The Girl's Got Secrets

by Linda Kage

  He scowled. “Really? How mature is that?” Then, he wiggled his eyebrows. “Now, I just want it back more.”

  While I sputtered out a laugh and nearly choked on my Twizzler, Gally hissed, “Sick, man. That’s disgusting. No flirting allowed here, queer.”

  “Whatever,” Remy muttered, leaning forward to find the bag for a new Twizzler stick. “You’re just jealous because I didn’t hit on you.”

  “Wow,” Gally said as he yanked his share of cash out of my hand. “That was totally not the case. Seriously, though, you two lovebirds sure got chummy since rooming together in Chicago.”

  “Yeah.” Letting out a big, dreamy sigh, Remy pressed a hand to his chest and fluttered his lashes my way. “We bonded. It was beautiful.”

  “Jesus, Sticks.” I scowled at him. “Just how drunk are you?”

  He gave a husky laugh and blew me a kiss. “I’m three sheets to the wind, baby.”

  “Yeah, I can tell.” I waved at Heath, motioning him to toss the bottle of vodka that was now in his possession my way. “Looks like I’m going to have to guzzle to catch up.”

  After Asher took a healthy gulp from the Grey Goose, and then another, he divided the rest of the cash out by three, so Heath, he and I got equal shares. It struck me that he should take more. Not only did he do double time in the band, singing, playing an instrument, and writing all our songs, he also acted as our manager, setting up all our gigs and taking care of the business end of Non-Castrato.

  I hated to admit it, but I admired the hell out him.

  Half an hour later, I didn’t hate to admit it so much. I was damn eager to as I slung a plastered arm over his shoulder and slurred, “Man, I admire the hell out of you. Awesome singer, awesome musician. Amazing songwriter and even more amazing body with an ass I want to sink my teeth into. Is there anything you suck at?”

  He leaned heavily against me, having just as much trouble sitting upright as I was. After squinting as if deep in thought, he admitted, “I can’t tell my left from my right.”

  “Damn.” My grin was sloppy and proud. “You mean, I actually know something you don’t?”

  “You should’ve seen him trying to Hokey Pokey at this wedding reception once.”

  I grinned over at Gally while he laughed over the memory. “It was at the wedding where Holden here’s cousin tied the knot and...” He grinned at Heath. “Hey, remember when I used to bang her, back in the day. Man, she was a hot piece of ass.”

  “Yeah,” Holden said with a dry scowl. “I remember.”

  “She had a mouth made for fucking. Plus she liked to swallow.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I told Asher, who laughed.

  “I’m serious.” Gally scowled, kicking at my knee. “Just shut up, gay fucker. Women’s mouths were made for a man’s dick. I’m telling you...because you wouldn’t know, nothing is as fine as a well-given blow job. And…now I want some pussy.”

  He stumbled to his feet. “Who’s with me? Why are we still sitting back here like a bunch of losers when there’s some grade-A, half-naked bitches out there? Let’s find us some pussy.”

  Heath stood first, and Gally cheered him on, slapping his back in congratulations. Then he turned to Asher.

  “What about you, Hart? Go pussy hunting with us. Just this once.”

  Asher actually seemed to consider the request before he shrugged and started to crawl his way off the couch. “Okay.”

  “What?” I snapped my gaze to him, but he wasn’t paying me any attention, too busy trying to stand straight.

  Gally clucked his tongue at me. “Sorry, gay boy. Guess that leaves you out.”

  “No, Remy can still come along,” Asher argued, waving me to follow them. “He can be our wingman.”

  I winced, suddenly not as drunk as I’d been seconds ago. But the idea of helping Asher score a chick left me sick to my stomach, wanting to puke all the alcohol I’d drunk.

  “Or maybe he can find his own dude to score,” Asher added, sending me an encouraging grin.

  I sent him a small smile. “Sure, count me in.”

  Count me in? What the hell was I saying? I didn’t want to watch him pick up chicks. And yet I couldn’t not come along. I’d worry all night, wondering who he’d chosen, how pretty she was, how funny and—

  “All right!” Asher cheered, slugging me on the back before he slung his arm over my shoulder and crookedly steered me out of the room.

  As Heath and Gally continued on ahead of us, I leaned in, wincing when I made Asher sneeze. But I still had to mutter into his ear, “Thought you said you didn’t like one-night stands.”

  Though my voice had been discreet enough, he hissed, “Shh,” and slapped his finger to his lips. “I don’t. But I’m horny and desperate and just drunk enough not to care about how shitty and more alone I’ll feel afterward.”

  I wrinkled my brow and opened my mouth to argue, but the look he sent me was full of an aching craving I knew I couldn’t fill with a couple rounds of Call of Duty.

  “I need this, Sticks,” he confessed. “I need…something.”

  I knew exactly what he needed. He needed to be touched.

  Then, as if to wipe away all the misery in himself, he grinned and bumped his body into mine. “And who knows. Maybe I’ll actually meet my soul mate out there.”

  Good Lord, I hoped not. Watching him take home a one-night stand would be bad enough; watching him fall into a committed relationship with some other woman...yeah, just kill me now.

  I swear, all the females in the building could smell his need, too. As soon as we cleared the back hall and entered the main portion of the bar, they flocked to him, touching him, praising him, smiling their evil, witchy skank smiles at him.

  I was torn away from him as they crowded in, and while the space between us grew from one foot to ten, I knew he was lost to me. I wanted to drown myself in more alcohol, but then...I just couldn’t. I went to the bar and ordered a water before returning to the fringes of his crowd of fans, watching helplessly.

  After a couple sips, I started to think luck would be on my side. Asher was politely turning them all away. And as the disappointed, rejected flock slunk away one by one, my spirits lifted. If this kept up, his own pickiness would save my entire night.

  Asher slumped down next to me, scowling. “What’re the odds that some woman in the place doesn’t know I’m in a band?”

  “Oh, about zero to nothing,” I assured him, feeling better by the second.

  He scowled at me. “Thank, asshole,” he hissed. “That makes me feel so much better.”

  I laughed and slapped his arm. “Just being honest, my friend.”

  “Well, I could use a good lie right now. So if you could be so kind—umph.” He went sprawling toward me as someone bumped into him from behind.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there,” A girl gushed, her eyes wide and hand covering her mouth. “Are you okay, sir? Did you spill your drink?”

  “No, it’s fine. We’re good.” Asher glanced at me to make sure I was good, then turned back to the woman. “Are you okay?”

  She preened and held out a hand. “Well, I am now. The name’s Tamra.”

  “Asher,” he greeted, shaking with her.

  She scrunched her eyebrows before leaning forward and saying, “Archer?”

  “No. It’s Asher,” he called a little louder.

  “Oh, okay.” She smiled and kept her hand in his. “Did you come to watch the bands play, Asher?”

  His eyebrows lifted. Then he sent me a smug little smile, as if to say zero to none, huh? And he turned back to Tamra...the whore.

  “Something like that,” he answered. “Did you get to hear them?”

  As they started a conversation about the bands from tonight and music in general, I rolled my eyes and turned away, sick and disgusted and freaking hurt.

  He was going to pick this one. I just knew it.

  I hated it, and yet there was nothing I could do about it. />
  I should’ve left then. I knew I should have. But I just had to torture myself. I had to watch it all play out.

  They were totally hitting it off. Asher was laid-back, but I could tell he was into her. I mean, he didn’t flirt with her or look at her the way he had me when he’d caught me in the shower—a small consolation I played up in my mind—but it was enough. He was drunk and desperate enough to take her home.

  When she announced she had to go the ladies’ room and would be right back, he spun to me and flashed me a thumbs-up as well as a grin that seemed to say we have a winner.

  I didn’t smile back. Instead I hopped off my barstool. “I gotta take a piss too.”

  His grin died. “Uh...okay.”

  Turning away from him and unable to keep looking at the hopeful, excited expression on his face, I hurried toward the bathrooms. There was a little alcove before it separated into the men’s and ladies’ rooms. As I entered it, I completely ignored the men’s side. Instead, I bent down and peeled off my mask.

  When I straightened and shook out my hair, some guy had just entered the alcove and had stopped frozen, gaping at me. “Dude,” he said, raising his hands and circling around me before he could escape into the lavatory.

  I didn’t even care that I’d been caught. I was too drunk, or jealous, or something, to think it through. I hurried into the women’s room and pulled to a stop when I saw Tamra with a few friends, fluffing their hair in the wall of mirrors above the sinks.

  “You lucky bitch,” one said, slapping Tamra’s arm. “I can’t believe you’re about to score Asher Fucking Hart.”

  “I know, right?” Tamra giggled and bit at her lips to plump them

  I drew in a breath and pressed my back to the wall just inside the doorway.

  But I couldn’t believe this. She already knew who he was. He’d never told her his last name.

  God, of course she already knew who he was. She was just better at the game than all the other clueless women out there.

  This was exactly what Asher didn’t want. And yet a groupie was about to trick her way into his pants anyway. I needed to warn him, except...how?

  Oh, you’ll never believe what I just heard in the ladies’ room, Ash?

  Yeah, that’d go over real well.

  Wanting to cry, I pushed from the wall and started for an empty stall. Tamra and her group spotted me and offered me tentative smiles.

  “Love the purple streaks,” she had the nerve to tell me.

  I sent her a sickened smile. “Gracias.” My hair was a disaster, I knew. It’d been trapped under the mask for hours and was probably matted and sweaty, sticking to my head in a most unnatural way.

  Escaping into a stall, I sat down and hugged my ribs, wanting to cry.

  Outside my door, one of the skanks asked, “Do you think he’ll take you back to his place or rent a motel room somewhere?”

  “Like it matters. I’d settle for the backseat of his car if that’s what he wanted.”

  It’s a motorcycle, bitch. He drives a motorcycle, not a car.

  And then I pictured him taking her on his motorcycle and had to squeeze my eyes closed and press my lips together to keep from crying.

  “Just as long as we don’t go back to my place,” Tamra cooed, beginning to sound way too smug.

  Both of her friends laughed before one said, “Yeah, I’m sure your husband and two kids would have a small problem with you banging Asher the rock god Hart on the living room couch.”

  My eyes popped open as the other two joined in, laughing.

  Say what?

  Oh, no fucking way. The skank was married? Surging to my feet, I tried to barge my way from the stall, only to find it locked. So I fumbled a second before I could escape, and yep, by the time I was free, the three women were gone, only their snickering, married-ass laughter echoing around the bathroom behind them.

  I started to follow them, pushing my way from the bathroom. But no sooner did I charge from the bathroom alcove than I spotted Asher headed my way.

  And he saw me. At the same moment his eyes went big and his mouth rounded into a surprised O, I remembered that I’d forgotten to put my mask back on.

  Moving quickly, I ducked behind a group of three guys passing by just as I heard Asher’s voice call, “Hey, wait.”

  I crouched down behind my unknowing shield until we passed a door, which I reached out and tried. When it opened, I popped inside the dark space, with no idea whether it was an office, supply closet or what. Afraid to shut myself fully inside alone, I kept the door cracked and was able to peek out from my dark hiding place.

  “Hijo de puta,” I hissed when I saw a determined Asher striding my way as if he knew where I was hiding.

  But Tamra found him, grasping his arm and asking him where he was headed.

  He glanced at the cracked doorway I was peeking out of. “I...I thought I saw someone I knew. Did you see a girl? Um...maybe Latino, long dark hair, purple highlights.”

  “Purple highlights?” Tamra said, her smile freezing. Then she shook her head. “No, I sure didn’t. Sorry.”

  Gasp!

  Liar!

  Okay, so I was a worse liar than she was. But she was trying to trick him into bed. That was just wrong.

  After she urged him away, grasping his arm to steer him back toward the direction of our table, he tossed one last wistful glance to my door but then turned away.

  I blew out a thunderous breath, counted to ten, then whipped on my mask as fast as was humanly possible, hoping to God I didn’t have it on crooked. Then I eased out of my hidey-hole and hurried back to the table as well.

  No way could I let that whore get away with doing this to my Asher.

  I reached them just in time. They were both standing, Tamra was slipping her purse strap over her shoulder as if getting ready to leave, and Asher was tossing some cash onto the table to take care of the tip. Then he set his hand on the small of her back and turned her toward the door. But I popped in front of them, right into their path.

  They pulled up short, so I had to pretend to pull up short in surprise too. “Oh, hey. You guys leaving?” I asked innocently enough.

  “Yeah.” Asher sent me an odd look. “I just tried to find you, but you weren’t in the bathroom.”

  “Oh...yeah. I....” Crap. I spotted the bar and quickly ad-libbed. “I went to get another drink, then decided against it.”

  He nodded. “Well, we’re going to go. This is Tamra, by the way.”

  I turned to her, sending her a pleasant smile, if I did say so myself.

  “Tamra, this is my friend, Remy.”

  “Hey,” she greeted, holding out her fingers in one of those lame, limp-wristed ways that drove me crazy.

  I took the tips of her hand anyway. “Nice to meet you.” Then I snapped my fingers and pointed. “Oh, hey. You’re that chick who was tucking her wedding ring in her purse just outside the john a few minutes ago, weren’t you?”

  “Say what?” Asher whirled toward her, his eyebrows lifted.

  Shock clouded her face. “I...I...I most certainly was not.”

  “Yeah, that was definitely you,” I cooed, unable to hold back a grin as I shook my finger at her. “You were bragging to your friends about how you were about to score Asher the rock god Hart, weren’t you?”

  “What? How...” She shook her head, gaping at me, trying to figure out how I knew as much as I knew. Then she whirled to Asher. “That did not happen. Not like that.”

  Maybe not exactly the way I’d described it, but oh, it had definitely happened.

  Asher didn’t seem to care how the conversation had gone down. “Are you really married?” He took a decisive step away from her.

  “I...” The guilt spreading across her face told us both she was.

  “And you lied about not knowing who I was,” he further accused before lifting his hands. “That’s just…not cool.” Then he turned and walked away.

  Tamra’s mouth dropped open. “What the hel
l?” she cried.

  When she glanced my way, I shrugged. “Hey...life’s a bitch and then you die, huh?”

  “You...” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re such a fucking liar. Thanks for ruining my night.”

  As she stomped away, I was about to call after her, something about a pot calling a kettle black, but then I stopped myself.

  I was a liar, and I was probably a worse liar than she was. She’d only planned on tricking him for one night. I’d been tricking him for weeks, and would keep on for who knew how much longer. There was no end in sight to my deception, because I just didn’t know how to tell him the truth.

  Feeling like crap times ten, I scoured the place until I found him at the bar by himself a couple minutes later, nursing some water, probably trying to sober up. His shoulders looked tense as he hunched over the counter, consoling himself.

  I slumped down beside him.

  For a couple seconds, no one spoke. Finally, I said, “I’m sorry.”

  He blurted out a harsh laugh and sent me a weary glance. “What the hell are you sorry for?”

  “I just...I cock-blocked you,” I mumbled. Because I was an evil, jealous bitch who hadn’t been able to stand seeing him take another woman home.

  “No. You just saved me from fucking a married woman. I should be thanking you...not you apologizing to me. Idiot.”

  “Still...” I blew out a long sigh. “If only I’d kept my big mouth shut, you could’ve found a little relief.”

  “Or ruined a marriage,” he argued. Turning to me, he looked me dead in the eye and set his hand on my shoulder. “You saved my ass just now. Thank you, man. You’re a true friend.”

  Except I didn’t feel like a friend at all. My deception pierced me to the depths of my soul and I felt like the biggest fraud ever.

  A true friend would’ve just wanted him to be happy.

  In that moment, I swore to myself I’d help him find a woman before the end of the night if it was the last thing I did. And who cared if I cried myself to sleep afterward. I deserved it.

  Asher, on the other hand, deserved the human contact he so craved.

  Well, this sucked ass. The evening had started out great and quickly nosedived into crappy. All because I’d been thinking with my stupid dick.