“Right. And that had nothing at all to do with you and your giant black eye.”
I grinned. “You remember that night? You told me I should stop smoking. You can be bossy yourself, you know that?”
“I remember. A girl never forgets the night the man of her dreams brings her tampons.” She looked up at me, and I looked right back at her. And yeah, she’d just said that. The man of her dreams.
“I never had another cigarette after that one,” I confessed. “Bet you didn’t know that.”
“Never?”
“Never.” I took her chin and drew her face close to mine. “I have loved you forever, Jessa Mayes. Pretty sure I was fucking born to love you. I know you didn’t really believe me when I said so, or maybe you just didn’t want to… but I would’ve waited for you forever.”
“Say it,” I murmured into her sweet-smelling skin, kissing her neck as I held her down. And yes, I was being bossy. I did not give one fuck. “I want to hear you say it, princess.”
“Say what?” she mumbled sleepily. “What is it you want from me now? Didn’t I already meet all your demands?” Her hand crept down to my bare ass and squeezed.
“I want you,” I said, kissing my way up her throat as I maneuvered between her thighs. “To stay. Here.”
“Right here?” she asked, wiggling beneath me.
“Here,” I said, thrusting slowly inside her. “In my home… in my bed… where you belong.”
“Sounds very… caveman,” she said as she took me, her breaths slowing, deepening.
I did my best cavemen grunt as I moved, sliding out, then in again. “Give me… more… pussy.”
Jessa laughed and slapped my ass. “Stop it!”
“Mmm.” I ground into her and her laughter melted away, replaced with a groan.
“Brody…”
“I’m serious.” I slowed my thrusts and pressed my forehead to hers. “I don’t go on the road much anymore, and when I do, you can come with me. Or you can stay right here, in my bed, waiting for me.”
“Sounds fun.”
“You can write, and you can still model, if you decide you want to…” I almost lost my train of thought as she moved her hips against me, urging me on. “You can do… whatever you wanna do.”
“Well, thank you for your permission.”
“You don’t need my permission. And don’t be a smart-ass.” I kissed her, whispering, “I’m not telling you to change your life for me, Jessa. I’m asking you to finally share it with me.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Jessa
“You’re out of bourbon!” I called up the stairs. “That shit will not fly with my brother, you know!”
“On it!” Brody called back to me from the kitchen.
I grinned to myself as he no doubt texted Maggie to pick some up; she was out getting booze and extra food for the party.
I turned to take a good look around Brody’s party room, like I had so many times in my life. Nothing had really changed. The same couches, the same ottomans and cushions on the floor. Maybe some updated equipment—the small amps against the wall, the guitars on stands and strewn on the couches. The vintage arcades lining the far wall—the Ms. Pac-Man was definitely new. But the pool table and the big, mounted posters on the walls—Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Doors—were all the same. The wall of glass doors that opened right onto the backyard. Beyond, the killer view of Vancouver spread out below, sparkling in the dark, and the deeper dark of the water that surrounded it.
I loved this place.
Brody’d said he wanted this to be my safe place… and it totally was. It always had been.
I picked up the big bouquet of flowers he’d bought me while we walked around Granville Island Market this afternoon; we could have a rock ’n’ roll party with beautiful flowers, right? We were grown-ups. And if Zane somehow destroyed them—a definite possibility—he’d just have to buy me new ones.
As I was arranging the lilies into a vase, Elle showed up. She scanned me, head-to-toe, with a slight grin. “Nice shirt.”
“Thanks.” I beamed at her. “You might say I’m a fan.” It was a Dirty T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. It had a picture of the band on it, and though it was from only five years ago, they looked so much younger; the guys all with longer hair, and Elle with her sweet face.
“You look… happy,” she said, cocking her head as she examined me.
“Yeah.” I was trying not to smile so much, but I couldn’t seem to come down off this high I was on. Me and Brody. Everything out in the open… and me and Brody.
Together.
Then I noticed she didn’t look happy. “Listen… I wanted to talk to you, Jessa.”
This sounded serious, so I left the flowers and gave her my full attention, letting her draw me over to a couch.
“I just… I feel somehow… responsible,” she said as we sat down. “For what happened. You know… you and Seth.” Her steel-gray eyes held mine. “I just can’t stop thinking that I should’ve seen what was going on. You know, I was the girl in the group. I should’ve looked out for you.”
I squeezed her hand, moved that she felt so much, and sorry that she felt like what happened was in any way her fault. “You did look out for me,” I said, smiling reassuringly. “Remember, you used to tell everyone at shows I was your sister so they’d give me beer?”
“That’s true.”
“Believe me, back then, all I really wanted was a beer and to be treated like a grown-up. And to be one of you. To be just like you, really. To have the kind of respect you had from the guys. You were this kick-ass bass player; their peer. And I was… the kid.” I shrugged. “You were pretty much my hero back then. You and Stevie Nicks. You’re still one of my heroes.”
“Thanks, Jessa.” Elle sighed. “Seriously, though. I’m sad. I’m just so sad about all of it.”
“I know.”
I pulled her in for a hug, amazed that it was me who’d be comforting her at the end of all this—and truly humbled that I had the opportunity. That I could be here for her. That my friends cared so much, and that for once, I could be the strong one. Because as Elle wrapped her arms around me, I could feel the sadness in her.
Elle had cared about Seth, once upon a time. A lot of people had. Seth was special; we all knew it, from that very first day Zane brought him home to jam with us.
I wasn’t the only reason everyone was sad about everything that had gone down. I knew that. And I understood it, deeply.
I was sad about losing Seth, too. I always had been.
It wasn’t my choice that he go, either. I’d given him his chance to speak up for himself. He hadn’t. He didn’t say a word to anyone in his own defense. From what I knew, Jude had told him he was in breech of his contract—which I still didn’t quite understand—and he just left.
That kind of made me saddest of all. That he didn’t even fight.
But Maggie had told me that just proved he wasn’t right for the band. And maybe everyone else agreed with that.
“Well… if it isn’t two of my favorite girls.”
I heard my brother’s voice and looked up to find him standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching us.
Elle drew away, discreetly wiping a tear from her eye. Then she put on a smile, turned to my brother, and said, “Jessa and I were just discussing Stevie Nicks.”
“Yep,” I said, smiling.
“She thinks you and I should do a duet, a cover of ‘Leather and Lace,’ on the new album,” she told Jesse as she walked past him.
“Uh…”
Elle grinned at me over his shoulder, then disappeared up the stairs. My brother looked at me and his eyebrow went up. “‘Leather and Lace’?”
“It’s a great song.”
“Sure. Not Dirty’s style, though, so I’m gonna assume you’re full of shit.” He crossed the room and dropped down on the couch next to me. “What were you two really talking about?”
“Just girl stuff.”
“Uh-huh.” He studied me a moment.
“Where’s Katie?”
“Upstairs,” he said, sprawling back on the couch. “Helping Brody out. He’s prepping like a thousand burgers for the barbecue.”
I just grinned. My man was good like that. He’d always loved playing host, having all his friends, everyone he cared about, together under one roof; under his wing. Looking out for everyone. Keeping us fed and happy.
I lay back on the couch next to my brother, tossing my feet up on the ottoman.
“I saw you, at the wedding,” he said. “Talking to Elle. You were worried about her, about how she was doing. You’ve always had such compassion for everyone else’s feelings, instead of dealing with your own, you know that?”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “You saw that? While you were having your first dance with your bride?”
“Hey, I see things. I care. I care about Elle. You know I do. But anyway… I wasn’t watching her. I was watching you.”
“Afraid I was going to dive off the deck and swim away?”
“Possibly.”
“I know it may be hard for you to trust me on this,” I told him, “but I’m done with running away. I’ve had a bit of a revelation, thanks to Maggie and Brody. You know, talking things out with friends.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Turns out… I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”
“You don’t say.” He didn’t sound surprised at all. Not that I really expected him to be.
“I do say. And it’s been kind of… damaging. I’ve been hard on myself, I guess. That’s what everyone seems to think.”
“What do you think?”
“That I’m tired of trying to be perfect. I’m going to try just wallowing about in mediocrity a while, see how that feels.”
He laughed. “Good luck with that. Nothing mediocre about you, sis.”
I shrugged, not really sure if he was serious or putting me on. “Thanks, I guess.”
“You want,” he said, “I’d be happy to dispel any notion you might have in your head that you’re perfect, right now. For example, you have that weird thing about lids. Like you never put them on properly before you put stuff back in the fridge.”
I rolled my eyes. “That does sound imperfect of me.”
“And you’re always putting the milk back with a teeny tiny dribble left. Just drink it, for fuck’s sake.”
“It’s the perfect amount for tea!”
“I don’t drink tea.”
“Well, some of us do.”
“And you leave your used tea bags all over the fucking counter.”
“Because I like to reuse them.”
“And you leave your dirty mugs all over the place without a coaster.”
I laughed. “Shit. The big bad rock star wants me to use a coaster? Geez, I’m so sorry.”
“When you leave ring stains on my furniture, I do.”
“That was once, because you knocked into it and it spilled over. Totally your fault.”
“And you tend to blame me for shit I didn’t do. That was Max, not me.”
“So blame the dog!”
“And you don’t take criticism well.”
“Are you done yet?”
“Nope.” He grinned his big, dazzling grin, the one that made women—who weren’t related to him—swoon. “Could go on like this for days.”
“That grin doesn’t work on me, so let’s just skip to the end. I get your point.”
“And you’re always changing the subject when people tell you things you don’t want to hear.”
“Okay. You can stop now.”
“What? I skipped to the end. That was the last one.” I didn’t believe that for a second, but he just nudged my left ankle with his foot; the one where I had the angel tattoo. “Remember when we got those?”
“Yeah.” How could I ever forget? “After Mom died.” I frowned at him a little. “Took us like two years to do it, though, since you were chicken.”
“Since I wanted to make sure we got something cool and you didn’t make us get matching pink unicorns or some shit.”
I rolled my eyes. The tattoos were cool, and yes, they were my idea, but luckily he’d agreed to them.
“It was his shirt, wasn’t it?” he asked. “That Zeppelin shirt of Brody’s you always wear. That’s where you got the idea to do the angels.”
I just blinked at him, a little surprised he’d figured that out. The angel on our tattoos looked nothing like the image on the shirt.
He shrugged. “I told you, I see things. I care.”
“I know you do.”
He was silent a moment, just looking at me. Then he said, “It’s always been Brody for you, huh?”
I swallowed. This wasn’t something Jesse and I had ever discussed. I knew he had some idea back then, and maybe all along the way, that there was something between us. I was pretty sure he figured maybe I had some hopeless crush on Brody. But he’d never asked and I’d never told.
“Yes,” I said.
He seemed to process that.
“It’s you for him, too,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
I just nodded.
“Well, for me it’s Katie. And knowing she’s mine… I can’t tell you how that feels. How… right it is.”
“I know,” I said. “I see that.”
“Then, if he’s the one for you… what the hell are you waiting for? Mom and Dad are long gone, and I’m officially giving you permission to be happy, little sister.”
I could feel my eyes tearing up, the little prickle inside, but I blinked the wetness back. “Oh, well. If you’re giving me permission…”
He grinned, but we were interrupted then, as Zane, Dylan and Ash burst into the room with some friends, carrying enough booze to entertain a small army on leave, followed by Maggie and Elle. Zane immediately appointed himself DJ, cranking Thin Lizzy through the sound system, and the party officially got underway.
Dylan introduced me to his buddies, then I got caught up talking with Elle and Ash, and gradually the party room filled around us.
It was just like old times, but better—because I wasn’t suffering in silent guilt, longing for Brody from afar… watching him across the room throwing me angry, hurt looks… wanting so badly to talk to him and just not knowing how.
This… this was so much better.
While I chatted with Katie and her friend Devi, I did watch Brody across the room. Mingling, talking and laughing, looking happy. Maggie was right. He did smile around the guys. A lot. But when he looked over at me, which he also did a lot, he didn’t stop. He just smiled bigger.
And eventually, once everyone had drinks and burgers, then more drinks, and he was satisfied that his job had been done, he came over to me and took my hand.
“Come with me,” he said, leaning in close to kiss my neck. “I want to show you something.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jessa
Brody led me upstairs, to the second floor. To the room at the very end of the hall—and when we stepped inside, I had to do a double-take.
Unlike the rest of Brody’s house, which was clean and modern, but with woodsy, manly touches—big, solid slabs of wood and stone, interspersed with glass and clean white walls—this room was soft, warm, cozy, and undeniably feminine. But what really caught my eye was the music gear.
There was a Fender Stratocaster in a light coral color on a stand, next to my acoustic guitar. There was a small amp, a mic on a stand, and other equipment stacked in a couple of hard travel cases—also coral, with metal studs on them.
Then I noticed the big window seats along the bay windows, cushioned in velvety coral pillows… and the sofa and a couple of cushy ottomans clustered in one corner—also coral. My favorite color.
The walls were painted a soft cream. A very girlie chandelier sparkled in the center of the room.
On the antique desk, my laptop sat on a stand next to a bouquet of roses in a crystal vase—movie
star roses; big, beautiful roses in a coral color… my absolute favorite flower.
There was a beautiful silver tea tray with a matching tea pot and a couple of antique tea cups on saucers, with an assortment of teas. There were colorful spiral-bound notebooks stacked alongside the computer. A rainbow of gel pens were arranged in a ridiculous mug my brother had made for me at school, when he was a little boy and I was probably still in diapers, that said #1 Sister on it.
There were other mementos around the room, too. Framed photos on the walls of my family; my mom and my dad and my grandparents, me and Jesse as kids, Grandma Dolly, and me and the band jamming when we were young.
Seth was in none of them, which I was both relieved and a little sad to see.
I perused the small library, a bookshelf on one wall filled with books about music—writing reference books and biographies of great songwriters, from David Bowie to Bob Dylan to Billie Holiday.
I spun around, just taking it all in.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice choked up with wonder. I knew what it was. It was a songwriting room, filled with lovely things, chosen with care, just for me. Things that I would love, and everything I could ever need to find solace and let my creativity flow.
“It’s a place of your own, to do the thing you’ve always wanted to do,” Brody said. He took my hands in his. “Maybe I’m taking the lyrics of that song you wrote about Katie and Jesse too literally, you know, about sliding into home?” His lips quirked. “And making space for someone when you love them. But I wanted you to know I’d make room for you.”
“You did all of this? For me? Because of that song?” I was kind of in shock. I knew Brody could be sweet… but this?
“Maggie and Jesse might’ve helped out with some of it,” he confessed. “But yes. It’s for you, princess.” He pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You like it?”
“Brody… yes,” I breathed. “But… I mean… what if I fuck it up?”
He frowned.
“I know it sounds stupid,” I said. “But I promised you I’d be honest.” I put my hands on his arms and held on tight. I was holding on now with everything I had; I had to, to resist the urge to pull away. To run. Because I wasn’t fucking doing that anymore, no matter how scared I felt. “And honestly, Brody, I’m scared. I’m scared to put everything into this and fail.”
Dirty Like Brody: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 2) Page 33
