by Selena Kitt
“How do they get into your pants?” I wondered out loud, still a little in shock that I was bantering back and forth with Trouble’s lead guitarist. The man was even hotter up close and personal, if that was possible. Just standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, rocking back on the heels of his Keds, he was like something out of a magazine. “Because I don't know how you get out of them!”
“Want me to show you?” he asked, reaching for the snap on his jeans. Just watching him do that made my ovaries ache. He wasn’t kidding. The man exuded sex. Fuck. “I did come out here to take a piss...”
“You have a thing for public urination?” I tilted my head at him, smirking.
We were awfully close, close enough I could smell him—leather and a hint of licorice—both our hands on the handle of one of the doors. His smile was lopsided and full of knowing. He knew he could have me if he wanted me. And I knew it too. There wasn’t anyone of the feminine persuasion—and perhaps quite a few who played for the other team—who wouldn’t go down on their knees for this man. I was certainly no exception.
“I have a thing for blondes with smart little mouths,” he confessed. His gaze dropped to my smart little mouth, lingering there, and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was.
God, I hoped so.
“Okay, go ahead.” I leaned against the door, smirking, glancing down to the waistband of his jeans. He was wearing a black t-shirt, tucked in, with a wide leather belt that just made me want to undo it. “You guys are perfectly equipped for outdoor bathrooming, after all.”
“Nah, I can't whip it out here.” He shook his head, eyes bright with laughter. “I'd hurt someone.”
“Ha ha.” I rolled my eyes again but now he had me thinking about it. Which was probably his intention. “Just how big is it?”
“I don't know.” He shrugged, giving me that cute little smirk again, hesitating just the perfect amount of time before delivering his punchline. “I think I've only got one ruler.”
And that cracked me up. From the smile on his face, my reaction pleased him. God, what a smile. His gaze fell to my lips again, then dipped lower. Sabrina had tramped herself out for the concert, wearing a short skirt and tall boots and a shirt that showed so much cleavage you would be in danger of falling in if you leaned over too far, but I was just in jeans, a Trouble t-shirt, and a jean jacket. The latter was mostly unbuttoned, in spite of the cold. I’d worked up a sweat coming up all those goddamned stairs.
“So, what do we do now?” I looked from him over to Rob and Sabrina. They were standing now, so Sabrina was probably okay. Although that strange look on her face had me a little worried.
“You got me.” He shrugged, cocking his head as his gaze dipped lower, lingering on my breasts before slipping to the slight indent before my hips. Then his eyes lifted to meet mine and all my breath disappeared. I literally just forgot how to do it. “Dang girl, all those curves and me with no brakes.”
In and out. That’s how you do it.
Breathing, Katie—breathing!
I managed to make my lungs work. My mouth too. My sarcasm was ingrained, like muscle memory. Things just came out of it without me thinking at all.
“Oh my God, so much cheesy and me with no pizza,” I told him, rolling my eyes again for good measure. That was like muscle memory too.
“Okay it was bad.” He held up his hands in surrender, grinning.
“You're a rock star,” I admonished. “You really should have better pickup lines.”
“I'm a rock star,” he reminded me with a raise of his eyebrows. “I usually don't need pickup lines.”
I laughed. Damn, he was good. I hadn’t met a guy who could keep up with me, one on one, with snappy comebacks. Not ever. Alex had clammed up completely when I got sarcastic—which was, like, all the time. I still couldn’t figure out quite how that had happened—the job, the relationship, the engagement, the breakup. I guess it was the latter that surprised me the least. For me, endings were just the inevitable part that beginnings always promised.
“Okay, big bad wolf, why don't you huff and puff and blow this door in?” I nodded at the closed steel door. There was definitely music playing, but at least I’d been right about it being the opening act, because two members of Trouble were out here with us.
“I'm not even going to make a little piggy comment.” He pursed his lips and shook his head, turning back to the problem at hand, pulling the handle of the next door.
“Wise man.” I narrowed my eyes at him as we moved down the line of doors.
“I think I could break one down.” He kept going, determined to try them all for himself. Every single door.
“Umm when do you hulk out?” I asked with a laugh. “Do I have to make you angry?”
“You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.” He frowned at the last door, like it had disappointed him most of all.
“What if we bang on it?” I suggested. “Someone might hear us.”
“Bang on it?” He lifted his gaze to mine and gave me a slow, sly smile.
“You know what I meant.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Oh Sassykatie,” he said, running my name together with the endearment. “Don’t stick that pretty little tongue out if you’re not going to use it.”
I wiggled it around for good measure before pulling my tongue back into my mouth. That distracted him. He kept looking at my mouth and this time I knew exactly what he was thinking. I was thinking it too. All those naughty thoughts filled my belly with a sort of unquenchable fire. I could have downed a gallon of ice water and it wouldn’t have touched that kind of heat.
“How in the hell did you end up out here in the first place?” I wondered aloud.
It was a strange, impossible coincidence. We come up the back stairs and Rob Burns and Tyler Cook burst out just as we’re about to give up and head around front? What were the odds? I’d have a better chance putting my life savings—granted, that had been whittled down to a measly couple hundred dollars—on red at the roulette wheel over at the Greektown Casino and winning, I realized, meeting Tyler’s dancing eyes.
“I told you,” he reminded me with a sheepish shrug. “I have to take a piss.”
Present tense, have to. Poor guy’s bladder was practically bursting, and we were standing out in the Detroit cold in February. That made me think of his joke about whipping it out. What the hell? Why did my mind keep wandering back to this man’s dick? What was wrong with me? I mean, I knew I had a dirty mind, but this was ridiculous.
“They don’t have bathrooms inside?”
“It’s a damned maze back there. We got lost.” That sheepish grin spread over his face. We both heard Rob saying something to Sabrina and Tyler turned to look at them. “Hey, is she okay, bruh?”
“She’ll live,” Rob called over his shoulder. “We’ve got to get back in.”
“Ya think?” Tyler rolled his eyes, reminding me so much of myself I had to suppress a laugh. He looked back at me. “So, you’re here for the concert?”
“Nah, I’m in training.” I waved his question away, noticing him noticing my Trouble t-shirt. His face was printed on it, just visible above the last button on my jacket. “Rocky did the steps, but did he do them in heels? I don’t think so.”
I showed him the cute, strappy heels I’d decided to wear, like an idiot, to a rock concert. We had front row seats, thanks to my dad, but once everyone rushed the stage, I knew I was going to need the height to see the action. Heels had seemed a smart choice, before the stairway from hell had appeared.
“You’re a smart ass.” He grinned like he didn’t really mind it.
“Better than being a—”
“Really?” Tyler snorted, interrupting me before I could say dumb ass. “Now I’m disappointed.”
“Can’t you get any of those doors open, Ty?” Rob called. He was shielding Sabrina with his body, like he thought she might spontaneously fall down the stairs if he didn’t.
“They’re all locked!”
Tyler called back.
“If you hadn’t let that damned door close,” I muttered, staring at it, willing it to open again. Hey, it had worked once! Magical thinking was, well, magical.
“We were kind of busy keeping your friend from dying.” Tyler glanced over at Sabrina, who looked at me, a light in her eyes I was familiar with. Did I look that star struck? I wondered. I hoped not. She looked like a cartoon character who had been shot in the ass by Cupid—that loopy. It made me want to laugh. The whole situation made me want to laugh.
“He was playing Superman,” I pointed out to Tyler. “But what were you doing?”
“Sorry, Angel, I got distracted.” He shrugged, looking back at Rob and Sabrina. “Besides, I’m not the Superman type.”
“What type are you?” I teased. “The Hulk?”
“Nah.” Tyler put his hands in his pockets, rocking back on the heels of his Keds. “I’m Batman.”
“How are you like Batman?” I scoffed.
“I’m dark, orphaned and pissed at the world.” He squinted up at the darkening sky.
“Well then I’m Catwoman,” I snorted. “Fast, a little bit crazy, and you have to watch out for the claws.”
“I’d like to see you in the suit,” he said amiably, his gaze sweeping over me. Head to toe. There was that heat again. It was like he stoked a fire in me every time he looked my way.
“I’d wear a cat suit for you.” The words came out and I felt that heat spread through my belly, my chest, flooding my face. I was actually blushing and glad it was finally growing dark.
“Let’s try banging.” Tyler cleared his throat and his words caught my body on fire completely. Just his shoulder brushing mine made me feel like I was going to spontaneously combust. “On the door.”
“Right.” I cleared my throat too. “Okay, let’s do it.”
The innuendo was painful. Achingly, hotly painful.
“On three.” Tyler gave me a nod, positioning his fists against the door and glancing over at me. “One… two… three...”
We both pounded the door, screaming as loud as we could. Hello! Let us in! Hello! Is anybody in there? Open the fucking door! My hands hurt when we stopped, both of us breathing hard as we looked at each other, grinning. It was stupid and crazy but exhilarating too. At least some of the sexual tension between us had been expended in the effort. It took the edge off. Just barely.
“That's exhausting,” Tyler panted. “I need to hit the gym more.”
“Looks like you do all right.” He wasn’t wearing a coat—just a t-shirt—and his biceps were nicely defined.
“Well, I’m no Superman.” He grimaced.
“Superman would have a super bladder,” I teased.
“True dat. I may have to just take a piss here.” Now he sounded apologetic.
“Nah you've got some time,” I told him. “You're not even doing the pee-pee dance yet.”
“The—what, now?” He cocked his head, looking quizzically at me.
“You know...” I started hopping around like I had to go. Which kind of made me have to go. Power of suggestion. “The pee-pee dance.”
“Shit, don't make me laugh.” He laughed anyway. Then he looked over at Rob. “Hey, bruh, a little help over here?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rob asked Sabrina.
“She’s fine,” I called. “She’s just star struck.”
I was fairly sure that was true. I knew that star struck look in her eyes. Rob was asking her name, but she just looked at him like that.
“I’m Katie and that’s Sabrina,” I informed him. I was star struck too, but nothing could keep my mouth closed, even in the craziest of circumstances. “We’re supposed to be watching the show...”
“We’re supposed to be playing it.” Tyler grinned.
“All right, we’re locked out.” Rob had his arm around Sabrina, but he was finally considering the doors. “Let’s see if we can get their attention.”
So, we banged on the door again, all four of us slamming on it, yelling at the top of our lungs. It was my father’s misinformation that had me parked illegally down there—Sabrina was likely to get a ticket, thanks to me—and now locked out of the venue, no closer to our goal than we were before.
Of course, without that misinformation, we never would have met two members of Trouble barreling out the back doors in search of a bathroom. The universe worked in mysterious ways, I guess. I think we were all about to give up and go around when the doors opened, and a security guard told us to go around to the front entrance.
“Dude, we’re in the band!” Rob protested. The shocked look on his face cracked me up. Tyler too, who kept complaining he had to take a piss. Poor Sabrina still looked dazed and confused, like she couldn’t quite believe any of this was real. I could totally understand the feeling.
The security guard totally didn’t believe either Rob or Tyler when they said they were in the band, but when I presented him with our tickets, he let us in, no problem. Sabrina and I stood there, incredulous, trying to convince him that there wasn’t going to be a concert unless he let the guys in!
Thank God someone came along who recognized them both. By that time, Tyler and I were both cracking up so hard, it was difficult to stand. I was surprised he hadn’t pissed himself, like he kept threatening to. I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath, as Tyler and Rob finally got past the guard. Tyler was grinning from ear to ear, more amused than mad, but Rob looked pretty perturbed. The security guard was apologizing and practically groveling, but Rob was paying more attention to Sabrina and the cut on her head.
“Make sure you get these girls front row seats,” Rob said to the guy who let us in—not the security guard, but the other one, who had recognized them.
“Actually, we already have front row seats,” I called, waving our tickets. Sabrina tried to hush me but there was no way I wasn’t going to go for it, not now. We’d come this far, we’d literally run into the band—well, two of them anyway—and now we had a chance at more. Like I was going to let an opportunity like that pass me by?
“Someone’s fishing for backstage passes,” Tyler whispered under his breath, grinning at me.
“I’m not fishing,” I replied, grinning back when Rob insisted we get all access passes, since we already had front row seats. “I’m catching.”
“You sure are.” Tyler dropped me a wink as he and Rob started down the long, dark hallway in the opposite direction.
“Now you’re doing the pee-pee dance!” I called after him.
“Stop making me laugh!” he laughed. “Smart ass!”
Rob was calling something back to Sabrina, but I missed most of it—something about her favorite song. When Sabrina turned back to me, once the guys had disappeared around a corner, we grabbed each other’s hands and jumped up and down, squealing like teenagers.
“We’ve got backstage passes!”
The security guard rolled his eyes and the other guy smiled indulgently at our adolescent behavior, but I was certain they underestimated exactly what had just transpired over the course of those few moments. We had backstage passes.
It was like winning the lottery or finding one of Willy Wonka’s golden tickets. It was against-all-odds crazy, and Sabrina knew it too. Her eyes were shining, in spite of the cut and growing bump on the side of her head. So, we’d taken a few lumps, big deal! We now had access to Trouble—to Rob and Tyler. The universe had hit us with a great big stroke of luck—a smack in the forehead for me, nearly knocking Sabrina down a flight of stairs—and it was a dream come true.
But, like winning the lottery or finding the golden ticket, that wasn’t the end. Now, we had to decide how we wanted to use this little bit of luck to our advantage. I, for one, wasn’t going to let it go to waste!
Chapter Two
In all the years my father managed to get us great seats for Trouble concerts, we’d never gotten backstage. I’d been backstage at a few other concerts when I was a tween—back before my father
left my mother and moved to California—but he already had another wife and family by the time Sabrina and I started going to see Trouble, and I’d fallen way down on the priority list. I had to beg him every year to get us good seats to Trouble, and I knew I was being a nuisance to him.
Not that I had a problem being a nuisance. I was good at it. And my mother always said you should do what you’re good at.
But no matter how much of a nuisance I made of myself, calling my father every day, usually leaving a message with his secretary, or his new wife if I was calling the house, we never managed to get behind the scenes. I’d even threatened to toss my panties on stage or flash the guards, thinking it might activate my father’s parental instincts, but that had been a no-go. My father avoided my calls, but still managed to come through with front row seats. That was the best he could do for me, which was, as usual, never quite enough.
We had to run smack into Trouble to get backstage.
And now that we were finally there, I wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass me by.
I was standing at the beverage table, opening another beer—the room was full of food and people—when Trouble came into the room. I met Sabrina’s gaze. She was sitting on the other side of the room, and even with the short skirt and the hooker boots, she still looked like an elementary school teacher. Her back was straight, legs crossed, hands over hand on one knee. She couldn’t have looked more prim and proper, or more out of place, if she was a nun in a stripper joint.
I waved her over, but she just shook her head imperceptibly, looking at Rob, who was already surrounded by fans, most of them female. I felt bad for Sabrina. She had it tough, being madly in love with Rob Burns. Tyler was just as hot—hotter if you asked me—and far more attainable. Besides, if I’d glommed onto Rob, the way Sabrina had, we’d be fighting over the same guy—even if it was just fighting over a fantasy—and I knew better than that.
