by Joey Bush
But with the two of us about to be stuck for nearly four months on a tour bus working together, trying to make everything come together on this insane schedule and doing my best to keep all of the other guys in line, and insuring that everything ran as perfectly as clockwork, it was simply a disaster waiting to happen. Surely he had to understand that? There was no way we could be professional about this and carry on any kind of illicit physical affair at the same time. It just wouldn't work.
Sure, he was interested at the moment, but I was totally convinced that it wasn’t going to last, especially once we were on tour. Owen Young was one of L.A.’s most eligible billionaire bachelors — a strikingly handsome man who oozed sex appeal. He could very likely have any woman he wanted, and I was just a poor girl from the less-than-middle-class Midwest.
I mean, let’s face it, the man was a rock star. He was accustomed to women like lingerie models, glamorous film celebrities, or sexy pop stars. Those were the types of women a man like him wanted, not just an ordinary girl like me. It was silly of me to get my hopes up and imagine anything else. Real life just wasn't like that.
He’d remember that just as soon as he went on tour and groupies were throwing themselves at him. Then where would that put me? I couldn’t afford to get attached. Not even a little.
And, I sure as hell didn’t want to just be used by him, either. Maybe he really was lonely, but using me to fill a gap wasn’t something I wanted. That was something I definitely was not prepared to do.
But, damn, I had to admit that the sex really had been amazing. A little shiver shook through me just at the thought of it, and I had to snap myself out of it, remembering to put the keys in my car door. I looked back at the building, hesitating, but forced myself to get into the car. I was leaving. I was not going back inside. I headed toward my apartment, calling Grace on the way to see if she was home yet.
“Hey, I need a drink. Want to go to the bar with me?” I asked when she picked up.
“What kind of question is that? Absolutely! Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just a long day at work, is all,” I told her. I didn’t feel like getting into it. At least, not before I had a couple of drinks in me.
“All right. How far away are you? I’ll meet you outside.”
“Twenty minutes. See you then,” I chimed then hung up, blasting the radio and trying to clear my head of all things Owen Young.
Grace was already waiting outside when I pulled up. She got in, and we headed straight for the bar. She didn’t bother trying to pry further, at least not yet, knowing me better than anyone else. We got to the bar and went in, ordering two drafts. I sighed, taking a sip of mine and relaxing some now that I was far from work.
“Hey, look, they have open mic tonight! You should sign up,” Grace pointed to a poster. I shrugged.
“Sure, why not.” Playing always cheered me up. I downed my first beer and immediately started to feel better. The buzz of the alcohol relaxed me and made me feel a bit more carefree. A drink made it easier to get my mind off of Owen and work.
Feeling a bit more on the cheery side, I headed over to sign up for the open mic. They had it set up to one open mic performance followed by one song by the DJ, and then repeat. I checked the list and noticed that there were still a few people signed up before me, so I grabbed another beer; there was still plenty of time before my turn on stage came up.
My cell phone buzzed with a text message as Grace and I sat drinking at a table. Grace’s eyebrow cocked up as I checked the message and sighed. It was Owen.
“Hey, where are you?” the text read.
“The Barfly. Why do you need to know? I'm off the clock, and I've taken care of all my responsibilities for the day,” I responded, maybe a little harsh, but at that point — two beers in — I didn’t care.
He responded back quickly. “I needed you to come back in to work on a situation with one of the hotels, but no biggie, I can handle it.”
Good, I thought, not bothering to reply. I took another long swig of my beer and then shoved my phone into my purse.
“Owen?” Grace asked.
“Yeah, just a little bit of a situation with work and some mix up with a hotel booking. No big deal, though; nothing he can't handle on his own,” I said, shrugging it off.
“So, spill it. What’s going on at work? I mean, you seem a little out of sorts. Have things gotten weird or uncomfortable or something?” she asked, leaning forward and raising an eyebrow at me. I swear I should have never told her about me and Owen sleeping together. I was starting to regret letting her in on that little secret.
“Nothing is going on with work,” I said flatly. “Absolutely nothing. It's all fine, seriously.”
“Are you sure?” she prodded. “Because that tone tells me otherwise.”
I sometimes hated that she knew me so well. “Fine, fine, you're right. Things aren't okay — they're not okay at all. He came on to me again today,” I finally admitted.
“Ohhh…then why are you here?” she giggled.
“Because I have to work with him, Grace! Jeez, doesn’t anybody understand that? I don’t need things getting complicated. And this job really is a lot of work, and it's so stressful. There are a million things to take care of, way more than I could have ever anticipated there being.
“Then you add the stress of trying to keep your boss at arm’s length. It’s just...ugh! I really don't need to be on an emotional rollercoaster with Owen Young on top of everything else.” I turned my attention to the stage to watch the next performance and let her know I wasn’t about to discuss it any further. She took the hint and we both watched the next few performances without discussing work or Owen.
By the time it was my turn, I had long finished my third beer and was feeling a decent buzz. There was a good bit of liquid courage flowing through my veins by the time they called my name. Getting a pat on the back and “good luck” from Grace, I headed straight up to the stage, feeling confident. They had an older, baby grand piano, but it was still in good condition. I’d played it a few other times at open mic night, so placing my fingers along the ivory felt comfortable.
I sat on the bench and adjusted the microphone stand before starting in on a song. It was one I’d written a while back, one of my favorites. I got lost in the music as my fingers pressed down gracefully on the keys. I’ve always felt at home up on the stage, just losing myself in the beauty and intensity of the music, just feeling every ounce of my being connecting with the notes and the lyrics and the soul of the song. I closed my eyes, the words flowing fluidly along with the melody as I poured my heart into the song and let the music carry all of my troubles to a place beyond me. I didn’t even notice how silent the room had grown while I was singing.
When I finished, I opened my eyes and looked up at the silent room, scared for a moment, until cheers, whistles, and hoots broke out. I smiled, Owen far from my mind, absolutely content.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Owen
Being rejected by Nalia only seemed to make me want her more. It confused me, intrigued me, and drove me nuts at the same time. It wasn’t something that happened to me too often. Or really at all, for that matter. Usually, I was the one doing the rejecting. Maybe that was why the whole thing was so frustrating.
I shook my head, pressed my fingertips against my temples, and glanced back down at her text. The Barfly. I hadn’t been there before, but I was sure I could find it.
Fuck it, I thought. I’m going after her. I had wanted to play it cool, given we were about to go on tour, but I didn’t want to spend the night alone or in anyone else’s arms. I knew I would totally be breaking the pact we had made about not having a physical relationship with the assistant — again — but I couldn't care less about that at the moment. There was no other woman I could imagine being with.
I doubted any other woman could satisfy me like she had, anyway. I doubted they had a chance of coming even close to making me feel the way Nalia made me feel. Hell, t
he thoughts of her moans alone drove me bat-shit crazy.
I headed out to my car, typing the name of the bar into the GPS as I walked. It was a good thirty-minute drive, but that was not something that concerned me much. I’d much rather make a bit of a drive and at least see her than simply head straight home to a large, empty bed that only made me think of her on yet another lonely night. No, there had been far too many of those already, and I was getting pretty damn tired of it. I wanted her, and that was all there was to it.
The drive went by quickly, and I walked into the bar intending to stay toward the back and search the room for her. Finding her, however, didn’t seem to be much of a problem.
She was on stage, sitting at a baby grand piano. I was taken aback by how stunning she looked up there under the lights that shone just so, giving her hair an almost angelic aura. They sparkled on her skin. I couldn't help but stare at her, completely mesmerized.
When she started playing, all of my thoughts fell silent as soon as I heard the effortless melody and that velvety voice of hers. She sounded amazing. I couldn't remember when I had last been so blown away by anyone in a musical sense. I suddenly remembered she’d mentioned playing, but I hadn’t thought about it much and certainly had no idea just how talented she was.
Just watching how feverishly she got into her playing struck a chord with me. Not only was the song soothing, but it was also as beautiful and moving as she was. I could tell by the way she performed it that she had written the song. It didn't just have her name and touch written all over it, it was her – it was an extension of her.
Suddenly, I realized something about this woman; she was just like me — stuck in a life that doesn’t make sense because music was her world, it was her heart and soul, it was the blood that her heart pumped through her veins. I knew because I felt the same way when I played. I’d never been so ready to get back out of the office and on the road as I when I first played with the band again, and it seemed she had similar desires.
It was strange to watch – I couldn’t recall ever coming across another person who seemed to feel the music with as much passion as I did. It was something that had come as a bit of a surprise to me when the band had made it big and I began to meet more people in the music industry. I had even dated a famous pop star once that I kind of expected to have that connection with musically, and she’d had an amazing voice, but she had been far more about the image and the fame than the music itself. Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last too long.
Watching Nalia on stage, I could tell right away that she was entirely different. It was easy to see that music was like religion to her, or something even more than a religion. It was the essence of who she was.
I smiled, watching her as she finished and those beautiful brown eyes opened back up, surveying her audience like someone who had just woken up from a trance or had just had their eyes opened to a beautiful truth. People began applauding and cheering. I could tell it wasn't just polite applause and praise; it was genuine amazement. The crowd totally loved her. They could see her passion and talent as clearly as I could, and they were totally impressed.
A look of absolute contentment spread across her face, making her absolutely breathtaking. Carefully, she exited the stage, a broad smile on her face as she headed to a table where a friend was waiting. I simply sat and watched her in silence, still in awe of her amazing, soulful performance. Just when I had thought she couldn't surprise me anymore, she had done just that.
Without hesitation, I headed straight over to her, slipping my arm around her waist and pulling her toward the dance floor as music began to play. Her friend let out a gasp and stared after us, but I paid her no mind. I pulled Nalia against me, moving in rhythm with her as a slow song played. She stared up at me in shock.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you,” I told her honestly, as I slipped my arms around her waist. She narrowed her eyes at me but slid her arms around my neck. “I didn’t know you played the piano so well,” I smiled at her. “What else can you play?”
A slow grin turned up the corners of her perfect lips. “You.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nalia
I couldn’t believe that Owen had shown up. He was saying all the right things, and I was feeling pretty high from the elation of playing my heart out on stage – not to mention kinda buzzed from the drinks I'd had — but that still didn’t mean I was just going to give in to what I was fairly certain he was there for.
With a smile, I shook my head as he tried to get me to dance, and I pulled away from him and headed back toward the table and Grace, who was staring at me wide-eyed. She was apparently in as much shock as I was that Owen was there. I didn’t have to look back to know he was right on my trail. Why had he driven all the way to my side of the city? Judging from the time since I'd responded to his message and when he'd shown up and surprised me, he must have left soon after receiving my text. The question I wasn’t quite so sure about was...why?
When I reached the table, Owen saddled up next to me, taking the seat across from Grace. I introduced them to each other, and they both shook hands. “Grace Nelson, actress and best friend, meet Owen Young, rock star and boss.”
“I’m a big fan of Bleeding Heart! Seriously. I'm super excited to hear some new stuff from you guys,” Grace told Owen. I frowned at her for gushing at him. She was supposed to be backing me up, helping me stand my ground, not boosting his ego.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grace,” Owen smiled at her. “So, you're an actress, huh? What area do you work in, film or television?”
“Oh, just a daytime soap.”
“Which one?”
“Ha, if you watched them, you'd know!” she laughed.
He laughed in response. “True, I guess you’ve got me there. I really don't have much time to watch TV these days. Although, now that Nalia is doing such an amazing job, maybe I will find a little time to check out a TV show or two. Maybe I'll even see you on your daytime soap.”
She chuckled. “Please don’t feel obligated. If I have my way, it’s just a stepping stone to bigger and better things. Kind of like my girl here,” she changed the subject. “Did you enjoy Nalia’s performance up there?”
“Immensely.” Owen’s gaze flickered to me.
I kept my mouth in a hard line, trying to ignore the shiver that moved through me as his eyes brushed over me. He just wants sex, I told myself. Don't fall for this sweet guy routine. It's just flattery to soften you up, win you over, and get you into bed. Still, it wasn’t like that was such a bad thing. I mean, I’d had fun, too. Hell, if I was going to be completely honest with myself, it had been mind-blowing. Amazing. Seriously, some of the best sex I'd ever had.
No, I mentally slapped myself. Quit thinking about it. You are not going to give in to him and just get used like he probably does with all of the girls he takes home. You're here to do a job, not just hop into bed with a rock star.
“Would you ladies like another round?” Owen asked.
“Sure,” Grace answered before I could say anything in protest. “Let's get this party started!”
As he walked to the bar, I narrowed my eyes at her. “What the hell are you doing, Grace?”
“What? Come on, Nay. He obviously likes you. You already shot him down, but he still showed up here anyway. If nothing else, he’s certainly persistent, and you should really give him a few points for that. Besides, he's so hot.”
“Seriously? Come on, Grace, I thought you were on my side,” I frowned at her.
“I am, I am, but it is okay to have a little fun, too, ya know. Jeez, most girls would totally kill to be your shoes right now!” She gave me a nudge in the side. I started to respond, but Owen returned before I could, so I just shut my mouth and smiled as he slid a drink in front of each of us.
“Thanks,” I said into my drink, still keeping my eyes on him. He frowned, watching me. I considered that it was possible I might have been bein
g a little hard on him, and maybe Grace was right. Owen and I had had fun the last time things got intimate between us and, oddly enough, things hadn't been weird between us afterwards. It wasn’t like he was using me if I enjoyed it as much as him and didn’t expect any sort of attachment or conditions from it. I mean, we were two, mature adults just enjoying ourselves and each other, right?
He leaned in close and whispered into my ear. “You were absolutely stunning on stage. Your passion up there seriously set me on fire. And when I say that, I mean totally on fire. All over.”
I tried to force back the smile that threatened to spread across my lips. Instead of smiling or saying anything in return, I simply directed my gaze up – and was immediately met with a stare that churned every butterfly I hadn’t even known was in my stomach. “Thank you,” I mouthed, my eyes never leaving his.
“I think you'll regret it if you don't spend the night with me,” he whispered back. “We could have a truly amazing time together tonight. Trust me on that.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Grace raise a questioning eyebrow at me and flash me a cheeky smile.
I didn’t say a word. I only searched his stare and nodded my head.
“I’m guessing you two are gonna be going soon?” Grace asked, holding out her hand for my keys. I flushed, a little embarrassed, and fished my keys out of my purse for her. In my state, it was probably best if I didn’t drive, anyway.
“I’m sorry to steal her away,” Owen said to Grace, placing a palm gently on my lower back. Warmth pooled in me at the light touch of his hand, and my cheeks flushed once more. “But I promise you, she's in good hands. Very good hands.”
She waved a dismissive hand at both of us. “It’s no problem. You two get out of here and go have some fun,” she said with a grin.
“You sure, Grace? You'll be fine here all on your own?” I asked. She simply gave me a knowing smile and waved me off toward the door.
