lauren," Savory says, giving me an encouraging smile. "Lay it on us."
I nod and clear my throat. If I don't make words come out of my mouth soon, something more disgusting will, so I take a deep breath and dive in.
"Guys, Marvin's really kicked Roadkill's ass. It's not fair and it's not right, especially considering that the reason Drax was late for that show was because he was kidnapped by some crazy chick, but he's not backing down. I've put in a dozen calls to him but..."
"Fuck Marvin
," Drax growls. Yeah, he's pissed.
"Right. Well, I've been busting my hump all week trying to line up a decent gig but it's no good. He's got too much power in the biz and every big venue -- every one that called me back, that is -- said how sorry they were, blah blah blah."
"Fuck them, too," Frank chimed in.
"I disagree," I say. "Yes, fuck Marvin. But the venues...we need them. Eventually. What we have to do is prove to them that Roadkill can bring in big ticket sales. If they see the numbers, Marvin's little blackball game won't mean a thing. As powerful as he is, the bottom line is more important."
"Sure, but no one will book us, you just said so yourself."
This is where it gets sticky. I try to swallow but my mouth is a desert.
"Not no one, exactly. I got a call from my old boss this morning. He's willing to take another chance on the band. It could be an opportunity for you to prove you're reliable and can still draw the crowds, which might help you book more gigs afterward."
Drax's eyes burn with fury. "I wouldn't work with that asshole if he was the last--"
"He is," I say, cutting him off mid-rant. "The fact is, he is the last concert promoter who is willing to even consider booking you."
He glares off into a far corner.
"That's fucking great, Lauren," Jake says, grinning at everyone. "What's the big deal? He was kind of a jerk but whatever. I say we do it."
Savory doesn't look convinced. He gives me a knowing look, and asks, "What's he want? No way is that dude just going to book us out of the goodness of his heart. He wants something. What is it?"
Drax's gaze returns to me, and I can practically feel it on my skin, warming me. Not in the way I want, exactly, but beggars can't be choosers.
"Me."
I don't dare look at Drax but out of the corner of my eye, I can see him tense.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he spits.
Seriously? He's acting jealous? Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the idea of him being jealous -- and that appalls me just a little -- but he can't act like I'm his property or something.
"In exchange for booking you, he wants me to go back to work for him," I spit back.
Silence settles over the group. Jake breaks it as only Jake could. "Does that mean you won't be our manager anymore?"
Duh, I want to say, but only because I'm already stressed out and irritable. I nod instead.
"Nuh uh, that's bullshit," Frank says. "You can't go back to work for that douchenozzle. Besides, we're a team."
My heart swells at his words, as crass as they are. There's nothing quite like feeling appreciated.
"That's sweet, Frank, but we won't be a team if you guys split up."
"Jesus," Savory snorts. "It's like Sophie's-fucking-Choice! Take the gig and lose you. Don't take the gig and break up."
Drax has been sitting like a stone statue, just staring at me. I have no idea what he's thinking but my heart does flip flops and I very nearly lose myself in his eyes again. Dang, that's so easy to do! But I have more to say, now that the hook is set.
"Actually, there is another option."
The mumbling and grumbling stop and all eyes turn to me, eager to hear what will get them out of this mess.
"I've made a few inquiries, scratched together a few ideas, and I think I have an interesting idea."
I pull out a very rough sketch Papi drew and hand it to Drax. "It's called the 'Route 666 Tour'. We drive the entire length of Route 66, or what's left of it, from Santa Monica to Chicago. We stop every couple nights and perform at any little podunk venue that'll take us. I've called a handful of hip spots and they all gave me a tentative yes."
"And what if they say no?" Savory asks.
"Then we set up in a park or something. We can easily get permits in most small towns -- Marvin doesn't have that much pull -- and even if we can't, holding illegal concerts just adds to Roadkill's bad boy mystique."
"I don't get it," Jake says, scratching his head. Literally. Scratching his head. "How's this supposed to help?"
"It's brilliant," Drax mutters, the tiniest hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Marvin's trying to ice us out. The longer we go without a gig, the faster we'll be forgotten. But if we do a grassroots tour, focusing on the fans and not the money or the prestige big venues offer, they'll come in droves."
He gets it! He gets me!
"Exactly! We waive our fee so the venues keep the ticket prices low, as a thank you to your loyal fans. They spread the word and, hopefully, the tour will go viral, for lack of a better term. Merch sales will more than make up for lost ticket revenue, and the goodwill it'll generate should get us back in the graces of the bigger venues."
The discussion goes on for quite a while, working out details, potential problems, and possible opportunities. Relief washes over me that they're as excited as I am. I half-expected them to take Harry's offer because it was a sure thing. I would have been crushed but I also would have understood.
"I just have one more question," Drax says, catching my gaze. "Does that mean you've decided you want to stay with us?"
I know what he's really asking. He wants to know if I've made a decision about us, not Roadkill. Up until this moment, I was still trying to figure it all out, but watching his face light up over a tour where he'd make next to nothing but would thrill his fans clenched it for me. Draymond Maxwell may be an arrogant, bossy show-off, but there's nothing more in the world I want than for him to be my arrogant, bossy show-off.
"With all my heart."
Rock Your Baby
The cocoon-like warmth of my slumber peels away, layer by layer, until I'm floating in a hazy gray lake of heat. Low pulses of red and white flash behind my eyes as my heart increases its tempo. I squirm with need, inadvertently grinding my ass into something hard and hot. A low moan in my ear draws me closer to the surface and my eyelids flutter open.
I'm in the back bedroom of the bus, nude, and Drax is spooning me in the most filthy and delightful manner. One hand is playfully tweaking the tips of my breasts while the other explores farther south. Without even being aware of it, I've spread my legs to grant him better access. Apparently, I'm running on pure animal instinct.
I grind against him again, earning another moan, this one louder than before. Still fuzzy from sleep, I tip my head back and our lips lock. There's no talking because there's no need. We're together, we're in love -- at least, I'm pretty sure I am -- and fucking like bunnies is expected. And I'll have to say, I've never been awakened in a more pleasurable way.
Drax drags my leg over his thighs and uses his fingers to spread me open and guide himself to my entrance. My body is more than ready for him and I wonder how long he's been warming me up. Long enough, that's for sure, because he slides into me easily and all the way to the hilt.
I cry out into his mouth, his tongue absorbing the noise. He fills me so completely that I already feel the pressure building inside me. Relentlessly, he thrusts into me from behind, his fingers playing me like his guitar until all the light in the world compresses into a single bright pinpoint behind my eyelids. Then it explodes.
I'm still pulsing around him when his guttural moan turns into his own cry of ecstasy. Waves of heat wash over me with each diminishing thrust, until we're a mass of glistening skin and entwined limbs, wrapped in our love.
"Good morning," he pants in my ear.
I barely have enough breath to laugh or strength to roll over in his embrace, but I manage both. "Boy, I'll say it is."
He grins and pulls me closer. "Sorry, but you were tucked up into me, all soft and curvy and gorgeous...I couldn't resist."
"You have my permission to wake me up like that every damn day, got it?"
"Don't tempt me, Lola," he growls.
"Promises, promises," I tease.
After the band meeting last night, we talked for hours while the rest of the band went out to celebrate our new plan of action. Wanting a little more privacy than what we could get at my dads
' place or on the boat -- his parents' West Coast racing yacht, as it turns out -- we ended up at the lot where the band's bus is stored. Strictly speaking, overnight guests aren't allowed, but a $20 bill slipped to the night watchman ensured we wouldn't be evicted.
As much as I wanted to jump his bones right then and there, we had a lot to work out first. For starters, what he was doing with his ex the other day.
As it turns out, Drax wasn't expecting Shelby to show up with his parents. They arranged that without his knowledge, and he wasn't thrilled about it. Seeing her in Las Vegas only confirmed his belief that she'd done him a favor by dumping him back in the day. In fact, after I saw him in the Mission that night, he told her there was no future for them, even if they both ended up in New York. And now that everyone is on board with the Route 666 Tour, New York is off the table.
I also shared my concerns about losing myself to the lifestyle and that, if he wanted to be with me, he had to be with Lauren, not Lola. "Who do you think I fell for?," he asked, then guided me to the bedroom and made love to me all night.
And this morning.
Snuggling into the crook of his neck, I breathe him in. It's a heady mix of cloves and sex that gets my motor purring. Even after a passion-filled reunion last night, and this morning's sunrise edition, I still can't get enough of him.
Lazily, I skim my hand along the hard planes of his back, down to his tight rump. I've never touched an ass that firm before -- I've only touched one other one, and it was less-than-impressive -- and I can't seem to stop. I could touch him forever and never grow tired of it.
When he twitches against my thigh, I twitch inside. I know guys usually require some time to recoup but I can't wait. It's a primal need, something deep down that demands to be claimed by him immediately.
Skimming around to the front, my fingers wrap around his girth. I search out his lips for a soul-deep kiss while I squeeze and release and pet and stroke, urging him to hurry up already. It's working.
So I Married a Rockstar Page 14
